010 Buried Secrets

by Carolyn Keene

  All right, admit it, she told herself as she headed home, you’re jealous. Brenda found Neil Gray and you didn’t. She beat you on that one, and you don’t like it one bit.

  But had Brenda beaten Nancy on the really important one? Had Neil Gray killed John Harrington?

  He hated the Harringtons, Nancy thought; he hadn’t bothered to keep that a secret. And he’d admitted shooting at Todd, which hardly helped his case any. Somehow, though, Nancy had trouble believing that a man who was so honest about the way he felt would bother hiding what he’d done—even if what he’d done was murder. Neil Gray was so down on the Harringtons that he probably would have bragged about killing one of them. And it wasn’t just jealousy that made her want to solve this case. It was not knowing what had happened that was driving her crazy.

  By the time Nancy got home, the morning sun had been covered by a blanket of gray clouds, and a light rain was falling. After she let herself in through the back door of the house, she grabbed an apple from the kitchen table and headed for her room. The phone rang and she stopped to pick it up in the den.

  “Hi,” Ned said.

  Nancy’s mood suddenly turned gray, too. Was Ned going to tell her everything was over between them? That was all she needed. “Hi,” she answered. She almost wished she’d missed his call.

  “How’s everything?” he asked. “The house back together again?”

  “Just about.” The connection was still lousy, and Nancy reminded herself to complain to the phone company. Then, hoping to keep Ned from saying whatever he wanted to say, she started talking fast, telling him about Brenda and Neil Gray and the stone that had just missed crushing her skull.

  “This is getting serious,” Ned said.

  “Everyone keeps telling me that, and I’m beginning to believe it.”

  “It’s true,” Ned told her. “Listen, Nancy, about last night. I wanted to—”

  “You know what I think I’m going to do?” Nancy said, interrupting. “I think I’ll go back to Harrington House. There’s something I want to check out, and Todd’s going to be back soon, so I might not have another chance.” Anything, she thought. Anything to keep Ned from giving her bad news.

  “Okay,” Ned said doubtfully. “But be careful, Nancy. I mean it. You don’t know what’s going on, and you could get hurt.”

  “You’re right,” Nancy agreed. At least he still cares about whether or not I get hurt, she thought. “But don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

  “Call me when you get back,” Ned suggested. “I’d like to know what you find out, and besides, I really want to talk to you.”

  Nancy wasn’t so sure she really wanted to talk to him, but she agreed to call when she got back. Still eating the apple, she went back to the kitchen, grabbed a couple of slices of ham from the refrigerator, got back in the Mustang, and headed for Harrington House. She’d used it as an excuse to put Ned off, and she still wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but anything was better than sitting at home.

  After she parked in the narrow turnaround, Nancy got out and followed the wall to the broken spot. As soon as she touched down on the other side, the dogs came tearing toward her. But this time she was prepared. “Here, you moochers,” she called, tossing the ham at them. Satisfied, the dogs ignored her as she sprinted toward the mansion.

  Nancy decided to try to sneak past Barry. If she didn’t, she’d wind up stuffing a thousand envelopes, and she definitely was not in the mood for that.

  The front door was unlocked. Nancy let herself in, then tiptoed past the campaign rooms and up the circular staircase.

  The minute Nancy entered John Harrington’s office, she knew what she wanted to see: that tape recorder, hidden behind the canvas panel. Had Todd’s father been a music freak? And if so, where were his tapes?

  Nancy tried to lock the office door, but the lock didn’t work. The best she could do was shut it tightly. She located the canvas panel and managed to scrape a corner of it loose. Then, using her fingernails, she ripped and tugged until the canvas pulled free, showering the dusty Oriental carpet with chips and slivers of paint.

  A tape was still on one of the reels, its loose end dangling free. Hoping that it wouldn’t fall apart in her hands, Nancy carefully fed it onto the other reel. Then, crossing her fingers that it still worked, she checked to see that it was plugged in and then pushed the power button. A small red light came on. Nancy pushed Rewind. As if it had been waiting for someone to put it into action, the machine clicked and whirred, the tape rolling smoothly from one reel to the other.

