Chapter
One
NANCY! IT’S SENATOR Kilpatrick in Washington, for you!”
Eighteen-year-old Nancy Drew took the phone from her father, an expectant look on her pretty face. “Nancy Drew speaking,” she said in a pleasant, self-confident tone.
“Please hold for the senator, Ms. Drew,” said the senator’s secretary.
Carson Drew pointed in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll get us some tea,” he mouthed while Nancy waited for the senator’s staff member to put the call through.
Senator Marilyn Kilpatrick had been an old friend and legal client of Carson Drew’s since Nancy was a little girl. The last time the senator had asked to speak only to her, she had led Nancy to a dangerous case that turned out to be a matter of international intrigue. Was it possible that something just as urgent had come up again? Nancy wondered.
“Hello, Nancy.” Marilyn Kilpatrick’s rich voice floated over the wires. “How’s life in River Heights?”
“Fine,” answered Nancy with a smile. “But we miss you on the city council.”
Marilyn Kilpatrick had started her political career in River Heights. Her work in Nancy’s hometown earned her the kind of public trust that eventually got her elected to the United States Senate.
“I miss those days sometimes, Nancy. Washington can be tough.”
Nancy frowned. There was a hint of anxiety in the older woman’s normally vibrant voice. “Is something the matter, Senator?” she asked. “You sound upset.”
Marilyn Kilpatrick hesitated. “I do have a problem, Nancy, but I’d rather not talk about it on the phone. Would it be possible for you to come to Washington?”
Nancy’s blue eyes widened. If something big was up, she wanted to do all she could for her family friend. She wasn’t investigating any mysteries in town, so a trip to Washington sounded exciting, even though she knew it might prove dangerous. “When would you want me to be there?”
“As soon as possible. Take the next available flight out of Chicago. You’ll probably get here late, so I’ll have my staff book you into the airport motel,” the senator said. “I know it’s awfully short notice, but this is very important, Nancy. It may be a matter of life and death.”
“I’m on my way,” said Nancy decisively. “Where and when should we meet?”
“How about my office, first thing tomorrow morning. And Nancy? Thanks. It means a lot—and not just to me. Say hello to your father for me, and tell him not to worry. I’ll take good care of you while you’re here.”
“All right, I’ll do that. Take care, Senator. I’ll see you soon!”
After she hung up, Nancy leaned back on the sofa in the Drews’ living room. “Not just to me”—Nancy recalled Marilyn Kilpatrick’s words. Who else did the senator have in mind?
The last time she had worked for Marilyn Kilpatrick, the case had revolved around Teresa Montenegro, a young tennis star from San Carlos who looked almost like Nancy’s twin.
Nancy and her friends George Fayne and Bess Marvin had saved Teresa from an untimely death at the hands of vicious San Carlos assassination squads. Nancy’s heart beat a little faster when she remembered how close she had come to getting killed during that case. The memory of it was still very fresh in her mind. She loved the thrill of tracking down criminals, but dodging international death squads was not her idea of a good time.
Carson Drew came back into the living room at that moment carrying two cups of steaming tea. “Well,” he said brightly, “and what did Marilyn have to say? Don’t tell me she wants you to play sitting target again, because if she does, forget it. You take enough chances in a normal day’s work.”
“Actually, Dad,” said Nancy, hunching forward and brushing a hand through her silky reddish blond hair, “she wouldn’t tell me what she wanted. She just asked me to come to Washington to find out.”
“Oh?” said Carson thoughtfully. “And when does she want you there?”
“Right away,” answered Nancy. “She said hello and told me to tell you not to worry. So is it all right with you if I start packing?”
“Hmm,” her father said, taking a sip of tea. “You’re not going to try to catch a plane now, are you?”
“Marilyn wants me to be at her office first thing in the morning,” Nancy explained. “I have to take the next flight. I’ll stay at a motel near the airport tonight. I’ll just take a small suitcase, since I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. If I need more things, I’ll ask Hannah to send them on.”
