A Tempest and Some Teapots 6 страница

“Good idea, Nancy,” Mrs. Olsen said. “The more the merrier.”

When I called him back, Luther was thrilled. “Nancy, I feel like an amateur sleuth,” he joked. He assured me that he’d meet me at Cardinal Corners promptly at six.

“Bring a flashlight and extra batteries,” I reminded him before saying good-bye.

I retrieved my own flashlight — one nearly as long as my arm — and an extra set of batteries. But I had no intention of packing pajamas, as Mrs. Olsen had suggested. To be honest, I didn’t expect to get much sleep that night. Instead I changed into sweats with a matching cami and my favorite sneakers. Tonight was the night! I just knew it. The “ghost” of Cardinal Corners was going to be vanquished once and for all!

Tense Moments

Dinner at the Olsens’ that evening was rather festive. Luther and Mr. Olsen had removed the padlock from the storm cellar, and Ned had come for his car. Bess had reconnected the dumbwaiter’s pulleys too. But she’d also slipped a wedge between the small elevator and the shaft. When the intruder got in, he wouldn’t be going up.

Everyone was in such a good mood that we seemed to forget the possible dangers ahead of us. Things could get ugly. I’d already been conked on the head once. I didn’t want it to happen again. Mr. Olsen must have seen the worry on my face, because while we were having peach cobbler and ice cream for dessert, he said, “Nancy, you seem uneasy. What’s the matter?”

“We shouldn’t be overconfident,” I replied. “We haven’t caught the prowler yet. Reeve may come armed with a knife or gun. We need to be careful.”

With this sobering thought, we discussed our plans for the long night ahead. Afterward Mrs. Olsen showed us to our rooms on the second floor. Bess and I shared one with two twin beds. Luther had the room next to ours.

“This is a beautiful armoire,” Bess said, hanging her clothes inside the huge oak wardrobe. It had panels of art deco stained glass on the front. “It must be a real antique!”

Remembering what Luther had said about the bootlegger’s money still being hidden in the house somewhere, I asked Mrs. Olsen about the armoire. “Did it come with the place?”

“Yes, it did. Apparently it was too heavy to move,” she said. “Despite the nicks and scratches, it’s a lovely old piece. One of these days Karl is going to refinish it.”

I inspected the wardrobe carefully, knocking on all the panels and opening the drawers.

“Hmmm, this drawer looks a bit shallow, doesn’t it?” I asked.

“Shallow?” Mrs. Olsen said. “What do you mean?”

“Bess, hand me your nail file,” I said.

“Just don’t break it,” Bess said, giving me the file. I tried sliding it along the bottom edge of the drawer to see if I could pry the drawer up. It wouldn’t budge.

“Nancy! Don’t bend my nail file,” Bess squealed. I sighed. There was no time to fool around with the drawer anyway. I had plans to finalize and an intruder to catch. At around ten o’clock, we all retired to our own rooms and turned off the lights. If anyone was watching the house from the woods, he would think we’d all gone to bed.

I retrieved my long, heavy-duty flashlight from my overnight bag. “Sure hope this works,” Bess whispered as she grabbed the sleeping bags and followed me down the stairs in the dark.

“Me too,” I said.

“What if Davy Reeve doesn’t show up?” she asked quietly.

“Then we’ll have to try again tomorrow night,” I whispered back.

Downstairs, we checked on Mrs. Olsen, who was curled up on one end of the sofa in the dark parlor, armed with her flashlight and cell phone. “Ready for action,” she said.

As planned, Mr. Olsen and Luther were bunking down in the living room. “I’ve turned off the security alarm,” Mr. Olsen said. “But I don’t think he’ll come in through the back door. He’s going to come in through the tunnel, and you girls will be all alone down there in the basement. I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” said Luther. “Karl and I should hide in the basement and you girls stand guard in the parlor.”

“Do either of you know karate or judo?” Bess asked.

