Circle of Evil

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy agreed, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop worrying. To have her father threatened was frightening. She was glad he was going to be out of town, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen when he came back.

  As Nancy was pacing restlessly around the kitchen, going over everything she had discovered so far and not coming up with anything new, Hannah Gruen, the Drews’ housekeeper, came in.

  “You look like a cat stalking a bird,” Hannah remarked.

  Nancy laughed. Hannah had been with the Drews for fifteen years, and she knew Nancy’s moods better than anyone. “I am stalking a bird,” Nancy said. “More than one, I think. The problem is, I can’t decide which one to go after.”

  “It’s this new case, isn’t it?” Hannah asked.

  Nancy nodded, deciding not to mention the threat to her father. There was no sense in having Hannah lose sleep over it, too. Not yet, anyway. “I’m on the right track,” she said. “But I don’t have any concrete theories or clues. It’s beginning to get pretty frustrating.”

  “Well, do you think wearing a path in the kitchen floor will help?” Hannah asked. Nancy glanced down sheepishly. “Why don’t you play some music or do something to relax?”

  “I guess I’ll have to,” Nancy said. Then she realized that she was still wearing the same sweaty shorts and shirt she had worked out in, and her hair was tangled and matted. “But first, I think I’ll shower and change. It might not help me solve the case, but at least I’ll feel human again.”

  “By the way,” Hannah said as Nancy started to leave, “I’m going to a meeting at the library in a little while, so I won’t be here for dinner. And since your father won’t be here, either, it’s leftovers for you.”

  “Fine,” Nancy said, knowing she wouldn’t be hungry, anyway. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

  After a shower, Nancy dried her hair, put on a flowered cotton skirt and a white tank top, and pushed a rock tape into her tape deck. Bess and George might be home by then, she decided, and she wanted to find out if they had learned anything.

  “Absolutely nothing,” Bess reported when Nancy called. “It was exactly the same as yesterday, except there weren’t as many golfers because it was so hot. The only difference was that one of the caddies was even more friendly to me than he had been yesterday.” Bess giggled. “I was pretty friendly to him, too, which wasn’t hard because he is so gorgeous!”

  “Did you find out where any of them were last night?”

  “Three of them talked about nothing but last night’s baseball game, and they said they watched it at one of their houses,” Bess said. “Of course, I suppose they could have been lying, but they discussed every hit and strike as though they’d been sitting in the stands.”

  “What about the other two?” Nancy asked.

  “One said he was sick, and, believe me, he was croaking like a frog,” Bess told her. “And Tom—he’s the gorgeous one—well, he and I were talking on the phone for almost an hour. And that was at the time you were out getting soaked.”

  Nancy felt relieved. If Bess was right, then there were five people she didn’t have to follow. “Okay, thanks,” she said. “I’m going to call George now and see if she’s got any leads.”

  “George has a date,” Bess told her. “With her handsome tennis teacher. But she told me to tell you that he didn’t act any differently today, either. She didn’t find out what he was up to last night, but she’s going to try to find out tonight.”

  “Good.” For George’s sake, Nancy hoped that the tennis instructor had a perfect alibi.

  After she hung up, Nancy felt hungry and looked for something to eat. She found half a roast chicken and salad makings in the refrigerator, but it wasn’t what she wanted. Remembering the cheeseburger and fries she hadn’t eaten the night before, she called Ned and suggested they go out. Half an hour later, the two of them were sitting in a booth at the Burger Barn.

  Nancy bit into a crisp fry and smiled. “If I didn’t have this case on my back, I’d be perfectly happy right now.”

  “Nothing new to report?” Ned asked.

  “A little,” Nancy said, telling him about her chase after Cindy. “I’d really like to talk to that girl. She’s the only one I’ve seen who even acts suspiciously. She could have put the note in my locker. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t others in on it, too. Oh, Ned, I don’t know. I really can’t rule anyone out yet.”

  Ned smiled. “So what’s your next step, Detective?”

