Dr. Stone smiled and nodded. “That’s very sweet of you to say, Nancy,” she said. But something in her eyes told me she wasn’t completely convinced.
The elevator doors opened, and the professor and I walked down the hall to find Bash’s room. “Ah, here we are,” Dr. Stone said, and we walked slowly through the open door. There, surrounded by greeting cards, balloons, and flowers, was Bash.
He was dressed in a blue hospital gown and sitting up in his bed, his black, curly hair mussed from sleep, reading what looked like a heavy textbook. “Studying already?” Dr. Stone said with a chuckle.
Bash looked up from his book, and his eyes lit up at the sight of us. “Dr. Stone!” he exclaimed. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”
“Likewise, dear boy,” Dr. Stone replied. “I was worried there for a while, but I knew you’d pull through this all right in the end.”
“Hi, Nancy,” Bash said, remarkably remembering my name. “So, what did I miss?”
Dr. Stone and I eyed each other. I blew out my cheeks and said, “A lot, actually.” And with that, I began to regale him with the long tale of Dr. Brown’s repeated attempts to put Dr. Stone out of commission. Bash’s eyes grew larger with every passing minute, and halfway through the story, Iris arrived in the room with an embarrassingly large heart-shaped box of chocolates and began adding her own two cents to the account.
“And that’s when we broke into the security office in the mansion!” Iris announced.
“You did what?” Dr. Stone asked, her arms akimbo.
Iris made an oops face. “It’s fine, really!” she reassured the professor. “It was all for a good cause! No files were harmed in the solving of this mystery!”
Dr. Stone humphed but let it go. By the time we finished the story, Bash was positively astounded. “Wow,” he whispered. “Dr. Brown. I never would have thought he’d be capable of all those awful things! He always seemed like such a cool guy.”
Dr. Stone looked somber. “Sebastian, I’m so sorry that your greatest mentor ended up disappointing you like this. I know that I would feel terrible if someone were to betray my trust like that.”
Bash looked confused. “My greatest mentor? What do you mean?”
Now it was Dr. Stone’s turn to look confused. “In the speech you made, the night of the gala—you were talking about your greatest mentor right before you fell off the balcony.”
“Yes,” Bash said slowly. “But I wasn’t talking about Dr. Brown. Don’t you remember? I never got to actually say who it was.” He smiled. “I was talking about you.”
Dr. Stone blinked. She stumbled back a step and laid a palm on her chest. “You . . . you were?”
Bash chuckled. “Of course! Why do you think I always stayed late after every one of your classes? Always came to see you during your office hours?”
“I—I just thought you were a diligent student, concerned for your grades . . . ,” Dr. Stone stammered.
“Nah, I don’t care so much about grades,” Bash said with a shrug. “You’re one of the only professors who doesn’t just want to make me memorize facts and dates and theories. You make me think. Really think! About the meaning of life, the secrets of the universe—everything. That’s why I want to know what you know. So I can be like you.”
Dr. Stone’s eyes were watery as she listened to Bash’s words, and when he was done, she whispered, “Thank you,” and patted him on the hand. She was quiet, but I could see that the sparkle had returned to her eyes.
“Well, it’s been a great visit, everyone,” I said. “But I think it’s time for me to get back to River Heights. My dad probably thinks I’m never coming back!”
After giving Bash a hug and telling him to keep in touch, I turned to Dr. Stone to say good-bye. “You know,” she told me, “I never properly thanked you for everything you’ve done. Even after I practically threw you out of my office, you put aside your own personal safety to come to my rescue.” She rummaged in her purse, pulled out a cloth bag, and placed it in my hand. “I can never truly repay you for your kindness, Nancy, but I wanted to give you this small token of my appreciation. Something I picked up many years ago when I was studying in Athens.”
I tugged open the strings of the bag and pulled out a small pewter statue of a woman clad in long robes, holding a hand mirror aloft in one hand. Across the base of the statue, a single word was engraved ALETHEIA. I looked back at Dr. Stone, a question in my eyes.
“Aletheia is the goddess of truth,” she said. “For a young woman whose life seems to be steeped in a never-ending quest for truth, I thought she would make quite a fitting gift.”
I clasped my fingers around the figurine and smiled. “It’s perfect,” I told her, and slipped it into a special little pocket in my bag.
“I’ll walk you out,” said Iris, throwing her arm around my shoulders. We strolled together out of the hospital room, stopping at the elevator bank to exchange hugs and promises to call and write. “Oh!” she said with a start. “I almost forgot! I’ve got a little something for you too.” She reached into her Mary Poppins hold-all purse and pulled out a piece of soft brown fabric in a houndstooth pattern. “It’s an eternity scarf,” Iris told me, looping it stylishly around my neck. “Perfect for fall. I finished it in sewing and needlecraft yesterday. With a special little accent for my favorite detective.” She pulled out one section of the scarf to expose a small metal pin—made with a wire, beads, and a little disc of glass.
“A magnifying glass!” I exclaimed. “Oh, Iris, I love it!”
“Wear it in good health, Sherlock,” she said, giving me one last breathtaking squeeze. “And the next time you’re chasing some baddie down a deserted street in the middle of the night—do me a favor.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Wear sneakers!”
Dear Diary,
* * *
* * *
* * *
IT SURE IS GOOD TO be home! I just spent the entire afternoon hanging out with George and Bess, and they demanded I tell them everything. It took quite a while, but they got the whole crazy story. I’m so glad that everything with Bash and Dr. Stone turned out all right—I have a feeling that the classics department is in very good hands. I also got to show off my fancy new sleuthing scarf, which Bess raved over. She said it looked perfect with my red hair. Who knew that detective work could be so stylish?
* * *
* * *
About the Author
Carolyn Keene is the bestselling author of the popular Nancy Drew series of books.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Aladdin paperback edition August 2017
Text copyright © 2017 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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Library of Congress Control Number 2017939253
ISBN 978-1-4814-8544-9 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4814-8543-2 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-4814-8545-6 (eBook)
The Professor and the Puzzle Page 10