105 Stolen Affections

by Carolyn Keene

  Chapter One

  "I can't wait to see Kamla again," Nancy Drew said to her father, Carson, as they pulled into the parking lot of the River's Edge Day School. "She really loves her teaching job, and she credits you with getting it for her."

  Mr. Drew smiled. "That's complimentary, but not exactly true. All I did was see that her immigration status was in order. It was a nice change from the criminal work I usually do. She got the job on her own merits. She's a smart young woman." He reached over and patted his daughter's hand. "Like somebody else I know!"

  Nancy undid her seat belt and flipped her long reddish blond hair over her shoulder. "Does this look careerish enough for Career Day?" she asked her father as she got out of the car. Nancy was wearing a new electric blue linen suit that showed off her slim figure and highlighted her blue eyes. The short skirt and long one-button jacket were complemented with a matching silk blouse.

  She and her father had been invited to come to the school that afternoon to talk to the third-grade class. It was Career Day, an annual event in which prominent people from River Heights visited and discussed their occupations with the elementary school children.

  "You look perfect," said Carson, beaming at Nancy with pride. "I'm so glad you could come with me. I want the kids to know that teamwork is important. The best lawyer in the world can't win a case without someone like you researching the facts."

  They entered through the heavy double doors of the elegant private school, its red brick walls barely showing through the heavy covering of ivy. The school had once been the residence of a wealthy doctor in River Heights. Here, Kamla Chadi, a twenty-three-year-old native of Bombay, India, had obtained her first teaching position after graduating with honors from the University of Michigan with a degree in education.

  Nancy had met Kamla through Carson, and had introduced her to her friends Bess Marvin and George Fayne. Through the summer the three young women had included Kamla in some of their activities, taking her to the River Heights Street Fair and the raft races and waterskiing on the river. But when fail came, each had become busy with her own plans.

  Kamla met the Drews in the principal's office. She shook hands with Mr. Drew and gave Nancy a hug.

  She was dressed in her native sari, a length of cloth in bright reds and oranges that covered one shoulder and set off her dark hair and complexion. Her long hair was drawn back with a red silk scarf, and she wore delicate silver bangles on her wrists.

  "Thanks so much for coming," she said. "The children are very excited about meeting you." Kamla grinned and shook her head. "If only I could bottle their enthusiasm." Her dark eyes twinkled mischievously. "They just spent an hour with an accountant." She lowered her voice. "I don't think any of them are ready to choose that career! But they are really looking forward to meeting a criminal attorney and a private investigator." She turned to Nancy as they walked down the long hall to her classroom.

  "Are we still on for an early dinner tonight?"

  "Yes. George has my car today," Nancy replied. "She'll pick us up here at four."

  "Good thing," Kamla replied. "Mine can't be relied on to get us anywhere. I had to hitch a ride this morning. I'm furious at that mechanic at the garage. Three hundred dollars and it still won't run!" She dismissed the topic with a wave of her hand. "What about Bess? Will she join us?"

  Nancy shook her head. "No, Bess left for Florida yesterday to visit her aunt. Shell come back with a good tan, and we'll all be shivering."

  "And she'll have a new boyfriend to talk about," Kamla added, her eyes twinkling. "Bess falls in love very easily."

  "That she does," Nancy answered with a grin.

  The children were chattering excitedly when the trio entered Kamla's room. She held up her hand for silence, and immediately the room was quiet. Nancy could tell that the children loved and respected their teacher.

  Kamla's third-grade class was small—about fifteen students. Their desks were arranged in a circle, and two extra chairs had been added for Mr. Drew and Nancy. Kamla's desk, at the front of the room, was neatly stacked with papers.

  The time went quickly. After Carson and Nancy had explained their work, the children bombarded the father-daughter team with questions. Mr. Drew was asked about one of his more sensational cases—a robbery in which hostages had been taken—a case that had received a lot of publicity nationwide.

  One sandy-haired, stocky boy raised his hand. "Is a hostage like being kidnapped?" he asked.

  "Yes," Mr. Drew replied.

