Troubled Waters (Nancy Drew (All New) Girl Detective Book 23) (9 page)

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll have to add that to my list of questions,” I said. “Too bad I still don’t have any answers.”

H
old up a sec. Something doesn’t feel right,” Bess said.

It was that evening, and she, George, and I had just gotten out of my car in front of Deirdre Shannon’s house. A string of cars lined the road ahead of us. People in jackets, ties, dresses, and heels flowed up the walk—lined with colorful Chinese lanterns—toward the front door. The night air was filled with laughter, talking, and music, but I agreed with Bess.

“I’ve got a weird feeling too,” I said, smoothing the skirt of my wraparound dress. “I don’t think I’ll be in much of a party mood until I figure out what the attacks on the foundry are all about—and who’s responsible.”

“Oh, I’m in a party mood. I was talking about
something else.” Bess arched a teasing eyebrow at me and gestured to the couple strolling up the curved walk ahead of us. “Where’s all the plaster dust? Where are the work boots and bandannas and hammers and saws and plywood and pipes? I’ve gotten so used to that stuff that it feels strange to be around people wearing nice clothes and makeup.”

“Plaster dust and work boots aren’t exactly Deirdre’s style,” George said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, it’ll be fun to hang out with everyone
away
from a construction site for a change. I mean, even all those bad floods shouldn’t stop us from having a good time, right?”

Leave it to Bess and George to stop me from taking things too seriously. After all, why shouldn’t we have fun tonight? Lighten up, Drew, I told myself sternly.

But as we headed inside, my mind was still on all the questions I had about the attacks on the foundry. Why had the person broken through to those two sealed-off rooms? There had to be a reason, but I couldn’t think of what it was. And what about J.C.? Were the attacks aimed at him? Was Craig behind them, the way J.C. claimed? Was there a reason those particular photographs and floor plan had been taken—or had the person just grabbed any old things at random?

Then there was the biggest question on my mind, the one I hated even to consider.

“Have you guys seen Brad or Tanya?” I asked Bess and George.

George shot a surprised glance at me as we made our way into the living room. “You
really
think they had something to do with last night’s break-in at the foundry?” she asked.

I shrugged, gazing at the swarming, jumping, swaying people who were dancing. Someone waved, and it took me a second to make out Owen—in a black jacket, slate gray crew-neck shirt, and pleated trousers—dancing with a bunch of volunteers. I smiled back, but I wasn’t quite ready to join them yet.

“Brad didn’t give me a chance to talk to him today,” I said to George and Bess. “Owen kept us all busy after I got back from the Historical Society. Brad worked straight through lunch, and when I tried to talk to him, he said he was too busy. The second Owen told us to quit for the day, Brad took off, so I couldn’t talk to him then, either.”

“And now he’s not here,” George added. “At least, not that I can see.”

As we looked around, I saw some of the guys from Brad’s team dancing with Owen and the other volunteers. Travis and some of the other Bullets were there too. But not Brad.

So much for lightening up. “I really hope he didn’t have anything to do with the attacks,” Bess said. “And Tanya, too. I mean, she worked just as hard as anyone on our team today. And she’s so nice. . . . I just can’t believe she had anything to do with the attacks on the foundry.”

The blinding flash of a camera made me blink. I looked through the arched doorway to the dining room buffet. I groaned when I saw Deirdre and J.C. Valdez smiling for a photographer from the
River Heights Bugle
. The two of them barreled past us a moment later, heading for the dance floor.

“You promised your first dance to me, remember?” Deirdre said coyly.

“I’m all yours,” J.C. told her. “For a while, anyway. I’m going to have to leave early to drive over to my parents’ new house in Woodburn.”

“But you’re the guest of honor! Can’t you go tomorrow?” Deirdre said, pouting.

J.C. smiled apologetically. “It’s an hour away. You wouldn’t want me to break a promise to my mom, would you?” he said.

Deirdre didn’t look very happy, but she didn’t complain as J.C. led her to the dance floor. As they started dancing, he shimmied close to her, then angled a smug look back toward the buffet.

That was when I noticed Craig Reynolds. He stood holding a plate of shrimp, watching J.C. and Deirdre with hooded eyes.

