Chapter 14: Closing In

"Nancy."

With her eyes still firmly closed, the young woman shook her head. "Nancy's not home," she mumbled, hoping whoever it was would go away. They didn't. The mattress dipped as somebody sat down on the edge of the bed, and a gentle hand reached over to brush the tangle of titian hair off her face.

"I hate you wake you, sweetie, but you need to eat and drink. I brought up a tray."

"Oh, it's you," Nancy said blearily, finally awake enough to identify Hannah's voice. She rolled onto her side, groaning when the movement awoke every outraged muscle in her body, and forced her eyes open. Hannah was smiling down at her, her kind face haloed in bright sunlight.

"How late is it?"

"It's a few minutes past 10," Hannah said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a rodeo clown who didn't run fast enough." Nancy eased herself gingerly to a sitting position against her headboard.

"The second day is always worse," Hannah said sympathetically. "Are you lightheaded?"

"Not really. I've always recovered fast from giving blood."

"I wish you'd stop comparing this to a blood drive," Hannah scolded. "You need to take what happened seriously."

"I am taking it seriously. I'm seriously going to catch the guy."

Hannah sighed. "My stubborn girl. All right." She stood. "I'm going downstairs to finish my morning chores. You eat up your breakfast, and then we'll see about getting you a nice hot shower to loosen up those muscles."

"That does sound good." Nancy made an exploratory circle with her head, feeling the tightness in her neck and shoulder muscles. It wasn't the worst she had ever felt, but it was still not great.

The housekeeper paused in the doorway. "Oh, I almost forgot. Joe left a few hours ago, but he said to tell you he'd be back around noon."

A hazy memory began to surface. "Was he here, last night?"

Hannah nodded. "I found him asleep on the couch and sent him up."

"So I wasn't imagining that." Nancy flexed her fingers. They were a little stiff, but they all worked. "Was I also not imagining Dad poking his head in to say goodbye earlier? I'm not sure I gave him a coherent response."

"He left to pick Camille up at 5:30. He said you were pretty out of it." Hannah smiled. "Enough chatter, Nan. Eat up."

"Thanks, Hannah. You're a treasure."

"Oh, I know it," Hannah called over her shoulder.

Left alone, Nancy ate as much as she could of Hannah's big breakfast. By the time she was done, her head had stopped pounding and her body was beginning to feel like her own again. She slid carefully out of bed and allowed herself one longing look at the shower before pulling on a robe and slippers, brushing her teeth, and combing her hair. There was no time to waste pampering herself with hot water, no matter how good it would feel. The day was practically half over, and Nancy's sense of urgency was rising. Grabbing her breakfast tray, she headed downstairs.

"Nancy Drew, you stay right where you are," Hannah called from below. She hurried up and put a hand lightly under Nancy's elbow as if leading a blind person.

"Hannah, I'm all right," Nancy assured her.

"It's just a precaution," Hannah said. "Nobody is falling down these stairs on my watch. Now you come on into the living room. I set up a little nest for you." She led Nancy straight to the couch. Nancy was beginning to dislike that couch.

"I feel much better," she protested, knowing her words were futile.

"I don't care if you feel up to dancing a jig," Hannah said. "You're going to rest today. Pretend you're Hercule Poirot and put your brain to work instead of rushing all over town, getting into altercations with masked men."

"I don't get into altercations every-" Nancy started, and stopped herself. Arguing, she knew from long experience, would get her nowhere. And she also knew, however much she might like to deny it, that pushing herself too soon would only lengthen her recovery time. "Okay. Fine. I'll employ the little grey cells."

"Good girl. Now sit, and please let me know if you need anything."

Nancy looked around. Hannah had set up a very well-appointed "little nest." Close to hand were a large glass of water, a basket of snacks, her notebook, her phone and charger, and her laptop. "Thanks, Hannah. I can't imagine what else I could need."

Once left alone, Nancy's first task was to turn on her phone and deal with the flood of messages which had arrived since the previous afternoon. It seemed as though everyone she had ever met had had something to say about her encounter. Even Bess had interrupted her vacation to launch a series of messages both berating Nancy for getting herself hurt and expressing concern for her.

Nancy fired off a quick text- not to Bess, but to the vociferous blonde's cousin. George, you rat.

You're alive! George sent back, following it up with What'd I do now?

Told Bess.

Nancy's phone rang: George, getting impatient with spelling out the conversation. "Nan!" she said. "You know I had to tell her. She's family. She could make my holidays miserable for the next ten years if she found out I kept that from her."

"Fair enough."

"Are you doing all right? Need me to do anything?"

"I think I'm okay, George. Thanks, though."

"I figured between Hannah and Joe you'd be covered." George shifted the phone to her other ear. Nancy could hear the faint shuffling sound. "So. Since you're okay, I guess I can bitch at you a little. I was going to ask you to watch Myra for me tomorrow, and now I have to find a different victim."

Nancy laughed. "I'm sorry my attempted murder inconvenienced you."

"It's not just this time, Drew. Don't think I haven't noticed how often you seem to get these convenient injuries. Is your whole life a lie fabricated to help you avoid helping others?"

"You figured it out, George. I confess."

George dropped her flippant tone. "Seriously, I'm glad you're okay."

"I owe it all to you and your years of self defense training." Nancy paused. "Actually," she said thoughtfully, "I don't see why I can't babysit tomorrow. What time?"

"Aw, no. No way. I was just giving you a hard time."

"I'm serious," Nancy said. "Myra's a good kid. Drop her off and we can watch cartoons together for a few hours if that's all I'm up for."

