Chapter Eleven
"NANCY, IT LOOKS like you're fresh out of suspects," Ned said as he got behind the wheel of the Corvette, and Nancy climbed into the passenger side.
"It's driving me nuts!" Nancy pounded her fist on the dashboard in frustration. "If Glenn didn't attack Shannon, then who did?"
"Nan, did you ever stop to think her attack might have been a random act of violence? Unfortunately, it happens all the time, no matter how exclusive the area is. Obviously, Sound-view is no exception."
Nancy shook her head. "Normally I'd agree with you, but there are too many elements of this case that I don't believe are random or coincidental. I plan on finding out who attacked Shannon if it's the last thing I do."
"Why?" Ned put his arm around her shoulders. "Take it easy, Nan. This really isn't your problem, you know. You're not the detective on this case. It was one thing when we thought Angela or Rafe might have been involved, but now we know they're not. Shannon may have been a threat to Angela before, but she isn't anymore, and the wedding's back on. How about concentrating on being a bridesmaid from now on and letting the cops take it from here?"
"I guess my ego's a little bruised," Nancy confessed. "I just can't believe I can't unravel this one. But you're right—it's up to the cops to discover who tried to murder Shannon Mul-cahey." She sighed. "I can't help feeling sorry for Shannon, but I certainly am thankful that it wasn't Angela we found."
"When I first saw the body, I was sure it was Angie," Ned said. "They were both wearing black coats last night, and they're about the same height and build. I bet if you saw them together from the back, it would be hard to tell one from the other. I guess Rafe really goes for small, dark-haired girls." He pulled Nancy closer and murmured in her ear, "Personally, I prefer tall, beautiful blonds."
Nancy stiffened. "What did you just say?"
"Fishing for compliments, huh?" Ned teased. "I said I prefer—"
"Not that. What was it you said about Angela and Shannon?"
"You mean that from the back it would be hard to tell one from the other?''
"That's it," Nancy whispered. "And on a dark, moonless night it would be almost impossible. Oh, Ned, what if that's what happened? What if whoever attacked her made a mistake, and it was Angela, not Shannon, who was supposed to be the victim?"
"I hate to say this, Nan, but I think you might be overthinking this," Ned said. "Angela's only enemy was Shannon. She was the one who sent her all that junk—the china, the clipping, and the letter—and messed up the straps of her saddle girth."
"We can't be sure about the girth," Nancy objected. "When Angela accused her last night. Shannon said she didn't know anything about it, remember? Why would she have denied that when she actually boasted about being responsible for the other incidents?"
"Well, maybe because fiddling with someone's saddle with the intent to hurt them crosses the line into criminal behavior. But, frankly, right now, I'm too tired to care."
Ned removed his arm from around her and started the car. As he pulled away from the curb and drove down the street, he said, "We're both pretty strung out. It's been a rough night, and neither of us has had a whole lot of sleep in the past forty-eight hours. I don't know about you, but my brain's not firing on all cylinders right now. Let's just get something to eat and catch some zees, okay?"
Nancy was exhausted and hungry, too, but on the way back to Soundview her brain, unlike Ned's, was working overtime. If the target of Shannon's would-be murderer had indeed been Angela, he must have discovered his mistake by now. With no evidence to connect him to the crime, Nancy figured he wouldn't hesitate to strike again, and that meant that Angela was still in grave danger. She was more determined than ever to discover that person's identity, with Ned's help or without it.
When they arrived at the house, Nancy saw an unfamiliar car was parked on the circular drive. "Oh, no!" Nancy exclaimed as she noted the license plate. "That's a doctor's license plate" she said to Ned. "Something terrible must have happened."
Parker let them in. In response to her anxious question, he replied, "I'm sorry to tell you that Mrs. Tremain collapsed shortly after breakfast. Miss Drew. Miss Angela called Dr. Harvey, and the doctor is with Mrs. Tremain now."
"But last night at the dance, she seemed so much better," Nancy said.
