Dare to read: Нэнси Дрю и Братья Харди
Dare to read: Нэнси Дрю и Братья Харди
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ПРИЯТНОГО ЧТЕНИЯ!
Carolyn Keene
Nancy Drew Girl Detective: Volume Twenty-Eight
Mardi Gras Masquerade
Copyright, 2008, by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
What could be more fun than a masked Mardi Gras ball at a so-called haunted mansion? George brings her digital camera, insisting that she's going to bust some ghosts. I'm just looking forward to a night of dressing up and dancing with Ned and my friends.
Soon the fun turns freaking, though — things go haywire and everyone starts to wonder if the ghost stories could actually be true. But when Deirdre Shannon's antique tiara is snatched, I'm certain the crook is a guest, not a ghoul.
Let me introduce myself. I’m Nancy Drew.
My friends call me Nancy. My enemies call me a lot of other things, like “that girl who cooked my goose.” They actually sometimes speak like that, but what can you expect from criminals? See, I’m a detective. Well, not really. I mean, I don’t have a license or anything. I don’t carry a badge or a gun, in part because I wouldn’t touch a gun even if I could, and also because I’m just not old enough. But I am old enough to know when something isn’t right, when somebody’s getting an unfair deal, when someone’s done something they shouldn’t do. And I know how to stop them, catch them, and get them into the hands of the law, where they belong. I take those things seriously, and I’m almost never wrong.
My best friends, Bess and George, might not totally agree with me. They tell me I’m wrong a lot, and that they have to cover for me all of the time just to make me look good. Bess would tell you I dress badly. I call it casual. George would tell you I’m not focused. By that she’d mean that once again I forgot to fill my car with gas or bring enough money to buy lunch. But they both know I’m always focused when it comes to crime. Always.
Nancy Drew
Party Spirits
“Ow!” I shrieked. “You’re killing me!”
“Chill out, Nancy.” My friend Bess Marvin tugged at the zipper on the back of my dress. “Now, hold your breath.”
I sucked in my stomach. Bess gave one last yank, and the zipper slid up without pinching any more skin.
Exhaling in a sigh of relief, I turned toward the full-length mirror in the corner of my bedroom. “Okay,” I said, surveying my reflection. “That was worth it. This dress is totally amazing.”
Bess came over and stood beside me. “We could both pass for Mardi Gras queens,” she said with a smile.
I nodded, still staring at my gown. It was gorgeous — the bodice was mostly green satin, but a strip of multicolored harlequin-style fabric ran down the middle, extending all the way to the bottom of the full skirt. When we’d picked it out at the local costume shop, Bess had insisted that green would be perfect with my strawberry-blond hair and blue eyes. Looking at it now, I had to admit she was right.
My eyes slid over to Bess’s reflection. With her peaches-and-cream complexion, curvy figure, and flair for fashion, she always looked good. But now she was absolutely stunning in an old-fashioned blue-and-gold gown made of satin, brocade, and lace. Velvet gloves covered her arms up to the elbows, and her blond hair was swept up into an elaborate style topped off with feathers and glittering beads.
Bess’s cousin, George Fayne, glanced up at us. She had spent the last few minutes lounging on my bed, whistling “When the Saints Go Marching In” and fiddling with the buttons on her fancy new digital camera.
“Enough with the primping already,” she said, rolling over onto her stomach. The skirt of her jester-style costume was hiked up over her knees, and her matching mask was perched atop her short, dark hair like a pair of sunglasses. “How long does it take you two to get dressed, anyway?”
“Hey, watch your skirt,” Bess told her. “The costume shop isn’t going to be happy if you bring it back with the half the beads missing.”
“Whatever.” George sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, making the bells on her ends of her curly-toed shoes tinkle. “I just want to get this show on the road. When’s Ned getting here?”
I checked my watch. Unlike me, my boyfriend Ned Nickerson is almost always right on time. “Five minutes,” I said.
“Sounds like someone’s anxious to go out and show all of River Heights that she actually does know how to put on a dress,” Bess teased her cousin.
I giggled as George rolled her eyes. She’s the world’s biggest tomboy. I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen her in a skirt of any kind, and I’ve known her for most of my life. Jeans and sneakers are much more her style.
“No way,” I told Bess. “George doesn’t want anyone to know it’s her. That’s why she’s wearing a mask.”
“Very funny.” George held up her camera as Bess snorted with laughter. “You know why I’m going to the party. Everyone in town says the old Ayers place is haunted. You guys won’t be laughing when I use this baby to prove it.”
“Since when do you believe in ghosts?” I asked. George might be unrealistic and impractical about some things — like how much money she can really afford to spend at the camera store, for instance — but she doesn’t usually believe in anything supernatural.
She shrugged. “I usually don’t,” she admitted. “But if I can get something weird on camera tonight and sell it to a TV show, that should pay back the cost of my new digital and then some!” She snapped a picture of me and Bess.
“Well, I’m glad you’re coming tonight, no matter how silly the reason,” I told her, leaning toward the mirror over my dresser to dab on some lip gloss. “I just hope this fund-raiser is successful. Poor old Mr. Ayers has been having a lot of trouble keeping up his house lately.”
Jackson Ayers was the owner of a gorgeous old Georgian mansion over on West Union Street. The place had been in his family for generations, and it was easier to imagine George in a ballerina’s tutu than it was to imagine Jackson living anywhere else. However, it was no secret that he’d been having trouble keeping up the place. Jackson had inherited a nice nest egg along with the house. He’d also had a long, successful career at Rackham Industries, the local tech conglomerate. But in the years since his retirement, he’s had to deal with several major home repairs, rising property taxes, and bad investments. All that has whittled his fortune down to nearly nothing.
Luckily River Heights has a small but active historical society. The society wanted to help by raising money for improvements so Jackson could apply to list the mansion with the Antique Homes Registry. That way the place would be preserved even after he was gone. An Ayers family connection to New Orleans had inspired the idea of a Mardi Gras-style masquerade ball. And if what I’d heard was true, at least half the town had bought tickets for tonight’s big event.
“I hope the ball raises lots of money too.” Bess twirled in front of the mirror, smiling as her skirt flared out. “I’m just glad we get to donate to a worthy cause and dance the night away at the same time!”
“Girls! Your chauffeur’s here!” Hannah Gruen’s voice floated up the stairs. Hannah has been an important part of my family ever since my mother died when I was three. Her official job description is “housekeeper,” but she’s more like a family member to Dad and me. I can’t imagine what we’d do without her.
“Don’t forget your mask,” Bess reminded me as I headed for the door.
“Oops.” I scurried back and grabbed it off the desk. Unlike George’s, which was held on by a piece of elastic like a Halloween mask, mine was perched on a glitter-encrusted stick. I held it up and peered at my friends through the eye holes, feeling very glamorous. “Ready to go?”
