by Susan Kandel
January 9, 1942. Nothing.
January 22, 1942. Ry-Krisp.
February 18, 1942. He shows me a collage he’s just finished. He’s cut a ridiculous picture of me out of an old magazine and surrounded me with a coterie of adoring sheep. The baby of the family has a drawer coming out of its stomach and a phone mounted on its little back. I am supposed to be delighted. I heard from the agency today. Nothing.
December 2, 1943. There is a character in the new Nancy Drew, an artist who is in fact a long-lost prince. His name is R. H. Ellington. R. H. Tandy—Russell—and I have a good laugh about it.
September 22, 1944. I’m going home.
September 23, 1944. What if I couldn’t go home? What then? I’d have to stay. I will stay.
January 18, 1945. I get out a knife. I pry the picture out of the frame. I don’t know if I hate it, but I know I can’t bear seeing it. I contemplate throwing it away, but I wind up hiding it. I hope it never sees the light of day.
I looked up. The rain was falling onto my windshield in big fat drops. I watched it fall, watched each drop hit the glass, then splatter and trickle down.
Clarissa had had the diary all along. Nancy had been protecting her mother from something she had known about before Nancy had even been born. But Clarissa had made a mistake. She’d assumed that Grace had come to despise the portrait Edgar had purchased, the one Dalí painted in the style of Russell Tandy. She’d assumed that Grace had regretted posing in the nude. So when she discovered what Edgar’s big surprise was, she’d canceled his appearance at the convention. She’d believed she was honoring Grace’s wishes, her desire that the painting never again see the light of day. But of course what Grace could not bear wasn’t the fact that she’d posed in the nude—hardly that—but rather, Salvador Dalí’s horrific vision of her as a cadaver being eaten alive by ants.
The secret truth about Grace Horton was that she wanted to be seen not as a surreal fantasy but as a woman.
The secret truth about Carolyn Keene was that she was only ever a fantasy.
The secret truth about Nancy Drew was that she was only ever a fantasy of a fantasy. (Try saying that three times fast.)
The point is, fantasies are powerful things. They take you places you don’t otherwise get to go. They are like airplanes, or boats. Or cars. It doesn’t particularly matter if it’s a blue roadster or a silver Camry, as long as the engine turns over when you put the key in the ignition.
On the way home, I called Gambino on his cell phone.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“On Melrose near Crescent Heights. Where are you?”
“In your living room.”
I started to laugh. “Do you have plans?”
“I plan to walk out your front door and watch you pull into your driveway.”
“I’m only a couple blocks away now. I’m passing Gelsen’s. I’m passing Melanie and her dog, Scarlett. They just went into the park.”
“Do you know what day today is?”
I knew it like I knew my own name.
“Six days later, Cece. One week minus one day. We have a date. Remember?”
I turned onto Orlando Avenue. “A date. You and me. That definitely rings a bell.”
Gambino was shutting my front door behind him as I pulled a left into the driveway.
“I put some champagne in an ice bucket.”
“Aren’t you jumping the gun?”
“I don’t know. Am I?” He was walking toward me.
“Where’d you find an ice bucket? I don’t have an ice bucket.”
We were face-to-face now, still talking into our phones.
“I bought one.”
“You hate shopping.”
“Cece,” he said, “answer the question.”
“What question exactly are we talking about?”
He took the phone out of my hand and pulled me close. “Am I jumping the gun?”
“No,” I said slowly. “You aren’t jumping the gun.”
“I don’t think so either.”
“You don’t think so? Don’t you know so?”
Poor guy. I gave him no choice. He had to shut me up with a kiss.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Once again I am grateful to my friends and family, who were always ready with kind words and good ideas. As if I weren’t lucky enough on that count, I have Sandra Dijkstra for an agent and Carolyn Marino for an editor. These women know what it means to go the extra mile. Likewise Angela Tedesco of HarperCollins, who has worked tirelessly on my behalf.
The Nancy Drew literature is extensive, but of particular use to me were the collector’s bible, Farah’s Guide, by David Farah, and Betsy Caprio’s Girl Sleuth on the Couch: The Mystery of Nancy Drew. A special thanks to Jenn Fisher, president of the fan group, Nancy Drew Sleuths, who allowed me to infiltrate the 2003 Sleuths convention and arranged for access to the Stratemeyer Archive at the New York Public Library. Jenn, as well as the other Sleuths I met in New York, impressed me greatly with their knowledge and generosity.
None of this, of course, would be possible without my husband, Peter Lunenfeld. Unlike Nancy Drew’s “special friend,” Ned Nickerson, Peter has the patience of a saint—without, thankfully, being one.
About the Author
SUSAN KANDEL is a former art critic for the Los Angeles Times. She has taught at New York University and UCLA, and served as the editor of the international journal artext. She lives in West Hollywood, California.
You can visit her website at www.susankandel.com.
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Praise for SUSAN KANDEL’s
NOT A GIRL DETECTIVE
“Take a shot of Nancy Drew, add a dash of Mary Kay Andrews and a generous splash of L.A. glam, then put them in the blender on frappe. Voila! Out comes the fun and frothy Not a Girl Detective…As much classic fun as Cece’s vintage wardrobe, with twists and turns a la Nancy Drew…colorful characters and a well-paced story.”
Orlando Sentinel
“Kandel delivers on the promise of her first Cece Caruso mystery…with this equally zany and engrossing riff on Southern California culture past and present…In addition to all the Nancy lore, Kandel weaves her knowledge of art into the puzzle, and ties everything into a splendid bow. Readers will be anxious to know whose bio she’ll tackle next.”
Publishers Weekly
“Pick up Not a Girl Detective…Light-hearted…lots of fun.”
New Orleans Times-Picayune
“Susan Kandel, who pulled off a remarkable link between past and present in her first mystery…does the same honorable and entertaining service in her second.”
Chicago Tribune
“Nail-biting…[with] some unexpected twists and turns.”
Denver Rocky Mountain News
“Nancy’s adventures were downright staid compared to Cece’s wild ones.”
Entertainment Weekly
“Fact-filled and funny…a worthy successor to Cece’s bright debut.”
Kirkus Reviews
The Cece Caruso Mysterie
by Susan Kandel
NOT A GIRL DETECTIVE
I DREAMED I MARRIED PERRY MASON
Forthcoming
SAM SPADE IN THE GREEN ROOM
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
NOT A GIRL DETECTIVE. Copyright © 2005 by Susan Kandel. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any
information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub © Edition JANUARY 2009 ISBN: 9780061973055
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