The Perfect Plot

by Carolyn Keene

  “Or tried a little blackmail,” Kitridge suggested. “That’s a dangerous game when you’re dealing with someone who’s desperate.”

  He let out a weary sigh. “Why don’t you go back to the others, Nancy? We’ve got a lot of routine stuff to wrap up here.”

  When Nancy rejoined the group in the living room, Kate was just announcing that lunch had been set up in the dining room.

  While the others went through the double doors, Nancy took George aside to fill her in on what Lieutenant Kitridge had told her.

  “So we still don’t have a clue to who could have killed Maxine,” George said as she and Nancy went into the dining room.

  Nancy shook her head, then turned her attention to the spread of salads and sandwiches on the buffet. She and George were just sitting down next to Erika, when Bill Denton came over.

  “Well, Erika,” he said loudly. “I notice you’re not wearing that flowered silk scarf of yours. What’s the matter? Did you forget to unwind it from Maxine’s neck?”

  Chapter

  Seven

  ERIKA’S FACE went completely white. Everyone at the table was silent and staring at her.

  “It’s not true,” Erika murmured, barely above a whisper. “It’s not!”

  “Why else would that slick cop show me your scarf and ask if I’d ever seen it before?” Bill continued. “Did you admit it was yours?”

  “I—” Erika swallowed, then said, “I told him it looked like one I have. But the store where I bought it sells thousands of those scarves every year. It’s a classic.”

  “A classic piece of evidence, you mean,” Bill said with a nasty grin.

  Blinking furiously, Erika pushed back her chair and ran out of the room.

  “That was a rotten thing to do, Bill,” Vanessa spoke up from the other side of the table. “I can understand why Dorothea decided to get a new agent.”

  Bill turned red. “That’s a lie! I was her agent right to the end.” He glared at Vanessa, then stalked out of the room, slamming the double doors behind him.

  “Well, well,” Professor Coining said with a chuckle. “This weekend is starting to resemble a classic mystery story in which the guests are picked off one by one. I suppose we should excuse Mr. Denton. From what I hear, he’s having financial problems.”

  Nancy glanced sharply at the professor. He had to understand that he had just given Bill a motive for stealing the figurines. Had he just done it to divert attention away from himself?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Vanessa’s standing up. “Sorry, I don’t really have any appetite,” she said, excusing herself.

  “I don’t, either,” George added. “How about you, Nan?”

  “I’m done,” Nancy said.

  As the two girls got up, Patrick announced, “We’ve put the conference on hold, of course. We hope you’ll stay on at least through tomorrow, in case we’re able to resume.”

  “Anyway, the police probably wouldn’t like it if we decided to leave,” Nancy pointed out.

  Out in the hall she turned to George and said, “Let’s see if anyone’s in the library still. We need someplace to talk.”

  The room was empty. Sunlight poured in through the french windows, illuminating the wooden bookcases.

  “Well,” George said as they sat down at the long table Lieutenant Kitridge had been using earlier. “Here we are with two crimes to solve, a theft and a murder. To think I was expecting a nice, relaxed weekend!”

  “Two crimes, yes—but how many criminals?” Nancy asked. “Two? Or one?” She pulled a pad and pen out of her purse and started to jot down her thoughts.

  George stared at her. “One? You mean Kate’s idea, that a burglar came in, stole the figurines, and then waited around to kill Maxine?”

  “Not quite like that,” Nancy said. “But what if Maxine found out who the thief was and threatened to expose him or her?”

  “Of course,” George said excitedly. “And that’s why she was killed—to silence her. Nancy! That mysterious voice we heard last night! What did it say? ‘I know what you did, and I’ll make sure you don’t get away with it.’ Wasn’t that it?”

  “Something like that,” Nancy agreed.

  “What if that was Maxine, speaking to whoever stole the gold figurines?”

  Nancy nodded slowly. “Lieutenant Kitridge and I were thinking the same thing. I just had another idea, right now.”

