Diamond Deceit

by Carolyn Keene

  Bess bit her lower lip. “I guess it’s a little of both,” she admitted.

  “Did you tell your mom and dad?” George wanted to know. “What did they say?”

  “They were the ones who suggested I invite you two out here to talk about it. They’re willing to go along with whatever I decide.”

  “We’re not trying to talk you out of staying here, but whenever I think about you here and us in River Heights . . .” George didn’t finish the sentence, but her sad expression said a lot.

  “That would be the hardest part,” Bess said softly, “being separated from you two and my family.”

  She opened her mouth to say something else but was cut off as the phone rang. Nancy reached over and picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Nancy, it’s Mrs. Menendez. Someone left a package for you at the desk. Do you want to come get it, or shall I send it along?”

  “A package?” Nancy couldn’t imagine who would be sending her something there. “I’ll come get it,” she told Mrs. Menendez.

  “I need to pick up a package someone left for me at the desk,” she told Bess and George.

  “A secret admirer?” George teased. “Is there something you aren’t telling us, Nan?”

  Nancy giggled. “So far he’s been so secret that even I don’t know about him. I’ll be right back, guys.”

  She went down the hall and staircase to the inn’s reception area.

  “I came out to the desk a few minutes ago, and this package was sitting here,” Mrs. Menendez said, pointing to a cardboard box on the counter. “I guess whoever sent it wants to remain anonymous.”

  The box had Nancy’s name printed on the outside, but there was nothing to indicate from where or from whom it had come. “Thanks,” Nancy told Mrs. Menendez.

  As soon as Nancy stepped back inside her room Bess said, “Open it!”

  “Who even knows you’re staying here?” George wondered aloud.

  Nancy asked herself the same question. She quickly ripped off the tape holding the cardboard lid down and pulled the flaps open.

  “Oh, no!” Bess exclaimed, staring into the box.

  Nancy’s stomach churned as she gazed down at the smashed cuckoo clock that lay in the box. The cuckoo lay crushed outside the clock’s little door. A sheet of paper was affixed to its pointy beak. Written on the paper in block letters were the words “Time to mind your own business.”

  Chapter

  Six

  FOR A LONG MOMENT Nancy, Bess, and George stared at the smashed cuckoo clock in shocked silence.

  “I can’t believe someone is threatening you,” George finally said, her brown eyes worried.

  “I don’t like this, Nancy,” Bess added. She stepped away from the box and flopped down on George’s bed. “What if whoever sent this tries to hurt you? Maybe you should drop the case. I’m sure Marcia would understand.”

  “There’s no way I’m going to back off now,” Nancy said firmly.

  Reaching into the box, George removed the clock and tried to stick the bird back inside the door. “You guys, this looks like the clock we saw at Cy Baxter’s store!” she said excitedly. “Whoever it was must have found out who you really are and sent it to scare you off.”

  “Maybe,” Nancy said, frowning. “But why would he send me one of his own clocks? I mean, he would have to know that I would make the connection between the cuckoo clock and him—”

  Nancy broke off as someone pounded on the door. She tensed automatically. Bess and George also froze, their eyes turned to Nancy.

  “It’s probably nothing, you guys,” Nancy said as she peered through the peephole. “It’s Ted,” she announced, smiling.

  The first thing Nancy noticed when she opened the door was the scowl on Ted’s face.

  “Is Bess still here?” he asked, pushing a hand back through his straight dark hair.

  “I’m here,” Bess called, getting up from George’s bed.

  “I went to your room to talk about the desserts for the weekend,” Ted said. “When you weren’t there, I thought I’d try here. Are you going to be a lot longer?”

  His gaze fell on the broken cuckoo clock. “What happened to that?”

  Ted listened while Bess, George, and Nancy showed him the threatening note. He seemed so concerned that Nancy almost forgave him his attitude toward Bess.

  “Wow. This is turning into a pretty hairy situation,” Ted said. “I hope you can find out who’s responsible, Nancy.”