Parker nodded sadly. "I'm sure you and Mr. Nickerson remember as well as we do what she was like before she became ill—so active, so full of energy, and now . . . " For an instant the butler's composure faltered, but he quickly recovered. After taking their coats, he said, "Mr. Tremain and Miss Angela have already eaten, but Mr. Tremain instructed me to tell the cook when you returned. I will do so at once. If you will proceed to the breakfast room, brunch will be ready momentarily."
Nancy and Ned were soon served eggs Benedict, freshly squeezed orange juice, fruit compote, and steaming hot coffee. Although the meal was delicious and they were both starving, they were both too worried about Felicia to appreciate it.
Nancy was also concerned about Angela. She was convinced that their friend's life was in danger, but the pieces of the puzzle she'd assembled so far didn't form a picture that made any sense.
Who aside from Shannon stood to benefit from Angela's death? There had to be someone else, someone whose motives Nancy knew nothing about. . . .
Alice, one of the maids, came into the room, interrupting her thoughts. "Miss Drew, your father is on the line." She held out a cordless phone.
Nancy had forgotten that when she had spoken to her father before she left for New York, he'd said he would call her on Sunday. Maybe he cx)uld shed some light on the situation.
"Thank you, Alice.'' She took the phone, *'Hi, Dad. How are things in Seattle?"
"Wet," her father grumbled. "It's been raining ever since I got here. I think I'm developing a case of terminal mildew. The trial is proceeding fairly rapidly, however. With any luck, I should be able to make Angela's wedding. What about you, Nancy? Are you and Ned having fun?"
Nancy grimaced. ''Fun isn't exactly the word for it. Dad. Things have been pretty hairy since we got here."
When she had finished giving him a brief rundown of the events of the past few days, Mr. Drew said, "I see what you mean. Since the Mulcahey girl can't be considered a suspect any longer, what other leads are you pursuing?"
"I've been trying to figure out who else might have a reason for wanting Angela out of the way, and as you know, greed is one of the strongest motives of all," Nancy replied. "Angela comes into her inheritance from her father next month when she turns twenty-one. I know you and Gordon Chamberlain were close friends. Did he ever happen to mention who would benefit if Angela died before her twenty-first birthday?"
"As a matter of fact, he did, but Fm afraid it won't be of any use to you," her father said. "In that case, Angela's inheritance passes to her mother."
Nancy sighed. "You're right. That doesn't get me anywhere."
They talked for a few more minutes. Then Mr. Drew rang off, and Nancy set the cordless phone down on the table.
"What did your dad say?" Ned asked.
"Well, he didn't have any helpful information about Mr. Chamberlain's will. He said in the event of Angela's death, the inheritance would go to Angela's mother. But even if Mrs. Tre-main wasn't so ill, she'd be above suspicion, don't you think?"
"Absolutely," Ned agreed.
Nancy rubbed her forehead. Her head was throbbing as though it were about to split in two. In spite of the coffee she had drunk, a wave of exhaustion passed over her, and she slumped in a chair.
Ned got up and pulled her to her feet. "Come on. Nan. Time to catch those zees. If we don't get some sleep, we're both going to be basket cases—and no use to Angela or anyone else."
Nancy was too tired to argue. Her sleepless nights and frantic days had finally caught up with her, and the thought of falling into bed, if only for a little while, was irresistible. After a brief doze, she would focus all her energies on tracking down Angela's unk
nown enemy, even though, with Shannon out of the picture, it meant starting over from scratch.
As Nancy and Ned left the breakfast room, they ran into Mr. Tremain, who had just seen Dr. Harvey to the door. He told them that according to the doctor, there was no cause for alarm. Fehcia had simply overtaxed her strength by attending the dinner dance. She was resting comfortably now, and Angela, relieved that her mother was feeling better, had gone to bed also. He asked about what had happened at the police station.
"Nothing," Ned replied. "Nothing that did any good, anyway.''
"An ofl&cer took our statement, but it turns out that Glenn Maclnnes totaled his truck right after he drove away from the club last night," Nancy added. "He was taken straight to the hospital, so he couldn't have been responsible for the attack on Shannon."
