Nancy Clue Mysteries 2 - The Case of the Good-for-Nothing Girlfriend
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"How could I have befriended jewel thieves and then watched while they stole Nancy's jewels in front of my very eyes?" Cherry sobbed. "You must think I'm an awfully silly goose, and Nancy must think she's got an awfully dumb bunny for a girlfriend! Some help I'll be in solving mysteries."
"You're just trusting and sweet," Velma tried to soothe her sobbing chum.
Midge came over to the bed and put an arm around Cherry. Then she did something she had never done before. Midge kissed Cherry right on the cheek!
"We all love you," Midge said, a husky tone creeping into her voice. "You're really a swell kid."
Cherry hiccuped happily. "Even though I made such a dumb mistake?"
"Why, Midge here has made many dumb mistakes," Velma volunteered. "Haven't you, Midge?" Her tone was light, but the look in her eyes was serious.
A sorrowful look shot across Midge's handsome face. "Yeah," was all she said.
* * *
CHAPTER 31
* * *
The Search for Nancy
"Now I'm not hungry," Midge said, pushing aside her plate of cold pancakes. Bess offered to whip up some fluffy scrambled eggs, but Midge shook her head. "Not for me," she said. "I couldn't possibly eat. I'm too worried about Nancy." The others agreed. They were too upset to think about food.
"I must really be worried," Bess declared as she, too, gave up on her pancakes. "Why, this has never happened to me before. There has been many an adventure when I made Nancy stop the car so I could get a snack," she admitted. "But now..." She didn't have to finish her sentence. Everyone was thinking the same thing. Now they had the joyless task of waiting.
"I will have some more coffee, though," Midge said as she got the pot and poured fresh brew all around. The others agreed that a strong cup of coffee would help them think more clearly.
"Golly, Nancy's stubborn," George grumbled as she poured cream into her cup. "She's one of my best chums, and I love her to death, but that girl can be headstrong."
Bess agreed. "She's always the first one to offer help, but the last one to accept it."
Cherry bristled under the criticism. "Nancy's not stubborn, she's just independent," she insisted, her cheeks beginning to redden.
"You said so yourself you noticed a stubborn streak in her," Midge reminded Cherry. "Remember?"
"I know," Cherry sighed. "It makes me think that Nancy doesn't really need a nurse girlfriend after all. I can't just sit here and worry," she wailed as she got up from the table. She gathered the breakfast dishes and filled the sink with hot, sudsy water. After donning a pair of thick yellow rubber gloves she found in the cabinet under the sink, she plunged into the hot water and began furiously scrubbing the breakfast dishes.
"Careful, you'll wash the pattern right off that plate," Midge joked as she grabbed a dish towel and joined Cherry.
"You know, girls everywhere are always writing to Nancy, telling her how much they admire her, trying to get to meet her. Golly, Cherry, you must feel awfully lucky to have bumped into Nancy in San Francisco the way you did," George said.
Midge was about to tease Cherry about the night she bumped into Nancy, but stopped when she saw a fat tear roll down Cherry's cheek and fall, splat, into the dish water. Why, Cherry was crying! And Midge could just bet she knew what was causing her tears. "Nancy will be okay," Midge assured Cherry, giving her a little hug.
"After all, she's famous for getting out of tight squeezes," Bess chimed in.
Cherry wiped her face on the back of her rubber glove. "I just wish I could be more help," she wailed. "Nancy wouldn't let me make her breakfast or drive her to the police station. Why, she even left the sack lunch I packed for her." Cherry pointed to a small paper bag on the counter with Nancy's name printed on it in tidy cursive writing. "I even cut off the crusts on her lettuce and tomato sandwiches," Cherry hiccuped through her tears.
Bess handed her a dish towel, which she accepted gratefully.
"What if the Chief thinks she shot her father on purpose and that's why he hasn't let Hannah go, and he's planning to arrest Nancy for murder?" Cherry cried.
"I'm worried about that, too," Midge admitted. She took one last swallow of coffee and jumped up. "I'm going to the police station."
"Me, too," the others chorused.