Soon all three of us were climbing into Ned’s car. I held up my skirt to keep it from touching the wet ground. It had rained all morning and there were puddles everywhere.
Ned reached over to give my hand a squeeze as I climbed into the front seat beside him. “You look gorgeous,” he told me.
“Thanks.” I took in his outfit. He was wearing a dark suit with a harlequin vest that matched my dress. His brown hair was slicked back, and a black mask decorated with swirls of gold, green, and purple glitter lay on the dashboard. “You don’t look too shabby yourself.”
“Watch my skirt!” Bess exclaimed, scooting across the backseat as George flopped down beside her. She gave George a shove.
“Hey! Watch the Nikon!” George yanked her camera out of harm’s way.
“George is planning to do a little ghost busting tonight,” I told Ned.
“Looking for the Ayers ghost, huh, George?” Ned smiled. “The Bugle did a little human-interest piece on that last Halloween.” Ned’s father is editor of the local newspaper, and Ned works there part-time.
“Uh-huh. I saw that article when I did some more research on the Internet last night.” George’s voice took on the eager tone that she usually reserved for talk of her latest electronic or computer gadget. “It’s a pretty cool story. Around the turn of the last century, this guy Maxwell Ayers — that’s Jackson Ayers’s grandfather, I think — moved to New Orleans after college. While he was there, he met this beautiful young woman named Lisette.”
“Ooh, that’s a pretty name,” Bess put in.
George nodded, looking a bit impatient. “Anyway, the two of them fell in love and blah, blah, blah.”
“You’re such a romantic, George,” Ned said, sounding amused.
George ignored him. “Lisette was from kind of an important New Orleans family. They lived there for generations and were very wealthy and all,” she continued, leaning back against the car door. “Her mother was once the queen of the Mardi Gras parade, which I guess is a pretty big deal down there. And everyone thought Lisette was destined for the same thing, since she was so beautiful and charming and all that.”
“Is that what happened? Did Lisette become a Mardi Gras queen?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at my friends in the backseat.
George shook her head. “Not exactly. See, she and Maxwell Ayers were totally planning to get married, stay in New Orleans, and create a life there together. But then Maxwell’s father died suddenly, which left his mother and a bunch of younger siblings with nobody to support them.” She shrugged. “So they called Maxwell to come back to River Heights and take care of them.”
“Sad,” Ned commented as he turned onto Bluff Street. “Kind of a bummer for Maxwell, too.”
“Totally,” George agreed. “But what could he do? He had to go. He talked Lisette into coming north with him, promising her that one day soon, when the family was financially secure again, the two of them would go back to New Orleans. She was in love, so she agreed, even though she’d never been more than like ten miles from New Orleans in her whole life. They came up here and moved into the family mansion.”
“The one where Jackson Ayers lives now?” Ned asked.
George nodded. “The same one we’re going to tonight,” she said. “Maxwell went into the anvil business like his father, and Lisette took up housekeeping alongside her mother-in-law. But she never really got used to the Midwest — too cold, too different, whatever. She always pined for New Orleans. To try to make her feel better, Maxwell built a solarium onto the back of the house — that’s like a big greenhouse.”
“Duh,” Bess said. “We know what a solarium is.”
George rolled her eyes. “Anyway, he had it planted with palm trees and all kinds of other Gulf Coast type plants. He even brought in a big potted magnolia tree, since that was her favorite flower back home. She spent tons of time out there just wandering around and smelling the flowers — especially during those long Midwestern winters.”
Bess gave a shiver. “I don’t blame her,” she said. “I’d like to have a southern solarium to hang out in myself, especially around February when we get our umpteenth foot of snow.”
“So did they ever move back to New Orleans?” I asked. I’d heard some of the ghostly rumors about the Ayers place, of course, but hadn’t paid much attention to the details. Like George, I didn’t believe in ghosts.
“No,” George said. “A few years passed, Maxwell and Lisette had a couple of kids, and they were still talking about going back. But before they managed it, Lisette died.”
Bess gasped. “Oh, no!” she said. “How did she die?”
George shrugged. “I couldn’t get a definite answer to that in my research,” she said. “Some people claimed it was from a chill. Ironic, right? But other sources say she died in childbirth. Either way, the story is that to this day she remains a ghost trapped in the cold old house where she never really felt at home.”
“Wow,” Bess said. “That’s sad.”
“So why do people think the house is haunted?” I asked. “I mean, I’ve always heard that it is. But have there been actual sightings?”
“I looked into that, too.” George tapped her fingers on her camera. “Over the years, several people — neighbors mostly, or visitors, I guess — have claimed to hear riffs of jazz when no radio is playing, or catch a whiff of magnolia flowers when there are none around. Oh, and sometimes they say ordinary lights start flashing green, gold, and purple.”
Bess looked perplexed. “What does that mean?”
“Mardi Gras colors.” Ned glanced at her in the rearview. “Like Nancy’s dress.”
“Oh!” Bess said, nodding. “That’s right.”
“There were also reports of people seeing a lone, shadowy figure at an upstairs window gazing off toward the south,” George said. “Or seeing the same figure in the solarium drifting around among the palms.”
I turned and smiled at her. “Sounds like you’re writing a pitch for that TV show Ghostly Sightings,” I teased.
She grinned. “The thought has crossed my mind. It’s all about marketing, right?”
Ned stopped at a red light and glanced over at me. “The whole story sounds like a mystery to me,” he said with a wink. “Maybe you could solve it tonight, Nancy — the case of the cold ghost.”
“Very funny.” I’m pretty well known around town for being an amateur detective. There’s no case, large or small, that I won’t tackle. But in my mind, ghost stories don’t qualify. They’re just that — stories. Nothing more.
Bess leaned forward to peer out the window. “We’re almost there,” she said, sounding excited.
I looked and spotted the old Ayers place halfway down the next block. It was handsome and dignified rising up in the center of the tree-lined street. Light poured out of every window downstairs, showing off the architectural details of the imposing facade. Cars were parked in almost every available spot along the curb, and people in Mardi Gras — style finery were laughing and chatting and hurrying toward the mansion. Even with the car windows shut, we could hear the lively jazz music drifting out into the night.
“Looks like you might be out of luck tonight, George,” Ned said as we reached the house. “With all the lights and activity, the ghost will probably be hiding under the bed all night.”
For once George didn’t seem to have a retort. I glanced back and saw her staring out the side window. Her face had suddenly gone white beneath the blush and lipstick Bess had so carefully applied.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“That!” George gasped, pointing out the window with a trembling finger.
Crowning Glory
I followed George’s gaze. She was pointing to a couple around our own age climbing out of an expensive sports car just across from the mansion.
Bess had seen them as well. “Oh,” she said. “It’s Deirdre.”
“Right.” George made a face. “A scarier sight than any ghost.”
