The Twin Dilemma

by Carolyn G. Keene

  “Oh! ” Nancy cried, quickly righting the glass, but not before several drops had trailed onto her lap. “Excuse me a moment,” she said, popping up to go to a powder room, while Mr. Reese stared dishearteningly at the water mark on the precious skirt.

  When Nancy emerged from the powder room, she did not return to the table right away. Instead, she wandered around until she finally saw Pete Grover and his companion again. Although their backs were to her, she could see their faces clearly in a panel of mirrors on the wall. The second man was Ted Henri, otherwise known as Chris Chavez! They were looking at their watches as if something were about to happen.

  Nancy pulled as close as she could without being observed by either of them, and tried to overhear their conversation. The din of voices in the room, however, seemed louder than ever; and all she was able to catch was Gramercy Park and the number “11.” Did it refer to an address or to the time?

  No further clarification came as the men were whisked onto the dance floor by two women friends. Nancy hurried back to the Reese table, but no one was there. She scanned the couples who were dancing but saw neither of her friends.

  “Where are they?” Nancy murmured, wishing she could tell Bess and George what she had learned.

  But they seemed to have disappeared, and in less than twenty minutes it would be eleven o‘clock, the hour when Nancy might find the solution to the puzzle. Instantly, she made her decision. She hurried to the check room to get her wrap and left a detailed message for the cousins, then darted out into the street and hailed a taxi.

  The snow that had fallen earlier had melted entirely, leaving only a light dampness underfoot, which Nancy appreciated as she reached Gramercy Park. She asked the driver to let her out in front of a building several doors away from Number 11, and stepped toward an opposite canopy.

  There, in the glow of a waning moon and a street lamp, she fixed her eyes on Number 11. She noticed a shadowy figure in the second-floor windows. It moved out of sight, emerging shortly in the doorway downstairs.

  It was Rosalind, Mr. Reese’s stylist!

  17

  A Four-Handed Ruse

  A cold wind penetrated Nancy’s cloak as she watched the woman in the doorway, who seemed to be waiting for someone. Then, as if in answer to the girl detective’s curiosity, a taxi pulled up to Number 11 and Mr. Belini, the owner of the fabric store, stepped out.

  At the same time Nancy noticed a van parked down the street. Its lights flashed on and off and the vehicle crawled toward the building. But the dimness of the street lamps prevented her from seeing the driver and the person sitting next to him.

  On a hunch Nancy pulled the collar of her cloak high around her neck and darted to a nearby corner, circling to the back of the van as Belini moved in and out of the doorway. Her heart thumping in panic, the girl dived into the shadow of the adjoining building to watch.

  Rosalind seemed to have vanished, but Belini hurried to the vehicle’s rear doors. He opened one, revealing a rack of dresses covered in plastic. If only Nancy could get a closer look!

  Belini poked his head deeper into the van, running through the dresses as if he were counting them. He shook his head and ran into the building once more, leaving the door ajar.

  Nancy instantly raced forward, grabbing a plastic bag and pulling it into the light. As she had suspected, the gown inside was one that had been stolen the night of the benefit fashion show!

  Before she could inspect the rest, however, the door opened again and she heard Belini’s voice. She leaped into the van, grateful that the engine was running and muffled any noise she made.

  Belini walked over to the van, then stopped to talk to the driver. This gave Nancy enough time to hide behind the rack. To her relief, there was a partition between the front and rear of the small vehicle, so no one could see her unless the dresses were removed.

  Yet she had little breathing space, and the garments surrounding her created a warmth that was uncomfortable, almost suffocating.

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea,” Nancy murmured, realizing she was trapped!

  But there was no time to change her mind as the wheels of the van began to move under her!

  By now Bess and George had met two young men who introduced themselves as Woody Haskins and Frank Vanderveer. Both looked to be in their twenties, and told the girls that their parents were in the clothing business. They had lived in New York City all their lives.

