Nobody's Business (8 page)

N
ANCY LEAPT FORWARD
, throwing her weight against Bess and knocking them both out of the way. A split second later the chandelier landed with a deafening crash against the floor.

For a moment the two of them lay motionless, stunned and breathing heavily. Thousands of shards of broken crystal surrounded them. Worried cries rang out in the room, and she and Bess were soon surrounded by Ned, Andrew, and the others.

“Are you okay?” Ned asked, his brown eyes filled with concern.

Nancy sat up gingerly. “I think so,” she said. “Bess?”

“S-still in one piece,” Bess said in a squeaky voice. With Blaster's help, she rose to her feet. “Thanks, Nancy. That's probably the zillionth time you saved my life, but it means just as much every time.”

Looking gravely from Nancy to Bess, Andrew said, “Maybe Colleen's right. This job
is
getting too dangerous. If people's lives are in danger—”

“We're fine,” Nancy assured him, taking Ned's hand as he helped her up.

“But who knows what's going to happen next?” Andrew said, shaking his head. “I just increased my insurance coverage, but I don't think it's going to be enough if these accidents keep up.”

Hearing Andrew's words, something clicked in Nancy's mind. Insurance! she thought excitedly. That could be the whole key to what was happening.

Maybe Andrew had decided to junk the whole project and collect on his insurance, Nancy thought. He could blame the inn's failure on the saboteur, and he'd be able to get back some of his father's investment. That way he'd be free to go to California and pursue his acting career, and no one would ever have to know that he was the one causing the accidents in the first place.

Nancy was almost sure that foul play was behind this incident, too. She bent over the huge pile of shattered crystal and stared at the broken
end of thick cable that was attached to a metal ring at the top of the chandelier.

Hmm, that's strange, she thought. The cable end wasn't torn evenly. Half of it was neatly cut, as if someone had sliced through it on purpose with metal clippers.

Nancy took Andrew aside as Bess, Colleen, and some of the teens found brooms and started sweeping up the crystal shards. “I think someone cut halfway through this cable,” Nancy told him, “knowing that the weight of the chandelier would break it the rest of the way.”

“But that's impossible,” Andrew insisted. “I checked the cable last night, and it was fine.”

“You weren't around for a while this morning, though,” Nancy countered. “Someone could have sliced it then.” If you didn't do it yourself, she added silently.

Andrew shook his head. “I don't see how,” he said. “The pulley and cable were locked in a closet in my office all night. I just brought it out myself a few minutes ago.”

Speaking in a low voice, Nancy told Andrew her theory that someone might have sneaked into the office and copied the keys when he wasn't there. “It could have been Blaster, or the homeless person,” Nancy said. “Or maybe Julie.”

Andrew started to object, but Nancy cut him off. “Whoever it is, they might be planning to return tonight to plant more nasty surprises.”
Her blue eyes sparkled as she added, “I have an idea, though.” Gesturing for Ned and Bess to join them, she said, “Why don't we camp out here tonight? Or maybe I should say camp in. If someone tries to break in, we'll have a better chance of catching them off guard.”

“Sounds like fun,” Bess said. “But after this narrow escape, I think I'm going to need a big picnic dinner to revive my spirits.”

“That can be arranged,” Ned said, smiling.

Nancy wondered if Andrew would try to resist the sleepover, but all he said was, “I could bring some sleeping bags. We have tons of camping stuff in our attic at home. My family used to go camping a lot when I was a kid.”

“You can stay up all night and tell ghost stories,” Master Blaster said from where he was sweeping crystal shards nearby.

Nancy wished she'd been more careful to make sure no one overheard their plans. Colleen seemed to have heard them talking, too, because she walked over to Nancy a moment later.

“I know I'm not responsible for you the way I am for the other kids,” Colleen said, “but are you sure staying here's a good idea? You could be dealing with a very dangerous person.”

“We'll be fine,” Ned assured her. “There are four of us. You know what they say about safety in numbers.”

Colleen looked skeptical. “But what if something
happens to you? You're miles from the nearest police station.”

