By Friday, Nancy had dragged Humphrey on another round of the suspects, and from everything she could tell Ned had kept his promise to her. None of them acted like they were suspicious of her at all. In fact, just as they had the first time, most of them ignored her. Nancy took the time to gossip with the secretaries and assistants, though, since they might know more than the partners actually did.

When Nancy called Mr. Nickerson's office, she was told that he was out of town, but she came by anyway to ask a few more questions. The assistant who had brought Nancy to the helicopter was there, and her expression was one of barely veiled contempt. Nancy concentrated her efforts on one of the other assistants, and reminded herself that the brunette had no idea what had passed between them. At least, Nancy was pretty sure she didn't. All she saw was a woman her boss apparently was trying to seduce—and, given the length of time they had been alone together on the yacht, he easily could have succeeded, for all the brunette knew.

Nancy kept in touch with her father so he would be abreast of developments, but his schedule meant he wasn't even able to make it to the city for the weekend. Nor would there have been any point, since the offices would have been closed, and the partners busy with their own plans. He was holding out hope for Monday, but Nancy had done all the questioning she could; what was left was figuring out who was lying and who wasn't.

On Friday morning, Nancy sat down on the bed in her hotel room and considered everything she had learned, and for a moment wished that she had someone to discuss the case with in person. Humphrey was the most logical candidate, but since she had been out to see Ned that night, Humphrey's teasing about it had been relentless—and his jealousy was clear.

Many of the assistants, Nancy had discovered during her questioning, thought that Kate Gordon had something going on with Cantoni, some sort of relationship. Nancy had asked Humphrey about it, but Humphrey had rolled his eyes. Cantoni had a reputation to uphold, and he had been dating a series of stick-thin ultra-gorgeous models. While Kate was wealthy and influential, she had definitely been neither stick-thin nor ultra-gorgeous.

Nancy glanced over at her cell phone. She had been fighting the urge to call Ned, but she still wanted him to make the first move. He hadn't followed up on his request to take her out that Saturday night, and anticipation of whatever he might have had planned was enough to drive her to distraction. Maybe another trip on his yacht or another special evening...

Nancy's stomach flipped, and she had to force herself to grab a strawberry breakfast bar to eat along with her morning coffee. She could tell that Ned was enjoying their little game, and she would have been content to let him take his time, under other circumstances. However, once she figured out who had murdered Kate Gordon, she would be on her way back to Chicago, and away from him.

She loved solving cases. She had never dreaded finding the solution to a case quite so much before.

After all, what if he killed her?

Then it's better to know now, before I do anything more foolish.

Try as she might, though, Nancy couldn't make herself believe Ned had anything to do with it. She wasn't sure she could bear it if he had.

And, she told herself, she had thoroughly enjoyed discussing the case with him. That was what she wanted. Maybe a nice leisurely lunch, being able to go over her theories of the case with him, being able to see him again...

She wanted so badly to see him again. She had been intensely disappointed when he hadn't been in his office during her visit. She couldn't imagine having more than two or three additional opportunities to see him before she would have to leave, and that knowledge made her feel almost miserable.

Nancy had tried to tell herself over and over that what she was feeling was just a side effect of her natural exhilaration over the case, and she had to believe that. She couldn't be in love with him. He was just incredibly fascinating; that was all. Fascinating and a suspect.

Once she finished her breakfast bar, Nancy tossed the wrapper into the trash and swallowed the last sip of her coffee. "All right. Let's start at the beginning," she told herself, and went back through her papers. The stack had grown considerably since she had arrived, and she began to separate the financial records from the professional biographies and personal information, just to impose some order upon it. When her stomach began to growl, she picked up the paper she was studying and absently began to gather her clothes so she could take a shower.

Interregnum. She couldn't remember where she had seen that name, but it was ringing some distant bells...

Still pondering that, along with everything else she was considering, Nancy took a quick shower and dressed in straight-legged jeans and a purple and green flower-sprigged blouse. She was just applying some lip gloss when she heard a phone ringing, and she was startled when she realized it was the hotel room's phone.

"Hello?"

"Miss Drew?"

"Yes?"

"A delivery is waiting for you at the front desk. Would you like it sent up?"

"No, no. I'll be right down," she decided, finding her sandals.