"So you're saying that whoever attacked her is still at large?" Mr. Tremain asked. "That is distressing. Let's hope the police find the attacker before someone else is hurt. Well, Nancy, at least you and Ned have the satisfaction of knowing you've done everything you could to discover his identity."
Nancy shook her aching head. "Not yet, but I will. You see, Mr. Tremain, Fve come to the conclusion that we've been barking up the wrong tree. I believe it was Angela who was supposed to be the victim, and I intend to prove it by shifting the focus of my investigation to any enemies Angela might have."
"Angela has no enemies!" Mr. Tremain said sharply. "That's nonsense!" Then his tone softened. "Forgive me, Nancy. I didn't mean to snap at you, but it seems a bit far-fetched that Shannon was attacked by somebody who thought she was Angela."
"I'm inclined to agree with you, sir," Ned admitted with an apologetic glance at Nancy.
"In my opinion. Shannon Mulcahey was probably a victim of the ugly random violence that is all too common these days," Mr. Tremain went on. "Even in an exclusive area like this, no one is completely safe. I understand that some very undesirable characters-— drifters, homeless people—have been spotted around the village recently. Unfortunately, even if the girl eventually comes to, she probably won't be able to identify her assailant since she was struck from behind. I'm sure our local police will do everything they can, but it's possible that the culprit will never be found."
Nancy listened to Mr. Tremain through a fog of weariness. Although she remained unconvinced, she was too tired to argue with her host or with Ned. She just murmured something noncommittal and plodded up the stairs to her room.
Without even bothering to take off her clothes, Nancy flopped down on the bed. But exhausted though she was, she couldn't fall asleep immediately. Something was bothering her, something she had seen or heard that didn't ring true, but she was much too groggy to figure out what it was.
Chapter Twelve
NANCY WOKE UP two hours later, feeling refreshed after a deep, dreamless sleep. Looking out one of her bedroom windows, she saw that heavy clouds had gathered overhead, promising more snow. It would be a white Christmas for sure, but not a merry one if what she suspected was true and Angela's life was still in danger.
As she splashed cold water on her face and combed her tangled hair, Nancy's thoughts kept returning to Angela's fall in the riding ring and the mystery of the saddle girth. There was no doubt in her mind that the girth had been tampered with, but Nancy still believed that Shannon had been telling the truth when she'd said she knew nothing about it. Was there someone else who might have had access to the stable's tack room? The first phase of Nancy's investigation would be to question Norris. When she had packed her suitcase for the trip to Soundview, she'd tucked her miniature tape recorder inside, and she decided she would take it with her to record what Norris had to say.
The second phase would be to return to the scene of the crime.
When Nancy and Ned had found Shannon in the early hours of that morning, Nancy's chief concern had been to get her to a doctor as soon as possible. There hadn't been time to scour the area around the pier for clues to the identify of Shannon's assailant. As for the Port Wellington police, Sergeant Pulaski had said nothing about their checking out the Point at all. Even if they had, Nancy knew from past experience that they might have overlooked some vital piece of evidence. If so, she was determined to find it.
Nancy stepped out of her room into the corridor. Angela's door was closed, and so was Ned's. Apparently they were still asleep, but to make sure that Angela hadn't pulled another disappearing act, Nancy very quietly turned the knob of her door, opening it just far enough to allow her to see that her friend was indeed sleeping peacefully in her canopied bed.
The huge house was eerily silent as Nancy tiptoed down the broad staircase to the first floor. There was no sign of Mr. Tremain or the servants. She took her jacket from the closet where Parker had hung it earlier, dropped the recorder into a pocket, and slipped out the front door.
Once outside, Nancy broke into a brisk jog and reached the stable a few minutes later. A beat-up beige sedan that Nancy had not seen before was parked next to the stable yard. Hoping that the car belonged to Norris, she entered the stable, but the red-haired young man coming out of the feed room definitely wasn't Norris. Maybe he was Shannon's cousin.
"Hi. Are you Jeremy?" Nancy asked.
"No, I'm Sean. Jeremy doesn't work here anymore." Sean glowered at her suspiciously. "Who're you?"