  When the tape was rewound, Nancy pushed Play and stood back to listen.

  “But, John,” a man said in a shaken voice, “I don’t understand!”

  “Oh, I think you do,” another man said. His voice was smooth and steady, the voice of a man completely in charge. “You came to me and asked to be part of my staff. No one else would hire you because of your reputation, but I said yes even though you were suspected of buying votes in the last election.”

  “But I told you I wouldn’t do it anymore. And now you’re asking me to break the law again? You want me to go out and buy votes for you.”

  “No. I’m not asking you,” the second voice said. “I’m telling you. Because if you don’t, I’ll see to it that you are prosecuted for your mistakes, and you’ll never work in this state again!”

  Silence followed. Nancy listened to the soft hiss of the tape and shook her head in disbelief. Whether Neil Gray had killed Harrington or not, she thought, he was right about him—John Harrington was not one of the good guys. What she had just heard was blackmail. She tensed as another voice came through the speakers. Was she going to hear more of the same?

  It was just some quiet chatter between John Harrington and a speech writer. Then another period of silence, followed by a ringing telephone. John Harrington murmured softly and listened a lot, and Nancy had no idea what the conversation was about.

  Finally someone else joined him, and as Nancy listened, she realized it was Charles Ogden, the chauffeur.

  “Yes, Charles?” Harrington snapped.

  “Sorry to disturb you, sir,” Ogden said. “I wanted to let you know that I had those repairs taken care of. The limousine is in tip-top shape now.”

  “Let’s hope so.” A short pause. “Well?”

  Charles Ogden cleared his throat. “Sir, I realize you’re busy, but I need to speak to you about something personal.”

  Harrington sighed. “All right. What is it?”

  “It’s about my raise, sir,” Ogden said. “I’ve been here a year now.”

  “A year? That long?”

  “Yes, and you told me that, uh, after a year I’d probably get a raise.”

  “Hmm.” There was a creak. Harrington probably leaned back in his chair, Nancy thought. “Yes, I remember saying that,” he agreed. “But I also said that you’d probably get a raise if your work was satisfactory.”

  “Yes, you did,” Ogden said.

  “Sorry, Charles,” Harrington said, not sounding sorry at all. “No raise.”

  “But, sir!”

  “You don’t really expect one, do you? After all that has happened—cars breaking down, not ready on time, picking me up late—”

  “But that one time I was late there was a traffic accident! I had to wait!”

  “You should have left earlier,” Harrington told him. His voice was cold now, the way it had been with the unlucky vote-buyer. “And just yesterday, you got a flat tire and I was twenty minutes late for a speech.”

  “Sir, cars do break down!” Charles Ogden sounded desperate now, and Nancy couldn’t blame him. “None of the breakdowns have been my fault. You have to realize that!”

  “I don’t have to realize anything,” Harrington said. “I think that’s enough, Charles. It’s late, and I’ve got work to do.”

  Nancy heard the slam of a door. Charles Ogden must have left without another word. Nancy was picturing him storming over to Hannah’s, humiliated an
d angry, when suddenly it hit her. This conversation had been recorded on the day John Harrington died! She was actually listening to the man talk only a few hours before his death. And if she kept listening, she just might hear something that would unlock this whole mystery!

  Impatiently pacing the office floor, Nancy waited for what seemed like forever. First Harrington’s speech writer again, and a long conversation about what the main points of the speech were to be and where the jokes were to be inserted. The speech, Nancy noticed, made Harrington sound as though he cared more about the state and its people than anybody else in the world. That’s the joke, she thought.

  There wasn’t a lot of tape left. As Nancy watched the rain come down outside, she wondered if the tape was going to be another dead end.

  Finally, after a few more telephone calls, Nancy heard someone else come into the office. “I’m glad you’re here,” John Harrington said. “Because we have to have a talk, Sam.”

