Within a few minutes, Nancy, Bess, and George were sitting in Dennis Allard’s office. Nancy broke the news about Robert Gleason’s death as gently as possible. The two had worked together, and she didn’t know how upset Allard might get.
“I always knew he was unstable,” Dennis Allard said. “But I would never have predicted . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence.
Nancy looked at the man carefully. He was even more handsome in person than in his photograph. His nearly black hair had a touch of gray at the temples, and there were only the beginnings of lines around his startlingly blue eyes. Allard’s navy pinstripe suit fit neatly over his athletic body.
“How well did you know Gleason?” Nancy asked. “Did he seem like the type to—”
“Never,” Allard said, guessing at what Nancy would say. “But I didn’t know him all that well. We worked together at the law firm for about a year before the lawsuit.” Allard paused for a second, then rubbed his cheek.
Nancy, Bess, and George waited expectantly for Allard to continue.
“There is one thing that might help you,” he went on. “When the job of senior accountant came up, Gleason was sure that he’d get the promotion.”
“What happened?” George asked.
“The firm gave it to me instead,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. “Gleason wasn’t too thrilled. He seemed to have been counting on it.”
“Do you think he held a grudge against you?” Nancy asked.
“He certainly seemed to. When the case came to trial, he tried all kinds of ways to pin the blame on me.”
“But from what Nancy’s dad said, it was pretty clear he did it,” Bess said.
Allard smiled. “Luckily, justice was served.” He looked at Nancy. “I’m very grateful to your father for what he did. It was only because of his defense that I was able to preserve my career.”
Nancy stood up, ready to leave. “There’s just one more question,” she said.
“Yes?” Allard asked.
“What do you think happened to the money? It was never found, you know.”
“It is strange, don’t you think?” George put in.
“Yes, it is,” Allard said with a nod. “But my theory is that Gleason hid it away very carefully. He was probably going to claim it soon.”
“That’s what Mr. Drew thinks, too,” Bess said.
Nancy shook Allard’s hand and thanked him for answering their questions.
“I wish I could have helped more,” Allard said, showing them out of his office. “But in all honesty, I try not to think about that case. It nearly ruined my life.”
Now it might ruin my father’s, Nancy thought. “Thanks for your help,” she said, ushering Bess and George into the hall. “We’ll let you get back to work.”
• • •
“So what do you think, Nan?” George asked. The three friends were sitting in the Drews’ living room, looking at the red date book. They had just returned from renting Nancy a car.
“I don’t know,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “Nothing in here tells me anything.” She closed the book and started to talk. “Allard seems honest enough, but he could be playing it cool to see what happens.”
“What I don’t understand is why Robert Gleason would have killed himself, if he knew where the money was,” Bess pointed out.
Carson Drew walked into the living room. “What’s this about Robert Gleason?” he asked.
“He died this morning, Dad. He may have committed suicide,” Nancy said quietly.
A shocked look passed over Carson’s face. “That’s terrible,” he murmured softly. “How do you know?”
Nancy explained about her trip to Gleason’s building. She was about to tell him about her conversation with Chris and Kate Gleason, but she stopped because her father seemed preoccupied.
“What is it, Dad?” she asked. “You’re hardly listening.”
Carson sauntered over to the front window and looked out. “It’s just that this is all so awful.”
Nancy exchanged a look with Bess and George, then went over to her father. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
Carson took a deep breath, then abruptly he spoke up. “Did you see Today’s Times?” he asked.
Nancy shook her head. Carson left the living room and came back in a minute carrying the River Heights newspaper. Nancy took it from her father.
“Read page two,” he said.
After Nancy opened the paper, Bess and George stood and read over her shoulder. She scanned the page to find out what her father was talking about.
Then she saw it. A small column at the bottom of the page carried a headline, “DA Promises to Reopen Case.” She skimmed the story. Her father’s name leapt out at her, along with the words suppressing evidence and tampering.
Nancy couldn’t bring herself to read the whole story. “What does this mean?” she asked. George and Bess looked at Carson expectantly.
“Exactly what it says. The district attorney is threatening to reopen the case against Dennis Allard.”
“But he can’t do that!” Nancy said. “Can he?” she added weakly.
“He seems to think he can,” Carson said.
“On what grounds?” George asked.
Carson waited, then took a deep breath. “He’s going to bring charges against me for obstructing justice!”
Chapter
Seven
THAT’S GOT TO BE the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” George said. “No one would believe you’d obstruct justice!”
Nancy watched as her father managed a small smile. She couldn’t believe this was happening. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, George,” Carson said.
“You have mine, too, Mr. Drew,” Bess added, putting her hand on his arm. Then she turned to her cousin. “I think you and I should go, George. We’ll see you later, Nan.”
Nancy followed them to the front door and out to George’s car, in the driveway.
“I wish there were something we could do, Nancy,” Bess said, slipping into the passenger seat.
“I do, too,” Nancy answered. “But I’ve got to find out what’s going on, and why.”