  “I guess I’m going to have to put their names into a hat, pick one, and follow that person after he or she leaves the club.” Nancy laughed. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

  “I don’t think another stakeout would work, not at the Winslows’ anyway,” Ned said. “I have a feeling Detective Ryan has that covered. And I’m not so sure following these people is such a good idea.”

  “But I don’t know what else to do,” Nancy said, arguing. “I can’t keep hanging out at the club—watching. They don’t even do their dirty work there.”

  “They do part of it there,” Ned reminded her. “They get all their information at the club. Plus, I just thought of something. The club would make a great place to hide stuff. It’s got hundreds of lockers. And who knows? One of them might be filled with stolen goods instead of soggy towels.”

  “I didn’t think of that.” Nancy swallowed the last bite of her cheeseburger and grinned. “Did you ever consider becoming a detective?”

  “Why bother?” Ned said with a laugh. “I’ve got you, remember?”

  • • •

  As Ned drove Nancy home, the two of them joked and laughed and talked about everything but the case. It felt good, Nancy thought, to forget about it for a little while. She decided to try not to think about it the whole night. Maybe all the clues would fall into place in the morning.

  “Did I tell you how great you look tonight?” Ned asked as they got out of the car and walked to Nancy’s house.

  Nancy shook her head, smiling. “If you did, I didn’t hear it. Go ahead, tell me again.”

  “You do look great,” Ned said softly, reaching out and pulling her closer.

  They were on the front porch then, and just as Ned was about to kiss her, Nancy pulled away, staring over his shoulder.

  “What is it?” Ned asked.

  “The door,” Nancy said, pointing. “It’s partly open. And I remember locking it when I left.”

  “Maybe Hannah’s home,” Ned suggested, “and she just didn’t shut it all the way.”

  Checking her watch, Nancy shook her head. “It’s too early. And, anyway, if she were home, she’d have turned on the porch light.”

  Slowly, Nancy pushed the door open and stepped inside. She was sure Hannah wasn’t there, but just in case, she called her name, three times. There was no answer.

  Behind her, Ned said quietly, “I’ll check the kitchen.” Nancy heard his footsteps as he cautiously made his way into that room. She continued walking slowly through the house, peering into one room after the other. They were all empty, and nothing even looked disturbed.

  Maybe I just didn’t pull the front door closed tightly enough, she thought, trying to remember. It had never happened before, but there was always a first time.

  Nancy was just starting to relax when she reached her father’s room. One look, and her heart started pounding again. The door was closed. Carson Drew never shut it except when he was changing his clothes.

  Her mouth dry, Nancy quietly put her hand on the doorknob, counted to three, and threw the door wide open.

  A curtain billowed as the door opened, but nothing else moved. Slowly scanning the room, Nancy saw that the bed was made, the closet door was closed, the drawers were shut. Then her eyes moved up to the ceiling. There, dangling from the light fixture, was one of her father’s neckties—made into a noose! Attached to it was a note scrawled in greasy bloodred lipstick:

  Your dad might be gone now, but he has to return sometime. We’
ll be waiting. Get off the case, Nancy Drew!

  Chapter

  Eleven

  STARING AT THE ugly message, Ned whistled softly. “Don’t you think it’s about time to call the police, Nancy?”

  Nancy shook her head. “If it was anybody but Detective Ryan, I’d say yes. But he’d tell me it was all my own fault for messing around in police business.”

  “But if you tell him why it happened—because you’re getting too close to the robbers—then he’d have to listen,” Ned said.

  “Maybe,” she said. “But if he brings the police in and lets them swarm all over the country club, I guarantee there won’t be another robbery in River Heights—at least not by these people. I haven’t scared them off because they know I’m working alone and they think they can scare me off. But they wouldn’t bother to threaten a whole police force. They’d just lie low until the whole thing blew over.

  “Let’s get this picked up before Hannah comes home,” Nancy said. “If she sees this, she’ll freak. I don’t want her worrying about it until she has to. This just fries me,” she said. “I know they’re trying to scare me, and they have. But they’re also making me very angry.”