“Thanks for worrying about us,” Nancy said, “but we've been through a lot together. We've gotten pretty good at taking care of ourselves.”

With a shrug Colleen said, “Suit yourselves.” Stepping away, she called out, “Come on, Teen Works people! Anyone who's not sweeping, let's get back to the basement. We have to clean out the rest of the stuff by tomorrow night.”

As most of the teens followed Colleen out the ballroom door, Nancy turned to Andrew again.

“Would you mind if I borrowed Ned for the rest of the afternoon? I've got a little checking up I want to do,” she said. “We can pick up some food for dinner and meet you back here tonight for our camp-out.”

“Sure, if it will help you find whoever's doing all this stuff,” Andrew said. “See you guys later.”

“Where are we going?” Ned asked when they got to the lobby.

Nancy draped his leather jacket over his bad arm, then slipped on her down parka. “I thought this would be the perfect excuse to spend some time alone with you,” she said, grinning. “If we have to spend your vacation chasing after suspects, at least we can do it together.”

“There's no one I'd rather chase suspects with,” Ned said with a warm look that made Nancy tingle all over. “Who's first on our list?”

“I want to find out if the clay sample from the balcony matches the clay Julie works with,” Nancy said. “Then I want to go to Blaster's house and see if I can figure out what he's hiding.”

She and Ned got in the Mustang, and Nancy headed for the small road that curved around the lake and into the town of Moon Lake. As she approached A Show of Hands, Nancy saw that Julie and the middle-aged woman were just locking up the boutique.

“Hmm,” Ned said as Julie got into an old gray car and pulled away from the curb. “I guess you'll have to wait to check out that clay sample.”

Nancy slowed down, keeping a discreet distance behind Julie's car. “I'm going to follow her,” she decided.

After a short drive down curving, tree-lined roads, Nancy followed Julie's car into a suburban neighborhood.

“This is Melborne,” Ned said, reading a sign. “She's probably going home.”

A few minutes later Julie turned onto a quiet street and pulled up alongside a small but well-kept white house.

“Not too incriminating so far,” Ned said.

“No,” Nancy agreed. She parked diagonally across the street and watched as Julie got out of her car and headed up the front walk. After Julie had closed the front door behind her, Nancy said, “I'm going to try to talk to her.”

Ned nodded. “I'd better stay here. Julie knows
I'm Andrew's friend. If she sees me with you, she might not be too cooperative.”

“Good point,” Nancy said, opening her door. “I'll try not to be too long.”

After hurrying up the front walk, Nancy rang Julie's doorbell and waited. Half a minute later Julie opened the door. She looked even more tired than the day before, and her brown curly hair looked messy and unkempt. Nancy wondered if Julie had slept well the night before—or if she'd been busy sabotaging the cable at the inn.

Julie looked at Nancy in surprise. “Weren't you in my store yesterday?” she asked.

Nancy nodded, then said, “I know you're probably surprised to see me. I'm Nancy Drew.”

“That name sounds familiar for some reason.” Julie said, her gray eyes growing hazy.

“Could I talk to you for a minute? I'd like to ask you a couple of questions.”

“That's it,” Julie said, snapping her fingers. “I've heard Ned Nickerson talk about you. You're a detective, right?”

There was no point denying it. “Yes, but—”

“Did Andrew's father send you here?” Julie asked suspiciously.

“No,” Nancy said quickly. “Mr. Lockwood has nothing to do with this.”

“I don't believe you,” Julie retorted, scowling. “He's already had one private detective tailing me. Isn't that man ever satisfied? He's totally ruined my life.”

Julie slammed the door in Nancy's face, and Nancy heard the sound of a deadbolt locking.

“Please, Julie!” Nancy called, knocking on the door. “You've got it all wrong. . . .”

A few seconds later Nancy heard a stereo blasting loud rock music and saw the window shades being yanked down. Julie had made it very clear that she wasn't home—at least not for Nancy.

“What happened?” Ned asked when Nancy got back in the car.

“She wouldn't even talk to me,” Nancy said, buckling her seat belt. “She thinks I'm working for Andrew's father.”

“So what do we do now?” Ned asked.