"It's tomorrow night. I have a date with Regan," George said reluctantly. "I can cancel. He'll understand."

"George, no! You guys never get to see each other. I can definitely handle an evening with Myra."

"Nance, I owe you a big one."

"Since when do we keep score?"

"I know." George shifted her phone again. "Hey, how's the case going?"

Nancy filled George in on their progress and their plan for trapping the murderer. "Do you think Kate will mind being impersonated?"she concluded.

"I doubt it. Kate's cool. But I'll give her a heads up."

Nancy had been idly browsing "The Homefront" during their conversation, noticing that activity on Keith's account had all but stopped, while Chet's account had been very busy. Good old reliable Chet.
"Thanks, George. Do you think she- " Nancy broke off suddenly. A message icon had just popped up on her screen. "Hey, George, I've got to go. I just got a message from a suspect!"

"Sweet! All right. See you tomorrow, then."

"I'll be here," Nancy confirmed. She set her phone aside and eagerly clicked on the new message.

From: gargoylegrinning
To: NJPI

Hi. Regarding your message, I'm not comfortable discussing real-life matters over the internet.
Regards,
gargoylegrinning

"Dammit," Nancy breathed, fingers fumbling over each other in her haste to send a reply message before gargoylegrinning went offline.

From: NJPI
To: gargoylegrinning

I appreciate your discretion. I am a private investigator looking into Brendan Connolly's murder- kidanachronism on this site. It would be a big help if you would answer my questions.

Nancy

From: gargoylegrinning
To: NJPI

With all due respect- no, thank you. If you contact me again, I will report you.

Nancy swore softly. She paused, thought hard, and rattled off one last message: her full name, web site, and personal phone number. As an afterthought she added "I promise I'm not a scam. Google me," and hit send.

Several minutes ticked by. Nancy fidgeted impatiently. The instant her phone rang, she pounced on it.

"Nancy Drew speaking."

The voice on the other end was crisp and businesslike. "This is Sandra Ramirez. We were just...conversing."

"Are you gargoylegrinning?"

"In my free time." There was a hint of a smile in the voice now. Nancy smiled back.

"Thanks for giving me a chance. I appreciate this."

"I decided to call your bluff. Google says you're real." Sandra paused. "Is Brendan...is he really dead?"

"I'm afraid so."

Another pause. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Did you know Brendan personally?"

"I taught at River Heights Community College for several years before moving away. Brendan took one of my freshman level history courses and we connected over our mutual interest in the 1940s." Sandra sighed. "May I ask how you came to contact me?"

"We found your username jotted on a scrap of paper at the crime scene," Nancy said. "Brendan had written 'Talk to gargoylegrinning.' It was probably the last thing he did."

"Oh...oh, good heavens. Talk to me about what?"

"We assume about an artifact he had recently discovered."

"Don't tell me he found the mythical family treasure!" Sandra said, sounding very taken aback.

"It would appear that he did. You knew about that?"

"Yes. He confided in me. What...what was it?"

"A set of paintings. That's all the intel I have on it. They were stolen when he was murdered."

"That poor boy," the professor murmured. "He didn't deserve that. Oh, the poor boy."

"If he had lived to talk to you, what's your best guess as to what it would have been about?"

"The paintings," Sandra said immediately. "He would have wondered what their historical significance was, and possibly their monetary value. This treasure hunt of his was supposed to end in...well, metaphorically, a good-sized pot of gold. His great-something grandfather, I think, had hidden it as a sort of rainy day fund for his wife in the event he did not return from the war."

"You seem to have been very close with him," Nancy remarked, keeping her voice neutral.

"He looked up to me as...as an advisor. That's all the relationship was. Not that it would be any of your business, had it been otherwise."

"Ma'am, I did not suggest it had been."

"It's...it's a sensitive thing, student-teacher relations. In this day and age, anyhow," Sandra said wearily.

"I understand."

"There is one other thing."

"What's that?"

"Brendan was always a bit nervous that the other half of his family was after the inheritance. There was a story about desertion, and a second branch of the family..."

"I'm familiar with it," Nancy assured her.

"I thought it was paranoia. Now...well..."

"I don't think his instinct was too far off."

"Is...is that who killed him? His own family?"

"That's how things seem to be shaping up," Nancy told her.

"That's horrible." Sandra's voice wavered for a moment before she pulled herself together. "I wish you the best of luck in tracking down whoever did this."

"Thank you so much for your time. Please call me anytime if you think of something relevant, or if you discover any new information."

"I certainly will do so," Sandra said.

"Well, that takes care of the convenient internet stranger. The family motive is looking stronger all the time," Nancy muttered to herself as she once more set her phone aside. Thinking better of it, she reached for the charger Hannah had plugged in and clicked it into place.

"Then there's still Keith," she reminded herself. She couldn't seem to get him eliminated from suspicion. He'd had a front-row seat to Brendan's family drama, or at least Brendan's suspicions of family drama, and could easily have stepped in and taken the opportunity for himself. But then, that didn't fit her theory that the man in the case was working for someone, possibly a woman. She couldn't help thinking of Diarmid and Allie. If only she had anything, any shred of evidence, connecting Allie with the Connolly family!

Nancy gave herself over to research and pondering, not even noticing the passage of time. She was so lost in thought that when Hannah called her for lunch, she jumped.

"Welcome back to earth, Drew," Joe said.

"How long have you been standing there?" Nancy asked, frowning at him.

Her boyfriend, who had been leaning casually against the door frame, uncrossed his arms and grinned at her. "A few seconds. I just have really good timing."

"Is that you, Joe? Come have some lunch!" Hannah called from the kitchen.

