126 The Riddle in the Rare Book by Carolyn Keene

Author:Carolyn Keene [Keene, Carolyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

9

A Clue at Last

“Someone cut a hole in my exhaust pipe?” Nancy asked the mechanic.

“Are you sure?” George asked.

“See for yourself,” Jane Morris replied. She shone her light over a perfectly round hole about the size of a quarter. “You can’t get a hole like that unless you deliberately cut one,” she told Nancy.

“I wonder when the hole was cut,” Nancy said.

“How long would it take for the carbon monoxide to take effect and make a person pass out?” George asked the mechanic.

“I’d guess twenty minutes to half an hour,” Jane replied. “Until you get drowsy, you don’t notice anything. Carbon monoxide has no scent, color, or taste. It’s a silent, invisible killer.”

“I felt fine when I drove to the auction house,” Nancy remembered. “And I wasn’t sleepy when I went to Risa’s or out to Leonard Sather’s. It was only on the way home from the farm that I started to feel it.”

“How long were you at the farm?” George asked.

“Over an hour,” Nancy answered.

“That would be plenty of time for someone who knew what they were doing to cut this hole,” Jane said.

Then Nancy remembered the tire marks beside her car. “And I have good idea of who that someone is,” she said grimly.

After thanking Jane Morris, Nancy told her she’d pick up the car later in the week.

“So, are you going to tell me or not?” George prodded Nancy as they drove back to the Drews’ house. “Who did that to your car?”

“Well, there weren’t that many cars on the road when I drove to the workshop,” Nancy said.

“And,” George said, waiting for Nancy to go on.

“And he was late coming home that night,” Nancy continued, thinking out loud.

“Who?” George asked impatiently.

“And he certainly has the motive. Money is always a big motivator for any crime.”

“Nancy!” George exclaimed, making her friend jump in the seat beside her.

“What?”

“Are you going to tell me who your suspect is or not?” George asked in an exasperated tone.

“Oh, sure,” Nancy replied calmly. “Leonard Sather, of course.”

“Finally,” George said. “The suspense was killing me.”

• • •

That evening at dinner, Nancy’s dad looked at her with concern. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” he asked. “I hope the mechanic fixed that leak.”

“The car will be fine and I’m fine—really, Dad,” Nancy said, smiling. But she didn’t tell her father about the mechanic’s discovery. If he knew someone had tried to hurt her, he might order her off the case, and she felt she was getting too close to give up now.

“So tell me about this mystery of yours,” Mr. Drew said as he started his dinner.

“I’d love to. In fact, I need your help.” Nancy sketched in the details of the case thus far, including her suspicions about Leonard Sather, then told her dad about the law books Richard Munro had been carrying. “It seems like such an odd thing for a poet to be lugging around,” she said. “I wrote down the titles and some of the case numbers that Richard had marked.

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