Final Notes by Carolyn Keene

Author:Carolyn Keene
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

Chapter

Eight

NANCY RAISED HER EYEBROWS and looked at George as they took in this new information. Three million dollars in insurance money would be considered a motive for murder in any court.

“Get out of here, you creep!” Melanie cried out. “You’re accusing me of these crazy things because you’re jealous. You know there will always be another man between us. I must have been insane to think you had anything to offer me. No wonder Curtis hated you.”

Those angry words were followed by the sound of a crash. “Whoa,” Rahmer said bitterly. “The truth really hurts.”

Nancy and George wondered what Melanie had thrown at Rahmer.

“What would you know about the truth?” Melanie shrieked. “You get out of here.” Another crash came, then she yelled, “Get out this instant!”

Moving like lightning, Nancy pulled George away from the door, and the two raced back to the library doorway. There they waited until they heard Rahmer leave Melanie’s room and tramp down the marble stairway.

“Whew,” George said, blowing out a big breath. “Three million dollars!”

Nancy nodded. “And Melanie was the only person who was with Curtis the night he died, according to all the newspapers.”

An excited gleam came into George’s eyes, and she whispered, “Then maybe she’s the one who put the barbiturates in his drink.”

“But it was J.J. who bribed the coroner, George,” Nancy pointed out. “I suppose he could have done it to protect Melanie, though.”

“Good thinking, Nan. Maybe he was in love with her, even back then.”

That certainly seemed possible, Nancy thought. “George, remember, Curtis got a phone call that night. That’s supposedly why he left the house.”

“Supposedly?” George echoed, arching an eyebrow.

“Wasn’t it Melanie who said someone phoned for Curtis before he left the house? Maybe she was lying,” Nancy suggested.

“I don’t know,” George said thoughtfully. “But I know who might. Come on. Let’s go find Vickers.”

The girls walked quietly down the corridor to the stairway near the mansion entrance. A uniformed maid was cleaning the squares of glass in the upper part of the door.

“Excuse me,” Nancy asked her. “Do you know where we can find Vickers?”

“I think he’s in the kitchen,” the maid answered. She pointed down the corridor. “It’s to the left, at the end of the hall.”

Following the maid’s directions, the girls found themselves in a huge kitchen filled with industrial appliances. Vickers sat inspecting silver at a table in a glassed-in alcove facing a garden.

“Vickers,” Nancy called from the doorway. “May we have a word with you?”

“Of course,” he replied, looking up from the silverware. “How can I help you?”

Nancy and George stepped over to the alcove, and Nancy asked, “Were you on duty the night Curtis Taylor died?”

The butler’s face took on a sad expression. “I’m afraid not,” he replied, shaking his head. “Mr. Taylor died on a Wednesday evening, which was the staff’s customary day off at that time.”

“Then you wouldn’t know if he really received a phone call that night,” George said with a hint of defeat in her voice.

“No, I wouldn’t. Sorry.

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