Shadow of a Doubt

by Carolyn Keene

  Chapter

  One

  NANCY DREW HEARD a click and then the long buzz of a dial tone.

  “Who was that, Nan?” her friend George Fayne asked, curious.

  The girls were in Nancy’s bedroom, getting ready to go out to dinner with Nancy’s father, Carson Drew. George’s cousin, Bess Marvin, was putting a last coat of Marvelous Red polish on her fingernails.

  “Who did you say it was?” Bess asked without looking up.

  Nancy shrugged and put the phone back on the hook. “Wrong number, I guess. Whoever it was hung up, anyway.”

  “Well, if it was Ned, he’ll call back. He wouldn’t hang up on purpose,” Bess said comfortingly.

  Ned Nickerson was Nancy’s steady boyfriend, but she didn’t get many chances to see him because he was away at school, at Emerson College.

  Hearing Ned’s name made Nancy think about his warm brown eyes and good looks. A slow smile spread across her face as she imagined herself in his arms. Then a long sigh from Bess brought Nancy back to earth.

  “Whatever you wear looks great on you,” Bess said to her. Nancy was wearing a hip-length slate blue cashmere sweater over black satin pants.

  “Bess, you’re terrific for my ego,” Nancy replied, smiling and pushing her reddish blond hair back from her face. One quick glance in the mirror told her that the sweater had been a good choice. It complemented the graceful curves of her slim figure and brought out the blue in her eyes.

  “Why on earth did I buy this dress?” Bess asked, slipping in front of Nancy to look at herself in the mirror. She smoothed the soft, gray jersey over her hips. “It doesn’t do a thing for me. If only I had lost five pounds before tonight.”

  Nancy grinned. With her long blond curls and bright blue eyes, Bess was a knockout. “You look gorgeous. And anyway, it’s only dinner with my father,” she told her friend.

  “Sure. But you never know when you’re going to meet a cute waiter,” Bess said.

  Bess’s cousin, George Fayne, shook her head and rolled her eyes at Nancy. “In her case it’s probably true. She will meet an adorable waiter,” she said. George leaned into Nancy’s vanity mirror and fluffed out her short brown hair.

  “Okay, okay.” Nancy intervened. “Are you two ready? Our reservation’s for eight o’clock. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late.”

  Nancy pushed Bess and George out of her bedroom and down the stairs into the living room.

  “Hannah!” Nancy exclaimed. The Drews’ housekeeper, Hannah Gruen, had put on a red silk dress and a dash of lipstick.

  “It’s not often that I get to have dinner with a handsome man at River Heights’s best French restaurant,” Hannah said, smiling at the surprised looks on Nancy, Bess, and George’s faces.

  Nancy was about to tell Hannah how nice she looked when the phone rang. She stepped across the living room to answer it. “Hello?”

  Instead of a response, Nancy again heard the click of someone hanging up and then a dial tone. She slowly replaced the phone.

  “No one there?” George asked.

  Nancy shook her head. “It’s probably nothing.” She paused. “I just wonder—”

  “Wonder what, Nan?” Bess asked.

  Hannah Gruen looked questioningly at Bess and then at Nancy.

  “It’s nothing, Hannah,” Nancy confidently told her. “It’s just a crank call.”

  Hannah shrugged. “If you say so, Nancy. But maybe you’d better mention it to your father.”

  “It’s nothing to worry about, Hannah,” Bess said. “It happens all the time. About a month ago my mom was getting them, but in the end—”

  “Why don’t you tell us in the car on the way to the restaurant?” George interrupted. “I’d hate to keep Mr. Drew waiting.”

  Nancy smiled. George was better than anyone at distracting Bess and keeping her chatter to a minimum.

  The three friends and Hannah piled into Nancy’s Mustang for the short drive across town to Chez Louis.

  As she swung around the circular drive that fronted the cozy, cottage-style French restaurant, Nancy smiled to herself. Only her dad would think to treat all of them to dinner at one of the best restaurants in River Heights, she thought. She had been there several times before with Ned, holding hands while watching the sun set over the river.