  George raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  “Remember last night when Maxine got into that argument with Bill? She was hinting that he’d been embezzling money from Dorothea. Bill was very upset to hear that she had a taped conversation with Dorothea. What if he went to her room last night to talk to her? She could have been telling him that she knew he’d been stealing from Dorothea.”

  George slapped her palm on the table. “Sure! So he killed her to make sure she’d never tell anyone else about it.”

  “It fits,” Nancy said. “But it’s all just supposition. What about that scarf and the footprint I found in the secret passage? What we need to do now is find out whether the heating duct in Dorothea’s study is somehow connected to the one in Maxine’s room. There should be a plan around somewhere, but it might take us months to find it. I wonder if Kate could get us one.”

  Both girls looked up as the door opened slightly. Erika peeked in, then slipped into the library and shut the door behind her.

  “Nancy, you’ve got to help me!” she said in a low, urgent voice. “The police are going to arrest me for murdering Maxine, I just know it!”

  Seeing how distraught Erika was, George said, “Please sit down—here, next to me.”

  The blond editor did and took a deep breath to try to calm herself. “I know what you all think, but it’s not true. I didn’t kill her!”

  “Then why do you think the police are going to arrest you?” Nancy asked.

  Erika glanced down at her hands. “That scarf,” she said. “Bill Denton was right—it is mine. Or at least, it’s just like mine and mine’s missing.”

  “How did it get into Maxine’s room?” George asked gently.

  “I don’t know!”

  Nancy checked out Erika’s feet. She was wearing soft black shoes. Nancy couldn’t see the soles, but she decided to take a chance.

  “There’s more to this than you’re telling us,” she told Erika. “You were in Maxine’s room this morning, weren’t you? And I know how you got in. By the secret passage.”

  Erika stared as if Nancy had just sprouted wings and a tail. “How—? You can’t know that!”

  “Yes, I can. And I imagine the police found the same clues that I noticed this morning.”

  “Fingerprints?” Erika said almost to herself. “I thought I was being so careful—”

  “So, you admit it!” George exclaimed. She edged away from the young woman.

  “I’m not a murderer!” Erika insisted. “I’m a thief. There, I said it!”

  “You stole the figurines?” George asked.

  “Figurines?” Erika repeated, puzzled. “No, no. Crooked Heart—the manuscript for Dorothea’s last book. I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about it. So early this morning I crept into Maxine’s room and lifted the manuscript from her bedside table.”

  Nancy watched the editor carefully when she asked, “Where was Maxine? Asleep?”

  Erika shook her head. “Her bed was empty. The bathroom door was closed, and I could hear the shower running. It’s not like I stuck around to chat or anything. I just grabbed the manuscript and ran back into the secret passage.”

  “What time was that?” George asked.

  Erika tugged at a lock of short, blond hair. “Eight? Just a little before I met you in the garden.”

  In her mind Nancy played back her meeting with Erika. “So that was Dorothea’s manuscript that fell out of your tote bag?” she guessed.

  “Yes. I nearly died! I was sure you’d see what it was.”

  “What about your scarf?” George a
sked, leaning forward in her chair. “Were you wearing it when you went to Maxine’s room?”

  Erika hesitated. “I—I might have been. I don’t remember. Do you think the killer found it there and used it to frame me?”

  “That’s one possibility,” Nancy replied. She didn’t bother to mention the more obvious one—that Maxine had discovered Erika in her room, and Erika, in a panic, had strangled her.

  “I didn’t kill her!” Erika repeated as if she knew what Nancy was thinking. “But I know they’re going to arrest me. Will you help? You’re the only one here I can turn to.”

  “I’ll do my best to get to the bottom of Maxine’s murder,” Nancy hedged. “If you’re innocent, the best way we can prove it is to find out who’s guilty.”

  “Oh, thank you!”

  “But,” she added, holding up her hand, “I need your full cooperation. For starters, I want that manuscript. I’ll see that Kate gets it back.”