Hannah Gruen, the Drews’ housekeeper, had taken care of Nancy since Nancy’s mother had died when she was just three. Hannah had been her nanny, her teacher, her friend—as close to a mother as Nancy could have hoped to have. Neither Carson nor Nancy could have run the household without her.
“Well, I suppose you’ve got to hear Marilyn out, at least,” muttered Carson. “But if this turns out to be another death squad case, I want you to turn right around and come home!”
“Okay. I promise,” Nancy said as she stood up, anxious to get ready. It would only alarm her father if she mentioned that Marilyn had termed it “a matter of life and death.” He was worried enough about her already. Nancy knew it wasn’t easy for him to have a daughter who was always getting into dangerous situations, and Carson bore it about as gracefully as any father could have.
“I’ll be fine, Dad,” she assured him, kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll call you at the office tomorrow, okay?”
“Don’t forget,” he said, giving her a quick hug. “And, Nancy, watch your step in Washington. Remember, you’re my only daughter!”
• • •
“The senator will be right with you, Ms. Drew,” said the young man at the desk, giving Nancy a more than polite smile. Guys usually found it hard to ignore Nancy’s good looks, and this one was no exception.
Even though she liked the attention, Nancy was loyal to one guy only—Ned Nickerson. Ned had been her boyfriend for a long time, and Nancy doubted that there was a better one in the world. He was loyal and loving, and he had a great sense of humor. Of course, his good looks didn’t hurt, either.
Even though they were apart right now—Ned was at Emerson College, while she remained at home in River Heights—their relationship was very much alive. With a polite nod, Nancy sat down in a corner with a magazine.
About thirty seconds later Marilyn Kilpatrick swept out of her office, purse in hand. “Nancy, it’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
“Hello, Senator. How are you?” Nancy asked. She gave the senator an affectionate hug.
“I’m fine, just fine. And remember—it’s just Marilyn, please.” Nancy nodded. “Let’s get going!” Senator Kilpatrick took Nancy’s arm and steered her to the elevator.
“Please cancel all my appointments for this morning, Richard,” Marilyn called out to the young man. “If anybody phones, I’ll get back to them later.”
“Right,” said Richard with a little wave. “ ’Bye, Ms. Drew,” he called after Nancy. “See you again, I hope.” Nancy turned and saw that he was still smiling as she stepped into the elevator.
“Where are we going?” she asked a few minutes later as they headed out into the street.
“Just for a little walk,” answered Marilyn Kilpatrick evenly. The senator was a handsome woman, tall and businesslike. Her rich auburn hair had only a touch of gray sprinkled through it, and her large brown eyes sparkled with an unbeatable combination of intelligence and warmth. But that day Nancy saw only how deeply troubled they looked.
Nancy followed along quietly, letting the senator lead the way. When they passed under some shady sycamores, Senator Kilpatrick stopped, pulled out a makeup case, and pretended to give her face a once-over. Then, closing the com
pact, she turned to Nancy. “It’s okay. We’re not being followed,” she said, relaxing for the first time since Nancy had met her that day.
“Thank you for seeing me, Nancy. I apologize for being so mysterious. Fact is, I brought you out here because I think my office—and my phone lines—may be bugged.”
Nancy couldn’t believe it. Bugging the office of a United States senator was serious. “What makes you think so?” she asked quietly.
Marilyn threw her arm around Nancy’s shoulders as they walked down the sidewalk. “Let me start at the beginning. Have you ever heard of Beverly Bishop?”
“You mean the columnist? I don’t usually read her, but I know about her. I’ve seen her face on several magazine covers lately. What’s going on?”
“Well, she’s about to publish her first book. She’s promising to ‘tell all,’ and if you know Beverly Bishop . . .” The senator rolled her eyes and threw Nancy a meaningful look.
Nancy paused and waited for some people to pass them. She wanted to ask her next question in complete privacy. “Marilyn,” she said, meeting the senator’s eyes, “are you saying Beverly Bishop has something on you?”