  Sam? He must be talking to Sam Abbott, once Harrington’s personal secretary and now the mayor of River Heights!

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  I’VE GOT THOSE reports you wanted,” a younger-voiced Abbott said. “It’s late, but I’ll be glad to go over them with you now.”

  “Forget the reports for the moment,” Harrington said. “Have a seat, Sam. We’ve both been so busy we haven’t had a chance to talk lately.”

  Nancy heard another creak and figured that Abbott had sat down. “I have to admit, I’ll be glad when the campaign’s over,” the future mayor said. “We could all use a couple weeks rest.”

  “Where are you planning to go?” Harrington asked.

  Abbott chuckled. “I haven’t had time to think about it. Some friends have a house in the country—maybe I’ll go there.”

  “Sounds nice,” Harrington agreed. “But I’m surprised you don’t just get yourself your own place. Or maybe do some traveling—Hawaii would be good this time of year, or the Caribbean.”

  “They’d be great,” Abbott said, laughing. “But I’m afraid my wallet isn’t fat enough for an island vacation.”

  “It’s not?” Harrington sounded surprised. “I was sure you were carrying two wallets these days. One with your money in it, and the other filled with mine.”

  For a moment, neither man spoke. John Harrington had just accused Abbott of stealing from him, and Nancy held her breath, wondering what Abbott’s answer would be.

  Finally Abbott said, “Why do you say that?”

  “I’ve watched you carefully, Sam,” Harrington told him. “You’re ambitious. You want power. The same kind of power I’ll have as soon as I win the election.”

  “You haven’t answered my question,” Abbott reminded him. “Why do you think I’ve got a wallet stuffed with your money?”

  “A conversation I overheard,” Harrington answered. “Several conversations, as a matter of fact. I won’t go into them all because they’re all pretty much the same. In one you were talking to a stockbroker, and you were telling him where to invest the money you’d just ‘inherited.’” Harrington laughed softly. “Now, I happen to know you never inherited any money, so I wondered where it came from. That’s when I checked the books—my campaign fund books. You did a good job of covering up all the funds you embezzled,” he said. “In fact, I doubt if anyone else could have spotted it.”

  “Then it can’t be proven,” Abbott said calmly.

  “But you forgot—I overheard your conversations, Sam,” Harrington said. “I have typed copies of them right here in the desk. You shouldn’t have used this phone, you know. That was your biggest mistake.”

  Abbott still sounded calm. “This phone isn’t tapped,” he said. “You know it and I know it. You’re bluffing.”

  “You’re right about the phone not being tapped,” Harrington agreed. “But listen to this.” There was the sound of a drawer opening, and then he began reading. After listening for a minute, Nancy knew he wasn’t bluffing.

  Sam Abbott knew it, too. No longer calm, his voice was tight and angry. “Where did you… how… ? What did you do, hide behind the bookcase and write down everything I said?”

  No, Nancy thought. He had his hidden tape recorder going.

  “Does it really matter?” Harrington asked. “The point is, I know what you’ve been up to. Now, I suppose you want to know what I’m going to do about it.”

  Abbott didn’t say anything.

  “I’m not going to fire you,” Harrington said. “And I’m not going to turn you in. Of course, I do expect you to give the money back.”

  “That’s all?” Abbott asked sarcastically.

  “That’s all,” Harrington said. “Except that you’ll never work for anyone but me, of course. And you’ll never be free to be a political force on your own.” He laughed again, a harsh, grating laugh. “From now on, you’ll do exactly as I say.”

  “You can’t do this!” Abbott cried angrily. “If you think I’m going to be your slave for the rest of my life, you’re wrong!”

  “Oh? What choice do you have?” Harrington asked. “Come on, Sam, you don’t have any choice and you know it. You work for me, and you’re always going to work for me.”

  Harrington laughed again. Then there was a cry, a shout, and a crash. Frozen, Nancy listened to the sound of papers being ripped—and then the tape ran out, stopping with a click that made her jump.