“If you ask me, Craig’s the one you should be keeping an eye on,” Bess said. “Not Brad and Tanya. Oh, there’s Tanya now!”

She pointed toward the far end of the buffet, where Tanya stood in a red dress with fringe at the hem and a rainbow-striped scarf wrapped around her braids. She grinned when she saw us.

“Those seafood pastry puffs are to die for,” Tanya said, pointing to a tray on the buffet.

Bess took a plate, but as she reached for the little pastries, I turned to Tanya. “Could we talk? Someplace that’s not so crowded?” I asked.

Tanya met my gaze with steady eyes. “Sure,” she said. She nodded toward some French doors that led to a patio outside. “How about out there?”

Bess and George followed as we made our way outside. Chinese lanterns hung along the edges of the patio, but the garden beyond was shrouded in shadows. There was a chill in the air that made goose bumps pop out on my arms.

“Brad told me you were asking where we were last night,” Tanya said, closing the French doors behind us. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sort of.” My heels clicked on the slate as I walked
over to one of the patio chairs and sat down. “Whoever broke into the foundry last night got in through a window next to the cliffs. There were muddy prints inside.”

“What does that have to do with Brad and me?” Tanya asked, taking the chair next to mine.

I took a deep breath before answering. “Brad was totally muddy when you dropped him off at Cedar Plains High,” I said.

Tanya stared at me, then shook her head. “You think
we
snuck in and smashed those sinks? That’s crazy!”

“I tried to tell you, Nancy,” Bess began.

“I have to consider every possibility,” I said quickly. “And since Brad wouldn’t tell me what you two were doing—”

“You figured we were out wrecking the apartments we’re all trying so hard to build?” Tanya snapped. Her eyes flashed angrily as she turned from me to Bess to George. “Do you really think I’d do anything to hurt all the work Helping Homes is doing? Or that Brad would?”

It
was
hard to picture either of them doing anything so destructive. Brad was practically like family to Dad and me! Still, I couldn’t squelch the niggling doubts in my mind. “Just tell us what you were doing, then,” I said.

Tanya’s eyes flitted uncertainly over the garden for a long moment before she spoke. “I can’t do that,” she said at last.

“Why not?” Bess asked, staring in surprise at Tanya.

“I just can’t. You’ll have to trust Brad and me, that’s all,” Tanya said. “We didn’t have anything to do with all the stuff that happened at the foundry.”

Tanya got to her feet. “Let’s just forget about this and have fun, okay?” she said, shooting a tentative smile at us. “Anyone up for some dancing?”

“Count me in!” Bess answered. She headed for the French doors, and George followed.

“Me too. Coming, Nancy?” she said, raising an eyebrow at me.

“In a minute,” I told them.

The click of the closing doors echoed in the cool night. I definitely needed some time to think. Stepping off the patio, I moved into the calm, quiet shadows of the garden. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I made out shadowy clumps of shrubs and flowers and a wall of hedges along the perimeter. I walked alongside the hedge, breathing in the smell of freshly cut grass.

Tanya had asked us to trust her, but could we? I replayed our conversation in my mind. Tanya acted genuinely shocked that we would suspect her of any
wrongdoing. Still, if she and Brad
hadn’t
been up to anything suspicious, why wouldn’t she talk about what they
had
done? It just didn’t seem possible that—

I stopped short, suddenly aware of a rustling in the hedges.

“Hello?” I said. “Bess? George? Is that you?”

I stood still, listening. At first all I heard was the pounding of my own heart. Then there was something more—the swish of a foot brushing across the grass.

“Who’s there?” I called sharply.

I waited for an answer. But all I heard were the steady sounds of breathing coming from the other side of the hedge.

W
ho is it?” I said again, though my voice didn’t sound nearly as firm as I’d intended. All at once I was hyperaware of how dark and deserted the Shannons’ garden was.

Get a grip! I told myself.

A sudden rustling on the other side of the hedge shocked me into action. I heard rapid, thumping footsteps—whoever was there had taken off, heading farther into the garden.

“No way. You’re not getting away that easily,” I said under my breath.

Pushing off with my heels, I took off in the same direction. The thick hedges blocked my view, but snapping, rustling branches told me I wasn’t far behind whoever was on the other side.

