False Impressions

by Carolyn Keene

  “What’s that?”

  Ned tilted his head and kissed her gently on the lips. Moments later he drew his lips away, flashed a smile, and murmured, “Mmmmm—definitely Nancy.”

  “You do want to make sure,” Nancy whispered, returning his kiss with a lingering one of her own.

  A few seconds later Ned pulled away and led her into the house. There, Nancy explained the reason for her masquerade.

  Finishing up, she added, “As far as I can tell, Crain came down from Chicago that Saturday night, calling himself Andrew Carson, planning some sort of revenge against my dad.”

  Ned frowned. “If that’s the case, Nancy, why did Crain stay in Mapleton? Why didn’t he go straight on to River Heights?”

  “He obviously had some sort of business here,” Nancy said, biting her lower lip. “But what?”

  “However you look at it, Crain has to be tied in with your impersonator,” Ned observed aloud.

  “What makes you think that?” Nancy felt herself growing excited. Ned’s hunches were often good.

  “Look at it this way,” Ned said, counting off the facts on his fingers. “One, he was in Mrs. Hackney’s neighborhood when we saw him that afternoon. Two, he had that Nancy Drew signature in his pocket when he was killed.”

  “You’re reaching, Ned, but I think you may be right.” Nancy thought for a moment. It was a theory worth following up. “We need to gather the missing pieces, and the best way I can think to do that is to talk to Mrs. Hackney.”

  Nancy went into the hall to the phone. Lifting the receiver, she dialed the Hackney residence. When the maid answered and told her that Mrs. Hackney was at the club, Nancy asked her if she could set up an appointment there.

  “I could call her for you,” Sarah offered. “Maybe set something up.”

  “Would you? I’d appreciate that very much,” Nancy replied. Then she gave the maid Ned’s home telephone number.

  While they waited, Ned offered to go with her to the country club. “It’ll make good cover,” he explained. “It’ll look as if Nancy’s own boyfriend had doubts about her innocence.”

  Nancy smiled to herself. Ned could be so clever. “Good idea,” she said, “but it’ll look better if you and ‘Brenda’ meet at the club by accident. Also, you can do me a favor. While I’m with Mrs. Hackney, would you copy some information out of the club register?”

  “Sure.” Ned nodded briskly. “What am I looking for?”

  “Dates and times of visits by any of the people linked to Nancy Drew. That’s Mr. Eklund, Mrs. Hackney, Barry Aitkin, and Andrea Tannenbaum.”

  The telephone rang and Nancy picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Carlton, this is Sarah again. I just talked to Mrs. Hackney. Go right out to the club. She’ll clear it with the front gate. You’ll find her on the squash courts.”

  “Thank you!” Grinning, Nancy hung up.

  Nancy and Ned made the trip in separate cars. Nancy took the lead in her Mustang. As she pulled up outside the gatehouse, Danny walked out. Nancy experienced a flicker of apprehension. Was her Brenda-voice good enough to fool him?

  Touching his cap’s brim, Danny showed her a welcoming smile. “Back again, Ms. Carlton?”

  “I’ve got a few more questions for Mrs. Hackney.” Returning his smile, Nancy rolled down her window.

  “I know. She told me to expect you.” Danny handed her a sign-in clipboard. “Here. This’ll get you a parking space. Hey, you missed all the excitement here last night.”

  “What happened?” Nancy feigned a curious expression. She signed in as Brenda Carlton, guest of Elizabeth Hackney.

  “Near as the police can tell, two sets of burglars broke in here last night. There was some vandalism in the ballroom, but nothing was stolen.”

  “Thanks for the tip, Danny. Sounds like there’s a story in it.”

  Stepping back, Danny grinned, lifted his hand, and waved farewell.

  After parking in the guest lot, Nancy shouldered her bag and marched into the main lobby. The club’s decor was baronial: plush draperies and wall mountings of imitation broadswords, thick oak ceiling beams, and a polished flagstone floor. The sound of her heels reverberated in the far corners of the spacious chamber.

  Nancy stopped a waiter and asked the way to the squash courts. As she was heading across the broad lobby, she saw Ned chatting with the desk clerk. The clerk handed him the club register. Pen in hand, Ned thanked him and carried the book over to a nearby table.