"Yes, ma'am!" Joe called back automatically; but his eyes were on Nancy. He crossed the living room to give her a kiss.

"You look-"

Nancy looked at him inquisitively. "Yes?"

"Sorry. My foot-in-mouth proximity alert went off."

"How do I look, Joseph?" Nancy demanded, laughing.

"As radiant as the sunrise," he said gallantly, folding her blanket for her while she stacked her notebook and pen on top of her computer.

"And about as colorful?" Nancy added.

"Hey, I didn't say it."

"It's okay. I did look in a mirror today."

Joe shrugged. "All right, then I'll say it. That bruise on your face is kind of spectacular."

"Let's go back to the extravagant flattery," Nancy said. "I liked that."

"All right, my many-hued maiden. Shall we adjourn to the kitchen?" Joe said, offering Nancy his arm.

"Many-hued maiden? Seriously?"

"Would you rather I called you my black-and-blue beloved?"

"That's it. You'd better get in the kitchen before I make you black-and-blue!" Nancy threatened, curling her fingers into a loose fist. Joe dodged nimbly into the kitchen ahead of her and ducked behind Hannah.

"What on earth are you kids doing?" the housekeeper exclaimed.

"Nancy's picking on me," Joe said. "Can I have a cookie?"

Hannah grabbed him by the arm and gave him a gentle push toward the kitchen table. "I suppose Nancy's going to tell me you started it," she said.

"Well, he did," Nancy said, sticking her tongue out at Joe.

"And here I was thinking we'd all outgrown this stage," Hannah grumbled, setting a stack of plates on the table. Joe jumped up to get silverware for everyone.

"Sorry, Hannah," he said contritely.

"You're just buttering me up so I give you that cookie. I know your game, Joe Hardy," Hannah scolded, her eyes twinkling.

"Aw, shucks," Joe said, sliding back into his seat.

"Help yourselves, children. We don't stand on formality at lunchtime," Hannah said, gesturing toward the casserole dish in the center of the table. "I'll get us some drinks."

"I'm sorry I slept through you leaving this morning," Nancy told Joe as he dished up helpings of Hannah's baked ziti.

"I was hoping you would. You needed the rest."

Hannah returned with glasses and a pitcher of water. "I apologize about this morning, Joe. I should have warned Carson I sent you upstairs."

Nancy's eyes widened. "Was Dad angry?"

"He didn't go for a shotgun or anything, but he definitely used a few words I didn't think he knew," Joe said, looking amused.

"Oh, no!" Nancy groaned.

"It wasn't as bad as that. He was a little taken aback, that's all," Hannah interjected. "I explained matters to him. No guest of ours is sleeping on the furniture while I'm still in charge around here."

"He calmed down pretty fast. I think he stopped being outraged about his daughter's honor when he noticed I'd been sleeping with my jeans on." Joe shrugged. He was clearly unfazed by the experience.

"Well, that's unpleasant," Nancy said.

"By the time he and Camille get back, he won't even remember it," Hannah assured her. "On a different note, have you managed to find any of those Cherry Bakewells?"

"No," Nancy said. "But not for lack of trying. Have you?"

"No. I even called a few friends and asked them to keep an eye out."

"We'll find some, Hannah. Don't worry."

"I certainly hope so, dear," Hannah said, though she didn't sound convinced. "This is my last Thanksgiving here as your full-time housekeeper, you know, and I wanted it to be perfect."

"But you'll be here for more Thanksgivings!" Nancy said immediately. "Don't you start talking like you're moving across the world."

"I know, dear, but it's going to be a little different. I won't necessarily be doing all the cooking. Maybe you'll even have your own home next year and will want to start hosting the holiday."

Nancy narrowed her eyes at Hannah, who looked back at her with an expression much too innocent to be believed. Nancy shook her head. "I doubt that," she said lightly.

Fortunately, Joe didn't seem to have picked up on Hannah's insinuation. "This is delicious, Hannah," he said.

"Save room for dessert," Hannah told him. "I made biscotti."

"Chocolate biscotti?" Nancy asked hopefully.

"Just for you," Hannah said.

A little while later, a very well-fed team of detectives returned to what Nancy was beginning to think of as the inevitable couch. Joe grabbed Nancy's notebook and flipped through it, refreshing the facts of the case in his memory.

"Still a jumble," he complained.

"Where did you go this morning?" Nancy asked.

"I did a bit of flirting with the clerk at the post office," Joe said, handing her notebook back. "Irene. Nice lady. Has two boys in high school and likes geraniums."

"That's all very fascinating," Nancy said dryly. "Did you get her number?"

"Don't be jealous, Drew." Joe waited for her to finish rolling her eyes and continued. "According to Irene, the PO box we're interested in was rented out a few months ago to a college kid."

"Brendan?"

"I don't think so. From her description, it sounded more like Keith."

"This is the most irritating case. I was pretty sure I'd just eliminated him." Nancy filled Joe in on her conversation with Sandra.

"Yeah, that doesn't add up. Unless Faith hired Keith to steal the heirloom," Joe pointed out.

"Then why would she go out of her way to bring us into this?"

Joe shrugged. "I've seen it before. The criminal underworld is full of cocky sons-of-bitches."

"Maybe in an Agatha Christie novel," Nancy scoffed, reaching for an afghan to pull over her chilly feet.

"Allie and Diarmid are still not answering my calls," Joe went on. "It's not looking good for any of these people. Maybe it's one massive conspiracy."

"What does your gut say?"

"Nada," Joe said glumly. "Well, right now it's saying Hannah's ziti was delicious."

"That gets us nowhere."

