desk, she stopped. She bent down, pretending to adjust
the strap on her sandal. At the same time, she tried to
eavesdrop on the woman's conversation.
“This is Sandy from Mr. and Mrs. Drake's office, I
want to talk to Robert right this second,” Nancy heard
the woman say. “Robert, is that you? Why wasn't that
package messengered over to the Herald this morning?
What? What do you mean? I dropped it off myself
hours ago.”
There was a silence. Nancy continued fiddling with
her sandal.
After a moment Sandy said, “Fine, I'm coming right
down. Stay there, don't move. If that package isn't
found, Robert, you're dead meat! Eloise in Public
Relations is gonna have a fit. We've been getting
hammered with bad press lately, you know that.”
Sandy slammed the phone down. She got up from
her desk and marched down the hall. She passed
Nancy just as Nancy was rising to her feet. Sandy didn't
even seem to notice her.
Nancy glanced over her shoulder. Sandy rushed into
the elevator just as the doors were closing. Without
wasting another second, Nancy headed down the hall
to the office just beyond Sandy's desk.
Actually, there were two offices. The office on the
left was empty, but the office on the right was not.
Nancy stood in the doorway of that office and
peered in. An attractive older woman, probably in her
fifties, was sitting behind a huge mahogany desk. She
was dressed in a pale pink silk dress that
complemented her short, gray-black hair.
The woman was signing something with an ornate
silver fountain pen. Nancy knocked lightly on the door.
“Hi. Mrs. Drake?”
The woman glanced up. “Yes, that's me. What can I
do for you?” Her voice was friendly.
“I hope I'm not intruding. Eloise in Public Relations
sent me up,” Nancy fibbed. “I'm a reporter for the . . .”
Nancy hesitated. She needed to make up the name
of a local newspaper. She couldn't use a real paper,
since Mrs. Drake might call to check her credentials.
“The, um, Everglades City Beacon,” Nancy said
after a minute. “I was assigned to do a story on your
latest project.”
Mrs. Drake started. “You mean Manatee Commons?
Or one of our smaller projects? We have so many.”
“Yes, Manatee Commons.” I hope that's the right
one, Nancy thought. “I'm here to get your side of the
story, Mrs. Drake,” she went on. “I know there's been
some controversy, and I think the public deserves to
hear the developers' perspective.”
Mrs. Drake's face softened. She smiled at Nancy.
“That is so refreshing to hear, Ms.—what did you say
your name was?”
“Drew. Nancy Drew.”
“Sit down, Nancy.” Mrs. Drake indicated a white
leather-and-chrome chair.
“You know, I can see why the public gets upset
about new development,” Mrs. Drake began. “Of
course they're concerned about the environment,
about endangered species, about southern Florida's
water supply. What the public doesn't understand is,
the Panterra Corporation is just as concerned as they
are! That's why we at Panterra do all the impact studies
necessary for each and every project. That way, we can
design our projects accordingly and nip any problems
in the bud!”
Nancy sat down and pulled a pen and notepad out of
her purse. She began scribbling down what Mrs. Drake
was saying. She didn't understand all of it, but she
could ask Susan about it later. Plus, she had to look like
a real reporter. “Tell me more about Manatee
Commons, Mrs. Drake,” she said with a smile.
“It's a wonderful project, Tracy,” Mrs. Drake
gushed. “It's going to be a million-acre shopping mall.
Multistory, with shops and restaurants and a day-care
facility so moms and dads can drop off their little ones
while they shop. We at Panterra care about families!”
“Why are you calling it Manatee Commons?” Nancy
asked her.
“We're naming it Manatee Commons in honor of
the great manatee, which inhabits the Everglades and
other parts of Florida,” Mrs. Drake explained.
“Because you see, we at Panterra care about wildlife.
Are you getting all this down, Tracy?”
“Uh-huh,” Nancy said, scribbling furiously.
While she was writing, Nancy tried to think of a way
to segue the conversation to Jade Romero. She had to
find out if there was a connection between Jade's
disappearance and the new Panterra project.
I could just come right out and ask Mrs. Drake if she
knows Jade, Nancy thought. Or I could lie and pretend
that Jade called me about Manatee Commons.
After a minute Nancy decided to go for option
number two. She stopped writing and glanced up at
Mrs. Drake.
“By the way, Mrs. Drake, a woman called me about
a month ago about Manatee Commons,” she fibbed.
“Maybe you know her, her name is Ja—”
Nancy was interrupted by a loud, booming male
voice. “Esther, did you forget all about the meeting?
You're keeping a roomful of lawyers waiting. Come
on!”
Nancy's head shot up. A man was standing in the
doorway. He was wearing a light gray suit that com-
plemented his very tall, very broad-shouldered
physique. He had a deep tan, white hair, and piercing
blue eyes.
