Chapter 10: Dinner and Deductions
The Moonlight Diner was all but deserted. Nancy paused inside the door, automatically assessing the interior. Three exits. No apparent danger. Two waitresses. Three men eating separately at the counter, blue-collar workers on their way home. One large family celebrating a birthday. Teenagers, a whole gaggle of them, wedged into one booth, talking and laughing and texting. And Joe.
"Over here," Joe called, waving from his corner booth. Nancy made her way carefully through the diner, holding her dripping, brand new umbrella close to her body to avoid banging it into any furniture.
"Damn," Joe said, drawing the word out in astonished amusement. "Did you steal that thing from somebody's patio?"
"It's a perfectly normal golf umbrella, thank you very much," Nancy said, sliding into her side of the booth. She wedged the oversized umbrella between the table and the wall, glad to be rid of the thing for a while, and took a grateful sip of the Coke that was already waiting for her.
"You could keep the whole golf cart dry under that thing."
"Joseph, if you continue to mock my umbrella I won't share it with you when we walk back outside. And then you'll be sorry."
"Soggy, yes. Sorry, not so much." Joe flashed her a teasing grin and leaned across the table to give her a kiss. "Hi," he said.
"Hi, yourself. How was your day?"
"Productive," Joe said, reaching for her right hand. "But first things first. Let's see the damage."
"It's ugly," Nancy warned, allowing him to turn the hand over anyway. "Possibly even prize-winningly ugly."
Joe gave an appreciative whistle. "Yeah, that's not pretty." He examined it with interest, gently wiggling her fingers and stroking one of his own fingertips over the scar tissue on Nancy's palm. "Does it hurt?"
"Not really. It just feels tight."
He let her have her hand back. "I think I have some vitamin E capsules left from when I was treating this," he said, gesturing to his bullet-scarred shoulder. "Remind me to dig them up for you."
"Thanks."
"I see your better half has arrived," the waitress said, breezing over to them. "Hi, my name's Nova and it's my pleasure to serve you tonight. As you can see, the joint's not exactly jumpin', so feel free to indulge yourself in any and all high-maintenence behavior your hearts desire." She winked at them and turned to a fresh page in her order pad. She clicked her pen open and poised it over the page. "Can I start you with an app- hold on a sec. I know you. You're Joe Hardy."
Joe blinked. "Nova Bates! Hi! I'm sorry I didn't place you sooner."
"No worries. I sort of took your drink order on the wing," Nova said.
"Nan, Nova is an old classmate," Joe explained. "Nova, this is my girlfriend, Nancy Drew."
"Nice to meet you, Nancy," Nova said. She looked back to Joe. "How is Frank doing? Do y'all still have that brother-detectives gig goin'?"
Joe shook his head. "Frank's a cop now."
"Oh, man, that sucks. You guys were so good together!"
"It worked out fine. I upgraded to Nancy," Joe joked. "She's smarter than me and Frank put together, and a hell of a lot easier on the eyes."
Nova looked back at Nancy, appraising her in a teasing way, and winked again. "Yeah, I think you got a good deal. So listen, I'd love to stay here and talk, but my manager's starting to look pissed. I was about to give you the appetizer spiel, right?"
"I think we already know what we'd like," Nancy said, smiling.
"I'll have a double-chocolate milkshake with Oreo crumbles, sprinkles, hot fudge, and a splash of coffee. With whipped cream and two cherries, please," Joe said. Nova grinned as she jotted it down.
"Okay, that's one Triple Death by Chocolate shake for the overgrown kid here. Nancy?"
"I'd like a mocha caramel shake, please, and a salad."
"Oh, right," Joe said. "I'd like a hamburger, please. Medium rare. And do you want to split some fries?"
"You should," Nova interjected. "We make the best sweet potato fries I've ever tasted."
"Sounds good to me," Nancy said, handing her un-read menu to Nova.
"All right, guys. I'll be back!" Nova intoned, doing a pretty convincing Terminator impression possible for a petite, curly-haired woman. She turned to go.
Nancy looked at Joe, tilting her head slightly. Ask her about Diarmid.
"Nova, wait," Joe said hastily. "Speaking of detective work, we're actually on a case right now. When you have a minute we'd love to ask you some questions about Monday night."