To say that George and Deirdre Shannon don’t get along is an understatement. Then again, Deirdre doesn’t get along with much of anybody. She’s what Hannah might call a piece of work. George prefers to call her something like the rude, spoiled rich girl who thinks she’s better than everyone else.
As for me, I do my best to stay out of Deirdre’s way. That’s not always easy, though. He father is a successful attorney, just like mine, and sometimes that seems to give her the idea we’re in competition with each other. Plus it doesn’t help that she’s had a crush on Ned for practically forever — not that she ever has any shortage of dates. She seems to have a new guy every other week.
“Wow, check out her amazing dress,” Bess said.
George snorted. “I would, if I could stop staring at the ridiculous little crown she’s wearing,” she said. “Leave it to Deirdre! She must have finally declared herself Princess of the World.”
I had to agree that Deirdre was dressed in an outfit that could only be called elaborate, even by Mardi Gras standards. Her gown was an ornate confection of gold brocade and champagne silk, with glass beads dangling here and there on the low-cut bodice and full skirt. She was holding a gold, heavily feathered cat’s-eye mask on a crystal wand. Her hands were covered by silk gloves, and a jewel-encrusted tiara sparkled brightly atop her dark tresses. She really did look like royalty, which was probably exactly what she was going for.
Ned maneuvered the car into the last parking space on the block, just a couple of spots down from where Deirdre’s masked date was parked. We all climbed out just as the pair walked by.
“Hello, Deirdre,” Ned said. “How’s it going, Adam?”
I blinked, belatedly recognizing Adam Fielding behind his mask. I’d known Adam forever, though I hadn’t seen him since he’d left for college in Chicago the previous fall. I’d heard that he and Deirdre had been going out for over a month, which was practically a record for Deirdre. Like I said, she goes through boyfriends quickly.
“Hi, Adam,” I said. “How’s school?”
“Good,” he replied. “I’m out on spring break this week, so I thought I’d come hang out in River Heights. And, uh, dress up like a complete dork,” he added sheepishly, glancing down at his outfit. He was dressed to match Deirdre, in a black tuxedo with a gold cummerbund and a black-and-gold feathered mask. The whole thing was topped off with a long, black cape with champagne lining. It was a far cry from his usual understated preppy look.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Adam,” Deirdre said, reaching up to adjust a stray piece of his dark hair. “You look wonderful.”
“I like your outfit, Deirdre,” Bess said as we stepped into the street to cross over to the mansion. “It’s very festive. And that tiara looks nice on you. Is it new?”
George coughed the words stupid crown into her hand. Deirdre raised one hand to gently touch the edge of the sparkling tiara.
“It’s not mine,” she said, ignoring George’s comment. “It belongs to Olde River Jewelers. Adam’s father loaned it to me for tonight’s event. We thought it was only appropriate, since the tiara has a history with Mardi Gras and this house.” She smiled smugly. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? As soon as I saw it, I knew it would go perfectly with my outfit.”
“A history with the Ayers place?” I asked Deirdre, curious. “What do you mean?”
Deirdre shrugged. “I don’t know every little detail,” she said with a touch of annoyance. “The important thing is, it works with the dress. It’s like an old Ayers family heirloom or something, I guess.”
Adam cleared his throat. “Actually, the tiara belonged to Mr. Ayers’s grandmother, who brought it with her when she moved here from New Orleans. Her name was Lisette Ayers.”
George gasped. “The ghost lady!” she blurted out.
“Ghosts?” Deirdre wrinkled her nose. “I knew you were pretty juvenile, Georgia. But I didn’t realize you were a nutjob, too.”
“Takes one to know one, DeeDee,” George retorted, lingering over the nickname, which Deirdre hates just as much as George hates her own full name.
I ignored their bickering. “So the tiara was Lisette’s?” I asked Adam. “How did your dad end up with it?” Adam’s father owns the nicest jewelry store in town. He sells lots of antique stuff as well as regular jewelry, but I was still surprised to learn that he had the tiara. It didn’t seem in character for Jackson Ayers to let an important family heirloom out of his hands.
Adam glanced around, as if to make sure nobody else was listening. “Well, I’m sure you know that Mr. Ayers has been having some, well, financial issues these past few years. After all, that’s why we’re all here tonight, right?”
“Oh.” Now I understood. “So he sold the tiara to Olde River Jewelers in order to raise funds?”
“Something to do with replacing the plumbing, I think.” Adam shrugged. “Anyway, it’s been in the vault at the store ever since. I think the reason Dad didn’t put it on display was because he thought it would make Mr. Ayers feel bad.”
“That was nice of him,” I said politely, though I wasn’t quite convinced that that was why the tiara had stayed in the vault. Mr. Fielding hadn’t built his jewelry shop into one of the most successful businesses in River Heights by making decisions based on personal sympathy. “So was the tiara —”
The rest of my question was swallowed up by the sudden deafening roar of a motor coming toward us. “Look out!” Ned shouted, grabbing my arm and yanking me over to the sidewalk.
A second later a black sports car zoomed past and screeched to a halt in front of one of the neighbor’s driveways. As soon as the motor cut off, the door swung open. The driver, a slim, short young man with dark hair, climbed out. It was hard to see much else, since he was wearing a black mask to match his old-fashioned tuxedo.
“Nice driving, bozo!” George called. “You could’ve killed us!”
The masked man strode toward us. “Who have we here?” he asked in a husky voice that practically oozed rebellion. He whipped off his mask, revealing an overly angular, but still good-looking face — a face I’d never seen before. “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart!”
He was talking to Deirdre. Adam immediately stepped forward with a slight frown.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said. “I’m Adam Fielding.”
“Good for you.” The stranger didn’t take his eyes off Deirdre or acknowledge Adam’s outstretched hand. “You know, I thought this party was going to be utterly and insufferably lame. But now I’m glad I’m here.” He suddenly swept into a bow in front of Deirdre, practically brushing the ground with his hand. “I’m Derek. And you don’t have to tell me who you are. I can already see that you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”
Deirdre pursed her lips, looking amused — and flattered. “Nice to meet you, Derek,” she said. “I’m Deirdre.”
She held out her hand. Derek kissed it. “Charmed and delighted,” he pronounced.
I shot Bess an amused glance. Obviously this Derek, whoever he was, had a flair for the dramatic.
“Look, buddy,” Adam said, stepping forward with a scowl. He reached out and poked the newcomer on the shoulder. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your hands off my date.”
Derek smirked. “Oh, really? I don’t hear her complaining. Why don’t you let the lady speak for herself?”
Adam’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I have a better idea —” he began.
Ned hurriedly stepped forward. “Guys, guys,” he said soothingly. “This is supposed to be a party. Let’s relax and remember we’re here to have fun, okay?”
“You’re right, Ned.” Adam relaxed, then stepped over and put an arm around Deirdre’s shoulders.