“Oh, hello, Bill,” Mrs. Drake said cheerfully. “I'll
just be a minute. Ask the nice lawyers to wait, will
you?”
Nancy realized that the man must be Bill Drake.
Mr. Drake glanced from his wife to Nancy and back to
his wife again. “Who's this?”
“Darling, this very nice young reporter Tracy is here
to talk to us about Manatee Commons,” Mrs. Drake
explained. “She writes for the Homestead Heron. Or
was it the Biscayne Banner?”
“It's the Everglades City Beacon,” Nancy explained,
smiling at Bill Drake.
“Yes, well, whatever.” Mrs. Drake waved her hands
dismissively. “Anyway, Tracy, this is my husband, Bill
Drake—”
“Never mind the social niceties, Esther,” Mr. Drake
snapped. He turned to Nancy and glared suspiciously
at her. “You're not really a reporter, are you? I know
every newspaper in southern Florida. And there's no
such newspaper as the Everglades City Beacon!”
6. Danger on the Road
Mr. Drake continued glaring at Nancy, waiting for an
explanation. Oh, no. Mr. Drake is onto me! Nancy
thought.
Nancy's mind raced as she tried to figure out a way
out of this dilemma. It was just her luck that Mr. Drake
knew the names of all the southern Florida
newspapers.
Now what? she thought frantically.
“Dearest, you cannot talk to people like that!” Mrs.
Drake scolded her husband.
She turned to Nancy with a sheepish look. “I
apologize for my husband, Tracy. Obviously he got up
on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
Nancy took a deep breath in order to regain her
composure. She plastered a big, fake smile on her face.
“It's no problem, Mrs. Drake,” she said pleasantly.
She turned to Mr. Drake. “It's a pleasure to meet you,
Mr. Drake. I'm Nancy Drew. And, yes, I am a reporter.
As I explained to your wife, I'm doing a piece for the
Everglades City Beacon. You may not have heard of it
yet. It's a small independently owned paper. Some
friends of my father's just started it.”
Nancy added, “They asked me to do a story on
Manatee Commons. Specifically, they asked me to get
your side of the story.”
“Nancy—Tracy—I am so bad with names,” Mrs.
Drake cried out. She turned to her husband. “In any
case, my love, please try to be nice to this young lady.
We wouldn't want her writing an article about how
crabby and difficult you are, now, would we?”
Mr. Drake didn't reply but continued staring coldly
at Nancy. He seemed to be considering something.
Nancy made herself keep smiling, all the while
wondering if Mr. Drake planned to call the Everglades
City Beacon to check out her story.
Which would be a problem, since there is no
Everglades City Beacon, Nancy thought nervously.
Mr. Drake stuffed his hands into the pockets of his
light gray suit. “Fine, whatever,” he muttered. “What
do you want to know, Ms. Drew?”
Whew, that was close! Nancy thought.
She glanced down at her notebook. Where was I?
she asked herself. Oh, yes, Jade Romero.
“As I was saying to your wife, a woman called me
about a month ago, wanting to talk about Manatee
Commons,” Nancy said. “Jade Romero. Do either of
you know her?”
Nancy glanced up, waiting for the Drakes' reactions.
Mr. Drake shrugged. “Never heard of her,” he said
after a moment. “Who is she, one of those citizens'
group nuts?” he added irritably.
“Bill, really!” Mrs. Drake exclaimed. “Those citizens'
groups people are not nuts, they are merely concerned
about the environment and all that sort of thing. Just
like us.” She smiled at Nancy. “I don't know this Jane
Romero, either. What did she have to say about
Manatee Commons, anyway? All good things, I hope.”
“I got the impression she was opposed to the
project,” Nancy improvised. “But as I said before, my
piece is about your side of the story.”
“Yes, well, I hope you don't plan to write anything
bad about Manatee Commons,” Mrs. Drake said.
“Of course not,” Nancy assured her.
Nancy asked the Drakes a few more questions about
Manatee Commons. As she wrote down their answers,
she thought about the Drakes' reactions to her
mentioning Jade's name. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Drake
had shown any sign of knowing her.
Of course, they could be good actors, Nancy
thought.
After a moment Mr. Drake said, “Look, Ms. Drew.
Not to cut you short, but my wife and I really do have a
meeting to attend. If you have any more questions
about Manatee Commons, you can speak to Eloise in
our Public Relations department.”
“Must we, Bill?” Mrs. Drake said, sighing. “These
meetings give me a headache. They're so long.”
Mr. Drake ignored her. “Good day, Ms. Drew,” he
said, glancing meaningfully at the door. Once again he
seemed to be in a big hurry to get rid of her.
The Café Blue Marlin was on a pretty, lively street
overlooking the beach. The walls, tables, and chairs
were painted turquoise and yellow, and tropical birds
sat in cages, singing and squawking at the customers.
