A/N: As always—thanks, everybody! Every word of every review is precious to me! Thanks to the silent readers as well. JB
Nancy slept in until 9:30 the following morning, which was a Saturday. She looked in the mirror and wrinkled her nose. Another breakout of acne, along the side of her right cheek.
First things first. She checked her email.
To: [Nancy Drew]
From: [Callie Shaw]
9/22/18 8:32 a.m.
Re: Last Night
Hi Nancy—I just wanted to let you know that my parents were pretty cool about last night. I'm grounded for today with some extra chores, plus we'll have whatever community service we're sentenced to, of course. I wonder if they'll make us wear those black and white prison uniforms? I was going to hang out with Iola today so I had to email her to explain why I was grounded…but don't worry, I told her the version where I made you come out with me to scare Frank. She got a kick out of it.
Dear God, your Bestselling Novel…I just read the part where Frank breaks into Miss Magpie's underground chemistry lab wearing only a cluster of grapes, ties her up, and interrogates her with a feather dipped in truth serum. Does it make me gross that I kind of felt something while I was reading that scene? For a minute there, I was afraid that Frank would start feeding a grape to Miss Magpie as a reward for each truthful answer, and then he'd have been standing there starkers. I hate to say it, Nancy, but I think Frank might have figured out from this novel that you feel some sexual attraction toward him. Callie
Nancy returned a short email of apologies, thanks, and reassurance that Callie was not gross.
To: [Nancy Drew]
From: [Iola Morton]
9/22/18 8:37 a.m.
Re: Life of Crime!
Nancy—I can't believe you let Callie talk you into illegal activities last night! I'm sorry I missed all the fun, but I'm glad I didn't get caught with you guys, either. I can't believe Callie went to all that trouble just to tease Frank! Do you think she likes him? Love, Iola
Nancy smiled to herself and decided not to reply to that email just yet. She opened her bedroom door to get some breakfast.
"—family has been a rock in this community for generations, and never caused any problems," she heard Griselda saying from downstairs. "They're the loudest family at every gathering, constantly bantering back and forth, but they're the most loving to each other, too."
"Nancy," her father yelled up the stairs. "Lock yourself in your bedroom until I tell you it's safe to come out. There's a gang member outside who's been stalking the house for almost an hour."
"Really?" Nancy said, excited. Her phone had been on silent mode, so she wouldn't have heard any calls. Nancy raced down the stairs and peered through the blinds as Tony rode by on his bike.
"He has a blue shirt on, so at least we know that he belongs to the Crypts, not the Bloods," Carson said icily from the breakfast table.
Nancy turned to him. "Tony is not a gang member. He makes straight As and plays in the marching band."
Carson frowned. "Really?"
"No, but those goals might be on his Five-Year Career Plan," Nancy said. "We can't assume that they're not, Dad. Discrimination is illegal."
Carson glowered at her. "Thank you for reminding me of my legal responsibilities, Nancy. You're right. Let's not discriminate before we know the facts." He took four long strides to the front door and opened it. "Hey! Come here."
Carson didn't speak again until Tony had dismounted from his bike and stood on the front porch. "What's your Five-Year Career Plan, Son?"
"Dad!" Nancy squeaked as Griselda said "Carson" in the tone of an irate wife.
"I want to get accepted into Drexel University and study civil engineering," Tony answered. "Working summers on my dad's construction crew got me interested in design. I can get all the math problems correct after Frank takes his time explaining the theories to me. And Frank thinks I'll understand enough of the theories by the end of high school that I won't need tutoring in college."
Nancy realized that Tony had asked about her hopes and dreams last Wednesday, and she had never asked him about his.
"Oh," Carson said. "Well. Good." He shut the door in Tony's face.
"Well, too bad you're grounded today anyway, Nancy," Carson said, returning to his coffee.
Nancy's heart plunged. "What? Give me extra chores, ground me next week instead, please! This is, like, the only day when we can have the entire day to ourselves."
"Before you snuck out of the house last night," Carson said.
Nancy felt misunderstood, then disappointed, then frantic, and then very, very calm. "I did not sneak out of the house last night just for no good reason," she said to her father in an even tone. "There have been social problems going on all week that had to be taken care of immediately. Social problems that would not have happened if you hadn't dragged me across the country. You do not allow me to have text or internet on my phone, so my friends are communicating with each other without me. You censor my books and my movies so I barely even know what real life is like. You don't allow me to help with your legal cases so I can't even prepare for my career. I've spent my entire life under your power and control, so grounding isn't even necessary. And now you are allowed to have a wife yet you don't even want me to have a boyfriend!"