Suddenly, a dark shadow burst through a break in the hedge ahead of me. The person moved so fast that all I saw was a blur shooting past shadowy clumps of flowers and the chunky silhouette of some kind of urn.

“Drat!” I groaned as I stumbled on my heels. I yanked them off, but when I looked up again, the quick-moving shadow was disappearing around the far edge of the garden.

Clutching my shoes, I sped in the same direction. As I rounded the corner of the Shannons’ house, I heard music inside, but my eyes stayed glued to the shrubs and trees in front of me. I couldn’t help wishing the Shannons’ landscaping wasn’t quite so elaborate. I had totally lost sight of the person among the greenery.

Where
are
you? I thought, tearing around to the front of the house. Breathing hard, I scanned the front yard. The Chinese lanterns lit up the neatly trimmed grass—and a solitary figure standing at the curb. He turned slightly, and I saw his face in the colorful glow.

“Craig?” I said.

The red paper lantern made his hair look more fiery than usual. Stepping between two cars, he stared at the glowing taillights of a car that was disappearing down the road.

I caught up to him a moment later. “What are you doing out here?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.

“Huh?” Craig flinched as I touched his arm. He turned toward me, and I saw that he was breathing hard. Bits of grass stuck to his shoes. He glanced distractedly at me before staring back down the road. “I, uh . . . just came out to get some air,” he said.

“By sprinting through the garden?” I stepped between the cars and planted myself in front of him. “Were you eavesdropping on my friends and me?” I asked.

“Friends? I don’t see any friends,” Craig looked pointedly at the empty space behind me, then nodded at my grass-covered feet and the shoes in my hand. “Anyway, looks like
you’re
the one who’s been running through the garden.”

I stifled a groan. The guy obviously wasn’t going to give me a straight answer. “I was chasing someone who . . .”

My voice trailed off as I spotted something in the shadow of the parked car right next to us. It was small and rectangular—maybe a book? It lay on the pavement a few feet from Craig’s feet. Hmm, I thought. Had he dropped it?

“Someone who what?” Craig asked me, an impatient edge in his voice.

“Someone who, um . . .” I let one of my shoes fall to
the pavement. Maybe it wasn’t the most original ploy in the world, but I hoped Craig would buy it. “Oops!” I said, bending to pick up my shoe. Just before grabbing it, I quickly scooped up the object I’d spotted. My fingers closed around a small leather notebook. I slipped it up my sleeve and then straightened up again, keeping my back to Craig.

“Never mind. I guess I was wrong,” I said, flashing him a smile over my shoulder. “Sorry to bother you.”

I hurried back up the walk to the house, clutching the shoes—and notebook—in front of me. Just before I went in, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Craig staring after me. I slipped inside, shut the door behind me, and wound through the crowd until I found George and Bess dancing in the living room.

“What’s with the bare feet?” Bess asked.

With so many people jammed in close to us, I didn’t want to talk about what had happened.

“I’ll tell you later,” I said. Then, dropping the notebook quickly into my bag, I put my shoes back on and started to dance.

“I can’t wait anymore. Show us that book you found, Nancy!” George said.

She leaned over our table at Scoops, our favorite ice-cream place, and used a straw to stir her chocolate
milk shake. All our dancing at Deirdre’s had made us hungry, and we figured Scoops was as good a place as any to look at the notebook I’d picked up.

“It’s right here,” I told her. Sticking my spoon into the banana split Bess and I were sharing, I pulled the little notebook from my bag.

“Craig dropped it, huh?” Bess said. Taking the leather book from me, she fingered the cover. “It looks pretty old. Check out how worn and cracked the leather is.”

“Not to mention smelly.” George crinkled up her nose in distaste. “There’s mildew on the cover—like it’s been sitting in some dank basement.” She leaned closer as Bess opened the cover.

“It’s a journal,” Bess said, reading the slanted writing on the yellowed page. “The guy wrote his name: Bernard Tilden. And there’s the date. Nineteen fifty-five.”

“Bernard Tilden?” The name definitely rang a bell—then I had it. “He was the accountant at the Davis Foundry!”

“The one Mr. Eldridge said stole all that money?” Bess glanced up from the old book, her eyes wide. “Maybe he wrote about it in his journal!”