She definitely wasn't expecting anything, but from past experience when an unexpected package arrived, it was generally a threat or warning. Such occurrences always upset Bess and made her much more cautious, and made George even more determined, but Nancy was encouraged by such attempts. They meant she was close to finding the culprit, and he or she was beginning to panic—and thus far more likely to make mistakes.

The clerk at the front desk smiled at her in recognition and nodded to the left, where Nancy saw a man in a security uniform, carrying a garment bag. "Miss Drew?"

Nancy nodded, and he presented a clipboard to her, asking for her signature to indicate her receipt of the bag. She handed it over, then accepted the bag, which seemed a bit heavier than she was expecting. A note was fastened to the outside.

Noticing that the staff was watching with some curiosity, Nancy decided to open the bag and read the contents of the envelope in relative privacy, and headed for the elevators. She called the next car, but her curiosity definitely had the better of her as she opened the envelope while waiting.

I had to guess your size; if you need to take advantage of my tailor, his number is below and he would be delighted to assist you. Please call to let me know you received it, and I look forward to seeing you wearing it Saturday night.

-N

Nancy rushed back to her room as soon as the elevator reached her floor, then laid the bag on the bed and unzipped it.

Inside she found the most beautiful dress she had ever seen in person. It was floor-length, gold, with a strapless bodice and an embellished tulle skirt that flared out from the fitted waist into a perfect ballgown silhouette. She gasped when she hung it from the back of the bathroom door so she could see the full effect.

So he wanted her to wear this on Saturday? She couldn't imagine what event they could possibly be attending that would call for such a perfectly beautiful gown. Maybe the Oscars, she considered with a giggle.

And that was when Nancy realized that, of everything she had brought with her and bought, she had absolutely nothing that would go with the dress, not even a pair of shoes.

Nancy took a photo of the dress with her phone's camera and sent it to Bess, along with a caption. So what would I wear with this, best friend/personal stylist? ;)

Bess called back within two minutes. "So that's what you're doing in New York, going to Neiman Marcus and taunting me with pictures of absolutely fantastic dresses?"

"That's exactly what I'm doing here," Nancy replied teasingly. "I think I'm getting close to the solution, though, so maybe I'll be back soon. In the meantime, what accessories would go with this dress?"

"Is it a clue?" Bess sounded both curious and delighted.

"No, I'm supposed to wear it, and I know I'll need some new shoes but I'm at a loss. What do you suggest?"

Nancy didn't hear anything for a moment, and pulled the phone away from her ear to make sure the call hadn't dropped. "Hello? Bess, are you still there?"

"Y—yes," Bess finally forced out. "Uh, Nancy, I misunderstood you. You'll be wearing it? Like, did you borrow it or something?"

"I don't understand why you're getting so freaked out," Nancy replied. "Why would I have to borrow it?"

Bess gulped. "Nancy Antoinette Drew—"

"That's not my name," Nancy corrected mildly.

"—that is runway Oscar de la Renta. Not ready-to-wear, runway. I remember seeing it in the spring collection. The price tag on that dress has to be five digits. And I know for a fact that your clothes budget is nowhere near enough to cover it. So again I ask you, what the hell are you doing with it?"

Nancy flushed hotly. Five digits. Five digits?

She was starting to wonder not what event they would be attending, but what Ned might be expecting in return for such a lavish gift.

"And don't even try to tell me it's a knockoff."

Just to check, Nancy gingerly felt for the label. Bess was right. And absolutely no price tag was attached. No wonder a security guard had basically delivered it to her. She wouldn't have wanted anything to happen to it, either.

"Nan?"

"I promise I'll explain later," Nancy said, running her fingers through her hair. "But I need to know what to wear with it. If I wear it."

"Gold pumps and an updo," Bess answered. "And for God's sake take more than twelve seconds to do your makeup with it. In fact, I'd recommend that you go to a makeup counter and have them do it for you. Winged eyeliner would really make your eyes pop—oh hell, like you're going to remember what I'm saying. Take a picture of the dress with you and—go to this makeup counter." Bess ordered Nancy to make a note of the name.

"God, I wish I was there," Bess moaned. "Holy shit, that dress is beautiful. And you had better explain soon, Drew, or I really will get on a plane and go out there."

"How did George's triathlon go?" Nancy asked.

Bess grudgingly allowed Nancy to change the subject, but by the time she had hung up the phone, Nancy wasn't sure what to do. She couldn't accept such a gift.

