Chapter 9: Family Secrets
Author's Note: I'm so sorry for taking so long to update...I have a small child who no longer takes naps. Thanks so much to everyone who has stuck with me despite the erratic posting schedule. Special thanks to reader Cherylann Rivers for practically writing me an essay after every chapter!, and to SparklingSoul and max2013 for their dependable encouragement. Readers like you make this writer very happy.
Clank. Clankclank. Clank.
"Joe, cut it out," Nancy mumbled groggily.
Clank. Clank.
Nancy pulled the pillow over her head. "Joseph. Whatever you're working on, take it out to the garage."
Joe pulled the pillow off her head. "Oh good, you're awake. I can't Houdini this, Nan. Where's the key?"
"The key?" That sounded important. Nancy dragged herself upright, forced her eyes open, waited as the world swam slowly into focus.
"What time is it?"
"Uh, hold on." There was a brief scuffling sound as Joe retrieved his phone from the bedside table. "Quarter to five."
Nancy groaned. "Okay."
"You can go back to sleep after you grab me the key," Joe said, rolling back toward her. Nancy squinted at him. In the streetlight's weak and watery pre-dawn glow his body looked unfamiliar, a statue rather than flesh and blood. The illusion was compounded by the peculiar way he was holding his right arm. Nancy looked again and suddenly all traces of drowsiness were gone.
"You're still handcuffed!" she gasped, leaping toward the dresser. "Joe, I'm so sorry. Did you fall asleep like that?"
Joe laughed and tugged at his wrist again, producing the clanking noise which had awakened her. "We both just passed out. I woke up a few minutes ago and tried to slip out of it without waking you. Guess I've lost my touch."
"I'm sorry," Nancy said again, too distracted to see the absurd humor in the situation. "Where's the key?"
"It should be right there."
"Should be," Nancy repeated, pushing aside a small roll of copper wire, a fuse, and a stack of quarters. Joe was a neat person in general, but he tended to accumulate an eclectic assortment of stuff. She had just pulled open a desk drawer to check there when the bedroom door opened and Frank stepped in, already fully dressed in his police uniform.
"Hey, Joe, did I leave my flashlight last-"
Frank froze in the doorway, horrified and embarrassed. For one stunned moment Nancy froze, too. Then they both sprang into action. Frank turned away, his hand going up to cover his eyes as though he could retroactively prevent himself from seeing anything; Nancy, meanwhile, abandoned what remained of her dignity in one headlong leap for the bed. She yanked the sheet up to her shoulders and breathed a fervent thanks to the universe that the room was so dim.
"Frank! What the hell!" Joe was yelling. "Knock, you boulder-brained jackass! Do I have to revert to the sock-on-the-doorknob system?"
"I am so sorry!" Frank said, his back still turned to them. "I didn't know you'd stayed over, Nancy. I'm so sorry." He reached behind himself for the door and started to pull it closed.
"Frank, wait. Do you have your handcuff keys on you?" Joe called.
"Yes," Frank said warily.
"Great. Come here and unlock me."
"Good lord. No. Unlock your own sex cuffs."
"We will, as soon as I solve The Mystery of the Missing Sex Cuff Key," Nancy told him, having recovered enough to joke about the situation.
"Just unlock me. I've been stuck here all night and I've got to pee."
Frank stepped forward, an expression of exquisite discomfort on his face, and freed his brother's wrist with his own handcuff keys. "How many times do I have to beg you to keep me in complete ignorance of your sex life?" he muttered, addressing the remark to a picture on Joe's wall rather than make eye contact with either of the bed's occupants.
"I don't think that's quite fair, when we're all going to be expected to admire the proof of yours in about nine months," Joe teased.
"That's different," Frank said, flustered.
"I walked in on you and Callie one time in high school. So let's just call it even."
"Fine." Frank still looked uncomfortable. He went over to Joe's desk and picked through the bits and pieces the guys had left out the evening before. "I just needed my flashlight. Here it is. I am so sorry, Nancy."
"It's fine, Frank. Our days can only get better from this point, right?"
Frank actually cracked a smile. "Yeah, that's true. I'm headed out. I'll see you guys later. With any luck I'll see much less of you."
The door closed. Joe tossed his handcuffs on the floor and rolled over, wrapping his arms around Nancy's waist and kissing her on the curve of her side and low on her belly.