  Before Nancy could respond, Ted turned to Bess. “So, about those desserts—” he began.

  “Well, we were just talking, but if it’s really important . . .” Bess glanced at Nancy and George.

  “Go ahead, Bess,” Nancy said, trying to sound as if she didn’t mind. “We can finish talking tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, guys. What can I say? He just can’t be without me for a minute,” Bess said, giggling.

  Nancy and George said good night.

  “I’m not sure what it is about that guy I don’t like,” George said after the door had closed on Bess and Ted.

  “He sure doesn’t want Bess to spend time with us. Then again, maybe we’re just jealous because he might take Bess away from us.”

  • • •

  “Can you believe that Bess got up and left for the restaurant before seven in the morning?” George asked the following morning as she and Nancy jogged along the beach. “I’m in shock!”

  “I know what you mean. Bess isn’t exactly the early-bird type,” Nancy agreed with a laugh “If she’s willing to get up at this hour, she must really love her job!”

  Nancy and George had gotten up early to go running. When they passed by Mrs. Menendez in the lobby, Ted’s mother had told them that Bess had already gone to the cafe.

  “Well, at least Bess promised to finish early so we can get in some sightseeing this afternoon,” Nancy said, lengthening her stride to keep up with George. She tucked a flyaway strand of reddish blond hair beneath her headband and breathed in the moist, salty ocean air.

  The day was bright and clear. A brisk breeze blew in from the ocean, sending waves beating against the dark rocks that rose along the shoreline.

  “Anyway, you and I will be busy meeting Joanna Burton this morning,” George said. “I’m totally psyched!”

  Nancy grinned at her friend. “Me, too. Who wouldn’t be excited to meet a movie star?”

  The girls finished their run, then showered and dressed. Nancy wanted to look official for her meeting with the actress, so she put on a lavender suit with a wrap skirt and a top in a complementary shade.

  After breakfast Nancy and George headed out and got in their rental car. Following the directions Mrs. Menendez had given them, they headed for Seventeen-Mile Drive.

  “There’s the entrance,” George said a few minutes later.

  Up ahead Nancy saw a wooden gate house. As she pulled to a halt in front of it, a security guard stepped out and smiled.

  “Good morning, ladies,” he greeted them. “There’s a fee to enter the drive.”

  After Nancy had paid him, the guard handed Nancy a receipt and a brochure with a map showing all the sights of interest. Nancy handed the brochure to George.

  “Hmm. It says here that Joanna Burton’s house is about a mile and a half down the drive,” George said, consulting the pamphlet. “It has a black iron gate.”

  Nancy nodded. “I’m glad we got the map. Otherwise we might not have found the right house.”

  Nancy drove into a wooded area. The houses were large and built much farther apart than the ones in town. Nancy couldn’t sightsee, though, because it took all her attention to negotiate the narrow, curved road.

  “Whoa! Look at that!” George exclaimed as they emerged from the wooded area.

  Nancy slowed the car and pulled into an overlook just ahead. When she finally checked out the view, she was stunned.

  A panoramic ocean scene stretched before them. The rocky beach was far below, at the foot o
f a long, sandy hill. Beyond the sand the blue waters were dotted with sailboats and windsurfers.

  “That’s Monterey Bay,” George informed Nancy, referring to the map in her lap.

  “I feel as if we got our money’s worth just looking at the scenery,” Nancy said. “But we’d better go. It’s almost ten.”

  Putting the car in drive, Nancy pulled back on to the road. They continued to travel with the ocean to their right; sometimes they were at sea level, sometimes on a ridge high up.

  “Joanna Burton’s house can’t be much farther,” Nancy said, slowing as they approached a curve.

  She was just easing into the turn when a white pickup truck came roaring around the curve from the opposite direction. It was halfway in Nancy’s lane, heading straight at the girls’ car!

  “Nancy, look out!” George cried. Her face was white as she grabbed the dashboard.

