Fatal Ransom

by Carolyn Keene

  “Got it,” said George.

  “Bess,” Nancy continued, “I want you to go to the mall too. Trail George at a distance. Don’t let her out of your sight. If these kids are involved, it could be really dangerous. Call me if you notice anything out of the ordinary—anything.

  “I’m going over to the Colson mansion to talk to Lance. Then I’ll meet you both back at the mall.”

  Bess was pouting. “I have a much better idea. Why don’t you go spy on George, Nancy? I’ll take care of your business with Mr. Gorgeous.”

  Nancy flashed her a grin. “Nice try, Bess. But no go.”

  • • •

  When Nancy arrived at the Colsons’, she interrupted Lance as he was finishing his breakfast. Nancy knew that Lance hadn’t gone to the office since the kidnapping on Sunday. Now it was Wednesday, and Nancy thought it was admirable of him to have dropped everything until he had some word about Hal.

  “There’s no news,” Lance said as he walked into the foyer to greet Nancy and escort her into the living room.

  “Well, I have some,” she answered, telling him about what she’d seen on the scanner tape and the plan she’d put into motion that morning.

  “Our time is running out, Lance,” Nancy said. “I know this is a long shot, but we have to do something.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed somberly.

  Nancy paused for a second. She’d been thinking about something else on the drive over. “Lance, I don’t want to alarm you,” she said. “But I think you’d better go to the bank and get the ransom money today.”

  “What?”

  “It’s nothing to worry about,” Nancy said. “But we could hear from the kidnappers at any time. Today’s Wednesday, but they said we’d hear from them again by tomorrow morning. We may as well be ready. Once they make contact, there’ll be no time to waste.”

  “I’ll go right now,” Lance said instantly. He looked thoughtful, then said, “Monica will be here this morning. She can man the telephone while I’m gone.”

  Nancy wasn’t sure he was right. The last time Monica had been told to stay by the phones, she went shopping instead. But it would have to do. Nancy couldn’t sit around the house waiting for Lance to get back—she needed to get to the mall.

  Monica’s reaction to Lance’s plan was no surprise to Nancy. “I don’t want to stay here and baby-sit a telephone!” she protested. “Who do you think I am?”

  Lance grimaced. “Nancy, why don’t you go on ahead?” he asked. “I’ll just—just finish things up in here.”

  Nancy guessed that he didn’t want her to overhear an argument. She didn’t want to stick around to hear it either. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll call you later.”

  She climbed into her car and turned the key. Nothing happened. Nancy tried again. Still nothing. What a time to have engine trouble! she thought.

  Just then Lance stamped out of the front door. He looked furious, but he managed to compose himself when he saw Nancy. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Engine trouble,” she said disgustedly.

  “Mind if I use your phone to call the auto club?”

  “Be my guest,” Lance said. “Uh—I wouldn’t go upstairs if I were you. Monica’s up there.”

  “I understand,” Nancy said.

  • • •

  In a few minutes she’d rejoined him on the driveway. “Someone will be here in an hour,” she said. “To either start the car or tow it away, or something. I’ll just wait out here until they come.”

  “Get in,” Lance said, pointing to his Maserati. “I’ll drop you off at the mall on my way to the bank. It’s almost on the way.”

  “Thanks, Lance,” Nancy said gratefully.

  Lance got in beside her, put the key in the ignition, and turned it. Then he slapped his forehead. “Wait a minute,” he groaned. “Now I’ve got to go back inside. I forgot to get a briefcase to put all that money in.”

  Nancy smiled and shook her head as he disappeared into the house. The morning was really getting messed up. What else could possibly go wrong?

  As if on cue, a car honked. Nancy turned around and saw Bess pull up and park farther down the driveway. Bess jumped out of her car and waved frantically at Nancy.

  “What’s she doing here?” Nancy said to herself. Something must have happened to George! Quickly she got out of Lance’s car and ran toward Bess.

  Suddenly there was an explosion behind her, and Nancy was hurled into the air.