With one last glance at her research, and another blush rising in her cheeks, she picked up her phone and dialed again, this time calling Ned's cell number.

"So it arrived," Ned guessed in greeting.

Nancy chuckled. "I can't accept this," she told him, her voice low. "It's absolutely gorgeous and I sincerely appreciate the gesture, but I can't accept it."

"Of course you can," Ned said. "You need something stunning to wear on Saturday night, something almost as beautiful as you are."

"I never even said I was free Saturday night," Nancy pointed out, her voice still low.

"But I've kept up my end of our bargain," Ned said. "I think those were our terms. Would you care for dinner first? Louis is always eager to earn new devotees."

"You're being awfully presumptuous."

"Never," he replied, a smile in his voice. "So, seven-oh-five, then. And if you change your mind about dinner...?"

Nancy gave him a dramatic sigh. "Seven-oh-five," she agreed. "No dinner first. I doubt I'll be able to eat anyway."

"Oh? Well, I'll make sure Louis waits up and makes us some sundaes after."

Nancy laughed, thanking him again before she hung up, but when she looked back at the dress she was shaking. What would he expect of her, for accepting that dress?

Nancy looked back down at her research, but she was too keyed up to focus on it quite yet. She called George to congratulate her on her performance in the triathlon, then Hannah Gruen just to let her know how much she missed her, and slowly she was able to focus again. Interregnum. She opened her laptop after she hung up with Hannah, then glanced back at the dress. If she needed it to be taken in...

I can't wear it, she reminded herself. I can't accept this.

But she already had.

A basic search was too wide, and running a search with Kate Gordon's name plus Interregnum didn't return any hits. Nancy was still distracted by the problem as she pushed herself up off the bed, then crossed to the dress.

She handled it very delicately, but once she zipped herself into it and turned to look at her reflection, she almost shivered with happiness. The dress fit her like a glove. It showed the shadow of her cleavage, but wasn't too low cut. She smoothed her palms down the sides of the bodice. Her silhouette was so slender, and the fabric was warmed by her skin.

She wondered what she would do if she was alone with him again, if he did more than just tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, if he tried to kiss her...

Nancy lowered her gaze, then looked back up again. Her cheeks were flushed.

He was a suspect. She needed to put the gown back into the garment bag and send it back to him with an apologetic note.

She tried to put it out of her head, as she changed back into her regular clothes and went back to the search, but it was hard. Whatever memory the word "Interregnum" had triggered, it wasn't based on the word itself. She looked at the spreadsheet of figures Humphrey had made after his own research and his discussion with the CFO, comparing the partners' estimated net worth over each of the past five years. Ned's had only continued to rise...

Nancy swept her hair out of her face, shaking her head. She needed to put him out of her mind; she needed to decide to ignore all his flirtations and presents.

I gave you that dress, Miss Drew. It's only fair that I get to take it back when I want...

Nancy dropped her chin to her chest, closing her eyes. She couldn't do it. She couldn't put herself in this situation. When she was around him, it was too easy to follow his lead, to go along with whatever he was asking. Even over the phone... just speaking to him was enough.

And with other women, she was sure his wealth and incredible good looks were enough. She hated that he had this indescribable influence over her. She hated how much she was looking forward to their next meeting. What could be a more perfect plan for the murderer than to keep her close to him, gain her confidence, so he could keep tabs on her progress?

Nancy took a trembling breath, dry-washing her face with her palms, that same hot blush still warming her cheeks. She felt lost, and she didn't know who to talk to. George would advise caution, and remind her yet again that Ned was a suspect. Bess would probably say that any guy who would give her such an expensive dress couldn't be a bad guy. Her father would be incredibly disappointed in her for falling for this guy's line when, for all they knew, Ned was the one they were looking for.

Nancy let out a long sigh. Her best defense would be finding the evidence to prove Ned's guilt—or his innocence.

Before she did, though, Nancy finished checking the financials. Victoria Parker's net worth had been shrinking slowly over the past five years; if that had been a factor in her vote...

She noticed that Lionel Stallings's net worth had held steady, and Brian MacIntosh's had risen slightly. Given the market, fluctuations were to be expected, but flat or falling returns could make investors desperate.

She found another spreadsheet detailing the various investments made by the Bennett Group and rate of returns, and noticed that a few of them were listed as "other." She would have to check with Humphrey to see what the miscellaneous ones might be, and if the Bennett Group's investments under Carlton had grown more conservative, and if the other partners had possibly disagreed with that plan. Maybe that could have prompted an attempted takeover.

