025 Rich and Dangerous

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy shook her head sadly. Just half an hour ago she’d been in a glittering café, having fun with George and Bess. If only she’d known what was happening in the Amberly suite!

  Suddenly there was a bloodcurdling scream in the outer room. “Where is she? Don’t hide her from me!”

  Alison Kale burst into the room, followed by two attendants from the hotel staff.

  “Sarah! Sarah!” she cried. “What did that monster do to you! What did he do to you?”

  “Now, now, calm down, Alison. Try to get hold of yourself,” the doctor said.

  “Miss Kale, I assure you, the doctor did everything he could,” said the hotel manager.

  “She was murdered! My sister was murdered!” Alison screamed.

  “All right! Everyone just remain calm!” Nancy looked up in time to see Joe Ritter stride into the room, his notebook in hand. “Don’t touch anything! Now, would you tell us exactly what happened, doctor? I want to make a full report.”

  “I’m afraid Mrs. Amberly took an overdose of her heart medication,” the doctor began. But he didn’t get a chance to finish, because just then Pieter van Druten appeared at the door.

  “What’s going on here?” he cried, pushing Ritter and the doctor aside. He knelt down next to the bed and pulled back the sheet that covered Sarah’s face. “Sarah! My God!” He went rigid for a moment, as if stunned, then bent forward and regarded the dead woman. “Poor darling,” he muttered, “her heart finally gave out—”

  “Hold it a minute!” Ritter barked. “Don’t touch anything! Who are you anyway?”

  “I am Pieter van Druten. I was Mrs. Amberly’s—fiancé.”

  “You’re lying!” Alison shrieked. “She never promised to marry you. Never!”

  Nancy watched Pieter van Druten stand up a little straighter. “We were to be married in six months,” he informed the brash young detective with a sad smile. Then, turning to the doctor, he murmured, “It was her heart, wasn’t it?”

  “I believe it may have been an overdose of her medication, Mr. van Druten,” the doctor explained.

  “Oh, no. That’s quite impossible. Sarah was very careful about her dosage,” said van Druten. “Very careful.”

  “Sarah! Sarah!” Nancy turned around in time to see Alison Kale rush up and grab her sister’s body, as if trying to shake it back to life. “How could you leave me alone like this!” the bereft woman shrieked.

  “She’s hysterical,” van Druten said. “Can’t you do something, doctor? She may hurt herself.”

  The doctor nodded and quietly opened his bag.

  “You promised you wouldn’t—you promised!” Alison continued to rant until the doctor’s soothing words did their work.

  “There, there, dear. You’ve had a shock, but you’ll feel better soon.” He helped her into a chair, handing her a glass of water and a pill. “This will help you rest.”

  He then began explaining to Detective Ritter what he thought must have happened. Ritter made notes in his little book, nodding the whole time, while Pieter van Druten wandered around the room, taking everything in.

  “That’s strange,” he muttered, opening the top drawer of Sarah’s carved rosewood bureau.

  “What’s strange?” sniffed Ritter.

  “Sarah’s jewelry box. It’s missing.”

  “Missing!” The young detective pounced on this new development like a hungry dog on a bone.

  “It was here just before dinner,” said van Druten, wrinkling his brow. “I saw it here myself. Those jewels are worth a fortune!”

  “I see,” said the detective, his eyes flashing. He addressed the small crowd. “All right, folks, in light of this new information, I have to reevaluate the situation. What we have here is apparently not a suicide, but murder!”

  A stunned silence filled the room. Then, Ritter spun around and faced Nancy. “I’m told you were with the deceased when she died?”

  “Yes. I was,” Nancy answered.

  “The doctor here tells me that you claimed Mrs. Amberly was fighting for her life right up to the very end, is that right? Doesn’t sound like suicide, does it?” Ritter didn’t wait for an answer. “And I see there was no forced entry—that means the crime was committed by someone who was known to the deceased.”

  Ritter focused on Alison Kale, sitting bleary-eyed in the club chair, then he looked over at Carson and Nancy.

  “Felske, take a dusting of the victim’s fingertips. See if there’s any trace of medicine on them.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “There won’t be, I predict.