  Chapter

  Eight

  WHEN THE DUST settled, Nancy was facedown on the driveway, and the first thing she heard was Bess screaming, “Are you all right? Nancy? Are you all right?”

  For a minute Nancy didn’t move.

  “Nancy!” Bess shrieked.

  Nancy turned over and looked at the smoke rising from Lance’s car. “I’m all right,” she said, staggering to her feet. “If you hadn’t pulled up and honked when you did, though, I wouldn’t have been. Good timing, Bess!”

  As Nancy walked toward the wreckage of the Maserati, Lance came rushing out of the house. His face was white.

  “What happened?” he demanded. “I—I don’t understand—”

  “It’s pretty clear,” Nancy said matter-of-factly. “Somebody bombed your car.”

  “Somebody—my car—”

  Lance looked as if he were going to be sick.

  “Obviously these guys are not going to stop at kidnapping,” Nancy said.

  Bess finished the thought. “They’re out for murder.”

  “But—but this doesn’t make sense,” Lance said. “Why try to murder me now? They don’t have their money yet!”

  “Well, they obviously wanted you out of the way for some reason,” Nancy pointed out.

  Suddenly Bess gave a gasp. “Or they were after you, Nan!”

  “No,” Nancy said. “If they’d wanted me out of the way, they would have bombed my—wait a minute,” she whispered. “My car wouldn’t start. That’s why I was in the Maserati!”

  She ran over to the Mustang and lifted the hood. Then her jaw tightened. She reached in and grabbed a loose wire.

  “Here’s the problem,” she said. “Somebody pulled one of the wires off the distributor cap. Whoever did this tried to fix it so that they could get me and Lance at the same time!”

  All Nancy could think was that the kidnappers must be on to her. And if they were, that made everyone’s job more dangerous.

  Nancy decided to keep the thought to herself. There was no point in making Bess and Lance any more scared than they already were.

  “Do you have another car?” Nancy asked Lance.

  He nodded. “I always keep a spare or two around,” he said, winking flirtatiously at Bess.

  For a minute Nancy wondered how he could joke at a time like that. But she decided he was probably just trying to lighten things up a little.

  “Go on ahead to the bank,” she told him. “I’ll cancel the auto club and fix my car, then go to the mall. I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

  Bess stuck to Lance like a wad of gum until he finally pulled out of the driveway. When his car was out of sight, she sighed. “I can’t believe it! He was so lucky he forgot that briefcase and had to go back into the house.”

  “We were both lucky,” Nancy reminded her.

  “Ned will be so glad you’re safe,” Bess went on. “He must be worried sick about—Why are you looking at me like that, Nancy?”

  “Ned doesn’t know about this case,” Nancy said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

  “He doesn’t know? You’re involved in something this big and you haven’t even bothered to tell him?”

  “Ned had a big paper to do this week,” Nancy told her. “I just didn’t want to bother him.”

  Now Bess sounded almost angry. “Bother him! Nancy, you know I try to stay out of your love life—”

  “I know, and I’m grateful to you for doing it, Bess—”

  “But don’t you think he’d rather know ab
out it when you’re in danger?” Bess went on. “He won’t care much about getting an A on a paper if he never gets the chance to say goodbye to you.”

  “Oh, stop being melodramatic, Bess!” Nancy exclaimed. “This isn’t that dangerous. And I’d just like for once to give Ned a break and not drag him into a case.”

  “Not dragging him in is one thing. Not bothering to tell him someone is trying to murder you is another. I think it’s kind of an insult to leave him in the dark. Wouldn’t you want to know if he were in trouble?”

  She would, Nancy knew.

  And suddenly she realized that Ned’s paper wasn’t the only reason she didn’t want to tell him about this case. Ned wouldn’t have wanted her to take on something so dangerous without the help of the police. They would have argued about it. And Nancy just wasn’t up to another confrontation with him.

  “There’s plenty of time for him to find out later,” she said. Then she changed the subject. “What are you doing here anyway, Bess? Weren’t you supposed to be at the mall watching George?”