"I get to be interrogated? Awesome!" Nova said. "I'll definitely be back!"
"So," Nancy said, when they were alone again. "Tell me about your interview with Keith."
Joe took a sip of his water. "I was hoping to hear what the Rodanski twins told you that got you so excited."
"Did you learn nothing from Keith?"
He grinned wickedly. "I wouldn't say that."
"Oh, this is torture. Maybe we should do all our investigating jointly from now on." Nancy sighed. "Okay. So, basically, the girls and their mother all told me that Diarmid Connolly had a second family in Hawaii."
"Diarmid the Douche?"
"No, the douche's great-grandfather."
"The one who died at Pearl Harbor?" Joe looked confused for a moment before it dawned on him. "Oh! The dude faked his death, deserted, and shacked up with an island girl."
"Bingo. So now I'm wondering, A, is that true? And B, if so, what bearing does it have on our case?"
"It could be irrelevant," Joe said thoughtfully. "But that's not the way things usually go. I can see a few possible motives there."
Nancy nodded. "Here's another bit of trivia: Bess told me her bed and breakfast owners claim River Heights roots. Could it be possible that they are descended from Diarmid Connolly? Their last name is Cranston, by the way. I checked with Bess earlier."
"What are the odds of another family coming from here? But Bess is going to be pissed if our case gets tangled up with her vacation."
"I know." Nancy leaned forward. "Your turn. What did Keith have to say?"
"Our boy Keith cracked like an egg," Joe said with satisfaction. "He showed me the forum he and Brendan were active on. He says they've been talking about the heirloom forever, trying to narrow down what it could be and what its approximate value might have been, and he made a big post about how Brendan had found the thing."
"So that's why he looked guilty," Nancy said.
"Yup. Basically, he hung up a giant 'Come Rob Us' sign. And now we have to widen our suspect pool to every damn user on that site." Joe was looking less satisfied now.
"Did he know what Brendan found?"
"He was away that weekend, remember? Brendan texted him that it was a set of paintings in an ammo can. But Keith never saw them."
"Not even a photo?"
"Nope. No details, no artists' name. Nothing."
Nancy felt deflated. "Well. That's not useful. Did he know gargoylegrinning?"
"Says he doesn't know anyone's real name, but that username claims to be a professor at a university in Colorado."
"If that's the truth, that amount of distance is a hell of an alibi." Nancy rested her chin in her hands, feeling defeated for the moment. "I was really hoping we'd find out more today."
"Hey, we've got plenty of avenues open," Joe said. They both sat back in silence for a few moments.
"I wonder why the food is taking so long when there's barely anyone here," Joe said.
Nancy checked her watch. "It hasn't been horribly long. You're just impatient for that milkshake." She took another sip of her Coke, letting the caffeine and sugar bolster her flagging energy.
Joe was getting antsy. "Anything else interesting happen today?" he asked, toying with the little dish of sugar packets on the table. "Because I've got nothing. I went to class, did not learn anything new, and then hit the gym."
"Oh, I had an eventful day. I had lunch with Dad, ran into Ned...oh, and I got propositioned while buying my umbrella," Nancy said, shrugging self-deprecatingly.
Joe raised an eyebrow. "Should I worry? Where did you get that behemoth, anyway?"
"Roger's," Nancy mumbled, knowing how he was going to react to that. Roger's Souvenirs and Grocery was a complete dive, avoided by most locals. The place stayed in business by overcharging tourists for their camping supplies and probably, Nancy believed, by carrying on some kind of illegal activity on the side.
"Why the hell did you stop there?"
"It wasn't my first choice. But I'd promised myself I'd buy an umbrella, and then I forgot until after I'd driven most of the way here. So I stopped in, and I checked for Hannah's cookies while I was in there. No luck, by the way. They have two full racks of porn magazines and only one small shelf of baked goods. That place is skeevy."
Joe was looking at her as though she were an exceptionally stupid child. "Nan, seriously. They're notorious for that. Where do you think Tony and I got our first girlie magazines in middle school?"
Nancy's eyes widened, as much in amusement as in surprise. "Seriously? How did I not know this about you?"
