Nancy's Mysterious Letter

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy said first she would slip on shoes with heels to see if the length of the dress was all right. She found it was, then took off the dress. Hannah turned it inside out.

  “Good thing this rip is near a seam. It won’t hurt to make the skirt a little narrower. I’ll just put in a whole new seam.”

  “Oh, you are a darling!” Nancy said, and gave the housekeeper a kiss on the cheek.

  Then she told Mrs. Gruen about the shoe. “It dropped out of the car that we think belonged to Edgar Nixon.”

  “Hm!” the housekeeper said. “I hope that shoe gets out of here in a hurry. I’m sure it’s contaminated with bad luck.”

  “Why, Hannah, I’ve never heard you speak like that before.”

  “I can’t help it,” the housekeeper replied, starting to baste a new seam in the dress. “The man is no good, and I don’t want any of his belongings around here.”

  When she finished sewing, Hannah laid the dress down and announced that she would have to start dinner. Nancy went downstairs to help her. She set the table and prepared a salad of tomatoes and cottage cheese.

  “I won’t put the steak on until your father comes,” Mrs. Gruen remarked.

  Nancy heard a step on the back porch. “I guess you can broil the steak now,” she said, moving toward the door.

  She opened it and her father entered. He kissed her, said good evening to the housekeeper, then beckoned for Nancy to follow him.

  After he had hung up his coat and hat in the hall closet, he led the way into the living room. The two sat down.

  “You have news?” Nancy queried.

  “Yes. It’s a mystery to me. Maybe you can figure it out. I had a cable late this afternoon from Mr. Bates-Jones.”

  The lawyer hesitated and Nancy sensed that what he was about to say was not going to please her. Finally he told her.

  “You and I have been discharged,” he said.

  “Discharged from what?” Nancy asked.

  “The Nancy Smith Drew Case.”

  “You mean they’ve found her?” Nancy cried, astonished.

  Mr. Drew shook his head. “That’s the mystery. The cable said someone else was putting them in touch with Nancy Smith Drew and that you and I could give up the case.”

  Nancy was amazed. “That’s all the cable said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I think it’s pretty abrupt when you have been so nice to make overseas phone calls to him.”

  Mr. Drew smiled. “Cables cost money. Perhaps Mr. Bates-Jones will follow his message with a letter of explanation.”

  Nancy thought this over. Intuition told her that there was something quite unnatural about the whole thing.

  “What’s on your mind?” her father asked.

  “Well, I think something phony is going on.”

  “You mean the cable?” her father asked.

  “No. But I just have a strong hunch that there might be a fake Nancy Smith Drew posing as the real one.”

  The matter was discussed later with Hannah Gruen, who was inclined to agree with Nancy. “Call it woman’s intuition if you like,” she said. “If I were you, I wouldn’t let it drop here.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Mr. Drew said. “I’ll telephone to Mr. Bates-Jones in the morning and see if he will give me more details.”

  “May I be there when you make the call?” Nancy asked.

  The lawyer smiled. “I’ll make it from here before I leave for my office. I’d like you to hear what’s said.”

  Directly after breakfast the following morning Mr. Drew put in the call to London. He had to wait several minutes before being connected with the lawyer there. Mr. Drew explained that he and Nancy did not want to go against Mr. Bates-Jones’s wishes, but were calling to find out if the real Nancy Smith Drew had been located.

  “We have some good leads to her ourselves,” Nancy’s father said, “so your cable was a great surprise.”

  Nancy, who was seated near the phone, could hear the answer plainly.

  “We appreciate your great interest and all the trouble you have gone to,” Mr. Bates-Jones said, “but we have had a communication from an American detective agency that for a fee they will tell us the secret whereabouts of the heiress.”

  Mr. Drew frowned. “But how did they learn you’re looking for her?”

  “That we don’t know, but we have no reason to believe the firm is not telling the truth.”

  “Perhaps I could be of help to you,” Mr. Drew said, “by looking up this agency. It’s just possible that a thorough investigation might be to your advantage.”

