Chapter 2: Filthy Rich Nancy and Bess stretched their arms, taking in their surroundings. The train station was a dark and desolate cavern juxtaposed with elegant and extravagant decor. Nancy felt a chill make its way up her spine as she turned her head, trying to adjust to her unfamiliar surroundings. Bess straightened her posture as much as she could, hoping that she could resemble someone who belonged. "We should probably find our accommodations, Bess," Nancy said, holding her bag close to her chest. Something about West Egg was already making her apprehensive. She couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't meant to be there. "There's a man over there Nance. He looks like he might be searching for somebody," Bess said, leading Nancy to the door. Bess approached the man slowly; Nancy knew that she wasn't used to taking charge in these situations. Nancy felt a familiarity with this man, as if she'd met him before but couldn't quite place him. He was a tall man with a lean figure and an anxious disposition. He wore simple dress and kept his hands folded in front of him, as if he were anticipating something. "Nancy Drew, I presume," he said. His tone was solemn. He appeared to have been close to the deceased. Nancy wondered is his hands had recently deposited a file in a young girl's mailbox. He seemed to be the one who orchestrated her involvement. "I'm Nick Carraway. I need you to come with me. It's not safe for us to speak here." He looked around as if to make sure they weren't being watched and handed Nancy a folded piece of parchment. He turned away to leave, leaving Nancy with even more of a mystery than she had arrived with. She unfolded the parchment and read the hurried, messy handwriting to the best of her ability. It appeared to contain an address and a few specific instructions. Nancy Drew, The case file you received is secret, and my only demand is that you tell nobody why you have come here while you stay in town. The directions below will take you to an inn where you will approach the front desk and say that you have reservations under Gatz. Your friend Bess Marvin, who you requested a persona for, will approach the desk and claim her lodging under the name Smith. Your rooms are next to each other, but you must pretend that you have just met when you arrive at my home for tonight's dinner. You will receive more instructions once you arrive. Best of Luck, Nick Carraway Nancy turned to Bess, who was shivering, hugging her arms to her chest. "I don't like this place, Nance. It makes me feel uneasy." Nancy grabbed the other girl's hand, squeezing it to inspire confidence. She and Bess moved toward the exit, taking note of the scenery, trying to take a mental snapshot of the strange environment. The taxi ride from the train station to the inn seemed to be never-ending. Nancy gazed out the window at the endless gray skies that seemed to stretch into an infinite distance. It was as if the town were mourning a loss. Nancy began to wonder about the true nature of this case. The details she received were minimal. She was sure of only three things: A murder had occurred. The deceased was a Mr. Gatsby. The original suspect was dead. Bess had claimed her side of the car, spreading a magazine over her lap and settling down to read up on the current trends. Nancy envied Bess, still yearning for the life of a normal teenage girl. Though the idea of reading vapid magazine headlines and lounging beside the pool seemed somewhat boring, Nancy was jealous nonetheless. She often pictured herself living a careless and perfect existence, having a relationship that wasn't complicated by crime, having more than one living parent. She couldn't help but move her hand to her locket as she thought of her mother. Would she have been proud of Nancy, or would she have shunned her detective daughter? Nancy felt the tears begin to sting in her eyes, and she shook her head. This was no time for emotion. Bess giggled from the other side of the vehicle, running her fingers across a magazine page as she read the contents. Nancy smiled at the simple action. Bess wasn't stupid, but she was easily amused and slightly ditsy. If there was one thing Nancy was thankful for, it was her intelligence and drive. She disembarked from her train of thought as the car came to a stop. "We're here," the driver said as Bess gathered up her things and Nancy moved her hand to her purse. "Ride is payed for ma'am," the driver said, tipping his hat to Nancy. "Somebody is really pushing for us to solve this case, Nance," Bess whispered once they were out of the vehicle. "I'm going to solve this case, Bess. If I don't, then what kind of detective am I?" Bess went silent; it was clear that Nancy wasn't in the mood to talk. They checked into the inn under the names Gatz and Smith. Their rooms were adjacent and on the second floor of the building. They made their best effort to act as though they were perfect strangers; they were unsure of who was watching. Nancy made her way up to her room, avoiding any eye contact with Bess as she made her way up the opposite staircase. They would make no mistakes in keeping to themselves and only conversing when they were sure that there was no one else present. As Nancy approached her room, she wondered what the details of this case would reveal to her. She thought of the clues that she would inevitably come across and the nature of each of the suspects that Mr. Carraway had slipped into her file. She wondered about the nature of the relationship between Mr. Carraway and his ill-fated neighbor. More specifically, she wondered why Mr. Caraway was suspicious enough to call on a detective for a case that appeared to be closed. It had only been a few days since the murder of Mr. Gatsby, and there were already too many questions. Nancy entered her room, the turn of the key in the lock reminding her of home. She felt excitement building up in her chest as she crossed the threshold and flipped on the light switch. She turned on the radio and opened the closet, unpacking her clothing. On one of the closet shelves, she noticed a note that bore her name. She opened it and read the letter. Nancy Drew, Now that you have arrived at your lodging I can further divulge the information of this case. The contents of this envelope serve to explain your role, your persona. Underneath your bed, you will find a garment bag with your attire for the evening. I hope you did as you were instructed and packed the most simple clothing you own. The gown underneath the bed is the be the most extravagant piece of clothing you own, Miss Helen Gatz. You are a simple farm girl, and you are unfamiliar with the strange ways of your rich and distant cousin, Jay Gatsby. You will refer to the deceased as Jim, for you only ever knew him as cousin Jim. You will meet your uncle Henry Gatz. He is the brother of your father, who has been dead for the past twelve years. You were raised by your mother in rural North Dakota, and you haven't seen your cousin since he left home at age eighteen. You are a simple farm girl and nothing else. You will act amazed by the ways of the upper class and act confused when they talk money, possessions, and current events. You will be introduced to me by Mr. Gatz tonight, and I will introduce you to my cousin, Evie Smith, who you already know as Bess. A Mrs. Meyers will arrive to escort you to a car some time around 6 o'clock. Do not be late. Thank you Miss Drew, Nick Carraway Nancy made her way over to the bed and reached her hand underneath, feeling for the garment. She hung the bag on the back of the closet door and unzipped it. The dress was beautiful, a stunning blue with feathers and beads that must have been hand sewn into the material. She had never seen anything like it. It was both elegant and flashy, regal and simple. For one night, at least, she could pretend to be a normal young girl. She wondered what Bess would be wearing, and she wondered about the contents of the letter Bess had received. She truly hoped that they would be able to keep up this charade long enough to solve this murder and bring justice for the deceased Mr. Gatsby. As the excitement of the night continued to build, Nancy prepared for the role of a lifetime.