Poison Pen (13 page)

She stood up, ignoring the spots that were beginning to dance in front of her eyes. Grabbing Bill Keating's maple desk chair, she dragged it over to the nearer of the two windows.

All she had to do was pick it up and swing it through the glass. Come on, you can do it! she told herself.

But it looked so impossibly heavy, another part of her moaned.

“Do it!” she said out loud in a harsh voice.

With a tremendous effort Nancy picked up the wooden chair and heaved it forward, smashing it into the glass pane. Sparkling shards flew outward, showering onto the sloping porch roof.

Nancy stuck her head out the window and greedily gulped air into her lungs. It was warm and tangy, but at least it didn't have ether in it!

After wrapping her hand in the velvet curtain, she knocked the remaining splinters of glass out of the window frame. Then she crossed the room and stood over Chris Trout, who still hadn't budged. This part was going to be really hard.

“Okay, Mr. Trout, are you ready?” she asked him. He didn't answer.

“Shall I take that as a yes?” Nancy giggled,
suddenly light-headed. “Well, ready or not, here I come—and here you go.”

She stooped, grabbed Trout's limp arms, and hauled him up to a sitting position. His head lolled to one side. “Boy, you're a heavy sleeper,” she chided him.

Twisting around so that her back was to him, she draped his arms over her shoulders and clasped her hands around his wrists. Then, slowly and laboriously, she began dragging him toward the open window. It was incredibly hard. Trout's muscular frame was heavier than it looked, and Nancy was already quite weak.

Suddenly she felt resistance. Looking down, she saw that one of Trout's dragging feet had gotten stuck between two pieces of furniture. Not now, Drew. You don't have the time or strength!

Nancy had to put him down to free him. She had such difficulty lifting him again that for a few dreadful moments she thought she might not be able to do it.

“Come on, Mr. Trout,” she pleaded, gasping for breath. “Can't you help?” But he didn't stir.

Finally she got him onto her back again. Perspiring from the exertion, she lugged him the last few feet and draped his limp form over the windowsill. Then she reached for his feet
and unceremoniously shoved him forward. He slid through the window and landed in a heap on the porch roof.

“Okay, me next,” Nancy panted. She climbed through the window and out onto the roof. “Phase one complete,” she murmured.

Next Nancy grabbed Trout by the feet and slid him down the gently sloping roof. It was easier than dragging him across the carpet, but Nancy was already thinking ahead to what had to come next. She wasn't certain she could handle it. Somehow she had to get him off the roof without breaking his neck—or her own—in the process.

Leaning over the edge of the roof, she peered down. Good. The drop didn't look to be more than eight or nine feet. Directly below her was the front lawn, and the grass looked soft and springy. That's the first thing that's gone right today, she thought with a wry smile.

She sat back and took a deep breath. Then she turned Trout over so that he was lying on his stomach with his feet pointing toward the edge of the roof.

Inch by inch she lowered him over the edge of the roof. At last, when his legs and lower torso were dangling, Nancy could no longer hold him. She let go, and he slid the rest of the way off the roof, landing in the grass with a thud.

Without pausing, Nancy sat on the edge of
the roof and then pushed off with her hands. She dropped heavily to the ground beside Trout.

Her muscles were aching, but she couldn't rest yet. She knew they were still too close to the house. If the attic was to go up now, they could still be seriously injured. Gritting her teeth, Nancy grasped Trout's hands and began to drag him away from the house, toward the thicket of trees and bushes that surrounded it.

They had crossed the driveway and were nearly at the trees when the explosion hit. A muffled thud came through the air from the attic. It sounded strangely soft, and at first Nancy didn't know what it was. Then the shock from the blast knocked her right off her feet, sending her sprawling in the grass. She threw her arms over her head to protect herself.

Peeking up, Nancy watched as the top of the Keatings' house erupted. It was as if the attic were a huge balloon that had been filled too full and had burst. Chunks of roof flew straight up into the air, and bits of wall blew out in every direction. Brick, mortar, and wood hailed down onto the lawn.

When the dust settled, Nancy saw that the entire upper half of the house was gone. Here and there orange flames shot up out of the ruins. She gulped. If we'd still been in there, she thought. If we hadn't gotten out . . .

Nancy started at the sound of a car door
slamming behind her. Had someone come to rescue them? Maybe Ned—

As she got to her feet and turned around, the welcoming words died on her lips.

Mr. Keating had come back! He stopped on the driveway, giving her a cold smile. “Miss Drew, isn't it?” When she nodded, he shook his head, and said, “It's a good thing I came back to check the damage. You keep popping up when I don't expect you,” he said. “It was you on the bridge last night, wasn't it?”

Again Nancy nodded. She knew he planned to kill her. Her eyes darted around her, but she couldn't think of any way to escape. After what she'd been through, she knew she was far too weak to struggle against him.

Come on, Drew! her thoughts clamored. You just got yourself out of one of the worst messes you've ever been in. Surely you can come up with some way to outwit this goon. At least you can stall him until Trout comes around!

“Who'd have guessed, when you came to me for approval of that withdrawal the other day, that you'd be causing me so much trouble in such a short time?” Keating said, sighing.

Nancy raised her head and forced herself to smile. “I can be quite a troublemaker,” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. “And I think you've already found out that I'm very hard to get rid of.”

“Mmm, yes.” Keating looked thoughtful. “I
don't know how you managed to get this far, but I do congratulate you. You're a resourceful girl.”

Nancy didn't like his smug tone. He knew he had the upper hand, but she wasn't about to just buckle under. “Well, Mr. Keating,” she said firmly, “it looks as if your plan has failed.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Keating said coolly. He glanced up at the house. “No, I think the situation can still be repaired.”