  There was a long pause. “Well,” the London lawyer finally said, “I think it best not to divulge the name.”

  Nancy and her father looked at each other. This certainly was a brush-off!

  Before saying good-by, Mr. Drew added, “Frankly, Mr. Bates-Jones, my daughter and I are very suspicious about this. I advise you not to part with any money until the whole thing has been thoroughly investigated.”

  There was a loud exclamation at the other end of the wire. Finally the London attorney said, “Thank you for your advice, Mr. Drew. I will talk to my partner about the case and let you know the result.”

  When the conversation had ended, Mr. Drew said he must hurry off. After he had gone, Nancy settled down in a big chair to think. Intuition told her she must not give up the case. Yet what else could she do?

  Suddenly she remembered something and thought, “I still have another case—Edgar Nixon and the money stolen from Dad’s registered letter, I can work on that.”

  CHAPTER IX

  “He’s Not a Suspect!”

  THE ringing of the telephone brought Nancy out of her meditation. The caller was Ira Nixon. He sounded very weak.

  “Is something the matter?” Nancy asked quickly, fearful that the mail carrier had taken a turn for the worse.

  “Will you please come over right away?” the old man asked.

  Nancy promised to leave immediately. She went to the kitchen to tell Mrs. Gruen where she was going.

  “I hope he isn’t worse,” the housekeeper said. “The poor fellow’s probably starved. Nancy, I want you to take him a jar of the fresh vegetable soup I prepared for tonight’s dinner.”

  “I’ll be happy to,” Nancy said.

  Hannah ladled some of the soup into a jar. She then put it in a paper bag, but before handing the package to Nancy, she said, “And don’t forget to take that old shoe out of here.”

  Nancy laughed. “It’s going to police headquarters as fast as I can get it there. But I must go to Ira’s first.”

  Fifteen minutes later she arrived at Ira Nixon’s little white house. The front door was unlocked and she let herself in. The mail carrier, haggard and worried-looking, sat in a rocker near the fireplace. He explained that he had had a chill and one of his neighbors had come in to build a fire.

  “Everybody is so kind to me except—except my brother. He gives me orders every time he comes here.”

  Nancy sat down. “Did he come to get money from you?”

  Ira Nixon shook his head. “Not this time,” he said. “And that’s why I sent for you. Here’s what happened.

  “Edgar came here about an hour ago. As soon as he’d gone I tried to get you on the phone but it was busy. My brother was all dressed up as usual and he has a new car. It’s red.”

  Nancy made no comment about the new car, but she was thinking hard. “Yes?” she urged Mr. Nixon, who had stopped speaking. “Go on.”

  “Nancy, that boy had nothing to do with my hard luck, I’m sure of that now.” The postman continued. “He said he came here as soon as he heard about the mail robbery. He was as sympathetic as you are. Wanted me to give him some. of my inheritance to hire a private detective and clear up the whole matter.”

  “Have you received all of your inheritance?” Nancy asked.

  “Not a cent. I told him that.”

  Ira Nixon went on to say that Edgar had tried to talk him into handing ov
er any money he had on hand. “He said he would take care of all the details of hiring a detective, but some cash would help a lot.”

  Nancy had her own idea of just how much detective hiring Ira would have received for the money, but she said nothing.

  “So you see,” Ira continued, “you were all wrong about Edgar. He’s not a suspect. He knew nothing about the stolen mail. He’s too dictatorial to suit me, but I certainly can’t say he’s a thief.”

  Nancy made no comment but asked, “Did your brother happen to say where he’s staying?”

  “Oh yes. There’s no secret about that,” Mr. Nixon went on. “He’s boarding up in Ridgefield. He even gave me his address. I have it written down here. Wait a minute—

  “Here it is!” Ira took a slip of paper from the pocket of his bathrobe. “He boards with a family named Hemmer on Harrison Street.”

  Nancy got up to leave. “By the way, did your brother ever mention a girl friend?”

