The Clue in the Camera

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy opened the door, and she and George casually stepped outside, trying to talk and laugh as if they were just going out to get an ice cream from down the street. The man looked startled for a moment, then turned as if to resume his watch. But as Nancy and George set off in his direction, he seemed to change his mind and started walking rapidly down the street away from them.

  The girls exchanged glances and followed him. “Ned really wished he could have come with us,” Nancy said to George in a loud voice, hoping the man wouldn’t think they were following him. Earlier in the day, Nancy had been thinking about her boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, who was busy with exams at Emerson College and wouldn’t be free until after Nancy returned from California. “Ned would have liked Chinatown,” Nancy went on, acting as if nothing were wrong.

  But it didn’t do much good. The man looked back once or twice but kept increasing his pace until, after a block or two, he was nearly running. Nancy and George finally dropped all efforts to act like they were out for a casual stroll, and they hurried after him.

  “Maybe there’s a car waiting for him, or he’ll go into a house or an office or something,” George suggested.

  But he did none of those things. In the middle of a block that was only partially lit by the tall, old-fashioned street lamps, the man ducked down an alley. He was immediately swallowed up by the darkness of the closed-in alley. Remembering Emily’s warning, Nancy stared for a moment into the blackness, then sighed and motioned to George that they should give up.

  “We can’t keep chasing him, especially when we can’t even see him!”

  The girls walked swiftly back to Emily’s, intent on the mystery at hand. By the time they got back, they were able to put on the appearance of two friends who had just had a nice evening walk. Hannah and Emily were smiling and relaxed as well.

  The girls picked up the empty dessert dishes and coffee cups and cleared away the crumbs, laughing when Tripod scolded them and offered his chatty parrot advice. Hannah yawned, looked at her watch, and gave a start. “Good heavens, girls, do you know it’s nearly midnight?”

  “No, it’s not, Hannah.” Nancy smiled. “That’s River Heights time. It’s two hours earlier here in San Francisco. You’d better reset your watch.”

  “Well, my body is still on River Heights time,” protested George.

  “All three of you look like you need a good night’s sleep,” said Emily. She dialed a number she apparently knew well and asked for a cab to come to her address. After another moment or two of conversation, she shepherded her guests toward the door.

  They paused long enough to make plans for the next day. Emily suggested that if the weather was clear, it would be a good day for a sightseeing tour she had read about, and the others agreed. They arranged a time and a place to meet, and then Nancy, George, and Hannah called good night to Emily and walked tiredly down the steps.

  Nancy looked for the thin, wiry man as they stepped onto the porch, but he was nowhere to be seen. The street was empty and silent. Hannah yawned again and commented that she hoped the hotel bed was a good one. At that moment, a cab rounded the corner a block or two down the street and headed their way. As it pulled up in front of the house, Nancy stepped back to let Hannah and George in first. Hannah was just bending down to get into the backseat, when a woman’s scream, loud and piercing, echoed in the night.

  “That was Emily!” exclaimed Hannah.

  5

  Interrupted Goodbyes

  Without a word to the confused cab driver, Nancy rushed back to Emily’s apartment with George and Hannah right behind her. Her heart thudded in her chest as she took the stairs two at a time. She pounded on the door. “Emily!” she yelled. “Emily! Are you all right?”

  Emily opened the door. She stood before Nancy, brandishing a broom. “Yes,” she replied disgustedly. “I’m all right. But he got away.”

  “Who? Who got away?” demanded Hannah and George.

  “The man who was trying to get in through my skylight.” Emily pointed to the ceiling. The skylight above, which was large enough for a man to crawl through, was open. Nancy looked up at the moon shining through it. She asked Emily for a stepstool, then reached up and closed the skylight.

  Climbing down, she asked, “Did you see what he looked like?”

  “Like most cat burglars, I suppose,” Emily answered. She sounded annoyed. “He was dressed in black. Black pants, shirt, gloves. Black ski hat. That’s all I saw.”

  “What about his features? How old was he?” Nancy asked.

  “I couldn’t say. I really didn’t see.”

