The Case of the Vanishing Veil

by Carolyn Keene

  “Good idea!” shouted Meredith.

  “You’re a genius,” Bess said, taking Nancy’s arm. “But we’ve got to hurry. Now that I know the bride, I want to get a better seat!”

  “Okay.” Nancy laughed. “But we left our bags upstairs. You get the seats and I’ll be right back.”

  Bess headed into the church, and Nancy climbed the stone stairs once more to retrieve their handbags. But when she got to the dressing room, a tall, imperious woman stood in front of Meredith and George, blocking the doorway. Even from the back, Nancy could see that the woman was elderly. Her gray lace dress and pillbox hat were many years out of fashion. Still, she carried herself with dignity and grace.

  “Merry,” said the white-haired old woman, “there are over a hundred people waiting for you downstairs. What’s your problem? Second thoughts? Cold feet?” The old woman thumped her cane on the floor.

  “No, Grandmother Rose,” Meredith said. “It’s just that my veil has been stolen.”

  “Your veil has been stolen?”

  “Grandmother, I’d like you to meet Nancy Drew. She’s a friend of George’s and she’s been trying to find my veil for me.”

  “Well, where is she?” the old woman said, thumping her cane again.

  “Behind you,” George answered.

  Meredith’s grandmother turned around.

  “Nancy, meet my grandmother, Rose Strauss,” Meredith said.

  Nancy held out her hand. “How do you do?” she said. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  Mrs. Strauss quickly shook Nancy’s hand. “Nice to meet me — hmmph. Were you a counselor at that summer camp, too?”

  “No,” Nancy explained. “George and Meredith were counselors together and I’m a friend of George’s from home. We both live in River Heights.”

  “Another Midwesterner,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, I’m from Maine. Maybe we Yankees take some getting used to. We don’t care much about being polite — just honest. Now, what’s this about the veil?”

  “Someone seems to be sabotaging Meredith’s wedding,” George said. “A mysterious woman was walking around pretending to be the minister’s wife, too.”

  “I expect that’s the minister’s problem,” said Rose Strauss. “And as for that veil — I never should have given it to you in the first place, Merry.”

  “Why not?” Meredith asked. She sounded hurt.

  “It just covers up your pretty face,” Mrs. Strauss said. “Now let’s get this show on the road.”

  Rose Strauss walked over and started brushing Meredith’s hair. Then she turned her granddaughter around for a final inspection.

  “There — you look perfect,” Rose said. Meredith gave her grandmother a hug and then the bridal party rushed downstairs to take their places so the wedding could begin.

  The ceremony was simple, short, and lovely — just what the hot and thirsty wedding guests wanted. Meredith looked radiant, even without a veil.

  Afterward Nancy and Bess congratulated the newlyweds in the receiving line outside the church.

  “I’m so happy and grateful to you,” Meredith told Nancy. “But I still want the veil back. After Helga’s prediction, I can’t help it — I guess I’m just superstitious.”

  “Don’t worry,” Nancy reassured her. “I’m on the case already. Just do me one favor: Keep your eyes open at the reception and tell me if you see the redheaded woman again. Okay?”

  Meredith promised that she would.

  The reception was held in a beautiful hotel in Cambridge, on the banks of the Charles River. Nancy and her friends gazed at the graceful, meandering river as their cab sped across one of the many small bridges that connected Boston to the smaller, quieter Cambridge.

  As soon as Nancy, Bess, and George walked into the hotel ballroom, George was whisked away to pose for photos.

  “Look at this place!” Bess gasped, her head tilted back to take in the elaborate chandeliers which hung from the ceiling. Thick, plush red carpeting covered the floors, and the walls were covered in gold and white brocade wallpaper.

  “I know,” Nancy agreed. “And there are three other ballrooms just like this one. We passed them in the corridor.”

  Nancy and Bess found seats at one of the small round tables draped with white tablecloths. But Bess didn’t sit down.

  “I’ll get us some food,” Bess offered. Eating was one of Bess’s favorite occupations, whatever the occasion.