Even in the dark, we could see both men shake their heads. “Do you?” Mr. Olsen asked.

“Bess and I have taken classes,” I replied. “So we can handle ourselves. But we’re leaving the basement door open, just in case. When you hear us call out, come running.”

Bess and I didn’t turn on our flashlights until we opened the basement door and started down the steps. We didn’t want Davy Reeve — if he was watching — to see the beams of light through the windows and get suspicious. We positioned our sleeping bags in a strategic location against the far wall. We didn’t crawl into them, but merely used them as a cushion against the cold hard basement floor. We’d be able to see the intruder as he opened the door to the crawl space, but he wouldn’t be able to see us. At least that was the plan.

“Whatever we do, we can’t let Davy Reeve escape through the tunnel,” I told Bess. “Make sure he’s already in the dumbwaiter before we rush him. And one of us should be sure to close the door to the crawl space.

“I’ll do that,” Bess offered, squirming around for a more comfortable position. “I sure hope he comes. I don’t want to spend two nights down here on this hard old floor.”

I chuckled. Then, leaning back against the wall, I placed the long flashlight across my lap and said, “He’ll come tonight. You’ll see.”

I had no idea how long I’d been sleeping when the sound of something moving in the crawl space woke me. I went from groggy to alert instantly. With my heart pounding and my pulse racing, I nudged Bess with my elbow. She sat up immediately and clutched my arm. Then she squeezed it. That was her signal that she was ready and waiting. So was I.

Slowly the small door to the crawl space creaked open. A short man wearing all black — including a black ski mask — slipped through the door. He held a flashlight in one hand and a tire iron in the other. I could hear Bess’s irregular breathing. She was nervous. So was I. If Davy Reeve decided to look around the basement with his flashlight, he’d see us for sure. I hoped that he would make his way immediately to the dumbwaiter, and he did. When I felt Bess move beside me, I placed a warning hand on her knee. We were not supposed to spring our trap until Reeve opened the door of the dumbwaiter and climbed inside.

Clenching his flashlight now in his teeth, the intruder started to climb into the dumbwaiter. As he was lifting his leg in, I whispered, “Now,” and together Bess and I sprung from our hiding place. We flicked on our flashlights and bolted toward him. Bess slammed the door to the crawl space shut as we dashed past.

“Stop where you are!” I cried out. The man stumbled backward and spun around. I turned my flashlight straight in his face. He gave a startled cry and threw up his hands to shield his eyes from the glaring beam. Bess snatched his ski mask off.

“Davy Reeve, I presume?” she quipped. The small man with the heavy red beard glared at us wordlessly.

“Come on out of there,” I said. “Bess disabled it. You’re not going anywhere.”

With a snarl, Davy Reeve lashed out with his own flashlight and nearly hit Bess in the face. She stepped back just in time. Then things began to happen all at once. Bess hollered out for Mr. Olsen just as Reeve lunged at me, his fists flying. I ducked and spun around before grabbing the tire iron out of his hand. Reeve was shorter than me, but quick and wiry. He pushed me so hard that he knocked me off my feet.

“Don’t let him get away, Bess!” I shouted as I fell.

Bess tackled him as I scrambled to my feet. Grabbing the nearest thing I could find to tie him up with — which turned out to be a string of Christmas tree lights — I flung myself on top of Reeve as he wriggled savagely. Bess sat down on him as hard as she could and held down his legs. I’d just finished binding Reeve’s wrists when Mr. Olsen and Luther came clomping down the basement stairs. They flicked the switch, and in an instant the basement was flooded with light.

“Good work, girls!” Luther and Mr. Olsen declared with admiration.

Davy Reeve turned his head, trying to cover his eyes. The arrival of the two men seemed to take the fight out of him. His shoulders slumped and he quit moving.

“I don’t trust him,” I said, brushing my hands off. “Wish we had a pair of handcuffs.”

