Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys, unfortunately, but I'm sure with careful planning and a lucky lotto ticket I could buy them and then I would make millions...no billions. HaHaHaHeHe-ahem.

Anyways, you all probably thought I'd died, but alas I am still alive and writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter because twelve is already typed up and so is chapter 13. i've also got twenty-one typed, but that won't come until later. I really hope you enjoy. I'm actually keeping my fingers crossed here. Again, hope you like this one and please review if you do.

Luv ya,

PoliticalBlonde

PS: I am so excited to be back!!! And please, if you review, thank msnancydrew because she is my wonderful BETA reader. Thanks a ton!


Ch. 11 Getting Some Answers

"What! You have got to be kidding me Joe. A corpse can't just up and walk away." Claire moved forward to look into the mud pit only to have Joe's statement confirmed; there was no body to be seen only mud. "Perhaps we should see that he didn't just sink."

"Claire, the mud wasn't even knee deep on you guys, I highly doubt he sank."

Claire exhaled exasperatedly causing her breath to fog in the cold air. "Well, pardon me for being optimistic." She took on a more serious face. "Well, our killer clearly wasn't in bed last night because I'm sure he or she would be the only one to know this body was here besides us. They also have the motive to move it. I guess it is a good thing you and Frank started on it the other night or we'd have nothing at all."

"Yeah, I guess it is good, but we didn't really get any answers the other night." He sighed before walking around the perimeter of the pit with his hands on his hips. "I'm guessing our person went in that direction." He pointed to his left. "There is mud all over the grass there. It can't be from you guys last night because it heads away from the house."

"Well, I guess we'd better get to work," Claire stated cheerfully. "So do you want the bodiless pit or the bushes again?"

"I think I'll take the bushes, I want my beeper back," Joe answered as he headed for the bushes he had been in last night. "And besides, you owe me after the way you mutilated my arm."

Claire guffawed. "Excuse me; I did not mutilate your arm. I just lightly pinched it." Joe snorted at this. "Besides, my arm is hurt. I can't exactly climb in and out of the pit."

"One, you did not pinch my arm lightly, you nearly drew blood and two, you climbed out just fine the other night so you've got no excuses."

Claire thought a moment before groaning. "You got me there, Hardy. I guess I'll enjoy my mud bath." She made her way to the edge of the pit.

Joe chuckled, "Yeah, you do that." He immediately bent down on one knee reaching his hand in for his beeper. He felt around for a moment before putting his face flat on the ground to see under the bushes. Joe immediately shot up. "Hey! My beeper is gone! That sucker stole my beeper! That thing cost me $400! It had GPS and everything!"

Claire rolled her eyes deciding to start on the outside of the pit and work her way in so she crouched by the mud that had been dragged up when the body was moved. After a moment of scanning the ground she smirked. "Lovely, we can add Grand Larceny to our list of crimes. Man, this guy has eclectic tastes: larceny, murder, poetry, coffee."

"Coffee?" Joe asked standing.

Claire nodded. "Yes, coffee. There are grounds of coffee in this mud. Seems to me someone had coffee last night before coming to get the body and forgot to wash their hands."

"We'll have to ask around. Maybe someone saw someone get coffee last night."

"Yeah, we'll have to do that as soon as we find my beeper. Too bad we don't have phones. If we did I'd simply call it."

"Hate to tell you Joe, but in case you haven't noticed our killer is very smart. I'm sure that even with our lack of phone availability he's crushed or fried your beeper by now, just to be on the safe side."

Joe gasped dramatically and clutched at his heart. "Oh, my poor baby, to die so young is such a pity."

"Yes, yes tragic, now stop goofing and start sleuthing."

"Hey, you're a poet!"

Claire cocked her head in confusion for a moment. "What do you-oh." She laughed as she replayed her statement in her head. She was a regular Dr. Seuss.

HHHHHHH

Nancy sighed as she made her way to the staff quarters. It was 10am and time for her to start questioning employees. Seeing a maid exiting a room down the hall Nancy quickly jogged over to her. There was no sense waking other people up when this woman was clearly awake. "Excuse me, Miss?"

The short woman was plump with scarlet curls slicked back into a knot. At the sound of Nancy's voice she glanced up from the pile of towels in her arms. "Yes, is there something I can help you with or have you come to question me like the others? I really do have to work you know."

Nancy nodded in understanding. "Yes of course. Well, I am here for the latter of those two choices, but if you help me with my questions I'll help you with the cleaning. It would only be fair." Plus, I'll get the chance to go through these rooms without drawing attention.

The woman seemed to think on it before giving a curt nod. "Grab that second pile of towels and follow me." Nancy smiled and did as she was told, picking up the towels and heading into the first room.

The woman immediately started dusting off the TV stand. "Just put two towels in the bathroom and take out the old ones. So what questions do you have? I can wait for each one or just start answering the ones I've already been asked."

Nancy smiled to herself as she picked a dirty towel off the bathroom floor. "Why don't you start with what you've told the others and then if I still have questions I'll ask them."