  “And where are you two from?” Woody inquired.

  “River Heights,” Bess replied. “Home of the famous Nancy Drew.”

  “Oh, yes. She’s an amateur detective,” Woody said. Then he whirled Bess onto the dance floor.

  “Hm-hm. So am I,” Bess told him.

  “You solve mysteries, too?” Frank asked George. He was tall and seemed reserved like her friend, Burt Eddleton, which made the girl relax almost immediately.

  “Oh, we all do,” she said brightly, as the music picked up tempo.

  The beat was faster now, and the couples fell apart from each other for the duration of the dance. Afterwards, their escorts took the girls to the buffet for a snack. When they returned to their table, Bess and George suddenly realized that Nancy hadn’t come back yet.

  Vaguely uneasy, they wondered what had happened to her. Bess nudged George. “We’ve been having such a good time that we forgot all about our best friend!” she whispered. “Where do you think Nancy went?”

  “I don’t know,” George said, “but I think we ought to go looking for her.”

  The girls excused themselves and moved off, but neither of their escorts was ready to release them so quickly. The music had started again, and Frank and Woody ran after Bess and George, begging for another dance.

  “But we can’t stay!” Bess insisted as Woody tugged on her hand, pulling her back on the floor.

  “Why not? Do you turn into a pumpkin at eleven o‘clock?” The young man laughed, causing a tiny grin to wrinkle the girl’s face.

  “No, but we really do have to leave,” Bess declared and motioned to George, who looked forlornly at her date.

  When the foursome stood together again, the young men continued to plead. “You came here to enjoy yourselves, didn’t you?” Frank asked. “Why do you want to go home so early?”

  “Well, we’re not going home,” George said. “We’re investigating something.”

  “Tonight?” Woody and Frank chorused.

  “We’ll go with you,” the latter volunteered.

  “Oh, no!” Bess exclaimed. “It’s nice of you to offer, but—”

  “Then it’s all settled,” Frank put in. “Now tell us, what are you looking for?”

  “Our friend Nancy,” George said.

  “Describe her,” Frank went on. “Then we’ll fan out and search. Afterwards, we’ll meet at your table.”

  Bess and George were glad to have help, but when they rejoined their dates fifteen minutes later, no one had seen Nancy.

  “Maybe she left the party,” Woody suggested.

  “Let’s see if her cloak is still in the check-room,” George replied.

  Upon questioning the woman in charge, the girls were given Nancy’s message.

  “We ought to go there at once,” Frank spoke up. “Get a taxi, Woody.”

  In the cab, Bess whispered to George, “I’m glad we have a couple of strong men with us!”

  “Just hope we find Nancy!” George said.

  By the time they climbed out of the taxi at Gramercy Park, most lights had been turned out in the various buildings and Number 11 seemed unoccupied.

  “Maybe Nancy gave up on whatever she was looking for and went home,” Woody suggested.

  “Nancy? Give up? Never!” Bess said.

  She and George hurried ahead of the men toward the iron fence that framed the park area itself, thinking they had heard someone crying. But as they drew near, they realized it was only the whine of a small puppy.

  “Where could Nancy have gone?” Bess wai
led.

  She and George roamed close to the fence, peering at the blackness beyond, half wondering if Nancy had been abducted and taken to some forsaken area of the city.

  As they returned to their escorts, who had remained near the entrance to Number 11, the cousins glimpsed something shiny in the street.

  It was Nancy’s earring!

  “It’s crushed,” George said, examining it.

  “Maybe a car rolled over it,” Frank commented.

  “Maybe one that kidnapped her!” Bess exclaimed in fright.

  As she spoke, the window above slid open and a woman addressed the foursome. The cousins looked up to see who it was, but the speaker pulled back as a waft of cold air drifted in.

  “I believe the girl you are looking for is here,” she called out.

  “Is that you, Rosalind?” George said, thinking she recognized the voice.