"At least we're not hungry and stuck. We can work with being well-fed and stuck. What about your instincts?"

"At the risk of sounding jealous again, my money is on Allie," Nancy said slowly. "The Hawaii thing is too big of a coincidence, and Diarmid definitely has a short fuse." She ticked their other suspects off on her fingers. "Faith wouldn't have called us in if she were guilty. Maggie is a longshot. Keith could have stolen the paintings any time from his own apartment; why follow Brendan to the library?"

"I don't like Diarmid for it. Killing his own brother?" Joe made a face. "That's a special kind of fucked up. Not to mention, that would make Diarmid and Allie some kind of cousins."

"I don't think that would bother him," Nancy said.

Joe leaned in, his face serious. "You know what I think? I think we'd better get our forged artifact scheme in motion, fast. I'd like to call Callie in a while and ask her if she's up for some painting."

"I agree," Nancy said fervently. "One other thing. I was poking around on the forum this morning and I managed to get into Brendan's account. He had one username blocked from contacting him."

"Do you think that's significant?" Joe asked. "I have some people blocked on Facebook, but all it means is I think they're obnoxious."

"Why not just unfriend them?" Nancy asked, distracted, for the moment, by the seemingly irrational arrangement.

"Because they're relatives, and I don't want to cause drama." Joe waved a hand dismissively. "Not important. Who does Brendan have blocked?"

"The profile has its location set to Hawaii," she said. "I couldn't dig up their past interactions, but maybe you can."

"Yeah, let me give it a try," Joe said, pulling the laptop toward himself.

"I'm going to give Faith a call while you do that. I'd like to ask her if she knows anything about Allie."

The conversation was brief and unsatisfying. Joe glanced over, raising an eyebrow, when he heard her put the phone down. Nancy shook her head.

"She's hiding something. She's acting very strange."

"It's too soon to say I told you so, but...I told you so."

"Too soon, Hardy. Shut your smug mouth."

"What would you rather have me do with my mouth?" Joe leaned closer, planting his palms on either side of Nancy, and captured her lips with a demanding kiss. Despite her aching muscles, Nancy found herself responding, kissing him back with equal urgency and wrapping her arms around him to pull him closer.

Joe pulled away first. "We can't," he said.

"Hannah left to run some errands," Nancy said, tracing his lips gently with her fingertip. "Come upstairs."

He caught her wandering finger gently between his teeth and brushed it with his tongue before releasing it. "Nan, don't tempt me."

Nancy pressed another finger to his lips to be kissed. "Says the guy who just asked me what I'd like him to do with his mouth."

"I know. I thought we could make out a little without wanting more." He caught her hand with his own and gently turned it so he could kiss her palm.

"We can take it slow."

Joe's gaze drifted across her face, skimming over the bruises on her cheekbone and chin, and Nancy knew he was visualizing all the other bruises her clothing hid from view. "You have brand new stitches, babe, and lying very still on your back has never been your strong suit. Let's wait a few days."

Nancy laughed despite her disappointment. "You're right."

"Just like I was right about Faith?"

"Bastard." Nancy dragged him down for one last kiss, nipping at his lower lip to make him fight back; and it was at that moment that Frank and Callie walked in.

"Do you two ever do any actual work?" Frank demanded, seating himself in Hannah's chair.

"Kissing stimulates the brain cells," Joe retorted.

"I doubt that very much," Frank said dryly.

Callie, who had lingered in the entryway to take off her boots, now came across the room to wedge herself onto the couch between Joe and Nancy. "Hi, lovebirds," she said, ruffling Joe's hair and wrapping Nancy in a careful hug. "Honey, you look so much better than you did last time I saw you."

"That's not saying much, considering last time you saw me I was bleeding and covered in mud," Nancy joked.

"It's not funny!" Callie told her. "I will never understand detectives. There's something misfiring in your brains."

"I'm sorry, Cal. And thank you again. The nurse told me you probably saved me from needing a transfusion, or worse. You were definitely my guardian angel yesterday."

"Some angel," Callie scoffed. "Instead of an ethereal being with wings and a halo, you got a bloated, panicking mortal with vomit in her hair."

"Okay, so you were a little more nauseated than the average angel." Nancy smiled at her friend. "You were still fantastic."

"What brings you two out here?" Joe asked.

"Checking on Nancy," Frank said.

"There's this wonderful contraption that Mr. Bell invented," Joe began, teasingly, but Frank cut him off.

"I didn't forget about the phone. Callie wanted to see her in person. We were in River Heights anyway to go to the Home Depot."

"Crap. Don't tell me the sink is leaking again," Joe groaned.

"No, we were just picking up some paint for the new house," Callie reassured him. "We want to get started redecorating as soon as we move in."

"Do you have a move-in date?" Nancy asked.

"The first weekend in December," Callie said.

Joe whistled. "That's really soon!"

"It's a good thing. We'll be able to get all the moving chaos out of the way before the wedding and the baby get much closer," Frank said.

"Speaking of chaos," Joe started, and Frank groaned.

"I know. The garage."

"I am not looking forward to trying to decide how to divide up all those tools," Joe said darkly. "What's the garage like at your new place?"

"Not bad. Bigger than the one at the apartment, and we don't have to share it with any other tenants." The Hardys' apartment was one of three apartments which had been created by dividing up a large old house. They had chosen it largely because unlike apartment buildings, it offered garage space for them to store and use their tools; but sharing the space with a very disorganized neighbor had been a source of irritation for years.

"What if we just move all our stuff over there?" Joe said.

"Even your motorcycle parts?" Frank asked.