“Let's find Blaster's house,” Nancy said. She flipped open her notebook to find the address. “I know he lives in Melborne, too. Here it is—Eighteen Rose Avenue. Maybe we could find a gas station.”

Ned's eyebrows knit together, and he said, “I thought we passed the street not far back. Why don't we turn around?”

Nancy made a U-turn, then headed the Mustang back the way they had come. After only a few blocks, she saw Rose Avenue off to the right. She turned onto it and drove several blocks until she came upon number eighteen, a two-story brick house.

Together, Nancy and Ned walked up to the front steps, and Nancy tapped on the iron door
knocker. A few moments later the door opened a crack, and an elderly woman peeped out at them. She wasn't very tall, but she was heavyset, with short, steel gray hair.

“Yes?” the woman asked.

“Hi, I'm Nancy Drew,” Nancy said pleasantly. “And this is Ned Nickerson. We're working with Blaster on the renovation of the Lakeside Inn.”

“Has something happened to him?” the old woman asked, her dark eyes fearful. “He said there'd been some accidents the past few days.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Nancy said quickly. “Blaster's fine. But we are trying to figure out who's been causing the accidents there, and we were wondering if we could talk to you.”

“Me?” the old woman asked, opening the door a little wider. “You don't think my grandson's responsible, do you? He's a good boy.”

“Blaster's your grandson?” Ned asked.

The old woman nodded. “He's lived with me since his parents died, ten years ago.”

“Oh, I'm very sorry,” Nancy said gently. “We don't know for sure who's responsible for what's happening at the inn,” she added. “But you might be able to help us rule out Blaster.”

The woman peered from Nancy to Ned to Ned's cast. After a long moment she said. “Please, come in. I'm Olivia Deekman.”

Mrs. Deekman showed them into a small living room furnished with heavy, dark wooden furniture. A fire crackled in a fireplace against
one wall, and dozens of framed photographs rested on the mantel. Nancy and Ned sat down on a green square-backed sofa as Blaster's grandmother settled in an armchair by the fireplace.

“What would you like to know?” Mrs. Deekman asked.

Nancy pulled from her purse the threatening note Natalia Diaz had found and held it out to Mrs. Deekman. “Does this look like Blaster's handwriting?” she asked.

Blaster's grandmother took the note and studied it, then shook her head. When Nancy asked her if she knew whether Blaster had any red enamel paint, the old woman said, “All he's got upstairs is a bunch of electronic equipment.”

“What about tools? Have you noticed any new ones in his room, like a soldering iron, drill bits, anything like that?” Ned asked, naming the items that had been taken from the inn.

The old woman shook her head again. “Hubert's got a pretty complete set already. He hasn't bought anything new in—”

“Hubert?” Ned repeated, his mouth falling open. “Is that his real name?”

The old woman lifted a hand to her mouth. “Oh, my. Hub—Blaster's going to be mad at me that I let it slip. He hates for people to find out. He's terribly embarrassed about it. I don't know why. It's a perfectly respectable name. He was named after my father.”

“Why did he change it?” Nancy asked, although she thought she knew the answer. The name didn't fit his cool image at all.

Mrs. Deekman sighed and stared into the fire. “In the past year and a half Hubert's changed drastically—and more than just his name. His looks, his personality, everything.”

Blaster's grandmother got up from her chair and walked over to the mantel, murmuring, “I think I have an old picture here somewhere.” She ran her finger lightly along the tops of the framed photographs until she found what she was looking for. “Here it is,” she announced.

Mrs. Deekman handed Nancy a silver-framed color photograph of her grandson, and Nancy stared at it in stunned silence.

“Hubert looked a lot different back then, didn't he?” Mrs. Deekman said.

That was the understatement of the year, Nancy thought. Master Blaster did indeed look different. The photograph showed a scrawny kid with dark brown hair, owlish glasses, and a jacket that looked two sizes too big.

“I think the change started when his old girlfriend broke up with him,” Mrs. Deekman went on. “Hubert was devastated. I think he was hoping that if he changed his image, he'd win her back.”

Nancy looked curiously at the older woman. “Did the plan work?” she asked.