The perfect escape, p.9
The Perfect Escape, page 9
“Well, well, well,” Officer Kilkelly said, taking the flash drive and glancing sideways at Piper, who was looking away with wet eyes. “I think we’d better head over to the hotel business center and check this out.”
A few minutes later, we were all crowded around a desktop computer in the hotel’s small business center. One of Officer Kilkelly’s colleagues, Officer Pirelli, plugged the flash drive into the USB port.
Within seconds, folders of data popped up on the screen. Officer Pirelli clicked on one labeled EMAILS NOVEMBER-DECEMBER.
Kyle—
I don’t think you understand the importance of what I’m suggesting. If the indigenous people are right and the toxin can cause paralysis over time, then we are potentially freezing the faces of countless customers! You can see from the article I sent that I’m not the only one with these concerns. Please tell me we will fund a long-term study. It’s the responsible thing to do.
Best,
Anna
Anna,
This is none of your concern. I’ve heard your evidence, now drop it. We certainly are not going to derail a multimillion dollar product launch because a few poor folks in Venezuela got sick. Who knows what caused their paralysis? Who knows what they eat? If you value your job, don’t bring this matter to me again. We have made our decision.
—Kyle
Kyle,
Please, please reconsider. Reread the article I sent you. I know you are a moral person.
Anna
Anna,
Drop it, now. The next contact you receive from me on this matter will be your walking papers.
Kyle
“Wow,” Officer Pirelli muttered, looking from the computer screen to Kyle. “I’d say that’s pretty clear evidence that you knew of the dangers. Kyle McMahon, you’re under arrest. We’d better take you and Piper down to the station and look into the matter further. You have the right to remain silent . . .”
As Officer Pirelli read Kyle his Miranda rights, which I was all too familiar with, Officer Kilkelly and the third officer, Officer Kouletsis, handcuffed Kyle and Piper. Robin started crying, sobbing, “Why, Piper? I knew I should have never let you enter the pageant. . . .”
Anna shot a victorious glance at me, and Bess hugged me. “Great work, Nance,” she said with a big smile. “I know of at least one pretty face you saved from being frozen in place!”
George was smiling too. “Not bad at all,” she agreed. “It’s just too bad this took so long, and you had to miss the pageant.”
I scowled at her. As Piper and Kyle were led out of the room in handcuffs, Officer Kikelly turned to me. “How did you put all this together?” he asked. “You were a contestant. But it seems like you’d be a better candidate for Miss Amateur Detective.”
“That’s me,” I agreed with a sigh. “Unfortunately I think that’s the only pageant title I have a real shot at.”
“Well, I knew New York would be exciting,” Bess said, stretching out on Kelly’s double bed in our hotel room. “I just didn’t know how exciting.”
“Yeah, Nance,” George agreed, slipping the metal cover back over her room-service plate. We’d ordered in burgers for dinner, having seen enough of New York City for one day. “You’re quite the little tour guide. Better than those double-decker bus tours, I’m sure.”
“Ohhhh,” Bess moaned with a little pout. “I wanted to take one of those.”
“Next time,” I said. “By noon tomorrow, we’ll be back in River Heights.”
“And not a moment too soon,” George added. “No offense to the Big Apple.”
Bess sighed. “No, I agree.” She frowned. “I never thought I’d want to quit thrilling New York City for quiet little River Heights, but I think I’ve had enough excitement for . . . well, for at least this week.”
“Agreed,” I said.
“Agreed,” echoed George. “Maybe someday we’ll come back for a vacation. But right now, I think I just want to sleep and watch bad reality television for a week.”
“Wow,” Bess murmured. “You know it’s serious when George wants to watch reality TV.”
“Oh my gosh,” George murmured. “A full day, a bag of Doritos and a reality TV marathon? That’s where I am right now. That’s what you’ve turned me into, Nancy.”
I grabbed a pillow from the edge of the bed we were lounging on and tossed it at her. “Don’t blame me. Blame Pretty Face cosmetics.”
“Guys,” I said, sitting up on the bed as a thought occurred to me, “in case I didn’t say it at the time, thank you, thank you for coming after me this morning. If you guys hadn’t cracked the Hyungkoo43 code, I’d still be moldering away in a basement in Queens.”
Bess and George looked at me sympathetically. “Don’t mention it,” said George.
“Yeah, thank you for saving our lives by setting the hotel room on fire,” Bess added, then shook her head. “Gosh, that sounds weird.”
“We don’t know what Adam Bedrossian would have done to us,” George murmured.
I shuddered. “I don’t want to think about it.” When we’d all gone down to the police station for further questioning, we’d learned that Adam Bedrossian had been arrested at our hotel for arson and illegal possession of a firearm. So we had outsmarted him, in a way, even before we proved to the NYPD that Pretty Face was guilty of some serious crimes. That felt pretty good.
We were quiet for a few seconds, then a few minutes. It felt so good to lie down and feel safe. So good . . .