“Hey!” she complained, shrugging him off. “Watch it — it took two hours for Margaretta to do my hair this afternoon!”
“It was worth it, gorgeous,” Derek told her, reaching over and quickly squeezing her hand. “See you inside.”
With that, he took off across the street without a word or a glance for the rest of us. A moment later he disappeared through the front door of the mansion.
“Interesting guy,” George commented.
“He seems nice,” Deirdre said with a self-satisfied smile. “I wonder why I’ve never seen him around. This town could use a few more people with his sense of… discernment.” She let her gaze — and her smirk — wander over toward Bess.
I rolled my eyes. It didn’t take a detective to figure out what she was thinking. Deirdre likes to think of herself as the prettiest girl in town, and the fact that Bess usually gets more male attention than she does has always bugged her big-time.
“Actually, he seemed like kind of a jerk to me.” Adam was still scowling. “He’d better not get in my face again, or he’ll regret it.”
Bess smiled and touched his arm. “Don’t let him get to you, Adam,” she said. “It’s obvious he was just trying to push your buttons.”
“Yeah.” Adam shook his head. “Maybe you’re right, Bess. He’s not worth it.”
“That’s the spirit. Now come on, people,” Ned said. “Let’s head inside. It’s cold out here.”
I shivered slightly, realizing he was right. A breeze had sprung up when the sun set, and the dampness left over from last night’s rain made the air bone-chillingly cold.
“Let’s go,” I said, taking Ned’s arm and heading up the front walk. The music was louder there, and I hummed along with the lively Dixieland tune.
I glanced up at the facade of the grand old mansion. Its redbrick exterior was luminous with a rich antique patina and bright white woodwork. The downstairs curtains were pulled back, allowing pockets of light to seep out onto the front lawn. Glancing up, I caught a flash of movement in one of the upstairs windows. I looked more closely, squinting at the window on the far left. As I did, a fragment of music drifted past my ears — not the loud, cheery party tune from inside, but a soft, jazzy, rather melancholy riff.
I tilted my head curiously, but the sound had faded. “Did you guys hear that?” I asked.
“Hear what?” George said, shifting her camera to her other hand.
I shook my head and smiled. “Never mind,” I said, no longer certain I’d heard or seen anything. Maybe George’s ghost stories were getting to me.
Soon we were plunging into the party. The big front rooms of the mansion were decked out in streamers, confetti, and balloons. I spotted Jackson Ayers standing near the door. He was decked out for the occasion too, in a snow-white suit with a green shirt and handkerchief, a gold tie, spats, a mask, and a purple top hat and cane. His face was glowing with excitement as he hurried toward us.
“Welcome, welcome, young people!” he sang out, a broad smile stretching across his thin face. “Laissez les bons temps rouler! That’s a well-known New Orleans saying meaning ‘Let the good times roll.’”
“Looks like you got a great turnout tonight, Mr. Ayers,” Ned said, raising his voice to be heard above the music.
Jackson had just noticed Deirdre’s tiara. His smile faded slightly, and a shadow passed over his face. But then he rubbed his hands together and glanced around the crowded room. “Yes, yes,” he said. “It’s so gratifying and humbling to know that so many people want to support this place. I hope we raise enough to repair the old solarium. Sadly, it’s fallen into quite a state over these last few years.”
“Oh, no!” George peered over his shoulder toward the hallways that led to the back of the house. “I’ve heard so much about the solarium — I was hoping to get a good look at it tonight.”
“I’m afraid you can’t do more than peep in through the windows,” Jackson said, shaking his head. “Much of the glass is loose in its frames, and some of the panels are cracking, so it’s completely off-limits for the time being. It’s not safe enough for anyone to go inside until it’s repaired.”
George’s face fell. “Oh, that’s too bad,” she mumbled.
As Jackson moved on to greet someone else, I grabbed George and pulled her aside. “Let me guess,” I murmured. “You were planning to do some ghost busting in the solarium tonight?”
“It’s a totally ghostly hot spot,” George hissed back. “I mean, that’s where Lisette spent most of her time, according to the stories. And there have been tons of mysterious sightings there. I’m sure I could get some spooky photos.”
Deirdre and Adam had wandered off, and Ned was talking to one of his professors nearby, but Bess had overheard. “George,” she said sternly, “promise us you won’t try to sneak in there tonight.”
I nodded. “You heard what Mr. Ayers said. It’s not safe.”
“That’s interesting coming from you, Nancy.” George scowled at me. “You’re the one who’s always sneaking into dangerous places when you’re on the trail of some mystery or other.”
“That’s different,” I said.
“Promise us!” Bess added warningly.
George rolled her eyes. “All right, all right. I promise. I’m sure I can find something spooky to photograph in the rest of the house.”
“That’s the spirit,” I said, then giggled as I realized what I’d said. “No pun intended.”
Just then Adam’s father, Mr. Fielding, spotted me and hurried over. He was dressed as a nineteenth-century Southern gentleman, complete with a big gold pocket watch bouncing against his portly belly. “Nancy Drew!” he exclaimed. “Nice to see you here. Is Carson around?”
“Hi, Mr. Fielding,” I said. “No, Dad couldn’t make it tonight. He’s out of town on business.”
“Ah, too bad he has to miss it. Well, enjoy the party.”
Ned, Bess, and I continued to circulate for the next few minutes. Practically everyone we knew was there, from Mayor Simmons and her family to Chief McGinnis of the River Heights Police Department. Even half of my old elementary school teachers had shown up! Almost everyone had thrown themselves into the spirit of the theme, dressing up in gowns or formal suits, or wearing jester costumes or other traditional outfits. Most also wore fancy masks decorated with feathers, glitter, or Mardi Gras beads.
George stayed with us, but I could tell she was distracted. She kept fiddling with her camera and glancing toward the back of the house.
“Hey, is that a ghost over there?” I whispered to her. “Oops! No, sorry. It’s just a curtain.”
“Very funny,” George replied.
Bess giggled. “I see one! Quick, George, take a picture! Oops, never mind. It’s just Mrs. Mahoney.”
George made a face at her. “Just wait until something really mysterious happens,” she said. “That’s when I —”
CRASH!
The floor shook as a loud sudden noise cut off the rest of whatever George was about to say. It had come from the upstairs — directly over our heads.
Looking for Trouble
George was sprinting toward the steps before the echo faded, her camera clutched in one hand and her skirt gathered up out of the way with the other. “Be back soon!” she called over her shoulder.
Bess chuckled. “Think she’ll catch any ghosts?”
“I don’t know,” Ned said. “Do ghosts usually push over vases? Because that’s what it sounded like.”
“I thought ghosts didn’t have real bodies,” I said with a smile. “Isn’t that how they drift through walls? How could they push over a vase, even if they wanted to?” “I think you’re right.” Bess glanced upward. “It was probably just a clumsy party guest.”