“Let me guess,” George said, leaning over Bess. “You were thinking you might just be able to help your father if you could talk to the district attorney.”
“I guess we’ve known each other too long.” Nancy smiled. “I would like to know why he’s doing this. And who put him up to it.”
“Don’t get in over your head, and call us if you need help,” George said as she put her car into reverse, getting ready to back out of the Drews’ driveway.
“Don’t worry about me,” Nancy said. “I’ll be all right. It’s my father I’m worried about.” With that, she headed back inside.
Carson Drew was on the phone, and Nancy could hear only his end of the conversation.
“I’ll do that,” he was saying. “No, I don’t think it’s necessary. Fine. Call me tomorrow.”
“Who was that, Dad?” Nancy asked.
“A colleague of mine. I thought I’d better call him,” Carson answered.
“Dad, this is more serious than you’re letting on, isn’t it?”
Nancy saw her father hesitate before he answered her. There were lines of worry around his eyes and mouth. It wasn’t the first time he had tried to protect her or prevent her from getting involved in a case. But it would be worse than maddening if he wouldn’t let her help him this time. It could be disastrous.
“You’ve got to let me help you,” she began. “I can’t just sit still while someone tries to destroy your career.”
Carson Drew went over to his daughter and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I know you want to help,” he said, “but there’s nothing you can do. If the district attorney wants to reopen the case, he can if he has enough evidence to support his claims.”
“And does he?” Nancy asked.
“I don’t know. I’m not even sure what he’s basing
his accusations on. But there’s got to be something. If only I knew what it was . . .”
Carson stepped away from Nancy and sat down on the couch. He leaned over, rested his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together.
“Please, Dad,” Nancy begged, “you’ve got to let me help you. There must be something we can do.” She thought for a moment. “Who might have gone to the DA? He wouldn’t have thought to reopen this case on his own, would he?”
Carson shook his head. “The only person who knows enough about the trial is Gleason’s former lawyer, Edward Vaughn. But I don’t see why he would have—”
“Why not?” Nancy asked excitedly. “What if Gleason had gone back to him, claiming to have evidence to prove that he was innocent?”
“What sort of evidence?” Carson asked curiously.
“I don’t know.” Nancy then explained what Chris and Kate Gleason had told her. “So maybe Gleason really had come up with something that showed Allard was guilty in the first place,” she concluded. “Would that be enough for Gleason’s lawyer—what’s his name, Vaughn?”
Carson nodded.
Nancy went on. “Would Vaughn go to the district attorney with the information?”
Carson narrowed his eyes and thought for a moment. “It’s possible,” he said. “But only if he had real proof. He wouldn’t risk his career for less.”
Nancy pointed to the article. “But from what this says, the DA’s only threatening to reopen the case. All I read is ‘alleged’ and ‘looking into the possibility.’ It looks like this reporter’s basing his story on some kind of leak.”
“You’re right, Nancy.” Carson sighed, reading the story again. “There’s nothing here that says he’s got proof.”
“That means there’s a chance we can fight this!” Nancy said emphatically.
“Listen to me, Nancy,” Carson said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do.”
Nancy tried to interrupt. “But, Dad—”
Her father stopped her. “Please. We’re going to have to wait and see what happens. And I’d better not find out that you’ve gotten any more involved than you already are. This is one case you shouldn’t even think of solving. Do you understand?”
Nancy gave up. “Sure, I understand.” It hurt her a bit that her father didn’t think she could help, but she knew how stubborn he could be.
“Thanks, Nancy,” Carson said with a sad smile. “I know how hard this must be for you.”
“Not any harder than it is for you,” Nancy answered wearily, picking up the date book and carrying it upstairs.
• • •
The next morning Nancy stood in a plush reception room, waiting to see Edward Vaughn. All night she had thought about what her father had said. Normally, she would have followed his advice. Then she decided that if she managed to help her father, he’d have no choice but to forgive her for not listening to him.
“Mr. Vaughn’s secretary says you should make an appointment and come back,” the receptionist said, interrupting Nancy’s thoughts.
“Did you tell him it’s important?” she asked.
The receptionist eyed Nancy. Obviously she didn’t appreciate a teenager telling her how to do her job.
“Of course I told him, Ms. Drew, but he’s a very busy man. Now I have to get back to work.” At least five lights were blinking on the phone console. “Good morning, Stein and Daly, please hold. Good morning, Stein and Daly, please hold.”
Nancy saw her chance to slip past the receptionist and down the firm’s bustling corridor. Vaughn didn’t want to see her, but she had to talk to him, and she was going to find a way to do it.
She asked the first person she saw to direct her to Vaughn’s office. Following the instructions, Nancy made a left at the first corner and saw Vaughn’s nameplate on the second door on her right.
Through the open office door, she caught a glimpse of Vaughn. He was busy talking on the phone and taking notes on a large yellow legal pad.
“Can I help you?” Nancy turned to see a thin, blond-haired woman dressed in a gray suit stand up from her desk.