  While Bess was gone, Nancy looked around the room and thought about the missing veil. Was there someone among the wedding guests who might have stolen it? Nancy wondered. Was the phony minister’s wife involved? Did Tony Fiske take it as a prank? Or was something else going on?

  Conversations at the nearby tables snapped Nancy out of her private thoughts. The talk seemed to be divided into two topics. Either people were saying how beautiful the bride, the ceremony, and the reception were, or they were talking about Boston’s famous and recently deceased multimillionaire, Brendan Thorndike. Nancy couldn’t help overhearing what they said.

  At the table next to her, a husband and wife were leaning close to each other.

  “Just think, Betty, if I could somehow prove that I’m the only living heir of Brendan Thorndike, the old buzzard’s sixty million dollars would fall right into our laps,” said the husband. He took a big gulp of champagne.

  “That would be great, Dirk,” said his wife, smiling fondly at him. “But half of Boston is trying to pull that same seam. Besides, you aren’t related to Brendan Thorndike.”

  “A small detail,” Dirk said, laughing.

  Nancy’s attention was suddenly drawn away to the opposite end of the room. At the table where champagne punch was being served was a woman with startlingly bright red hair.

  Nancy jumped up and cut through the crowds of talkers and dancers, trying to reach the table before the red-haired woman got away. Had Meredith seen the woman? Nancy wondered. No — she was busy cutting the cake. When Nancy finally reached Meredith, the bride and the groom were laughing and wiping bits of chocolate cake and white icing off their fingers.

  “Meredith,” Nancy said. “Look over there. Is that the red-haired woman you saw? The one who pretended to be Mrs. Petry?”

  Meredith had to wait a moment for the woman across the room to turn around. When she did, Meredith laughed. “Oh, Nancy,” she said. “That’s Mark’s aunt Pat.”

  Nancy shrugged and carried pieces of wedding cake away for Bess and herself. On the way She scanned the room, looking for Meredith’s grandmother, Rose Strauss. Finally she found the older woman sitting at a center table, eating a plateful of mints and nuts.

  “Mrs. Strauss,” Nancy said, sitting down for a moment, “I’ve been trying to catch you ever since we left the church. Would you mind telling me about the veil? What does it look like?”

  “It’s old, handmade lace,” Rose said. “And it has a very large rose worked into the center of the back. It’s the only thing I saved from my wedding, and now I wish I hadn’t.”

  “Do you have any photos of it?” asked Nancy.

  “No.”

  Her answer was curt and definite, as if to say the subject was closed. But then she went on. “I know Meredith wants you to get the veil back. But it’s of no great consequence to me, and I don’t give a hoot for astrologers” predictions. As far as I’m concerned, that veil will bring Merry more bad luck if she has it than if she doesn’t. Just look at how it almost ruined her wedding.”

  Rose Strauss eyed Nancy sideways before saying any more.

  “Meredith is already married, so do yourself a favor, young lady. Forget about the veil and just enjoy the rest of the day.”

  Before Nancy could say another word, Rose stood, and the band leader stepped up to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom will lead off the first dance. Clear the floor, please.”

  Nancy returned to her own table and watched Meredith and Mark dance. As George and the best man, Mark’s brother, joined th
e couple on the dance floor, Bess dropped down next to Nancy with a plateful of sandwiches.

  “Great food,” she said. “Try a sandwich.”

  The girls spent the rest of the reception sampling the food and dancing with a few of Mark’s friends. Finally the band leader announced that the bride and groom would be leaving soon.

  “Will everyone please gather outside the hotel to see them off?” he said.

  Instantly Bess appeared at Nancy’s side and whispered one word: “Bouquet.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Nancy warned her friend.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Bess replied. “I made a deal.”

  When they got outside, the sun, which had been bright earlier, was hiding behind clouds. The air felt cooler and damper. The sky threatened rain.

  And as soon as Meredith and Mark stepped out of the hotel it did start raining. But it rained rice, not raindrops. The young couple laughed and tried to cover themselves, but the rice came from every direction. Then, with a wink, Meredith threw her bouquet into the air and directly into Bess’s waiting hands.