  “Emily,” Hannah said, exasperated, “I don’t like this at all.”

  “No cat burglar is going to mess with Emily Foxworth! I almost had him. I whomped him a good one on the leg. He won’t come prowling around here again!” Emily flailed at the air with her broom, demonstrating how she had attacked the intruder.

  “Well, I think it might be a good idea if we spent the night. Just to be on hand if he comes back to try again.” Nancy looked at Hannah and George, who nodded in agreement.

  “Shouldn’t we call the police?” Hannah asked.

  “Probably,” Nancy answered. “But I doubt if they’ll find him. He’s long gone by now.”

  Hannah was not convinced. “Still, an alert might save someone else in the neighborhood.”

  “I suppose you’re right, Hannah.” Emily went to the phone to report the attempted break-in. When she returned, she told the others that the police had radioed a patrol car to be on the lookout for the intruder. “I don’t like to inconvenience you,” Emily said, “but I’m glad you’re staying. Fortunately, I have plenty of beds. Nancy and George can have the couch—it pulls out. And there’s a daybed in my room. I’ll sleep on that, Hannah. You can have my bed.”

  Hannah sat down on the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s not an inconvenience, Emily. Don’t be silly. Tomorrow, we can just stop off at our hotel for a change of clothing. And I’ll take the daybed,” she said firmly.

  Nancy and George exchanged suppressed smiles.

  “All right,” Emily said. “Now, off the couch. I don’t know about you three, but I’m beat.” She pulled out the couch. “There are sheets and blankets in the linen closet—”

  “I’ll get them,” George interrupted, moving toward the closet Emily had indicated.

  “And I’ll make up the daybed,” Hannah said, following George.

  “Okay. Meanwhile, I’ll try to round up something for each of you to sleep in.”

  Nancy and George had the couch half made up when a knock sounded at the door. “We’ll get it,” Nancy called.

  With George standing beside her, Nancy fastened the chain on the door before opening it. Two uniformed police officers stood outside. She unlatched the chain and let them in.

  The officers questioned Emily and assured her that they would be patrolling the neighborhood all night long.

  “We’ll keep watch,” the female officer said. “You shouldn’t have any more trouble.”

  Not long after the officers left, Nancy and the others settled in for the night. Nancy could hear Emily and Hannah whispering faintly to each other in the other room.

  “George?” she murmured. “George?”

  George’s even breathing was the only response Nancy heard. Nancy was tired, too, but even so, she tried to piece together the day’s events: first there was the theft of the camera, then the bald man who had followed them through Chinatown, then the cars that had almost run Hannah down, the threatening phone call to Emily, the man watching the apartment, and finally the attempted break-in. Were these incidents related? Were they coincidence? Nancy wasn’t sure, but she decided to begin a further investigation. In the morning, while the others went off sightseeing, she would go in search of Peter Stine. The mystery, if it was a mystery, intrigued her. It was a long time before she slept.

  • • •

  As they walked to the hotel early the next morning, Nancy t
old Emily what she had decided to do. Emily agreed that a talk with Peter Stine might be helpful. “But perhaps I should go with you,” she added.

  “No,” Nancy said. “I want to confront him alone. You enjoy your day of sightseeing with Hannah and George. After all, you’re on vacation, too.”

  Emily laughed. “Some vacation so far. For all of us. But I can help. You’ll need transportation, and I have a friend with a very generous nature and a car. I’ll call him from your hotel.”

  • • •

  Following Emily’s directions, Nancy drove to Marin County to see the journalist who was Emily’s rival. The morning was crisp and clear. Puffy white clouds hung in the sky. Nancy hummed to herself as she drove past Fisherman’s Wharf and Ghirardelli Square. As she approached the Golden Gate Bridge, she saw the handsome Spanish-style buildings of the Presidio, the famous army base tucked against the lush green hills overlooking the bay. The Golden Gate itself was breathtaking, its huge steel girders reaching to the sky. Arriving on the other side of the bridge, Nancy took note of the rugged terrain on her left, the cliffs hugging the bay, and, farther away, the California farmland. On her right was the little city of Sausalito, famous for its colony of houseboats.