"Stay tuned for the shocking truth about Joe Hardy's adolescent indiscretions," Joe intoned, but he had the good grace to blush a little.
"Indiscretions?" Nova echoed, reaching in to place their food on the table. "Don't mind me. Y'all carry on with your conversation."
"You went to school with him," Nancy said. "You must know all about his bad behavior."
"No swapping stories in front of me!" Joe protested.
"We'll talk sometime, Nancy," Nova joked. "Can I bring you anything else?"
"No, thank you. Everything looks delicious," Nancy told her. She waited for the girl to get out of earshot, then leaned in. This was too good to let go. "You and Tony were the bad ones? Why am I not surprised?"
"Chet's always been as straight-arrow as they come, and Frank has too much personal dignity for stuff like that. Phil and Biff had some, but they wouldn't admit it. Tony and I decided one afternoon that we'd just swagger in there like we had every right to and find out what the big deal was." Joe laughed a little.
"And did you find out what the big deal was?"
"You tell me, Drew."
Heat smoldered between them. Nancy looked at him through lowered lashes, her lips curving into her most feline smile. "I think I like your curiosity."
Joe grinned. "And I think you never finished telling me what happened."
What had happened was that the sullen young man stocking shelves at a glacier's pace had stopped work altogether to look her up and down, slowly and brazenly. He had taken a step closer, hitched his thumbs into his belt loops, and said "You wanna go for a ride, baby? And I don't mean in my car." Nancy had ignored this. Instead of backing off, the guy had come even closer, grabbed the sleeve of her coat, and said "Too good for me? You think I ain't worth your time?" At which point Nancy had very firmly twisted out of his grasp, paid for her umbrella, and got out of there.
Joe listened to this narrative, scowling. "Bastard," he said at the end of it. "You should have showed him a few of the tricks George taught you."
"I didn't want it to escalate," Nancy said, shrugging.
"I guess I sort of had a confrontation of my own," Joe told her. He took a long sip of his shake, his eyes closing in pleasure. "Mm. Nan, try this."
"I thought only I could put that look on your face," Nancy teased; but she leaned forward and caught his straw in her mouth anyway. Joe watched her face as she took a sip.
"Good, right?"
"So good," she said fervently, pushing the glass gently back toward him. "What kind of confrontation, Joe?"
"Oh, right. I stopped by to drop off the lid to Mom's casserole dish and Aunt Gertrude gave me quite the lecture."
"About returning bakeware?"
"No, about 'sowing my wild oats with that Drew girl.' "
"Oh." Nancy took a bite of her salad and chewed slowly, processing this. "Wild oats, eh?"
"Wild oats," Joe repeated, shrugging. "I didn't know anyone actually still used that phrase."
"My dad had a similar talk with me at lunch."
"He told you to quit screwing around with me?"
"Sort of, but in more polite terms," Nancy said. "He didn't tell me to break up with you. He just wanted to know if I was okay with not being settled down already." Nancy picked up a fry and took a bite. "Dad is getting re-married."
Joe looked at her with his straw in his mouth. He released it, licking his lips. "He proposed to Camille?"
"He's going to. Maybe this weekend."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm not a little kid, Joe. I understand. It's been years since Mom died."
Joe reached across the table to touch her hand. "Does your inner 8-year-old understand, though? I mean, we're all still a little kid somewhere in there."
Nancy sighed. "Okay, yeah, it does feel a little unsettling. It's...it feels like the end of an era. Like now I am truly not a kid anymore. It's a huge change. But I like Camille, and I really am happy for them."
"Do you think Hannah will stop working for your dad?"
Now Nancy looked horrified. "Joe, no! Don't even say that. Hannah is part of the family." She shook her head firmly, refusing to even consider the idea of Hannah leaving.
"Dad gave me his wedding ring," she said, changing the subject. "To go with my mom's set."
Oddly, Joe laughed.
"Why is that funny?"
"It's not," Joe said, sobering. "I'm not laughing at your dad. I'm laughing because Mom pulled me aside after dinner the other night and gave me a ring, too. We're going to end up with more rings than fingers to wear them on at this rate."
"Are you starting to feel pressured? I'm starting to feel pressured," Nancy joked. Joe didn't look as amused.