"I thought you had to pee," Nancy said reluctantly.
"I do," he said, voice muffled against her skin. "Don't move, Drew." He pressed a kiss to her collarbone and bounded out of bed. Nancy had just enough time to sit up, swing her legs off the side of the bed, and pull on his discarded t-shirt before he was back.
"Where do you think you're going?" he said, pulling her back down into their nest of blankets.
"I need a shower before I go catch the Rodanski girls," Nancy told him half-heartedly.
"It's still really early." He slid a hand over her hip and up her side, bunching up the fabric of his t-shirt, before sliding down again to kiss her sleep-warm skin. "Stay," he said. He looked up at her, eyes dark and intense, hair hopelessly tousled, and Nancy couldn't resist. She surrendered herself into his very capable hands.
After the previous night's playfulness it was nice to keep things simple. Nancy propped herself on her elbows and let her head fall back as Joe pushed her knees apart with exactly the right degree of roughness. He settled himself between her thighs, sweet-talking her in gasps and moans, his desire feeding hers until they were both wound tight with it.
"I love you," he whispered afterward, while they still lay tangled together. His face was relaxed, almost vulnerable; his energetic body was completely still for once. Nancy turned her head and kissed the closest body part, which happened to be his shoulder.
"Even though I left you locked up all night?" she said, frustrated with herself for joking instead of being serious. But Joe didn't look hurt.
"It was worth it," he said. "Next time, we should cuff both hands."
"Ooh. Already planning next time?"
"I can't get enough of you. You know that."
"The feeling is mutual," Nancy told him. She cupped his face with her unbandaged hand. His cheek felt rough beneath her fingertips. She drew in a long breath, wishing she could inhale an extra bit of courage along with the oxygen.
"I love you, Joe." The words still felt very new in her mouth, very awkward despite their rightness. She had not truly offered her heart this way since high school, since those first heady months with Ned, and she was more than a little afraid of the magnitude of it.
As if reading her thoughts, Joe turned his face and kissed her palm. "Don't be afraid."
"It's a big word. Love."
"It's the truth. Is it the truth for you, Nancy?"
She looked into his eyes, her gaze steady and sincere, and let go of her fear. "It's the truest thing I know."
"Then we're all right." Joe pulled the blankets up around them and settled back, running a hand lightly up and down Nancy's back. Nancy closed her eyes. The young detectives slipped back into sleep, content and secure in each other's arms.
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"Excuse me," Nancy called, hurrying after the two blonde girls she'd spotted across the foyer. "Maggie and Jenny Rodanski?"
They paused, half-turning, a mirror image of suspicion. "Who are you?" the one on the left demanded.
"Nancy Drew," she said, pulling out her ID. "I'm a private detective. Faith may have mentioned my name to you?"
The twin on the right was nodding. "Yes. Hi. I'm Jenny."
"Maggie," the twin on the left said.
"Do you have a moment to talk in private?" Nancy asked.
The girls exchanged a glance. "Sure," Maggie said. "We're free right now."
"We can use the sewing classroom," Jenny said, leading the way to the first door down the right-hand hallway. "It's always empty this hour."
"We don't know anything about what happened to Brendan," Maggie said, setting her notebook down on an empty work table. She looked nervous.
Nancy headed for the lectern but changed her mind and settled for perching on another table. "This is all just routine," she told the girls, trying to reassure them. "Can you tell me what you were doing the night of the murder?"
The girls exchanged another look. Nancy was beginning to wish she had brought Joe along so they could question the sisters separately. If they were going to prepare a story, they've already had time to do it, she realized. Whatever they were going to tell her, she would simply have to take it with a grain of salt.
"We went to our friend Jasmine's senior runway project," Jenny said.
"We were there until like 9:00. Then we went to the afterparty at her apartment."
"And what time did you leave there?"
"We didn't," Maggie said.
"Yes, you did," Jenny said. Nancy raised her eyebrows. Evidently the girls had not rehearsed their testimony after all.
Maggie looked annoyed. "I met a guy," she said huffily. "I went back to his dorm with him. But that doesn't count. I mean, it was part of the party."
"But you returned to campus that night," Nancy said evenly. "Do you remember what time that was?"
"No," Maggie said.
"It was a little after 1," Jenny volunteered.