Cherry put down a dish and threw up her arms in alarm. "I've got to bathe and find fresh stockings and set my hair!"
"There's no time for that," Midge declared. "Everyone get dressed. We'll meet back here in five minutes."
A sheepish look came over Cherry's face. "Eek! " she cried. "Midge, Lauren, I threw all your clothes in the washer last night after you went to sleep and forgot to hang them on the line. Why, they'll be sopping wet, and you haven't anything else to wear. I was trying to be helpful," she added, looking chagrined.
"Nancy has plenty of clothes in her closet," Bess said help fully. "The hem lines will be awfully long on you, Lauren, but I can pin those up in a flash." Lauren blanched, but Bess wasn't paying any attention. She was busy examining Midge, who was a whole head taller than the rest of the them. "I believe you're about the same height as Hannah, Midge. Maybe we can find a simple shift in her closet that you could wear," Bess said hopefully.
Midge raised one eyebrow in alarm. "You want me to go out in a dress?" she cried. Except for the day Velma had been kidnapped by thugs, Cherry had never seen Midge look so upset! "I'd rather go out in my pajamas," Midge declared.
"Me, too," Lauren added in a defiant tone.
"By the way, where did you get that robe?" Bess wondered, touching Midge's plaid bathrobe.
"It is handsome," Cherry conceded, "but I hardly think now is the time to discuss Midge's wardrobe."
"I found it in the hall closet upstairs," Midge said.
"Then there must be more things here that Midge and Lauren could wear. Come to think of it, I don't think anyone's cleared out Mr. Clue's closet yet. The police were leaving that for Nancy, I believe," Bess directed.
"My mother went through his closet to find a suit for his funeral," George added. "She mentioned that he had scads of new clothes from all the best shops." She shuddered. "The only problem is, we have to go in his room to get them."
Although Midge was frankly repulsed by the idea of wearing a dead man's clothes, having to wear a dress would be much worse! "I say we go check out his closet," she said reluctantly.
George agreed to lead the expedition, while Velma, Cherry, and Bess disappeared into Nancy's room to select fresh outfits. Midge and Lauren followed George up the stairs to the room that was once the sleeping chamber of the late Carson Clue.
"The police have already searched this room for clues," George said, as she opened the heavy maple door leading to the large, dark-paneled room. "They claim they found threatening notes in here that Hannah had written to Mr. Clue," George added. The doubtful tone in her voice alerted Midge to what George thought of that.
"This is a creepy place," Midge decided as she looked at the heavy maple furniture and matching maple-paneled walls that gave the room all the charm of a cave. "It's so still and dark in here-like a tomb," Midge noted.
Lauren snapped open a shade. In the daylight, Midge could see that the walls were covered with framed documents and photographs attesting to Carson Clue's many civic deeds and social activities.
"It's still creepy in here," Midge shivered.
"Look on his bureau," George said, pointing to a large ornate silver-framed photograph of a handsome, smiling, middleaged man with jet-black hair and stern expression. "That's him," she shivered.
"Is it my imagination, or do his eyes follow us around the room?" Midge wondered.
"There's not one picture of Nancy's mother in here. Don't you think that's odd?" George commented.
"I don't know," Midge replied. "Sometimes the picture of a lost love is the hardest thing to look at."
"I guess so," George said doubtfully. "Although, I wouldn't know. After all, Bess is my one and only love."
"Really?" Midge said, fasc
inated by this information. "You mean, you've never been with any other girl?"
George shook her head. "Never, and neither has Bess," she reported. "How about you?"
Midge looked embarrassed. "Well, it's a long story, but I was in prison for five years. There wasn't much else to do, besides set hair and learn to knit," Midge blushed. "And I was never very good with my hands. Well, not for things like that. But the minute I met Velma, I was finally in love. Although, my cellmate didn't take it too well." Midge clammed up when she noticed Lauren paying close attention to their conversation.
"I wasn't listening to your stupid conversation anyway," Lauren muttered.
