usually reserves case histories for registered members of police forces.”
“Dad,” said Nancy, looking up and tucking the papers back into the envelope, “I can’t thank you enough. This is great, really. Now, I know this is a bit much to ask, but—”
“Hold it right there,” said Carson, putting up a hand and shaking his head. “If you’re going to ask me to go back and get you more information . . .”
“Just one or two more things, really, Dad,” begged Nancy. “I’m so close, so close!”
Carson took a deep breath. “Sometimes I wish I had become a baker. That way if you got involved with my business—”
Nancy looked up from the table where she waswriting down her request for information. “Dad,” she said soberly, stopping his thought. “I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
“I know,” said Carson. “Give me the request. FU see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Dad,” said Nancy, hugging him and stuffing the paper in his suit pocket. “When you’re old and gray, I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”
“Never mind that.” Carson laughed, rising tiredly to his feet. “Just promise me you’ll make our matinee Sunday. We’ve missed one show already.”
“I wouldn’t miss this one if my life depended on it,” Nancy said, planting a quick kiss on her father’s cheek.
“Bye, girls,” he said, going to the door. “I’m going to see if I can wake anyone connected with Interpol. Be careful. All right?”
“Promise,” said Nancy, already planning her next move.
• • •
The minute the door closed behind him, the three girls took up their positions. Bess and George had been in some pretty tight situations with Nancy, so remaining still and quiet wasn’t so bad, except that it gave them time to consider what a terrifying thing they were doing.
An hour went by, and still nothing had happened. The three friends began to grow uncomfortableand nervous in the darkness of the room. Only the shadows thrown by the city lights gave them any sense of where things were in the room.
Nancy couldn’t help worrying. This was her last chance to catch her quarry. If the killer didn’t rise to the bait, all her work would have been for nothing. Sarah Amberly’s killer would get away, and Nancy would have to go back to River Heights empty-handed.
But time was running out. Nancy knew she couldn’t ask George and Bess to hang around much longer. They were frightened, and they had good reason. If the murderer did show up, the odds were he’d be armed—and they knew it.
Bess kept sniffling and blowing her nose. The dust from the netting was getting to her. George was bearing up somewhat better, but Nancy knew that her friends’ patience was wearing thin. This wasn’t their idea of a good time in New York City.
To pass the time, Bess started to tell a ghost story. It was one she’d heard around the fire at camp, a long time ago. Then George told one, and then Nancy. By the time midnight rolled around, their nerves were jumping.
“What was that?” screamed Bess, when a window rattled in its casing. The others nearly leaped out of their skins. They were walking a razor’s edge, and the tension was high.
“Nancy, come on.” Bess sighed. “Can’t we justforget the whole thing? I mean, this is the Big Apple! There’s one huge party going on down there, and we’re missing all the fun!”
“Bess has a point, Nan,” agreed George. “This doesn’t exactly seem to be panning out. Can’t we—”
Suddenly the girls fell deadly silent. A floorboard had creaked outside—someone was coming!
“I sure hope it isn’t my dad again,” whispered Nancy.
“What do you mean?” said George, her jaw tight with terror. “If it’s not your dad, then—”
Their eyes fell to the doorknob as it started to turn. It clicked, and the door creaked slowly open.
Just then, just when they had the killer in their grasp, Bess leaned back and sneezed the biggest, noisiest
“Dad,” said Nancy, looking up and tucking the papers back into the envelope, “I can’t thank you enough. This is great, really. Now, I know this is a bit much to ask, but—”
“Hold it right there,” said Carson, putting up a hand and shaking his head. “If you’re going to ask me to go back and get you more information . . .”
“Just one or two more things, really, Dad,” begged Nancy. “I’m so close, so close!”
Carson took a deep breath. “Sometimes I wish I had become a baker. That way if you got involved with my business—”
Nancy looked up from the table where she waswriting down her request for information. “Dad,” she said soberly, stopping his thought. “I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
“I know,” said Carson. “Give me the request. FU see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Dad,” said Nancy, hugging him and stuffing the paper in his suit pocket. “When you’re old and gray, I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”
“Never mind that.” Carson laughed, rising tiredly to his feet. “Just promise me you’ll make our matinee Sunday. We’ve missed one show already.”
“I wouldn’t miss this one if my life depended on it,” Nancy said, planting a quick kiss on her father’s cheek.
“Bye, girls,” he said, going to the door. “I’m going to see if I can wake anyone connected with Interpol. Be careful. All right?”
“Promise,” said Nancy, already planning her next move.
• • •
The minute the door closed behind him, the three girls took up their positions. Bess and George had been in some pretty tight situations with Nancy, so remaining still and quiet wasn’t so bad, except that it gave them time to consider what a terrifying thing they were doing.
An hour went by, and still nothing had happened. The three friends began to grow uncomfortableand nervous in the darkness of the room. Only the shadows thrown by the city lights gave them any sense of where things were in the room.
Nancy couldn’t help worrying. This was her last chance to catch her quarry. If the killer didn’t rise to the bait, all her work would have been for nothing. Sarah Amberly’s killer would get away, and Nancy would have to go back to River Heights empty-handed.
But time was running out. Nancy knew she couldn’t ask George and Bess to hang around much longer. They were frightened, and they had good reason. If the murderer did show up, the odds were he’d be armed—and they knew it.
Bess kept sniffling and blowing her nose. The dust from the netting was getting to her. George was bearing up somewhat better, but Nancy knew that her friends’ patience was wearing thin. This wasn’t their idea of a good time in New York City.
To pass the time, Bess started to tell a ghost story. It was one she’d heard around the fire at camp, a long time ago. Then George told one, and then Nancy. By the time midnight rolled around, their nerves were jumping.
“What was that?” screamed Bess, when a window rattled in its casing. The others nearly leaped out of their skins. They were walking a razor’s edge, and the tension was high.
“Nancy, come on.” Bess sighed. “Can’t we justforget the whole thing? I mean, this is the Big Apple! There’s one huge party going on down there, and we’re missing all the fun!”
“Bess has a point, Nan,” agreed George. “This doesn’t exactly seem to be panning out. Can’t we—”
Suddenly the girls fell deadly silent. A floorboard had creaked outside—someone was coming!
“I sure hope it isn’t my dad again,” whispered Nancy.
“What do you mean?” said George, her jaw tight with terror. “If it’s not your dad, then—”
Their eyes fell to the doorknob as it started to turn. It clicked, and the door creaked slowly open.
Just then, just when they had the killer in their grasp, Bess leaned back and sneezed the biggest, noisiest
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