Very Deadly Yours (4 page)

As it turned out, Lena's job was fairly simple. Personal ads that were placed in person were left downstairs with the receptionist. More often, the
ads were mailed in. Each “advertiser” was assigned a box number, and people who answered the ad mailed their responses to the box numbers.

“They never phone in?” Nancy asked.

“No,” Lena said impatiently. “Sometimes they try, but I cut them off. It would take forever if everyone phoned in their responses.”

“So you'd never see anyone who placed an ad in person?” Nancy asked.

“That's right.”

Nancy sighed. That meant she'd have to talk to the receptionist downstairs, the same one who tried to keep her from seeing Mr. Whittaker. Between the receptionist and Lena, she was going to be having some pretty grim conversations.

“I'd like to look at the ads that have come in for this week,” she said. “But I guess I'll do that tomorrow. Thanks for your help, Lena. I'll go and say goodbye to Mr. Whittaker, and then try to talk to the receptionist. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Lena had already turned back to her computer, and she didn't answer.

“You settling in okay?” Mr. Whittaker boomed out when Nancy peeked in at his door.

“Just fine,” she said. “I was wondering if I could have a note from you to take to the receptionist downstairs. I'd like to ask her a few
questions, and I think she'll be more likely to answer if she knows you've okayed it.”

“I'll make it even easier than that,” Mr. Whittaker answered, picking up the phone and dialing. “I'll just call her right now. Hello, Dawn? Listen, a very nice girl named Nancy Drew is about to come downstairs to ask you a few questions. You go ahead and answer her, and don't worry too much about correct office procedure.

“That ought to do it,” he said, hanging up.

“Thanks a lot, Mr. Whittaker,” Nancy said. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Dawn was a lot more helpful than she had been that morning. As helpful as she could be, anyway, considering that no ads had been placed in person for the past three weeks. She hadn't noticed anything about the guy who'd placed Bess's ad because there hadn't been anything to see. As Nancy walked out of the
Record
building toward the parking lot, she was beginning to wonder if this case would ever go anywhere.

She was thinking so hard that she didn't notice the hunched figure leaning against her car until she was about to open the door. It was Lena Verle.

“I just talked to the guy who placed that ad!” she gasped. “He said to tell you that you'll die if you investigate this case!”

I
RAN OUT
here to warn you,” Lena went on as Nancy stared at her. “I'm glad I caught you in time. He sounds like a real monster.” Lena was so animated that she seemed like a different person.

“What did he say? Could you start at the beginning?” Nancy asked, speaking calmly. She could hardly believe the man could have caught up with her so fast.

“There's not much to tell, really,” Lena said. “Right after you'd left, I got a phone call from a guy asking for you. When I said you'd gone for the day, he got pretty angry. He asked for your home phone number, and when I told him I
didn't have it, he started swearing and—and told me what I just told you, that you'll die if you investigate this any further.”

“It seems unbelievable,” Nancy said. “I can't think of a single way he could have found out about me. Unless—”

She was thinking aloud now, and Lena was watching her closely. “Unless Mr. Whittaker had accidentally told him. But that's impossible! No, I can't believe it's Mr. Whittaker,” she continued. “But he's the only person I told besides—” Suddenly Nancy caught her breath. “Dawn! She must have put the call through. I'm going right back in there to talk to her.”

“Oh, I wouldn't bother,” Lena said nervously. “I'm sure Dawn didn't—”

Nancy was already striding across the parking lot. After a second, Lena followed her.

“I still don't think you should—” Lena was protesting as Nancy strode through the double doors into the lobby.

“Lena Verle just got a threatening call from the man I'm looking for,” she said. “It would have been about five minutes ago. Did you notice anything about the voice of the guy who called her?”

Dawn looked bewildered. “No one's called here in the last five minutes,” she said. “She hasn't had any calls so far today.”

“Maybe he called on my direct line,” Lena put in quickly.

“But you don't
have
a—” Dawn said as Lena spoke again.

“What about your friend, Nancy?” she said.
“She
knew about this. Maybe she called this guy and told him what was going on.”

“You mean Bess? That's ridiculous,” Nancy said. “Bess is terrified of the man!”

“That's what she says,” Lena answered.

“What?”
Nancy said incredulously.

“Anyway, isn't this all beside the point?” Lena went on. “It doesn't matter how this guy found out about you. Your life is in danger, Nancy! You're not going to investigate any further, are you?”

“Of course I am!” Nancy answered.

“But you can't!”

Wait a minute, Nancy thought to herself. Why is Lena suddenly so concerned for my safety? “You sound as though you want me to stop investigating,” she said thoughtfully.

“Oh, no, it's not that! It's just that when I realized that you might actually get killed, I guess I—well, worried about you. And you
will
stop, won't you?”

There was a pause.

“Won't you?” Lena repeated.

“The timing,” Nancy said slowly. “The timing
is
too convenient. You say you got this call right after I'd left?”

“That's—that's right.”

“And you have a direct line, you say?”

“No, she doesn't,” said Dawn. “Not unless they've put one in for her today. Can somebody please tell me what's going on here?”

