Free 038 The Final Scene by Carolyn Keene Page B

was unfortunate that he walked in at that particular moment.”
    Nancy looked at her friend’s troubled expression and felt terrible. “I’m sorry, George,” she said. “And if Nicholas really is innocent—and I hope he is—I’m sorry I hurt his feelings.”
    • • •
    At ten that morning George drove Nancy home from the hospital. Hannah had her tucked into her own bed in no time at all.
    “I can’t believe you disobeyed your doctor’s orders and checked out of the hospital today,” Hannah said, bustling around. “Did your father know you were going to do that?”
    Nancy sighed and laid her head back on the pillow that Hannah had just fluffed. “No.”
    “Well, he’s going to be very angry with you when he finds out,” Hannah said, her hands on her hips.
    “I know,” Nancy said, reaching for the bedside telephone. “That’s why I’m going to call him now and tell him myself before the doctor has a chance to get to him first.”
    “I’ll make you some chicken soup,” Hannah said as she left the bedroom. “And, George, make sure she stays in that bed!”
    George smiled. “Hannah’s famous chicken soup could cure anything from the common cold to bubonic plague,” she said.
    As Nancy dialed her father’s office number, she knew that this time Hannah’s soup would not stop her head and arm from aching.
    Hannah had been right, of course. She probably should have stayed in the hospital. She would have stayed, but she couldn’t help Bess from a hospital bed. And if she didn’t break this case today . . .
    This was the last day. In less than seven hours the theater would be a pile of rubble andBess would be dead. Time was running out, and Nancy was keenly aware of every passing minute.
    When her father’s secretary put her through to him, Nancy steeled herself for his reaction.
    “You did what?” he roared into the phone when she told him.
    “Dad, I had to. Please try to understand. You wouldn’t stay in the hospital if it were me who was missing.”
    There was silence on the other end. Nancy couldn’t tell if he was still angry or considering her point of view.
    “Dad?”
    “I understand,” he said at last. “That doesn’t mean I approve. Just promise me that you’ll take it easy.”
    “I’ll try.” Nancy hung up the phone.
    “So what’s the plan?” George asked.
    “Hmm?” Nancy bit her lower lip.
    “When you get that look in your eyes, I can tell you’re up to something.”
    Nancy got out of bed, and before slipping into a pair of jeans and a sweater, slipped out of her sling. Her arm was okay but felt a little stiff.
    “Maybe I should be hit on the head more often. I just thought of something we should have done long ago.”
    “So, tell,” said George.
    “We need to go to City Hall to see if we can locate the blueprints of the theater. There might be a hidden room we haven’t searched.”
    The telephone rang, but Nancy knew that Hannah would answer it. A few seconds later Hannah ran up the stairs and knocked on Nancy’s door.
    “It’s for you, Nancy. It’s some man, but he wouldn’t say who.”
    “Thanks, Hannah.” Nancy raced to the phone. “Hello?”
    “I have a suggestion that might help you with your investigation,” the voice said in a raspy whisper.
    “Who are you? Are you the one who took Bess?”
    Nancy frantically grabbed a pencil and began scribbling with her left hand on a nearby notepad. She wrote, “Trace call. Dad’s study phone.” Then she shoved the note into George’s hand.
    “It doesn’t matter who I am or if I have her,” the man said. “Do you want the suggestion or not?”
    “I’ll gladly accept any help you can give me,” she said, trying to prolong the conversation.
    “Okay. I’m only going to say this once. Takeanother look at your list of suspects. You haven’t considered everyone who has a vested interest in the theater.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Exactly what I said.”
    “Just tell me one thing,” Nancy