False Impressions

by Carolyn Keene

  What if Andrea Tannenbaum and “Nancy Drew” were one and same?

  Containing her growing excitement, and thanking the sergeant for his help, Nancy returned the sheet and hurried out of the police station.

  As quickly as she could, she headed for Aitkin’s house. She had more than a hunch to go on now. She actually had a solid theory, but the only way to get the proof she needed was a quick search of Aitkin’s house. There was no time to waste.

  • • •

  Nancy parked her car beside a snow-piled curb, under a streetlight. Darkness had fallen and Nancy was grateful that as soon as she left her car she heard a yell from the woodlot across the street. Ned, Bess, and George waved to her from the protection of a stand of maples.

  She cast a quick glance up the street. Maiden Court was a quiet neighborhood of old double-decker houses. Number 42 was a one-story white bungalow with green shutters and the porch light on. Two unfamiliar cars were parked in the driveway.

  “Nancy, we were worried something had happened to you,” Bess said breathlessly.

  “I was at the police station a little longer than I expected,” Nancy answered. “What’s been happening here?”

  “Not much, Nan,” George replied. “The dark-haired girl got here about a half hour ago. Then the man arrived about ten minutes later. Boy, was he in a hurry!”

  Nancy frowned, wondering if Aitkin and Tannenbaum were on their way out of town. Seeing her expression, Ned asked,. “What is it, Nancy?”

  “Aitkin and his niece are a team. I’m almost positive she’s the Nancy Drew impersonator.”

  “What!” Bess and George said together.

  Nancy explained what she had pieced together at the police station. “It’s the only solution that makes any sense. Mr. Eklund told me that the night of the dance, ‘Nancy Drew’ vanished into thin air. That’s because Andrea simply pretended to be ‘Nancy Drew’ for a few hours, then dumped her disguise and went back to being Andrea Tannenbaum.”

  George let out a long whistle. “Wow! That’s incredibly elaborate.”

  “It sure is,” Bess agreed, “but it also explains why Aitkin hooked up with Mrs. Hackney in the first place.”

  Ned scowled. “What about the Joe Crain connection? That still doesn’t fit.”

  Nancy cast an eye in the direction of 42 Maiden Court. “I think Aitkin and Andrea had something to do with it. Look, I have a feeling Aitkin is planning to split.” Nancy cast a desperate look at her boyfriend. “I have to get in there, Ned. I’ll need evidence if I’m to clear myself.”

  Ned took a step forward. “I’ll go with you.”

  Nancy shook her head. “No, I need you guys to create a diversion—anything to get the two of them out of the house and into the street. Give me twenty minutes to get into position, then make all the noise you can.”

  “Nancy, be careful!” George urged.

  Nancy strolled casually down the street. Picking her steps carefully, she made her way around the house and into the yard. A pile of weathered lumber stood beneath the house’s side windows. The house itself had a high fieldstone foundation. The windows were a good seven feet off the ground.

  She glanced ruefully at her high heels. There was no way she was going climbing in them. Kicking off the pumps, Nancy cautiously climbed the pile. The wood felt cold and wet beneath her stocking feet. Lumber creaked faintly under her weight. Step by careful step, Nancy made her way to the top.

  She stood there, fingernails clutching the nearest windowsill, swaying slightly as she caught her balance.

  Looking in the window, she saw Andrea Tannenbaum folding a blouse on the bed. Then the girl turned to an open suitcase. She took out a reddish blond wig, exposing a stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills.

  There’s my evidence, Nancy thought, leaning closer to the window. Then Barry Aitkin walked into the bedroom and flashed an indulgent smile. “Forget the clothes, princess. I’m going to buy my wife a whole new wardrobe when we get there.”

  Holding her shoulders, Aitkin drew the dark-haired girl closer and gave her a long, passionate kiss!

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  NANCY STARED IN CONFUSION. Aitkin and Andrea were married!

  At that moment the lumber pile under her feet shifted slightly. Clutching the window frame, Nancy kept her balance and looked down. A piece of wood was steadily slipping out from under the pile. Nancy swallowed hard. The rest of the pile might collapse at any moment!

  Glancing indoors again, she saw Aitkin and Andrea break off their kiss. The girl leaned over and reached for another blouse.