“I’m falling asleep,” Bess said after a couple of minutes. “Guys, I think it’s time we break up the party. We should go to bed anyway. We’re going to have to get up bright and early to make our flight home.”
“Good idea,” George agreed, and slowly, clearly not enjoying it, they pulled themselves off Kelly’s bed and got to their feet. Reluctantly I followed suit.
“Any word from Kelly?” George asked as I walked them to the door.
I shook my head sadly. “Last I heard she was still at the police station,” I replied. “Her boyfriend had come to support her, though. She was pretty shaken up.”
Bess nodded. “It must be terrible to learn that the person you trust most in the world is capable of something like this,” she said.
I nodded. “Definitely. But Kelly’s strong. I hope she’ll be okay.”
We said our good nights, and in the quiet room, I changed into my pjs and slipped into bed. Leaving the front light on for Kelly, I closed my eyes and thought of home, Dad, Hannah, and Ned. Hannah’s homemade cookies. My own bed . . .
“Nancy?”
The next thing I knew, I woke up and spotted Kelly putting her purse down on the bedside table. “I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you.”
“No, no,” I insisted, blinking and sitting up in bed. “No, I wanted to be woken. What time is it?”
Kelly sighed. “It’s late. A little past one.” She paused, looking down at her hands. “Andrew took me out for a late dinner at a diner. I think I needed some time to wind down.”
I bit my lip. Even though I knew it wasn’t my fault Kyle had turned to the dark side, I still felt guilty for being the one who busted him. “Kelly, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Kelly shook her head. “My father made his own decisions. He decided he was okay with hurting people for his own gain. I don’t understand it, but I don’t blame you, Nancy. You were only doing what was right.”
“Either way,” I said, “I’m so sorry for what you’re going through.”
Kelly smiled a tiny smile. “Thanks,” she replied. “It’s hard, Nancy, but I’ll be okay. I called my aunt who lives here in New York, and she’s just as surprised and shaken up by this as I am. I think I may stay here for a while with her.”
I nodded. “It’s good to have someone to lean on.”
“Right.” Kelly smiled again. “And maybe this will give me the kick in the butt I need to go back to school. Andrew is at NYU, and I might apply to join him next semester.” She paused. “Up till now, my life has been so tied up with Dad’s. I lived at home, because I wanted to keep him company. I joined the pageant, because he thought it would be good for me.” She sighed. “Maybe it’s time I got my own life and started making me happy.”
I smiled. “That sounds like a great idea, Kelly. You told me a while back you were interested in being a doctor. I think you’d be a great one.”
Kelly nodded. “Thanks, Nance. Anything’s possible. I’ve only ruled out one thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
Kelly laughed. “I’m definitely done with pageants for good.”
Think Nancy’s done solving crimes?
Think again!
Read ahead to get a sneak peek of the first book in the new Nancy Drew trilogy:
Secret Identity
“Is this the sort of romantic dinner you had in mind?”
I couldn’t help but smile as my boyfriend, Ned, took my hand and whispered to me as we moved into his dining room for dinner. We’d been apart for a week, since I’d been on a super complicated case that brought me to New York, and had planned to make tonight our official “catch-up date” at our favorite Italian restaurant. But this afternoon Ned had called with a change in plans. There’d been a mix-up with faculty housing at the university, so he volunteered to host a visiting professor from Iran and his family at the Nickerson home. Ned and his parents wanted to have a small dinner to welcome them, and tonight was the only night that worked for everyone.
I leaned in close to him. “Romance, shromance. A piece of your mother’s apple pie will make up for anything we missed.”
Ned chuckled and squeezed my hand. “Maybe so. But we’ll have to plan a makeup date.”
“Agreed.” I squeezed back and smiled.
The truth was, it still felt nice to be back in River Heights and doing all the normal things I like to do that don’t involve cab chases or setting things on fire. My most recent case had turned into something bigger and crazier than I ever could have anticipated, and I was enjoying being “Normal Nancy” again, instead of “Action Hero Nancy.” Being back in Ned’s house felt wonderful. And the Nickersons’ new houseguests—Professor Mirza Al-Fulani; his daughter, Arij, who was twelve; and his son, Ibrahim, who was sixteen—just couldn’t be nicer.
“So Nancy,” Ibrahim began with a smile as we sat down at the dining room table, “have your travels for investigations ever taken you out of the country? Have you been to the Middle East at all?”
I smiled. The Al-Fulanis were from Iran, and I was enjoying Ibrahim’s upbeat attempts to understand American culture. “I’m afraid not, Ibrahim. I don’t get the chance to travel all that much, even within the U.S. But I would love to visit the Middle East someday. There’s so much history there.”
Professor Al-Fulani smiled at me. “This is true, Nancy. It is still sometimes strange for my children and me to wrap our heads around American history, because your country is so new. So much has changed in only two hundred years, whereas in our part of the world, there are thousands of years of history.”
