“Then what are you doing in Will Leonard’s room?” Nancy asked pointedly.
Braddock smiled. “You can’t write twenty-seven detective novels without learning something about solving mysteries. After you told me Will and Sally were missing, I decided to use what I’d learned to solve a real mystery.”
Braddock seemed to have an answer for everything, but Nancy was still not convinced. Just yesterday the author had blown up at the mere mention of Sally and Will. Now she was trying to help save them. This turnaround was too quick to be believed.
Rather than challenge Braddock on this point, Nancy went ahead with her questioning. “One more thing,” Nancy said. “When George and I were outside your room, we heard you on the phone with someone. You were telling them they couldn’t get a million dollars for something.”
Braddock glared at her. “You had no right to eavesdrop on my private conversation.”
“We weren’t eavesdropping,” Nancy said. “We were standing outside your door because you invited us over.”
“You still don’t have a right to be so nosy,” Braddock said huffily. “But since I want to clear my name, I’ll tell you the truth. I was just giving a friend of mine some advice. She’s a writer too, and she’s about to sell a novel. She was asking me how much money she should ask for. It had nothing to do with Sally and Will.”
Nancy studied Braddock’s face in the eerie lamplight. The light bounced off the author’s bifocals for a moment. Nancy noticed that behind her glasses, Braddock’s eyes really were a brilliant blue. She wasn’t wearing tinted blue contacts after all! Now Nancy was convinced that the blue contact lens she’d found belonged to the kidnapper. So that meant that Braddock was in the clear.
“Tell you what,” Nancy said. “Why don’t we search this room together?”
Braddock stood up and looked at Nancy suspiciously. “You’ve asked me a lot of questions,” she said. “But you’ve never told me who you are. Why should I trust you? You lied to me yesterday when you came to visit. You pretended to be a fan. I’ll bet you’ve never read a single one of my books.”
“That’s true,” Nancy admitted.
“So who are you?” Braddock demanded. “Why do you care what happened to Will and Sally?”
“I’m an amateur detective,” Nancy said. “You might say solving mysteries is my hobby.”
“You and everyone else at this convention,” Braddock said. “I’ll bet you’ve never solved a real crime in your life.”
“I’ve solved a couple,” Nancy said modestly.
Braddock looked at her for a moment, frowning. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Nancy. Nancy Drew.”
“Wait a minute.” Braddock’s face lit up, and she began to nod emphatically. “I do know about you! From my friend, Monica Crown. She raved about the way you cleared her daughter of a robbery charge.”
Nancy smiled. “I was happy to help her. She’s a wonderful woman and a terrific writer. That was a really exciting mystery to solve.”
“Monica sent me an article about the case that was in the River Heights paper—the Case of the Disappearing Diamonds,” Eileen Braddock said eagerly. “But it didn’t have a picture of you.”
“I’m just a detective,” Nancy said. “Not a TV star.”
“Detectives have fans too,” said Braddock. “Just look at Fifi Spinelli!”
Nancy laughed. Then she said, “Well, maybe we’d better start looking for clues.”
“I’ll follow your lead,” Braddock said.
Nancy strode over to the heavy drapes and pulled the cord to open them. Sunlight poured into the room. She blinked in the sudden light and turned back to face Braddock.
“I’ll start by the door,” she said.
“Right,” said Braddock. “I’ll check the bed.”
Nancy got down on her hands and knees and began to search along the carpet by the door.
Eileen Braddock had disappeared behind one side of the bed. Nancy stood up to see what she was doing. Braddock sat up at the same moment. She was holding something in her hand.
“Look at this,” the author said.
Nancy walked around behind the bed to see what the author was holding. It was a piece of gray cloth.
“Where was it?” Nancy asked.
“It was caught in the metal frame of the bed,” Braddock said.
Nancy bent down to examine the cloth. It was made of a lightweight synthetic material. The gray color reminded Nancy of something, but she couldn’t remember what. The cloth was only a few inches square, and it was frayed around the edges. “It looks like it was ripped off something else,” Nancy said. “Maybe the kidnapper was wearing gray, there was a struggle, and the kidnapper’s clothing was torn.”
“That’s exactly what Fifi Spinelli would have said,” the author told her.
Just then they heard the door burst open. Nancy crouched even lower behind the bed and motioned Braddock to do the same. Nancy held her breath as she heard heavy footsteps tromp into the room, then stop. Quietly Nancy let out her breath and breathed in again. A familiar smell filled her nostrils—cigar smoke.
“Crazy mystery people,” a voice muttered.
Nancy immediately recognized the raspy voice. It belonged to Security Chief Ray Sherbinski.
Nancy flattened herself against the floor. She didn’t want Sherbinski to see her. Even if she explained that she and Braddock were investigating Will’s disappearance, they could still get in a lot of trouble for being in Will’s room.
But what was Sherbinski doing there? He hadn’t wanted to investigate before. He didn’t even believe the kidnappings were real. Why was he suddenly so interested in Will’s room?