  Nancy sauntered down a pastel green hallway. From the distance, she could hear the echo of game noises.

  Reaching the end of the corridor, Nancy found herself on a balcony overlooking the racquetball court. A slender woman with short black hair, wearing a leotard, sat in the front row with her elbows on the railing, watching the players.

  The pair was quite good, Nancy decided. She recognized the man—Barry Aitkin—from his club photo. He was tanned and fit. Aitkin’s opponent was a chestnut-haired girl a little older than Nancy, strikingly pretty, with an uptilted nose and a firm, expressive mouth. She bounded all over the court, charging and backpedaling, hammering the ball with sharp overhand slams.

  Nancy stepped into the front row. “Mrs. Hackney?”

  Turning her head, Mrs. Hackney stared uncertainly for a moment. Nancy felt her heartbeat quicken. Then the woman smiled in recognition. “Oh, hello, Brenda. Sarah said you’d be coming. What can I do for you?”

  Nancy mimicked Brenda’s slightly nasal tone to perfection. “I have a few questions to ask you. I hope you won’t mind answering them.”

  “Not at all. I’d be delighted to cooperate.” Beth Hackney patted the bench beside her. “Sit over here where I can see you. I’m afraid I left my glasses in the car.” She made a fretful face. “I hate those things. No matter what kind of frames I buy, they make me look like an owl.”

  “Maybe you ought to try contact lenses,” Nancy suggested, sitting down.

  “I wish I could, but I can’t seem to wear them.” Beth brushed a wing of dark hair away from her jawline. “I also wish there was some way of recovering my money. The police aren’t very optimistic. Oh, well, I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied with seeing that Drew girl in prison—where she belongs!”

  Nancy took out her pen. She was remembering what the real Brenda had told her about Mrs. Hackney’s meeting with “Nancy Drew.” “You know, the first time we spoke, you told me you saw her talking to someone near the vending machines. Did you get a good look at this other person?”

  Pointing at the racquetball court, Beth replied, “As a matter of fact, I did. It was Barry.”

  Nancy noticed that Beth’s face softened dramatically when she looked at Aitkin. This was a woman in love.

  With that in mind, Nancy chose her next words carefully. “If you don’t mind a personal question—were you friends with Mr. Aitkin then?”

  “Not exactly,” Beth Hackney said shyly. “I knew Barry, because I met him shortly after he moved to Mapleton. In fact, I helped to sponsor him for membership in the club. But we weren’t friends then, not quite.”

  Glancing at the court, Nancy watched as the couple finished their game. Aitkin and his partner met at the exit, shared a private laugh together, then left the court.

  “Who’s the girl?” Nancy asked.

  “Andrea Tannenbaum. His sister’s daughter. She’s just moved to Mapleton.” Nancy could have been mistaken, but she thought she detected a jealous note in the woman’s voice.

  “I’m curious about something, Mrs. Hackney,” Nancy said, pursuing her questions. “Why do you think Barry approached Nancy Drew that day?”

  “He didn’t. It was the other way around,” Beth explained. “From what Barry told me, Nancy Drew wanted to explain that she was making progress on his case.”

  “His case?” Nancy echoed Beth Hackney’s words, trying to hide her shock. “You mean Aitkin was her client, too?” she asked.

  “Well, yes.” The woman nodded. “Nancy Drew actually
approached Barry before she came to me. I didn’t know, of course.”

  “How did you find out?” Nancy asked expectantly.

  “It was strange, really. After Nancy Drew billed me, I mentioned it to Barry, of course. We knew each other well by then, you understand,” Beth Hackney explained.

  Nancy nodded patiently. “And?”

  “You may not believe this, but that girl had conned Barry out of twenty thousand dollars!”

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  NANCY’S EYEBROWS LIFTED in surprise. This was news to her. The last she had heard, Mr. Eklund and Mrs. Hackney were the only people “Nancy Drew” had conned.

  “How did he react when he learned you’d been taken, too?” Nancy asked.

  “He was furious,” Beth recalled. “He said we ought to pool our money and hire another private detective to track down this Drew girl. I said no. Having already been used by one private eye, I had no desire to repeat the experience. Instead I lodged a complaint with the police. Barry was a little annoyed about that. He said we would only be publicly embarrassed, but he changed his mind once the police arrested that girl. Then he reported the crime.”