As the brothers launched into a discussion on the ideal storage space for Joe's work-in-progress, Nancy turned to Callie.

"How are you doing? And I mean you, not your passenger."

Callie smiled. "Nobody asks that. How did you know?"

"I remember Bess complaining about it. As soon as people find out you're pregnant, it's like the baby is the only thing they care about. So I always make a point of seeing the woman behind the baby."

"Nancy, you are a beautiful person. If I weren't an engaged woman I think I might kiss you." Callie winked. "I'm feeling...we'll say, tentatively really good. Do you remember the other night, when Mrs. Hardy offered to meet with my parents?"

Nancy nodded. "I'm guessing she did it?"

"They all had dinner together last night. My mom called me afterward, crying, and asked me to forgive them. I have no idea what the Hardys said to them and I don't even care. I'm so relieved."

"Cal, that's wonderful!" Nancy grinned. "I don't think I would stand my ground, either, if Fenton Hardy started telling me I'd done wrong. The man is authority incarnate."

Callie shrugged. "It's a gift horse and I'm not looking it in the mouth. I'm just glad Weatherby is going to have both sets of grandparents."

"Weatherby?" Nancy repeated.

Callie's cheeks turned pink. "It's just a silly name we've been calling the baby."

Frank looked over from his own conversation. "Because we don't know whether it will be a girl or a boy."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Your first dad joke!"

"I think it's cute," Nancy said.

"Thank you," Callie told her. "Anyway, as I was saying, he or she will have both sets of grandparents in his or her life, and I'm really relieved."

"And they're coming to the wedding?"

"They're coming to the wedding." Callie sighed. "Mom is going to nitpick and insinuate that I'm a whore and make me wish we'd eloped, but somehow that's better than having her not show up at all."

"Speaking of the wedding," Nancy said, "I'm being such a crappy maid of honor. You messaged me about getting together to try on bridesmaid dresses almost two weeks ago and I still haven't gotten back to you about it."

"Don't even worry about that. We have plenty of time. What if I feel out everyone's schedule and plan something for next month? I know you have no way of knowing what you'll be doing then, but if we have a date we can start working around it."

"That sounds good. I'm really sorry, Cal."

"I didn't ask you to be in the wedding to make you do my work for me," Callie said. "I just want you standing up with us. If you keep apologizing at me I'll make you wear a dress straight out of the 80s."

"Hey, if that's what you want to see in all your wedding photos..." Nancy teased.

"Something like that might be modest enough to keep Aunt Gertrude from bitching about you all day," Joe pointed out.

"Callie, please let me wear a tube top and a mini skirt," Nancy said immediately.

"Only if I can wear my bikini. Nobody is supposed to outshine the bride," Callie said, straight-faced.

"I like the sound of this," Frank joked. "New wedding theme: pool party!"

"As best man, can I wear a Speedo and one of those inflatable tubes shaped like a dolphin?" Joe asked.

"And instead of walking back down the aisle, we all jump in the deep end and swim out," Nancy suggested.

"As awesome as this is, I think it's too late to change our venue," Callie said, giggling. "We'll totally write this all down and save it for you guys."

"No way. I don't want to make a jackass of myself at my own wedding," Joe declared.

"You make a jackass of yourself at any event with dancing and an open bar," Frank said.

"Unlike some people, I know how to have a good time," Joe shot back.

"Boys, boys," Callie said, laughing. "Truce. I'm going to give the bar staff instructions to keep refilling Frank's glass and to cut Joe off after three beers. Maybe that will balance everything out."

"I'm not drinking if you can't," Frank said seriously. Joe just pouted.

"Not cool. I know how to handle myself."

"Last time you did any serious drinking, you got naked and set off a bunch of firecrackers in Chet's garden," Nancy pointed out.

"Dammit, you guys, that was one time. Once!"

"Joseph," Frank said, "you're never going to live that one down. Deal with it."

Nancy turned back toward Callie. "On a more serious note, what about a dress for you? Have you done any more browsing?"

"A little, but I think I need to wait a few months before I buy anything. I have no idea what size I'm going to be."

"Can't you just estimate high and hope your seamstress is really good?"

"I guess that depends on the dress," Callie said, looking thoughtful. "But, I mean, it's not all going to be here." Her hand circled her abdomen. "It's here, too-" the hand floated up to circle in front of her chest. "I already had to buy a new bra. It's like PMS on steroids."

"On the bright side, as symptoms go, that one isn't too terrible," Nancy said sympathetically.

"No, not completely terrible," Callie agreed. Nancy's trained eye caught a faint blush rising on Frank's face.

"Are you going to find out what it is?" Nancy asked, changing the subject.

"Five bucks says it's an otter," Joe said immediately. Callie smacked him lightly upside the head.

"Don't be an ass," she told him. "We haven't decided yet," she said to Nancy. "We'll probably discuss that with the doctor when I see her." She sighed. "I need Bess to get her butt back here. I have so many questions about this whole thing, and I'm really nervous about this appointment."

"What's to be nervous about? Don't they just check your blood pressure and show you the baby on the screen?" Nancy asked vaguely, realizing after she'd begun speaking that she didn't know much about pregnancy checkups.

"I've been reading up on it, and everyone says it's a lot more thorough than that," Callie said. "Plus, from what I hear, if they do an ultrasound this early it might be transvaginal instead of-"

"Oh, hell no," Joe said, jumping up. "I love you, Callie, but I do not ever want to hear about anything south of your tonsils." And with that, he fled in the direction of the kitchen.

"Why on earth wouldn't he want to hear all about what happens at the gynecologist?" Callie asked, grinning.