Carson stared at her in shock. There was a long moment of silence.
Griselda spoke up. "Carson, this has been a very hard week for Nancy. I think she needs today to heal her relationships," she said, laying her hand on top of his.
Carson stared into his coffee briefly. Then he went to the front door and opened it again. "You will have her back home before the sun goes down, and Nancy will call me every hour to check in. You will not take her into your house. You will not go into a bedroom in anyone's house."
"I promise," Tony said.
Nancy gave her dad a brief, tight hug, then ran upstairs and showered without washing her hair. She wondered if she should worry about what she was wearing, but Tony was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, as it was a very warm day for September, so she did, too. Somehow she ate a banana while she dressed, then grabbed her phone and house key and ran down the stairs.
"Hold on," Griselda called, and approached Nancy with a backpack. Nancy peeked inside: peanut butter and jelly, chips, and water. Boring, but did not require refrigeration, so she and Tony could eat whenever they got hungry. Nancy gave Griselda a quick, one-armed side-hug before joining Tony on the sidewalk.
"That was nice of her," Tony said, balancing the backpack on his bike's handlebars. "We've always liked Griselda, but we make fun of her for saying 'hoagies,' not 'subs.' You may want to speak to her about that. And I like your dad."
Nancy looked at him in surprise. She began to walk next to him while he cruised slowly on his bike, feet dragging on the ground. She remembered the pimples on her right cheek and switched to walk on Tony's right so he might not see them as much. "You were impressed by his overprotective drama?"
"Yes. It would have really pissed me off if he didn't care about you."
Nancy had been hoping to have a quick talk and then fall behind the nearest bush to do some of the things that the Sunday School teachers had told her not to, but there was something about Tony's mood that held her back. "Are you okay?" she asked him.
"Yeah," Tony answered. "I'll be fine soon. The fight at my house was much worse than usual today. My mom wants Michael to go to college so bad, but he just hated school, you know, and feels like my mom should be happy that he graduated high school. He doesn't yell back at her—he's not a yeller—but he took some low blows at her this morning, asking questions about why she didn't go to college and why can't she go now, and eventually she just burst into tears."
"Your mom is such a hard worker, and obviously has the smarts to run a good business," Nancy said thoughtfully. "I bet she could—"
"Please, no, Nancy," Tony said wearily. "We can't get involved in this. My mom doesn't read too well and I've noticed that with adults, they reach an age where they're afraid to try new things…but it's like she wants to live her dreams through me and Michael, which is a lot of pressure. My dad just kind of comes home at the end of the day and falls asleep exhausted, like all he does is work and sleep, and she doesn't want that for me or Michael. People think owning your own business is terrific, but there are weeks when you work ninety hours and get paid for thirty."
Nancy put a hand on his arm.
"And it gets complicated because my family is huge, so it's not like Mr. Pizza automatically passes to Michael or me. What about my dad's cousin Freddie, who's slaved in that restaurant for the past twenty years? He had to take a couple of years off because he got sick, but he should still be in the running. He has a wife and a new baby to support. And my uncle Matthew has put in more years in the construction company than my dad." Tony shook his head. "Well, I'm not going to fight anyone for anything. Maybe I'll go my own way. I'm fine, we don't need to talk about it anymore. But I wish this fighting between my mom and Michael would stop."
Nancy had thought of a couple of supportive things to say but could sense that Tony was beginning to feel better and that he genuinely did want to change the subject. "I'm sorry I got you in trouble with Michael yesterday."
"Well worth it." Tony grinned at her.
"Before I forget," Nancy asked, "I meant to ask you. What did Michael mean by old-fashioned consequences yesterday?"
"We don't need to talk about that either," Tony said. "It's been years, but it's something I'm hoping not to repeat."
"But you're allowed to curse like you did yesterday?"
"I was cursing at the general universe, not at him. There is a big difference between saying eff it and saying eff you."
The more Nancy learned about the rules Tony lived under, the more intrigued she became. "So Michael is kind of like a dad to you."
Tony rolled his eyes. "It's more like everyone in my family is allowed to order around anyone who's younger than they are, so I take orders from everyone who's fifteen or older."
"I like that," Nancy said.
"Hey," Tony protested.
"For the same reason that you like my dad." Nancy smiled at him. "I've only ever had my dad and Hannah. But it's like you have this whole huge community of people who care about you and make sure you stay in line."
