Foreword: Here is another update for this week. I'm almost halfway there and am planning to make this story fourteen chapters long. I already have in my mind not only the ending of the story but also the next mystery that I will write. I will start to scatter clues about the person who will appear in the next story. After reading a parody of the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys Super Mystery parody published here in FanFiction, I started to wonder if I followed the old-fashioned storyline too much. Therefore, the next mystery will be nothing like the three mysteries that I have written so far, with more character development. I'll tell you where I hid the clues when I finish the last chapter. Here is the newest chapter that goes into detail about the mysterious Maria Voorhees that appeared at the beginning of the story. Enjoy and review, please!

6

Final Requiem

Maria Voorhees was sitting by her beloved grand piano. The weather outside was ugly. Thunders roared everywhere, from the distant sea in the horizon to the clouds floating menacingly just over the house in which the young pianist lived. Lightning would strike once in a short while as Maria played her favorite piece: Requiem by Mozart, arranged especially for a piano solo. She didn't care what the weather was outside; it could be sunny and hot, it could be cold and snowing, it could be hazy and mystifying, or it could be as horrible and frightening as that night. She accepted nature as a huge chorus of eclectic voices singing arias around her in the most unorganized of style. The bass would be the sound of the waves crashing into the cliff on which her house stood. The tenor would be the lightening that appeared once in a while, falling onto a tree far or near. The alto would be the sound the raindrops make as they hit the windowpane one by one and falling down into the violent blue oceans below. And the soprano, of course, would be her music. Her piano would produce the most beautiful of all parts in a choir and soothe the listeners, if there were anyone nearby to listen to her fine playing at all. It was she who lived in the majestic house. And she was the only one, with nobody living near and her neighbors would be miles away in a nearby town, even though she didn't consider it near at all. She would play; she would play until her fingers ached; she would play until her head was a daze; she would play until the lightning would stop; she would play until the thunder ceased—in short, she would play until the end of time, the end of all eternity and the mysterious presence called music that had existed for millennia after millennia, played with vigor and love by people who made music their way of life, their way to express themselves, their way to survive.

It was thought that she would never cease playing her piano. However, she did, eternally.

The young pianist passed away one summer morning after taking an overdose of cyanide. Her body was found by her aunt, who happened to come to her house only two hours after her death.

The exact reason she committed suicide wasn't known; she got accepted into a prestigious school of music and passed with a magnificent score. Her future was bright, her past a glamour. She was believed to be the best pianist of all times. Therefore, it wasn't of any surprise to say that people were awestruck to hear of her death. She wasn't supposed to die; she was supposed to live and play for the world. She was supposed to inspire the world and billions who lived in it.

Nancy Drew and Bess Marvin were in their hotel room. Nancy was staring at the notes she took at the scene of the crime and Bess was deciding which shirt to wear for the next day. Nancy scribbled something on a piece of paper, shook her head, crumbled up the paper, and threw it into the basket without looking up. The crumbled sheet of paper touched the top of the trashbin, rolled around the rim for a second or so, and went in without making a sound, for there were many more crumbled sheets of paper in it. All those sheets of paper contained the girl detective's note on how the impossible alibi was gained, but she rejected as soon as she looked at it after vigorously scribbling her ideas onto the paper.

Bess was humming to herself as she picked up a shirt from her suitcase, holding it in front of her as she stood in front of a mirror. Then, with a sigh of rejection, she would toss the shirt into her suitcase and take another one out. She already went through two of her four suitcases, and she was still deciding upon which of the ten yellow shirts would match her yellow skirt. Because she learned painting when she was very young, the girl had a keen sense in color and knew which shade of a certain matched another color and which did not. She threw away her love of painting, though, after knowing that painting didn't suit her when she read about how Van Gough cut his ear off and shot himself before finally becoming famous.

In short, the two girls were doing different things and didn't even bother to disturb each other.

"Did the killer kill Jack first, then heated up the heater, warming up the body and therefore confuse the police?" Nancy asked herself. Then, she shook her head. "That wouldn't be possible, since the officer said that the heater was turned off the entire time and the fireplace hasn't been used for a long time, which was normal."

Then, a thought occurred to her. "Did the killer some how shortened the distance from the concert hall to the victim's house?"

She took out the map of the area. The address of Jack's house was 17499 Third Avenue, Bothell. She found the Rhody Ridge County Arboretum. The arboretum was less than a mile from the victim's house. The girl detective then traced the road they went to get there and measured the distance from the house to the concert hall. The concert hall's address was 1150 One-Fourteenth Avenue, Bellevue, and the girl detective found out that they were exactly twenty-one miles apart from each other, therefore taking roughly thirty minutes to get there from the concert hall, and she could find no shortcut.

"A dead end," she muttered, throwing her pencil after aiming it at the trash bin.

She missed.

Frank Hardy sat on his bed, thinking. Joe was reading a book on the bed next to his brother's. Joe looked up. Frank seemed to be deep in thought.

"What's up, bro?" he called, closing his book.

Frank didn't answer.

"The case?" Joe asked.

His brother nodded. "It's just way too complicated. I'm sure that the killer is one of the seven suspects, but I don't know who or how the person killed Jack when all the suspects were miles away from the scene of the crime. It just doesn't add up."

Joe looked at the cover of his book and thought for a moment. "What about magic?"

Frank turned around, facing his brother. "What?"

