010 Buried Secrets

by Carolyn Keene

  Slowly the man lowered the shotgun until it was pointing at the floor. He took a few steps back and then gestured toward the door. “Downstairs,” he said. “You’re supposed to be downstairs.”

  “Where downstairs?” Nancy asked. She had a funny feeling that this man wasn’t the caretaker. “Third floor? Second floor? First?”

  “Find it yourselves,” the man said. “And don’t come snooping up here again, or it’ll be you Mr. Harrington’ll be unhappy with.”

  Raising the gun again, the man backed out the door, slamming it behind him.

  “Quick!” Nancy cried as soon as he was gone. “Let’s follow him!”

  “I thought you were interested in that tape recorder,” Bess said.

  “I am, but it’ll have to wait.” Nancy yanked open the door. “Right now I’m more interested in finding out who that guy really is!”

  His voice was different from the one in my garage, Nancy thought as they clattered down the winding stairs, but he’s tall. And I’ll bet he was the guy in my garage and the guy who followed me in that black car.

  As they dashed down the big entry hall toward the front door, they almost collided with Barry. “What’s the rush?” he said, looking startled.

  “The caretaker!” Nancy shouted, without stopping. “Which way’d the caretaker go?”

  “You mean old Al? It’s Al’s day off,” Barry said. “Hey!” he called after them. “What about the envelopes?”

  “Later!” Nancy called back. “Sorry!”

  Outside, there was no sign of the “caretaker.” Nancy stopped for a second and listened. There it was—the sound of a car, its engine roaring as it sped down the long drive toward the front gates.

  “Come on!” Nancy cried. “If we hurry, we might just make it!”

  Together, the three girls rushed across the grounds and through the trees, heading for the crumbled part of the wall they’d climbed earlier. If we can get to my car in time, Nancy thought, we can follow him all the way back to River Heights if we have to.

  Just as they were scrambling over the wall, Nancy heard a car again. This time it was moving fast down the cliff road, but suddenly it stopped. The girls continued to run through the woods, following the wall out to the road. As they were just about to break through the last of the underbrush, they heard the car start up again and roar away.

  They sprinted the couple hundred feet to the Mustang and piled in. Before the doors were even shut, Nancy was turning the key in the ignition.

  But the engine didn’t start. Instead, it groaned and clunked. Her hand shaking, Nancy tried again. Another groan and clunk, but still no life.

  “Sounds as if the battery’s dead,” George said.

  “It can’t be.” Fumbling with the door handle, Nancy got out of the car and raised the hood. “The battery’s fine,” she called out. “But that jerk just took my distributor cap!”

  Slamming down the hood, Nancy shook her head in frustration. The shotgun-toting “caretaker” was probably halfway back to town by then.

  Slowly this time, the girls trudged back to Harrington House. While Bess apologized to Barry for their running out on him, Nancy called for a tow truck. The truck took an hour to arrive, and when they finally got back to town, Nancy realized she wouldn’t have time to go home and clean up for her meeting with Mayor Abbott.

  “Actually, it’s been kind of fun,” Bess said as the three of them left the repair station in the fixed Mustang. “I even got some exercise, and it was a lot more exciting than jogging.”

  “I get the feeling your jogging days are over,” George commented.

  “Right,” Bess agreed. “I just found a new interest—working for the Harrington campaign.”

  Laughing, Nancy let them out by a bus stop downtown, then parked and went into the mayor’s outer office. She was tired, her clothes were dirty from climbing the wall, and her hair needed a good brushing, but at least she was on time.

  Unfortunately, the mayor wasn’t. “He’s in an important meeting,” his secretary explained to Nancy. “He’ll be with you as soon as he can.”

  Forty-five minutes went by. Nancy jumped every time the secretary’s intercom buzzed, and then slumped back in her chair, waiting. Finally, after an hour, the mayor emerged from his office.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Drew,” Sam Abbott said, shaking her hand. His dark hair was graying, and he looked tired, but his blue eyes were clear and sharp. Nancy knew that he didn’t miss a thing. “Come on in and let’s talk.”