"How do you remember stuff like that?" Maggie asked.
"Maybe because I don't start doing shots the second I get to a party," Jenny said pointedly.
"Girls," Nancy said, cutting off their incipient fight before it could begin. "Moving on. Does the name 'gargoylegrinning' mean anything to you?"
They both looked puzzled for a moment before Jenny said, hesitantly, "Isn't that the name of that band that opened for Logan Strange at the civic center the other night?"
Maggie shook her head. "No, you're thinking of Gargoyle Graveyard."
"Oh," said Jenny. "Then no. I'm sorry."
"That's still pretty similar," Nancy said thoughtfully. "Do gargoyles have a particular meaning at this school? Are they a mascot for something, or is the word a slang term for something?"
"Not that I know of," Maggie said. "And we would have heard about it. We know literally everybody here."
"Please let me know if the word comes up again. It's an odd coincidence," Nancy said.
"Faith said this all has to do with that family heirloom Bren was always looking for," Jenny said hesitantly.
"That seems to be the case," Nancy told her.
Again, the twins exchanged that quick glance. This time Maggie spoke up. "That doesn't make sense."
"Why do you say that?" Nancy asked. She kept her voice even, but inside she was lighting up with excitement.
"Because it wasn't in River Heights," Maggie said matter-of-factly. "My mom knows that for a fact. She told us about it when we were kids."
Then what did Brendan dig up? Nancy wondered. Aloud, she said, "Did she ever tell you where it went?"
"That's complicated," Maggie began.
"Okay," Jenny interjected, leaning forward eagerly. "So, like, this is a big thing in our family. Half of us will swear that whatever it was, it was still hidden somewhere on the family property. The other half can't agree on what happened to it."
Maggie picked up the narrative. "Some people say there never was an heirloom. Some people say it was found and sold years ago. And some of us say that Diarmid snuck back and stole it after the war."
"According to Brendan, Diarmid died at Pearl Harbor," Nancy said.
"That's one theory," Maggie said.
"Mom told us he faked his death," Jenny went on, clearly taken with the romance of the story. "The Army assumed he was dead because so many people were. But he just couldn't face going back after what he saw that day."
"He made up a new name, married a Hawaiian girl, and lived the rest of his life out there," Maggie concluded.
Nancy felt a bit bewildered. "Is there any concrete proof for this theory?" she asked.
Maggie shrugged. "Talk to Mom. She'll tell you."
"I'll do that," Nancy said, and copied down the girls' parents' address.
"One last question, girls. We noticed one of your art textbooks in Brendan's apartment. Do you know why he wanted to borrow it?"
"That was mine," Jenny said. "He didn't really say. He just asked if it had a chapter about early American art and then he grabbed it and promised he'd have it back in the morning." She frowned. "Can I get it back? I really do need it."
"You'll have to talk to the police about that," Nancy said apologetically.
"He wasn't...he wasn't reading it when he died, was he?"
Maggie shot a scornful look at her sister. "Jen. He's not going to haunt your art textbook."
"If anyone could do it, Bren would," Jen said, and Maggie sort of laughed.
"Yeah, you're right."
The girls were starting to look a little misty-eyed. Nancy stood up. "Thanks for your time. Please don't hesitate to call if you think of anything that could be relevant."
"We will," Maggie promised.
****************************************************************
The Rodanski home turned out to be a modern ranch-style home sitting on a modest expanse of very neatly-maintained lawn. Nancy dodged through the beginnings of yet another rain shower and rang the doorbell. The woman who answered the door was tall and blonde and looked exactly like Jenny and Maggie.
I'm definitely in the right place.
"Can I help you?" the woman asked, more curious than wary.
"I hope so," Nancy said, handing over her credentials. "My name is Nancy Drew. I'm working on your nephew's murder case."
"Nancy Drew," the woman repeated. "I've heard of you."
"I've been investigating cases in the area for-"
"Oh, I know! You're the lawyer's daughter," Mrs. Rodanski said, handing back Nancy's ID. "Hannah Gruen works for your family."
"You know Hannah?"
"I went to school with her," Mrs. Rodanski said. "I'm Lana Rodanski. You can call me Lana. Please come on in."
Nancy trailed after her. Lana appeared to be leading her toward the kitchen. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," she said.
