Diamond Deceit (6 page)

Nancy instinctively jerked the car to the right to avoid a collision. In that instant she got a dizzying glimpse of the rocky beach and water far below. She heard George gasp as she slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel to the left and away from the cliff's edge.

The wheels screeched as the car skidded out of control. Nancy felt the bump as the car jumped onto the narrow shoulder.

They were headed toward the edge of the drop-off!

N
ANCY
'
S HEART LEAPT
into her throat as she pulled the wheel left with all her strength and continued to pump the brakes. Please,
please
don't go over the edge! she begged silently.

For one awful moment the car continued to skid toward the cliff's edge. Then the brakes finally held, and the car shuddered to a stop.

Nancy's legs felt like jelly as she backed onto the road and drove to the next overlook. She pulled in and parked beside an empty car. Falling forward, she rested her head against the steering wheel and took in deep breaths of air to still her pounding heart.

“That was a close one,” George said, slowly relaxing her grip on the dashboard. After opening her purse George fumbled around in it.

“That truck had a logo painted on the side—a
pine tree, very stylized,” she said, pulling out an envelope and a pen. With a shaky hand she began to sketch a pine tree, its branches curved and capped with white, like ocean waves.

“I couldn't read the name, but I figure someone will know who the truck belongs to if we show them this picture,” George continued, holding the drawing out to Nancy. “It makes me really mad when people drive so recklessly. I'm turning this guy in.”

“It was a guy?” Nancy asked. “I didn't have time to glance at the driver. It took everything I had just to keep the car on the road.”

“To tell you the truth, I'm really not sure,” George said. She smiled weakly. “That was pretty fancy driving, Drew.”

Nancy shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if the car had continued its slide off the road. She took another deep breath, then checked her watch. “We'd better get going. It's ten o'clock now.”

Checking for traffic, Nancy pulled back onto the road. A few moments later George pointed and said, “That must be Joanna Burton's. See those black wrought-iron gates?”

Just up ahead Nancy saw the iron gates. She pulled up in front of them to lean out the window and press the intercom button. When there was no answer, she pressed again.

“Maybe this thing doesn't work,” she said.

Getting out of the car, Nancy tested the gate. It
was locked. Once more she tried the intercom. “Miss Burton? It's Nancy Drew,” she said into the speaker, although there was no indication that she'd made a connection. After waiting a few more minutes, she tried again. No answer once more.

Just then a small, fluffy white dog raced up to the fence, poked its nose through the iron bars, and started yapping loudly.

“What a darling dog!” George exclaimed, getting out of the car and squatting down in front of it. The dog ceased its racket, sniffed George's hand, and began to whine.

“Something's not right,” Nancy said, looking through the gate at the house. “We had an appointment with Miss Burton. And this dog almost seems scared—”

The piercing sound of an approaching siren interrupted Nancy's thoughts, and in the next minute a small white car with flashing lights pulled up behind their car.

Nancy was surprised to see Morgan Fowler get out of the car. “Could I see some identification, please?” he asked.

“Morgan, it's Nancy Drew. We met last night, remember?” Nancy said. “Marcia Cheung introduced us. This is my friend George Fayne.”

Recognition shone in Morgan's aqua eyes. “Nancy. The detective?” Morgan let go with one of his smiles. Holding out his hand to George, he said, “Nice to meet you.”

Then his expression grew serious. “One of the neighbors called in to report two loiterers at Miss Burton's gate. Part of our service is to make sure no one bothers our clients,” Morgan said.

“Nancy had an appointment to meet with Miss Burton, but the intercom isn't working, and the gate's locked,” George explained.

“You must be pulling a double shift,” Nancy said as Morgan tried the intercom button, too. “Last night and again this morning?”

Morgan nodded. “We rotate days, evenings, nights. I got stuck with a shift change without any time off in between,” he said.