"Well. Since you say it like that." Tony gave her an affectionate look. "Where are you taking me?"
Nancy realized that she had, indeed, been subconsciously guiding him slowly through town, and that she knew where she wanted to end up. "You'll see when we get there," she said.
"Suspense," Tony commented. He set the alarm on his phone to go off every hour so Nancy would remember to check in.
"But as we get there, I need to explain something that happened last night." Nancy took a deep breath. She had debated with herself while falling asleep last night about what and how much she told Tony, but, in the end, had decided to tell him the full truth. She didn't believe in secrets between boyfriends and girlfriends, and she also couldn't stand books where the heroine could have prevented a huge blowup situation if she had only communicated clearly to begin with. Tony stopped riding his bike so he could look at her throughout the entire explanation.
"But I wrote the novel back when I was feeling weird about Frank," she finished, anxious not to almost ruin—again—what was only beginning between her and Tony. "I'm thinking that for your birthday in February, I'll write a story about Antonio Prito, Warrior Chief of the Rubicon. You can—you can read the novel if you want to," she finished lamely, desperately hoping that he wouldn't.
Tony gave her a small smile. "No thanks," he said. "I'll wait until the novel gets published on the bestselling list, and then read it along with everyone else. I don't want to read a book that was written about another guy. But seriously, Nancy…it stops here with you and Frank? I'm trying to be cool about all this, but you need to meet me halfway. Dump me if you need to, but I'm not sharing you with him. And you don't even know how he feels."
"And I don't need to know how he feels. He's never given me any reason ever to think that he liked me. I swear on everything, there is nothing else that you need to know about me and Frank," Nancy said truthfully. "Please believe me. I don't even keep a diary. I email my friends back home when I need to talk about something."
"I believe you," Tony said. "And you said that Phil permanently deleted the file? I'm going to freak out if I have to hear jokes about it, or if it gets passed around, or if pages of it get taped to my locker—"
"Frank promised me that Phil permanently deleted it," Nancy confirmed.
"All right." Tony nodded and they resumed their slow pace through town. "And, sorry to burst any kind of bubble—well, I'm really not sorry—but sometimes when Frank is out of the house, Joe and I…inspect his bedroom for him. Just to make sure that he's staying organized, that he's on track with his Ten-Year Career Plan, extracurriculars, things like that. And, last year, we found a full sonnet about Callie's fiery personality. We looked up 'poetry' on Wikipedia and saw that Frank's sonnet followed all of Shakespeare's rules."
"Frank likes Callie?" Nancy waited to feel hurt, but it didn't come. It was like what she felt for Frank was irrelevant to their relationships with other people; it was only between her and him, yet did not disrespect other people either. She didn't feel jealous that Frank liked Callie.
"Yup," Tony answered, and Nancy felt his eyes on her, assessing her reaction. "Well, last year, at least," Tony continued, "and anything could change in a year. Callie can keep your novel because it makes Frank look good and maybe it will help out Frank for her to read it. She wouldn't pass it around school, she's not ignorant like that. So you're telling me that, if I hear anything, I have to pretend to everyone that I think you and Callie snuck out last night so that she could scare Frank. Joe is going to get a lot of mileage out of that one; Callie is going to get teased to no end that she likes Frank. All these high school secrets…we have to hide this secret from that person, that secret from this person, but I bet everyone secretly knows everything anyway."
They arrived at Bayport Cemetery. Nancy considered whether she should wait and consult with Frank about whether or not to tell Tony about their mystery, but decided that Frank should not have the authority to make all the decisions. It wouldn't make any sense to let Biff Hooper know all the details and then not tell her own boyfriend. She told Tony all about the notes from Coach Hafetz to Miss Swain, the 4:00 Friday meetings to slip the package, Coach Hafetz wanting a permanent solution, and the "not again" muttering by Coach Hafetz in the cemetery immediately before Chief Collig busted them for breaking curfew.
Tony looked at her with admiration. "You busy fire-haired little monkey," he said when she finished. "You've had a mystery going all this time. Remind me never to take one day off school. I lose out on too much information."
"We were standing right here, behind this tree," Nancy said. "His car headlights gave us some light. I counted how many rows back Coach was standing at, and how many headstones over."
"Awesome thinking, Nancy. I don't think I would have thought to do that." Tony dismounted from his bike and took Nancy's hand.