  “Not until today,” the old man replied. “Edgar said he’s going to marry a rich girl very soon.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Nancy wondered if it could be the English Nancy Drew. In any case, she decided to go to Ridgefield right away and see what she could find out. Before leaving, Nancy asked if Edgar Nixon were employed.

  His brother shrugged. “We never discussed his affairs. He was always well dressed and had a car, so I guess he made a good living.”

  Further suspicion ran through Nancy’s mind. It seemed most unnatural for a brother to be so uncommunicative. It was just possible that Edgar’s way of earning a living was too shady for him to reveal.

  After saying good-by to Ira Nixon, Nancy drove directly to police headquarters and asked to see Chief McGinnis. She was told to go right into his office.

  “Hello, Nancy,” he said. “You’ve been neglecting us lately.” He grinned and added, “I thought you’d have the mystery of the missing mail solved by this time.”

  “Here’s one of the clues,” said Nancy

  “Not quite yet,” Nancy replied. “But I do have some interesting clues. Here’s one of them,” she said, handing over the worn shoe to Chief McGinnis.

  Nancy went on to bring the chief up to date about all the information she had on the suspect.

  “I’m going to drive up to Ridgefield and do a little investigating,” she said. “If I turn up any valuable clues, shall I get in touch with you or the Ridgefield police?”

  “You’d better tell the chief up there.”

  Directly after lunch Nancy phoned Bess and George and asked if they could drive over to Ridgefield with her. George said at once she would not miss it for anything.

  “Is this a dangerous assignment?” Bess queried.

  Nancy laughed. “I haven’t heard yet that Edgar Nixon gets rough, but then you never can tell.”

  At once Bess knew she was being teased. “I’m not chicken. When do you want me to be ready?”

  “In half an hour. Okay?”

  “I guess I could put on some lipstick and powder and get my hair combed by that time,” Bess replied.

  Before leaving, Nancy called her father to see if any further word had come from England. She was told No.

  “I guess we’ll just have to wait for a letter,” the lawyer said.

  Nancy then told him of her proposed trip to Ridgefield and the new clues she had picked up.

  “Good for you,” her father said. “Well, I hope the next time I talk to my daughter, she’ll have lots of good news for me.”

  “I’ll try hard.”

  A few minutes later Nancy set off. She picked up George first and then went on to the Marvin home. Bess was not waiting for her in front of the house so Nancy honked the horn. Her friend did not appear.

  A look of disgust came over George’s face. “That cousin of mine never watches the clock. She’s probably writing letters and making phone calls and doing a lot of things and here we are waiting.”

  Nancy tooted again. When Bess still did not come outside, she got out of the car and went to the front door.

  At that instant Bess opened it. She apologized for being late and said she had just finished talking to Dave Evans, who had called her from Emerson.

  “I have something interesting to tell you, Nancy,” she said. “Ned tried to phone you but you’d already left the house. I’m glad Dave caught me.”

  “What is the big news?” Nancy asked, trying not to be impatient.

  Bess explained that the young woman who was coaching the Shakespearean play and was known as N. Smith Drew was indeed Nancy Smith Drew.

  “How marvelous!” Nancy exclaimed.

  “There’s more to it,” Bess went on.

  As the two girls reached Nancy’s convertible, she related the first part of the message to George. Then she added, “Nancy Smith Drew has gone to Ridgefield!”

  “Ridgefield?” Nancy cried out.

  The three girls stared at one another, the same thought Hashing through their minds. Was it merely coincidence that the actress and Edgar Nixon had gone to Ridgefield at the same time? Or had she perhaps been drawn into some kind of racket with the suspect?

  Bess exclaimed, “Wouldn’t that be awful!”

  George expressed a further thought. “Maybe Miss Drew found out he stole the letter from England and went to Ridgefield to get it.”

  Bess looked puzzled. “Are you trying to say Edgar plans to keep her from learning about the inheritance?”

  “Could be,” George answered. “I wouldn’t put anything past that man.”

  Nancy nodded. All the suspicions she had had about Edgar Nixon now came back to her.

  “Of course all this doesn’t explain the money sent to Dad which was stolen,” she said.

