Very Deadly Yours by Carolyn Keene

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

Chapter

Eleven

BESS, I’M OKAY,” Nancy protested for the fifth time. “I had a good night’s sleep. I had breakfast and lunch in bed. The swelling’s down. I feel great!”

“I still think you’re crazy,” said Bess. “Why don’t you just spend the rest of the day in bed?”

It was Wednesday afternoon, the day after Bess and George had found Nancy in the street, and they were checking to see how she was doing. Although her face was still bruised, and the back of her head felt tender, Nancy had decided it was time to get out of bed. When her friends got to her house, she had just finished taking a shower.

When Bess and George hadn’t found a coffee shop in the near vicinity the night before, they had come back to see how Nancy was doing. When they’d reached her corner, she was just starting to struggle to her feet.

Of course there’d been no sign of her assailant. There was no way of knowing whether it had been the girl in white or someone else. Nancy had insisted that she was well enough to go home. “I don’t have a concussion,” she’d said, and after a horrified Hannah had checked Nancy’s eyes to verify she didn’t have a concussion, Nancy collapsed into bed. Now all she wanted to do was get back on the job.

“If I spend any more time ‘recovering,’ I’ll lose my mind,” she told her friends. “I just want to head back to the paper for a couple of hours. I want to go through the files again, and the morgue closes at six.”

“We’d better let her do it,” George told Bess. “She has that look in her eyes. Just call us when you get back, Nan.”

“You know what you could do for me, though,” Nancy said, “is to stop in and see how Ned’s doing. I’d do it myself, but I don’t want him to see me all bruised like this. The doctor doesn’t want me reminding him of the case.”

“Where do you want us to say you are?” asked George.

“Tell him—tell him—oh, just tell him I’ve been delayed. Tell him I promise I’ll call him tonight. And give him my love.”

“Sure,” said George with a grin. “We’ll take him some kind of potted plant, too. A nice spidery potted plant is just the thing for an invalid.”

Nancy laughed. “I can see you’ll do a better job of cheering him up today than I possibly could.”

• • •

A light rain was falling as Nancy emerged from the lobby of the Record building a couple of hours later. Her second search through the paper’s files had made her more suspicious than ever that “the Glove,” John Engas, had robbed First Lincoln in Chicago.

“How could you leave the Glove to die?” the man in the restaurant had asked Bess. Obviously he thought the girl he was looking for was some kind of suspect in Engas’s death. And a robber, too? Nancy wondered. If she’d somehow killed Engas and made off with the haul from the bank .

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