027 Most Likely to Die, Page 2

  "I think I'll hang out and man the grill when the starter fluid gets here," Ned answered. "I've gotten a lot better at it, you know." Bess and Nancy both grinned. They could both remember a time when Ned's barbecuing skills had consisted mainly of torching the main course.

  "By the time you're finished with your swim, I'll have a perfect hamburger all ready for you," Ned continued.

  "Well, watch out!" Nancy warned him. "We don't want you catching on fire, too."

  "Don't worry," said Patrick. "I'll be standing right beside him to make sure he doesn't do anything wrong."

  "Try not to burn the burgers," Bess called back over her shoulder.

  "You have no faith," Ned answered.

  "It has nothing to do with faith—Fve eaten your hamburgers," said Bess, and she ran for the house.

  "Why'd you poke me earlier, Nancy?" Bess whispered as they stopped before entering the house. "Why didn't you want Patrick to know there was gasoline in that container?"

  Nancy explained. "Fm sure—or Fm hoping, anyway—that there was just some kind of mistake. No sense getting Patrick upset .when we can't prove anything. Can you believe this house?" she added, changing the subject. "They certainly are prepared for parties!"

  Bess and she had entered a huge dressing room on the first floor. A mirror—complete with makeup lights—covered one entire wall. There was a mahogany wardrobe filled with brass clothes hangers against another wall, and a blue-flowered chintz chaise longue stood ready for any guest who might feel like lying down. On a table under the window was a huge stack of fluffy beach towels, and next to them were all kinds of suntan lotions and sunscreens.

  "It's better than a hotel," Bess agreed. Then she lowered her voice. "I only wish Wendy was being a little—a little nicer. Every time she's passed me she's said something catty! I thought people were supposed to get sweeter once they graduated from high school."

  "I couldn't agree with you more," said someone behind them.

  Nancy and Bess wheeled around—and there was Celia Quaid.

  "Celia!" said Bess. "Uh, hi! Did you—urn-have you been in here long?"

  "I heard everything you said about Wendy, if that's what you mean," said Celia. She strolled calmly over to the mirror and began brushing her hair.

  "Shhhhh!" said Bess frantically. "Please forget I said that. It was so rude of me—and in Wendy's house, too. I didn't really mean it."

  "Don't worry," said Celia. "I won't say anything. People like that always end up getting what they deserve, anyway." Without a backward glance at either Nancy or Bess, she put her brush back into her beach bag and walked out of the room.

  Bess sighed. "Open mouth, insert foot. You ready for that swim now? I need to cool off my red face."

  Nancy tightened the ties on her bikini and picked up a towel. "Let's go," she said.

  People were streaming in and out of the house. Nancy and Bess threaded their way through the crowd and headed down the lawn to the lake.

  "Hi, George!" Nancy called happily when she saw George's head bob up next to the dock.

  Then her heart sank. Don Cameron was out there, too. He spotted her right away and came splashing out of the water toward her.

  "The water's fantastic!" he said. "Come on in!"

  Nancy glanced around for Bess—but Bess had melted out of sight. Oh, no! Nancy thought. This is one time I need a chaperon!

  "I'm afraid I won't be much fun, Don," she said quietly. "I just want to do a few laps before I help Ned with the food."

  "I see," said Don. Then there was an awkward pause. "I guess I'll go in and change, then," he said.

  The water was fantastic, but Nancy wasn't in the mood to appreciate it anymore. She just slowly swam up to George. "I guess Don doesn't feel like being ignored," she said bleakly.

  George smiled sympathetically. "There was no way I could head him off," she said. "I tried, believe me."

  "Well, you and Bess did a great job of distracting him earlier. Oh, well, after tonight I won't have to see him anymore."

  "That's right. I'll race you to the dock!" George suddenly shouted, and she plunged forward into the water.

  After a few minutes of hard swimming, Nancy felt better. She emerged from the lake feeling much more cheerful than when she had gone in.

  "Nancy! George! Come here and look at these when you've changed!" Bess called. "Someone brought a bunch of old yearbooks!"