  The boy, freckle-faced and precocious, had asked several probing questions during the hour and appeared to be extremely bright.

  "I know about kidnapping," he volunteered.

  Carson smiled. "Good," he replied. "The more you know about it, the better." He looked at the eager faces around him. "How many of you know how to protect yourselves against kidnappers?"

  Hands shot up in the circle.

  "Don't get into a car with a stranger."

  "Don't talk to people you don't know."

  "Don't take candy from people."

  "Walk home from school with a friend."

  "Don't let strangers into your house."

  "Yell real loud."

  "Very good!" said Carson.

  The boy who had started the conversation put his chin in his hands and frowned, as if he was weighing the information.

  When the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, the children called out their thank-yous and filed out.

  Mr. Drew consulted his watch. "I think I may have enough time to get to the courthouse before it closes," he said. He looked over at Nancy. "Thanks for your help. I couldn't have held their attention without you. Are you sure George is coming to pick you up?"

  Nancy nodded. "Positive."

  "Okay," Mr. Drew said. "Then I'm on my way. Have a nice dinner, ladies."

  "We will," Kamla said. "Thanks for coming." She turned back to the room with a puzzled look on her face. "Jeremy," she said, "is something wrong?" The boy who had asked about kidnapping was still sitting at his desk.

  Jeremy grinned. "Nope. I had some questions for Nancy, but they're sort of private."

  "Oh," Kamla said in an understanding tone. "Fm sure Nancy won't mind answering your questions . . . but first, I'd better introduce you." She turned to Nancy. "This is Jeremy Wright. You may know his grandfather Edwin Wright. He's a prominent criminal attorney here in River Heights. Jeremy is living with his grandfather while his dad is on a scientific expedition in the Amazon."

  "I've heard my father speak of Edwin Wright," Nancy said. She held out her hand to Jeremy. "I'm pleased to meet you, Jeremy. What questions did you want to ask me?"

  "Well, I guess they're not really questions," he said. "But I didn't want to say anything in front of the other kids."

  "Say anything about what, Jeremy?" Nancy smiled at him as she sat down at the next desk.

  "Well, I mean it's all good stuff about not talking to strangers, and yelling loud, not opening the door, and not taking rides from people, but I'm not going to do any of those things, and I'm still going to be kidnapped. Really soon."

  Kamla stopped cleaning off her desk and walked over to Nancy and Jeremy. "Why do you think that, Jeremy?" she asked with concern.

  "Because I just know I am. Because I'm a good private investigator."

  "Remember what I said to the class?" Nancy said gently. "Private investigators deal with facts. Do you have any facts to prove that?"

  "I really do," Jeremy said. "I heard them planning it. None of the things you talked about is going to happen. No strangers, no candy, no cars. But it's really going to happen!"

  "Tell me more about this," Nancy said.

  Jeremy held up his hand to signal "s
top." "What's the password?" he asked.

  "What do you mean?"

  Jeremy gave her an I-can't-believe-you're-asking-me look. Patiently, he explained. "For access to the information superhighway, you need to give the password."

  "Oh, dear," Nancy said. "The password?"

  "That's it!" Jeremy shouted. "Password!" He leaned forward and whispered. "But it won't work the next time. The password keeps changing."

  "Okay," Nancy said. "I understand the need for secrecy. But I'm on the highway now, right? So you're going to give me the information."

  "Right!"

  Nancy heard the door open and glanced over. George had entered the room and was standing quietly by the door, not wanting to interrupt.

  But her appearance distracted Jeremy. He peered around Nancy and waved at the newcomer. "Hi," he yelled. "I'm Jeremy Wright."

  "Hi!" George replied. "I'm George Fayne."

  "But you're a girl," Jeremy said. "Girls aren't named George."

  "This one is," George replied, covering a grin with her hand. "Good to see you again," she said to Kamla. She lowered her voice. "Am I interrupting something?"

  Kamla shook her head. "No, it's okay," she said softly. "Jeremy had some questions for Nancy. I wouldn't be surprised if he's asked her for a job. He told me this morning he was already at work as a private eye!"

  "Sounds like a live wire to me," George said.