"Nan, I can't stand avoidable drama. I'm going to be completely up-front with you, on the understanding that you're not going to take it the wrong way. I'm not ready to get married." He looked at her. "Your turn."
Nancy didn't hesitate. "Me neither. I mean, we jumped into this relationship really fast, and I think it's going well, but that doesn't mean we need to keep barging forward."
Joe let out a big sigh. "Do you know how much I love you?"
"Enough not to propose!" Nancy said, laughing, and Joe pulled her into a happy bear hug across the table.
Nova slid into the booth next to Nancy as they were finishing up their meal.
"Ready to be interrogated?" Nancy asked lightly.
"Wait, wait, let me get into character." Nova was trying not to laugh. She bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling, clearing her face; then she had a fit of giggles, took a deep breath, tried again, and came back straight-faced and talking like a Dick Tracy villain.
"Okay, coppers, do yer worst. I ain't no canary. I ain't gonna sing," she growled.
"Look here, Bates. You're going to cooperate, see?" Joe drawled at her, puffing an imaginary cigarette. "The District Attorney might just see a way to reduce your sentence if you help us catch our crook."
"Gee," Nova scoffed. "Thanks, bud. Six months less scrubbin' toilets at this joint? You're too kind." She broke out into giggles again. "Okay, guys, what do you need to know?"
"Tell me if these people sound familiar," Nancy said, describing Diarmid and Allie.
"Oh, yeah. They're regulars. We call them Beauty and the Beast." Nova, interested now, had completely dropped the acting. "What'd they do?"
"I'm afraid we can't discuss that. Were they here Monday night?"
"Am I their alibi? That's a lot of power!" Nova spoke lightly, but she took a few minutes to think before she spoke again. "I was working that shift, but they weren't here. And I'd remember, because they're lousy tippers and Beauty always complains about the Elvis music. Plus, the Beast? He used to come in alone or with guy friends, and he always tried to grope all the waitresses. We used to flip coins to see who had to wait his table. But since he got together with Beauty he hasn't even glanced at me. He is completely infatuated with her."
"I'd say that feeling is not mutual," Joe muttered, and Nancy rolled her eyes. Nova looked interested.
"Why's that?"
"She threw herself at Joe. Practically offered herself up on a silver platter," Nancy said. "And her boyfriend didn't seem to notice at all."
"He's not the brightest bulb in the chandelier," Nova said. "Is that all you needed to know?"
"That's it. You've been really helpful."
"Well. I was hoping for something a little more spectacular. But that was pretty cool." Nova slid out of the booth. "Nice meeting you, Nancy, and good to see you again, Joe. Stop in again sometime and tell me how the case went!"
"Will do," Joe promised.
Their meal was just about done. Nancy finished up her shake and dug in her purse for cash for Nova's tip.
"I've got this," Joe said, tossing a bill down. Nancy added hers on top.
"I think she earned it," she said. "Whose turn is it to get the bill? I think it's mine."
They settled up and headed out, hand-in-hand. Joe gallantly took Nancy's unwieldy umbrella and escorted her out into the parking lot.
"Are you coming over tonight?" he asked. "We can go over the case again."
Nancy hesitated. "I don't want to wear out my welcome."
"You're not a guest, Nan. You belong. Plus, we really could use a brainstorming session."
"I'll come over, then. But it's still pretty early. I think we should make a couple stops first."
"You want to talk to The Douche," Joe guessed immediately.
"Sorry...yeah. And I need to update Faith."
"Fine. But I'm stopping home first to put on my entire skiing outfit. I'm not in the mood to be ogled."
"That's a shame," Nancy said, running her eyes up his body. "I really enjoy ogling you."
"This body is an ogle-free zone," Joe said, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her. He grinned. "You can touch, but don't look."
Nancy slid her hands into the back pockets of his jeans and tipped her head up to look at his face. "Here's an idea. Why don't you update Faith, and I'll visit Diarmid?"
He took advantage of her angled face to give her a kiss. "You'd do that for me?"
"Just for you."
"I accept." He kissed her again, lightly. "See you at home, then. Drive safe."
***********************************************************
Diarmid opened his apartment door when Nancy knocked and just stood there, staring blankly at her. He had a bowl of noodles in one hand and was wearing a t-shirt with the slogan "Mile High Club Member."
