Nancy Clue Mysteries 2 - The Case of the Good-for-Nothing Girlfriend

by Mabel Maney

  "I don't even know where I'm going," Midge admitted. She lit a cigarette to steady her nerves. She took a big gulp of the cool evening air. She had to clear her head. She had to think. Where could they dump the body?

  Jackie puzzled over the same dilemma. "Maybe there's a quarry around here," she proposed. "We could bury him and hope by the time they dig him up we're long gone."

  "Or we could weigh him down and throw him in the River Depths River and pray for rain," Micky suggested.

  "We do have plenty of rocks," Midge grinned ruefully.

  "If we could only get rid of him permanently, I could have my mother-the biggest gossip in town-spread the rumor that he's run off with money from last week's bank heist," Micky suggested.

  "Her mother is Mrs. Milton Meeks, the matron who brought us that tuna salad," Cherry explained. She was awake, but her head was still in a fog. She continued to babble-a sure sign of trauma, Jackie thought. "She's head of the fundraising committee for Mr. Clue's commemorative statue," Cherry added. "They're erecting a bronze statue in his honor in the town square," she recalled. "She asked us for donations. Then she yelled at Nancy for not attending her father's funeral."

  "That's my mother, all right," Micky laughed sourly.

  "Repeat that, would you, Cherry?" Jackie asked.

  "She brought us tuna salad," Cherry replied.

  "No, I mean about the statue in the town square."

  "It's going to be made of bronze, just like the statue of Abraham Lincoln we saw in Nebraska on the way to River Depths. In the glove box you'll find a fascinating brochure telling all about it." Golly, her head felt funny.

  Midge laughed. "Let's bronze him," she joked.

  "That will never work," Micky said. "But if we wanted to cover him with quick-dry concrete and then paint him bronze, I do believe we could pass him off as a park statue," she said in all seriousness. "I know where the Clue memorial is being made," she added. "No one will be there this time of night, and I can bust any lock in town."

  "Let's!" Jackie and Midge chorused.

  "Oh, Midge," Cherry giggled. "You always think of the silliest things!" It felt good to laugh again.

  But Cherry wasn't laughing twenty minutes later when she found herself inside a sculptor's studio, watching Midge, Jackie, and Micky strip down to their undershirts and prepare the body for dipping. The trio worked quickly to position the Chief in a convincing posture before rigor mortis set in.

  "Too bad we don't have a horse to sit him on," Midge joked as they tried different poses before settling on a simple yet stately stance.

  "Who should he be?" Velma queried. She was making a plaque for the pedestal. "A general? A politician? A war hero?"

  "We've already got one of each of those in the town square," Micky mused.

  "How about a Founding Father?" Midge suggested. "Every town square's got one of those."

  "Perfect," Velma said.

  "Dedicated to the memory of fathers everywhere," Velma inscribed on the plaque.

  "Although I prefer his final expression of surprise and fear, I guess a benevolent smile will do," Midge remarked as she finished posing the body.

  "Ready to dip?" Jackie cried.

  "Ready!" her chums replied.

  "Golly," Cherry exclaimed as she watched them carefully pick up the Chief and dip him, bit by bit, into a vat of concrete; then, using a trowel, they smoothed the quick-drying mixture over his form. In minutes they had created a nifty statue, ready for painting. When they were finished coating him in bronze-colored paint, they stepped back to admire their handiwork.

  "This is just like the pair of bronzed baby shoes Mother has on her bedroom bureau, only bigger! " Cherry cried. "Mother says they make an excellent paperweight! "

  They carefully loaded the stiff figure into car, covered it with a tarp they had found in the studio, and made their way to the town square. Lucky for them, the place was deserted, and the installation went off without a hitch.

  "What's next?" Cherry yawned. It had been a pretty busy night, and she was desperate to get home and out of her fourinch heels.

  "Now we've got to find that evidence," Jackie declared. They piled into the car and headed for the police station to search the Chief's office.

  Using Velma as a diversion, the girls were able to lure the night officer away from his post long enough for Midge and Jackie to slip inside and give the place a good going-over. They came up empty-handed, except for stacks of crisp, neatlywrapped hundreddollar bills and a box of official-looking documents they had discovered in the Chief's top drawer.