“Will duct tape do?” Bess asked. She pulled a roll off one of the shelves, and after a brief scuffle with Reeve, we finally succeeded in binding his ankles.

“Your wife should call the police now,” I said, turning to Mr. Olsen.

“The police are already here, Nancy,” Mrs. Olsen called out from the top of the stairs. She smiled down at me and stepped aside. To my surprise, Officer Madison was right behind her, along with Juan Tabo and a sulky Doug Spradling. I noticed the handcuffs around Spradling’s wrists.

“Wow, that was fast!” I declared, hurrying up the stairs. “Where’d you find him?” I asked, pointing to Spradling.

“He was waiting in a car down by the river,” Officer Madison told me.

“A bright yellow car,” Juan added with a grin. “I’ve been hiding down near the river all night. When I saw the same yellow car I told you about earlier, I went out to the road and flagged this officer down as he drove by.”

“Mr. Drew called Chief McGinnis this afternoon and suggested the police patrol this area tonight,” Officer Madison explained. “I volunteered.”

“We sure appreciate your help,” I said. Turning to Juan, I added, “And yours, too, Juan. Why did you come to my house yesterday and then drive away before I could speak to you? How’d you know where I live?”

“Your dad’s name is in the phone book, and I wanted to volunteer to help you catch that guy,” he said, pointing to Davy Reeve, who was sitting on the bottom step. “I do yard work for a family that lives a few streets over from yours, so I decided to stop in and see you while I was in the neighborhood. It dawned on me when I got there that you probably had my name on your list of suspects. That’s when I saw you coming down the street. I was embarrassed and so I left,” Juan explained.

Leaving me and Juan to keep an eye on Doug Spradling, Officer Madison went downstairs and officially arrested Davy Reeve. Relieved, Bess hurried up the stairs and gave me a hug. Luther and Mr. Olsen came up after her. Then the policeman, with his suspect in custody, came up last of all.

“You weren’t a very convincing ghost,” Bess said to Reeve as Officer Madison escorted him into the kitchen.

“Emily was convinced,” Davy retorted. “She’s so scared she’s afraid to come back to work. That’s what she told her husband.”

“No challenge there,” I said. “Why all the pranks anyway, and what were you looking for?”

“Money,” Reeve replied. He went on to tell us what he’d learned of the bootlegger’s stash. He knew nothing we didn’t already know. “I wanted to scare the Olsens out of the house. There’s still a room upstairs I haven’t searched yet.”

“All the money was confiscated years ago when the authorities raided the place,” Luther told him. “You wasted your time.”

“Can’t fault a guy for trying,” Davy said with a shrug.

“Oh, yeah?” I said. “You have no respect for private property. You broke a lot of teapots that didn’t belong to you, and that booby trap on the back staircase could have caused a serious injury.”

Davy Reeve said nothing, but he and Doug Spradling exchanged guilty looks.

“Are you the one who conked Nancy on the head?” Bess asked with a frown.

Reeve nodded.

“And the anonymous phone calls to me and the Olsens?” I asked.

Davy Reeve nodded again.

“I still don’t understand why you shattered the teapots,” Bess said. “In ghost stories, the spooks usually break mirrors.”

“I told him not to break any mirrors,” Doug Spradling spoke up. “Seven years’ bad luck.”

I laughed. “You’ll get seven years’ bad luck all right,” I said, nodding to Officer Madison.

Tea Is Served

After the police hauled away the Cardinal Corners culprits in a squad car, Mrs. Olsen served us hot chocolate and cookies in the kitchen. We were exhilarated by our success, but tired, too, and we went to bed shortly after stacking our dishes in the sink.

Bess and I slept in until nine o’clock the next morning. Glancing at the time, I immediately called my dad at home to tell him what had happened the night before.

“Another case successfully solved. Good work, Nancy.” I could hear the pride in his voice.

“Thanks, Dad,” I replied. “And thanks for having Chief McGinnis send the patrol car.”