“Um, yes,” Nancy answered. “Could you see if Mr. Vaughn can take a minute to talk to me?” She waited while the woman, who was not much older than she, looked her up and down. She was clearly a pro, despite her age, at screening visitors.
“The receptionist must have told you that Mr. Vaughn is very busy,” the woman said in a cold voice.
“What’s going on out here, Pam?” Edward Vaughn was standing in his doorway. Although he was short and kind of pudgy, Vaughn was an intimidating presence. “Who are you?” he asked, looking at Nancy.
“Mr. Vaughn, my name’s Nancy Drew, and I’d like to talk to you.” Nancy tried to appear confident. She hoped her name would catch his attention. It did.
“Nancy Drew. Are you related to Carson Drew?” he asked.
“I’m his daughter,” Nancy admitted.
“Well,” Vaughn said, dragging the word out. He took his hands out of his pockets and reached out to shake Nancy’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Nancy Drew. Why don’t you come in?”
That was easy, Nancy thought. But why is he being so nice to me all of a sudden? She followed him into his office, her guard up.
Vaughn motioned to a comfortable leather armchair. “Have a seat. Now what could have made you want to come to see me?” He walked around his desk and sat down. Before Nancy could answer, he spoke again.
“Let me guess.” Vaughn leaned back in his chair and wove his hands together behind his head. “Could it have something to do with a case the district attorney’s about to bring against your father?” His tone was arrogant. “You know, you shouldn’t even be here. I doubt your father would approve.”
Nancy began to wonder if she might be out of her element. She realized in a flash that a conversation with a lawyer who was probably pressing charges against her own father could be a serious conflict of interest. But there was no going back now.
“He doesn’t know I’m here,” she said. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him. But it’s not what you think. I’m not here to ask you about his case. Actually, I thought you might be able to give me some background information on Robert Gleason.”
“Robert Gleason. Now why do you want to know about him?” A frown crept over Vaughn’s face.
“Did you know he committed suicide?” Nancy asked.
“Yes.” Vaughn moved forward in his chair and leaned his elbows on his desk. “His son called me yesterday. A real tragedy.”
“I think Gleason may have known something about his trial,” Nancy ventured, “something about evidence from that trial.” She paused, then plunged in. “I was wondering if you had any idea what that might be.”
“Nancy Drew.” Vaughn laughed. Then he took a puff from a cigar that lay in an ashtray on his desk. “You obviously don’t know much about the law. As Gleason’s lawyer I’m not allowed to tell you anything about that trial. Or about evidence that did or did not exist at that time or now.”
“But Gleason may have been killed because of it. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Nancy sensed a note of desperation creeping into her voice. She tried to remain calm.
Vaughn looked at her intently. “Look, I can’t tell you anything about the trial that you don’t already know. If you’ve talked to your father about it, you know as much as there is to know.” He stood up. “I think you’d better go now.”
“Mr. Vaughn, please.” Nancy grabbed at a straw. “We both want the same thing.”
“How’s that?”
“You’ve obviously been in touch with the Gleason kids,” she said quickly. “I can tell they’re behind your wanting to bring the case up again, right?”
“And if they are?” Vaughn looked at Nancy seriously for the first time.
“Then we should work together, not separately. If there’s evidence to prove that Gleason was innocent, I want to find it, too.” She had to make him understa
nd. “It’s the only way I can prove that my father didn’t have anything to do with hiding something in the original trial.”
Vaughn stepped around his desk and closed his office door, which had been open the whole time they were talking. He turned to face Nancy.
“I’ll do one thing for you, Ms. Drew. I’ll arrange an appointment for you at Gleason’s old firm. You can talk to Peter Nicodemus, the director of administration there. That’s as far as I’ll go, and don’t ask me why I’m even doing that.”
Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. She had gotten somewhere, at least. She couldn’t believe her luck. “Thank you. You don’t know what a help this is,” she said.
“I don’t know what you hope to find out there,” Vaughn said. “But I’m only doing this on one condition.”
“Which is?” Nancy asked.
“Whatever you find will have to become evidence for the DA’s case against Carson Drew. You could be put up on the stand.” Vaughn gave her a hard look.
“The DA’s case.” The words rang in Nancy’s ears. Then she realized what Vaughn was saying.
He was telling her she could end up as a witness for the prosecution, testifying against her own father!
Chapter
Eight
BUT—” NANCY SAID. She was in shock.
Vaughn crossed the room and sat on the edge of his desk, facing Nancy.
“Let me explain. If you talk to Nicodemus, you could very well find evidence that furthers our case against your father,” he said.
“Except that you won’t tell me what that case is,” Nancy said, regaining her composure.
“I can’t. That would be a violation of ethics,” Vaughn concluded.
Nancy shook herself. “That’s an unfair position to put me in,” she said weakly.
“That may be true. But now that you’ve talked to me, we have the right to subpoena your testimony,” Vaughn told her. “That means that no matter how you get in to see Nicodemus, we can call you to trial and force testimony out of you. There’s nothing to protect you from that happening.”