All around us, other guests were buzzing about the sudden noise. Some of them drifted in the direction of the steps while others pressed back near the front door looking slightly nervous. I wondered if people were more worried about the ghost stories or the house’s general state of disrepair.
“I think I’ll take advantage of this distraction to grab some refreshments,” Ned said.
“I’ll come with you,” Bess said.
I suddenly felt thirsty myself, but something was distracting me. “Bring me a soda, okay?” I’d just noticed Adam doing his best to hustle Deirdre out the nearby side door. I wandered a little closer as my friends took off through the crowd. I wasn’t trying to be nosy, but I was curious.
“Forget it!” Deirdre’s annoyed voice rose over the hubbub of the party. “Are you insane? I’m not going outside because some clumsy dork knocked something over upstairs. The wind will mess up my hair.”
“Just for a minute,” Adam said. “You know, until we’re sure things are safe.”
“Grow up, Adam.” Deirdre rolled her eyes dramatically. “I never realized you were such a chicken.” She reached up with one hand to adjust her tiara, and then tilted her chin up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going over to say hello to Mr. Halloran. He’s one of Daddy’s most important clients, you know.”
She swept off toward the other end of the room. Adam’s shoulders slumped as he watched her go.
I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sympathy. It had to be difficult dating Deirdre sometimes — most of the time, probably.
“Hey, Adam,” I said in a friendly voice, walking over to him. “Enjoying the party so far?”
He blinked at me. “Oh, hi again, Nancy,” he said, tilting his mask up onto his head. “Sure, it’s great. How about you?”
“Definitely. I’m glad so many people are here tonight. The fund-raiser looks like quite a success.” I shot a quick look up at the ceiling; several sets of footsteps were faintly audible from upstairs. “I just hope nothing important was broken just now.”
Adam smiled faintly, glancing up as well. “I wonder if that was the Ayers ghost.”
“Hey, you never know.” I laughed. For some reason, that little burst of melancholy music I’d heard outside — or thought I’d heard — flashed into my mind. But I shook off the thought as quickly as it came.
Adam turned to stare at Deirdre, who was chatting animatedly with a group of people near the front door. I cleared my throat, feeling awkward and sort of wishing I hadn’t come over. Adam clearly had it bad. I scanned my mind for a handy bit of small talk.
“So, Adam,” I said, “what are you doing this summer? Coming home to work for your dad at the store again?”
He grimaced. “Not if I can help it,” he said. “Actually, I’m planning to spend most of the summer break in London.” His expression brightened as he spoke. “A buddy of mine up at school knows about a flat we can rent, and a bunch of us are going in on it together. Maybe Deirdre, too, if I can talk her into it.”
“Sounds like fun.” I smiled politely. Yep, he definitely had it bad if he actually believed he and Deirdre would still be together by summer. After all, that was still months away. Obviously poor Adam hadn’t yet figured out that Deirdre’s relationships rarely lasted longer than her haircuts. “Oh, there’s George — excuse me, I need to go talk to her.”
“Sure. See you around.” Adam’s gaze had already returned to Deirdre.
George emerged from the back hallway where the stairs were. She saw me and hurried over, still clutching her camera.
“Get any ghost photos?” I asked, doing my best to keep a straight face.
George shook her head. “No supernatural forces involved this time, unfortunately,” she said. “It was just that obnoxious Derek guy. Remember — from outside?”
“You mean Deirdre’s not-so-secret admirer? How could I forget?” I joked. “What did he knock over?”
“A lamp,” George said. “He claims he didn’t have anything to do with it, but I saw him earlier, lurking around on the balcony outside Lisette’s old bedroom.” She shrugged. “It was definitely him. Nobody else was even upstairs when I got there.”
I smiled. “I don’t know. Sounds like circumstantial evidence to me.”
“Thanks, Detective Drew,” George said. But her smile faded as she watched Derek himself come down the stairs and wade into the crowd. “Actually, it’s probably a really good thing you’re here. That way you can take the case if anything just happens to mysteriously disappear while that jerk is around.” She looked meaningfully toward Derek, then around the antique-filled room.
I chuckled. “Don’t worry. If anything suspicious happens, I bet Adam will be more than willing to question Derek for us.”
I glanced over to where I’d last seen Adam, but he’d already disappeared. The party was getting more crowded by the minute, and I couldn’t even see Deirdre anymore.
“There you are!” Bess exclaimed, hurrying toward us with Ned at her heels. They were each carrying two sodas. Bess handed one to George, and I took the other from Ned. “It’s so packed in here we practically had to send out a search party.”
Just then a new song started, a lilting, jazzy waltz. Ned hummed along, tapping his foot. “Enough ghost talk,” he said. His mask had been perched on top of his head, making his hair stick out. He snapped it back over his face and held out his arm to me. “Life is for the living, and I feel like dancing. Shall we, lovely lady?”
I took his arm. “We shall, mysterious sir.”
George rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”
Ned and I swept out onto the dance floor and found a spot among the couples already spinning and dipping. The two of us had danced together countless times, but somehow it felt extra special tonight. The dress, the masks, the jazz, the mansion, and the Mardi Gras spirit — I’m not overly romantic, but I’ll admit I was falling under a little bit of a spell. I closed my eyes and leaned against Ned, wondering if this was what it had felt like when Maxwell Ayers and Lisette first danced together way down south in New Orleans…
“Excuse us!” Deirdre’s voice rang out over the music. She was elbowing her way to the center of the dance floor with Adam in tow. A few other couples backed off, looking startled.
“Looks like those two made up,” I whispered into Ned’s ear.
Ned followed my gaze. “You mean after the Derek incident?”
“That, too,” I said with a shrug. “They had a bit of a tiff a few minutes ago.”
Deirdre was wearing her usual smug smile. Even with the loud music pouring out of the speakers, her voice carried as she talked to her partner.
“Have you noticed all the attention my outfit is getting?” she was saying. “I mean, this dress is pretty spectacular all on its own. But you were totally right, Adam — the tiara just pulls the whole look together. Although, Margaretta also deserves a tiny bit of credit — if she hadn’t been able to pull off the hairstyle I told her to…”
There was more, but I wasn’t listening. My eyes widened as I spotted Derek pushing his way between dancers, making a beeline for Deirdre and Adam.
“Uh-oh,” I muttered. “Here comes trouble.”
Derek’s black mask covered much of his face, but it was easy to see that his gaze was focused on Deirdre. He swept into a deep bow in front of her.
“May I cut in?” It didn’t really come out as a question so much as a command.
Deirdre simpered. “Oh, I don’t know…,” she began with a giggle.
“Get lost, buddy,” Adam growled, spinning Deirdre around to block her from Derek with his own body. “She’s with me.”
“There you go again,” Derek said. “Making the lady’s decisions for her. Afraid of what she’ll decide on her own?”