When I got up to get dressed, I glanced down at that last drawer again while retrieving my clothes from the armoire. Too impatient to wait, I ran down to the kitchen and got a butter knife. I went back upstairs and now Bess joined in, helping me wedge the knife into the bottom of the drawer.

Mrs. Olsen came upstairs to tell us she’d made waffles for breakfast. She found Bess and me on the floor, battling with her armoire.

“Girls, be careful. That’s a valuable antique,” Mrs. Olsen warned.

Once we’d managed to build up enough leverage, the piece of wood popped up with a jerk.

“Oh dear!” Mrs. Olsen exclaimed. “Did you break it?”

“Not quite,” I replied, pulling up the wood to reveal the drawer’s hidden section.

Her mouth dropped open when I pulled a gray sock out of the back. It was fat and lumpy and obviously stuffed with something.

“What do you think is inside?” I asked, handing it to her.

“I can guess!” Bess declared. “The bootlegger’s forgotten stash.”

Bess was right. Mr. Olsen counted the wad of bills and smoothed them out at the table while we ate. There was almost two thousand dollars.

“That was a small fortune back in the twenties,” Luther said later over coffee.

“I can’t believe it, Nancy!” Mr. Olsen declared. “You caught the intruders and discovered old man Rappapport’s money, too. We don’t know how to thank you.”

Lifting his glass of orange juice, he proposed a toast. “Three cheers for Nancy Drew — detective extraordinaire!”

Everyone raised their glasses and cheered. I blushed. I was greatly relieved to have solved the riddle of the broken teapots in time for the fund-raiser to take place as planned. Finding the money in the armoire was just a lucky coincidence.

On our way home, Bess and I stopped by Julia Jute’s place to pick up our gowns for the tea. “George will be sorry she missed all the excitement,” Bess said when I dropped her off at her house.

“At least she’ll be with us when the last mystery in this case is solved,” I replied.

Bess frowned and asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Ned’s surprise,” I said, smiling. I’ll admit I was more than a little curious.

At home Hannah was waiting eagerly to hear about my adventures from the night before. She admired my gown for the tea and was particularly relieved when I told her that Juan Tabo had not been stalking me. Mrs. Mahoney was thrilled too with my report and promised to inform the committee that the tea would go on as planned.

“I’m really looking forward to the event,” she told me.

“So am I,” I admitted.

The next day, I took my time getting ready. I curled my hair and let Hannah help me pin it up. Then she wrapped a ribbon around my head and fastened a cameo necklace around my neck.

“Nancy, you look beautiful!” Hannah declared.

I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. I didn’t look like myself at all. I’d been transformed into a character from one of Jane Austen’s novels.

Cardinal Corners was transformed too. There were potted flowers and garlands and satiny ribbons on the veranda. Inside, dozens of small tea tables had been set up and draped with chintz table linens. Each was decorated with one of Ms. Waters’s floral bouquets. Even the sugar cubes were decorated with candied violets.

George, very stylish in her red spencer, and Bess, beautiful in blue, were already there when I arrived. “You girls look lovely,” Mrs. Olsen complimented us. Her husband insisted on taking our picture.

In the kitchen Mrs. Fayne was quietly commanding her efficient troop of kitchen help. I was astonished to find Emily Spradling in the kitchen too, carefully placing little pink cakes on a doily-covered platter.

“I’m surprised to see her here today,” I said softly to Mrs. Olsen.

“The poor thing called yesterday in tears,” Mrs. Olsen said. “Emily told me she was horrified by her husband’s arrest and totally ignorant of what he and Davy Reeve had been doing. I feel sorry for her, Nancy.”

“Do you think you can trust her?” I asked, glancing in Emily’s direction.

Mrs. Olsen followed my gaze. “Yes. I’m certain she’s guilty of nothing more than stupidity,” she said. “The poor woman has left her husband and moved in with her mother. She’s even offered to pay for the damaged teapots.”