  When they rejoined Velma outside, she told them, "I've learned from that helpful Deputy Drone that Hannah's jury has been selected. The trial starts tomorrow! "

  The girls, now growing ever more anxious to find the evidence, decided to pay a call to the Chief's suburban ranch house.

  "But first I need some coffee," Midge admitted. She pulled into an all-night hamburger joint, and Velma hopped out and ran inside.

  A sporty convertible pulled into the spot beside them, and a man called out, "Yoo hoo, girls!"

  "Hello there," Cherry called back.

  "Ignore him, Cherry," Midge groaned. "Great. Now some strange man's coming over here," she grumbled when she heard a car door slam. But to her great delight, it wasn't a stranger at all.

  It was Mr. Donald-attractively attired in a cream-colored silk shirt, snug white trousers, and soft kid loafers-and his little dogs, too!

  "Girls, what's wrong?" he cried. "Did something happen to Nancy?" he fretted. "Oh, dear, perhaps I did the wrong thing, teaching her to disguise herself as Hannah."

  "Nancy is in trouble, Mr. Donald," Velma admitted as she returned to the car with cups of coffee for all. She saw that Mr. Donald was genuinely concerned about their sleuthing friend and added, "But it happened long before she came to you for help."

  "We haven't time to explain now," Midge said. "We've got some evidence to track down."

  "Oh, take me with you," Mr. Donald squealed. "This town is nowhere tonight. In fact, I'm so bored, I was just going home to wash my hair."

  "Hop in!" the girls invited.

  Mr. Donald, Mitzi, Bitzi, and Fritzi squeezed into the back seat next to Jackie, Cherry, and Micky.

  "We may be heading into dangerous territory," Midge warned him as she started the engine. "Are you up to it?"

  "Drive on, mister!" Mr. Donald cried in delight. "Danger's my middle name!"

  * * *

  CHAPTER 44

  * * *

  An Exhaustive Search

  On the way to the Chief's house, Midge filled in Mr. Donald on their mission-to find the letters that belonged to Nancy, but had fallen into the Chief's hands. "The letters will clear up any mystery about Mr. Clue's death," Midge added mysteriously. "And if we find them at the Chief's house, well, it won't bode well for him, either."

  Mr. Donald seemed to accept this explanation. Then he fell into a conversation with Micky and was thrilled when he realized she was the daughter of leading socialite Mrs. Milton Meeks.

  The girls gave him a blow-by-blow account of Mrs. Meeks's visit to the Clue house.

  "It's a terrible thing when matrons go bad," Mr. Donald said sadly. Then Micky got them all laughing with a perfect imitation of her mother, complete with fluttering hands and heaving bosom, culminating in a convincing swoon. Soon Mr. Donald, who was an excellent mimic, picked up Mrs. Meeks's grating mannerisms.

  "Why, it's like watching two Mrs. Meekses," Cherry exclaimed. "Bravo!"

  But once at the Chief's house, all laughter subsided.

  "So this is where the Chief of Police lives," Mr. Donald murmured as Jackie jimmied the front-door lock of the ranch house on Lindy Lane and led the way in. "Lucky for us he's gone for the night. Let's hope he doesn't come back unexpectedly.

  "This place is a nightmare," Mr. Donald lamented as they shut the curtains and turned on a lamp. "Look at that tartan sofa with those awning-stripe drapes! Who picked those out?" he shuddere
d. "What do I tell people over and over? Never mix plaids with stripes. But do they listen to me? No. I do wish people would call a professional before taking such drastic steps as picking out their own furnishings," he added. "That's what we're here for. So things like this don't happen."

  Cherry had to agree with him. It was always better to get an expert's opinion. That's why she so often turned to Velma for advice about matters of the heart. "Why, Velma knows practically all there is to know about love," Cherry thought.

  Cherry gave a little gasp of alarm when she spied a moosehead mounted over the fireplace, its big, glittery, unblinking amber eyes staring back at her.

  "That is a perfect example of what I'm talking about," Mr. Donald groaned. "The wall above the fireplace is the focal point of the living room, but instead of a lovely oil painting or a mirror-which would open up this space-he chooses to mount the head of some poor dead animal."