Nancy realized with some humor that she and Tony had made out before they had ever held hands. His hand felt good in hers, like they were partners. Nancy led him to the headstone that Coach had been standing in front of the night before.
The headstone was plain and looked exactly like those around it. It said simply, "Sophie Conners. 1970-1992. Dearly missed."
"So she was 22 when she died," Nancy said. "How old do you think Coach is?"
Tony shrugged. "Forty-five? Fifty? Which would make him born…in the early seventies?"
"So this is a woman he loved who died before her time?" Nancy asked. "Have you ever heard anything about her?"
"No, but I know which witness we should interview," Tony said. "My nonna is so old—in her sixties—and she has been the first to know all of the Bayport gossip since she was a little girl. My dad's mom. Let me handle this; if she starts giving us food, we'll be there all afternoon, and I have other plans for this afternoon."
Nancy felt like a terrible detective. She was looking forward to Tony's other plans for the afternoon more than the research that they needed to do.
Tony retrieved his bike and they walked a couple of miles to his nonna's house. They had to spend precious time buttering her up before asking their questions. Their time was only well spent in introducing Nancy, however, as Tony's nonna immediately denied all knowledge of a Sophie Conners or any woman that the coach had known who had died in the early nineties. She showed the two teens to the door shortly thereafter.
"That was weird and I think she knows something," Tony said after they left. "Coach has lived in Bayport all his life, except college maybe, and my nonna would definitely know about a tragic lost love. But she also didn't speculate about who the woman could possibly have been, or start talking about other tragic love affairs she's heard about, and that is not normal for her. But we can't go around interviewing everybody about Sophie Conners or it's going to get back to Coach Hafetz really quick."
"We can do a Google search," Nancy said thoughtfully as she walked. "Griselda only moved here ten years ago, so I don't think she'd know anything anyway. Since Sophie died in the olden days, way back in 1992, maybe the library can help."
"How about another day?" Tony asked. "We have other important things to do, Nancy. I'm taking you somewhere and it's right around this curve in the road."
"Yes, we need to do those important things next," Nancy said eagerly. "Oh, but wait. I'm afraid I might not measure up. Callie, Iola, and Vanessa told me how many hundreds of girls you've been with before me."
Tony looked appropriately chagrined. "It's hard to have a best friend as clueless about girls as Joe is," he muttered. "Once in a while I have to exaggerate things to try to help him. Make things up, even. Sometimes I really worry that he will die a virgin. I have to describe some things to him that girls might like so he's a little bit prepared if a woman is ever willing to be with him."
"I understand," Nancy said, with a small smirk. "Oh—this is beautiful! Where are we?"
"The edge of town," Tony said. "This is the Tower Mansion, with a caregiver that only stops by once in a while." He was looking at Nancy in a way that no one had ever looked at her before.
They arrived on the grass behind the mansion and Nancy saw why he'd brought her here: it was a beautiful scene in nature, a field of grass stretching inland, while they could hear the waves of the bay breaking against a cliff in the distance. The Tower blocked them from the view of the road, yet it was not so secluded that they would feel comfortable doing anything here.
"I'm hungry," Nancy announced. Tony dismounted from his bike and lay prostrate on the ground like there was no reason for him to go on living.
Nancy opened their backpack and threw a Ziploc bagged sandwich at him. "I want more energy so we can make out for hours after we eat."
"Those are the magic words." Tony sat up and ate their lunch with her. Nancy sat across from him on the ground and they took off their shoes.
Toward the end of their lunch, Nancy swallowed her bite. She had remembered Iola's warning to her about the need to talk things out in advance. "I want to talk anyway. About what we're going to do and not going to do. There is only one part of me that I don't want you to touch."
"I get it," Tony said. "And I won't."
"And I want us to keep our clothes completely on. Except for your shirt."
Tony peeled his shirt off immediately. He had an undefined boy's chest, not a man's; his shoulders were broader than other boys' his age, however, most likely from summers of manual labor.
Nancy looked at him pointedly. "You're distracting me. What rules do you have?"
"We shouldn't do anything in your father's house," Tony answered, taking a swig of water. "It's disrespectful."
"It's actually my stepmother's house," Nancy said.
"But still. Your father lives there. Nothing on the front lawn, either, or anywhere on the property."
Nancy did not see how geography affected the level of respect of their actions, but decided not to question the logic.
"You can touch whatever you want to on me. But your dad is right, I guess," Tony said grudgingly, "we should kind of stay out in the open. It wouldn't be fun to stop if we really got going. But I would. Still, though, don't torture me, please."