  But there was no reply, only a halting cough.

  “Should we go up?” Bess asked.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Woody said.

  “Yeah, we’re with you,” his friend added.

  Even so, the girls wondered if the invitation was a sinister ruse. If Nancy were being held captive inside, the cousins might be stepping into the same carefully laid trap!

  “Come on,” Woody urged, leading the way into the dim corridor. “We have to find Nancy!”

  Bess, George, and Frank followed. The sounds of their footsteps on the stairway echoed loudly through the empty building, and the girls shivered when Woody banged his fist on the door. Tensely, they waited for the woman to open it!

  18

  Escort Accomplices

  Almost at once the door swung open, but no one was immediately visible in the plainly furnished room. Bess and George stepped inside, calling, “Nancy?”

  “Maybe we’re in the wrong—” George started to say when several hands grabbed her and Bess from behind and pushed them toward the opposite wall. Each had a hand clasped over their eyes, so they could not see their attackers.

  “Help!” the cousins shrieked as they were shoved into a closet. A moment later, a key turned in the lock.

  “Let us out of here!” Bess cried.

  “They must have jumped Frank and Woody, too,” George said, pressing her ear against the closet door. “I don’t hear anything.”

  Bess listened also, but the room seemed vacant. Had their attackers subdued the two young men and taken them away, leaving the girls trapped in the stuffy closet?

  “I think I’m going to faint,” Bess murmured, swaying back against George.

  “You can’t pass out now!” the other girl exclaimed. She was ready to hurl herself full force into the door, but stopped as footsteps echoed outside.

  Were their captors returning?

  The cousins remained quiet, feeling a sudden fierce shiver pulse up their spines. George quickly squatted to the keyhole. It afforded only a partial view of the room, but enough to establish the identity of those in it.

  Woody and Frank! She gasped.

  Was it possible that she and Bess had been tricked by the young men? Had they used their charm to imprison the girls?

  “What do you see?” Bess whispered.

  “Sh—” her cousin said, pressing her ear under the knob to listen to the conversation.

  “We’ll keep them here until we get rid of the third one,” George heard Woody say.

  “Where is she?” Frank asked.

  “In the van,” Woody replied. Apparently, she found it parked out front and walked right in. They caught her hiding behind the dresses.”

  Bess tapped on George’s shoulder, begging to be told something, but George shook her head. She didn’t want to miss anything that was being said.

  “Rozzie wants us to meet her at the pier in an hour or so,” Frank spoke up again, but the rest of his sentence became unintelligible as he pulled a cellophane wrapper off a cigar and crumpled it.

  George was positive that “the third one” referred to Nancy, and that Rozzie was Rosalind, the stylist at Reese Associates. Had she reconciled herself to the designer merely because she needed continuing access to him? That seemed to be the case.

  “Reese never should’ve fired Paula Jenner,” Frank said, puffing on the cigar. “Those two sisters are real soul mates.”

  Now there was a lull as Frank strode toward the closet, letting the pungent smoke clog the keyhole.

  “You alive in there?” he called out sarcastically. “Sorry we had to do this, girls.”

  The cousins did not answer, and George confirmed to Bess that the speaker had been her escort, Frank. The blond girl felt like crying, but George gripped her arm and motioned for her to listen.

  The men, however, made only one other vague reference to the last pier at the West Side docks.

  “On second thought,” Woody’s voice came again, “let’s take a ride up there now. These two aren’t going anywhere.”

  “They’re leaving!” George whispered.

  She waited until she was sure the men were out of the building, then leaned her weight against the door and flung herself back and forth several times, hoping to force the lock. It held firm, though, and the searing pain that drove through George’s shoulder brought her to a halt.

  “I’ll do it,” Bess said.

  With determination, she plunged ahead, hitting the door hard. It didn’t open, but it had weakened.

  “I knew these few extra pounds would come in handy someday,” Bess quipped, crashing forward again.