  Mitzi, Bitzi, and Fritzi whimpered in alarm. Mr. Donald patted each on its little head in a reassuring manner.

  "This room could certainly use a woman's touch," Cherry murmured as she surveyed the bowling trophies and stuffed, wall-mounted fish that gave the room all the charm of a pool hall.

  "I would love to get my hands on this place," Mr. Donald agreed.

  "Was there ever a Mrs. Chief?" Cherry wondered aloud as she looked around the stale, dark room, which smelled of hair tonic and cheap cigars.

  "She died a few years ago," Micky informed her. "She was a mousy woman with a mild manner who let the old man boss her around their whole married life."

  "Here's the plan," Jackie interrupted. "We'll split up and each take a different part of the house. Now, everyone knows what we're looking for, right? Letters written to Nancy from Mr. Clue. Micky and Mr. Donald, you search down here, Cherry and I will take the basement and, Midge and Velma, how's the upstairs bedroom sound to you?"

  "Perfect!" Midge and Velma cried in unison. They raced off to do their duty. But a half hour later, after an exhaustive search, they had to admit defeat. They rejoined Mr. Donald and Micky downstairs in the living room, poring through a stack of papers they had found in a desk drawer.

  "There's nothing here besides the usual correspondence," Mr. Donald bemoaned. "Electric bill, grocery list-the man ate a lot of beans," he noted. "A shoe-repair bill, a receipt for some bullets, what's this?" he cried suddenly as he came across something in a plain brown wrapper. He ripped it open. "American Nudist Magazine," Mr. Donald read aloud. "Hmmn," he said as he flipped through the publication.

  Mr. Donald opened the magazine to a photo of a co-ed playing volleyball. Midge stared at the statuesque brunette wearing only sunglasses and a smile.

  Cherry and Jackie returned from the basement, which they had searched thoroughly, but to no avail. Nancy's letters were not downstairs!

  "Did you find the evidence?" Cherry asked when she saw Midge bending over the desk in concentrated study. "What are you looking at?" She blushed when she saw what was in Midge's hands. "My, she's a healthy girl," she stammered.

  "She certainly is," Velma agreed after she had taken a good look for herself.

  Midge hurriedly closed the magazine and slipped it back into the desk drawer.

  "Girls, we'd better get out of here," Mr. Donald fretted. "The bars are closed by now and the Chief is sure to be home soon."

  "No, he won't," Cherry blurted out. "He's dead."

  Mr. Donald looked surprised.

  "Er, did we forget to tell you the Chief had a little accident tonight that resulted in his unfortunate demise?" Midge asked.

  "What a pity," Mr. Donald exclaimed. "And I was so looking forward to seeing that man put in his place!"

  "I have a feeling you'll get your wish," Midge promised their new chum. She sighed as she thought of Nancy, sitting alone in a cold, dark jail cell. Where could those letters be? "We've got to look again!" Midge cried. "Every inch of this house has to be searched. We've got five hours until court opens. Let's go!"

  * * *

  CHAPTER 45

  * * *

  A Sudden Realization

  Nancy washed out her underthings in the little sink at one end of her tiny cell, humming a gay tune as she soaped and then rinsed her easy-care nylon half slip, silk stockings, and white cotton panties. "If I don't hum, I'll cry," she thought with a sigh as she surveyed the eight-by ten-foot cell. Drab gray stone walls and a curtainless, barred window set high above her head made for a cheerless interior. "Even a colorful rag rug and some starched gingham curtains wouldn't make this a sunny place," Nancy thought in dismay.

  Although she could see Hannah's touch everywhere she looked-the single iron bed with its scratchy wool blanket was neatly made up and boasted crisp hospital corners, and her prison-issue tin drinking cup had been shined to a warm luster-it wasn't enough to soften the gloomy room.

  And try as she might to keep busy performing the little tasks that make up a girl's evening toilet, Nancy soon found herself mulling over the mystery of the missing evidence. She had been so intent on making the switch with Hannah a success, she had pushed all other thoughts out of her mind. But now Jackie's words were back to haunt her, and in the silence of her cold, lonely cell, she could no longer ignore them.

  "He's the only one with the opportunity and the knowledge to commit the theft of your evidence."