"Ok, well to start out I've been asked quite a bit about the old Mistress. Mistress Gramgee was fairly old when she first got ill so it wasn't much of a surprise to the staff that she came down so hard. Got pneumonia and just never got over it. She had it for several months before it finally took her and in that time she rarely left the house. She'd lie in bed and read constantly and would only get out of bed for an hour or two at a time. She couldn't go much of anywhere without the pneumonia anyways so it wasn't a big change for her. She had a hip replacement about five years ago and hadn't walked the same since. That made her real bitter. She used to like going into town and having a drink or two with her friends, but she couldn't do any of that and her friends were too lazy or too drunk to make there way up here to see her." The woman moved to making the bed.

"Mistress Gramgee wasn't too pleased about that. She got real lonely and started pestering the servants. It was fine at first because we all felt bad for her, but then she started calling us at all hours of the night asking for books to read, or water to drink, or to fluff her pillow; you know, things that could've waited till morning. Then one day when she was feeling pretty good she decided to sneak out and go down to town for a drink she'd been craving. She didn't make it too far though; it was pouring and she slipped on the porch. Poor woman was out there an hour in the rain and cold before we realized she was gone."

"Her Nurse, Loretta, found her and got her back inside. She was a shivering and a shaking, but she swore the whole way and screamed for a scotch. Course, no one obliged her. A few weeks later she started getting real tired and had these horrible bags under her eyes. She got out of bed less and when she did it was as if she was carrying a thousand-pound-book-bag on her shoulders. She would hunch over and walk real slow. Loretta looked her over and that's when we found out she had pneumonia. She lasted for a couple months, but finally it got too much for her. She was real mad because her grandson was out of the country on business and even when he heard how bad she was he refused to return home so as she got close to death she started making up all these wild stories and illnesses trying to get him home, but he wouldn't. He's a business man and it is business first, family second. There was no profit in him coming home so he didn't."

She sighed slowly before falling silent. Nancy who had long ago finished with the towels and was now wiping a mirror let her rag freeze. "Is that all or would you like to add something?"

"Well," she bit her lip looking for the right words, "I hate to be a downer, especially without solid proof, but I really believe this to be true. I think Mistress Gramgee may have made up the story of finding the map in order to get her son home. That treasure has been a legend for years and maids and butlers have searched for it for every one of them, but never have we turned up a clue. That's why I highly doubt that Mistress Gramgee, who might I remind you was nearly always in bed, actually acquired the map. She'd have to be incredibly lucky."

"Or incredibly smart; do you know where she could have hidden it had she found the map?"

"No, but she didn't so I'm not too worried."

Nancy nodded. "Still, I'd like to think I'm not wasting my time on a non existent quest so we'll assume it exists."

"Suit yourself."

"Is it possible that when I'm done helping you, you could point me to her room?"

"Sure, but you won't find anything; the entire room has been redecorated and a closet has even been put in. It was started when Mistress Gramgee finally accepted she was dying and finished after she was gone."

"Yes, well, be that as it may I'd still like a look. Next I'd like to ask you some questions. What do you know about the Mistress's grandson?"

"He was a greedy boy and is now a greedy man. He always takes the easy way to his dreams and is a sourpuss when he doesn't get his way. That is why he brought you all in to search; it saves him time and effort. He was in fast food as a teenager, he was a cop in Phoenix for a while, but when he saw he was going no where he moved into business where he must be successful. He travels a lot and can still afford this castle so it must be going well. He's hardly ever here so I can't help you very much."

Nancy smiled pleasantly. "That's understandable. What about Timmy Bass; what can you tell me about him?"

"I take it you're investigating the murder too?"

"That's the plan."

"Well, you're the first person to ask me that. I was wondering when you sleuths would get your heads out of your arses and realize that a murder is more important than some stupid competition. Well, Timmy was new here. He was hired shortly before the Mistress died to work in the kitchen. One of the other chefs had a death in the family and he was called in quickly to replace him. Replacements are always fast here because we're like a factory; we have our assignments, we do our assignment, and we do them in order. If one person is missing and cannot do their job the entire factory shuts down. He was the youngest person on staff when he joined us and took a great interest in that treasure you're looking for both before and after the death of Mistress Gramgee. He would spend all his time outside the kitchen searching for clues and snooping around this place. I think he fancied himself a CIA spy or something. He was always hush hush about his snooping and he'd write these huge letters to his brother every week. I read one once and it was a bunch of nonsense about cooking. They must both have wanted to be chefs. Anyways, it is a tragedy he died, but I've got no doubt it is because he put his nose where it didn't belong. Curiosity killed the cat and it likely killed Timmy Bass. Anymore questions? We're done with this room so if not I can take you to the Mistress's room before I move to the next hall."

Nancy thought a moment before nodding. "Yes, that'll be all for now. What was your name so I can find you again if I have anymore questions."

"It's Lillian Carver. By the way, I should thank you kids for moving that body out of the library; I was dreading cleaning that room this morning and was pleasantly surprised to find you'd already done my job."

Nancy blanched. "What do you mean?" she asked her voice full of confusion.

"I mean the body is gone and so is every trace of it. You mean you didn't move it?"