  “Hey, Nancy, wake up.” Bess was outside the car, standing beside the driver’s window. “There’s a valet here who’s dying to park your Mustang. And I’m starving.”

  Nancy laughed and stepped out of her car. “I’m glad to hear it, Bess, because the food at Chez Louis is better than great,” she said, following Bess, George, and Hannah inside. There, the maître d’, Antoine, was waiting.

  “Bonsoir, ladies, good evening,” Antoine said, greeting them.

  “Bonsoir, Antoine,” Nancy answered.

  He led them across the restaurant to a table where her father was waiting. Carson Drew was River Heights’s most distinguished lawyer. Nancy was proud of her tall, handsome father.

  “Are these the four lovely women you were expecting?” Antoine asked with a twinkle in his eye.

  “And right on time.” Carson stood up and gave Nancy a kiss on the forehead. He smiled at Bess and George, then turned to Hannah. “You look terrific!”

  Hannah blushed as Antoine held out her chair. “Thank you,” she said, sitting down and unfolding her napkin.

  Nancy, Bess, and George took their seats around the circular table as Antoine handed them their menus.

  “I hope you’re all in the mood for a good dinner,” Carson said, “because this is the place for it.”

  While they were reading their menus, deciding what to order, Nancy took in the restaurant’s plush surroundings. A pleasant glow of candlelight made the elegant silverware set on starched white tablecloths shine. At the far end of the restaurant, where huge windows overlooked the river, couples carried on hushed conversations over their meals.

  With a smile Nancy returned her attention to the menu. “Well, I think I know what I want,” she said finally. “How about you, Bess?”

  Bess gave Nancy a confused look. “I’m not sure yet. There’s so much to choose from!”

  “You said it,” George replied. “And it all looks good. Look, they’ve even got frogs’ legs!”

  Carson laughed. “I know they sound strange, but actually they’re quite delicious.”

  Nancy half listened as her father told them about a trip to Paris he’d taken a few years earlier and the frogs’ legs he’d eaten there. Nancy’s thoughts wandered. She was trying to make some sense of the timing or frequency of the phone calls she’d been receiving. It was no use, though. She had drawn a blank.

  “Is everything okay, Nancy?” her father asked.

  “I can tell you’re still thinking about those phone calls, aren’t you?” Hannah said pointedly.

  George and Bess exchanged a look. “Let’s order,” George said. The waiter was standing beside their table now, smiling at them.

  “I’ll have the artichoke appetizer and the cassoulet,” Nancy told him.

  “Mussels and steak tartare for me,” George put in.

  Bess fumbled. “Um, vichyssoise and—an omelet.”

  “Good choice, Bess,” Carson said with a smile. He ordered for both Hannah and himself. “We’ll have the Caesar salad and steak au poivre, medium rare. How does that sound?”

  “Wonderful,” Hannah said. “I just couldn’t decide.”

  The waiter left. Carson turned to Nancy. “Now, what’s this about phone calls?” he asked.

  “I didn’t want to bother you, but we’ve been getting phone calls lately where the caller hangs up as soon as I answer. I got two more tonight just before we left the house.”

  “Actuall
y I did take a couple myself, but I didn’t realize there were a lot of them,” Carson said with a frown.

  George looked at her friend. “The solution is simple, Nan—go to the police tomorrow and ask them to trace the calls. Then they can stop whoever’s behind them.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, George,” Hannah said.

  “You’re right, Hannah,” Nancy said, brightening. “I’ll call Chief McGinnis first thing.”

  “I’m glad that’s solved,” Carson said, as the waiter brought over their appetizers. “I’m just as concerned as you are, Nancy, but I was looking forward to a night without mystery.” He winked at Bess and George.

  Nancy laughed. “You’re right, Dad. Now, why isn’t everybody eating?”

  • • •

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat for days,” Bess groaned as she dropped onto the sofa in the Drews’ living room.