  Feeling very rumpled, Nancy went into the mayor’s office and sat down in a soft leather chair. “I guess you know that I’m investigating John Harrington’s death,” she said.

  “Yes, my secretary mentioned that,” the mayor said, easing into the chair behind his shiny wooden desk. He studied her for a minute before continuing, “Do you really think you’ll be able to uncover anything new—or that there is anything to uncover?”

  Nancy started to say that since she’d been threatened three times already, she was pretty sure that somebody was trying to keep something covered up. But then she changed her mind. After all, she reasoned, she couldn’t trust anybody—not even the mayor of River Heights.

  “I don’t really know,” she answered. “But I’m going to try.”

  “Well, I wish you luck.” The mayor smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Now, how can I help you?”

  Even though she knew what he was going to say, Nancy asked him to tell her what had happened the night John Harrington died. And she was right—Mayor Abbott didn’t tell her anything she hadn’t already heard. Yes, Charles Ogden had asked for a raise. In fact, he—Abbott—had been there at the time. And, yes, Ogden had been upset when he left, but when he had come back he seemed calm.

  “And later he drove you home?” Nancy asked.

  “That’s right. It was about eleven-thirty.”

  And John Harrington was killed sometime around midnight, Nancy thought. Ogden couldn’t have gotten back in time to do it.

  “What about Neil Gray?” she asked.

  Neil Gray had been upset, too, the mayor told her. “In fact,” he said, “upset isn’t quite the word for it—outraged is better. The man ranted and raved in the entry hall, accusing John Harrington of sabotaging his campaign and ruining his life. I practically had to throw him out the door.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where Neil Gray is, would you?” Nancy asked. “Or Charles Ogden?”

  The mayor shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Miss Drew. But I wouldn’t waste my time with Ogden, if I were you. For what it’s worth, I’d put my money on Neil Gray. I suspected him then, and I suspect him now.”

  “Because of the way he acted?”

  “Of course,” the mayor agreed. “But it’s more than that.” He leaned across the desk, his eyes serious and concerned. “Neil Gray had no chance running against John Harrington. Mr. Harrington was an outstanding man, and he was going to be the best governor this state ever had. Neil Gray knew it—and he couldn’t stand it.”

  • • •

  An outstanding man? Nancy wondered as she drove home ten minutes later. If John Harrington had been so outstanding, it must have been the best-kept secret in the state. Nancy’s own father didn’t think he’d been so outstanding. Ned’s parents didn’t think he should have been put up on a pedestal. Charles Ogden and Neil Gray presumably disliked him. So why did Mayor Abbott think he had been so terrific?

  Of course, Sam Abbott had been John Harrington’s personal secretary, Nancy reminded herself. He probably knew more about him than most people. Still, it was funny that the mayor was the only one who thought Harrington was one of the good guys.

  When Nancy got home, every outside light was blazing even though it was barely dusk yet. Nancy had told Hannah what had happened the night before, and it was obvious that Hannah was making sure no one else sneaked into their garage.

  Nancy parked her car in the driveway—just in case—then got out and headed for t
he front door. Max, the neighbors’ black cat, was standing on the porch. Nancy stooped to pet him—and just then she heard a scream.

  The scream was coming from inside her house, and the voice was Hannah’s.

  Chapter

  Ten

  THIEF!” HANNAH SCREAMED, her terrified voice ringing through the night.

  Before Nancy could move, the front door flew open and Hannah rushed outside, colliding with Nancy, who fell backward, stepping on Max’s paw. Yowling and hissing, the cat took off like a streak.

  “Hannah, what happened?” Nancy cried as she scrambled up.

  “Inside!” Hannah gasped. “He’s still inside!”

  Without waiting to hear any more, Nancy ran into the house, skidding on the hall rug and almost falling into the living room. The room was a wreck, but no one was there.

  Next she went into the den. It was a mess, too—the desk drawers had been pulled out and emptied, the couch pillows were tossed on the floor, books and records were scattered everywhere.