"I'm Nancy Drew," Nancy said, feeling uncomfortable already. "The private investigator? May I ask you a few questions?"
Diarmid scratched his chest. "Babe, that detective is here!" he bellowed over his shoulder.
"Let him in!" Allie yelled back. Nancy could hear gunshots and yelling coming from the tv.
"It's the chick!" Diarmid told her, but he stepped back and let Nancy in anyway. She followed him into a dingy-looking living room, where he parked himself on the couch next to Allie and resumed eating his noodles and watching his show. Allie glanced over.
"Oh. It's just you," she said, losing interest. Her head swiveled back toward the tv set as well.
Nancy cleared her throat. "Would you mind turning that off for a minute? I just have a few questions."
"Yeah, I would mind," Diarmid said, turning up the volume a few clicks.
"We checked out your story, and the staff at the Moonlight don't remember you being there Monday night," Nancy said loudly. "What are you trying to cover up?"
Allie looked at her, her face a study in disdain. "So we forgot what night we went there. Not everything has some deeper meaning."
"Can you tell me where you really were?"
Allie thought for a moment. "I don't know."
Nancy sighed, then decided to try a new line of questioning. "Aholoka is a Hawaiian name, isn't it?"
"For your information, I was born in Delaware. And you can't ask stuff like that. Is this racial profiling?" Allie's voice was becoming shriller by the second. "Baby, tell this racist bitch to get out of here!"
Diarmid set his bowl down on the floor and stood up, slowly and menacingly. "Get out, bitch," he said.
Nancy left.
*********************************************************
Despite the three vehicles already parked in the driveway, the Hardys' apartment was dark. Nancy parked her roadster next to Joe's truck and paused, looking at the dark windows and contemplating her next move. Had they all gone to sleep? Was there a more sinister explanation? Her phone chimed, suddenly, and she dug it out of her bag to take a look.
It was a text from Joe. Heads up, F & C are "watching a movie" in the living room.
Nancy laughed, her fears dissipating immediately. Joe must be holed up in his bedroom, then. She began heading for the front door but paused, a new idea taking shape...
****************************************
"Seriously, Nan? You'd rather climb in my bedroom window than interrupt a very juvenile makeout session?"
Nancy wiped her grimy hands with a tissue, shrugged off her coat, and started to shimmy out of her dirty jeans. Getting to Joe's window had involved climbing a tree and a good bit of clambering along a ledge. She was not only wet, but covered in flecks of tree bark and dirt. "I wanted to see if I could do it. And Frank and Callie deserve an uninterrupted evening to themselves."
"Well, you could have marched through with a brass band," Joe told her. "They didn't even look up when I came in, and I was not quiet." He was sitting on his bed, guitar in his hands. He put it aside and watched her pull on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.
Nancy raised an eyebrow. "Joe? You look upset."
"I owe you an apology."
"What terrible crime did you commit in the last two hours?"
He didn't smile. "I almost got broadsided on my way home. Some idiot ran a red light."
Nancy gasped. "That's scary, but it's nothing you need to apologize for."
"No, you don't get it. I wasn't doing anything dangerous. I was just driving home from dinner with my girlfriend, and I almost died. And it hit me again how stupid I was to worry about you doing your job. Anything can happen to anybody at any time. And I'm sorry."
Nancy crawled onto the bed and wrapped her arms around him, feeling more shaken than she wanted to let on by the near-miss and by his unwonted solemnity. So she just tucked her head beneath his chin and held on tight to mask the trembling in her body. "I'm so glad you're okay."
"Me, too." He squeezed her tight for a long moment before pulling away. The light in his eyes was back.
"Ready to get to work?"
"Absolutely," Nancy said, sitting up.
"I liberated a few things from the kitchen in case they stay out there all night." Joe pointed toward his desk, which was serving as a temporary snack table. He had acquired a bag of chips, some oranges, Nancy's stash of Swedish Fish, and two bottles: one of Coke, and one of whiskey.
"Well done, Private," Nancy said, sliding out of bed to grab the chips. "I thought you said they didn't notice when you came in, though? So it's not like we're really stuck in here."