  This time the tumblers snapped.

  “You’re fabulous!” George complimented her cousin as they raced down the stairs and out into the moistening air.

  They dashed to a corner where passing cars were visible and quickly hailed a taxi.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  “The last pier at the West Side docks,” George said.

  “The what?” the man gulped. “It’s a little late to go swimming, isn’t it?”

  The cousins were not in the mood for small talk, but listened courteously as the driver continued.

  “No boats leaving now, either,” he said. “You girls ought to go home.”

  “I wish we could,” Bess murmured, as a chilling breeze swept through the window crack.

  “Just be glad we’re out of that closet,” George whispered.

  “And into a frying pan?” her cousin said.

  By now, the driver had guided the cab around the park and was heading across town. He kept his pace moderate, giving his passengers time to plot their moves.

  “What do we do if one of us gets caught?” Bess asked her cousin.

  “You mean by Frank or Woody?”

  “Or by anybody else,” Bess replied.

  “Then the other one hops in this cab and takes off for the police station.”

  “Maybe we should do that now,” Bess said.

  “I considered it,” George said, “but I really doubt we’d be able to convince an officer to come with us. He’d probably think we’re just a couple of kooky teenagers.”

  “How could he?” Bess said, glancing at the taffeta dress that showed through her coat. “I think we look rather sophisticated.”

  “Well, that may be so, but New York isn’t River Heights where everybody including Chief McGinnis knows us.”

  George’s remark only reinforced her cousin’s anxiety as the taxi looped in the direction of the Hudson River.

  “It’s pitch black out there!” Bess exclaimed.

  “Sure you gals really want me to drop you at the pier?” the driver said shortly.

  “If you don’t mind,” George replied, “we’d like you to wait.”

  “How long?” he asked.

  “It depends,” Bess put in.

  “On what?”

  “On what we find, of course.”

  “Hmm. Maybe you ought to tell me what you’re looking for first.”

  “We’re looking for our friend,” George revealed. “She was
kidnapped and we think she’s been taken to this pier.”

  The man glanced at her sharply for a moment. “And you’re going to play big shots and rescue her, eh? If what you tell me is true, why didn’t you call the cops?”

  “I’m afraid they wouldn’t have believed us,” George said lamely.

  “Right. They wouldn‘t, and neither do I.”

  George and Bess did not comment, and again the driver took his eyes off the street to stare at them. “Where are you from?” he inquired.

  “River Heights.”

  “Just arrived?”

  “No. We were at the Crystal Party and that’s where our friend disappeared,” Bess said.

  The driver mumbled something as he drew up closer to the last pier building. It had a bleak, eerie atmosphere. An ice floe rocked against the dock, and except for the hazy glow of the moon, the area lay in frigid darkness.

  “I guess I can’t really drop you off here and leave you alone,” the driver relented finally. “But it’ll cost you to keep the meter running.”

  “That’s all right. And thanks,” George said, as a chugging sound from the river caused Bess to roll down her window all the way.

  “Who’d be out on the river at this time of night?” she asked. The cab moved forward slowly.

  “Maybe they’re transporting stolen dresses somewhere,” George suggested excitedly, and asked the driver to turn off his headlights.

  “Oh, now we’re playing cops and robbers in the dark!” he grumbled, but complied with the request.

  For a moment, everyone listened as the chugging sound of the boat diminished to a low, even hum.

  “It’s gone,” Bess declared at last. “We’ll probably never know what it was here for. Maybe we ought to go back to Aunt Eloise’s.”

  “Good idea,” the driver agreed, glancing at the number on his meter. “I can think of better ways to make money!”

  He pressed the accelerator lightly and switched on the headlights again. As he swung the cab away from the building, the cousins caught sight of a van parked by a wire fence alongside the pier. A blue car stood behind it.

  “Oh, please pull up farther,” George begged.

  “By that van?” the driver asked.