  Nancy instinctively jerked the car to the right to avoid a collision. In that instant she got a dizzying glimpse of the rocky beach and water far below. She heard George gasp as she slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel to the left and away from the cliff’s edge.

  The wheels screeched as the car skidded out of control. Nancy felt the bump as the car jumped onto the narrow shoulder.

  They were headed toward the edge of the drop-off!

  Chapter

  Seven

  NANCY’S HEART LEAPT into her throat as she pulled the wheel left with all her strength and continued to pump the brakes. Please, please don’t go over the edge! she begged silently.

  For one awful moment the car continued to skid toward the cliff’s edge. Then the brakes finally held, and the car shuddered to a stop.

  Nancy’s legs felt like jelly as she backed onto the road and drove to the next overlook. She pulled in and parked beside an empty car. Falling forward, she rested her head against the steering wheel and took in deep breaths of air to still her pounding heart.

  “That was a close one,” George said, slowly relaxing her grip on the dashboard. After opening her purse George fumbled around in it.

  “That truck had a logo painted on the side—a pine tree, very stylized,” she said, pulling out an envelope and a pen. With a shaky hand she began to sketch a pine tree, its branches curved and capped with white, like ocean waves.

  “I couldn’t read the name, but I figure someone will know who the truck belongs to if we show them this picture,” George continued, holding the drawing out to Nancy. “It makes me really mad when people drive so recklessly. I’m turning this guy in.”

  “It was a guy?” Nancy asked. “I didn’t have time to glance at the driver. It took everything I had just to keep the car on the road.”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m really not sure,” George said. She smiled weakly. “That was pretty fancy driving, Drew.”

  Nancy shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if the car had continued its slide off the road. She took another deep breath, then checked her watch. “We’d better get going. It’s ten o’clock now.”

  Checking for traffic, Nancy pulled back onto the road. A few moments later George pointed and said, “That must be Joanna Burton’s. See those black wrought-iron gates?”

  Just up ahead Nancy saw the iron gates. She pulled up in front of them to lean out the window and press the intercom button. When there was no answer, she pressed again.

  “Maybe this thing doesn’t work,” she said.

  Getting out of the car, Nancy tested the gate. It was locked. Once more she tried the intercom. “Miss Burton? It’s Nancy Drew,” she said into the speaker, although there was no indication that she’d made a connection. After waiting a few more minutes, she tried again. No answer once more.

  Just then a small, fluffy white dog raced up to the fence, poked its nose through the iron bars, and started yapping loudly.

  “What a darling dog!” George exclaimed, getting out of the car and squatting down in front of it. The dog ceased its racket, sniffed George’s hand, and began to whine.

  “Something’s not right,” Nancy said, looking through the gate at the house. “We had an appointment with Miss Burton. And this dog almost seems scared—”

  The piercing sound of an approaching siren interrupted Nancy’s thoughts, and in the next minute a small white car with flashing lights pulled up behind their car.

  Nancy was surprised to see Morgan Fowler get out of the car. “Could I see some identification, please?” he asked.

  “Morgan, it’s Nancy Drew. We met last night, remember?” Nancy said. “Marcia Cheung introduced us. This is my friend George Fayne.”

  Recognition shone in Morgan’s aqua eyes. “Nancy. The detective?” Morgan let go with one of his smiles. Holding out his hand to George, he said, “Nice to meet you.”

  Then his expression grew serious. “One of the neighbors called in to report two loiterers at Miss Burton’s gate. Part of our service is to make sure no one bothers our clients,” Morgan said.

  “Nancy had an appointment to meet with Miss Burton, but the intercom isn’t working, and the gate’s locked,” George explained.

  “You must be pulling a double shift,” Nancy said as Morgan tried the intercom button, too. “Last night and again this morning?”

  Morgan nodded. “We rotate days, evenings, nights. I got stuck with a shift change without any time off in between,” he said.

  A third car, a sleek silver sports car, pulled up, then stopped. A tall woman with red hair done up in a smart French twist stepped out of the car. She was dressed in a navy suit and a red silk blouse. “What’s going on here?” she asked, her hazel eyes flitting from Morgan to the two girls.