"That was then," Joe said darkly. "Who knows what they're doing out there now? At this point it's less about interrupting them and more about protecting ourselves from seeing things we don't want to see."
"Got it," Nancy said, laughing. "I think it's sweet, though. They needed an evening like this."
"Oh, sure, it's really sweet that they're doing filthy things to each other on the couch we all sit on," Joe grumbled.
"We've done some pretty filthy things on that couch," Nancy pointed out.
Joe grinned. "Yeah, I guess." His expression turned wicked. "They're moving out soon. We'll be able to do filthy things wherever we want, whenever we want."
Nancy tossed a chip at him. "What can we possibly do that we don't do already? All that's going to change is the likelihood of getting walked in on."
"Oh, come on, Nan. Where's your imagination?"
"I'll put it to work," Nancy promised, getting up to pour them each a drink. Joe scooted back up against the headboard and pulled his guitar into his lap. He liked to play while he was thinking, sometimes; not really playing songs, but strumming chords and plucking brief bits of tunes as a sort of background to his mental processes. It didn't bother Nancy. She had her own process; she liked to doodle and make notes while she thought. So she settled into his bedroom chair with a notepad and a pen, and he reclined with his guitar, and they began tossing ideas back and forth.
"How is Faith doing?" Nancy asked, taking a sip of her Jack and Coke.
"She's all right. She's a strong girl. How did things go with Diarmid?"
Nancy frowned. "I can't tell if they're hiding something, or just plain stupid." She summed up her visit in a few brief sentences.
"I should've gone with you," Joe said. "I'm sorry."
"There's something else. This has been bugging me since Faith took us to see Brendan's apartment," Nancy said. "I feel like there was something out of place there, and I can't put my finger on exactly what it was."
"We can go take another look," Joe said, adjusting a tuning peg.
"That might be a good idea." There was silence for a few minutes; both Nancy and Joe were lost in their own thoughts.
"It's not a great suspect list," Nancy said finally, looking over her notes. "Faith is probably clear. I'd say Jenny is probably clear too. Maggie...Maggie seemed sharper, and she did return to campus that night, so we'll call her a really tentative maybe?"
Joe nodded. "Diarmid and Allie go in that category too."
"You think so?"
"Something's not right about them."
"Okay." Nancy made a few annotations to her page. "Then there's Keith."
"Keith doesn't have the guts," Joe said. "He might have been in on a theft, but not a murder."
"But from the looks of things, the murder was not premeditated," Nancy pointed out.
"True."
Nancy sighed. "This whole Hawaii story is throwing me off. Would a Hawaiian relative come all the way out here on the off-chance that Brendan had found the heirloom, steal it, and kill him?"
"They might if it were really valuable."
"How would they know, though?"
Joe pondered. "They'd have to be a forum member."
"So we're back to that. How are we supposed to investigate every singe username on that site? There are thousands!"
Joe set down his guitar and reached for his laptop. "We can start by browsing through, looking for patterns in posts and who has the most to say in the relevant topics." He patted the bed next to him. "Come on up. And bring me an orange, please?"
"Catch," Nancy said, tossing him one. She gathered up her drink and her notebook and joined him on the bed to alternately steal bites of his orange and help browse the forum. She had been right: it was going to take a lot of work to sift through all the activity there.
Joe pushed the computer off his lap, finally, and rolled his shoulders to ease their stiffness. "Nan. It's 2 AM."
"Are you serious?" Nancy sat up, too, combing her hair back from her face.
"Ready to call it a night?"
"I guess so."
Joe cupped her face with his hand, rough and tender and compassionate all at once. "We got some good work done tonight. You can rest."
"I want to do more," Nancy told him.
"I know. I get it." He looked around for a moment, taking in their empty glasses on his nightstand, the orange peels and the chip bag, the guitar and the laptop and Nancy's notebook and pen; and finally he scooped it all up and deposited the whole mess on the desk.
"I'll take care of it in the morning."
Nancy groaned. "We were supposed to go running with Frank in the morning."
"Fuck." He flopped back down next to her, reaching for his phone. "I'll set an alarm. Why does he always want to go out so early on his day off?"
Nancy didn't reply. She was already asleep. Joe tugged the blankets up over them both and curled around her, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck before drifting off himself.