  “Hmmm—first the missing ruby, now the missing jewel box. Very interesting, don’t you agree, Miss Drew? And definitely not a suicide. No, I suspect Mrs. Amberly returned to her room to find someone she knew and trusted, in here. But to Mrs. Amberly’s surprise, that someone was in the act of stealing her precious jewelry!

  “Mrs. Amberly is shocked,” Ritter continued, melodramatically acting out his version of the events as he spoke. “She feels betrayed. Quickly she moves to her bedside to phone the hotel police. But that someone is too quick for her. Before Mrs. A. can make the call, that someone spots the pills and forces them down the poor woman’s throat!

  “There isn’t much of a struggle. Poor Mrs. Amberly’s heart is broken with the shock of it all—she’s a sick woman, remember. When it’s all over, the murderer takes the jewels and runs. A nearly perfect crime, Miss Drew—nearly perfect.

  “You were the last person to see Mrs. Amberly alive tonight. Yesterday you were here when the ruby ring was missing. Only Mrs. Amberly’s intervention saved you from arrest right then and there.” Ritter was looking at Nancy with undisguised scorn.

  Nancy didn’t answer. What was the use? Detective Ritter had already tried her in his mind and found her guilty. “I think I’d like to speak to my lawyer,” she said, looking at Carson.

  “Take it easy, you’re not under arrest—yet. However, I advise you not to leave this hotel without my permission, Miss Drew. That goes for all the Amberly party as well. Felske, when the nephew gets back, fill him in.”

  He glanced over at the vacant-eyed Alison. “Just a formality, ma’am.” Then he looked straight at Nancy. “I think we’ve already got our murderer.”

  Chapter

  Eight

  LET’S GET OUT of here!” Carson Drew strode powerfully through the door leading to the waiting area of the police station on Fifty-fourth Street and Eighth Avenue. It was two in the morning.

  A weary Nancy followed him at a slower pace. Her normally bright blue eyes were dull and red-rimmed, and her peaches-and-cream complexion was stark white.

  “I guess that questioning wasn’t so bad,” Nancy said. “The police just wanted me to tell them everything I knew. If it had been up to Ritter, they would have shone a bright light in my eyes.” She laid a hand on her father’s arm. “Thanks for being there with me, Dad.”

  “What are fathers and lawyers for?” Carson said gently. “Come on, let’s head back to the hotel and get some sleep.” He held open the door to the police station for her. “Taxi!” he yelled as they reached the curb.

  A yellow cab pulled up in seconds. Sinking into the vinyl seat, the lights of the city whizzing past, Nancy tried to smile, but it was impossible. “Oh, Dad, I feel like I’ve botched everything from the word go.”

  “Nancy! What are you talking about?”

  “It’s true. I mean, I’ve totally ruined our trip to New York. Here’s this fabulous city, just waiting to be explored, and I’ve gotten us into a big mess.”

  Carson Drew shook his head glumly. “Well, I suppose if you hadn’t gotten involved in the first place—”

  “But, Dad, I had to get involved! Somebody had to help that poor woman. I could feel that Sarah Amberly was in danger, I just knew it, but I let the whole situation slip through my fingers.”

  Carson gazed out at the passing city streets before he spoke. “Nancy,” he began gently, taking her hand, “I understand that you were concerned for Sarah. B
ut maybe you let your imagination run away with you. After all, a common thief could have stolen those jewels. . . .”

  “Oh, come on, Dad, you know better than that. A simple robbery?” Tired as she was, Nancy could feel the fire returning. “Would a robber have known about her heart medicine? No way!”

  Carson pursed his lips and nodded. Nancy had a point. “No, a robber couldn’t have known

  Of course, thought Nancy, the image of Jack Kale in her mind, there was one thief who did know. . . .

  • • •

  The next morning Nancy was up at eight. The first thing she did was make a quick phone call. Then she threw a little cold water on her face, ran a brush through her hair, applied some makeup, and dressed. By twenty past, she looked as fresh as if she’d had a full night’s sleep.

  At eight-thirty the phone in the Drew suite rang twice. “Yes?” Nancy said into the receiver.

  “Your guest is here, Miss Drew.”