"No, nothing that can't wait," Lana said. "I work from home most days, and let me tell you, I'm just about going out of my mind here with no one else to talk to."
"That does sound-" Nancy murmured.
"And another thing. The computer system is always going down. Answer me this, how am I supposed to remotely access the files I need when the system is always down?"
"How frustra-"
"Those IT boys always tell me they're working on it. I know what they're really doing. They're playing games on their phone and laughing at the rest of us. They're all just kids, really. Like you. How long did you say you've been an investigator?"
"I've been working cases since I was 16," Nancy said rapidly. The small sense of victory she felt at managing to complete a sentence was diminished somewhat by the fact that Lana did not seem to be paying any attention. She was rummaging in a cabinet, her back to Nancy.
"Let me make you a hot drink. The weather is just too awful. It makes me glad I do get to stay home. I mean, really, who wants to be out driving in this? I remember when I used to work in New York City, I used to drive to the train station at 4 AM and then ride the train, coming and going in the dark and icy most days too. It's no way to live. Do you take cream and sugar?"
"No, thanks."
Lana pressed a mug of instant coffee into Nancy's hands. "How is Hannah these days? We sort of lost touch after graduation. I can't believe it's been so long, I really can't."
"Hannah is doing very well," Nancy said politely. "She's been like a mother to me for most of my life."
"That sounds just like her," Lana said. "I should give her a call one of these days and catch up."
"Lana," Nancy said firmly, "I need to talk to you about your family history."
"Oh." The garrulous woman seemed, finally, to give Nancy her complete attention. "Well, let's sit here at the table. What do you need to know?"
"I spoke with your daughters this morning, and they told me something very interesting about the family heirloom Brendan was looking for," Nancy said, taking a seat.
"Poor kid. He was never going to find it," Lana said, spooning a great deal of sugar into her own cup.
"That's what Jenny and Maggie told me."
"Let me tell you something about my grandfather," Lana said, waving her spoon for emphasis. "He was no good. Do you know why he left my grandmother so poor? The man couldn't hold a job. He would come home with money now and then and would never tell her where he got it. Whatever that heirloom was, he didn't come by it honestly."
"The girls told me that he came back and took it," Nancy said, taking advantage of a break in Lana's narrative. "Do you have any proof of that?"
"Proof? No," Lana said. "But don't you think the family would have found it years ago, if it were still there? Besides, he was spotted around town after the war. I figure he came back to get it because he needed the money to support his new family."
"Yes, Maggie mentioned he remarried," Nancy said.
Lana nodded. It was plain from the look on her face that she was enjoying telling this story. "Shameful," she said. "Absolutely shameful. He went off and lived his life on a beautiful island while Grandma Mary scraped a living for her two kids back here in River Heights."
"Do you know for a fact that he remarried?"
"I found a letter in my dad's files after he passed away. My daddy was Diarmid Sterling Connolly, Jr., you know. He was the only Diarmid Connolly who was ever a good man. My brother Diarmid is good for nothing, and his son Diarmid is a complete waste of oxygen. It's something in the name, I truly believe that, because his other kids turned out just fine. Except for Brendan being murdered, of course, but that was hardly his fault, the poor thing. He was such a sweet boy." Lana took a sip of her coffee. "But I was telling you about that letter. My father would never hear a word spoken against Grandpa. As far as she was concerned he was a hero who had died at Pearl Harbor. But for some reason he'd held on to this letter an Army friend had written to Grandma, all about how he'd seen Grandpa with his Hawaiian wife and baby. So anyway," Lana concluded, "that's how I know Grandpa skipped town with the heirloom."
It's not definitive proof, Nancy thought, but it's pretty damning. "Have you ever tried to contact the Hawaiian branch of your family?"
"Who knows what name he went by out there?" Lana said dismissively. "Besides, I don't want to stir the pot. Let the past be, that's what I say. Are you going so soon?"
"I'm afraid I must," Nancy said. "Thank you for your time. You've been a big help."
Lana walked her out, talking the whole way, and only released Nancy to her car when a FedEx driver pulled up. Nancy's last sight of the woman was of her talking animatedly to the poor delivery driver, whose only remark had been "Please sign here, ma'am."
"Good luck," Nancy murmured in his direction as she started her car.