"Magic. You know… the stuff that makes things disappear or reappear or go up in flames and reappear unharmed or cut a person in half and then connect him or her, that sort of stuff."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Joe, you know that magic has a trick behind it. For example, the trick for cutting a person in half and reconnecting him or—in most cases of magic shows—her is putting two people into the same box. When the girl gets in, she sticks out her head and the other girl in the box sticks out her legs. Then, when the magician—in most cases is a hunky man whom women adore—cuts the box in half, the girls are both unharmed."

Opening his book again, Joe grinned. "Yeah. So do you think there's a trick involved in this case as well?"

Frank stopped. He hadn't thought of that. "But…" he started. "I don't think there's a trick that lets a person kill another person from distance, unless that killer used an accomplice…"

Joe started reading the book. "Uh-huh. You know, Houdini escaped from the most inescapable situations and accomplished the impossible. Do you think the killer did the same?"

This made Frank frown. "I just don't get it," he muttered. "I just don't get it."

"Come on, this isn't the first mystery you solved," said Joe encouragingly. "I know that you can solve this one. You have the brains; I got the muscles."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Okay, Joe. Your muscles attracted Iola, all right."

Joe added, "And my looks."

Frank made a motion of throwing up. "Please! You're so full of yourself."

"It's called self-esteem, big bro."

The older Hardy looked at the alibi timeline he jotted down. "At six, Jennifer was performing and Mrs. Fontaine was listening to her playing. At six-fifteen, Abraham was performing and Luke went out to buy a drink. At six-thirty, Smith performed and Leticia brought unnecessary instruments to back of concert hall. At six forty-five, Jennifer talked with Katrina, Abraham talked to Smith, and Leticia talked to Mrs. Mott. Therefore, the only people who didn't have a solid alibi at that time were Luke and Mrs. Fontaine, as Nancy told me before. And then, at seven, Katrina performed and Mrs. Fontaine came back to listen to the, once again. At seven-fifteen, all members of the quartet and the conductor were there, so their alibis are solid then. And Mrs. Mott was seen at the local store buying a drink."

Frank then groaned. "It's way too complicated!"

Joe looked at the notes his brother took at the crime scene. "Hmm…"

Nancy sighed. Then, she noticed that she hadn't even eaten dinner yet. "Because of all these excitements, I forgot that I'm hungry," she said with a grin. "We ate lunch at three, and now it's nine. Should we go to a nearby store to buy something to eat?"

"Or better yet," said Bess. She held out what she was reading. "I found this really fantastic restaurant on this magazine. I think we should go there. What do you think?"

"What do they serve?"

"Steak, fish, poultry, salads, pizza, burgers… You name it. In fact, the name of the restaurant is 'Your Choice Bistro'!"

Nancy chuckled. "Okay, Bess. That sounds great. Let's go!"

The girls sat down right by the window. In the restaurant, all the windows had curtains, and the curtains of the window the girls sat by were closed. Nancy and Bess each ordered a dinner combo and waited for the waiter to come back with the dishes.

"Oh, I need to call George to see how she's doing," Nancy muttered. She then turned around to her purse. After getting her cell phone, she once again turned toward Bess. But this time, Bess wasn't the only one looking at her.

Nancy saw a pair of eyes staring at her. With a shudder, Nancy immediately opened up the curtains. The figure was gone.

"What's up?" Bess asked, concerned.

Nancy closed the curtains. "We've been followed."

Bess gasped. "Did you see who it was?"

Nancy shook her head. "But I have a hunch that the we'll be seeing that person again. All I know is that the person used a black hat and a handkerchief of some sort to hide his or her face. I couldn't even tell if it was a man or woman!"

The dinner arrived, and the girls gratefully dug in. After eating, Nancy remembered that she was planning to call George. Taking her cell phone, the redheaded girl dialed her friend's cell phone number and waited until an energetic voice came from the other side of the line. "Hey, Nance!"

Grinning, Nancy asked, "How was the marathon?"

"Great!" George said breathlessly. "I even met Timmy Lasso!"

"Really?" Nancy asked in astonishment. "The Timmy Lasso? The three-time winner of the Annual National Marathon Association Competition?"

George seemed too excited to answer. "Yes!" she cried in joy after a while. "That's Timmy Lasso, also known as the Beagle, who won three consecutive tournaments!"

Bess heard the name and immediately stood up and took the phone from Nancy. "George!" she called. "Did you get his autograph?"

George again answered yes, and Nancy could imagine her friend standing there with the autograph of her favorite athlete in her hands. "So," George then asked as Nancy took the phone from Bess, "how are things going over there?"

"Good and bad, depending on what you're asking."

"What do you mean?"

Nancy explained everything that had happened so far. George listened, obviously astounded.

"Nancy, you either find trouble everywhere or trouble finds you," she commented.

After a few more minutes of talking, the girl detective hung up. She then noticed that she received a new mail. Opening it, she read the message:

"Those who seek the truth will be buried by the MUSICIAN FROM THE GRAVE."

Postscript: Who sent the threatening message? What is on Joe's mind? Put in mind that there is one important clue introduced in here, if you can find it. I'll tell you the clue again later in the story and how it's important. The next chapter is titled: Tragedy Under the Moonlight.

Sneak Preview:

A hooded figure came into the room in which Nancy was kept. As the girl detective tried desperately to free herself, the figure silently brought up the scythe, which reflected her horrified face.