  Kamla was about to speak when Jeremy stood up and pushed some books into his backpack. "I've got to hurry," he said. "Darcy's waiting and she'll be mad."

  Kamla smiled. "See you tomorrow, Jeremy."

  "Okay," he replied brightly. "That is, if my grandfather doesn't have me kidnapped during the night!"

  Chapter Two

  Jeremy pushed open the door with his elbow and dashed down the hall, yelling, "Darcy-Arcy, wait for me!"

  "What was that about?" George asked Nancy.

  Nancy frowned. "I'm not sure," she replied.

  Kamla was standing rock-still, her face drained of color. "What did he tell you?" Kamla asked. "What did he say about his grandfather?"

  Nancy shrugged. "Just what you heard."

  "Overactive imagination?" George asked.

  "He's one of my brightest students," Kamla said. "Very creative." Her deep brown eyes looked worried. "But he usually creates stories in fantasy worlds—about monsters and robots. This is different. This is very real. And I don't think he's making it up."

  "Wright . . . Isn't he the kid with the biologist dad and the movie star mom?" George asked. "I read an article about the parents. They're divorced, right?"

  Kamla nodded. "Yes, that's the family."

  "Let's go," Nancy said. "We can talk about this at dinner. I'm starving!"

  At dinner, the girls chattered excitedly about their recent activities. The evening was fun, but Nancy could tell when they dropped Kamla at her apartment that she was still worried about Jeremy Wright.

  The next morning Nancy researched some records for her father at the courthouse and then went home for an early lunch. Hannah Gruen, the Drews' housekeeper, had gone shopping, so Nancy kicked off her shoes and sat in the kitchen, reading the paper and eating a sandwich and enjoying the quiet. It was so quiet, in fact, that when the phone rang, she jumped.

  "Kamla!" she said, after finding out who was calling. "Aren't you at school? What's wrong? Jeremy's not in class? Well, I'm sure there's a good explanation. Yes, I remember what he said yesterday, but that doesn't mean he's actually been kidnapped. Of course I'll help you check into it. Look, George and I will come by and pick you up after school. Okay, three-thirty in the parking lot."

  Nancy hung up the receiver and stared at the phone. She remembered that when she and her father had been guiding Kamla through the red tape for a work permit, once in a while Kamla would jump to an erroneous conclusion. But Nancy had never heard her friend sound panicky before.

  At 3:30 sharp, Nancy wheeled her blue Mustang into the lot at River's Edge Day School. She had picked up George and briefed her about Kamla's call on the way. It was a gorgeous bright and sunny March day, with the hint of a breeze and the promise of spring in the air.

  "You said yourself that she jumps to conclusions," George said. "And she seemed to be especially fond of Jeremy." She lifted her sunglasses and looked over at the entrance to the school. "Here she comes. What's she carrying? It looks like a billboard. And she doesn't seem upset—she's got a big smile on her face."

  Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. "Hi," she yelled, as Kamla approached the car. She was wearing a different sari under her coat, and Nancy thought of how the native dress made the tiny woman look exotic and just a bit mysterious. "You're feeling better." It was both a statement and a question.

  "A little," Kamla said, coming up to the driver's side. "I'm still worried about Jeremy, but look at what his classmates made for him. I said I'd deliver it after school." She held up a huge card made from two sheets of art board hinged together and decorated in vibrant colors, with Get Well, Jeremy!! in big letters on the front.

  "And look," she said, opening the card. Inside there were individual messages and pictures drawn by the children in her class.

  "Jeremy will love that!" Nancy exclaimed. "But tell me—is he sick?"

  "His grandfather called the office and said he had strep throat," Kamla replied. Her tone of voice suggested doubt. "He seemed perfectly well yesterday. Delivering the card will give me a chance to see for myself if he really is sick."

  "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about," Nancy said gently, "but that's a good way to ease your mind." She swung open the car door and took the keys from the ignition. "However, Ms. Chadi," she continued, smiling, "your humon-gous original piece of art will not fit in this car. Let's lay it down flat in the trunk."

