Troubled Waters (Nancy Drew (All New) Girl Detective Book 23) by Carolyn Keene Page A

better not risk it. If the house collapses, I definitely don’t want to be inside,” I said, making my way back across the mud to George. “But . . . we’re so close! How are we going to find out what J.C. was up to?”
    “Remember how mildewed Bernard Tilden’s journal was?” George said thoughtfully. “I’ll bet you anything that it was right here in this house.”
    Her theory made sense. And my gut told me that J.C. was the one who found the journal and returned here last night looking for more. So why was Craig standing next to the journal when I found it?” I wondered out loud. “We were pretty sure he dropped it. Unless . . .”
    As I thought back, the picture of Craig staring down the street at the glowing taillights of a car flashed in my mind. “Right before I found the journal, Craig was watching someone drive away,” I told George. “What if that person dropped the journal, not Craig?”
    “J.C. did tell Deirdre he had to leave early,” George said. “And I don’t remember seeing him when we were dancing after you found the journal.”
    “Still, all we have is guesswork,” I said, scraping my boot across the mud-coated pavement. “There’s got to be a way to prove J.C. is the one looking for the money. I mean, if he took those framed photos, he must have them somewhere. . . .”
    “His hotel?” George suggested. “Didn’t Travis say the guys on the team are staying at the River Heights Motor Lodge?”
    “Yes, he did.” I started back down the muddy road toward my car. “J.C.’s probably at the foundry,” I said, “so let’s start with the hotel.”
    George and I were both relieved to leave the flooded part of Cedar Plains behind us—and to make it past the barrier without any police spotting us. Before long we were pulling up in front of the River Heights Motor Lodge. The U-shaped building was two stories high, with doorways on both levels and stairs going up to a second-floor balcony. At the center of the U was a swimming pool surrounded by lounge chairs. It wasn’t warm enough to swim yet, and the pool was empty except for a layer of grime and leaves.
    The place was quiet—and the more deserted the better, as far as I was concerned. We didn’t exactly want an audience while we snuck into J.C.’s room.
    “There’s the reception desk,” George said, noddingat a glassed-in office at the end of the U-shaped building. “Let’s find out what room J.C. is in.”
    As we got out of the car, I scanned the first- and second-floor doorways. Three laundry carts stood on the walkways outside the rooms, along with buckets, mops, and bottles of cleansers. As I watched, a woman wearing a white smock over her clothes came out of one of the second-floor rooms. In her arms was a mound of towels and sheets, which she dumped into her cart.
    “I’m not sure reception will be so accommodating—but maybe there’s a better way,” I said. “Come on.”
    We jogged up the stairs and caught up to the woman as she was opening the door to the next room. “Excuse me, miss,” I said breathlessly.
    “Yes?” The woman turned toward us, and I saw that she had chin-length black hair and small wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. “Can I help you?”
    “We hope so,” George said. “We’re trying to find J.C. Valdez. He’s one of the basketball players who’s staying here.”
    “You mean the Bullets? Such lovely boys!” the woman said, her voice filled with warmth. “I call them my knights in shining armor. Every day I thank those boys for helping to build the apartments overat the Davis Foundry. See, my three boys and I lost our place down in Cedar Plains during the floods and—”
    “You’re going to get one of the foundry apartments when they’re done?” George guessed.
    The woman nodded. “Let me tell you, it’ll be a relief when we don’t have to sleep on the floor at my sister-in-law’s place anymore,” she said. “She’s been a darling to us, but after a while