Danger on Parade (5 page)

“If you're as good a detective as your aunt says you are, I feel better already,” Jill said, smiling at Nancy. “I'll give you any help I can, but please keep this quiet. I'd like to keep this away from the press. Any bad publicity would really hurt the parade.”

Suddenly a forceful female voice spoke up
from behind Nancy and Jill. “Okay, Jillie, what trouble are you causing now?”

Nancy turned to see an attractive woman enter the cosmetics lab. Her jet black hair was swept back into a french twist, and she was wearing a stylish navy blue suit with big buttons.

“Hi, Aileen,” Jill said. “Aileen Nash, this is Nancy Drew. Aileen is a reporter for Channel Seven news, and she also happens to be my good friend from high school. What are you doing here?”

“I heard about the break-in over my handy-dandy police radio,” Aileen explained. “Since I'm covering the parade, I figured I'd better get over here.” She tapped a laminated card with her picture on it that was clipped to her lapel. “Thanks to the temporary pass you gave me, the guard let me in.”

“This is Aileen's third year covering the parade,” Jill explained to Nancy. “She's doing a week-long series of stories about the preparations.”

“So what's going on? Explosion this morning, break-in this evening. Is there anything I should know about?” Aileen waved in the direction of the outside door. “By the way, I should warn you there are more reporters out there.”

Nancy listened as Jill told her friend all that had happened. “But that's off the record, Aileen,” Jill said firmly. “I don't want any of this in your reports on the parade.” She started
resolutely down the hallway toward the exit. “Now I'll give you and the rest of your colleagues the official version of the story,” she said over her shoulder to Aileen.

Nancy followed the two women outside, where a dozen reporters and a handful of cameramen stood poised on the sidewalk. As soon as Jill appeared, the cameramen trained their bright lights on her and started their cameras rolling.

“Hello, everyone. I'm Jill Johnston. I'm in charge of Mitchell's Thanksgiving Day parade,” Jill began.

Nancy was impressed by how confident Jill sounded. She didn't reveal any of the worry Nancy knew she must be feeling. Jill went on to say that the guard had reported a break-in when he had seen doors to a restricted area open. She speculated that perhaps the doors weren't working properly due to the explosion.

“What about the explosion?” one of the reporters called out.

“The police are still investigating, but there are no leads yet,” Jill answered. “Luckily there were no serious injuries or damage. Any other questions will be taken by my office in the morning. Thank you.”

The lights on the cameras clicked off, and the reporters dispersed, murmuring among themselves. From what Nancy could tell, they seemed to accept Jill's explanation.

Jill, Nancy, and Aileen made their way back down the warehouse hallway to Jill's office. The shattered glass had been swept up, Nancy saw, and plywood had been nailed over the windows to keep out the cold. However, the smell of smoke was very strong.

“I almost wish Neil had kept this job another year,” Jill said as she collapsed in one of the chairs.

Nancy gave Jill a curious look. “He used to be in charge of the parade?” she asked.

“He had the job for two years,” Aileen explained. “This year Jill beat him out for the top position.” Raising an eyebrow at Nancy, she added, “Between you and me, I like working with Jill much better. Neil wouldn't even let me into the parade studio—said it would ruin the surprise.”

“He actually seems happier this year,” Jill said. “I can understand why. Entertaining the parade's special guests sure beats handling all the problems I've had to cope with.”

Aileen wagged a finger at Jill. “Oh, come on. You know that heading the parade means that the higher-ups have confidence in you. If it goes off well, you'll be in a good position to become the vice president of public relations.”

“Do you think it's possible that Neil is resentful that you got the job and he's trying to make things difficult?” Nancy asked, thinking out loud.

Jill shook her head. “Neil's been nothing but a help. I couldn't have gotten through the explosion without him,” she said.

Just then one of the guards knocked at the door and told Aileen that her crew was ready to leave. As the reporter said goodbye and left the office, Nancy looked at her watch.

“It's almost nine o'clock,” she told Jill. “Are you going to the party at Morelli's? I'm supposed to meet Bess there.”

Jill got to her feet and let out a deep sigh. “I'm not in much of a party mood, but I guess the head of the parade should put in an appearance,” she said. “Let's go.”

• • •

Morelli's was an Italian bistro with an espresso bar and several tables arranged around a large dance floor. The iron-backed chairs reminded Nancy of the outdoor cafés in Europe. Waiters in short, tight-fitting red jackets glided among the maze of tables holding trays of delicious-looking food over their heads. Red lights shone down on the crowded dance floor, and rock music vibrated through the room. A curved staircase rose up to a balcony overlooking the dance floor.

Nancy spotted Bess at a large, crowded table near the staircase, talking to Greg. “Nancy! Jill!” Bess shouted, waving at them. “I thought you'd never get here!”

Nancy slipped into an empty seat at the table
as Jill went over to talk to Neil, who was standing by the stairs.

“These are some of the other parade guests,” Greg told her, gesturing to the people seated at the table. He introduced the model Lauren Brown, Marshall Garton, the Olympic skier, and Pam Hart, the actress.

Nancy couldn't help being awed. Turning to Pam, who was sitting closest to her, Nancy said, “I loved your last movie.”

“Thanks,” Pam replied, smiling. “I'm working on the sequel now.”

“Oh, Nancy, look what I bought at Mitchell's before we came here.” Bess tapped a multicolored silk scarf that was knotted around her neck. “Neil and Greg insisted that I splurge.”

“It's beautiful,” Nancy told her. She looked up as Neil and Jill joined them.

“Okay, everyone, it's time to boogie!” Neil said. He grabbed Nancy's hand and led her to the dance floor.