Nancy walked into the main room and glanced
around. Bess and George were sitting at a table near
the window. Bess was staring longingly at a bunch of
guys and girls who were inline skating down a
boardwalk in their bathing suits. “Hey, Nancy!” she
said. “Doesn't that look like fun?” she added, nodding
at the skaters.
“It looks like a blast,” Nancy agreed. She pulled up a
chair and sat down. “We can do that later— after we
solve our mystery.”
A waitress came by and set two tall glasses in front of
Bess and George. The glasses contained what looked
like purple milkshakes, and they were decorated with
pineapple slices and fresh flowers.
Nancy laughed. “What's that?”
“A purple passion smoothie made with grape juice,
bananas, and raspberry yogurt,” George explained. She
took a sip. “Mmm, it's good, you should have one.”
Nancy ordered one from the waitress. After studying
the menus, the girls also ordered conch fritters and
shrimp Caesar salads for lunch.
“Be right back with that, ladies,” the waitress said,
scribbling down their orders.
After she was gone, George leaned across the table
and wriggled her eyebrows at Nancy. “Well? How did
your undercover mission at Panterra go? Did you
wrestle all their corporate secrets out of them?”
“Well, maybe not all of them,” Nancy joked. She
told the girls about her encounter with Mrs. Drake,
then Mr. Drake.
When she had finished, she said, “I asked them if
they'd ever heard of Jade Romero. They both said no. I
couldn't tell if they were lying or not. Mr. Drake has a
pretty good poker face, and Mrs. Drake is just kind of
giddy and cheerful about everything.”
“Mr. Drake! Mrs. Drake!” a voice squawked.
Nancy glanced up in alarm. Was someone eaves-
dropping on their conversation?
Then she realized that the voice was coming from a
nearby birdcage. A green-and-red parrot was staring at
her with its big black eyes.
“Mr. Drake! Mrs. Drake! Squawwwwwwk!”
“Oh, that is so cute!” Bess cried out.
Nancy glanced around. Some of the customers were
staring curiously at Nancy and her friends.
“Yeah, but we'd better keep it down, or everyone in
the restaurant's going to know what we're talking
about,” Nancy told George and Bess in a low voice.
“Anyway. That's how I did. How did you guys do? Did
you find anything at the library?”
“Did we find anything? Of course!” Bess reached
into her bag and pulled out a file folder. She slid it over
to George. “You want to do the honors?”
George opened the file folder and took out some
photocopies. Nancy glanced at them. They looked like
newspaper articles.
“We copied these for you from some of the local
papers,” George explained. “See what you think.”
Nancy leafed through the articles. George and Bess
had done a good job. There were many articles
.
Obviously, whatever the Panterra Corporation did was
big news in these parts.
As Nancy leafed through the articles, several
headlines caught her eye:
Panterra Corp.'s New Housing Complex,
Delia Marina Estates, Runs
into Controversy
Panterra Corp. Investigated for
Possible Environmental Violations
Citizens' Group Forms to Fight
Manatee Commons
“What's this about a citizens' group?” Nancy asked
curiously. She remembered the Drakes talking about
citizens' groups.
“CAMC,” George replied. “That stands for Citizens
Against Manatee Commons. According to the article,
they formed just recently to fight Manatee Commons.
They're saying it's going to cause terrible
environmental and ecological problems for the
Everglades.”
“Who's in the group?” Nancy asked. “Is it a bunch of
people who work at the park, like Susan?”
“It's citizens from all over the place,” Bess said,
pointing to the article. “There's some leader guy— his
name is in there somewhere.”
Nancy scanned the article quickly. “Here he is. Jeff
Kelly.”
“Jeff Kelly! Jeff Kelly!” the parrot squawked.
“Leader guy!”
People turned to stare at Nancy and her friends.
“Shhh!” Bess chided the parrot.
The waitress came by with their lunch order. “Here
you go, ladies,” she said, setting down three shrimp
Caesar salads and a basket of fried conch fritters.
“Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” George said, popping a fritter into her
mouth. “Mmm, these conch things are great!”
“Like onion rings, but better,” Bess agreed.
Nancy sampled one, too. It was yummy. She knew
that conch—which the waitress had pronounced
“conk”—was a local shellfish. She'd never seen it on
any of the menus in the restaurants back home.
As they ate their lunch, Nancy scanned the rest of
the articles that George and Bess had copied at the
library. They all seemed to point to the same few facts:
the Panterra Corporation's various housing, office, and
shopping complexes had all been built on the outskirts
of the Everglades. And they had all contributed, or
been accused of contributing, to the park's
environmental and ecological problems.
But did any of this have anything to do with Jade's
disappearance? Nancy wondered.
Nancy decided to get more information about Jade