  “Thank you. Please send her up.”

  Nancy was waiting by the door when the knock came. She opened it up and saw a well-dressed woman of about forty. The woman had dark hair and piercing blue eyes, set off by lapis earrings. “Sorry to call you so early, Madame Rosa, but I just had to see you,” Nancy began. “Please come in.

  “I understand completely. Certain things cannot wait.” The woman walked into the suite, and Nancy could tell that she was taking in every detail.

  “Is it a matter of love?” the woman asked, taking her gloves off and putting her jacket down on a chair.

  “No, not really. I just— Well, you see, I’ve never had my cards read, but I heard you were very good.”

  “Why, thank you. But I am merely an interpreter. It is the cards that show the way.” The woman was smiling sincerely now, and Nancy couldn’t help liking her.

  “Shall we begin, then? I suggest we start with an astrological clock. That will give you a general overview of your life. Perhaps from there we can be more specific. Would you mix the cards, please, and then lay them down in three piles? I want your energy in them, not mine.”

  Madame Rosa handed Nancy a dark blue felt box, tied with a satin ribbon. Nancy opened it and lifted out an oversize deck of tarot cards.

  “There are so many,” Nancy commented as she shuffled the cards.

  “Seventy-eight,” the woman replied. “Each an ancient symbol. Now, if you’ll hand them back to me—” Her face a study in concentration, Madame Rosa carefully laid the cards down in a circle on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

  “In this reading, each card will represent a house of the zodiac. Let’s begin here, in the fifth house, which is the house of love and romance.” Throwing a smile at Nancy, she lifted a card and turned it over.

  “Oh, dear,” she murmured. Nancy immediately recognized the card from the very first reading of Sarah’s that she had seen. The picture was of a man in a boat. He had a sad expression on his face, and he seemed to be rowing away from a distant shore. “The Six of Swords. I’m afraid your love is distant from you. I do not mean emotionally,” she said, laughing, “but distant in miles.”

  She means Ned, Nancy thought, although it could have been a lucky guess.

  “And in the sixth house—ah, the King of Cups. He is an older man, near you now—a man who means a great deal to you. He believes in you very deeply, but he’s worried about you. He’s concerned for your safety—and not without cause.”

  Dad. Hadn’t he just told her the night before that he was worried about her?

  “And for your future—the World. That’s a card of great challenge. You must take care to protect yourself at all times. The World is a dangerous card, and next to the Chariot as it is, you must be very strong, very strong indeed—oh, dear!”

  When she lifted the next card, Madame Rosa’s eyes narrowed. Turning to Nancy, she asked gently, “Have you had a disturbing experience lately? The Nine of Swords in your twelfth house would indicate that you have. See how she covers her eyes to shut out a nightmare?”

  Wincing, Nancy recalled the feel of Sarah’s limp body in her arms. “The devil, the fool, and death.” What had Sarah meant?

  “I was friendly with Mrs. Amberly,” Nancy began softly. “You know, last night—”

  “Yes, I know. Her sister called me. I must say, though, I was saddened but not surprised. Once again the cards foresaw it all.”

  “How? What was that last reading all about?” Nancy was at the heart of her pursuit with the tarot reader. She narrowed her wide blue eyes and waited for Madame Rosa’s response.

  “I remember her last reading very vividly. The Tower, the card of sudden violence, and the Ten of Swords, two difficult cards, and in combination—well, they are a dreadful combination. And above them the Three of Swords—betrayal by a loved one.”

  “When I saw her last night, she said something about a devil and a fool—and death . . .”

  “That’s strange—those particular cards weren’t in her last reading.”

  “You mean, they’re all tarot cards?” A funny feeling made its way up Nancy’s spine. “What do they mean?”

  “Ominous cards, my dear. The Devil is the card of the lie, the putting of sensual pleasure above moral wholeness. The Fool is the card of misguided innocence, of instability. As for the Death card, well, it could mean drastic change, or it could mean death quite literally. Or the cards may also refer to specific people in a person’s life. In your reading, for instance, the King of Cups refers to a specific person. Any of the cardinal cards may do that.”