Nancy shook her head. "No, it wasn't us, but I'll ask around and see if someone else felt the need to move it." Nancy smiled politely, but on the inside her thoughts squirmed. You just don't mess with a crime scene and a house full of sleuths should know that. Something told her their killer had been in the library last night and they had missed it.

HHHHH

Frank felt bad, no he felt worse than bad, he felt ignored and by Nancy of all people. He had woken up before her this morning and had looked over the bios she had started filling in information where he could and that hadn't pleased the female sleuth when she awoke two hours later. She had leveled a cool glare at him when he had greeted her with a cheerful, "Good morning," and had walked straight to the shower where she had finished in record time. Upon emerging she had stood in front of the mirror in a green sweater and black pants braiding her hair in silence. She glared the entire time at his reflection.

Frank had opened his mouth to say something several times as he continued working on the bios, but each time Nancy diverted her gaze from his reflection and to her weaving. Once she had a perfectly smooth braid secured she had moved for her shoes and after sliding them on had finally decided to acknowledge his presence, but only briefly. "Frank," she had said.

"Yes?" he had replied looking up from his work.

"I don't see why you feel the need to complete my work, but since your neglecting to interview the employees like you said you would last night I'll pick up the slack."

That had burned, no, seared him and he was a bit confused about it. "Nancy, we're a team. We always help each other with the tasks."

She seemed not to hear him as she reached the door to their room. "Well, I'm off to the servants' floor and then I'll probably have lunch with Max to find out if our midnight coffee drinker ever showed up. Tell Lexi when she wakes up to check out the body in the library again." Then she had walked out.

Now, as Frank continued working on her bios, he was a little ticked something he had never been with Nancy before. She was being completely immature about the state of their relationship. He had done the gentlemanly thing by keeping her from kissing him when she was so emotionally distraught and she certainly couldn't expect him to do the same thing to Callie as Ned had done to her. She was being a hypocrite and Frank despised of that because the Nancy he knew and loved, purely as a friend of course, wasn't a hypocrite. She was brilliant, beautiful, kind, mature, and very importantly forgiving and something had changed that, something by the name Ned Nickerson. Frank growled; now he was ticked at both Ned and Nancy and that was no good for his bios. He hissed frustration before shutting the notebook and falling back on his bed arms crossed.

Things had never been this hard. Sure they had been in some sticky situations such as their run in with CIA kids and Russian Spy Bessmarkov and they had nearly died in Egypt, but through it all he and Nancy had always been close, almost inseparable.

HHHHHH

Nancy gasped as she entered Mistress Gramgee's room. It was gorgeous. There were tapestries on the walls and the entire room was lilac. The furniture sported Victorian tassels and the bed spread was a maze of vines and flowers. The room was also twice the size of her guest room.

"So this is where Mistress Gramgee lived her last days."

Nancy walked to the bed and ran her hand across it feeling silk beneath her fingers. The maid had left her alone and she was glad because she would feel embarrassed doing what she was about to do with someone watching. Taking a deep breath Nancy hoisted herself onto the bed and crawled to the center settling among the pillows. She faced forward in imitation of Mistress Gramgee and stared at the lilac walls with its rows of wooden pegs holding together the wooden boards, tapestries, and pictures. So this is what Mistress Gramgee saw everyday.

Nancy sighed. "This would be so depressing. Just sitting here thinking day after day that you were going to die and that no one cared." Nancy mused to herself. Her thoughts lingered a while longer on the woman as she silently counted pegs, but soon her thoughts turned to Frank. She had went back to their room briefly to inform him about the body, before coming to check out the Mistress's room, but he had been out. Luckily, however, Lexi had been up and was more than willing to check out the body. She had been thankful for this as she didn't wish to wake him up and ask for help after the biting comments she had made that morning.

She hadn't meant to. She had just been awake most of the night thinking about her and Ned, and Callie and Frank. Needless to say, when the sandman had finally claimed her at around three she didn't have the most sleep and had thus awoken in a rather irritable state. Though she had come to the conclusion the night before that she was being a bit hard on Frank, her groggy mind registered only one word when she saw him over her papers; anger. He wasn't supposed to be doing something nice for her. He was supposed to be as angry at her as she was at him. She had, after all, made her anger more than obvious the night before, but he wasn't and that fact was making it hard for Nancy to stay mad. Why couldn't he just cooperate and stick to the argument rather than making her like him even more? Why in the world do boys have to be so difficult? This mystery was supposed to be fun; it was supposed to take my mind off of failed relationships; not put me in the biggest failed relationship of my life, the nonexistent one. This plain stinks.

Creak Nancy tensed as she heard a sound come from her left. She instantly became aware of her defenseless state. The girl detective rolled slowly on the bed, careful not to make any noise. Her blue eyes grew wide as she realized the closet door, which was merely feet away, was slowly creaking open!


A/N How's that for a cliffie? Well, I hope after a hiatus this chapter didn't disapoint you because I worked really hard on it. Well, I'll have chapter 12 up in the next few days. I'm just exstatic to be back right now!

Luv ya,

Politicalblonde