  For half an instant Erika looked as if she might say no. Then she sighed, stood up, and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

  Erika’s room was decorated like a set from a 1920s detective movie. She walked straight across the room to a mirrored vanity table and pulled open the center drawer. She froze, staring down into it.

  “Oh, no!” she said in a horrified whisper. “It’s gone! Somebody stole it!”

  Nancy and George ran to Erika’s side. Sure enough, the drawer was empty.

  “You’re positive this is where you left it?” Nancy asked. “Could you have remembered wrong?”

  “It was in this drawer,” Erika insisted, rapping her knuckles on the vanity.

  Nancy studied Erika’s face. She was obviously distressed, but that didn’t mean she was telling the truth. Nancy was about to probe further when there was a tap on the door. Lieutenant Kitridge poked his head inside.

  “Ms. Olsen? I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to come with me. A number of questions have come up about your part in the death of Maxine Treitler.”

  Erika stared wordlessly at the police officer. Then her eyes rolled upward, and almost in slow motion, she started to slump to the floor.

  Chapter

  Eight

  AS ERIKA’S KNEES crumpled, Nancy and George reached out to stop her from falling. Lieutenant Kitridge called over his shoulder to the hallway. “Sergeant Wilensky? Give me a hand, will you?”

  Erika’s eyes fluttered open after a moment. She stared dazedly at Nancy and George, who were still holding her up. The sergeant Nancy had seen that morning came in, and the three of them helped Erika into a chair. “Put your head down in your lap,” the sergeant advised. “It helps to get the blood back to your brain.”

  After a few minutes Erika was sitting up and the color had returned to her cheeks.

  “Are you okay, Ms. Olsen?” the lieutenant asked.

  Erika nodded and got to her feet to start for the door. As she was leaving the room, she turned to Nancy with an imploring look.

  With a frown Lieutenant Kitridge asked, “Are you starting to take sides, Nancy?”

  Nancy shook her head. “I’ll tell you what I told Erika. The best way to show she’s innocent, if she is, will be to find out who’s guilty.”

  “Her scarf was the murder weapon,” Kitridge said. “The fibers we found under the victim’s fingernails match. And I’m willing to bet those shoes she’s wearing will match up with that footprint we found in the hidden passage.”

  “She admitted that she went to Maxine’s room this morning,” Nancy told him.

  The lieutenant stared at Nancy with narrowed eyes. “You’d better tell me about that,” he said.

  When she’d finished, Kitridge rubbed his chin. “So now she says the manuscript is missing from her room,” he said. “Do you buy that story?”

  “I don’t know,” Nancy said truthfully. “She certainly wanted the manuscript badly enough to steal it. Maybe she’s hidden it somewhere and intends to retrieve it later.”

  “If the evidence against her keeps piling up this way,” the lieutenant said grimly, “ ‘later’ for her is going to be a whole lot later. Figure twenty years to life.”

  With that, Lieutenant Kitridge left.

  “Oh, I left my notes down in the library,” Nancy said to George. The two girls made their way back downstairs. Nancy retrieved the notebook, then crossed over to the long windows to look outside.

  A dark-colored sedan was just pulling out of the driveway. Sergeant Wilensky was driving with Erika in the backseat beside Lieutenant Kitridge. “There they go,” Nancy said.

  George didn’t answer. When Nancy swung around George wasn’t there. At the far end of the library a narrow door set between two carved bookcases was standing partially open, though.

  Nancy started for the door, but before she reached it, the door swung wide open and George reappeared. She had a folded piece of blue paper in her hand and a grin on her face.

  “Where were you?” Nancy asked. “What’s that?”

  “I decided to check out where that door goes,” George replied. “It leads into Dorothea Burden’s study. Now look what I found in her file cabinet—a blueprint of the heating system.”

  “Great!” Nancy helped unfold the large sheet of paper, and together they studied the diagram.

  “Here’s the library,” George said, pointing. “And this must be the heating duct. It comes up directly from the main duct in the basement, right below us. And from here, it goes up to the second floor—”

  “ ‘R.M. room,’ ” Nancy read, squinting at the faint printing. “Rue Morgue—Maxine’s room!”