Nancy drove back into River Heights slowly, pondering the new information she'd gathered that morning, and pulled into a public parking lot in the town center. The clock read half past noon, and her doctor's appointment was not for several hours. Still feeling thoughtful, she dug her phone out of her purse and sent a quick text to Joe. He was in class until 1:00, but she knew he'd appreciate the update.
Rodanskis had an interesting new piece of the puzzle. Can't wait to talk later. xo
Something was bothering her- some piece of information, half-remembered and flitting around the outskirts of her mind. Nancy sat back and watched the raindrops splash against the glass of her windshield, buttoning her trench coat absently as the interior temperature of the parked car dropped.
"I wish I were sitting on that beach with Bess," she said to herself.
Bess! Of course! That was what she had been trying to remember. Triumphantly, the young detective pulled out her phone again and sent another message.
Bessie, what's the surname of your B&B owners?
There was no immediate reply. Bess was probably not keeping close tabs on her cell phone right now. She knew Myra's caretakers could call the front desk of her bed and breakfast directly if there were an emergency. Nancy didn't begrudge her friend her vacation; but it was with no little impatience that she turned up the message alert volume on her phone and dropped it back into her purse. She sat for a moment, lost in thought; and then, her course of action decided, she stepped out of the car.
I am going to buy an umbrella today, Nancy decided, hopping over a large puddle. Hers had disappeared, as umbrellas invariably do; and though she was only planning to walk a few blocks, she was already getting wetter than she liked.
"Nancy, wait up!" a voice called, and a moment later its owner had fallen into step with her. "Get under my umbrella," he said, holding it out.
"Thanks, Ned." Nancy felt her heart twist, the way it always did when they met: a strange, painful-sweet flutter of remembrance and discomfort. Though they were both in new relationships, and though Ned had finally forgiven her, they had not yet found ease with one another as friends. Nancy was content to let time dull old memories and shape their new course, and so, it seemed, was Ned; but in the meantime, these incidental meetings were always awkward.
Under the umbrella, Ned was looking at her with those brown eyes she knew so well. His face wore a mixture of amusement and concern. "You were obviously never a Boy Scout," he said, and Nancy smiled.
"Never prepared, that's me," she agreed.
"Are you headed in to see your dad?"
"Yes. I'm going to kidnap him for a father-daughter lunch."
"I'm sure he'll enjoy that," Ned said politely.
There was a short pause. Nancy picked up her pace ever-so-slightly. The law firm where Ned and her father worked was only a short walk away. Maybe she could get there before the small talk became too stilted.
"So," Ned said, breaking the silence. "How have you been? How's work? Dangerous, by the looks of things." He evidently hadn't overlooked her bandaged hand. Nancy held it up.
"I'm getting the stitches out today," she said, shrugging. "It wasn't anything big. Work's been great. How about you? How's Emily?"
"Emily got promoted to head librarian at the Mapleton branch," Ned said, looking pleased that Nancy had asked.
"That's wonderful. Tell her I said congratulations."
Another short pause. "I, um, I see Joe at the gym a lot," Ned said finally. He stopped at the door of the law firm to shake the water off his umbrella and fold it up before following Nancy into the lobby. "You two seem to be doing well. I'm glad he decided to pursue a college degree."
Nancy hesitated. Had Ned brought that up on purpose? Was he making a subtle comparison between his and Emily's secure, adult professions and the more adventurous life Nancy and Joe were leading? Surely not. Ned could be spiteful, given enough provocation, but he had never been snobbish.
"Yes," she said finally. "I'm proud of him."
Ned pulled the door open and motioned for her to go ahead while he shook the water from his umbrella and closed it. "It's nice to know you two are out there, keeping the world safe for the rest of us," he said, following her into the lobby.
"Yeah, we're practically superheroes," Nancy said, smiling.
"You need to work on your costume design," Ned joked.
There was another pause. It didn't feel quite so awkward this time. Then Ned reached out and squeezed Nancy's un-injured left hand. "I'll let you get on with your kidnaping. It was nice to see you, Nan."
"Likewise," she told him, really meaning it. "And thanks again for sharing your umbrella."
***************************************************************
As it turned out, there was no need to kidnap anyone. Carson Drew had the largest pizza box Nancy had ever seen sitting open on his desk.
