“Sorry,” Nancy answered. “But it’s really necessary for me to work there—the case is centered there. I know it. But I don’t think Laurie wants to know if Jon’s really up to something.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“I tried,” Nancy answered, “but she isn’t home. I asked Mrs. Weaver to have her call me when she gets back.”
“Maybe Laurie will keep your secret,” Ned speculated. “Maybe she figures Jon doesn’t have anything to hide.”
“I wish that were true,” Nancy said.
“How about going out to lunch with me?” Ned asked, changing the subject. “I could use a break from the insurance business.”
Nancy chuckled. “You could apply for a job at Moves,” she suggested.
“Let’s talk about it over lunch,” Ned came back good-naturedly. “I’ll pick you up in three hours.”
He arrived at Nancy’s house with a picnic basket in the back of his car. They drove to the park and spent a happy afternoon laughing and talking together. By the time Ned brought her home again, Nancy felt refreshed.
After unsuccessfully trying Laurie again, Nancy showered, changed her clothes, and drove to
Moves for her six-o’clock shift. Pam Hastings met her just inside the club.
There was an unpleasant gleam in Pam’s eyes. “Jon wants to see you in his office immediately,” she said.
This is it, Nancy thought. As of right now, no more sleuthing.
When she knocked at the door of Jon’s office, it was Laurie’s voice that called out a weary “Come in.”
Nancy entered, braced for an explosion, but Jon only looked up from the stack of papers he was going through and smiled.
“I’d like you to do me a favor, if you would,” he said, handing over a set of keys.
Not knowing what else to do, Nancy accepted them. She tried to catch Laurie’s eye, but Laurie wouldn’t look at her.
Nancy turned her attention back to Jon. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’d like you to run over to my place and pick up some papers—”
“I could do that,” Laurie broke in, giving Nancy a defiant look.
“I know,” Jon said patiently. “But I have some friends coming in a few minutes, and I want you to meet them.”
Although Laurie looked reluctant, she didn’t say anything else, and Jon turned his attention
back to Nancy. “I can spare you because you’re still new,” he explained. “And I really need these papers. The only time I could arrange a meeting with my accountant was after the club closes.” He paused to glance at his watch. “I live at six fourteen Sycamore Street, number forty-eight. They should be in the top drawer of my desk, in a brown mania envelope.”
Nancy’s heart was beating a touch faster than usual. Jon didn’t know it, but he was actually inviting her to search his apartment. She glanced at Laurie to see if she’d stop her.
When Laurie didn’t say anything, Nancy turned and walked out the door.
She paused in the hallway, just out of sight, and listened as Laurie said, “Why do you trust Nancy when you hardly know her?”
Nancy held her breath, waiting for the answer.
It came quickly. “I have no reason not to trust her, do I?” he asked in a. mid voice.
Laurie deliberated for what seemed an eternity to Nancy. “I guess not,” she finally said.
Nancy silently thanked her friend for not giving her away and hurried out to the parking lot. Jon could be suspicious if she was gone too long.
The building was modest and ordinary, a brick structure probably twenty or thirty years old. Nancy was a little surprised—somehow she had expected Jon to live someplace more glamorous.
Wasting no time, she took the elevator to the fourth floor, and apartment number 48, She let herself in with Jon’s key.
Nancy looked quickly around the living room, which seemed only partially furnished. There were no pictures on the walls, no books, no mementoes on the mantel above the fireplace. The couch looked as though it might have come from a cheap rental place or a thrift shop. There was nothing personal about the apartment—it might have been a shabby hotel room, rather than someone’s home.
After glancing into the kitchen, Nancy walked into Jon’s bedroom, which doubled as an office. An old easy chair, an army surplus desk, and a dented file cabinet sat clustered to one side of the room. The effect was bleak.
Nancy found Jon’s manila envelope right off. She looked inside, but as she had guessed, it contained nothing more than receipts and register tapes from Moves. She was looking for something more. She went quickly and skillfully through the other papers on the desk.
After about five minutes of methodical searching, Nancy located a half-finished letter.
Dear Uncle Mike,
Everybody reaches a place in their life where they need a second chance. If you
won’t help me convince your friends to give me just a little more time, I don’t know what I’m going to do. You’re the only one I can count on.