Before Nancy knew it, everyone from the table was moving to the music. She smiled as she saw Greg twirl Bess around. Obviously Bess's thoughts were on romance, not mystery, tonight. Even Jill seemed to be having a good time. Nancy relaxed and let the music take over, pushing all thoughts of the explosion and break-in from her mind.

• • •

“I don't know, Nancy. It sounds dangerous,” Eloise Drew said the next morning. She and Nancy were cleaning up the breakfast dishes in the small kitchen of her apartment in Greenwich Village.

Nancy had just filled her aunt in on her plan to go talk to Louis Clark. She was struck by how much her aunt looked like her father, Carson Drew. They had the same lustrous brown hair and elegant features. But at the moment, her aunt's forehead was wrinkled with worry lines.

“I have to start somewhere. It's already Tuesday, and Louis Clark is my only suspect right now,” Nancy explained.

“Can't you just enjoy Thanksgiving without all of this detective stuff?” Eloise asked. Then she chuckled and added, “Of course you can't. You're Nancy Drew.”

She smiled and kissed Nancy on the cheek. “What should I tell Bess when she wakes up?”

Nancy started for the hall closet to get her coat. “I'll probably be back before then!”

Nancy took a taxi to Clark's Department Store, which was located just a few blocks south of Mitchell's on Broadway. She stopped at the information desk on the ground floor and learned that Louis Clark's office was on the seventh floor, so Nancy took the escalator.

Unlike Mitchell's offices, Clark's were on the same floor as one of the selling areas. They were set apart only by a hallway stretching back from
the housewares department. At the end of the hall was an open area with a reception desk. A gray-haired woman sat at the desk.

“Can I help you?” she said.

Nancy took a deep breath. She hoped the story she had thought up would be enough to get her an interview with Louis Clark. She had worn a nice pair of tan pants and a blue blazer so she would appear more professional.

“Hi. I'm from
The New York Times,”
she fibbed, mentally crossing her fingers. “I know I should have called first, but I was passing by and thought I'd take a chance that he'd be in. I'd like to interview him for a feature we're doing on leading figures in New York commerce.”

The woman gave Nancy an appraising look, then buzzed Mr. Clark's office. She spoke into the phone briefly, then hung up and turned to Nancy again.

“Mr. Clark has a meeting, but he can spare a few minutes for you. I'll take you back. His secretary is out sick.” The receptionist ushered Nancy into a big office. A short, balding man sat behind a wide mahogany desk, chomping on a cigar. Nancy did a double take when she saw what was sticking out of his breast pocket. It was a white handkerchief with the letters L.C. embroidered on it!

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Nancy began, sitting in one of the two upholstered chairs in front of the desk.

Louis smiled at her. “Always glad to oblige the press,” he said.

And get publicity for your store, Nancy added silently. She started by asking a few simple questions, and soon Louis Clark was telling her the story of how his grandfather founded the store and built it up to be the best in New York.

While he spoke, Nancy glanced surreptitiously around his office. She didn't see anything that could link him to either the break-in or the explosion at Mitchell's Brooklyn warehouse—not that she would expect him to leave evidence lying in plain sight. She decided to try and goad him into making a slip.

“And is Clark's still number one?” she asked, pretending to take notes. “I've heard some people say that the Thanksgiving Day parade gives Mitchell's an advantage.”

Louis Clark's face turned bright red at the mention of his competition. “I don't think so,” he said, looking at her suspiciously. “Why are you asking this?”

“I'm just trying to get a sense of how you deal with your competition, Mr. Clark,” Nancy told him.

“How— Why, you—” Louis pushed his chair back and stood up abruptly. “Get out!” he shouted angrily. “I don't know who you think you are, but if I ever see you around my store again, I'll ruin you
and
the Mitchell's Thanksgiving Day parade!”

N
ANCY STARED BLANKLY
at Louis Clark. I sure found his sore spot, she thought.

Nancy quickly stood, mumbled an apology, and left the office. She was deep in thought as she rode the escalator down to the main floor. It was obvious that Louis Clark considered the Mitchell's Thanksgiving parade a huge thorn in his side. The question was, would he really make good on his threat to ruin it?

She still needed solid proof that he was behind the break-in and sabotage, but the handkerchief was a good start. She would have to find a way to make a more complete search of his office.

Nancy stepped outside onto the noisy street and walked to the subway entrance nearby. She bought a token and consulted the subway map to see which train would take her closest to her
aunt's apartment. The downtown train she got on was crowded. The bright orange seats were all taken, but Nancy didn't mind standing. There were so many different people to look at—from teenagers with hair dyed purple and blue to businessmen with briefcases—that the ride passed quickly.

Before she knew it, she had reached her stop in Greenwich Village and was being swept upstairs to the street in the flow of people. A few minutes later, she was back at her aunt's.

“Nancy, I went out for a walk, and I saw the cutest shirt. You have to see it,” Bess said as Nancy walked into the living room. Bess was sitting on the couch, sipping a glass of juice. She was wearing a black jeans skirt with a red sweater tucked into it, red wool tights, and short black boots.

“Did you have any luck at Louis Clark's office?” Eloise called from the kitchen. Normally she would have been at work, but because of Bess and Nancy's visit, she had taken off the three days before Thanksgiving.

“I may have found who's been trying to wreck the parade,” Nancy announced, sitting down on the couch next to Bess.

Bess sat up straight. “Who?”

The night before, Nancy had told Bess about the break-in at the warehouse. Now she related what had happened during the fake interview she
had conducted that morning. When she was done, Bess let out a sigh of relief.

“Nancy, thank goodness! I mean, I've been trying to have a good time, but I was scared I was going to go to jail.”