Frank shrugged, his own lips tugging into an amused smile. "Beats me. It's not like it's an uncomfortable subject at all."

Callie waved a hand at him. "You can go, honey. You're coming to the appointments. I won't make you sit through girl talk about this stuff."

"Oh, thank God," Frank said, and he followed Joe's path out of the room.

"You don't have to talk about it, either, Nan," Callie said.

Like Frank, Nancy shrugged. "What's the big deal? We all have a body, so there's no point being ashamed of it. Besides, any shame I might once have felt has been desensitized by years of friendship with Bess."

"I wish I could be that cool with it. I really hate having doctors poke around down there." Callie sighed. "Enough about me. How are you, Nan?"

"I'm a little sore. And don't tell Hannah, but I got light-headed coming downstairs this morning," Nancy confessed.

"That's normal, right?"

"Absolutely. In another few days it'll be like nothing ever happened."

Callie pulled her legs up onto the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Your job scares me so much, sometimes. All three of the people I love best in the world are out there every day with big targets painted on their backs."

"Oh, sweetie, it's not like that. Nine days out of ten we're doing the most boring, mundane stuff you can think of."

"But then that tenth day comes around." Callie shook her head. "I left Frank, once, because I couldn't take it. Did I ever tell you that?"

"What? When?"

"While we were in college," Callie said. "It only lasted a few months. I couldn't make myself stop loving him. I thought it would be easier, being away from him, but it wasn't."

"Holy shit," Nancy said, very shocked. "I can't imagine you two breaking up. You guys are like...you're like gravity. You're just part of how the world is."

"I appreciate your faith in us," Callie said. "What about you and Joe? How can you stand the constant risk?"

Nancy laughed ruefully. "We had a fight about that very thing last Sunday."

"Oh, honey. I'm sorry. I noticed you were a little off, but I was way too wrapped up in my own problems to even ask."

Nancy waved Callie's apology aside. "It's something we both struggle with. You just can't let yourself focus on it. What matters is that we're together, we're doing what we love to do, and we're living life on our own terms."

"I just couldn't believe it when he showed up yesterday and started joking with you while they were putting you in the ambulance. I couldn't understand why you wouldn't just tell him to meet you at the hospital. I think," Callie said slowly, "that I really underestimated you guys. You're not just playing around, are you." It wasn't a question. Nancy shook her head, not seeing any need to add to her friend's words.

"May I confess something?" Callie said tentatively. Nancy raised an eyebrow.

"Go ahead."

"Before yesterday, I was starting to feel a little defensive about Joe. He's my brother, Nan. I love him so much. And he really isn't as tough as he acts. I was starting to worry about how Frank and I would help him keep it together when you left him."

"Callie, I'm not going to hurt him!" Nancy said, horrified.

"I know that, now!" Callie said, reaching out to lay a hand on Nancy's arm. "I misinterpreted your relationship, and I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry I made you worry," Nancy replied.

There was a clatter of footsteps in the hall, and both Hardy brothers re-entered the room. Joe was holding a small gift bag.

"Heads up, Callie!" he said, tossing it to her. "I've been driving around with this in my truck for a couple days, and it's just not my style. You'd better take it."

"If it's one of those tuxedo t-shirts, I don't want it," Callie said, opening the bag.

"Nah, I'm saving that for Frank," Joe said.

Callie pulled the little romper out of the bag with fingers that trembled, suddenly. When she looked up, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Oh, Joe," she said.

"Hey now. Don't do that," he scolded gently, sitting down to pull her into a hug.

Callie sniffed. "You're going to be such a good uncle," she said, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Then why are you crying?" he asked, patting her back a little helplessly.

"Just hold on to her for a couple minutes. It'll pass," Frank advised, with an air of experience.

"Thank you," Callie said, lifting her head to give Joe a kiss on the cheek. "It's adorable. Frank, did you see?"

"It's so small," he said, looking a bit wide-eyed as he examined the tiny garment.

"You've got to start somewhere," Joe said, releasing the now dry-eyed Callie. She got up and went to sit on Frank's lap, taking the romper back and holding it in her lap as though the soft grey fabric comforted her.

"Thanks," Frank said, meeting his brother's gaze over Callie's shoulder. "I'm sorry I gave you a hard time about the firecracker incident. You're a good guy."

"I'll try not to let it happen again," Joe said lightly. He scooted over and put an arm around Nancy, his fingers absently catching and toying with a lock of her hair.

"So," Frank said, his tone businesslike again. He always did like to get through emotional scenes quickly and get back on firm ground. "Is the case going well?"

Joe gestured with his free hand toward the paper-strewn coffee table. "As you can see, we're still in the process of tracking down all the loose ends."

"Do you have anything that looks strong?"

"We do have a cunning plan in the works," Joe said.

Nancy spoke up. "Do you remember a case I had- and this was years ago, so you might not- involving stone tablets with pictographs leading to the treasure?"

"I've always been so jealous of that one. It sounded really cool," Joe told her.

"I think I remember that," Frank said. "You forged a tablet to throw your suspect off the trail, didn't you?"

"That's right," Nancy said.

"Are you going back into the forgery business?" Frank asked, interested.

"Your fiancee is going into the forgery business," Joe answered. "If she's interested, that is."

Callie's eyes lit up. "Me? Really? What can I do to help?"

"We need a painting."

"I'm going to need more specific directions, Joey."

Joe looked at Nancy. "What are we thinking, here? Early American?"

"Does the country of origin matter?"

"Huh. I guess not."

Nancy looked at Callie. "We need something valuable, but not valuable enough to make headlines, and it can be from any time before...say, 1920?"