There, the letter ended.
Nancy put it back in the exact position she’d found it and continued with her search. Her mind was trying to piece, together what she’d learned. From the tone of that letter, Nancy guessed that Jon owed some men money, and that he was afraid of what they might do if he didn’t pay them promptly.
Nancy went back to her work. In the bottom of the file cabinet, tucked away in the back, she found a package of pink envelopes that smelled vaguely of perfume.
Kneeling, Nancy removed the rubber band that bound them together and pulled out a letter.
It was a long and flowery expression of love, filled with dreams of an upcoming marriage. It was signed, “All my love forever, Sheila.”
“Sheila,” Nancy mused aloud. She hadn’t heard Jon or anyone mention that name. She skimmed a few more’ letters and noticed that there was a two-year gap between a couple of them. Apparently, there had been a lapse in Sheila’s devotion.
The telephone rang, startling Nancy. She put
the letters back in their hiding place, in the same order, wrapped in the same rubber band. Before she could decide whether or not to answer the phone, the ringing stopped. An answering machine had come on, and Jon’s recorded voice filled the room.
There was a beep before she heard him say, “Nancy? If you’re still there, will you please get on the phone?”
Nancy drew a deep breath and reached out for the receiver. “Hello, Jon,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. Inside, she felt shaken as though she’d been caught.
“Hi,” Jon said. He didn’t sound angry or even the least bit suspicious. “Did you find the papers?”
“Yes,” Nancy managed to answer. Her heart was pounding. Even though Jon couldn’t see her, she felt as though she’d been caught. “I’ll be right back. I was just heading out the door.”
She waited for him to say that the errand seemed to be taking a long time. Instead, he said, “Good. It’s starting to get busy and the other waitresses are complaining.”
“I’ll hurry,” Nancy promised. She hung up, grabbed the papers, and left.
When Nancy reached Moves, things were already jumping. The music was wild and loud, and the dance floor was filling up.
Jon’s backup deejay was in the sound booth, so Nancy went back to Jon’s office, the envelope under her arm. She rapped lightly at the door.
“Come in,” she heard a weary, discouraged voice say.
Nancy stepped inside to find Jon sitting behind his desk. There was no sign of Laurie. “Here are the papers you wanted,” Nancy said, laying the manila envelope and keys down in front of her boss.
Jon didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry to open the envelope. He just looked at it dully.
“Thanks,” he said with a long sigh.
“I’d better get to work,” Nancy replied.
Jon only nodded, staring off into space. He looked worried, but that was no surprise to Nancy, considering what she’d learned from that partially finished letter he’d written to an uncle. He owed money to the wrong people, and he didn’t know how he was going to pay.
Nancy waited tables until the club closed. Then, as she was leaving, she decided to ask George and Bess to meet her back at her house, to get their advice about the case. Nancy knew Ned had to work the next day and didn’t bother him. For once, Nancy seemed to have too many clues and not enough theories.
• • •
“Well, I’ve had a productive evening,” she told her two friends after they were settled in with a
late-night snack of soft drinks and pizza. She told them about the errand she had had to run for Jon.
George looked surprised. “Wow! So you had a chance to check out his place.”
“Yeah. But I’m not sure why he really sent me,” Nancy mused. She shook her head. “It was all very weird.”
Bess was practically falling out of her chair with impatience. “So what did you find?” she demanded.
Nancy helped herself to another bite of pizza and chewed and swallowed before answering. “Well, I found some letters—love letters from somebody named Sheila. She wrote faithfully for months, but, according to the dates, stopped writing for about two years. Then just recently, she started again, as if nothing had happened.”
“Was there anything important about the letters?” George wanted to know.
Nancy shrugged. “Not unless I missed something. Whoever Sheila is, though, she and Jon must have been serious about each other. She talked about how much she loved him and how she couldn’t wait to be his wife.”
“Maybe he’s married!” Bess cried suddenly. “Oh, poor Laurie—she’s so crazy about this guy and he turns out to be a married man!”
George rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you jumping to conclusions here?” she asked. “There’s no proof
Jon and Sheila ever got married. She’s still writing to him, which should indicate just the opposite.”
