Free The Swami's Ring by Carolyn Keene

they asked Nancy about her plans for the rest of the day.
    “As a matter of fact,” she said, “I haven’t any—”
    “I don’t believe it,” Bess said.
    “Other than visiting Tommy, calling Angela Pruett, hunting for Phyllis, and—”
    “St-o-p!” George teased, putting her hands over her ears. “Don’t you ever take a break?”
    “Oh, sure.” Nancy laughed. “I was just going to ask if you’d like to see Oklahoma tonight? The Jansen Theater Troupe is putting it on.”
    “I’d love to,” Bess said happily, “and maybe Dave would.”
    “How about the six of us going together?” George put in.
    Nancy nodded in agreement, asking the cousins to check with their friends Dave Evans and Burt Eddleton while she called Ned.
    “Can you make reservations, too?” she asked the girls.
    “No problem,” Bess said. “Talk to you later.”
    “‘Bye,” Nancy replied, heading her car for Rosemont Hospital and a quick visit with Tommy Johnson.
    To her amazement and delight, she found him walking in a leg cast with the aid of crutches.
    “You’ll be out of here in no time,” she said to the little boy.
    “I hope so,” he declared, smiling. “There’s nobody to play with around here.”
    He lay the crutches against his bed, allowing Nancy to help him up.
    “Well, what about me?” she asked, pretending to pout.
    “You’re different, Nancy,” he said. “Everybody else just wants to take my temperature.”
    The girl laughed, opening a small shopping bag and peering inside with great relish.
    “What’s in there?” Tommy said eagerly.
    Nancy strung out the surprise until she thought the boy would jump out of bed. “Here you are,” the girl said, producing a toy racing car.
    “Zowie!” Tommy cried happily. He ran the tiny wheels up and down his cast, then over the mattress, onto the night table, and back again.
    Nancy giggled. “I’m sure your doctor never dreamed that cast would turn into a racetrack!”
    When she left the boy’s room, he was still playing with the car, rumbling like an engine, and laughing in between.
    “I’ll be back,” the girl told him, though she wasn’t sure when her next visit would be.
    She stopped by the nurses’ station to leave a message for Lisa Scotti, and was pleased to find her friend there in person.
    “The strangest thing happened this morning,” Lisa whispered to Nancy. “We got a phone call from someone who said his name was Cliff.”
    “You’re kidding!” Nancy replied.
    “Of course, I was positive it was some crackpot,” Lisa went on.
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Because I knew Cliff was staying at your house.”
    “Not anymore,” Nancy said, revealing the full story.
    Lisa was completely shocked, saying she wouldn’t have bothered to tell Nancy about the call except that she had stopped by the hospital.
    “Oh, Lisa, you must tell me everything that happens if it’s pertinent to Cliffs case.”
    “Now that I think about it,” Lisa said, “the voice did sound like Cliffs, but I can’t be certain. There was a lot of static in the background.”
    “What did he say?” Nancy questioned.
    “Not much, really, but it had something to do with singing.”
    “Singing or the name Singh?”
    Lisa shrugged. “As I said, the voice wasn’t too clear.”
    If only the young nurse had known about the disappearance, Nancy thought, she might have tried to trace the phone call.
    Thinking of missed opportunities, Nancy decided to try contacting Angela Pruett again. The telephone seemed to be working, but the harpist was not home—all the more reason, Nancy mused, why she should attend the performance at the River Heights Theater that night.
    Nancy spoke briefly to Ned, who had already heard from the other Emerson boys, and despite a minor problem that had to do with the availability of a car for the evening, everyone had decided to meet at the Drew home.
    The sky had thickened with clouds and there was the promise of another rainstorm.
    “Don’t