Nancy thought that she would like to find out what he considered to be torturous to him, and, only after then, not do those things anymore. "Okay. And other people might want us to stay out in the open, too, so they can take notes and learn a few things from us."
Tony looked at her long and searchingly. "So are we good? I want you to…enjoy yourself. And I really don't want you to wish later that we hadn't done this."
"I want to do this. And don't worry, I will not forget about enjoying myself," Nancy answered.
Tony grabbed their trash in two huge fistfuls and shoved it into the backpack, then reached for Nancy and pulled her onto the grass with him.
Nancy wondered later how it could have been such an in-body yet out-of-body experience at the same time. She was more comfortable with his body today than she had been yesterday. Sometimes their teeth scraped, but they became better with practice. Tony was gentle and considerate in his inexperienced fumbling. She especially enjoyed his more labored breathing and the sounds that came from his throat, sometimes bordering on a whimper. And Nancy could finally bury her hands in Tony's thick, curly hair, like she'd wanted to do since the night they'd met.
The alarm on Tony's phone went off for another of Nancy's hourly check-ins, and he rolled to the side. Nancy waited to catch her breath and then called her dad. She hung up and turned back to Tony. He was on his back, holding out one arm to her. She snuggled into his side for a break.
"There's a part in Game of Thrones when a teenager has his first experience and says 'This is all I want to do, every moment, for the rest of my life,'" Tony commented.
Nancy grinned and kissed his cheek.
"This means something to me, Nance," Tony said. "Whatever happens, I don't want you to ever think that this doesn't mean something to me."
"Me too," Nancy told him.
"Can you, umm…tell me what it feels like for you?" Tony asked. "And I apologize for my comments about your rear view yesterday. My hands fit perfectly."
Nancy accepted his apology and described it to him, to the best of her ability. She suddenly worried about what he would tell the guys later, and they agreed that neither of them would analyze the other's performance with their friends. Tony was pleased to hear that she had told the girls that she had enjoyed learning with him. Joe was on the Scouts retreat, so Tony hadn't had an opportunity to say anything to him yet.
And they soon learned that making out is an activity to be done in smaller increments of time, with breaks. They played verbal games to get to know each other more. They began to speculate about what their lives would be like next year, when they began to help Frank and Joe with detective work.
""We need to make a list of skills that all good detectives have," Nancy said. "We have to be able to analyze a crime scene, use reverse psychology and deductive reasoning, and learn all about motives and how evil people think. Callie's hobby is gardening, so maybe she can teach us which poisonous plants might be used to murder someone. Whatever skills each of us has, we have to teach the basics to the group, to 'pool our resources.'"
"Then I can teach you the skill of playing air hockey," Tony said innocently.
Nancy stomped her foot, which was difficult to do since she was still lying on the ground. "You have a million skills, Tony. How to run a business and construct things and do karate and now you even know how to make out. What can I teach everyone?"
"You will not be teaching our group how to make out," Tony said. "You have a good brain and you have people skills. There's something about you, Nancy...I mean, you drove me crazy after a few hours of arcade games and washing dishes. And this conversation has convinced me—" Tony put his shirt back on and stood up—"every detective, every woman, needs to know basic self-defense. Stand up for your first lesson."
Nancy complied. Of all the things that Tony taught her the rest of that afternoon, she found the stances themselves to be the most difficult: abs contracted but not sucked in, which leg should be weight-bearing, back straight with shoulders back and down. He focused on defensive techniques: attacking the parts of the body that were most vulnerable, how to position her feet on an attacker's hip bones to shove him off her, blocking and turning to run, lying on her back and bicycle kicking. He made sure to give plenty of physical positive reinforcement as Nancy showed progress.
"You're getting it," Tony said at the end of her lesson, hugging her from behind. "So first I taught you how to make someone feel good, and then I taught you how to make someone feel bad. Remember, when all else fails, there's always a move called 'Twist and Shout,' although I'd rather you not practice it on me."
Nancy twisted around and kissed him. "Tony," she whispered, "It's getting late and I'm getting cold."
They fixed each other's hair the best that they could; a mostly futile effort, as both of them had curly hair that rarely obeyed orders. They put their shoes on and Nancy looked one last time at their special place in the grass.
Tony asked if she wanted the bike or the bike's handlebars. "I brought my bike today because I was afraid you might be too exhausted making out all afternoon to walk back to town," he said.