This time Adam let go of Deirdre and turned to face Derek straight on. Adam was quite a bit taller, not to mention broader through the shoulders. A few of the couples dancing nearby shot the two guys nervous glances and moved a little farther away. Bess looked over at me and widened her eyes with concern.
“Yikes,” I whispered to Ned. “If Derek doesn’t back down…”
Ned nodded grimly. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Adam’s always had a bit of a temper, and it looks like he’s at his breaking point.”
“Look, dude,” Adam said. “You seem a little slow on the uptake, so let me spell it out for you. She’s. Not. Interested.”
Deirdre rolled her eyes. “Oh, Adam,” she said disdainfully. “You don’t have to get all macho about it. Please.”
Adam ignored her, still glowering at Derek. “Leave us alone.”
“Are you going to make me?” Derek retorted, stepping closer.
Ned hurried over before Adam could respond. “Guys, guys,” he said quickly. “Let’s not cause a scene here, okay?”
I grabbed Deirdre and pulled her aside. It was pretty obvious that she wasn’t going to help. She was probably enjoying all the extra attention too much.
“This is supposed to be Mr. Ayers’s night, not yours,” I reminded her. “I don’t want your dysfunctional love life to mess this up for him.”
“Whatever.” Deirdre rolled her eyes. “All this drama is getting really tired,” she announced loudly. “I’m going to powder my nose.”
She swept off toward the back of the house, pushing her way between dancers.
I went over to Bess. “That was interesting, wasn’t it?”
Bess nodded toward the guys. “Looks like Ned got things simmered down, at least.”
Sure enough, the fight appeared to have fizzled out. Derek was rolling his eyes at Ned, and Adam was staring moodily after Deirdre, who was still pushing her way toward the back of the room.
“Think I’ll step outside for some air,” Adam said loudly. “Maybe someone can let Deirdre know when she gets back.” Spinning on his heels, he stalked off in the direction of the side doors.
“Whoa,” Derek said. “That dude’s really tense.” He glanced around, and his gaze fixed on Bess. “Hey, beautiful,” he said. “Looks like you need someone to dance with.”
“Actually, I’m fine by myself,” Bess said coolly.
“Trust me, sweetheart,” Derek said. “You want to dance with me.” He took her hand.
Bess yanked it back. “No, thank you,” she said, her voice practically dripping ice water. “I’d rather not.”
“Let’s go get some more drinks,” I suggested, taking Ned’s hand.
“You go ahead,” Bess waved. “I can handle this.” She nodded her head toward Derek.
As entertaining as it would have been to watch Bess cut Derek down to size, all that dancing and drama had made me thirsty. Besides, Bess had always known how to handle obnoxious guys.
Soon Ned and I were making our way through the crowded main room. Right by the French doors that lead to the side porch, a table of New Orleans-style delicacies and cups filled with punch had been set up.
“Quite a spread, isn’t it?”
I glanced up to see Evaline Waters smiling at me. “Oh, hello, Ms. Waters,” I said with a smile. Evaline Waters is one of my favorite people in River Heights. She’s a retired librarian with a quick smile and an infectious zest for life. “This is a great party, isn’t it?”
“Wonderful,” Ms. Waters agreed. Her salt-and-pepper hair was tucked up under a fancy hat that matched her dress. “And your outfit is spectacular, Nancy.” She sighed happily. “I’m so glad dear Jackson agreed to this fund-raiser. This really is an incredible old house. Have you had a chance to look around? You shouldn’t miss the gorgeous stained glass window in the back hall off the kitchen.”
Ned handed me a cup off the table and took one for himself. “We’ll be sure to take a look at that, Ms. Waters,” he said. “Thanks for the tip.”
We chatted with her for another moment or two before we excused ourselves.
“How about it?” I asked Ned. “Should we go check out that window?”
“Sure. She said it’s right next to the entrance to the solarium, right?” Ned chuckled. “We should probably take a peek in there, too. I haven’t seen George in quite a while. Knowing her, she probably sneaked in and got conked on the head by a falling pane of glass.”
“Don’t even say that,” I groaned, only half kidding. “Come on, let’s go.”
We strolled off toward the back of the house and soon found the stained glass window, which really was impressive. Unlike the solarium, the window looked like it was still in pretty good condition. I glanced in through the rickety French doors at the back of the house. The solarium was an immense space lit only by the reflected light of the house and the dim shine of the moon and stars. A couple of large, drooping palms and a handful of smaller plants were all that remained of the lush Southern garden that George had described earlier.
As I squinted through the cloudy glass, trying to imagine what the solarium had looked like in its glory days, my eyes widened in surprise. A ghostly figure had just swept down the pathway!
In the Dark
I grabbed Ned’s arm. “Look!” I hissed. “Someone’s in there!”
My first glimpse of the figure through the wavy old glass had made it look ethereal and insubstantial. But as it moved closer, I saw that it was merely human after all. It was a woman in a white dress.
Ned stepped over to look. “And it’s not George,” he said.
“She’s coming this way.” Something made me whisper and pull Ned around the corner out of sight. Then I peered back out. I guess maybe I didn’t want the woman — whoever it was — to think we’d been spying on her. When she emerged from the solarium, she didn’t even glance in our direction. She was staring down the hall the opposite way.
“What were you doing in there, Patricia?” a new voice asked from that end of the hall.
“Was that Jackson’s voice?” Ned breathed into my ear.
I nodded. Our host had just stepped into view, a slight frown on his face. And now I realized who the woman in white was — Patricia Ayers Ardmore, Jackson’s niece and closest living relative. Patricia was about forty-five years old and married to hyper-successful real estate developer Bryan Ardmore. They lived in a fancy new house that Bryan had built for them after he’d turned an old dairy farm into a million-dollar subdivision called Ardmore Acres. I knew Patricia because her daughter, Maureen, had been a few years ahead of me in school.
“I was just taking a look around,” Patricia told her uncle.
“You’re not supposed to be in the solarium. It’s not safe.” Jackson shook his head. “The contractor said those panes could go at any moment.”
“Right. Just like the wiring could go at any moment, and the roof could go at any moment.” Patricia crossed her arms over her chest. “Why won’t you face facts, Uncle Jackson? This place is a money pit. Always has been. It’s foolish to keep clinging to it. Applying to get it on the Antique Homes Registry is just foolish — once it’s on there, you’ll never be able to sell it with all their restrictions!”
“I don’t want to have this conversation again, Patricia.” Jackson sounded stern. “This house is my home. I don’t care how many condos that husband of yours thinks he can pack into it or how many of his modern monstrosities he could build on the extra land. I’m not selling.”
Patricia sighed loudly and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Why do I even try to talk sense into you?” she exclaimed. “It’s only because I care about you! This is supposed to be the family home, right? So why can’t you let the rest of the family in on this decision? We worry about you living here all alone, Uncle Jackson, always worrying about making ends meet. It keeps me up at night sometimes!”