  The two girls rushed in to change, then grabbed hamburgers from the tray and hurried over to a bunch of kids sitting on the side lawn. "Look, this one's from ninth grade. Can you believe my hair back then?" squealed Bess.

  "Look at George, too," Wendy said. "What a bean pole you were, George."

  "I sure was," George agreed amiably. "Not you, though, Wendy. Even back then you looked like the perfect cheerleader."

  Wendy darted a suspicious glance at George, but George was staring innocently back at her.

  "You look pretty much the same as you did when you were a freshman, Nancy," Wendy said quickly.

  "Yes," Ned agreed. "I would have gone out with you back then if I'd known you."

  "That's good to hear," Nancy said, gazing fondly at him. "I remember that necklace, Wendy," she added, pointing to another picture. "I always loved it. Do you still have it?"

  "What do you mean? I'm wearing it—" Wendy stopped. "I mean, I was wearing it. I put it on just before the party. Or did I?" She looked puzzled. "Maybe I meant to put it on and left it in my room. I'd better go check." She hurried back to the house.

  "These hamburgers are great, Ned. I apologize for my rude crack," Bess said around a mouthful of rare meat and bun.

  "Thanks. Patrick and I—*

  He never finished. There was a sudden terrified scream from the house, and Wendy's sheet-white face appeared at an upstairs window.

  "Somebody come up here!" she called. "My— my room. It's—"

  Nancy was already tearing toward the house, Ned, Bess, and George trailing her.

  They raced up the stairs—and stopped in the doorway to Wendy's room, shocked by the scene before them.

  Wendy's room had been completely trashed. All her bureau drawers had been pulled out and their contents dumped on the floor. Her jewelry box lay on the floor, too, empty except for a few trinkets. Her makeup and perfume had been smeared all over her dressing table, and her mirror was cracked all the way across.

  But that wasn't why Wendy was screaming.

  On her bed lay a doll—a doll dressed in a cheerleader's costume, with a large butcher knife through its chest.

  The knife was pinning down a piece of paper.

  Nancy stepped forward and pulled the knife out so she could read the message.

  It was made up from letters cut out of newspaper headlines. Nancy read out loud, "'Greetings to the most self-centered brat at River Heights High. Wish this doll were you!'"

  Chapter Three

  "All right. Wendy, you're going to be fine. Nancy said soothingly for what seemed like the hundredth time. 'The police are on their way. In fact, I think I hear them now." She peered out through Wendy's window. "Here they are."

  They're up there, office aroe the sound of Patrick's voice on the stairs. In a second his anxious d into Wendy's room.

  "Wendy, here are Officer Risdale"—he gestured toward the younger of the two men—"and Officer Marsh. Are you feeling bet::

  His question only triggered a new flood of tears. "I'm okay, but what about my stuff?" Wendy wailed. "What are my parents going to say when I tell them everything's gone?"

  "They'll know it wasn't your fault," Nancy said, reassuring her. She smiled at the two officers, who were standing awkwardly in the doorway. "I'm Nancy Drew," she said, "and this is Wendy Harriman." Quickly she told them what had happened.

  "What exactly has been taken?" Officer Risdale asked.

  "My—my cassette player." Wendy's voice quavered. "And my miniature watch-TV that my father gave me last Christmas, and just about all of my jewelry. There was a diamond br
acelet that belonged to my grandmother—" Her eyes filled with tears again. "I spent most of the summer out here, so I wanted my stuff with me. Why didn't I leave it back in River Heights?"

  "Has anyone at the party had the chance to get up here?" said Risdale.

  Wendy looked bewildered. "Everyone, I guess. I mean, people changed into their suits in the house, and there were lots of kids going into the kitchen. There've been people in and out the whole time the party's been going on."

  "I'd hope that this was done by a guest at the party," put in Officer Marsh. "But we just have to check every possibility. I wonder if you could wait outside for a few minutes so we can go through things here? We'll be down in a little while."

  Wendy moved obediently to the door. Nancy lagged behind. "You should know about one other thing that happened here earlier," she began. "When we were getting ready to barbecue—"

  "Please wait downstairs with the others, miss," said Officer Marsh firmly. "We'll be just a few minutes."