"Thanks for thinking of me, but I'd rather walk. Although I'm sure I will fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow tonight," Nancy reassured him.
"You know," Tony mused, once more riding his bike as she walked next to him, "I really would feel better knowing that you knew some karate. Do you think your dad would let you sign up for class?"
"My dad would be okay with it because he'd want me to be able to defend myself, too," Nancy replied. "But I don't want to be the only person there starting from the beginning."
"Everybody in your class would be starting from the beginning. The new White Belt class begins at the end of next month," Tony said. "The instructors cancelled my class for this week so they could try to recruit new students. I'm already working a lot with Frank, since he's a blue belt and trying to become a purple belt, so he and I volunteered to do a demonstration. Maybe you could come see us on Friday afternoon and decide if you want to sign up."
"Cool," Nancy said. "Yeah. I think I want to. Very sexy, by the way, being fourteen years old with a purple belt. I googled it and it's way high up."
Tony grinned at her. "Frank will earn his purple belt maybe next year. I'm glad I can help him with something in return, with all the help he gives me in math theories. Oh, damn." Tony stopped pedaling.
"What?" Nancy stopped walking and followed his gaze.
They had taken the least populated roads back into town. Michael's pickup truck was parked fifty feet in front of them.
"Whatever he's doing, we shouldn't interrupt him," Tony said. "We need to slowly back up and return the way we came from."
But just then the driver's side door to Michael's pickup truck opened. Michael stepped out and shut the door behind him, buckling his belt while walking toward them.
"Is Polly in there with you?" Tony snapped, still sitting on his bike. "Teen pregnancy is not sexy, remember, Michael?"
"I am twenty years old," Michael said, stopping in front of them. "And I'm sure you two have done nothing but hold hands with gloves on all day."
Then his demeanor changed. Throughout every brief encounter she'd had with him, Michael had kept a carefully neutral, guarded expression, with a tone of voice that was kind, yet expecting to be obeyed; now his eyes narrowed slightly and his posture became more rigid. Nancy found herself cringing, dreading the moment when he would speak.
"Nonna told me you two went fooling around her house, asking nonsense questions about tombstones," Michael said, standing very close to Tony and looking down at him. "What someone died of, why she died so young, how she knew your coach and why he would be so upset. These questions are disrespectful to people's grief. There is not a big exciting mystery behind it, and you will not use sad events for your own amusement. If you are bored then I can think of quite a few things you can do instead. Stata zeet. Am I clear?"
Tony had appeared sullen and embarrassed for the majority of the lecture. He looked up at Michael and nodded.
"Let me catch you messing around in other people's business again and you and I will have problems," Michael said. "I mean it, Tony. You've got to stop pushing me."
Michael turned to Nancy. "And I'm counting on you to be a good influence on my brother."
Nancy followed Tony's example, answering with only a simple nod.
Michael walked back to his truck, got in, and turned on the ignition. Nancy and Tony didn't move or speak until the truck had turned a corner in the distance.
"It is disrespectful to humiliate me in front of my girl," Tony muttered.
"I'm humiliated, not you. I should have told him that it's my fault we were researching headstones," Nancy said quietly. "How can I be a detective if I'm so cowardly? Your brother scared me just then."
"I'm sure he figured out that we were in it together," Tony said, taking her hand. "Michael's nobody to be afraid of. He gets like that when he means there's no more warnings. It's a good thing you didn't talk back to him because I want him to like you. He doesn't dislike you now, he just doesn't know you yet."
The mood for their special day had changed. The sun was just beginning to set in the sky; they both agreed that it might help Carson's opinion of Tony if Nancy got home a little bit early. Nancy risked riding on Tony's handlebars once again, and it was more of a thrill this time since she knew what to expect.
She had a distracted dinner with her father and stepmother and spent the evening on three-way with Bess and George, telling them everything. For some reason, they were much more interested in Nancy's boyfriend than her case.
Nancy did a Google search of Sophie Conners at the end of the evening. She tried the search in a variety of ways, but the internet revealed nothing about who she was or why she'd died young. She emailed Frank and Biff to tell them that she'd told Tony about the mystery and what had happened that day. She eventually received responses that it would not be a good idea to continue to interview people about Sophie, even other people their age; Bayport was a small town and word would quickly spread that they were looking into it.
Finally, Nancy conducted a lengthy Google search on Italian culture regarding death and grieving. None of the articles she found mentioned that it was considered disrespectful to ask why someone had died. She went to bed with a nagging feeling that Michael had overreacted.