  Nancy’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Why didn’t Aitkin go to the police first?

  Barry Aitkin and Andrea Tannenbaum had stopped playing and were now coming down the balcony stairs. They were both flushed with exertion, grinning and sweating, lightly holding their racquets. Beth lifted her face for a kiss. Barry obliged and squeezed her shoulder.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us, darling?” he asked.

  “Of course, dear. Brenda Carlton, Barry Aitkin.” Nancy reached out to shake Barry Aitkin’s hand.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “How was your game?” Beth asked as Barry and Andrea sat down.

  “Just fine, Aunt Beth.” Andrea’s smile displayed flawless teeth. Although Nancy couldn’t quite tell why, the girl looked strangely familiar to her.

  “Is this your first time at the club?” Nancy asked.

  Andrea nodded, her smile sassy. “You bet.” All at once, her smile turned sheepish. “Ah, not exactly! Almost forgot the dance.” She patted her uncle’s forearm. “Still, this is my first time on the racquetball court as a guest member.” Her smile widening, she turned to Beth. “You really ought to play, Beth. There’s nothing better for keeping your weight down.”

  Beth’s face colored. “Andrea—”

  Aitkin gave Andrea a hard look. “Don’t be so disrespectful! I don’t know how my sister puts up with you.” He gave Andrea a light push. “Why don’t you go get dressed, princess.” He flashed his brightest smile at Nancy. “How about it, Ms. Carlton? Join us for a soda in the club’s café?”

  “Sounds good to me, Mr. Aitkin.”

  After Beth and Andrea headed to the woman’s locker room to shower and get dressed, Aitkin turned to Nancy.

  “I’m a little curious, Brenda,” he said, “What brings the Times’s hottest crime reporter here?”

  “The Nancy Drew case,” she said smoothly. “I’m curious, too, Mr. Aitkin. Were you one of her victims?”

  Aitkin’s eyes flickered in surprise. His smile remained in place, Nancy noticed, but it was brittle and remote.

  “Yes, I was.” He spoke in whispers. “Nancy Drew had approached me before she went after Beth. Did Beth tell you?”

  “Yes, she did,” Nancy confirmed. “She also said you were taken for twenty thousand.”

  Aitkin nodded stiffly. “That’s right.”

  “Why didn’t you want to go to the police?” Nancy asked, scribbling in her notebook.

  “I know it seems strange, but there was too much risk of public embarrassment.” Aitkin’s expression turned decidedly unfriendly. “I make my living advising people about their investments. If people think I can be conned, they won’t trust me. Now, don’t you think those are enough questions?”

  Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but Aitkin cut her off.

  “The invitation for a soda still stands, but I’d really rather forget that this whole thing happened, especially now that the police have caught the woman.” He folded his arms and cast Nancy an impatient glance.

  Closing her notebook, Nancy gave him a curt nod. “Some other time, Mr. Aitkin.”

  As she walked away, Nancy tried to make sense of the man’s actions. She could understand Aitkin’s rationale for not going to the police, but that didn’t explain why he had tried to talk Beth Hackney out of reporting the theft. Just what was that man up to?

  As she entered the lobby, Nancy heard fast footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw a fuming Ned heading her way.

  Grabbing her upper arm, Ned snapped, “Hold it, Carlton! I want to talk to you about that story in Today’s Times! I’ve got some info for you,” he added under his breath.

  Pulling her arm free, Nancy put on a show for the waiters and guests in the lobby. “Haven’t you ever heard of freedom of the press, Ned Nickerson?”

  “I’ll show you freedom of the press . . .” Ned’s fingertips propelled Nancy into an alcove behind the vending machines. When he was certain that nobody was looking, he murmured, “I got everything you needed from the register.”

  He shoved a rolled-up paper into Nancy’s purse. “Mr. Eklund’s a rare visitor to the club. Aitkin and Mrs. Hackney have been here every day. I counted four visits by the Tannenbaum girl. The dates and times are all written down for you.”

  “Thanks, Ned.” Nancy offered him a grateful smile. “Listen, would you do me a favor?”

  “Name it.”