  Nancy stifled a sigh of frustration before following Wendy downstairs.

  Risdale and Marsh came down very soon after that—too soon, Nancy thought, for them to have investigated the room thoroughly.

  Wendy jumped to her feet when she saw them. "Who did it? Do you know?" she asked eagerly.

  Officer Risdale gave her a patient smile. "Fm afraid not. It does look like a clear case of breaking and entering, though. We'll try to recover the stolen items, but I can't promise anything."

  "Breaking and entering?" Nancy asked incredulously. "What kind of evidence do you have?"

  Risdale obviously hadn't heard of Nancy, and he spoke to her as if she were a child. "There are marks on the ground outside the window that look like they were made by a ladder. The window appears to have been forced from the outside, and there are traces of makeup on the windowsill. We can't tell for sure without analyzing them, but there's no reason not to think they're from one of the spilled bottles on the dressing table. There are no traces of makeup or powder leading out of the room. The perpetrator probably exited through the window also. Now, if there are no further questions, young lady, we'll be on our way." He said it as a slight rebuke to Nancy.

  "But what about the doll and the note?" she asked, ignoring the man's attitude. "Doesn't that point to someone at the party having committed the burglary?"

  "There's not necessarily any connection," said Officer Marsh. "It's probably not relevant to the burglary."

  "But what about the charcoal starter fluid?" Nancy filled the men in on what had happened to Patrick earlier.

  Officer Marsh didn't seem impressed. "Possibly someone put gasoline into an empty starter bottle to kill poison ivy. We see that kind of thing all the time out here."

  "We don't have any poison ivy at this house!" Wendy protested hotly.

  "You'd be surprised," said Officer Marsh. "It's all over the place. Look, we'll be in touch. Where are your parents, by the way?"

  "Back in River Heights," said Wendy.

  "Well, why don't you have them give us a call tomorrow? And, as I said, we'll be in touch as soon as possible."

  "They treated me as though I was about two years old!" Wendy burst out as soon as the police car was out of sight.

  "They were patronizing," Nancy said. "Look, Wendy, if you don't mind, I'd like to do a little investigating myself. I just don't think this robbery was an outside job."

  "I'd feel much better knowing you were working on the case, too," said Wendy. "You might as well start tonight," she added ruefully. "It looks as though the party's over. So much for school spirit."

  Nancy looked around. It was true. What had just happened had managed to derail the party pretty thoroughly. Most of the guests were standing around in awkward little groups, and some of them were starting to drift off to their cars. i "Well, there's still time to talk to a few people, at least," Nancy said. "Bess, George, why don't you sort of hang out around the cars. Look in them to see if you notice anything weird stashed inside. It's hard to believe anyone would be dumb enough to hide stolen goods right here, but we'd better check everything we can."

  "What do you want me to do?" Wendy asked.

  Nancy smiled. "Just go back to being hostess. I'll tell you about anything I turn up."

  Not that I'm likely to turn anything up, she said to herself a little later. No one she'd talked to had noticed anything odd going on.

  Nancy asked Ned to check out the ground under Wendy's window and the ladder. Ned found a ladder in the gardening shed, but he couldn't tell if it had been used for the robbery. It was tall enough to reach the window, but there was no dirt on the legs, no sign that it had been used.

  While he was occupied Nancy talked to the guests, and she did learn something interesting from Monica Beckwith.

  "I don't want to seem like a tattletale," Monica had said conspiratorially. "And this may not have anything to do with anything. But back in school, Wendy once caught Celia Quaid putting a poison-pen note into her locker. I don't remember exactly what the note said, but I do remember that it was sort of like the one in Wendy's room tonight."

  "I wonder why Wendy didn't mention that to me," said Nancy thoughtfully.

  "Maybe she was embarrassed to," Monica said. "She really laced into Celia when she caught her. It was kind of awful to watch. By the time she was done with her, Celia was sobbing. She

  didn't come to school for about a week after that—I know because she was in my homeroom."