  “I’m not surprised. You polished off everything, including dessert,” George teased.

  “I know. But I’m not going to feel guilty. You only live once, after all.”

  Hannah laughed. “You tell her, Bess.”

  “I think Antoine has a crush on you, Hannah,” Carson said with a smile. “He doesn’t kiss everyone’s hand, you know.”

  “Those French men are incredible,” George said, giggling. “Romance must be their middle name!”

  “I can’t wait to go back to Paris—” Bess began. The doorbell rang, interrupting her.

  “I’ll get it,” Hannah said, walking to the front door. “It’s awfully late for anyone to come to visit.”

  “A package for Carson Drew,” a young, blond-haired guy said after Hannah had opened the door.

  She looked quizzically at the young man. “Thanks,” she finally said, and took the envelope.

  “This is strange—a young man just brought this for you,” she said, handing the large manila envelope to Carson.

  Carson took it from her. “That is strange,” he said. “Who would send me something so late at night?”

  After he opened the envelope and took out the contents, Nancy watched as a confused look passed over her father’s face.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Carson showed the photograph that had been inside to Nancy.

  It was a shot of a well-dressed man, sitting behind a desk. The skyline of River Heights appeared in a window behind him.

  Nancy looked up at her father, puzzled. “What’s this all about?” she asked.

  “Probably some crank,” he answered slowly.

  Nancy took the photograph in her hands to study it more closely. With a shock, she noticed that someone had written in small block letters across the bottom of the picture.

  “You can’t pretend anymore, Carson Drew. Soon everyone in River Heights will know you hid the evidence that proved this man’s guilt!”

  Chapter

  Two

  QUESTIONS TUMBLED through Nancy’s head. Why would anyone accuse her father of such a thing? Who was the man in the photograph? Did her father know him? Judging from the look on her father’s face, Nancy could tell he was taking the threat seriously.

  “What does all this mean?” she asked finally, her voice calm and businesslike.

  Before her father could answer, Bess, George, and Hannah had joined them, and they were looking at the photograph now.

  “This is crazy,” Bess blurted out. “Who would accuse you of hiding evidence?” she asked.

  “Who is this guy, anyway?” George asked.

  “Hold on, everyone,” Carson said, raising a hand. “One at a time, please.”

  Carson sighed, then took another look at the photograph. “That man is Dennis Allard, and now he’s employed as a banker at River Heights Bank and Trust. Eight years ago he was accused of embezzlement. I defended him and he was found innocent.”

  “Whoever sent this photograph doesn’t think he was innocent,” Nancy pointed out.

  Carson had turned and was staring out the large window that faced the street. After a minute he continued to speak.

  “This sort of thing happens all the time,” he said. “But usually it’s judges who get harassed. I can’t remember the last time I heard of a lawyer having this kind of problem . . .” His voice trailed off as he stood there, his back to the room, his eyes fixed and staring.

  Nancy knew there was more to this threat than her father was letting on. Someone was making a serious accusation against him, and she would have to find out who and why.

  “Why don’t you tell us about the case?” she asked gently, leading him back to the sofa. “Maybe with the five of us, we can come up with some idea of who’s behind this.”

  Hannah came back into the living room, carrying a fresh pot of tea and sodas for the girls. “It looks like it’s going to be a long night,” she explained.

  “Thanks, Hannah,” Carson said, and indicated that everyone should sit. He cleared his throat and began. “Eight years ago Dennis Allard was accused of embezzling a huge amount of money from the clients of a large law firm here in River Heights.”

  “But he was innocent,” George said.

  “As far as I was concerned, he was,” Carson told her.

  “How was he supposedly embezzling?” Nancy asked. She had to have all the details.

  “It was pretty uncomplicated, actually, Nancy.” Carson paused. “The law firm where Allard worked, Mobley and Myerson, got complaints from some very important clients that they were being overcharged. When the firm investigated, they found out that someone in the accounting department had been sending out phony bills.”