Jackson’s expression had softened and he was patting Patricia on the arm. “Don’t worry so much about the money, Patricia. I’m taking care of things,” he told her reassuringly. “After tonight, we won’t have to worry about money for quite a while.”
I glanced up at Ned and motioned down the hall. We tiptoed away, the sounds of Jackson and Patricia’s voices fading rapidly.
“Whew!” Ned said once we were safely back in the main room. “That was kind of awkward.”
I nodded, twirling my mask. “Sounds like an argument they’ve had more than once,” I said.
“There you guys are.” Bess hurried toward us, holding up her long skirt with both hands. “I only managed to ditch Derek about two minutes ago. He just doesn’t take ‘get lost, jerk’ for an answer!”
I grinned. “Sorry about that. But I knew you could handle him.”
“Barely.” Bess rolled her eyes. “So where’s George?”
“We haven’t seen her in a while,” Ned said. “She’s probably still looking for ghosts.”
I’d just noticed Deirdre and Adam standing together a few yards away talking to some other guests. “Looks like those two made up again,” I commented.
“Yeah, they both turned up a few minutes ago and started acting like nothing ever happened.” Bess glanced over at the pair, then back at me. “Did you notice anything different about Deirdre?”
“What?” I joked. “You mean the way she looks even snootier than ever now that she has two guys fighting over her?”
“Some detective you are, Nancy.” Bess laughed. “Didn’t you see she’s been de-crowned?”
I blinked, realizing Bess was right. The glittery tiara was missing from Deirdre’s dark hair.
“So what happened to the fancy tiara?” Ned asked. “She seemed so proud of that thing.”
“I don’t know,” Bess said. “Let’s go find out.”
We took a few steps closer. Soon we could hear Deirdre’s voice, which as usual was louder than it really needed to be.
“…and so I rushed to the ladies’ room and took it off,” she was exclaiming dramatically to a pair of older women in beaded gowns. “I just hope I got it off in time — my scalp is still tingling from where it was pinching me. I have very sensitive skin, you know.”
The older women cooed and clucked sympathetically. Beside her, Adam smiled vaguely, his gaze wandering around the room. Knowing Deirdre, she’d probably spent a good amount of time blabbing to anyone who would listen about her reasons for removing the tiara. Even listening to George expound on the latest computer software upgrade was more interesting than that!
Deirdre reached up and patted her hair. “It was yanking at my hair, too,” she told the women. “I just was not going to put up with that all evening, you know? The tiara may be special and all that, but this is my skin and hair we’re talking about.” She waved one hand airily. “So I just took the thing off and stuck it in my purse. I decided it didn’t even look that good anyway. It was actually sort of distracting, really.”
Bess and I shared a look of amusement. Leave it to Deirdre — even a valuable antique tiara wasn’t good enough for her!
“Mystery solved,” I joked to Bess and Ned. “Should we —”
Before I could finish, the lights flickered out and the music cut off.
It was nearly pitch black in the room. Several people screamed, and a low hubbub of confused voices filled the silence.
“What’s going on?” someone shouted.
“Is it the ghost?” another voice shrieked giddily. Laughter bubbled up from various directions. I glanced over at Ned, who was little more than a shadowy blob. It was surprising just how dark it was with the power off — only a handful of flickering candles on the fireplace mantle and the large rectangles of the windows offered any light.
“All right, everyone!” I recognized Chief McGinnis’s voice rising over the rest. “Let’s just stay calm. I’m sure we’ll get this sorted out in a moment.”
“That’s right.” Jackson’s quavery voice spoke up next. “I’m very sorry about this, friends. It seems the old wiring isn’t what it used to be.”
Beside me, I heard Bess clear her throat. “If someone has a flashlight, I’d be happy to take a look at the circuit box.”
“There’s a flashlight in the kitchen,” Jackson said. “Perhaps if someone near the hall could —”
He was interrupted by a burst of static. The lights flickered briefly, and a few bars of tinny music drifted through the room, fading in and out. I recognized the tune — it was “When the Saints Go Marching In.”
“Weird,” Ned muttered.
Before I could respond, the lights flickered again, then came back on for good. Cheers rose from the crowd.
Glancing around, I saw that most people were smiling or laughing. “Good one, Jackson!” a man called out, raising his glass. “Very convincing.”
“Yeah,” someone else cried. “I could have sworn I saw the ghost of Lisette coming to get me!”
“They think he did it on purpose,” I pointed out. “Taking advantage of all those old ghost stories to add spice to the party.”
“Maybe they’re right,” Bess said, though she sounded doubtful.
Ned shook his head. “If so, it was a pretty careless stunt,” he said disapprovingly. “Someone could’ve been hurt.”
I had to agree. “If Jackson did do it on purpose, he’d better not admit that to Chief McGinnis,” I said. “He doesn’t have much of a sense of humor about stuff like that.”
“Hey! What was that all about?” George had just appeared in the doorway behind us. “Who turned out the lights just now?”
“Where have you been?” Bess asked her. “I was starting to think the ghost got you.”
“I was upstairs looking arou —”
“Nancy! There you are.” Deirdre’s loud voice cut off George’s words. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”
She grabbed my arm and yanked at it so hard she almost made me drop my mask.
“What is it, Deirdre?” I asked. “I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.”
“Trust me, this can’t wait.” She glared at me, as if daring me to contradict her.
I sighed. When Deirdre gets like that, it’s usually more trouble than it’s worth to argue with her.
“Be right back, guys,” I told my friends.
Deirdre took me out on the side porch. It was dark and chilly, so we had the place to ourselves. With the doors shut, the music from inside was muffled enough for me to hear the peaceful sounds of frogs and insects chirping. I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth as Deirdre turned to face me.
“What’s this all about?” I asked. “If you’re looking for a little girl talk about which of your two guys is hunkier, I’m really not —”
“Don’t be stupid,” Deirdre snapped. “Why would I talk to someone like you about something like that?”
“What, then?” I was rapidly losing patience with her.
She took a deep breath. “It’s about that tiara,” she blurted out. “It’s not really in my purse like I’ve been telling everybody. It’s been stolen!”
Whodunit
My eyes widened. “Stolen?” I repeated. “Did they try to take the whole purse, or just the tiara?”
“No, no!” Deirdre waved her arms around in annoyance. “Keep up, will you? I never had it in my purse at all.”
I blinked, confused. “Wait,” I said. “Start again, okay? What happened to the tiara?”
Deirdre started wringing her hands and pacing around the creaky old porch. “It happened when I went to the restroom earlier,” she said. “After Adam and that other guy were fighting over dancing with me, remember?” A brief expression of self-satisfaction crossed her face before the worried crease in her forehead returned. “Anyway, I was in there touching up my lipstick when the lights went out.”
“Wait,” I said, more confused than ever. “You mean you were still in the bathroom when the lights cut off just now?”