Joe nodded. "Yeah. Early 1900s at the latest."

"I already have a few names in mind. This is going to be so much fun!" Callie said eagerly. "We bought the wrong kind of paint today, Frank. I want to go home and start this thing right away."

"What are you going to do with this painting?" Frank asked curiously.

"We're going to post on this forum, pretending to be Kate- George's friend, whose property the stolen paintings were found on," Nancy explained. " 'Kate' is going to tell the world at large that she found a second cache."

"Then you wait for somebody to break into Kate's house?" Callie said. "That sounds dangerous."

"Yeah, that's too risky. Kate has a kid. So we'll make sure to say that we're keeping the painting in a safe deposit show until opening day of this exhibition...Callie, how would we go about setting up a small art exhibition as bait?" Joe asked.

"There's no way I can paint an exhibition's worth of convincing fakes." Callie looked slightly alarmed.

"We wouldn't ask you to try!" Nancy said hastily. "We just need one really good one. We'll fill in the rest of the space with whatever we can find."

"I wonder if Chet would lend us Iola's paintings," Joe mused.

"You can use some of mine," Callie offered. "They won't look like valuable art, though. You're not going to fool a knowledgeable art thief with them."

"I don't think these people are particularly well-versed in art," Nancy said.

"They're just after their heirloom," Joe explained.

"They?" Frank repeated.

"It's looking more and more like a team effort."

"You're going to need backup."

"Relax, Officer Hardy. Nancy and I don't make half-assed plans."

"Last I checked, you didn't make any kind of plan!" Frank said good-naturedly.

"What can I say? She's a good influence on me," Joe said. "Speaking of good influences, Nan, Sam Radley is in town. He wants to meet up with me and Frank for dinner. Is that okay?"

"Since when do you ask permission to have dinner?" Nancy asked, bewildered.

"I just don't want to ditch you while you're recovering."

"Oh. No, you go ahead. I'm fine, and Hannah will be back soon anyway. Callie, do you want to hang out here with us?"

"That sounds nice! As long as Hannah doesn't mind."

"What is Hannah going to mind?" the housekeeper, who had just let herself in the front door, called.

"Callie staying for dinner," Nancy called back.

"Callie, you're welcome here any time," Hannah said. "What can I fix for you?"

"Please don't go to any trouble for me," Callie said politely.

"Nonsense. Why don't you come on back to the kitchen with me and we can figure something out?"

"All right." Callie kissed Frank and slid off his lap. "Tell Sam hello from me."

"Will do. And I guess I'll just come back and pick you up after."

"Why don't we just leave her my truck?" Joe offered. "Saves us some coordinating."

"Thanks, Joe." Callie stepped over to give him a quick hug. "And thanks, so much, for the baby gift."

"Go on. Hannah's waiting," Joe said gruffly.

"If Callie takes your truck, am I running you back here after dinner?" Frank asked his brother.

Joe hesitated.

"I know that look," Nancy said. "He wants to go home and work on his motorcycle."

"You caught me," Joe said sheepishly. "But I don't want to leave you alone with that guy still at large."

"Dad had a really good alarm system put in. I'm pretty sure I'll be safe here." Nancy held his gaze for a moment. "Go home, put some music on, and get your hands greasy. You need some relaxation time. I promise I'll call you if I feel unsafe."

"You heard the girl," Frank said. "Plus, you can always come over here later if you change your mind."

Joe's face lost its guilty expression. "That is true. Okay. So I guess I'll call you tomorrow morning and we'll coordinate our plans for the day."

"Sounds good." Nancy walked the brothers to the door, pausing there to wrap her arms around Joe and tuck her head under his chin. "Have a good night," she told him.

Joe bent his head and and kissed her, drawing it out until suddenly they both became aware of Frank jingling his car keys in a meaningful way.

"Sorry, Frank!" Nancy said.

"Give me those." Joe reached out and snagged the keys from his brother. He turned back to Nancy and kissed her one more time. "Take care of yourself tonight. I love you."

"Love you, too," Nancy said softly, glancing at Frank and feeling herself blush a little. It was funny how much more intimate it felt to utter those three words than to embrace him in front of his brother. Frank, to his credit, was very studiously pretending he didn't hear anything.

The house seemed a lot quieter after the boys had gone. I have got to stop calling them "the boys," Nancy thought, smiling to herself.

Hannah and Callie were chatting companionably in the kitchen. Callie was sipping tea at the kitchen island, and Hannah was mixing up a bowl of batter.

"Nancy, it feels so quiet here with your father gone," she said as Nancy came in.

"I know. I was just thinking that," Nancy told her. "I keep checking my phone for a message from him. I wish I knew when he was going to propose."

"Probably not on their first night there," Hannah speculated. "I expect it'll be tomorrow."

Nancy took a seat next to Callie. "There's something annoying. Why is it okay for him to go away for the weekend with his girlfriend, but not for Joe to spend the night in my room?"

"Sheer parental protectiveness. It doesn't have to make sense," Hannah said. "What do you girls have planned for this evening?"

Callie and Nancy exchanged glances. "Browsing bridesmaid dresses?" Nancy said tentatively.

"Sure," Callie said.

"I have a little case work to wrap up for the day and then I'm all yours," Nancy promised.

"Perfect. I can start browsing paintings to forge while you do that!" Callie said happily.

"Did rope poor Callie into your shenanigans?" Hannah demanded from her place at the stove.

"I didn't. Joe did," Nancy said. "Hannah, can I help with that?"

"You can get out the butter and syrup," Hannah said, flipping a golden-brown pancake onto a platter. "Callie said pancakes sounded good."