  A soft thump from the kitchen made Nancy freeze. Then, cautiously, she tiptoed out of the den and down the hall. Her heart pounding, she peered into the kitchen.

  Cereal boxes, cans, and cookbooks littered the floor. A bag of flour had been ripped open, vegetables and fruit were dumped in the sink, and the garbage can was turned upside down. The back door stood wide open, and in the doorway stood Max the cat.

  Nancy let her breath out. It must have been the cat she had heard, and not the thief. Whoever had wrecked the house had escaped.

  “Nancy?” A pale-faced Hannah appeared in the doorway. “Are you all right? Is he gone?”

  Nancy nodded, heading for the phone to call the police. “What happened, Hannah?”

  “I don’t really know,” Hannah said. “I was visiting next door. When I came back, I took one look at the kitchen and I knew we’d been robbed, but I didn’t even think that the thief might still be here. I was walking toward the living room when I heard a noise coming from the den.” She shuddered. “I got there just in time to see a man leaving by the front door.”

  On the phone, Nancy told the police what had happened, gave her name and address, and then turned back to Hannah. “What did he look like?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid I couldn’t see him,” Hannah admitted. “I was terrified. And he was wearing dark clothes and dark leather gloves. And he had a ski mask over his entire head, like one of those international terrorists.”

  “A terrorist wouldn’t waste his time with us. This guy was just a run-of-the-mill housebreaker.” Nancy glanced around the kitchen. “I can’t believe what a mess this place is. Maybe we should just move!”

  A loud rapping at the front door sent the cat scurrying outside and made Hannah and Nancy jump. “It can’t be our friendly visitor,” Nancy said with a nervous laugh. “He wouldn’t knock.”

  Two policemen stood on the porch, and Nancy let them in. “Get ready for a wreck,” she told them as they followed her into the living room. She took them through the entire house and for the first time got a look at what the thief had done to her bedroom.

  “It’s going to take forever to put it back together,” she moaned, staring at the papers, clothes, and cassette tapes that covered every inch of the floor.

  “Yep,” one of the officers agreed cheerfully. “The guy didn’t miss much, I’ve got to hand him that.”

  I’d like to hand him something, Nancy thought, looking around her room. A broom, for one. And a prison uniform.

  While the police were questioning Hannah in the kitchen, Nancy halfheartedly picked up a pile of cassettes and stacked them on top of her recorder. She gathered an armful of sweaters from the floor and started toward the dresser. Suddenly she let the bright-colored tops slip back out of her hands.

  What had the policeman said—that the guy didn’t miss much? But her tape recorder was still there, in plain sight on the white Formica shelf. Next to it was her television, and on the desk sat a personal computer. If Nancy had been out doing a dishonest day’s work, she wouldn’t have passed those up.

  And what about the TV and the stereo and the VCR downstairs?

  Frowning, Nancy went back through those rooms and saw what she’d missed before—nothing valuable was gone. In fact, it didn’t look as though anything was gone. She walked into the kitchen, found the extra sugar bowl they used for change, and opened it. Coins and a few dollar bills were still inside.

  “He wouldn’t be after the small change,” one of the policemen pointed out.

  Nancy nodded. “But he wasn’t after the big change, either. I just noticed, he didn’t take anything he could sell, like the TV or my tape recorder.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that, too,” the officer agreed. “Weird thief, huh?”

  “I’m pretty sure he wasn’t a thief at all,” Nancy told him. “I think this whole thing was just a way of trying to scare me.” Quickly she explained about her investigation into John Harrington’s death and the other warnings she’d gotten.

  “And you think that’s what this was?” the policeman asked. “Another warning?”

  “I’m positive.”

  He gave a low whistle. “Well, you may be right. And if you are, maybe you ought to back off. This guy sounds serious.”

  “He is,” Nancy said, walking with them to the door. “But so am I. And I’m not about to back off.”

  Wishing her luck, the policemen headed for their car. Nancy was just about to close the door when she saw a car pull up. Ned got out and walked toward her.