  After Ned had left, Nancy forced herself to calm down so Hannah wouldn’t notice that anything was wrong and ask questions. In her room, she turned on the TV, then snapped it off, put a tape in the deck, then immediately took it out. When Hannah came home, Nancy told her that she wanted some fresh air. She got in her car and went for a drive.

  Nancy automatically turned toward the club. She didn’t know what she was going to do there, but maybe she’d be able to get inside and explore—look in the lockers as Ned had suggested.

  As Nancy was driving down the tree-lined entry drive toward the clubhouse, she thought of something that startled her. Her house hadn’t been broken into. The door was just ajar, but it hadn’t been jimmied, and neither had any of the windows. She was positive now that she had locked the door, so the only way anyone could have gotten in was with a key.

  Nancy took her foot off the gas and let the car coast to a stop. She needed a minute to think it through. If the thief had used a key to get into her house, then maybe he had had keys for the other houses. But how?

  Sitting in the car, Nancy went over her day—what she’d done and where she’d been. She had had her keys in her canvas bag, and the bag was with her the whole time.

  Except, she remembered, when she had been in the weight room and when she had been having her massage. The bag had been in a locker then. Could someone have taken the key, made a copy, and put it back? Easy! After all, someone had put the note in her bag. Could it have been Cindy? Cindy certainly knew her way around the club.

  Nancy thought of Rita, too. Could she have done it? Rita had never left the room. But Nancy remembered suddenly that she had made a short phone call.

  What had she said? Something about being too busy to make it that night. Nancy thought she must have been canceling a date or something, and maybe she was. But maybe it was some kind of signal to let a partner know that Nancy’s key was in a locker, there for the taking. Who could the partner be?

  Nancy slowly backed her car up and out onto the main road. She drove about half a block until she came to a place where she could park so it would be half-hidden by trees. Then she walked through the grounds to the clubhouse. She decided it had been foolish to alert anyone that she was there by going up the driveway.

  The clubhouse was dark and appeared to be locked up tight. But Nancy got lucky and found one open door. There were two choices: someone had forgotten to lock it, or someone was inside. Cautiously, she pushed the door open and stepped into the cool, dark silence.

  Once inside, Nancy slipped off her sandals. She wished she weren’t wearing a white top—it stood out like a neon light—but there was nothing she could do about it then. Taking a deep breath, she moved deeper into the building. Except for the occasional spill of moonlight slanting in from the windows, the club was night-dark. The silence was broken only by the faint ticking of a distant clock.

  Bypassing the lounge, Nancy headed for the stairs that led to the locker rooms. She wanted to check out the locker she’d left her bag in to see how someone could have gotten in, left her that message, and taken her key.

  There were a couple of yellow light bulbs burning downstairs, and they washed the hall in a sickly mustard glow. Walking soundlessly on the cool tiles, Nancy passed the locked women’s massage room, the boiler room, and then turned into the locker room.

  Using the weak glow from another yellow bulb, Nancy managed to find the locker she had used earlier. The key was in it, the same key she’d locked it with and kept in the pocket of her shorts. Most of the other lockers had keys in them, too.

  That had to be it—the keys were interchangeable. Nancy took one out and tried it on another locker. No—it didn’t work. Somebody must have used a key to get into the locker, though. Women went in and out of the room all day, and she couldn’t imagine anyone taking the time to actually break into a locker. It was just too risky. Duplicate keys—

  A faint sound. A bare foot on the tiles? Nancy froze and strained to hear it again. Holding her breath, she waited. She heard a car horn in the distance and the buzz of an airplane, and finally she distinguished the thudding of her heart. Then the noise came again, and Nancy whirled around—her hands were up, ready.

  But the locker room remained empty. No one was looming in the doorway; no one was lurking in the shadows by the sinks.

  Then Nancy almost laughed. The light was dim, but she saw it—a shining drop of water hanging from one of the faucets, ready to fall. When it did, she heard the gentle plop and realized she had been frightened by a slow drip from a faucet.