  “The firm didn’t know that had been going on? How could that happen?” Nancy asked.

  “Good question.” Carson poured himself a mug of tea, stood up, and began pacing the living room. He held the mug in two hands. “That was exactly what I asked: How could anyone embezzle from the clients of a law firm without the firm knowing what was going on?”

  “It must have taken a lot of nerve to do that,” Bess said. “To try to embezzle under the noses of a group of lawyers would be impossible.”

  Carson sat down and loosened his tie. He continued. “Dennis Allard worked in the firm’s accounting department. His assistant was a man named Robert Gleason. When the firm discovered that their clients were being overbilled, they knew the embezzlers had to be in the accounting department.”

  “Dennis Allard,” Nancy said, simply.

  “Allard, yes—and Gleason, too,” Carson said. “The firm prosecuted both Allard and Gleason. I defended Allard, and an attorney named Edward Vaughn defended Gleason. Allard was acquitted, but Gleason was found guilty.”

  “Someone is obviously still bitter about it,” Hannah said. “But everyone deserves a fair trial, and that’s what you did for this man.” She pointed at the photograph that was lying on the coffee table. “That’s what’s important.”

  “Thank you, Hannah,” Carson said, smiling. “But someone seems to think I did something illegal.”

  “And we’re going to find out who it is,” Nancy said firmly. She tried to get them back on track. “What kind of evidence turned up at Allard’s trial?” she asked.

  “Nothing substantial,” Carson answered. “That’s why he was acquitted. In fact, as the evidence was shown, I became more and more convinced that Allard had to be innocent. There wasn’t anything concrete to make me think he was guilty.”

  “But that wasn’t true about Gleason? I mean, all the evidence must have pointed to him, right?” Nancy concluded.

  Carson smiled at his daughter. “Absolutely,” he said.

  “Why?” Nancy asked.

  George was leaning forward in her chair now. From the looks on their faces, Nancy knew that George and Bess felt a case brewing.

  “The prosecution found a document on the firm’s computer system. Obviously Gleason assumed no one would find it. The file showed how money was taken in from the firm’s clients.”

  “But how can tha
t one file prove who did it?” Bess asked.

  “Good point. It can’t. Except that only Gleason had access to that program,” Carson said. “Therefore he had to be involved.”

  Nancy bit on her lower lip, thinking. “What exactly was in that program, Dad?” she asked finally.

  “What I’d call concrete proof. It showed how, when, and in what amounts Gleason had taken the money.”

  “This is all so confusing,” Hannah said. “I just don’t understand computers. How could Gleason use this program without other people knowing it was there?”

  “Easy. If someone isn’t looking for a program, the odds are that it could go unnoticed for a long time,” Carson said.

  “Maybe if you explained the details, we’d understand this better,” Nancy said.

  Carson sighed. “After all these years I’m not sure I can piece it together, but I’ll try.” He paused. “Basically, Gleason set up a fake billing system. He took a client’s bill and padded it with expenses that he added to the original amount on the bill. Then he’d send the revised bill to a client.”

  “And when the check came back?” Bess asked.

  “The system wouldn’t work with actual checks. It depends on the direct transfer of money from one bank to another. There is no way he could cash a check made out to his firm. Therefore the firm’s clients transferred money from their accounts to the firm’s. Any money over the amount shown on the bill would be transferred to an account Gleason had set up,” Carson explained.

  Bess’s mouth fell open. “That’s incredibly sneaky. And pretty clever, too,” she added.

  There was something her father had said that didn’t make sense to Nancy. “How did Gleason manage to do this without Allard’s knowing?” she asked.

  “Good question,” Carson said. “At first, he didn’t do it with every client or in large amounts. But over the course of a year, he managed to collect quite a bit of money. But then he got greedy, and that was why he was caught.”

  “What about the money, Mr. Drew?” George asked.

  “Never found. We did find the bank it had been transferred to, but it was withdrawn from that account the day before the indictments were handed down. Gleason’s signature was on the check.”