  "If I could just get those words out of my head," she thought. She grabbed her hairbrush, took off the gray bun, and gave her trademark titian mane one hundred swift strokes.

  "Face it, Nancy. Chief Chumley is not your friend!"

  "Midge is wrong!" Nancy cried aloud. She clapped a hand over her mouth. She mustn't give herself away now, now that she had come so far! She peered out of her cell and down the dark hallway. Her closest neighbor, Miss Hildy Harms, a chronic shoplifter three cells down, appeared to be fast asleep. Luckily, murderesses were kept at the far end of Cell Block B, away from the general population.

  "Thank goodness I haven't any neighbors to see me remove my nose," Nancy thought. Mr. Donald had warned her not to sleep in the rubber prosthesis, as it could easily be stretched out of shape. Nancy had decided to keep the precious organ in her purse next to her bed.

  "That way I can easily slip it on during the night if the need should arise," she schemed.

  Her thoughts returned to the suspicions raised by Jackie and Midge.

  "If they only knew the Chief as I do, they'd realize how mistaken their crazy accusations are," Nancy told herself as she laid out her outfit for the morning-a tidy gray house dress and a crisp white apron. Sensible tan tie shoes would complete her look.

  Her tasks finished, she donned a plain white cotton nightgown and slipped into bed. She pulled the thin, scratchy blanket over her head. If a guard were to shine her light into the cell during the night, she would find nothing more than a sleeping housekeeper, securely tucked in bed.

  "Lights out, ladies," a woman's voice boomed through the corridor. The cell block grew dark. Suddenly Nancy wished she was home in her own bed with Cherry by her side.

  "I wonder what everyone's doing tonight?" she thought wistfully. She had to grin. She knew what Midge and Velma were doing! Then she sighed. "When I get out of here, I'm going to take Cherry into my arms and do the very same thing! "

  Just then a terrible thought came to her. What if her evidence was never found, and Hannah was convicted of murder?

  "Will I have to stay here for life?" Nancy wondered, shivering as she peered around the darkened cell. "What happens when Hannah makes a full recovery and wants to leave the house to go to the store? What then?"

  Nancy realized she hadn't thought through her plan in a very orderly fashion. "I haven't been thinking clearly for some time," Nancy mused. "Not since the day after I killed Father, when I started having martinis for breakfast. I'll just have to stop that!

  "Some detective you've turned out to be!" she chastised herself. "In the old days, you would have had this case sewn up long before now." She had never faced
such a quandary! "There's virtually no evidence as to who stole the letters, and the only likely suspect is someone who couldn't possibly have committed the crime!"

  She remembered what her instructor at Mr. Peeper's Professional School of Detecting had cautioned. "A good detective must put aside her own emotions and prejudices. Never go into a mystery with your eyes shut and your mind made up. Examine every clue, even if it leads to the most unlikely of suspects!"

  Could Midge and Jackie be right about Chief Chumley? Could he be the one behind the nefarious plot to railroad Hannah into jail?

  "Let's say Chief Chumley did it," Nancy reasoned. She shuddered to even think it. But it was her duty as a card-carrying detective to eliminate all possible suspects. She went over the events of the last few days carefully. Those she could remember, at any rate.

  "Since nothing valuable was missing from the house, I can rule out a cat burglar who happened upon the secret drawer in my hope chest.

  "Plus, when I think of it, it is odd that I received a threatening phone call in Wyoming, when the only person who knew I was there was the Chief!"

  The horrible incident in the Chief's office came flooding back. She could see the scene as clear as day-the queer expression on the Chief's face when she surprised him and his ugly and mean words when she confronted him with the truth.

  "And I'll never forget the way he pounded his fist on his desk," Nancy shivered. "Golly, I'm lucky he didn't throw that big entomology book at me!"

  It struck Nancy as odd that the Chief would have such an impressive tome on his desk. Why, she had never known him to read anything but true crime magazines and police rap sheets. "Before he came to me to solve The Case of The Insistent Insect he didn't even know the difference between a common house fly and a moth. He told me at the time that just the thought of bugs made his skin crawl," Nancy suddenly remembered. "So why is he suddenly reading a book called Exotic Entomology Made Easy?" Nancy wondered.