As paying guests started to arrive, Mrs. Mahoney and Ms. Waters, wearing beautiful Regency costumes, greeted them at the door. George, Bess, and I stayed busy taking tea orders and carrying delicious refreshments to each table. Everyone admired our dresses and oohed and aahed over the food.

“These are beautiful tarts!” Bess declared when Mrs. Fayne gave us platters to carry into the parlor.

“But there’s no bullet pudding,” George said as she passed by with a plate of scones. Bess and I laughed and pretended to pout.

I was carefully carrying a bunny-shaped teapot to a table of chattering women in the back of the parlor when Bess hurried by and whispered, “Ned’s here!” She was grinning from ear to ear.

I set the bunny teapot down carefully on the table and rushed to the front door as fast as my long dress would allow. Ned, his mother, Deirdre, and Mrs. Shannon were standing in the foyer shaking hands with Agnes Mahoney. My mouth dropped open as soon as I saw him. Ned was wearing an authentic Regency period costume, complete with tan-colored pantaloons and knee-high boots. He looked so handsome! All the ladies thought so, and they made quite a fuss over him. Deirdre was clinging to his arm like a barnacle to a ship.

Seeing me, Ned smiled and raised a hand in greeting. He quickly shrugged his arm from Deirdre’s grasp and hurried over to me. He was blushing a little. “Nancy, you look great!” He took my hands in his. “My mom insisted that you’d get a kick out of seeing me in this getup.” He glanced down at his costume and smiled shyly. “This is the surprise.”

“Ned, I love it! You’re even more handsome than Mr. Darcy,” I declared, naming the dashing hero in Pride and Prejudice.

“Well, you’re more beautiful than Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Ned replied.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” I replied, smiling up at him.

“I think you look awesome too, Ned,” Bess said, hurrying past him with a platter of tiny sandwiches.

“Ditto,” George declared. Deirdre came up then, trying to reclaim Ned’s arm, and George thrust a tray of teacups and saucers at her. “Time to go to work, DeeDee,” she said.

Needless to say, the event was a huge success. The costumes set the right tone, and Mrs. Fayne’s refreshments received rave reviews. But Ned’s surprise was not the only one I received that afternoon. When Mrs. Mahoney announced the generous amount of funds raised for the library, everyone applauded.

But then she added, “Mr. and Mrs. Olsen would like to donate an additional two thousand dollars in honor of Miss Nancy Drew. Without Nancy’s perseverance and clever detecting skills, this event would not have been able to take place.”

The applause was deafening. To my embarrassment, Mrs. Mahoney made me step forward and take a little curtsy. I made my escape as quickly as possible and found the Olsens on the veranda, waving to departing guests.

“Nancy, we’re so pleased with what you’ve done,” Mrs. Olsen said, giving me a hug. “We were going to offer you the money found in the armoire as a reward, but Bess and George said you’d prefer that we donate it to the library fund.”

“They’re right, as usual,” I said with a pleased grin.

“We asked Chief McGinnis about it,” Mr. Olsen added. “He said they didn’t need the money for evidence. The bootlegger’s case was solved years ago, and we could do whatever we wanted to with the cash.”

I thanked them for their generosity and hurried to the kitchen to find Bess and George.

Later I had a quiet moment alone with Ned. We sat together on the porch swing, drinking tea and sharing a buttered scone.

“All’s well that ends well,” I said with a happy sigh.

“That’s Shakespeare, not Jane Austen,” he quipped.

I punched him lightly. “You know what I mean,” I said.

“Yes, it’s your way of saying, ‘Another case solved,”’ he replied, putting an arm around my shoulders.

We sat in comfortable silence, listening to the birds chirp and twitter. It had been a wonderful day, and I had enjoyed every bit of it, particularly when Mrs. Shannon left early with one of her friends and insisted on taking Deirdre with them. I hoped the Olsens would live happily ever after at Cardinal Corners. I could relax now too for a while — until the next perplexing mystery came along.

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