"Feeling a bit peckish today, Dad?" Nancy teased, leaning across the immense pizza to kiss the handsome lawyer's cheek.
"I won a raffle at Sal's Pizzeria!" Carson explained, laughing. "I'd forgotten all about entering my name. You can imagine how surprised I was when Sal himself walked in and put this monstrosity on my desk. I've been giving slices away all day."
"Well, congratulations," Nancy told him. "I'll take some of it off your hands."
"Please, help yourself," he said, gesturing toward the box. "What brings you down here today?"
Nancy grinned. "I was planning to take you out for lunch!"
Carson pushed away the file he had been working on. "Sal saved us a walk in the rain, then. Consider me out to lunch."
"You're sure you're not busy?"
"I always have time for my little girl," Carson said warmly, handing Nancy a napkin. "How is your case going, sweetheart?"
"It's developing nicely," Nancy said. "I interviewed some people today and got some interesting new information. I doubt it's anything that will crack the case, but it's a very colorful piece of the puzzle."
"Well done," Carson said. "And where is your sidekick today?"
Nancy laughed. "Dad, he's not my sidekick. He's out doing separate interviews." Something in her father's expression made her set down her half-eaten slice of pizza and make eye contact.
"Is there something bothering you?" she asked gently.
"Yes," her father said, with his usual forthrightness. "But I'm not sure how to discuss it without offending you."
"I promise I'll hear you out."
Carson sighed. "Allow me to preface this by telling you that I really like Joe and I have absolutely no problem with the way he treats you. He's rough around the edges, but he is a good man."
Nancy nodded. "He is."
"But I worry, sometimes." The lawyer had been fiddling with his wedding ring for some time, and now he drew it off and set it on the desk between them. He touched it gently with one finger. "What your mother and I had- Nan, those were the best years of my life. I love my career. I've loved watching you grow into a young woman. But those first years of marriage, and your birth, they were golden." He looked up again, meeting his daughter's eyes. "I don't want you to miss out on that while you're running all over the world with Joe."
"Are you saying you think he's wrong for me? Or that you think I should ask him to settle down?"
"I don't think I'm saying either of those things," Carson said carefully, toying with the ring. "What I'm asking is, are you happy with your life? I don't feel that I ask you that enough."
Nancy reached out and took her father's hand, feeling the hard shape of the ring between their fingers. "I am happy, Dad. I feel..." she trailed off for a moment, trying to frame her thoughts. "I feel complete," she said, finally. "I love my work. I love Joe. I think we are doing important, useful work together." He still looked tense, so she added, "You know me, Dad. If I were dissatisfied with my life, would I just sit back and allow things to go on the way they were?"
"No," Carson admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Thank you for worrying about me," Nancy told him.
"Every parent wants to see his child settled and happy. I forget sometimes that you have never quite fit the mold."
"I am settled and happy, in my own way. And maybe someday I'll embrace a little domesticity," Nancy said, laughing. She reached for her pizza again. "What brought on this line of thought?"
Carson was still holding his ring in his palm. "Camille and I have been talking about marriage," he said evenly. "And I got to thinking, I'd like to pass this ring down to you. I know you already have your mother's, and maybe you won't ever use this one, but I like to think of the set staying together."
Nancy all but dropped her pizza. "Dad! Really? When are you going to ask her?"
"Fairly soon." Carson looked thoughtful. "We're taking a trip to New York City to catch some shows this weekend. I've been contemplating asking her then."
"This weekend? As in, a few days from now?" Nancy demanded. "Do you have a ring? May I see it? Dad, this is really exciting! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"We've been ships in the night lately," Carson said.
"We have phones," Nancy said, shaking her head at him.
"To be honest, I was a little worried about how you would take the news."
Nancy looked at him. "Mom's been gone a long time. I know she would want you to be happy. And so do I. Camille is a great match for you."
Carson relaxed visibly. "It's good to hear that," he said. He set his ring down with an air of finality and pushed it across the surface of the desk, toward Nancy. "I want you to have this, sweetie."
"Dad. I- I don't know what to say." Nancy picked it up. The simple, worn gold band was still warm from her father's touch. She folded it into her palm and went around the desk to give him a hug. "Thank you."
There were traces of tears on both the Drews' faces when they pulled apart, but there were smiles there, too.
"Now, eat up," Carson said. "I want this pizza out of my office!"