  “Hurry it up, Leila,” Aitkin warned. “We’d better get going.”

  Responding to her real name, the girl glanced over her shoulder. “What makes you so sure Carlton’s onto you?”

  “I’m not taking any chances. She’s got to be wondering why I didn’t go to the police after Nancy Drew conned me. The cops are going to take a long, hard look at us once Carlton talks to them.” He hooked his thumb toward the driveway. “Time to fold the show. We’re pulling out—now!”

  “It’ll be a relief going back to being plain old Leila Macklin again,” she said decisively. “Honestly, Neil, I was getting sick of hanging around this silly town watching you make eyes at Beth Hackney.”

  “Now, now, princess. Beth Hackney is worth a lot.” Neil Macklin smiled wistfully. “Too bad I won’t get my cut. Oh, well, we made a pretty good score off that Nancy Drew game.”

  “You bet! Two hundred and twenty thousand!” Leila snapped the suitcase lid shut. “Think we’ll do as well when we get to—”

  With a wave of fear, Nancy heard a loud creaking noise under her feet drowning out Leila’s reply. The pile of wood was vibrating madly. A loose beam slid out of the pile, rolling away with a clattering jolt.

  Nancy reacted instantly, leaping into space. The woodpile collapsed like a house of cards. Arms flailing to keep her balance, Nancy guided her fall away from the rolling timbers. She landed seat first in a huge, soft snowdrift.

  Scrambling upright, Nancy waded out of the deep snow. She had to get away fast—before the Macklins found her.

  She was rounding the house when Nancy heard the awful click of a gun hammer. Neil Macklin appeared on her right. His voice was soft with menace. “Don’t move, Carlton!”

  Nancy took one look at the .32 caliber pistol in his right hand, then glanced toward the street. Her stomach froze in dismay. A neighboring house blocked her view of the woodlot. Ned, Bess, and George couldn’t see her. They could have no idea what was going on!

  Macklin waved the gun. “This way!”

  Raising her hands, Nancy frowned dismally and obeyed. Macklin grabbed her shoulder, poked her with the pistol, and marched her in through the back door.

  Leila’s eyes widened as they entered the kitchen. A brutal shove sent Nancy reeling into the middle of the room. Macklin blocked the back door, keeping the pistol trained on her. “Tie her up, Leila!”

  Nodding, Leila disappeared into the bedroom. When she emerged, she was carrying a silk scarf. Pulling the fabric tight, she forced Nancy’s wrists behind her back and tied them securely.

  Macklin frowned as he noticed Nancy’s stocking feet. “Where are your shoes?”

  Nancy tried to stall him. Twenty minutes would be up soon. Her friends should be starting their diversion. She shrugged. “Somewhere in the yard.”

  “Get them,” he told Leila. “I don’t want anything linking her to this place.”

  Nancy flexed and twisted her wrists, trying to get some slack. It was no use. Leila’s knots had made the material as secure as a pair of steel handcuffs.

  Macklin’s smile was cruel. “Who have you been talking to, Carlton?”

  “Lieutenant Kowalski,” Nancy answered, making it up as she went along. “He thought it was pretty strange you didn’t report that con. My guess is he’ll be by any minute with a warrant for your arrest.”

  “He’s more than welcome to search an empty house.” Ma
cklin chuckled. “We’ll be long gone by then.”

  Nancy surreptitiously glanced at the clock. Hope began to build. If she could only stall him for five more minutes, her friends’ diversion would give her the chance she needed.

  “Wasn’t it kind of risky having Leila impersonate Nancy Drew?” she asked, her mind searching for a stalling tactic.

  “Not really,” Macklin said, keeping the gun trained on Nancy. “We’re far enough from River Heights.”

  Leila came into the kitchen. She tossed Nancy’s pumps on the floor, then turned to her husband. “What’re you going to do with her?”

  “I’m giving the matter some thought, princess.” A strange glimmer came into Macklin’s eyes.

  “Why don’t we just tie her up and leave her in the basement?” Leila suggested.

  “Princess, you have no imagination.” He motioned for Nancy to sit down. “Don’t you realize what we have here?”

  “A major problem!”