  Slowly Nancy went to the tape recorder and took off the reel of tape. Her hands were shaking. She had just heard Sam Abbott hit John Harrington, and even though she hadn’t heard the rest, she could imagine what had happened. Abbott must have found every piece of evidence about himself in the desk, destroyed them all, and then thrown Harrington’s body out the window.

  But he didn’t destroy all the evidence, Nancy thought, holding the tape. Because he didn’t know about the most incriminating piece. Only John Harrington knew about his secret taping system, and if she hadn’t stuck her head into that dumbwaiter shaft, she might never have found it, either.

  Still stunned by what she’d heard, Nancy began searching through the desk drawers until she found an old manila envelope. Carefully she slipped the tape inside. You can’t let anything happen to this, she told herself. It’s the only proof you’ve got.

  Nancy sealed the envelope and moved from behind the desk, planning to go downstairs to use one of Barry’s phones to call the police. As she passed one window, she stopped for a minute and rested her hands on the windowsill, thinking and staring blankly past the sheets of water.

  It was raining harder now. The wind was ripping leaves from the trees and splattering them against the pane. As she leaned forward, she looked far to her left and saw through the driving rain a black car pull up and stop beside the house.

  It has to be the same one, she thought. But no one followed me here, so how did anyone know where I was? Was it just a lucky guess? No! Suddenly Nancy knew what had happened. No one had followed her there, and no one had followed her that morning when she went to meet Brenda. They don’t need to follow me anymore, she thought. Because they tapped my phone! That’s what that break-in was all about. It wasn’t to scare me, it was to find out what I knew. They didn’t take anything from my house—they added something. Bugs for the phones.

  And Nancy knew then who’d ordered the break-in and the tap, too. Mayor Abbott. From the minute she’d started on this case, he’d been one step ahead of her, watching and waiting to see if she’d discover anything. Remembering the tall, skinny man she’d seen in his office the day she made her appointment, Nancy realized that he was the same guy who had held the shotgun on her and had tried to scare her off and kill her. And now the mayor had sent him after her again.

  But he’s out of luck, Nancy thought, heading for the door. He hasn’t scared me off yet, and I’m not about to be killed. Not when I’ve got the evidence in my hands.

  Nancy opened the door and raced for the circular staircase. She’d go down one floor, she thought, find a room, an
d hide in it until the mayor’s lackey was gone. Then she’d get out of Harrington House and to the police as fast as she could.

  Halfway down the spiral stairs, Nancy heard footsteps rushing down the hallway on the floor below. Silently she bounded back up and ran into the tower office and shut the door.

  The footsteps were on the spiral stairs leading to the tower office now, and as Nancy looked frantically around the office, she realized that there was no place to hide.

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  THE ONLY THING to do, Nancy thought, is to stand behind the door and rush out when it’s opened. She flattened herself against the wall, her eyes still darting around the room. That was when she saw the button for the dumbwaiter.

  In a second Nancy was across the room—jabbing at the button, listening to the footsteps on the stairs, and praying.

  Outside the door, the footsteps slowed to a cautious walk. That was all the time Nancy needed. The dumbwaiter arrived, and she scrambled inside, jabbing the button just as the office door swung open.

  As the dumbwaiter started to creak its way down, Nancy heard the office door slam. Quick footsteps moved straight for the exposed tape recorder. Soon Mayor Abbott would figure out exactly how John Harrington had discovered what he was up to. But that won’t help him any, Nancy thought, holding tightly to the crucial tape. He’ll never get his hands on this.

  It was dark and stuffy inside the dumbwaiter, but even in there Nancy could hear the thunder outside. The storm was getting worse. Driving down the cliff road in the middle of an electrical storm was not going to be fun, but Nancy knew she’d have to do it—and she’d have to do it quickly.

  Finally, with a jerk and a thump, the dumbwaiter landed and Nancy slid the panel open. She got out and found herself in the biggest kitchen she’d ever seen. Two massive stoves were against one wall, and two refrigerators loomed against another. In the middle of the black- and white-tiled floor was a big wooden counter with copper pots and pans hanging over it.