  “Bess and George are staking out Barry Aitkin’s house,” Nancy explained. “I’d feel better if you went over there and backed them up. The more I learn about Aitkin, the more I think he’s involved in this, but I need proof.”

  “How are you going to manage that?”

  “I’m headed for the police station.” She told Ned about her conversation with Aitkin. “I want to see if Aitkin really did report the crime the way Mrs. Hackney thinks he did.”

  “Good luck,” Ned said quietly.

  “Thanks.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll meet you all at Aitkin’s house as soon as I’m finished. Now, as we walk out of here, pretend we’ve just had an argument, okay?”

  Ned nodded silently.

  For the benefit of witnesses, Nancy raised her voice. “I will not print a retraction! It’s not my fault your precious girlfriend was arrested.”

  “Come off it, Carlton! You tried and convicted Nancy in yesterday’s edition!” he shouted, following Nancy through the lobby.

  Lifting her nose Brenda-style, Nancy snapped, “If you’re dumb enough to go out with a jailbird, Nickerson, that’s your problem.”

  Ned halted in the foyer. “If she ends up in jail, it’ll be your fault, Carlton. You and that poisoned typewriter of yours!”

  Pausing dramatically at the door, Nancy turned and did a perfect imitation of Brenda. “I simply print the truth—as I see it!”

  Then, trying not to laugh, she hurried out into the parking lot.

  • • •

  As she climbed the steps of Mapleton’s police station, Nancy felt more than a little apprehensive. In two minutes she would be playing the role of Brenda in front of her most critical audience.

  Chin up, Nancy strolled through the day-room. A beefy, gray-haired sergeant sat at the high desk, writing something.

  Nancy cleared her throat. The sergeant looked up, then smiled in recognition. “Hi, Brenda. What’s up?”

  “Hi, Sarge.” Inwardly Nancy winced. Jittery nerves had made her mess up the voice, but there was nothing she could do about it now. “I wanted to see if there’s anything new in the Drew case.”

  Holding her breath, Nancy nervously waited for his reaction.

  The sergeant’s smile never wavered. “Ever since your story came out, we’ve been deluged with calls.”

  Nancy took out her notebook and started writing. “What kind of calls, Sarge?”

&n
bsp; “People who say they’ve been conned by Nancy Drew are calling from all over the county.”

  Thinking of Aitkin’s story, Nancy seized the opportunity. “Could I take a look at the list of all the complaints received in the case?”

  “Sure.” The sergeant handed her a photocopied sheet. “If you need a quote, though, you’ll have to talk to Lieutenant Kowalski. I’m not authorized to comment on the case.”

  “Thanks.” As Nancy took an empty seat in the waiting room, she hoped she wouldn’t run into Kowalski. He might not buy the disguise the way everyone else did.

  She looked over the paper, her keen gaze sweeping over the list of names and addresses, picking out Donald Eklund and Elizabeth Hackney at once.

  There was no mention of Barry Aitkin, which meant that Aitkin had never bothered to report his loss to the police. So he had lied to Beth Hackney, but why?

  Mulling it over, Nancy opened her notebook and copied the information from the fact sheet.

  From the reported dates, the Nancy Drew impersonator had certainly been busy during the past two weeks. Nearly every day was accounted for by complaints from citizens. Every day but four.

  Nancy’s gaze strayed to the wall calendar. Four days. Two Saturdays a week apart, and the past two days—Wednesday and Thursday. Her frown deepened. Why did that second Saturday seem so familiar?

  Then she remembered: the dance! That was the night of the country club dance—the night Mr. Eklund had seen Joe Crain dancing with Andrea Tannenbaum.

  A sudden chill crept up Nancy’s spine. She checked her notes. Yesterday was Thursday, and it was the day Joe Crain had been murdered.

  Playing a hunch, Nancy checked Ned’s list. Sure enough, Barry Aitkin had been at the club yesterday, too. Signing in as his guest was Andrea Tannenbaum!

  Flipping pages, Nancy rechecked Ned’s club register information. Surprise, surprise. Andrea had been at the club on three other days as Barry’s guest—a Saturday, a Saturday, and this past Wednesday.

  Those were the very same days that the Nancy Drew impersonator had not been listed on the police records. What if it wasn’t a coincidence?