"Nancy Drew, a guest of Angela Chamberlain. My friend Ned and I came to Soundview for her wedding," Nancy replied. She walked over to Ranger's stall and stroked the chestnut gelding's nose. "Ranger and I are old pals."
Sean's hostility vanished. "That's okay then. I didn't mean to be rude, but Mr. Tremain doesn't like strangers hanging around the stable. Do you want to ride? I can saddle Ranger for you."
"Not today, thanks." Turning on the tape recorder concealed in her pocket, Nancy asked, "When did Jeremy quit?"
"He didn't quit. The boss fired him a couple of months ago," Sean told her. "Jeremy was really mad at Mr. Tremain and Angela, too, because he blamed her for blowing the whistle on him. But if you ask me, he deserved it. Jeremy Dowd had a bad attitude, always walking around with a chip on his shoulder. He was also lazy and rough with the horses.''
'Tunny,'' Nancy said. ''Angela never mentioned anything about him."
Sean shrugged. "She probably didn't even know his name. Jeremy was only here for a short while, and part-time at that. Did you want to speak to him?"
"No. Just curious, that's all. Actually, I was looking for Norris."
"Afraid you're out of luck," Sean said. "Sunday is Norris's day oflf. I come in a couple of times to check on the horses and give them their feed. Then I lock up and go home."
"Is the stable always locked when nobody's here?" Nancy asked.
"Yeah, at least ever since some animal-rights nuts went around 'liberating' the horses on the North Fork about a year ago and a lot of valuable animals were lost or injured. That's when the boss beefed up security measures. He even had an alarm system installed."
"Sounds like a good idea."
Nancy went from Ranger's stall to Starlight's. "I know how upset Angela would be if anything happened to her mare. By the way, Sean, were you around on Friday when Angela was thrown?"
He shook his head. "I was off that day, but I heard about it. Boy, was she ever lucky! She could've been paralyzed, or even killed. Norris was all shook up about it, especially when the boss acted like it was his fault. But it wasn't. That girth wasn't worn, like Mr. Tremain said. Norris takes real good care of all the tack."
"What happened to the girth? Is it still around?" Nancy asked casually.
''No. The boss took it with him after he yelled at Norris—said he wanted to make sure it was never used again. I guess he probably threw it out."
"I see. Well, nice talking with you, Sean." Nancy gave Stariight a final pat, then headed for the door.
"If you still want to see Norris, he'll be back at work tomorrow," Sean called after her.
"Thanks. Maybe FU stop by," Nancy said.
As sh
e started back to the house, she thought about what Sean had said. Considering the security measures he had described, it would be just about impossible for any unauthorized person to enter the stable without being detected.
But someone who had previously worked there—Jeremy Dowd, for instance—could have retained a set of keys and might also know
how to override the alarm. Had he been angry enough at Angela to try to harm her? It was a long shot, but Nancy decided that she would try to find out more about him from Norris on Monday. Right now, however, she wanted to check out the Point while there were still several hours of daylight left.
A few flakes of snow had begun to fall as Nancy walked up the path from the stable to the house. She planned on taking the Corvette, which was still parked on the drive where Ned had left it, but when she reached into her jeans pocket for the car keys, they weren't there. It was only then that she remembered she'd given them to Ned that morning so he could drive to the police station.
For a moment Nancy thought about waking him to get the keys back, but then changed her mind. He was exhausted, and she didn't want to disturb him. She decided she'd walk instead.
Nancy was retracing her steps around the driveway when she heard a deep voice calling, "Nancy? Is that you?"
When she stopped and turned around, she saw Angela's stepfather coming out the front door.
"Yes, it's me, Mr. Tremain."
Mr. Tremain strode over to her. "I'm surprised that you're up and about so soon. After all you've been through, I thought you'd be enjoying a well-earned rest. Where are you off to?"
Nancy hesitated. Like Ned, Mr. Tremain had made it clear that he thought her renewed fears for Angela were totally off the wall. If she told him what she had in mind, he would probably try to talk her out of it.
Well, no matter how hard he tries, he won't succeed, Nancy thought. Mr. Tremain may not approve, but he can't very well forbid me to leave the estate.