George remembered the urgency of their errand and changed the subject. "Let's get you some clothes," she said, opening a door to a large walk-in closet. They were amazed to see stacks and stacks of blue-striped boxes of all sizes. George peeked in a few.
"Sweaters, shirts, cardigans; all sorts of things. And from the most exclusive men's stores in town," George noticed. "It looks like he just selected a whole new fall wardrobe. Too bad he won't be here to wear it," she sneered, sounding not at all sorry.
"I wonder if Nancy will mind?" Midge thought guiltily as she stripped down to her shorts and slipped on a pair of lightweight black suit pants and a crisp summer shirt. She noticed that George had selected a nice pair of sporty worsted blue slacks and a white shirt for herself. Thin, black leather belts completed their ensembles. Midge then slipped her feet into a handsome pair of brand-new black wing tips. She was delighted to find they were a perfect fit!
Midge admired her sharp new outfit in the mirror. "Every time I try to buy men's clothes I get chased out of the store, or I have to buy them real fast before the salesman figures out they're for me, and then I get them home and they don't fit or they're not really what I wanted," she explained. "And I've never had the money for good stuff like this," she said, appreciating the way the fine fabric felt against her skin.
"Those fit you perfectly, Midge," George said, handing Lauren a pair of men's casual slacks that would surely be many sizes too big. Poor Lauren struggled to keep the pants up on her slender frame. "You sure have small hips," Midge remarked as she put a belt through the loops on Lauren's trousers, and cinched it tight. She stood back and gave Lauren a good looking over. "You do look a little like me," she admitted grudgingly. Lauren grinned happily.
"When we get back, Bess can fix those pants for you in a jiffy," George promised Lauren.
Cherry, Bess, and Velma appeared at the door, dressed in gay cotton summer dresses. Cherry had tightly bound Bess's sprained ankle, and Bess had managed to slip her swollen foot into a comfy pair of summer moccasins. "Didn't you guys hear us?" Bess giggled. "Look, they're up here practically shopping!" she teased.
Velma let loose a loud wolf whistle when she got a good look at Midge in her handsome new outfit.
Cherry was pensive as the girls crossed the driveway and piled into George's jalopy.
"I'm going to assist Nancy whether she wants me to or not," Cherry decided as she took her place in the back seat. She was frankly anxious to get downtown and find her girlfriend. She was terribly worried about the state of her chum's mental health.
"And she didn't even have a chance to have her breakfast!" Cherry fretted as they sped downtown.
* * *
CHAPTER 32
* * *
Conflicting Reports
But Nancy was having her breakfast.
Although Cherry wouldn't have agreed that a martini with three olives was a very nutritious way to begin the day, it suited Nancy just fine.
"Hit me again," Nancy said to the attractive, dark-haired, older woman behind the bar.
Nancy took her drink to the far end of the bar so she could be alone. She had to get her wits about her and figure out what to do next. Earlier that morning she had been so full of hope, and now those hopes had been cruelly dashed, for when she had arrived at Chief Chumley's office, his deputy had informed her that the Chief was gone on a week-long fishing trip!
"I've got to think, only everything's such a muddle right now!" For the first time in her life, she was mystified as to what to do next.
"Another drink," she called out. She turned up her nose at the bowl of pickled eggs the bartender slid in front of her instead.
"You're going to need something to soak up those martinis," the woman pointed out, using the low, soothing tone she kept for the very young or very drunk. "This girl is a bit of both," she decided. "But she's not a regular. Not in this bar, at any rate. She does look awfully familiar, though," the bartender thought, puzzling over the identity of the girl in the chiffon scarf and dark glasses. But she couldn't place her.
"And I would have remembered her," she concluded, trying not to stare at the attractive girl perched precariously on the edge of her bar stool.
When Nancy got up to leave she was surprised to find her legs were all wobbly and were threatening to give way. "Why, I've had this much to drink many times and not had any trouble," she thought as she plopped into a chair to catch her breath. The bartender brought her a cup of coffee, which Nancy accepted gratefully. She sipped it slowly, and soon her cheeks were rosy again and her head had stopped spinning.
The bar began filling up with the noon crowd, buzzing excitedly about that morning's courtroom proceedings.