  Stunned, Nancy leaned back on the divan. The Devil, the Fool, and Death— Yes, it was all coming clearer now.

  • • •

  “Come in.” Alison Kale’s voice was feeble. Nancy made her way into her suite quietly. She was shocked when she saw Alison. She looked so weak, so fragile and small in the large bed.

  “I hope you’re feeling better, Miss Kale,” said Nancy. “I’m so sorry about your sister.” The early morning visit wasn’t going to be easy for Nancy. Alison Kale wasn’t going to like what she had to ask about, not one bit.

  “Miss Kale, I hope what I’m going to say won’t upset you. It’s about a piece of paper—a piece of paper I found in this suite—in fact, in this very room. The words ‘Kill, Kill, Kill’ were written on it.”

  Alison Kale flushed a deep purple, and suddenly she sat straight up in her bed. “You little snoop!”

  “You wrote those words, didn’t you, Miss Kale?” Nancy’s own heart was pounding now. “And I need to know what you meant by them.”

  “I—I wrote them because—because my doctor told me to.”

  “Your doctor?” Nancy was puzzled.

  “He suggested I could release my feelings freely on paper, if I let myself write what I wanted to. But I never hurt anyone! Never!” Now she was on her feet, going to the bedroom bureau.

  “If you don’t believe me, look at the other notes I’ve written. I keep them all right here in my dresser. They don’t mean a thing. Not a thing!”

  Alison Kale yanked open the top drawer of the antique dresser. Then she suddenly went white as a sheet and let out a piercing scream!

  There, perched on top of her lingerie, was Sarah Amberly’s jewelry box.

  Chapter

  Nine

  I HAVE NO idea how this got here!” Alison Kale was close to being hysterical now. “I swear, I didn’t take this from Sarah’s room. I would never do that. I wasn’t jealous of my sister, no matter how wealthy she was. Money means nothing to me!”

  Nancy couldn’t help but believe the woman. Still, the jewelry box was in Alison’s shaking hands. If she didn’t put it in her drawer, who did? And why?

  Nancy looked at the frightened woman and quickly sized things up. Recently, Alison had had a furious fight with Sarah, and before that, she’d written notes saying “Kill—Kill—Kill.” And now the missing jewelry box was found in her drawer. This makes her look guilty, Nancy realized.

  Alison Kale must also ha
ve been thinking the same thing, because the color drained from her face. “They’ll think I killed Sarah. Then what’ll I do? With Sarah dead, I have no one to turn to! My nephew thinks only of himself! And Pieter van Druten has always hated me. Who can I turn to now?”

  Tears of panic were welling up in Alison’s eyes, and she turned to Nancy, desperate. “You! You’ve got to help me. For Sarah’s sake—take this!”

  Alison thrust the jewelry box into Nancy’s hands and ranted on. “Take this and get rid of it! I don’t care what you do with it—just get it out of here!”

  Nancy held the box gingerly in her hands, wondering what Joe Ritter would say if he walked into the room just then. As much as Nancy pitied Sarah’s sister, there was little she could do to help her.

  Holding the box out, Nancy shook her head. “I’m sorry, Miss Kale. I really ca—”

  But she never had a chance to finish her sentence. Suddenly, at the front door, she heard a movement. Was someone eavesdropping on them?

  “I’ll be right back.” Tossing the box lightly onto the bed, Nancy fled from the room and out the front door. In the hallway a figure turned a corner. Nancy followed, but she couldn’t see who the listener had been, or whether it was a man or a woman. One thing Nancy was sure of—it wasn’t Maximilian. He was much shorter than this person.

  Then Nancy saw a door to a stairwell close, and she heard footsteps hurrying down. Quickly she slipped into the same stairway. A few stories down, she heard another door open. The eavesdropper was getting away!

  Nancy took the steps two at a time and ran out into another hallway until she saw another door slowly closing. She pulled that door open and found herself inside yet another stairway. She propelled herself down the stairs, pushing off against the banister.

  On the ground floor she opened a door and was in a banquet-hall kitchen. All around her were waiters, waitresses, busboys, and cooks. In the midst of their activity, they glanced up at Nancy with uncomprehending looks. Nancy smiled awkwardly.