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She knew she was lucky to have the two cousins for friends. "But if you don't call her, she'll probably feel left out."Īfter hanging up with George, Nancy punched Bess's number into the phone. She and Nancy both knew how Bess hated to be involved in anything dangerous. "Oh, I'm sure my cousin would much rather be at the scene of a murder," George said with a chuckle. "I guess that's a good reason for not playing tennis," she said. Want to drive out to the Clinton Park Museum with me? I have to meet with someone there." Hanging up the phone, she wondered why anyone would threaten Nelson Stone. Nancy assured the curator that she would be right over. But at the same time, I don't want any bad publicity." "At this point, all I need is a private detective to find out who sent me the letter. "If possible, I'd like to keep the police out of this," he said. "But if you really think someone s out to kill you, why don't you contact the police?" "I can be there within the hour," Nancy said, glancing at her watch. "I've just received a threatening letter. "If you want me to help you," Nancy said firmly, "you'll have to give me specific details." If it did, she knew she would have to consult with her father before taking the case. "Does this have anything to do with Hillary Lane?" Nancy asked bluntly. She felt the mansion should have remained in the family, and she was starting a legal battle to contest the donation. The papers had been drawn up by Carson, who had been her attorney.īut Amanda's grandniece, Hillary Lane, had been bitter about her aunt's donation. Then Nancy remembered that a wealthy socialite, Amanda Lane, had donated her mansion to the museum before she died. Nancy's father was a well-respected attorney in River Heights. She recalled her father, Carson Drew, mentioning that the museum was having some kind of legal problem. "I am the curator of the new Clinton Park Museum. "My name is Nelson Stone," he said finally, a note of self-importance entering his voice. The man hesitated, and Nancy wondered whether he was afraid someone was listening in on their conversation. "Let's start with your name," she said in a businesslike tone. Nancy pulled a pencil and notebook from her purse. "Y-yes, of course," he stammered nervously.
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"Can you give me a few details over the phone?" Nancy asked. I need to meet with you as soon as possible." "Sorry to break in - but I have an urgent problem. "Nancy Drew speaking," she said, tucking a strand of red-blond hair behind her ears. She put down the receiver, and the phone rang immediately. "It must be the Pentagon now," George quipped. "I'll be right off," she assured the operator. "Oh, no!" She'd kept the phone tied up all morning. "Actually, I was wondering if you were in the mood for a game of tennis," George said. "And I'll probably hang up on them, thinking it's one of your jokes." "Someday the Pentagon might really phone the world's greatest detective for help."
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"I guess I shouldn't play around like that," she said. "Come on, George Fayne," she said to her other best friend. "This is the Pentagon calling Nancy Drew." Instead, a strange muffled voice came through the receiver. Nancy had been expecting her friend, Bess Marvin, to call back to set a time to meet at the mall. Nancy Drew dashed down the hail stairs and picked up the telephone on the second ring.