"Golly, this trial's going to be the most exciting thing to happen all summer!" a girl cried. "Weren't we lucky to get seats for the jury selection?"
"Why, I've never seen the courtroom so packed. There were reporters from all over. What a sight," her chum remarked.
Tears stung Nancy's eyes. "I must get to Hannah and let her know that I'm going to get her out of jail," Nancy thought urgently. But how?
She pulled her chiffon scarf close to her face and prepared to make her escape. But on the way out the door, she overheard something that made her gasp.
"It's too bad Miss Gruel's been assigned Gerald Gloon to defend her. Why, everyone knows he's just about the worst lawyer this side of the Mississippi," Nancy heard a woman exclaim.
Her companion nodded. "I overheard Chief Chumley telling Bailiff Brown that the housekeeper's goose is cooked for sure!"
"But the Chief couldn't have been in the courtroom," Nancy wanted to cry. "He's gone fishing." She realized someone was trying to keep her from talking to the Chief. But who? She raced out of the bar, jumped in her car, and headed once again for the police station. Her ears were buzzing with the dreadful things she had heard. Would she be able to save Hannah after all?
She would find a way to get to the Chief. She just had to!
* * *
CHAPTER 33
* * *
A Frightful Encounter
"Well, if it isn't my dear Miss Clue," Chief Chumley exclaimed as he hastily shut and locked the middle drawer of his desk upon spying Nancy-a rather disheveled Nancy, for she had had to climb in the back window of the washroom and then pick the lock on the Chief's door in order to gain access to his inner sanctum. The deputy had sworn the Chief was miles away by now, but Nancy had seen his car parked behind the station, between a dusty brown Impala and an old elm tree, and decided to take matters into her own hands.
Luckily, the girl sleuth had never met a lock that was a match for a good, strong bobby pin!
For a moment, the Chief looked surprised to see Nancy, but he quickly regained his composure. "Nancy, how are you?" the Chief cried warmly as he quickly closed the dusty old leather-bound tome in front of him, jumped up, and gave his favorite young sleuth a hearty handshake.
"It's so good to see you!" Nancy cried in relief as she sank into an overstuffed leather wingback chair and wiped her brow. She had sat in this chair many a time, puzzling over particularly perplexing mysteries with the Chief. It was good to be home.
"Your deputy insisted you're away on a fishing expedition," Nancy informed him. "I had to sneak in the back way," she explained, gesturing at her smudged suit and torn stockings.
Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was going to be okay!
"Now Nancy, what's on your mind?" the Chief asked in a friendly manner as he took a seat behind his massive oak desk. Nancy thrilled to the sound of his words. That was what the Chief always said when she came to him for help or to give him a clue she had dug up.
"I've got a case to crack and I need your help, Chief," Nancy joked back. "It's the case of the mistakenly imprisoned housekeeper."
Chief Chumley smiled. "Always chasing some mystery, eh, Nancy?"
Nancy grinned. "You should know, Chief," she joshed back. "You've been my partner in crime all these years." Her voice grew grim. She leaned forward and said, "Seriously, Chief, what gives? I expected to see Hannah home by now."
The Chief looked genuinely confused.
"When I called you from Wyoming two days ago and you promised to release Hannah, I assumed you would do so immediately," Nancy continued. "Before the trial began."
Chief Chumley lit his pipe, leaned back in his chair, and stared at Nancy. "I received no telephone call from you," he said in a flat, stern tone. "Why, I haven't heard hide nor hair of you since we wrapped up the case we were working on several weeks before your poor father's death."
Nancy could scarcely believe her ears. "Oh, why did I have two drinks?" she scolded herself. "Now nothing is making any sense! I must not be saying it right," she thought.
"I did call you, Chief!" Nancy insisted. "Remember? I told you that I killed Father. You weren't at all angry with me. In fact, you agreed yourself it was the only thing I could have done, given the circumstances."
"What on earth are you talking about?" the Chief thundered, his watery blue eyes flashing with anger. He jumped up and pounded his fist on the book in front of him.