025 Rich and Dangerous (2 page)

She turned to go, but stopped short to avoid stepping on a piece of paper on the floor. When she looked more closely at it, her blood turned to ice water, and she felt a cold chill travel up her spine. Scrawled all over the paper, in a spindly, maniacal hand, were the words “KILL . . . KILL . . . KILL!”

D
ISTURBED BY THE
violent words she’d just read, Nancy hurried back to the suite she shared with her father. Something obviously wasn’t right in the suite next door. That note was really weird, and so was the theft she’d just witnessed. What was going on?

As she came through the door she saw her father lying on a chaise, his hand curled around the telephone. He was saying, “I see. So you’re going to need an injunction from the authorities here to break into their computer system. . . .”

His eyes brightened when he saw her. “Hi,
honey, I’m going to be a while,” he whispered, covering the mouthpiece of the telephone for a moment. “The chief of police from the Netherlands is kind of thorough.”

“It’s okay,” Nancy replied softly. “I want to do some more exploring, anyway.”

It didn’t matter what plans she’d had for this trip—she was just about to change them. Someone might be in danger; she had to help.

“KILL, KILL, KILL.” What an awful message! Nancy couldn’t shake the image of the scrawled note, and all the way to the elevator, the faces of the old lady and her three companions played across her mind. Why would anyone who looked as rich as the young man have to steal? And why had the timid woman written such a horrible, hostile message?

Nancy stepped into the elevator and pressed
L.
She could just imagine her best friends, Bess Marvin and George Fayne, shaking their heads in disapproval. They had made her absolutely promise not to get involved with any mysteries on this trip. Now here she was, tiptoeing around in strangers’ suites and reading their notes.

The elevator opened and Nancy headed for the Palm Court, the elegant café set in the center of the lobby. It was like an island surrounded by hundreds of stately palms. The air was filled with the sounds of a string quartet. Maybe Bess and George were right. Maybe she had forgotten how to relax.

“One?” The blond maître d’ approached Nancy with a smile.

“Yes, please,” Nancy replied.

Taking her seat at a small marble table toward the back, then looking over the menu, Nancy let herself forget the people in the suite next door. The quartet’s music washed over her, and suddenly she felt terrific. There were so many wonderful things to look forward to this weekend! The hotel was right on Fifth Avenue, across from Central Park. And in every direction there were terrific shops, where the finest designers in the world sold their wares. Of course, there was Tiffany’s right on Fifth—always a fun place to do some heavy window-shopping.

Nancy made a mental note to call her boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, at Emerson College later that night. Ned loved the city as much as she did, and she wanted to tell him about her stay.

“A good for nothing, that’s all you are!” The woman’s dramatic voice boomed out, catching Nancy’s attention. It came from behind her, on the other side of a thick row of potted palms. And there was no mistaking that voice, either. It belonged to the old woman she’d seen earlier— the one the gorgeous guy had called Aunt Sarah. Fate seemed to be throwing Nancy and her penthouse neighbors together.

Turning around, Nancy could see through the palm leaves that the elderly woman was addressing her remarks to her handsome young nephew.

“Yes, I think I have a perfect
right
to know where you go at night. I’m paying for it, am I not? Your uncle Joshua worked for every penny of the money you are tossing away! I’d like to make you work for that money and then see how careless you’d be with it!”

Nancy didn’t hear the young man’s reply, because just then the waiter came up and asked for her order.

“Good day, miss, my name is Maximilian— what may I get for you?”

Nancy looked up. Her waiter was a dark man, extremely short and bald, with a large walrus mustache. His accent was vaguely Eastern European.

The strange thing about him was that he didn’t look at Nancy when he spoke. His eyes were riveted on the table on the other side of the palms. Obviously, he had heard every word of their argument.

“Oh! I haven’t really decided,” said Nancy, her eyes falling down to the glossy beige menu. “Just bring—let’s see—any of the pastries. Something with chocolate—and some decaffeinated coffee, please.”

“The éclair is exceptional today,” he said, his eyes still on the other party.

“Fine. An éclair then.”

“Don’t think you can get to my soft spot this time!” The woman’s voice filtered through the potted palm.

“Always the same, always the same . . .” the waiter muttered, transfixed.

“Excuse me?” Nancy asked.

Now the waiter caught Nancy’s eye, and he shook his head slowly.

“Those people over there, they think their money makes up for their bad manners. Every day it’s the same thing.”

“Oh? They come here a lot?”

“They come here three or four times a year, miss, on vacation. They always stay in the same suite. I have waited on them for years.” He looked Nancy up and down. “I see you are curious, miss. Yes?”

Had she been so obvious about her interest? “Well, perhaps a little,” she replied casually. “I believe they’re my neighbors.”

“Well, I shall tell you, then,” said Maximilian, with a little mock bow. “The woman is Sarah Amberly—perhaps you have heard of her? The wealthy widow from Boston. Since her husband passed away, she’s worth more than many small countries. She’s yelling at her nephew, Jack Kale. She scolds him, but she lets him steal from right under her nose.”

So he
had
been stealing!

“She raised him, you know,” the waiter continued. “And she spoiled him rotten. Now, she complains.” With a derogatory snort, Maximilian made his contempt known.

“What about the others?” Nancy couldn’t help
her curiosity, and the waiter seemed eager to supply her with any details she might want. “Who’s the other woman?”