But, she thought, that still didn't explain Mark's involvement.

Means and motive, but maybe no opportunity. Maybe the inverse was true. Maybe Mark had just been the most convenient scapegoat.

After the meeting. Her father's boat.

Interregnum.

Nancy was still lost in thought as she gathered enough change for a diet soda and grabbed her room key, heading down the hall to the bank of vending machines near the elevators.

Why the boat? Why that night?

I have to find out what they were discussing. That has to be the key to all this. It has to be.

And Ned had given her the perfect opportunity to convince him to tell her. If she could find the nerve.

"Nan! Any new leads?"

Nancy looked up quickly, and found Humphrey just exiting the elevator, his hand raised in greeting. She bit back her irritation. "Maybe," she murmured. "Look, let me ask you about something."

"Your room?"

"Yours," Nancy said. She didn't like the idea of Humphrey in her room. She liked the idea of him being outside it, where she could lock him out.

She brought over the financials she had been studying. Humphrey had his shoes off and his shirt-sleeves rolled up. "How was your morning?" he asked.

Nancy glanced up, a little surprised he was asking. "Fine," she said. She didn't want to mention Ned's gift, especially since she still hadn't decided what to do about it. "Yours?"

"Great," Humphrey said warmly. "Fantastic. Vince has been giving me all these great tips, and I'm really thinking about investing..."

Nancy cast a sharp look at Humphrey. "You haven't told him about the investigation," she said, and when she saw him squirm a little her heart sank. "Humphrey, what the hell?"

"Look, I know him," Humphrey protested.

"No you don't! You told me you knew his brother," Nancy pointed out, exasperated, her hands on her hips. "How much have you told him?"

"I haven't," he said. "Seriously. I mean, I have asked him if he suspects anyone of the partners of being involved with what happened to Kate, but the conversation just worked its way around to that. Seriously, Nan."

Nancy bit back her knee-jerk irritation when he addressed her by the nickname. "You can't trust him," she emphasized. "Not until we know who did this, we can't trust any of them."

"Really?" Humphrey said, his expression darkening. "You really want to try that, after you basically spent the night with one of them?"

Nancy couldn't stop herself from blushing. "It was an interview," she said, defensively. "Look, just be careful. Don't tell him anything more. Once the case is over you can network with him all you want, but let's just focus, okay?"

"Same to you," Humphrey said, as she reached for the sheet again.

Nancy took a few deep breaths before she was able to calm down. She didn't want to start a shouting match with him. "There is one thing," she said, her voice even. "While you two have been talking, has Vince mentioned to you what the meeting was about, that night on the yacht?"

Humphrey shook his head. "Just that it was confidential."

Nancy mouthed a curse. "I've noticed that several of the partners are seeing low or negative growth," she said. "Thanks to that spreadsheet you made."

She didn't mind flattering him, especially because it was true, and it might soothe his ruffled feathers. Humphrey smiled. "I noticed that too, of course."

Behind her back, Nancy dug her nails into the back of her leg for a few seconds to keep from snapping at him. "Could it be that Carlton Gordon's investments had become more conservative, and that prompted the frustration? What about these 'other' investments on this chart?"

They went over the spreadsheets and charts for a few hours, until Nancy's stomach began to growl, and when Humphrey said they could go downstairs and have lunch in the hotel's restaurant and continue their conversation, Nancy went along with it; she didn't want to lose track of the leads they were discussing and have to start over.

While Humphrey was good at explaining the Bennett Group's finances in terms Nancy could easily grasp, he also wasn't accustomed to thinking about cases the way Nancy was, and when he wasn't suggesting that money was the primary motivation, he was spinning complicated stories that seemed to be jumbled rehashes of old Lifetime moves. Either way, he was still firmly set in conventional thinking—and still entirely convinced that neither Vincent nor Victoria had anything to do with the murder. He did seem convinced that Nickerson was involved, though, but Nancy sensed that it was more his jealousy than any clue he had found in the course of their research.

After lunch, while they were waiting for the check, Nancy mentioned the Interregnum clue she had come across but couldn't place. "It's probably nothing," she said, shaking her head. "It's just bugging me, and in all honesty, I think the last piece of this puzzle is what they were discussing at that meeting on the yacht that night."