  "I guess I'd better talk to Celia," said Nancy. "Do you know where she is?"

  "Gone," said Monica. "She left a while ago— just about the time the police got here."

  That certainly didn't look innocent. And Nancy was remembering Celia's strange remark in the dressing room. "People like that usually get what they deserve," she'd said. #ad Celia made sure Wendy would get what she deserved?

  One thing was sure. Wendy wasn't always the bouncy, sweet girl she tried to be. It looked as though she had had a few enemies—and Celia had definitely been one of them.

  Well, my brand-new number one suspect isn't around for questioning, Nancy thought. I might as well go home, too. It's getting late, and we have a long drive ahead of us. The next morning will be soon enough to start the investigation properly.

  "Thanks for telling me this, Monica," she said. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to anyone else."

  "No problem," Monica answered.

  Nancy went to round up Bess and George, who reported that they hadn't found anything suspicious. Then she found Ned and said goodbye to Wendy.

  "What did you find out?" Wendy asked.

  "Not much, really," said Nancy cautiously. "Just odds and ends." She didn't want to make Wendy suspicious of Celia without more facts to go on. "I'll call you tomorrow," she promised. "And in the meantime, don't touch anything in your room. I'll check it out better tomorrow."

  As Nancy, Ned, Bess, and George were walking toward the car, Bess suddenly stopped. "Our suits!" she said. "We left them inside! Let's go get them, George."

  "I'd better make sure the fire in the grill's really out," said Ned. "I was the last person using it."

  Ned's car was parked off to the left—standing alone now. Nancy was moving down a moonlit path toward it when Don Cameron suddenly loomed out of the shadows in front of her.

  "Don! You scared me!" Nancy exclaimed.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to catch you alone. I'd really like to talk to you, Nancy. Can I give you a lift home?"

  How many times do I have to explain this? Nancy wondered. Aloud she said, "Thanks, Don, but Ned is driving me."

  "Oh. I should have figured. Well—what I wanted to say is—stay away from this case, Nancy. You might get in over your head."

  For a second Nancy was so startled she couldn't answer. Was Don threatening her? It certainly sounded that way. But if he'd been the

  one who broke into Wendy's room, why would he drop hints about it?

  "Don't worry about me
, Don," Nancy finally managed to say.

  "I can't help it. Anyone who'd do something like that to a doll is sick. I don't think you should get involved."

  "Look, Don, I appreciate your being worried about me"—even though I wish you'd stop, she added to herself—"but I can handle it. Really."

  Don took a step closer. "Nancy, don't you see that I'm trying to tell you—"

  "Tell her what, Don?"

  "Ned!" Nancy gasped. Ned was standing right in back of Don, and he wasn't smiling. "Don's been trying to give me some advice about the case."

  "Don't worry, Ned," said Don with a mirthless laugh. "She won't listen to me, anyway. Good night, Nancy—Ned." And he walked off into the heavy darkness under some trees.

  "He just came out of nowhere," Nancy said, explaining to Ned.

  Ned gave her a quick hug. "He's still hung up on you—and I can't blame him. I'm just glad we're not in high school anymore. I'd hate to think of you running into him every day," he said, his arm around her waist as they made their way to his car.

  "That's exactly how I feel," said Nancy. "Here come Bess and George." She reached out and opened the car door on her side.

  What was that strange buzzing sound? She poked her head in the car. And what was that white mass on the driver's seat? Puzzled, Nancy leaned in farther to see.

  Then she screamed—which was her mistake. The object was a hornet's nest, and Nancy had woken the insects up. Before she could slam the car door, they poured out of the nest straight at her. In another second she'd be covered with welts from head to toe!

  Chapter Four

  "Ned! get back!" Nancy shouted, scrambling over the hood of Ned's car and grabbing his hand. The two of them dashed toward Bess and George and stopped about thirty feet from the car.

  When Nancy and Ned turned, they saw that the hornets were still swarming out of the open car door. But once they had been evicted from their hive and were out in the air, the insects seemed to lose their sense of purpose and flew off in all directions. Soon there were only a few tired-looking creatures crawling slowly over the surface of the car.