Ibrahim piped up excitedly. “Will we study American history at the high school, Nancy?”
I nodded. “Actually, you will, Ibrahim. It’s a required class for juniors.”
“Excellent.” Ibrahim dug into his salad with a grin, glancing at his sister. “I want to learn as much as I can about this country while we are here. I am so eager to meet my classmates.”
Arij smiled and nodded, glancing at Ned and I. “Maybe you could look at the outfit I plan to wear tomorrow, Nancy,” she said shyly. “I want to fit in well, and make friends quickly.”
I laughed. “I don’t know if I’m the best person to give fashion advice, but I’d be happy to offer my opinion.”
Ned squeezed my arm. “Don’t sell yourself short, Nance,” he cautioned. “After all, you are the reigning Miss Pretty Face River Heights!”
I rolled my eyes at him. While that was true, I wasn’t exactly aching to talk about my short and ill-fated career as a pageant queen, which had been part of the case I’d been investigating in New York. Still, he was smiling. I knew he found my totally out-of-character pageant win amusing.
“Nancy,” Ibrahim said again, “I am curious about how you solve cases. Ned told us a little about your unusual hobby earlier, and I must ask: Do you wear disguises? Do you ever have to lie to people to get the information you need?”
I squirmed in my seat. Ibrahim’s face was warm and open, and I knew his questions were coming from an honest curiosity. Still, I liked to keep my trade secrets, and didn’t exactly want to confess to bending the truth in the service of, well, the truth, in front of Ned’s father and a bunch of people I’d just met.
“Let’s just say I do what the case requires,” I replied, reaching out for the bread basket. “Every case is different. More bread, anybody?”
Mrs. Nickerson chuckled.
“Ibrahim and Arij,” Ned cut in smoothly, “have you ever been to an American high school before, or will tomorrow be your first time?”
“Oh no,” Ibrahim replied, shaking his head. “We have attended school in America before. My father travels often for work, you know, and we have traveled with him for months at a time.”
Professor Al-Fulani nodded. “My children lived with me while I taught at a university in Wisconsin, and also briefly in Florida. Unfortunately, both placements were only for a few months, so they weren’t able to settle in as they would have liked.”
Arij nodded, pushing her salad around on her plate. “Sometimes it’s hard to make friends,” she admitted, a note of sadness creeping into her voice. “People hear my accent or they see my headscarf and they think—they think I am something that I am not.”
Silence bloomed around the table. I nodded sympathetically, imagining how difficult it must be for Arij and Ibrahim to fit in.
“I don’t think that will be the case here, Arij,” Ned said in a warm voice. “At least, I hope not. We’re a university town, and used to diversity.”
Mr. Nickerson cleared his throat. “You have any trouble, Arij or Ibrahim, and you let me know,” he agreed. “Ned and I will do everything we can to make your stay here as pleasant as possible.”
Arij smiled. She looked a little relieved. “I can’t wait to meet everyone,” she said quietly.
“Ibrahim and Arij seem very nice,” I said to Ned a couple of hours later, as we stood on his porch to say our good-nights. “I think they’ll enjoy living here, don’t you? I think they’ll have a good experience at the high school.”
Ned nodded. “I hope so. They’re definitely a couple of great kids—so friendly and curious. I think as long as their classmates give them a chance, they’ll have plenty of friends.”
I nodded. The night was growing darker, and crickets chirped in the distance. I took a deep breath. River Heights, I thought happily. Home.
“So . . . ,” Ned began, reaching out to squeeze my hand.
“So,” I agreed, looking up at him with a smile. “Dinner? Later this week? Just the two of us?”
Ned grinned and nodded. “I’ll call you,” he agreed, leaning over to give me a peck on the cheek. “I’m so glad you’re back, safe and sound.”
“Me too,” I said honestly, squeezing his hand again. “Thank your mom for dinner. It was delicious.”
Stepping down to the driveway, I pulled out the keys to my hybrid car and felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. I imagined my nice warm bed at home, beckoning me. Without a case or anything urgent on the agenda, I could sleep in a bit tomorrow too. I sighed, driving carefully through the streets that led me home. What a relief to be home among the people I loved, and with a little downtime.
At home, I parked the car in our driveway and yawned as I walked around to the back door. I felt like I had tunnel vision—all I could see was the route to my bedroom, where I’d soon be off to dreamland. Which is why I didn’t notice that the kitchen light was on. And three people were sitting at the kitchen table, watching me curiously.
“Nancy?”
A familiar voice pulled me out of my tunnel vision, and I turned to find an unusual sight: my friend Bess; her little sister, Maggie; and our housekeeper and unofficial member of the family, Hannah; were munching on oatmeal raisin cookies.
“Bess?” I asked, walking in. What on earth?
Bess stood, placing her hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “We were waiting for you to come home,” she said. “Hope you’re not too tired, Nance. Because I think we’ve got a case for you.”
Carolyn Keene, The Perfect Escape
