Chapter 7 Nancy's Mysterious Letter by Carolyn Keene
The Wrecked Car
“Oh, Ned, do you mean it?” Nancy exclaimed.
“Will you find out if the coach’s first name is Nancy?”
He promised to do this and then added, “You’ll be able to meet her Friday night. If she is Nancy Smith Drew, I won’t tell her about the inheritance. I’ll leave that for you.”
Ned said he would call Nancy back as soon as he found out. “I won’t leave the house until you do!” she told him.
It was an hour before Ned called back. “I didn’t learn much,” he reported. “Miss Drew was suddenly called away and she won’t return until just before the show.”
Nancy was disappointed but knew she must be patient. After all this was Wednesday. Friday evening was not too far away.
Ned changed the subject. With laughter in his voice, he said, “Who do you think is temporary coach? Burt Eddleton!”
Nancy giggled. George Fayne’s date hardly seemed like the type to be coaching a Shakespearean play. He was a blond, husky football player who was full of fun.
“I can’t wait,” Nancy said. “Does Burt have a secret aspiration for becoming an actor after college?”
Ned laughed. “I doubt it.”
The couple talked a few minutes longer, then they said good-by. Nancy’s thoughts turned back to her visit at the Skeets’s home and the information she had received.
Suddenly she told herself, “Maybe if N. Smith Drew, the coach, is Nancy Smith Drew from England, she went to see the Wilsons where she used to work as governess. If I could only find them!”
Nancy went upstairs. Hannah Gruen was still hemming the dance dress. Often when the girl sleuth was puzzled, she talked over the situation with the understanding housekeeper. Now she told her of the latest report from Ned Nickerson.
“I wish I knew where to find the Wilsons,” Nancy said. “Have you any hunches?”
“If they summer in Cape Cod, possibly they live in the Boston area,” was Mrs. Gruen’s first guess.
“Yes,” Nancy said slowly, “But lots of people from other places go there too. What would be your second choice?”
“How about Springfield, Massachusetts?”
After a ten-minute conversation between them, Nancy came up with an idea which Mrs. Gruen thought was very plausible. Nancy Smith Drew had been in New York studying for the stage. If the N. Smith Drew at Emerson was the same person, she had no doubt succeeded in finding a place in the theatrical world—at least as a coach. There was a good possibility that the Wilsons, for whom she went to work as a governess, lived in New York City.
“I put a New York City phone book in your father’s study,” Mrs. Gruen told Nancy. “But I’ll bet there are hundreds of people named Wilson in it.”
Nancy hurried off. One look at all the Wilsons in New York City would have discouraged a less determined person. She took a pencil from her father’s desk and began to check likely addresses.
She told herself that if the Wilsons could afford a governess, they were probably well-to-do. This meant they would live in one of the nice areas of the city. Consequently Nancy eliminated all the business and professional addresses. Her list of likely candidates turned out to be long, but she decided to start telephoning each one.
“Our phone bill will be tremendous,” she told herself as call after call was made with no success.
Half an hour later Nancy heaved a sigh. Should she go on? Many things might have happened to the Wilsons she was trying to locate. They could have died or moved away.
“But I mustn’t give up,” Nancy told herself, and began to dial another number.
When a woman answered, Nancy said, “Is this Mrs. Wilson?”
“Yes.”
“I’m making a long-distance call to you to ask a question. Did you ever employ a governess named Nancy Smith Drew?”
Nancy held her breath as she waited for the answer. “Who is calling?” the woman asked.
“Believe it or not, my name is also Nancy Drew. By chance I heard of Nancy Smith Drew and I’m trying to locate her. I received a letter by mistake which belongs to her.”
There was a pause, then Mrs. Wilson said, “This is a great coincidence. Yes, a Miss Nancy Smith Drew worked for us a few years ago. She’s a very lovely person and an excellent actress. Unfortunately I do not know where she is right now. Once in a while she sends us a postcard or a Christmas message. As a matter of fact, it has been almost a year since her last note, in which she said she was moving but did not give her future address.”
Nancy was disappointed that the actress did not visit the Wilsons, but said, “I’m so thrilled to have located someone at last who knows Miss Drew. I must tell you what was in her letter. She has a large inheritance waiting for her in England.”
“How exciting!” Mrs. Wilson exclaimed. “I’m so glad for her.”
She and Nancy chatted for a few more minutes, then the woman said, “I’m sure I’ll hear from Miss Drew at Christmastime. I’ll tell her to get in touch with you at once. Where can she reach you?”
Nancy gave her address and telephone number and thanked Mrs. Wilson for her help. As soon as the conversation ended, Nancy went back to Hannah Gruen and told her the good news.
“Now I have two good leads. If the coach at Emerson is not Nancy Smith Drew, then by Christmastime we should hear from the right one.”
Mrs. Gruen smiled. “I can see why you’re a good detective,” she remarked. “If you don’t find hidden gold under one stone, you turn up another.”
The housekeeper suggested that they take time out for lunch. After eating, the two returned to Nancy’s bedroom to see if the evening dress was all right. Nancy kicked off her sports shoes, removed her skirt and sweater, then stepped into the dance dress. Hannah zipped it up.
Just then the phone rang and Nancy went into her father’s study to answer it. Chief McGinnis was calling.
“I thought you’d be interested to hear, Nancy, that we found the beat-up car with the license number TJ12796.”
“You did?” Nancy exclaimed. “Where? And did you find Edgar Nixon too?”
“No, unfortunately.” The officer explained that the car had been abandoned and was a complete wreck.
“We came across it on that road where you saw the man drive across the bridge,” McGinnis added. “A little way beyond there was a sharp curve and I guess he was going too fast and didn’t make it. But he evidently wasn’t hurt much because he wasn’t around and we’ve had no report from the hospital or any doctors about a person who needed attention.”
“The car really did belong to Edgar Nixon?” Nancy asked.
“We don’t know,” McGinnis replied. “It was registered under another name with a phony address. Maybe the car was Nixon’s, maybe a friend’s.”
“Or Edgar could be using aliases,” Nancy thought.
The chief said if he had any further report he would telephone Nancy. “We’re still looking for a man who wears a camel’s-hair coat and hat, but we suspect that by this time he may have changed to something different.”
“Perhaps,” said Nancy. “But if he had a beat-up car and is demanding money from his brother Ira, I’d say he isn’t very well off. Men’s winter overcoats are expensive and I wonder if he could afford two of them.”
Chief McGinnis laughed. “I admire the way your mind works, Nancy. What you just said is very true.” He chuckled. “I guess we’ll keep on looking for a man in a camel’s-hair overcoat and hat.”
As Nancy started back to her room so that Hannah Gruen could look at the dress, the front doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Nancy called.
As she walked toward the stairway, Nancy realized that in her stocking feet the dress was pretty long. Just as she reached the top step, Nancy stepped on the front of the gown.
She heard a loud rip and gasped. At the same moment, she lost her balance and pitched forward!