  “Wrong! A chance to double our money, Leila, my pet. Brenda’s daddy is the publisher of Today’s Times. I think he’ll be willing to cough up to get his darling girl back, don’t you?” He handed Leila the pistol. “Get her shoes on. I’ll bring the car around.”

  Under the woman’s smirking stare, Nancy put her shoes back on. Minutes later the con artists hustled Nancy out the back door. Macklin opened the rear door of his car and threw Leila’s suitcase inside. Then, gripping Nancy’s pinioned arms, he shoved her in.

  Grunting, Nancy landed facedown on the rear seat. Then she heard the car’s front doors slam.

  Rolling over, Nancy shook her unruly hair out of her face. She found herself staring at the pistol’s muzzle. Leila sat sideways in the bucket seat, taking deadly aim at Nancy.

  Arching an eyebrow, the woman grinned. “If I were you, I’d be a good girl and lie there quietly. Cooperate with us and you’ll get home all right.”

  “Providing Daddy comes up with the money,” Macklin added, switching on the ignition.

  From the back seat, Nancy listened to the soft purr of the engine, the shifting of gears, the muted crunch of snow beneath the car’s tires. Macklin pulled the car out of the driveway.

  A wave of panic swept over her. There’s no way they’re going to let me go—not when I know their real names, she thought.

  Her scheme had gone utterly wrong, and her friends had no idea of what was happening. The con artists were making their escape, and she was their helpless hostage!

  Chapter

  Seventeen

  NANCY FORCED HERSELF to remain calm. There had to be a way out! She lay on her side, her back pillowed against the back of the rear seat. Leila’s suitcase pressed against the back of her thighs.

  She felt the car make a sharp left-hand turn. They were heading for the open country, south of Mapleton.

  I’ve got to get them talking, Nancy thought. That’s the only way I can divert their attention and work on these knots.

  Rotating her wrists, Nancy grimaced. “I’m curious, Leila. What made you decide to impersonate Nancy Drew?”

  “I read about her in Heartland magazine,” Leila replied. “Every good con needs a roper—somebody to lure the marks into the game. The Drew girl’s my size. With the right color wig, I could pass for her sister.”

  “Brenda, my wife here is one of the world’s great unsung actresses,” Macklin said expansively. “With my help, Leila blossomed into a first-class operator.”

  Con games in Chicago! Ice water seemed to course through Nancy’s veins as she put together the last pieces.

  Mr. Eklund had seen Crain and Leila dancing together at the Mapleton Country Club on Saturday night. The couple had given the impression that they were old friends.

  And Neil Macklin, according to Mr. Eklund, had seemed upset at seeing Crain with his “sister.”

  Keep them talking!

  “Your ‘first-class operation’ didn’t turn out too well,” Nancy remarked.

  “Only because of you, Carlton,” Leila snapped. “The Nancy Drew identity had done its work. I was well-established in town as Andrea Tannenbaum. If you hadn’t come along, Neil could have set them all up for a second sting.”

  Nancy dug her thumbnails into the knots, trying to unravel them. The strain made her fingers ache. “Such as?”

  “I offered to go partners with the marks in hiring a private detective,” Macklin answered with a laugh. “I was going to pay another con artist to impersonate a private eye. Naturally, I would have pocketed most of the money. A little icing on the cake, so to speak.”

  Nancy’s shoulders slumped. It was no use. The silk was knotted too tightly.

  “Of course, that scheme collapsed when the cops arrested the real Nancy Drew,” Nancy replied. “I’m surprised you hung around Mapleton.”

  Leila smiled acidly. “He couldn’t bear to leave his darling Beth.”

  Clucking his tongue, Macklin replied, “That’s why you’ll never be a great con artist, princess. You always let your emotions interfere with the game. That silly woman was all set to marry me. All I had to do was talk her into moving to Palm Springs. A year or two to establish residence, and a California divorce. In case you don’t know, Ms. Carlton, in California all goods and money are split fifty-fifty. And then Leila and I would be on our way to Rio with a nice bundle of dough.”

  Macklin’s heartlessness made Nancy’s skin crawl. “What if Beth had contested the divorce?”

  A sinister chuckle passed his lips. “Accidents happen, Brenda. Why, they happen every day.”