  “Oh! Yes. That’s what I came to tell you,” said Bess. “George has found that tall, skinny kid with the Mohawk. The last time I saw them, they were gazing into each other’s eyes over a couple of burgers.”

  “So why did you leave her?”

  “Well,” Bess drawled, “I guess I could have called you to tell you that. But then I wouldn’t have been able to see Lance.”

  Nancy folded her arms and stared up at the sky, fighting to keep her temper.

  “You’d better be glad I didn’t call,” Bess said defensively. “If I hadn’t shown up, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now. You wouldn’t be having a conversation with anyone right now—not on this earth, anyway.”

  “Okay, Bess,” Nancy said. She glanced at her watch. With all the excitement the morning had raced by.

  “I’ve got to get back to check on George,” Nancy said. She patted Bess on the arm. “Say, would you mind staying here? Someone should be here to handle any messages that may come in—and if you see Monica, you can keep an eye on her too.”

  “All right,” said Bess reluctantly. “But if she gives me any problems, I’m going to deck her.”

  “You do that,” Nancy said, and laughed.

  • • •

  When Nancy arrived at the mall, she went into the hamburger place. George and the kid with the Mohawk were nowhere to be seen.

  Nancy walked for what seemed like miles before she spotted the two. They were standing in the corridor looking into a store window. Nancy’s skin crawled when the kid with the Mohawk took George’s hand.

  As Nancy eased her way through the crowd to get a closer look at the pair, her heart began to thunder. George could be in real danger if this boy were connected to the Hal Colson kidnapping! But Nancy held back. George knew what she was doing, and she didn’t show any outward signs of nervousness.

  Nancy was deciding what to do when she saw Bess coming toward her. “Bess! Why aren’t you at the house?” she asked.

  “This is why,” answered Bess, handing Nancy a neatly folded letter.

  Nancy opened it. It was on stationery with Lance’s letterhead. In neat handwriting it said, “Ms. Drew: I can take care of things myself. I don’t need a baby-sitter. Especially one with eyes for my man.” The note was signed “Monica Sloane.”

  Before Nancy could say anything, Bess blurted out, “Imagine the nerve of that woman! Calling me a baby-sitter. And accusing me of—why, she almost threw me out of the house!”

  Nancy was reading the note again. Absent-mindedly she ran her fingers over the fine texture of the paper.

  “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Bess asked.

  Nancy barely heard the words. A half-buried memory was forcing its way to the surface, and she was struggling to identify it. The note—the notepaper . . .

  After fishing through her purse, Nancy pulled out the first ransom note Lance had received. She held it up to the sun and stared at it. The paper was fine-textured linen, with a swan watermark on it.

  Then Nancy held up Monica’s handwritten note—and smiled wryly. “Yep,” she said. Monica’s note had the same watermark.

  Holding the two papers side by side, Nancy saw that the ransom note was shorter than Monica’s. The Colson letterhead had been cut off the ransom note.

  “Nancy, what is it?” Bess asked.

  Nancy grabbed Bess’s arm and pointed her toward George and the guy with the Mohawk.

  “You stay here and keep an eye on George,” she said. “I’m going to talk to Monica Sloane!”

  • • •

  “Well, Monica?” asked Nancy half an hour later as she confronted Monica with Lance, who had just returned. “What’s the connection between your note to Bess and Hal’s ransom note? I’m sure we’d all like to know.” She was watching Monica’s eyes for any sign that might give her away.

  “You’re a stupid little thing,” Monica said. She stalked across the room and threaded her arm through Lance’s. “Lance, are you going to stand here and let her talk to me that way?”

  Lance shook his arm free and moved toward Nancy. He was staring at Monica as if he’d never seen her before.

  “I’m sorry to do this,” Nancy said to him. I know it has to come as a shock to you. But Monica’s a prime suspect in this kidnapping.”

  “And you are insane,” snarled Monica.