  George let out a low whistle. “So, our guess must be right. That mysterious voice last night was Maxine’s.”

  Nancy nodded her agreement. “Which means, if we can find out who stole the figurines, there’s a good chance we’ll have found Maxine’s murderer at the same time.”

  “Let’s think about everyone’s alibi,” George said. “What are the important times again?”

  Nancy’s brow furrowed as she thought back. “According to Kate and the professor, the figures went back into the safe at noon,” she said. “And at eight they were gone. The study was empty, and maybe locked, from noon to one-thirty. It was unlocked from one-thirty on, but Kate was in and out a lot. From about five until we got together before dinner, Maxine was in there alone.”

  “So unless the figurines were stolen by Kate or Maxine, they were probably taken between noon and one-thirty,” George said. “Do you remember where people said they were during those times?”

  “I’m not sure,” Nancy admitted. “Maybe we’d better talk to everyone again and try to pin down where they were.”

  As they came out of the library, Nancy saw Patrick at one of the doors down the hall. He had his back to her, and he seemed to be fiddling with the lock. Just as she and George drew near, he straightened up and the door swung open.

  “Hi,” Nancy called.

  Patrick stiffened, pulling the door quickly closed again. He turned and gave them a dazzling smile. “Hello,” he said, slipping a large key into his pocket. “Did you hear about Erika?” he asked.

  “We were with her when the police took her in for questioning,” George replied. Nodding toward the door, she said, “That’s the display room, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right,” Patrick said.

  “I didn’t really get a chance to inspect the displays last night,” George said. “Do you think we could take a peek?”

  “Maybe later,” he said with another big smile. “I was just locking up.”

  He shook the door handle, to make sure it was closed. Then he took the key from his pocket and turned it in the lock.

  “We’re still checking into the theft of the figures,” Nancy told him. “Can you tell us where you were yesterday, from noon on?”

  “Let me see. Julian and I got together with Kate at about twelve-fifteen to work out the details of some of the staged crimes for the week
end. We did that until about two. After that I was alone for a while. At about four Professor Coining and I had a cup of tea together, and I stayed with him until Bill and you came a little before five. From then on, I was with someone every moment until Kate and I went to get the figures from the safe.”

  Nancy said, “Thanks, Patrick.”

  As they moved away, George whispered, “He lied to us, Nancy! He wasn’t closing that room, he was opening it.”

  “I noticed,” Nancy whispered back. “I wonder why?”

  The girls peered into an empty living room before continuing on to the sun room. Professor Coining was there, stretched out on a chaise longue. An open book was resting on his stomach, his eyes closed.

  “Professor Coining,” Nancy said softly.

  He awoke with a start, and his eyes darted around the sun room. “Hmm? Yes, what is it?”

  Nancy asked her question. The professor told her that he had eaten a sandwich with Kate and Maxine from noon to twelve-thirty. He had walked Bill to his car at around one and had had tea with Patrick at four. “In other words, young lady, you could drive a truck through the holes in my alibi,” he concluded with a chuckle.

  After tracking down Julian, Kate, Bill, and Vanessa, Nancy and George went to their room to tally up all the accounts.

  “There aren’t any apparent inconsistencies,” Nancy said, rifling through her notes. “At least, nobody contradicted anybody else about the times they were together. But we’re not much further along. Everybody’s covered for some of the crucial period—from twelve to five—but nobody’s covered for all of it.”

  “Except for Bill Denton,” George said, sitting on the end of her bed. “Remember? He was on the phone in his room from noon until one, when Coining walked him to his car. Then he left for Chicago and didn’t return until about five.”

  “We don’t know he was on the phone for that hour,” Nancy said. “I remember the name of the guy he was supposedly talking to. Leo Mallet, in Chicago. Let’s see if we can track him down and check out Bill’s story.”

  There was a cordless phone on the night table between the two beds. Taking the handset to the table near the window, Nancy started calling. After a half hour’s work, she turned off the phone and set it down.