Marilyn returned Nancy’s serious look. “I ran into her at one of Della Hawks’s parties the other night. You must have heard of Della—she’s a legend here in Washington, married to Justice Hawks. Anyway, Beverly was glaring at me. She’s never really forgiven me for not giving her an exclusive interview when I first came to town, so I figured she was just expressing her disdain for me in general. But then she walked up to me and said, ‘Be prepared, Senator—the whole world is soon going to know your intriguing little secret.’ ”
Marilyn gave a little shiver as they started walking back toward the Senate building. Nancy watched the worry lines in the senator’s forehead reappear. The implication was clear. Marilyn Kilpatrick had a secret—a big one.
“All right,” continued the senator, almost whispering. “I know what your next question will be, so here’s the answer. I suspect that Beverly Bishop has found out that I did something illegal to get Teresa Montenegro out of San Carlos.”
So it was about Teresa again!
“And it has occurred to me that Beverly might have hired someone to tap my phone,” the senator continued. “I want you to know, Nancy, that my personal life is clean. I knew a long time ago that I wanted to work in government, and I’ve always acted accordingly. And as far as my political past is concerned, integrity has always been my watchword.
“San Carlos was in the middle of a civil war. At the time, Teresa’s entire family was dead or in prison, and there was no one to help her—no one to stop her from being killed.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, Nancy, but I used some of my own money to buy Teresa’s safety. I hated making a deal like that, but I couldn’t bear to see anything happen to a beautiful, intelligent, and talented girl like Teresa.
“Of course, if it ever came out that I bribed anyone, no matter how good the reason, my career could be ruined.
“Unfortunately,” Marilyn went on, walking into the Senate lobby, “there’s even more at stake. You see, in order to get Teresa out of San Carlos, I had to swear that certain facts about the thugs would never come out. The thugs threatened to have Teresa killed if I ever revealed their secrets.
“Believe me, Nancy, the people I dealt with are very powerful. They’d think nothing of murdering Teresa, and I’m terrified for her.”
Nancy was wondering why the senator had asked her to come to Washington. There was nothing she could do to stop Beverly Bishop’s book from being published. Maybe Marilyn Kilpatrick wanted her to find the bugs in her office—or find out how the information had been leaked to the columnist. Nancy had been concentrating so hard that she hadn’t even noticed the large number of reporters who had appeared and were surrounding them in the lobby. “Senator, what about the education bill?” one of them called out.
“I fully support it, and I look forward to voting for it,” the senator replied just as the doors of the elevator opened and closed, leaving Nancy and her alone. She gave Nancy a weary smile as she pressed the button for her floor.
“Marilyn, how much does Teresa know about the situation with Beverly Bishop?” asked Nancy as they rode up.
“Not much. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her anything about Beverly or about the book. Teresa was hunted for so long, and now she’s finally making a new life for herself in the United States. I’d hate to see her terrified again. Her biggest problem lately has been to stay away from the press. I just can’t tell her that the press already knows everything about her—or soon will. I’ve got to persuade Beverly to keep quiet—”
The senator stopped talking as they stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall to her office.
Nancy could understand why the senator wanted Beverly Bishop to keep quiet: the whole situation was a political bombshell, and two people were likely to get hurt, at the very least.
“Everyone’s out. Hmm,” Senator Kilpatrick observed as the two strolled into her empty outer office. “Well, come on in,” she said, opening the door to her office. “I think it would be best if you stayed with me, so I’ll give you the keys to my apartment, and—”
As the door swung open, the senator and Nancy stopped dead. There, seated in the senator’s chair, her black patent leather pumps resting comfortably on the desktop, sat Beverly Bishop. The look in her eyes was pure poison.
“Hello, Marilyn dear,” she spat out in a clipped, angry tone. “Just thought I’d drop by to tell you to enjoy your next few days in office, because they’re going to be your last!”
Chapter
Two
HELLO, BEVERLY. THIS is quite a surprise,” said the senator coolly.