  Twenty minutes later, Nancy entered the office of the Marin County newspaper where Peter Stine worked. Long rows of desks, each equipped with a computer terminal, filled the large open room. Nancy stared at the employees. Some were rereading text and editing; others were key-boarding new material into their consoles.

  “May I help you?” The attractive receptionist smiled at Nancy.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I’m here to see Peter Stine.”

  “Right this way.” Nancy followed the woman to a private office. “Mr. Stine, a young woman is here to see you.”

  “Yes?” The man looked up from his desk. Even though he was sitting down, Nancy could tell that Peter Stine was tall and lanky. He had bushy eyebrows, thinning hair, and a fierce expression. Nancy judged him to be about fifty. He gave the impression of being annoyed by the intrusion.

  “Peter Stine? My name’s Nancy Drew.” Nancy extended her hand, but he ignored it.

  “What do you want?” he grumbled.

  Nancy decided on the direct approach. “I’m a detective, and I need to ask you a few questions. Do you know who might be responsible for a threatening phone call to Emily Foxworth?”

  Stine snorted rudely. “Emily Foxworth sticks her nose in where it doesn’t belong,” he replied. “Any threats she’s received are no doubt due.”

  Was that another threat? Nancy took an immediate dislike to the gruff reporter, although she tried not to show it.

  “If that’s all you came here for—to ask questions about Foxworth—I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” said Stine. “I have work to do.”

  “Peter? You’re wanted in Taylor’s office. Pronto.” A young reporter handed a message to Stine, smiled at Nancy, and disappeared.

  “Excuse me, miss . . . What was your name?”

  “Drew. Nancy Drew.”

  Stine pushed passed her. “I really don’t have any time right now.”

  As soon as Nancy was certain the journalist was well away from his office, she took the opportunity to peek at the paperwork on his desk. Several notes pertaining to mob activity and gang bosses in the city caught her eye. She was trying to commit the information to memory when she heard Stine returning.

  He stepped back into his office. “You still here?” He raised one bushy eyebrow.

  Nancy smiled innocently. “I dropped my purse. You know what a mess that can be. Everything scattered.”

  Stine sat back down at his desk. “You’re interrupting my work,” he said pointedly.

  Nancy felt her face flush with anger, but she tried to stay calm. “Goodbye, Mr. Stine,” she said icily, and she left the office.

  • • •

  The visit to Stine’s office had revealed nothing, except that Emily’s rival was apparently working on a story about the increase of mobster activity in San Francisco. But that had no connection to Emily. When Lieutenant Chin had mentioned the increased mob activity to Emily, she’d told him she was “off duty.” Nancy, trying to put the pieces together, felt frustrated. She just didn’t have enough information yet. And she felt angry that the reporter had been so rude. Was he hiding something? Nancy thought he was a nasty enough person to have made the phone call to Emily. And he hadn’t denied making it. But that certainly wasn’t evidence or proof. All the way back across the Golden Gate Bridge and into San Francisco, she reviewed the mysterious events of her vacation.

  After returning the borrowed car to Emily’s friend, Nancy took a cable car to Fisherman’s Wharf. As she walked the three blocks to the wharf, she glanced at her watch. She began to walk faster. She’d agreed to meet George, Hannah, and Emily at twelve-thirty, and she didn’t want to be late. Then she saw George waving to her.

  “Hurry up, Nancy!” George called. “I’m starving.”

  Nancy laughed. “You sound just like Bess,” she said, joining the others.

  They ate lunch in a restaurant that looked out over the bay.

  “I know I said I was starving, but this is the biggest crab salad I’ve ever seen!” George exclaimed. “Where am I supposed to put it all?”

  “In any space you haven’t already filled up with sourdough bread,” Nancy replied.

  “I’m going to buy a carload of the stuff and ship it home,” George announced. “Bess will kill me—but she’ll love it.”

  “Everyone loves it,” Emily said. “It’s famous. Best in the west.”

  “Wait till she tastes the chocolate,” Hannah said.

  “What chocolate?” Nancy asked.