  “Invite me to your wedding!” Meredith teased Bess.

  Mark and Meredith then pushed their way through the crowd and jumped into the black limo waiting at the curb. “Goodbye, Gram! Goodbye, George!” Meredith shouted and waved behind the closed, smoked-glass window of the car.

  The driver started the engine and began to pull away. But suddenly a large black cloud of smoke and an explosion burst from the back end of the car. The startled crowd jumped back, and watched in horror as the limo lunged forward onto the sidewalk — and then smashed into an iron fence!

  3

  The White Limousine

  “What happened?”

  “Call the police!”

  “Are they hurt?”

  Everyone was shouting at once and running toward the car. Its back fender was crumpled and its front end was wedged up against the iron fence.

  After a long minute, the limo driver swung his door open and climbed out. He was shaking his head, confused and dizzy. But he was uninjured. He jerked the back door open and looked in as the crowd closed around him.

  “They’re all right!”

  The word spread quickly, but Nancy didn’t feel relieved until Meredith and Mark climbed out of the car. Rose Strauss, who was standing away from the crowd with Bess, took a deep breath.

  “I heard that big boom, and I just lost control,” the driver explained over and over. “I just lost control.”

  When Nancy reached the car, Meredith was leaning on it, crumpling a “Just Married” sign in her hand. Mark was beside her, his arm wrapped snugly around her shoulders.

  “I can’t help it, Mark,” she said to him. “It’s true. We are starting our marriage under a cloud of bad luck.”

  Mark’s dark eyes looked steadily into Meredith’s, and his voice was calm. “Meredith,” he said, “we don’t have to cancel our honeymoon just because a couple of weird things happened.”

  “Do you want a life filled with accidents?” she said.

  “This wasn’t an accident,” Nancy interrupted. “I just checked out the rear of the car. Someone put some Small plastic explosives in a tin can and tied it to the bumper.”

  “Explosives?” Meredith said. “Oh, great!”

  “It’s not that serious,” Nancy said. “It was just meant to make some smoke and noise. The can bouncing on the cobblestone street probably set it off.”

  The crowd let Rose Strauss and Bess through, and Meredith gave her grandmother a long, clinging hug.

  “We’re both fine, Mrs. Strauss,” Mark said. “We just want to get out of here.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Meredith said. “I don’t want to go. I want my veil back so this horrible prediction won’t come true.”

  Mark gave Nancy a pleading look, and at the same time, Bess poked Nancy in the side. Everyone expected her to do something.

  “Meredith, listen,” Nancy said, mustering her most confident tone of voice. “I promised I’d find your veil and I will. Really. Go on your honeymoon, and by the time you get back, I’ll have solved this case.”

  Meredith still hesitated.

  “If anyone can do it, it’s Nancy,” George reassured her friend.

  Meredith seemed to relax a little when she heard that.

  “Okay, but I’ll call you every day to find out how it’s coming,” Meredith said.

  One of Mark’s friends hailed a taxi and then transferred the luggage and the bride and groom into the cab. The guests stayed to watch the taxi bounce away down the narrow stone street, making certain Meredith and Mark were safely on their way this time.

  “It was a nice wedding, even with the extra excitement, wasn’t it?” George said to her friends.

  “It was wonderful,” Bess agreed with a sigh. “But now let’s go back to our hotel and recuperate.”

  “Good idea,” George said. “But I feel an attack of tourist-it is coming on. How about going for a sunset Swan Boat ride?”

  “Not until I get out of these high heels,” said Bess.

  “And I want to call my dad first,” Nancy said. The three friends quickly hailed a cab and hopped in.

  “To the Ritz!” Bess said to the cabdriver in her most theatrical voice.

  They were staying in the famous Ritz-Carlton, one of Boston’s most elegant hotels. Ordinarily, the Ritz would have been too extravagant for the three teenagers. But the hotel had a special rate for guests staying more than just a few days. By splitting it three ways, Nancy, Bess, and George could afford to indulge in a little luxury.