“How?” Nancy asked. She didn't really want to know, but she needed to keep distracting him.

“I saw enough in the war to know that the body of someone who's been in a fire is very difficult to identify. And there does seem to be a flame or two up there.” Keating pointed up at the second story of the house. “I think I'll just put you back there and let nature take its course. It will be easy to claim your body as my wife's.”

He turned toward her. Horrified, Nancy tried to back away, but the combination of fear and exhaustion had made her muscles utterly useless.

He was coming at her, and she couldn't move!

N
ANCY STARED HELPLESSLY
as Mr. Keating began to cross the driveway toward her.

The sound of a car engine made her turn, and Nancy saw her blue Mustang roar up the drive, heading straight for Mr. Keating.

He leapt backward with a shout. “What the—?”

The Mustang's door flew open, and Mrs. Keating stepped out. Her gaze lit on Nancy, and Nancy thought she saw relief in the woman's eyes. Then Mrs. Keating turned to her husband and said in a shaking voice, “We can't do this, Bill.”

“Listen to your wife, Mr. Keating,” Nancy called to him. “She's trying to save you from a life behind bars.”

Keating ignored her. “Maggie, what kind of
nonsense is this?” he demanded of his wife. “You know we can't stop now. We're in way too deep.”

“No, Bill,” Mrs. Keating pleaded. “You're wrong! If I let you kill these people,
then
it'll be too late. Cheating the insurance company was one thing, but I can't go along with murder!”

“You already have,” Keating snapped. He gestured toward Nancy. “If this girl hadn't managed to get out before the house went up, you'd be an accessory after the fact right now. So don't get self-righteous with me.”

Stepping around the car, he continued toward Nancy. She tensed, but she knew she couldn't hold him off for long—she was still too weak. “It's up to you, Mrs. Keating,” she called. “You're the only one who can stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life.”

“She won't stop me,” Keating scoffed. “My wife is in this up to her neck.”

Just then tires squealed on the Keatings' winding driveway, causing Mr. Keating to glance over his shoulder. A second later a green Chevy sedan came into sight. Ned!

As the car screeched to a halt, Nancy felt a rush of relief so intense that she thought her knees would buckle. As Ned leapt out of the car, Brenda's red sports car pulled up with Bess, George, Rick, and Brenda all crammed inside. All five of them raced over to Nancy.

“Am I glad to see you guys!” Nancy cried. But then, looking over Ned's shoulder, she saw
the desperate look on Mr. Keating's face. In a flash he turned and started across the lawn at a run.

“Don't let him get away!” she cried, pointing.

Ned and Rick caught up to him in a flash and wrestled him to the ground. Keating's face twisted with fury. “You punks!” he growled, still struggling. Then Ned stunned him with a well-placed blow to the jaw.

As Keating went limp, Ned rubbed his fist and looked satisfied. “That was for last night,” he said. Leaving Rick to handle his uncle, Ned rose to his feet and rushed back to Nancy, putting his arms around her. “Are you okay?” he asked tenderly.

Nancy hugged him as hard as she could. “How in the world did you know I'd be here?” she asked.

“I called your house, and Hannah told me you'd gone tearing out ten minutes earlier shouting something about stopping a murder,” Ned told her. “Well, I know my Nancy,” he went on, grinning affectionately. “I figured you had either gone here or to Brenda's. I called Brenda, and you weren't there, so that left here. So I told Brenda to call Bess and George for backup, and then I drove over. I want you to know I broke the speed limit all the way.”

“I'm glad you did,” Nancy said, giggling. She felt giddy now that she was out of danger, but she knew it wasn't over quite yet. Turning
to Bess and George, she said, “Guys, there's some rope in the trunk of my car. Maybe we should tie Mr. Keating up, just in case he wakes up and wants to go somewhere.”

“Okay, boss.” George made a salute and headed for Nancy's Mustang. “I'll run to a neighbor's and call the fire department, too.”

“Nan, you're kind of pale,” Bess said anxiously. “Are you really all right?”

With a grateful smile Nancy assured her, “Now that you guys are here, I am.” She looked over at Mrs. Keating, who was standing by herself next to Nancy's car.

“Mrs. Keating, I guess I owe you some thanks, too,” Nancy said, going over to her. “If you hadn't had second thoughts, I probably wouldn't be standing here right now.”

“Aunt Maggie!” Rick exclaimed, rushing to his aunt's side. “Hey, are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?”

Mrs. Keating glanced from her nephew to Nancy with a pale, blank expression. She looked as if she'd been carved from a block of ice.

“Aunt Maggie?” Rick repeated when she didn't answer. “Hey, what's the matter?”

Nancy cleared her throat. Suddenly she felt sad—sad for Rick, who was about to learn the awful truth about his favorite aunt, and even a little sad for Mrs. Keating herself.

“Rick,” Nancy said softly. “I think your aunt has something to tell you.”

“What do you mean?” Rick looked puzzled.

Instead of answering, Nancy looked expectantly at Mrs. Keating.

“All right!” Mrs. Keating burst out suddenly. “I'll tell him.” She turned to Rick, her eyes filling with tears. “Your uncle wasn't trying to kill me, Rick,” she explained in a shaky voice. “The whole thing was a scam, from beginning to end. Bill and I planned to fake my death in an accident, so that we could collect the insurance money and start fresh somewhere else.”

A shocked silence fell over the group. Rick's jaw dropped, and he stared at his aunt.

Poor guy, Nancy thought with a pang. She was pleased when Brenda moved forward and took his hand without a word. Rick hardly seemed to notice. He just continued gazing at his aunt, a look of horror on his face.

“Don't stare at me like that,” Mrs. Keating cried. She turned her back, and Nancy saw her shoulders heave with her sobbing.