  Hannah described their visit to Ghirardelli Square that morning. “The chocolate from there is world famous, and I bought several packages to take home to River Heights,” she said with a smile.

  “Another ride on the cable cars?” Emily suggested as they left the restaurant.

  “I’d like that,” George said. “But I wouldn’t mind walking around some more first.”

  They decided on a stroll to the far end of the wharf, where Emily could take some photos of the boats that were loading and unloading.

  Hannah was intrigued by the bay, the smell of the ocean, the street vendors hawking their wares. Emily shot one photo after another. By this time, everyone was comfortable with the familiar click of Emily’s camera.

  Nancy found herself looking at things from a new perspective—through the eyes of a photographer, grasping details even her own trained eyes might have missed. She and Emily took off ahead of George and Hannah, who walked at a more leisurely pace behind them.

  Suddenly, as Nancy and Emily were passing one of the larger boats moored at the dock, they heard George cry, “Nancy! Emily! Run!”

  Nancy looked up—just in time to see a netful of packing crates falling toward them with terrifying speed!

  6

  Break-in

  Nancy leaped aside, pulling Emily with her. They fell onto a pile of filled canvas bags just as the net and its contents smashed to the wharf. The crates landed inches from them and shattered with a sickening crash. Nancy jumped to her feet instantly and helped Emily up from the jumble of sacks.

  “It’s a good thing some ship unloaded its laundry here as a mattress for us!” Nancy commented ruefully as she and Emily rubbed bruised joints. Then they checked Emily’s camera and light meter to be sure they hadn’t been damaged in the fall.

  They turned to see George and Hannah, their faces anxious, trying to get around the wreckage, maneuvering between the netting and the broken crates.

  “George, thank you for warning us,” Emily exclaimed. “If you hadn’t, Nancy and I would have been pressed duck!” Emily’s voice was shaky, but her sense of humor was still with her.

  A sheepish-looking dockworker walked over to where Nancy and her friends were standing and studied the broken cargo. “Somebody slipped up,” he mutte
red.

  “I should say so!” Hannah retorted angrily.

  “Yeah, but it was an accident,” another dockworker said. He stood off to one side with a third man. Then the three of them moved slowly toward the mess, as if intending to clean it up—eventually.

  Nancy glanced at George and nodded in the direction of the workers. “Didn’t you say you and Hannah wanted to find out how these wharves are used, George?” she asked.

  As Nancy had hoped, George took the hint, and she and then Hannah began asking the men about the docks, the ships, and the cargo. George made sure they moved just far enough away so that Nancy and Emily could look over the wreckage.

  Emily snapped photos, clicking away at whatever Nancy indicated might be important. Nancy held up the ropes that had bound the sturdy netting together. “There’s no sign that the ropes were cut or tampered with,” she pointed out. “They’re still strong and intact.” And the netting, although tangled from the fall, was still whole. The shattered crates revealed nothing.

  Nancy glanced around the wharf, in search of clues. Then she looked upward at the cable dangling high above her head. The coupling clamp was open. The massive clamp, Nancy knew, was controlled by levers on the crane that the cable was attached to. Nancy stared at it. “Emily,” she whispered, “how can we tell if the cargo was deliberately released by the crane operator?”

  “I don’t know,” Emily replied. “Maybe the clamp just slipped.”

  Nancy was going to ask Emily to get a shot of the crane—until she noticed that the crane operator was still seated at the controls! He looked as if he hadn’t even noticed the accident, but that would have been almost impossible. Maybe, Nancy thought, he deliberately didn’t notice it. His pale face was long and hard. And his eyes were cold, and so dark they appeared black. With a shiver, Nancy realized that she wouldn’t need one of Emily’s photographs to remember that face.

  Suddenly, Nancy laughed and moved toward her friends. “Let’s leave this place and go downtown for some fun,” she suggested, hoping to convince the man who was watching them from the crane that they weren’t too concerned about the accident after all. Nancy, George, Hannah, and Emily accepted the dockworkers’ apologies and assured them that they understood that accidents happen. They walked back toward the street.