  Leila scowled at her husband. “Always full of big ideas, aren’t you? I still say we should have left her behind. Kidnapping is a federal rap. If we get caught—”

  “But we won’t get caught, princess.” Macklin steered the car down a long country road, the headlights making a long tunnel of white in the still darkness. “Old man Carlton is going to give, us a nice farewell present. I know just how to work it, too. First, we’ll stash Brenda in a nice safe place—”

  Nancy interrupted. “Like you did with Joe Crain?”

  She felt Macklin tense. When he spoke again, his voice held a chilled, eerie note. “Tell me what you know about that, Brenda.”

  Nancy’s fingertips roamed the suitcase’s surface, seeking a sharp corner on which to tear the silk.

  “Plenty!” Nancy replied. “Crain was mad because his brothers were about to take a fall up in Chicago. He planned to work a con on the Drew family. I’m betting he learned you two were operating in the Mapleton area. He wanted your help. So he dropped in on you at the club last Saturday night, calling himself Andrew Carson.”

  Macklin said nothing.

  “Let’s see if I can guess what happened, Neil.” Nancy continued to rub the knots against the brass latch of the suitcase. “When Crain arrived at the club, he heard that Nancy Drew was there, too. He couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that, so he went over and introduced himself. What a surprise! Instead of Carson Drew’s daughter, he found his old pal from Chicago, Leila Macklin, wearing a red wig.”

  “Good guess, Brenda.” Macklin spoke through gritted teeth. “Crain recognized her instantly.” He cast a severe glance at his wife. “You should have ditched that wig right away.”

  “Stop looking at me like it’s my fault!” Leila complained. “I never expected Crain to walk in off the street that way. If you hadn’t left to take that silly twit Hackney home—”

  “Shut up!” Macklin barked, then smiled coldly at Nancy in the rearview mirror. “That creep was waiting for me when I got back to the dance. He wanted to cut himself in for a third of my action, just like that! He told me to help him get the real Nancy Drew or else he’d tip off the cops to our operation.”

  “Crain’s blackmail threatened your scheme to marry Beth Hackney,” Nancy added. “So you decided to get rid of him. What did you do, Macklin? Leave a little bait for Crain in that phony Nancy Drew note?”

  In the mirror Nancy watched Macklin’s smile widen. “You’
re a regular sleuth, Brenda. That’s exactly what I did. I knew that little punk would come snooping around Beth’s place. So Leila left that note with the maid. It told Crain that I was planning to double-cross him—take off for Acapulco with Beth.”

  That explains why Crain was in such a hurry to get to the country club, Nancy thought, then added, “That’s premeditated murder, Neil.”

  “I had nothing to do with that.” Lowering her pistol slightly, Leila glared at her husband. “When you came up behind him, I didn’t know you were going to kill him!”

  “Don’t get preachy on me now, princess.” Macklin flashed her a dark look. “You’re in it up to your neck. Who lured Joe to the country club, eh? Who wrote that note and signed it Nancy Drew?”

  Nancy’s mind worked furiously. With half the Hackney fortune at stake, Neil Macklin had had no reservations about killing Joe Crain. And unless she could get free somehow, she’d be next!

  “Pretty smart, Macklin,” she said, trying to keep him distracted. “Tearing off the top half of that note and leaving the Nancy Drew signature. It put the police onto the real Nancy, which was just what you wanted.”

  The con artist shrugged. “Joe told us about his trouble with the Drews. I knew the cops would identify him when they found his body. I figured hanging a frame on the Drew girl would keep them—and her—out of my hair.” He scowled. “Almost worked, too. I went to the club last night. Wanted to get my picture out of their files. Leila and I saw some kid hanging around the office. She lured him away. Then who should come waltzing out of the office but Nancy Drew herself!”

  “Did she get the stocking treatment, too?”

  “Almost.” The silkiness of his tone sent a shudder through Nancy. He was reliving the murder attempt. “She got away, though. That’s rare.”

  Rare? The word echoed in her ears as she frantically scraped her wrists against the latch. She had to get free. Unless she was wrong, Macklin had no intention of letting her live. He was too ruthless to risk his future like that.

  She scraped until the metal chafed her skin, but it was no use. The stubborn silk resisted her best efforts.