"I had them last night, too. I don't know if it's too soon for this, but I seriously think this is my first craving."

Nancy set the butter and syrup on the island and went to the cabinet for some plates. "Weatherby has good taste, Cal. Hannah makes the best pancakes."

"Frank's were pretty good, too." Callie had her phone out and was scrolling through a gallery of artwork. "This is so exciting. I hope I have a canvas prepped already."

"What dubious scheme has Joe pulled you into?" Hannah asked, deftly pouring a new pool of batter onto her skillet.

"I get to forge a painting for them to use as bait," Callie said. "I get all the fun and none of the danger."

Nancy, who had pulled out her own phone to text Bess an update on the PO box situation, looked up. "Before you say anything, Hannah, let me assure you that the plan will not go into effect until I've healed up a little."

"Oh, a little healing," Hannah scoffed. "That's all you need." She wagged her pancake flipper at Nancy. "You'd better take every precaution you can think of, and then some, missy."

"Yes, ma'am," Nancy said meekly.

The evening progressed in a comfortable, friendly way. After dinner was done and the girls had washed the dishes they curled up in the living room, sometimes talking and sometimes working on their own projects. Nancy had just raised her head to say something to Callie, to express her contentment with their easy companionship, when the doorbell rang.

"Heavens!" said Hannah, dropping her knitting. "Who can that be?"

"Don't open it," Nancy warned.

"I know that. After all these years I'd be a ninny not to know that," Hannah muttered, peeking through the peephole. She looked back at the girls. "It's a young woman. She looks unhappy."

Callie grabbed Nancy's arm. "It could be a trap."

"Let me look." Nancy popped up on tiptoe to put her eye to the peephole, ignoring the stab of pain in her bandaged side. "It's Faith!"

"Are you going to let her in?" Callie asked.

"I'm going to risk it." Nancy undid the bolt as she spoke. "Faith?" she called, opening the door just enough for the girl to slip inside. "Come in."

Silently, Faith let herself be ushered into the living room; she refused the chair Nancy offered her, but stood miserably in the middle of the room, twisting her scarf in her hands.

"What's wrong?" Nancy asked gently.

"Is it true that someone tried to kill you?" Faith asked. Fresh tears traced a shining path down her face. Hannah handed her a tissue and she accepted it automatically, clenching it in one trembling fist.

"Do you know anything about who was responsible?" Nancy asked.

Faith sobbed.

"Faith, please. If you know anything, anything at all-"

"I lied!" Faith blurted.

Nancy's eyes widened. "What did you lie about?"

"About not knowing anything relevant." Faith stumbled forward and dropped into a vacant chair, her eyes fixed on Nancy's face. "I do know something, and it might have gotten you killed, and I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I heard."

"Please tell me," Nancy said, struggling to keep the impatience out of her tone.

Faith took a deep breath. "I hid some papers from you, the first time I took you to Bren's apartment," she confessed. "It was the paperwork my brother had drawn up, detailing a loan he had made to Keith."

"Keith owed your brother money?" Nancy leaned forward, her eagerness bleeding through despite her efforts to stay calm. "Was it a substantial amount?"

Faith named a sum that made Callie's eyebrows leap upward.

"But Keith wouldn't have hurt Brendan!" Faith continued, her voice rising hysterically. "Why would he do that? They were friends. Keith just wouldn't, he wouldn't kill anyone..." Her voice trailed off and she buried her face in her tissue, her thin shoulders shaking with repressed sobs.

"Faith," Nancy said firmly, "you did the right thing by telling me. Keith isn't going to be in any trouble as long as he didn't commit the crime."

"Are you going to arrest me?" Faith asked, scrubbing at her cheeks with her very ragged tissue. Hannah silently handed her a fresh one.

"No, I'm not going to arrest you." Nancy thought for a minute. "Do you happen to know where Keith was yesterday afternoon, around two o'clock?"

"No. Is that- is that when you got attacked?"

Nancy nodded. "I'll check up on him in the morning. Maybe he has an alibi."

Faith sniffed. "I j-just wanted to protect him."

"You didn't believe he was capable of harming anyone," Nancy said, nodding. "What made you change your mind?"

"I s-saw it. The bayonet." Faith gulped. "The one, the one they k-killed Bren with. Keith has it under his bed."

"Why were you looking under Keith's bed?" Nancy asked.

"I wasn't exactly looking." A slow flush crept up Faith's neck. "I was, I mean, we were, um, together. We had dinner, and we went back to his room, and-"

"I think I get the picture," Nancy said, having mercy on the girl. "Did you notify the police?"

"No! I came straight here."

"Okay. The first thing you need to do is call the police. Did the officer in charge of the investigation leave you his cell number?"

Faith nodded.

"Call him," Nancy urged. "This is a valuable lead. And I promise, Faith, if Keith is innocent- if he's being framed, or if it's not the same bayonet- he's not going to be in trouble. We are going to solve this, and we're going to solve it right."

"Thank you." Faith took a deep, shaky breath. "I'm sorry, Nancy. I shouldn't have held back information."

"Thank you for coming clean," Nancy told her. She stood and held out a hand to the younger woman. "Come on. I'll walk you out. Do you feel safe going back to your place tonight?"

"I'll crash at my friend Megan's place."

"All right. I'll have my phone on all night. Call me anytime if you need me," Nancy said.

"That was intense," Callie remarked as Nancy returned to the couch. "And it looks like you won't be needing my help after all."

"You know that line about not counting your chickens till they're hatched?" Nancy retorted. "It's not over yet, Cal. You may still get to paint your masterpiece." She reached for her phone. Joe needed to know what had just happened.