  “Stephanie! What a nice surprise.” Morgan quickly held out his hand to the attractive woman.

  Stephanie ignored the outstretched hand. “Who are these people?”

  Nancy wondered the same thing about Stephanie. Who was she to be asking so many questions? And how did Morgan know her? Judging from her expensive clothes, Stephanie wasn’t household help. Perhaps she was Miss Burton’s lawyer.

  Morgan quickly introduced Nancy and George. “They had an appointment this morning with Joanna. But the intercom isn’t working, and the gate’s locked,” he explained.

  “Open it,” Stephanie told him.

  “I’m not supposed to do that,” Morgan said, hesitating.

  “Something could have happened to Joanna. Open the gate,” Stephanie insisted.

  Morgan leaned in and removed a clipboard from his car. He flipped through the papers, then went back to the gate and punched some numbers into the keypad set into it. The iron doors opened.

  Without so much as a glance at anyone else, Stephanie got into her sports car and drove through. Nancy quickly jumped into her car and followed before anyone could tell her not to. George stopped and picked up the dog, carrying it with her up to the house.

  The house was Spanish style with a red-tile roof and dark red trim, Nancy saw when she joined George at the front door. She was surprised to note that the paint on the trim was peeling.

  “What do you need to see my client about?” Stephanie asked, appearing next to Nancy and George.

  “I’m investigating a claim Miss Burton made regarding a diamond necklace,” Nancy said.

  “Are you with the insurance company?” Stephanie asked.

  Nancy didn’t want to lie, but she had no reason to tell this woman anything, either. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I caught your name,” Nancy said, dodging the question.

  “This is Stephanie Cooke, Nancy,” Morgan supplied. He had driven his car inside the gates, too. “You’ve probably heard of her. She’s Joanna’s agent—one of the best in Hollywood.”

  Stephanie gave the girls a stiff smile before ringing the front bell. When no one answered, she tried the door, but it was locked. “I drove all the way here from L.A. this morning. Joanna didn’t say a word about going out, and she usually tells me everything,” Stephanie said, obviously concerned.

&nb
sp; “I don’t have a key to the door,” Morgan said.

  Stephanie poked in her purse. “I don’t have mine with me, either.” Stephanie pressed her lips together, then turned and headed for the garage. “I think I know where she keeps an extra key hidden. Let me go in and see what’s going on.”

  “Maybe I’d better call this in to Seaside Security,” Morgan said, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

  Stephanie waved away the idea. “Let’s check it out ourselves first in case she’s just sleeping in.”

  The agent disappeared around the corner of the house, and a few minutes later the front door opened and Stephanie appeared. “There was a key in the garage,” she announced.

  “Doesn’t Miss Burton have a housekeeper or something?” Nancy asked as they stepped into the foyer. “This is an awfully large house for her to take care of by herself.”

  “A woman comes in a couple of times a week to clean,” Stephanie said. “Joanna doesn’t need full-time help.”

  The agent pointed to a set of French Doors at the opposite end of a huge sunken living room. “Why don’t you three go out on the terrace and wait?” she said in a tone that left no room for argument. “There’s a wonderful view. I’ll find Joanna and tell her you’re here.” With that, Stephanie disappeared up a set of stairs.

  As Nancy stepped down into the living room she saw that it was much less lavish than she had expected. The main feature was a stone fireplace that dominated one wall. The rest of the room was sparsely furnished in a style that Nancy remembered had been popular a number of years earlier. The furniture was in good shape but a little dated.

  Morgan remained inside while Nancy opened the French doors and stepped out onto the terrace. George followed, still holding the fluffy white dog that had run up to them at the gate. The dog jumped out of George’s arms as soon as she walked outside.

  “Check out this view!” George exclaimed softly.

  Nancy had to agree that it was spectacular. A set of steps was cut into the hillside leading down to a small crescent of beach. Beyond, the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, sparkling in the bright sunlight.