  “Edgar’s a slick one,” George remarked.

  Nancy was worried. “Girls, I’m afraid that he intends to marry Nancy Smith Drew, perhaps in Ridgefield, and enjoy the inheritance that is coming to her.”

  “How despicable!” Bess cried. “And Miss Drew, I’m sure, is too nice a person to be tied to a dishonest husband.”

  George grinned. “In any case, we’d better get to Ridgefield as fast as we can and stop the wedding!”

  CHAPTER X

  Search for a Bride

  “IT’s starting to snow,” Bess remarked as a few flakes hit the windshield of Nancy’s convertible.

  Before leaving home, she had put the top up because the day was cloudy and raw, with a hint of stormy weather.

  Bess went on, “Oh, I hope it won’t be bad. Nancy, does this car have snow tires?”

  Before Nancy could reply, George spoke up. “Bess, you have so little faith in people. Of course Nancy would have snow tires and good ones at that.”

  Her cousin defended herself quickly. “After working with Nancy on all the mysteries she’s asked us to help her solve, you know even the smartest people can be forgetful sometimes!”

  Nancy laughed. “You girls have driven with me in snowstorms many times. Nevertheless I promise to be careful. Oh, it’s getting to be worse fast.”

  Due to the storm, it took longer to get to Ridgefield than Nancy had hoped, but she was buoyed up by an exciting thought. Soon she would either come face to face with Edgar Nixon or find out whether or not he was married.

  When the girls arrived on the outskirts of Ridgefield, the snow was deep. Nancy asked directions to Harrison Street. She found it blocked off by a snow removal machine which had stalled.

  Nancy turned down a hill and parked near the foot of it. The three girls climbed back up, turned right on Harrison Street, and trudged along the unshoveled sidewalk.

  Finally they came to Mrs. Hemmer’s guesthouse. By this time the girls were covered with snow. Before stepping onto the porch, they brushed off what snow they could and stamped their boots.

  Nancy rang the bell. In a minute it was answered by a plain-looking woman in her sixties. She looked surprised to see the three callers.
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br />   “What can I do for you?” she asked. “You lost or just cold?”

  The girls smiled and Nancy replied, “We’re all right. We had to park on the next street so we got covered with snow walking up here. Is Mr. Edgar Nixon at home?”

  “Why—uh—no,” Mrs. Hemmer answered. “What do you want to see him about?”

  “When will he be back?” Nancy replied, deliberately evading the woman’s question. Mrs. Hemmer surveyed her callers from head to toe before saying, “You look like nice honest young ladies. The answer is that Edgar Nixon moved out this morning.”

  “Oh!” the three girls chorused.

  “Did you know ahead of time he was going?” Nancy queried.

  “No, I didn’t,” the woman said. “He never hinted at such a thing. As a matter of fact, he seemed quite happy here. But then, I suppose when you inherit money you want to move to better quarters.”

  The girls tried not to show their excitement at this statement. Nancy said nonchalantly, “So Edgar inherited some money?”

  Mrs. Hemmer became more talkative. “It’s kind of cold for me standin’ here. Won’t you come inside?”

  Nancy and her friends followed the woman. She led them to her living room, which was cheerful despite the dull day.

  “Mr. Nixon didn’t say where the money was coming from,” Mrs. Hemmer went on, “but he told me it was a big sum and now he was going to change his type of work.”

  “What sort of work did he do?” George asked.

  “That I don’t know,” the woman replied. “Mr. Nixon was kind of mysterious about his affairs, but I suspect he was in some mail-order business. He received lots of letters.”

  Nancy could see her excellent clue fast petering out. No doubt Edgar would have notified the post office already of his change of address. Finally Nancy asked the question that was uppermost in her mind.

  “Did Edgar Nixon say he was going to be married, Mrs. Hemmer?”

  “Not this morning he didn’t,” the woman said. “But he mentioned it yesterday.”

  “I suppose he was pretty excited about it,” Nancy remarked, trying hard not to show her rising excitement. “Who’s the young lady?”