Humphrey frowned at the spreadsheet. "It would be easier if so many of the partners didn't invest in so many similar side projects," he said. "Especially ones with similar names. Nickerson's invested in a clean energy project; so has Stallings. MacIntosh was burned when he backed the wrong horse in the next-gen player race, so he's stayed out of tech whenever he could. I tried running a list of all the intersections between all the partners, but it was pages long."

"So the Interregnum thing doesn't ring a bell for you either."

Humphrey rubbed his forehead. "It might. I'll run a check—"

"I already have. Whatever it is, that's not the name of it. Maybe I have it backwards, or it was just something that reminded me of that word. But my memory is generally better than that."

"And a search didn't come up with anything."

Nancy shrugged. "I'm going to keep looking, but..."

Humphrey nodded. "Look, I'll check into it, and if I can maybe just... convince Vince to talk about the meeting...?"

Nancy frowned. "You have to be careful," she reminded him again. "And it might be easier for us to talk to the secretaries about it, anyway. I think that shy-ish one in Stallings's office had a thing for you."

Humphrey chuckled. "You think?"

"And if you hurry, I bet you could catch her before she leaves the office," Nancy said, watching Humphrey sign the check.

In the elevator, Nancy remembered something. "By the way, did you happen to mention that rumor about Kate to Cantoni, to see what was going on there? Because if Cantoni was trying to get Kate's ear in anticipation of her taking over..."

"That would make a lot more sense than their dating," Humphrey said, and his eyes widened in an exaggeratedly innocent expression when Nancy glared at him. "What? And you've asked Nickerson if he dated her, right?"

"He said he didn't," Nancy said, forcing herself to stay calm. "Regardless of who shot Kate, though, he or she had to have a reason for doing it on the boat instead of in the city, where she could have just—vanished."

Humphrey offered to bring his laptop over to her room so they could keep brainstorming while they researched, but she didn't want him disturbing her system, and she needed to puzzle over everything they had discussed herself. She told him to go ahead back to his room and bought another diet soda, breathing a sigh of relief when Humphrey was out of sight.

Back in her room, before she did anything else, Nancy ran the one search she hadn't yet. The images that came up in the search showed a series of slender, ultra-beautiful women, each with her hand joined to Ned's, entering or exiting restaurants or nightclubs. When he was single, Ned was considered quite the eligible bachelor, and the gossip magazines often ran paparazzi photos of him with the women he was apparently dating.

She was afraid to find out whether he was currently dating someone else, but according to the most recent information she could find, he and his most recent girlfriend had broken up three months earlier. He'd had a six-month relationship with a prima ballerina named Belinda Morrison, and in the pictures she looked like a total bitch. The other girls looked almost blandly, conventionally beautiful, with generic titles like talent representative and marketing manager. They looked sophisticated and mature.

Nancy looked down at her clothes, then at the dress, her stomach sinking. She didn't want to think about it, so she closed her web search, then uncapped her soda. Before she went back to her research, she took the dress and put it in the closet, where it wouldn't be lingering in the corner of her eye.

What does it matter if he's seeing anyone else? she asked herself as she closed the closet door. It's not like this is going anywhere.

Focusing on the case again was a relief, but Nancy was still feeling discouraged when the sky began to darken as the sun set. Nancy stretched and called her father, giving him an update on the case and asking whether he could see any angles they hadn't yet considered. He agreed with her that finding out the topic of the meeting might be the best clue, but he also cautioned her that, depending on the law, it might be inadmissible, or it might even be illegal for any of the partners to tell either of them about it.

Nancy was just considering going to the vending machine down the hall for a bag of chips to stave off her hunger pangs, but decided to go ahead and order a salad from room service for dinner. She had just touched the receiver when her cell phone chirped.

Going 2 grab a drink w/Stallings' secretary. Wish me luck!

Good luck, Nancy texted Humphrey back, and heard his door slam across the hall as he left. She ordered her salad, then flipped through the channels, looking for something mindless she could turn on while her subconscious churned through everything again.

She had her research sorted into even piles on the desk before the runner knocked on her door. "Room service."

"Coming," Nancy called, glancing around to make sure everything was put away. Then she opened the door with a smile, allowing the uniformed woman to bring in the tray.

"Miss Drew? I was also asked to give you this."

Nancy waited until the runner had left to open the plain white envelope, addressed to her in block print.

Drop this investigation, or you're next.