  “Both of you, be quiet!” Lance said, raising his voice slightly. Fighting to regain his composure, he turned to Nancy. “Nancy, I know you think this is true, but it really isn’t. I know Monica. She doesn’t like Hal, but she wouldn’t do something like this.”

  Monica was smirking at Nancy from across the room. Nancy decided to ignore her. “Then how else do you explain the fact that both notes were written on your personal stationery?” she asked Lance.

  “Simple. Monica got a piece of letterhead off my desk to write you that note. The other paper was probably in Hal’s car. He was always borrowing my good stationery for stupid little things. We’ve even argued about that very thing.”

  The story wasn’t what Nancy wanted to hear, but it made sense.

  “I bet the kidnappers found some of my stationery in Hal’s car,” Lance continued.

  Nancy nodded, but in her mind things still weren’t adding up. Why would the kidnappers have bothered to cut the letterhead off the paper? What difference would it have made? If they’d deliberately intended to use this special paper, why not just use it as it was?

  Nancy turned and paced the room, her back to Lance and Monica. There was no point in talking to Monica any further. And it was clear that Lance didn’t share her suspicions, so she couldn’t take it any further with him. But as far as she was concerned, Monica was still one of her main suspects.

  Monica had all the reason in the world to want Hal out of the way. With him gone, Monica could try to put her relationship with Lance back together again. If she could marry him, she’d be able to tap into a huge fortune—one they wouldn’t have to share with Hal.

  Monica began whining again and the sound broke into Nancy’s thoughts. “Why don’t you kick her out, Lance?” Monica asked. “She’s not going to find Hal for you.”

  “Go upstairs, Monica,” Lance answered quietly, patting her arm. “You’re upset.”

  Monica was silent for a second. Then she started to shriek.

  “Of course I’m upset!” she screamed. “You bring that little brat and her bratty little friends in here and let them walk all over me! You accuse me of kidnapping your rotten nephew! You—you—” Her face became contorted by rage. Suddenly she twisted away from Lance and grabbed a poker from the fireplace.

  “I’ll get you, Nancy Drew!” she screeched, charging straight at Nancy with the poker straight out in front of her.

  Chapter

  Nine

  NANCY REACTED SWIFTLY. As Monica came toward her, she spun around and kicked the poker out of Monica’s hand. It flew through the air, lan
ding with a clatter across the room.

  But that didn’t stop Monica. Her eyes filled with murderous rage, she picked up a huge, ornate vase from an end table and hurled it at Nancy. Luckily, she missed—and the vase sailed onto the arm of the sofa behind Nancy. It teetered precariously for a second, then toppled safely over onto the sofa cushion. Nancy picked it up and walked over and replaced it on the end table.

  “Monica! Are you crazy?” yelled Lance. “That’s a Tang vase!”

  “Not to mention the fact that she tried to kill me,” said Nancy dryly.

  Monica stared at Lance and Nancy, her jaw working. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Then she rushed upstairs and they heard the sound of running feet overhead, a door slamming—and then silence.

  “That’s the bathroom she ran into!” said Lance. “There are all kinds of pills and razors in there—and the window is right over a brick patio!”

  Nancy was already halfway up the stairs.

  “That door,” said Lance as he raced up behind her. “The one down those little steps.”

  They stopped outside the door. There was complete silence inside.

  “Monica?” Nancy called cautiously. She tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

  “Monica! Are you in there?” Lance shouted. More silence.

  “Can you break down the door?” Nancy whispered.

  “Monica, I’m worried about you! If you don’t open the door, I’m going to break the door down!” said Lance.

  “I’m going to call the police,” Nancy said.

  “No! Don’t! We don’t want them in on this, remember? She’s pulled this kind of stunt before. Monica,” he said, raising his voice again, “I’m going to count to three. If you don’t open the door, I promise I’m going to break it down. One . . . two . . . three!”

  Nothing happened.

  “Okay,” Lance said grimly. He rammed his shoulder against the door. And again. The door shook slightly on its hinges, but it stayed put.

  “Once more,” Nancy said. “It’s about to give.”