“You can skip the amenities, Senator. I said you’re through, and I meant it.” Beverly Bishop shot Senator Kilpatrick a withering glare and slowly put her feet down on the floor. She stood and smoothed out her black-and-white houndstooth blazer. Nancy noticed that the jacket complemented her straight black skirt and sheer stockings perfectly.
“When the people of this town find out just how phony your so-called integrity is, I predict you’ll be looking for work as a waitress in the Senate lunchroom.” With a wicked laugh, the columnist anticipated the full effect of her words on Marilyn Kilpatrick.
The senator didn’t give an inch. If she was surprised by the viciousness of Beverly Bishop’s sudden attack, she didn’t show it. “How can I help you, Beverly?” she asked, a tinge of sarcasm in her voice. “I see you’ve already made yourself quite comfortable.”
“Oh, I get around. That’s my business, remember?” the columnist purred. “You’ll have to excuse me for not saying hello right away, Teresa.” This time she was looking straight at Nancy. “I see you take your little refugee tennis player everywhere,” she continued in a condescending tone. “Isn’t that noble of you.”
Nancy didn’t want to respond to the columnist’s contemptuous comment without practicing her San Carlos accent first. She had to let Ms. Bishop think she was Teresa Montenegro, or she’d never get a chance to talk to her later! Fortunately, Beverly Bishop didn’t wait for her to speak.
“I just want you to know, Senator,” she continued, her voice dripping with venom, “that threats will not work on me!”
The senator looked genuinely confused. “What are you talking about? What threats?”
The columnist pushed a paper across Marilyn Kilpatrick’s desk. “ ‘What threats?’ How cute.”
Pasted on the sheet of plain white typing paper were block letters, which had been cut from magazines. “If you publish, you’ll perish,” the message read.
“I’ve been threatened before, Senator, by people who have since plunged into total obscurity. Don’t think something like this will stand in my way.”
Nancy couldn’t help noticing that the senator’s fingers shook as she picked up the message. Did that mean that Marilyn Kilpatrick had had something to do with the t
hreatening letter? Nancy wondered. No, that was ridiculous, she assured herself—wasn’t it?
“If you think I had anything to do with this—” Marilyn began.
Ms. Bishop cut the senator off with a laugh. “There’s no if about it, my dear Marilyn. Smell the paper!”
As she lifted the paper to her nose, Marilyn paled. Even Nancy caught a whiff of the cologne the note was drenched in.
“Worth perfume. You’ve been wearing it for years now—correct me if I’m wrong.” Beverly Bishop stood up and walked around the desk. “I hate cheap tricks, Senator. Try this or anything like this again and I’ll go straight to the police!”
With that, and a nod to Nancy, Beverly Bishop swept past them toward the door. “Oh,” she added, turning around. “Miss Montenegro, please understand that my feelings for Senator Kilpatrick have nothing whatsoever to do with you. In fact, if you ever care to give an interview—an exclusive, that is—just give me a call.” And, giving an imperious shake of her platinum blond head, she stepped out of the room and pulled the door firmly shut.
“Whew.” Senator Kilpatrick shuddered and sank into the chair at her desk. “That really is strange. She’s right about the cologne. That’s the kind I usually do wear. But who could have threatened her like that?”
“Well, it’s got to be a frame-up. My guess is it was sent by somebody who wanted her to trace the note to you,” said Nancy, pulling up a chair next to the senator’s desk. “Any ideas?”
Marilyn Kilpatrick considered and then shook her head sadly. “I’ve always worked so hard at not making enemies. I didn’t think I had any who would stoop to this sort of trick.”
“Then let’s try it from this angle—who else is afraid of what Beverly Bishop may know?” asked Nancy.
“Good Lord, Beverly has single-handedly ruined lots of careers in Washington—and marriages, too, for that matter. There are so many people who might try to stop her from publishing that book . . .” The senator was absentmindedly fidgeting with the papers on her desk.
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