Disclaimer: Don't own.

14

Since I was still pretty much bawling on the floor, Joe tried not to leave until later in the day. The next day, of course. However, he had a plane ticket for about seven thirty in the morning (when everyone else was still asleep), and he had to leave. Non-refundable ticket, see. Man, I hate those things.

I stayed in bed all morning, trying to decide what to do about Ned being dead, like who to call, and what to do about Sophia, who was still lingering somewhere in the living room. So having nothing else to do, I called Prudence Rutherford.

"Hello? Marguerite?"

Oh, snap. Did nobody tell her that Marguerite was dead?

"Um, actually, it's Nancy. Nancy Drew."

"Oh," Prudence said. She sounded a little wilted. "I was hoping for a call from Marguerite. We have many things to discuss, her and I."

"Prudence, I - I hate to have to tell you this, but Marguerite…she won't be calling you."

"Why? Is she too busy tanning?"

"She's dead."

There was silence on Prudence's end of the line. Then she exclaimed, "Marguerite always was a smart one! Her way of getting out of talking to me about my stolen things! Her way of avoiding talking to me at all!"

"Uh, Prudence, she was stabbed."

"…oh. Well, thanks for telling me, dear. I'll just be going along now. Ginger is barking madly and I don't know why…oh, Lord - I know why. Hey, you, drop that monstrous thing you call a purse! I don't see why -"

And she hung up. I gazed down at the cream-colored phone in my hand, shocked. Prudence didn't seem too sad.

Then I remembered how Marguerite had insulted my outfit every single time I'd gone up to talk to her, and how she's even gone after my straightened hair. Okay, so maybe Prudence had her reasons.

Just like I had my reasons for being sad about Ned.

Great. Now I'm about to start sobbing again.

No! Mystery! Focus! I literally smacked myself in the head, picking up my phone. I was wondering who to call, staring down at it, when it started to ring. I should have realized that it was Nico because of the ringtone – Good Girls Go Bad by Cobra Starship.

"Uh, hi?" I squeaked.

"Hey, Elizabeth-slash-Nancy, it's Nico."

Oh yeah. He knew. I wonder how the Papermate pencils he figured it out. "Um, what's up?"

"The police have been inactive for days."

"Well, yeah. Sophia is…well…" I didn't really want to mention the whole Ned-has-died thing.

"Oh, uh, sorry about that." Great. He thought I was talking about how Sophia was still mad at me. (Which she was.)

"No, it's okay."

"Thanks for, you know, saving me."

"No prob."

"And be careful out there."

That rang bells in my head, signaling 'Ned line! Ned line!' Oh this is gonna be nice. Thanks, Nico. "O - okay."

"Whoa, are you okay?"

"Um, yeah. To - totally."

"No, you're not. What happened? Never mind, I'm coming over there."

"Whaaaat?"

But he had already hung up. Man, what was it with all these people hanging up on me mid-conversation these days? Had I really become that annoying?

I distinctly remembered a time when I'd called Ned annoying, and I slowly sat down on my bed, trying to hold back tears. And I'd thought I'd been all out of tears. I'd thought that my tear ducts had run out of battery, but apparently, they were like Energizer Bunnies. They just keep going.

There was a rap-rap-rap at the balcony door. I stood up and stumbled over to it, swinging it open. Nico. Of course.

"Hey," he said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. I noticed that he was wearing a black collared shirt today rather than just a random form-fitting black shirt. Uh…forget I said that.

"Hi."

"Seriously, what happened?" Nico led the way out onto the balcony, sounding quite concerned. It almost made me want to laugh. Who ever would have thought that the Phantom, the criminal, would be concerned about why I, the detective, was crying? My life is a strange one.

I blurted out the answer before I could stop myself. "Ned died."

And then, as I said it, it became true. I hadn't really thought about, you know, never seeing Ned ever again, never hearing him laugh ever again, and the tears started to come. Stupid Energizer Bunny.

I tried to think of Ned as going down bravely in battle with an evil villain, but all I could remember was the guy who loved sour cream and onion dip and loved to watch the Superbowl. Nevertheless, I cried harder.

Nico looked like he didn't know what to do. I wouldn't have known what to do, either, if I were him. All I know is that I wouldn't have done what he did next.

He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head, all the time saying comforting words, offering condolences. But what surprised me the most was that I didn't back away.

And even as I staunched my flow of tears with Nico's shirt, Antonio Fango put down his binoculars and picked up his camera.