“Oh, yes, the poor thing—” With this, the waiter circled a finger by his temple. “It’s Mrs. Amberly’s younger sister, Alison Kale. Crazy, you know? She is very timid, but inside, so angry.”

“Oh?”

“And the other man, with the graying hair, is Mr. Pieter van Druten—another delightful person. He’s got millions from his diamond mines, but that’s not enough for him. He’s trying to get the old woman’s money, too!”

“Really? How?”

“By marrying her, I suppose. Even now, he stays in her suite at her expense. She says this is a small repayment since he keeps her from loneliness, but I say the man is a sponge. Her dead husband was a good man—better than any of them. He was a man who worked for his money. These people are nothings, just idle rich who do nothing. They are dirt.”

“Well, you certainly know a lot about them,” Nancy observed. Maximilian’s attitude was so bitter and angry that she felt sorry for the man.

“Know about them!” With that the waiter chuckled. “My dear miss, a servant sees many things, many things. I know much more than that, I assure you—for a small consideration, of course.”

He’s asking for a bribe! Nancy smiled and looked away. “I’m not a reporter, you know. I’m not in the business of buying information.”

Smiling broadly now, the waiter turned to walk away. “If you should change your mind . . .”

But Nancy pretended not to hear. It was all intriguing, but she wasn’t going to get any more involved than she already was. And there was no way that Nancy Drew would ever pay for information—not when she could get it herself, that is.

• • •

“Good night, Dad.”

It had been a long, full day, and Nancy was tired. She and her dad hadn’t had time to eat until after nine o’clock. Fortunately, dinner at the Oak Room, the Plaza’s most exclusive restaurant, had been fabulous. And she and her father had finally gotten a chance to catch up.

The two of them had always been close because Carson had been both mother and father to her after Nancy’s mother died. He had a housekeeper, though. Hannah Gruen was wonderful and like a mother to Nancy, but she couldn’t replace her real one, of course. So Carson and Nancy had had to be a special team—good friends, real partners.

Lately, though, they hadn’t had as much time for each other as they’d once had. Nancy was grown-up now, and Carson’s successful career kept him busy. Yes, dinner together had been
a precious time, but now he’d had to turn in early.

Smiling happily, Nancy picked up the phone beside her bed and dialed Ned Nickerson’s number. He’d be back in his room at his fraternity house by now.

As she sat there listening to the ringing, Nancy continued to think about Sarah Amberly. There was something about her and her family—about Maximilian the waiter, too—something that drew her toward them, that
attracted
her. Was it Jack Kale’s handsome face? Nancy didn’t think so, but then . . .

“Hello?”

The voice coming through the receiver startled her out of her reverie. “Ned! Is that you?” Of course she knew it was; the warm rush that coursed through her when he answered told her it was.

“Nan! Hi!”

He sounded terrific. Nancy felt her heart lift. “Hi, Ned.”

“Where are you calling from? The Big Apple?” he asked.

“You crazy old woman!” Nancy jumped about a foot off the bed when she heard the female voice shouting from the Amberly suite! “Don’t you see you’re being duped? He’s not what he seems to be, I tell you! He’s not what you think!”

“Nancy? Are you still there?” Ned’s voice broke in, bringing Nancy back to herself.

“Uh, yes, Ned, I’m here,” she stammered. “But there’s some sort of argument going on next door, and I can’t really hear you. Could I call you back in five minutes?”

“Sure, Nan. Talk to you then.”

The phone clicked. Nancy hoped she hadn’t offended Ned. In the past, there had been times when her detective work had put a strain on their relationship. They’d finally been able to sort all that out, though, and Nancy felt sure, down deep, that she could count on his support.

Sarah Amberly was shouting again, in that booming, intimidating voice of hers. “You’re a fool, Alison! A complete and utter fool! And don’t go telling me my own business. I don’t have to put up with you, you know. I do it only out of the goodness of my poor, tired heart.”

But Alison, who had seemed so fearful before, did not seem at all intimidated now. In fact, she seemed to be a different person altogether.

“You old loon! Don’t you see he’s dangerous? He leads you around by the nose. You’ll be sorry, Sarah, mark my words! Sorry you were ever bora!”

“I don’t want to hear another word! Not another word!” Sarah Amberly was screaming now, and she definitely sounded shaken.

“Very well, then—you can throw your life away if you want. I tried, God knows! I tried—” And then there was silence.

The silence was soon interrupted by a low
moaning sound. And now the voice was saying something—something Nancy couldn’t quite make out.

Rushing into the hall, Nancy caught sight of Alison Kale retreating down the corridor. It sounded as if she were muttering angrily to herself.

And now, standing outside the open door of the Amberly suite, Nancy could hear plainly— the unearthly moan was the voice of Sarah Amberly. And the word she was repeating over and over was by now a desperate cry—
“Help!”

N
ANCY THREW OPEN
the carved wooden door of the neighboring suite and rushed in. From the living room, she could see into Sarah Amberly’s room. The woman was lying half on her bed and half on the floor. Her faded blond hair was undone—it spilled over her shoulders.

The moment she saw Nancy her eyes lit up. “My—my medicine—” she managed to say, twitching her fingers in the direction of a carved mahogany bureau across the room.

On the table Nancy spied a small ivory container. She shook out the contents into her hand—there were ten pale green tablets.