“I think maybe Lena can,” said Nancy, but Lena had just bolted outside through the main door.

“Dawn, I'll fill you in later,” Nancy said grimly. “But it'll have to wait until I get this straightened out.”

Lena had a head start across the parking lot, but Nancy was quicker. In a matter of seconds she had caught up with Lena and grabbed her shoulder.

“All right, tell
me
what's going on,” Nancy said. “And I want the facts this time, please.”

There were tears in Lena's eyes when she turned to face Nancy.

“You're going to get me fired, aren't you?” she cried. “You think it's my fault this all happened!”

“Nobody's trying to get anyone fired,” Nancy said more gently.

“Yes, you are! You'll tell Mr. Whittaker it's because of me that that guy's ad ran in the paper! But I don't know who he was! I was just doing my job! Please, you've got to stop your investigation! Everyone hates me, and I need this job so badly!” Tears were running down her face now.

“You pretended you'd gotten the call so I'd go away and leave you alone?” Nancy asked.

“Of course I did! What would
you
have done?”

“But, Lena, I don't think you're responsible for what's happened,” said Nancy sympathetically. “I'm not trying to get you in trouble—really, I'm not. I just want to stop this guy before he hurts anyone. Okay?”

Lena sniffed. “Do you promise?”

“I promise. Besides, Mr. Whittaker spoke very highly of you. Don't you realize that if you help with the investigation you'll look even better on the job?”

Lena was silent for a minute. “I guess you're right,” she said at last.

“As far as everyone hating you—well, perhaps you should try to be more friendly and get to know people.”

Lena looked away. “It's just that I'm so worried all the time. I'm afraid someone will notice what a bad job I'm doing.”

“Why do you think you're doing a bad job? You seem to me to be doing a good job,” Nancy said warmly. “Come on, I'll walk back to the building with you.”

Then she heard a familiar voice. “Nancy!” She turned to see Ned jogging toward her.

“I stopped by your house, and Hannah told me you were here. I just thought I'd come by and see if you had time to—oh, am I interrupting something?” he said as he caught sight of Lena's tear-stained face.

“Not at all,” Nancy said. “We were just heading back to the paper for a minute. I'll be free to
leave then. This is Lena Verle, by the way. She's going to be helping me with the investigation.”

As the three of them continued to walk across the parking lot, Ned stopped suddenly. “Stone in my shoe,” he said, and bent down to take it out.

At that moment they heard the roar of a car as it moved toward them. Nancy glanced up—and gasped.

A dark blue car was heading straight at her. Nancy jumped out of the way, pulling Lena with her.

“Ned!” she shouted. “Look out!”

But the car hit Ned full force, hurling him high into the air, and sped away before he hit the ground with a terrible thud.

F
OR A HORRIBLE
moment everything stood still, and then Nancy dashed toward Ned. “Get the license-plate number!” she said over her shoulder to Lena.

Ned was lying on his back, his head bent at a sickeningly sharp angle. His mouth was half open. His face was gray, and it felt clammy when Nancy touched it. He was absolutely still.

Oh, no, no! Please let him be alive, she thought frantically to herself as she felt his neck for a pulse. She almost sobbed with relief when she realized his heart was still beating. His pulse was shallow and rapid, though. He'd gone into shock.

Nancy didn't dare try to move him, in case
he'd hurt his spine. The only thing she could do was to make him as comfortable as possible. “Oh, where's Lena?” she moaned as she raced toward her car.

There was a blanket in the trunk. She put it there only a few weeks before when she'd been planning a picnic, and now she breathed a silent prayer for having forgotten to take it out. She ran back and placed it gently over Ned.

Should she put something under his feet to elevate them? she wondered, and then realized that he might have hurt his head. If he had, raising his feet would do more harm than good.

Nancy looked around. Should she leave Ned alone and go for help? She'd have to, if—oh, there was Lena rushing back at last.

“Nancy!” Lena was panting and apologetic. “He—he got away. I couldn't read the plate number. My glasses are back at the—”

“Go in and call an ambulance!” Nancy said, interrupting her. “I'll wait here.”

“Shouldn't we put a pillow under his head?” Lena asked. “My jacket—”

“No!” Nancy said emphatically. “It might hurt his neck. Just go!”

Lena rushed toward the
Record
building without a backward glance, and Nancy was left alone to wait.

She sat down on the cold asphalt and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, Ned,” she whispered. “I'm so, so sorry.” It nearly broke her heart to
see him in his present condition, and she yearned for the ambulance to come.

Nancy was sure the accident hadn't really been an accident. The driver of that car had meant to hit someone—her. Poor Ned had been at the wrong place at the exact wrong time.

Would he die?

She couldn't let herself think about that. Nancy glanced at her watch. She had probably been sitting there for only a couple of minutes. Depending on traffic, it would take at least five minutes for an ambulance to reach them.

Another minute passed, and Mr. Whittaker, looking solid and reassuring to Nancy, came running toward her. “Lena said to tell you they're on their way,” he said. “She called me right after she'd called the ambulance. She wanted to come back out with me, but I told her to sit tight—no sense in having the whole staff out here. Is that the ambulance?”