  Nancy entered their room, which faced a beautiful park, and flopped down onto one of the brocade bedspreads covering the enormous beds. Bess kicked off her shoes and collapsed in a huge chair. And George, who was never really comfortable in a dress, immediately changed into pants.

  “I’m hungry,” Bess announced, heading for the room’s mini-refrigerator. It was stocked with sodas and juices, nuts and candy bars.

  “But you just ate at the reception!” George teased.

  “That doesn’t count,” Bess complained. “Everyone knows that you never really get full at a buffet like that. You just keep filling those tiny little plates, and then when you get home, you still feel like you haven’t had anything to eat. Where’s the room-service menu?”

  While Bess read the menu, George thumbed through a sightseer’s guide to Boston, and Nancy called her father, Carson Drew, River Heights’s most prominent attorney.

  “Guess who,” Nancy said into the phone.

  “The Queen of England? I’ve always wanted to get a call from her,” said Carson Drew, laughing.

  “You’re funny sometimes, you know that?” Nancy said.

  “Thank you. I do my best. How’s Boston? And how was the wedding?”

  “Beautiful … but, Dad, I need a favor,” said Nancy.

  “That’s strange,” Carson Drew said. “You only say that when you’re working on a mystery — not when you’re a guest at a wedding.”

  “Actually, Dad, there is a mystery involved; the bride’s veil was stolen.”

  “So you are working on a case,” Nancy’s father said with surprise. “What’s the favor?”

  “You’ve always said you have a friend in every police department across the country,” Nancy began. “Who is it in Boston? I need to trace a license plate.”

  “No problem,” said Carson Drew. “Lieutenant Burt Flood. He’s an old friend.”

  “Thanks, Dad, I’ll tell him you said hello.” After hanging up with her father, Nancy made a quick call to the police station to let the lieutenant know she was coming.

  Thirty minutes later her taxi pulled up to the precinct house.

  She found Lieutenant Burt Flood at his desk, surrounded by stacks and stacks of papers, files, newspapers, and memos. When he stood up to greet Nancy, he wore a big smile.

  “Carson Drew’s daughter? I don’t believe it,” the heavyset policeman said in a gravelly voice. “His
little girl is three years old.”

  “I was three — fifteen years ago,” Nancy said. She moved a stack of folders to sit down in a chair by his desk.

  “Has it been fifteen years? I don’t believe it,” said Lieutenant Flood. “So what are you doing in Boston? Vacation?”

  “I came here for a wedding, but now I’m working on a case,” Nancy said. “I’m a detective.”

  “I don’t believe it,” he said again.

  “My dad said you’d help me trace a license plate,” Nancy went on, ignoring his skepticism.

  “Well,” he said, looking at her intently for a long minute. Then he broke into a broad smile. “For Carson Drew’s daughter, anything. I can have that for you in just a few minutes.”

  The lieutenant tapped a few keys on his computer keyboard. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s the plate number?”

  “It’s actually a one-word plate — LICORICE.” Tap tap tap. Lieutenant Flood squinted at the screen as he wrote down a name and address and handed it to Nancy. “Very fancy address. Lives in

  the Beacon Hill area,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Nancy said.

  “Any time,” the policeman answered. “It was great seeing you again. I’ll bet your dad’s real proud of you.”

  As soon as Nancy left the precinct, she opened the folded piece of paper.

  It said: Cecelia Bancroft, 1523 Chestnut Street.

  Nancy looked at her watch, eager to follow up this lead. But there wasn’t time. She had promised to join Bess and George back at the hotel to go for a Swan Boat ride.

  Well, Nancy thought to herself, a little tourist activity before starting this new case wouldn’t be a bad idea. Things would get pretty intense soon enough. Her cases always did.

  When she got back to the hotel, Nancy phoned her friends from the lobby telephone. A few minutes later, they were in the Boston Public Garden, a park right across the street from the Ritz. Nancy was happy to finally see the famous Swan Boats, named for their swan shape. Now, at least, when every hotel clerk and bellboy asked, “Have you been on the Swan Boats yet?” Nancy could say yes!