  He couldn’t have come at a worse time, Nancy thought, trying to comb her hair with her fingers. I look as if I’ve been on a five-day hike.

  “What’s going on?” Ned asked, a worried look in his brown eyes. “Why were the police here? Are you all right?”

  “I am,” Nancy said. “But the house may never be the same.” She sat down on the front steps and told Ned what had happened.

  Shaking his head, Ned sat down beside her. “What are you going to do?”

  “What can I do but solve the case as fast as I can,” Nancy said. She leaned back against a porch pillar and closed her eyes. “I just wish I had something more to go on. So far, I don’t have a single good lead.” As Nancy spoke, Max leaped silently onto the porch and rubbed against her ankles. Nancy scratched him between the ears until he purred.

  “He likes you,” Ned said.

  “Umm.”

  “So do I.”

  Nancy looked over and smiled at Ned. “The feeling’s mutual,” she said softly. Maybe the day wouldn’t be a total loss after all.

  Ned scooted a little closer to her. “I came by to see if you wanted to go for a ride, maybe get something to eat,” he said. “I tried to call, but your phone wasn’t working.”

  “It wasn’t? It worked fine when I called the police.”

  Ned shrugged. “I don’t know. Must have just been something temporary. Anyway, how about supper?”

  “Supper sounds great.” It really does, Nancy thought. She just wished she could go. “But even if the house could clean itself, I couldn’t leave Hannah,” she explained. “Seeing that guy really shook her up.”

  Ned nodded, and Nancy was glad to see that he looked sympathetic. “And I’d invite you in, but we’d have to do a major clean-up before we could even sit down,” she said.

  “It’s okay,” Ned told her. “It’s nice out here.” He scooted closer to Nancy. “A front porch is always a good place for a nice serious talk.”

  Serious? Suddenly Nancy was worried. What was he going to say? She swallowed and sat up straighter, trying to get ready for whatever Ned had to tell her.

  “Nancy,” he said, reaching for her hand, “this is really hard—”

  At that moment Hannah opened the front door. Normally she would have gone back inside to give them privacy. But right then Hannah hardly seemed to notice that Ned was there. She looked worried, nervous—and determined.

  “Nancy, I have to talk to you,” s
he said. “It’s very important.”

  “Sure, Hannah,” Nancy said, wondering what could be wrong. She turned to Ned to apologize, but he’d already stood up.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” he said.

  “Okay,” Nancy said. She was almost relieved. After all, if Ned was going to give her bad news, she could wait to hear it. Right then she was more worried about Hannah.

  “I’ve never spoken to anyone about this,” Hannah said after they stepped back inside and went into the kitchen. “For years I kept it a secret, and after all this time I started to think it was all just my imagination. But I can’t think that anymore.” She took a deep breath. “This case you’re on could be dangerous, Nancy, and I have to tell you what I’ve kept secret all this time.”

  Nancy couldn’t imagine Hannah having any kind of horrible secret. “What is it?” she asked.

  Hannah clasped her hands together nervously, but her voice was steady. “I’ve always thought—and I still think—that Charlie Ogden might have killed John Harrington.”

  Chapter

  Eleven

  COMPLETELY STUNNED, NANCY stared at Hannah. Of course, Nancy herself had thought that Charles Ogden might have been involved in John Harrington’s death. But to hear Hannah—who’d been in love with the man—say that he might be a murderer was a real jolt.

  “I wasn’t completely honest with you, Nancy,” Hannah went on. “I told you that Charlie was upset when he didn’t get that raise. But the truth is, he was absolutely furious. And when he left, he told me he was going to go back and give Mr. Harrington a piece of his mind.” Hannah shook her head. “I’d never seen Charlie like that; he was so angry it was frightening.”

  “But you calmed him down,” Nancy reminded her. “Mayor Abbott said he was okay when he came back. Besides, Hannah, Ogden’s and the mayor’s stories match. They left Harrington House together, and John Harrington was still alive then.”