  Her breathing returned to normal again. Nancy turned back to the lockers, thinking through her theory. The robber or robbers learn when a wealthy person will be away. Then they steal the person’s house key from a locker room and have a duplicate made. But where do they copy the key? she wondered. They’d have to do it in the clubhouse; they wouldn’t have time to take it away. And what about alarms at the houses? How could they break in without setting them off?

  The faucet dripped again, an incredibly loud sound for such a small drop of water, and Nancy jumped again. Deciding she had had enough of the locker room, she stepped out into the still hallway. As she started toward the stairs, she noticed that the weight room door was open. As long as she was there, she decided, she might as well check it out, too.

  Except for the spill of light from the hall bulbs, the weight room was all in shadow. The equipment, especially the big new weight-training machine, looked like monsters designed by a science-fiction writer.

  Nancy walked into the middle of the room and realized that without a flashlight she wouldn’t be able to detect much. Deciding to check out the room the next day, she turned to leave but paused by the new machine when she heard a noise that made her heart miss a beat. It wasn’t water this time. It was a creaking sound with a faint jingling for accompaniment. The second sound was like the rattling of keys.

  You’ve got keys on your mind, she told herself. As she took another step, the creaking-jingling sounded again. Nancy stopped and caught sight of the weight-training machine’s shadow thrown high against the wall. The heavy piece of equipment was rocking slowly back and forth. But not by itself. Another shadow was next to it—the shadow of a person, both hands gripping the equipment, making the machine rock faster and faster. And as Nancy stood there, she realized that the machine was about to topple—straight onto her.

  Chapter

  Twelve

  THERE WAS NO time to wonder who was pushing the machine. There was almost no time to move. But Nancy did, leaping sideways, trying to throw herself out of the path of that lethal piece of equipment. She had no idea how much it weighed, but she did know that if it hit her, she could be killed.

  With a thud, Nancy hit the hard floor, her shoulder and head skidding on the rough, scratchy
carpet. At the same moment, the state-of-the-art workout equipment crashed. It bounced once, crashed again, and then rocked back and forth more and more slowly. Finally, with a creak and a clank, it stopped.

  Slowly, Nancy opened her eyes and looked. Less than five inches lay between the tip of her nose and the top of the heavy equipment. If she hadn’t seen the shadows on the wall, she’d have been pinned to the floor right then, beneath hundreds of pounds of bone-crushing equipment.

  Nancy was just sitting up when she heard the door to the weight room slam and the echo of feet padding quickly down the hall. The contents of the room became obscure without the light from the hall. Knowing she couldn’t possibly follow in time, Nancy closed her eyes and fell back on the dusty carpet.

  No one could have known I was coming here tonight, she told herself. But somebody saw me, and the minute he did, I almost got caught.

  Disgusted with herself for not being quieter and more careful, Nancy rolled quickly away from the workout equipment and started to get to her knees. That was when she noticed a narrow door in the wall next to her. Probably some kind of storage place, she thought. But then she remembered that the storage closet was on the opposite wall.

  Nancy tested the metal handle. Locked, naturally. She knew she should get out of there and go home, but she couldn’t stop wondering about what was behind that door. A set of duplicate keys for all the lockers, maybe? Or, better yet, a diamond and ruby necklace, a Picasso painting, a rare book, and all the other things that had been stolen?

  After she opened the door to the hallway, she could see better. She rummaged in her large straw handbag for her lock-picking kit. She wished she could turn on a light, but she didn’t dare risk it. Moving the small picks in the lock, she turned the tumblers by feel and sound.

  A few minutes later, Nancy was staring at two packages of light bulbs, a small pile of rags, and, behind these, a void. Not much of a storage closet, she thought. She pushed the bulbs and rags aside and stepped in, stretching her hands out in front of her. She expected to be stopped by a back wall, but instead she continued to feel only air. She kept going, sure that she’d hit a wall any second—but nothing. She was in a long, narrow passageway.