Bess subsided. “Well, it’s possible,” she insisted stubbornly.
Nancy continued going over the facts of the case. “Jon’s got a police record. He owes some. body money, and he needs more time to come up with it—”
George interrupted. “Wait a minute. What’s this about him owing someone money?”
Nancy quickly explained about Jon’s unfinished letter to his uncle Mike.
Bess ticked the facts off on her fingers. “He’s a crook, “the Mob is out to get him, and somebody named Sheila wrote Mm a stack of mushy letters.”
“Letters he valued enough to keep,” George mused, frowning.
“We aren’t getting anywhere with this,” Bess said, and much as Nancy hated to admit it, she knew her friend was right. She’d gathered together several pieces to the puzzle, but none of them fit.
“1 know this much,” Nancy said. “I’ve got to talk to Laurie the first chance I get.”
“Are you going to warn her to stay away from Jon?” Bess asked.
Nancy sighed. “I think I’d better tell her what I know, at least. And I want to ask her a few
questions to find out what she knows. She’s been hiding something from me all along.”
George nodded and closed the lid on the empty pizza box. “We could help you out, if you want,” she offered. George was always volunteering Bess for things, but her pretty blond cousin didn’t seem to mind.
Nancy shook her head. “Thanks, but there’s no sense in getting her mad at all three of us. I’ll take care of it.”
• • •
Laurie didn’t return any of Nancy’s calls the next day. Finally, Nancy drove over to the Weavers’. She was determined to get through to Laurie somehow.
When Nancy arrived, she found Laurie sitting on the porch, all dressed up. She was wearing a, sleeveless, V-necked dress made from the most delicate pink silk Nancy had ever seen.
“Hi,” Nancy said.
For a moment she didn’t think Laurie was going to speak to her but, finally, she said, “Hello, Nancy. What are you doing here?”
“You and I have to talk,” Nancy told her.
Laurie looked past Nancy to the big circular driveway, then glanced down at her expensive watch. “Sorry,” she said coolly. “No time. I have a date.”
Nancy sighed. “We’ve known each other a long time, Laurie.”
“Then you should know if I asked you to stop doing something, you should trust my judgment,” Laurie said accusingly. “Instead, you go sneaking around behind my boyfriend’s back. Don’t think I don’t know why you wormed your way into that job at Moves, Nancy!”
Nancy was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You didn’t tell Jon that I’m a detective, did you?”
Laurie refused to look at Nancy, but she shook her head. “No. I didn’t tell.”
“Why not?” Nancy asked softly.
“Because I knew you wouldn’t find out anything bad about Jon.”
“I did, though, Laurie,” Nancy said. “Did you know he has a police record?”
Color pulsed in Laurie’s cheeks. “Shhh!” she said angrily. “If my parents hear about that, they’ll have a fit!”
I was right, Nancy thought, without satisfaction. She does know a few things about Jon’s past. “Doesn’t it bother you that Jon is a convicted felon?” she persisted, keeping her voice down.
“He’s changed,” Laurie insisted. “Besides, he’s paid for his crime. He was in jail for two years.”
That accounted for the time between Sheila’s letters, Nancy reflected. Either he hadn’t been able to keep them, or she’d stopped writing while he was in prison.
“I think Jon might be in deep trouble,” Nancy went on gently. “I know he needs money. And your family has it. Laurie, have you ever thought that he could be using you? He could be planning—”
“I don’t want to hear this!” Laurie cried, clasping her hands over her ears and walking around the side of the house.
Nancy followed her, but there was no way she could force Laurie to listen.
“He’s coming here tonight,” Laurie said after taking a moment to calm down. “He’s going to have dinner with us and get to know my parents better, and I won’t let anybody spoil this evening—including you, Nancy.”
Nancy sighed. There was no point in trying to convince Laurie that Jon Villiers might be bad news. She said goodbye to her friend and was just turning to walk away when the sprinkler system came on.
Behind her, Nancy heard Laurie scream. She turned to see Laurie standing absolutely still, helpless and drenched. Her silk outfit appeared to be ruined by the water. Nancy grabbed her arm, and they both dashed out of range of the sprinklers.
“What—” Laurie was practically speechless.