“No, no!” Deirdre threw her hands in the hair. “I thought you were supposed to be, like, smart? Maybe Adam was right — I shouldn’t have told you anything about it.”
I mustered every last ounce of my patience. Whatever she was trying to tell me, it definitely sounded like something I needed to know. “I’m sorry,” I said soothingly. “Go on — please. So you’re saying the lights went out earlier, too?”
Deirdre nodded. “At least the lights in the bathroom did. I could see a little bit of light coming in under the door. Anyway, before I could scream, someone grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth.”
I gasped, startled in spite of myself. “Really?” I said. “What happened after they grabbed you?”
“They yanked the tiara right off my head.” Deirdre touched her hair gently as she spoke. “Practically tore out half my hair by the roots, too. It was horrible.”
“Did the thief say anything?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not a word. But he shoved a piece of paper in my hand. Then he let go of me and ran out of the room. The lights came back on a second later.”
“What was on the paper?”
“Here. See for yourself.” She reached into the hem of her glove, pulled out a folded scrap of paper, and handed it over.
I squinted to read it in the dim light. The paper was small, about the size of a dollar bill. There were a bunch of tiny words printed on it, but it was too dark to make them out.
“It says I have to come up with the full value of the tiara in cash by the end of the party tonight,” Deirdre said. “If I don’t — or if I so much as breathe a word about this to the police — I’ll never see it again!” She bit her lip and started pacing again. “And if that happens, I’m going to have to come up with something to tell Mr. Fielding. I definitely do not want to deal with that!”
I was still peering at the note. “What are you supposed to do with the money if you get it?”
“I don’t know.” She waved one hand. “It says something about being contacted when the time is right. But that’s not the point! There’s no way I can get that much cash in the next few hours — not without telling anyone what’s going on, anyway.” She stopped short and glared at me. “So you’ve got to help me figure out who did this! And you’d better do it fast!”
Although I wasn’t crazy about the way Deirdre was bossing me around, I hated the thought that such a historically valuable tiara had fallen into criminal hands. Besides, I can’t resist a good mystery. Of course I was going to do my best to help Deirdre get the tiara back.
I folded the note carefully and stuck it in my purse. “Okay,” I said. “Who else knows about this?”
“Nobody,” Deirdre said. “Well, except Adam, I mean.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not about to go blabbing it around, if that’s what you’re driving at.” She grabbed my arm. “And you can’t either! You won’t tell Chief McGinnis, will you? Swear it!”
“Relax,” I assured her. “I won’t tell him.” I felt a twinge of guilt at the thought that I was about to start investigating this crime right under the police chief’s nose, but I pushed it aside. If the police found out about this, the thief was likely to disappear with the tiara as threatened, and that would be that.
“Good.” Deirdre looked mollified. “Okay, then it’s our secret, right?”
“Sure,” I said. “I might need to bring my friends in on it too, though. We don’t have much time, and I may need their help.”
“Your friends?” Deirdre sounded dubious.
I decided not to give her a chance to start complaining about that. “So you didn’t see who grabbed you at all? Not even in the mirror as he was leaving?”
“Not really. It was dark, remember?” She shivered slightly. “It looked like a guy in a black mask. That’s all I could tell. And I’m not even totally sure about that.”
“Okay.” Her mention of the black mask made me think immediately of Derek. He certainly wasn’t the only one at the party wearing a plain black mask with his costume. But he was the only one who didn’t seem to know anyone at the party. Why had he come, anyway?
“What?” Deirdre demanded, watching me carefully. “What are you thinking about?”
“We’d better get back inside. If the thief sees us together out here, he might figure out what’s up — especially if he knows about my reputation for solving mysteries.”
“Oh, please.” Deirdre rolled her eyes. “It’s not like you’re some kind of celebrity, Nancy. I bet half the people at the country club don’t even know who you are.”
But she didn’t protest as I led the way back inside. It felt warm and almost stuffy in there after being outside.
“Be sure to let me know what you find out!” Deirdre hissed. Then she hurried off toward Adam, who was standing near the catering table fiddling with the edge of his cape.
I spotted Bess and Ned chatting nearby. “So what was the big emergency?” Ned asked when I joined them. “Did Deirdre break a nail or something?”
Bess laughed.
I smiled distractedly. “Listen, Bess,” I said. “That guy Derek — did you say he was with you the whole time Ned and I were gone?”
“Stuck to me like glue. After a while I started calling him Velcro Boy, and he still didn’t take the hint! I wasn’t able to shake him until right before I saw you — and then it was only because Maureen Ardmore and some friend of hers came up and started flirting with him.”
“Hmm.” I bit my lip. According to Deirdre’s story, the theft must have happened within ten minutes of when I’d left Bess with Derek on the dance floor — right after Deirdre left to go powder her nose. Ned and I had returned just before the house- wide blackout, and at that point Bess had only ditched Derek a few minutes earlier. That meant there was no way he could have been the dark figure in the bathroom — he was with Bess the whole time.
“What’s up, Nancy?” Ned raised an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had that look in your eye.”
Bess gasped. “Oh my gosh, you’re right! Nancy? Did you actually manage to come up with a mystery while we weren’t looking?”
I grinned sheepishly. “Sort of,” I said. “That’s what Deirdre wanted to talk to me about.” After checking to make sure nobody else was close enough to overhear, I filled them in on the case. I also showed them the note — hiding it behind my cupped palms — and took a better look at it myself:
By the end of the party tonight, u must come up with the full value of the tiara — in cash! Do NOT tell the police — I am watching u. If u so much as breathe a word of this to the police, u can consider ur precious tiara gone forever! U will be contacted
when the time is right.
“I get it,” Bess said, squinting at the tiny letters. “So the first suspect on your list was Mr. Short, Dark, and Pushy.”
Ned nodded. “It makes sense. He’s the only guest tonight who seems to be a stranger to everybody else, and he seems pretty sketchy.”
“Only it doesn’t work,” I said, quickly outlining my thoughts about the timeline. “He couldn’t have done it. Not unless he has an accomplice, someone he’s working with who did it for him.”
Bess glanced around. “Well, we know everybody else here,” she pointed out. “I guess someone could have sneaked in just long enough to grab the tiara.”
“Seems a little far-fetched, but you never know,” I said. “Come on, let’s go take a look at the scene of the crime.”
Remembering what Deirdre had said about the bathroom being under the stairs, I headed for the central hallway. The staircase twisted around itself, and the area around it was just as poorly lit as Deirdre had described. Tucked into an alcove beneath the first twist of the stairway was a plain wooden door with a sign hanging on it. The sign read COME ON IN, and when I reached up to flip it over, the other side said OCCUPIED — PLEASE WAIT.
“Good thing that sign is there,” Bess said. “There’s no lock on the bathroom door.”
Leaning c