  Kamla put the card in the trunk and climbed into the backseat. She leaned against the soft upholstery as Nancy expertly steered onto the main road and headed for the exclusive section of River Heights where Edwin Wright lived.

  "I'm glad I have you for friends," Kamla said. "Sometimes I get homesick for my family. Not that I don't love it here in the States," she added quickly. "I do. But sometimes I feel overwhelmed."

  "In what way?" George asked, turning in the front seat to look at Kamla.

  "Oh, just a pileup of various things," said Kamla, rolling her soft brown eyes and giving George a wry look. "My car isn't working, and now they say it will cost five hundred to repair. And I got a notice yesterday that my school loan payment was overdue . . . and now Jeremy's disappearance."

  "Well, you can't say he's disappeared until you're sure," Nancy chided her. "I know you're thinking about what he told you yesterday, but kids tend to make up stories. And anyway, Jeremy said his grandfather would kidnap him, but Jeremy's already staying with Mr. Wright."

  "I just don't think it's a story," Kamla said, with a sigh. "It could be a custody plot on Wright's part. Too often, people tend to discount what children say."

  "Not everyone," George protested.

  "No, but a lot of them do."

  Nancy pulled into the curving driveway in front of the Wright mansion and parked in front of the house. Immaculately groomed foliage surrounded the imposing red brick building. Shady oak trees and tall pines dotted the rolling lawns and neatly clipped hedges, and flower beds bordered the path to the house.

  "I think we took a wrong turn," George quipped. "This has got to be a national park."

  Nancy smiled. "It sure looks like it," she agreed. "Let's get the card out," she said to Kamla, patting her arm reassuringly.

  Kamla returned her smile. "Fll feel better the minute I see Jeremy," she said.

  The trio got out of the car, and Nancy opened the trunk so Kamla could retrieve the card.

  "Somebody's watching us," George said, frowning. "I saw a shadow at that front window."

  "Good," said Nancy. "That means somebody's home."

  They walked to the massive front door and rang the bell. The door opened in
stantly. A heavyset man, about fifty-five, with a ruddy face and gray-streaked sandy hair, stood in front of them.

  "What do you want?" the man asked. His tone was abrupt and uncordial. Kamla backed away a step.

  Nancy recognized Edwin Wright from seeing him at the courthouse.

  "Good afternoon, Mr. Wright," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Nancy Drew. This is my friend George Fayne . . . and I believe you know Jeremy's teacher, Ms. Chadi."

  Forced into shaking hands with Nancy, Wright mellowed a little and nodded abruptly at George, but he ignored Kamla completely.

  "Ms. Chadi has brought a gift for Jeremy from his classmates. A card that they made," Nancy continued. "May we see him?"

  Edwin Wright cleared his throat. "No, I'm afraid that won't be possible."

  "We'd just take a few minutes," Nancy persisted.

  "No, that's not possible," Edwin Wright repeated. "Jeremy is ill. He's sleeping. He has strep throat and a high fever, and Dr. McColl says he is not to have visitors."

  "But the card—" Nancy said.

  "I'll see that he gets the card," Wright said, reaching out and taking it from Kamla. "Thank you for your concern, Ms. Drew, Ms. Fayne. Goodbye." He firmly shut the oak door in their faces.

  "That man desperately needs to take a class in the social graces," George said, making a face at the closed door. "Talk about getting the bum's rush . . ."

  Nancy smiled at George's humor, but Kamla was standing rigid, staring at the door. "He wouldn't even acknowledge me," she said slowly. "I hate to think of Jeremy growing up in his house."

  "Well, he certainly wasn't the model of gra-ciousness," George said. "Why was he so rude to you?"

  "Because he knows I'm a friend of Jodi— Jeremy's mother."

  "Let's go and get something to eat, and we can talk about this," Nancy suggested.

  "Great idea," George said. "I do my best talking with food in front of me."

  "You poor, weak thing," Nancy replied, taking her arm. "May I help you to the car?"

  "Wait," Kamla said, smiling at their banter. "While we're here I want to check something." She walked around to the side of the mansion and stared up at the second story.