A third car, a sleek silver sports car, pulled up, then stopped. A tall woman with red hair done up in a smart French twist stepped out of the car. She was dressed in a navy suit and a red silk blouse. “What's going on here?” she asked, her hazel eyes flitting from Morgan to the two girls.

“Stephanie! What a nice surprise.” Morgan quickly held out his hand to the attractive woman.

Stephanie ignored the outstretched hand. “Who are these people?”

Nancy wondered the same thing about Stephanie. Who was she to be asking so many questions? And how did Morgan know her? Judging from her expensive clothes, Stephanie wasn't household help. Perhaps she was Miss Burton's lawyer.

Morgan quickly introduced Nancy and
George. “They had an appointment this morning with Joanna. But the intercom isn't working, and the gate's locked,” he explained.

“Open it,” Stephanie told him.

“I'm not supposed to do that,” Morgan said, hesitating.

“Something could have happened to Joanna. Open the gate,” Stephanie insisted.

Morgan leaned in and removed a clipboard from his car. He flipped through the papers, then went back to the gate and punched some numbers into the keypad set into it. The iron doors opened.

Without so much as a glance at anyone else, Stephanie got into her sports car and drove through. Nancy quickly jumped into her car and followed before anyone could tell her not to. George stopped and picked up the dog, carrying it with her up to the house.

The house was Spanish style with a red-tile roof and dark red trim, Nancy saw when she joined George at the front door. She was surprised to note that the paint on the trim was peeling.

“What do you need to see my client about?” Stephanie asked, appearing next to Nancy and George.

“I'm investigating a claim Miss Burton made regarding a diamond necklace,” Nancy said.

“Are you with the insurance company?” Stephanie asked.

Nancy didn't want to lie, but she had no reason to tell this woman anything, either. “I'm sorry, but I don't believe I caught your name,” Nancy said, dodging the question.

“This is Stephanie Cooke, Nancy,” Morgan supplied. He had driven his car inside the gates, too. “You've probably heard of her. She's Joanna's agent—one of the best in Hollywood.”

Stephanie gave the girls a stiff smile before ringing the front bell. When no one answered, she tried the door, but it was locked. “I drove all the way here from L.A. this morning. Joanna didn't say a word about going out, and she usually tells me everything,” Stephanie said, obviously concerned.

“I don't have a key to the door,” Morgan said.

Stephanie poked in her purse. “I don't have mine with me, either.” Stephanie pressed her lips together, then turned and headed for the garage. “I think I know where she keeps an extra key hidden. Let me go in and see what's going on.”

“Maybe I'd better call this in to Seaside Security,” Morgan said, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

Stephanie waved away the idea. “Let's check it out ourselves first in case she's just sleeping in.”

The agent disappeared around the corner of the house, and a few minutes later the front door opened and Stephanie appeared. “There was a key in the garage,” she announced.

“Doesn't Miss Burton have a housekeeper or
something?” Nancy asked as they stepped into the foyer. “This is an awfully large house for her to take care of by herself.”

“A woman comes in a couple of times a week to clean,” Stephanie said. “Joanna doesn't need full-time help.”

The agent pointed to a set of French Doors at the opposite end of a huge sunken living room. “Why don't you three go out on the terrace and wait?” she said in a tone that left no room for argument. “There's a wonderful view. I'll find Joanna and tell her you're here.” With that, Stephanie disappeared up a set of stairs.

As Nancy stepped down into the living room she saw that it was much less lavish than she had expected. The main feature was a stone fireplace that dominated one wall. The rest of the room was sparsely furnished in a style that Nancy remembered had been popular a number of years earlier. The furniture was in good shape but a little dated.

Morgan remained inside while Nancy opened the French doors and stepped out onto the terrace. George followed, still holding the fluffy white dog that had run up to them at the gate. The dog jumped out of George's arms as soon as she walked outside.

“Check out this view!” George exclaimed softly.

Nancy had to agree that it was spectacular. A set of steps was cut into the hillside leading down
to a small crescent of beach. Beyond, the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, sparkling in the bright sunlight.

Glancing back into the house, Nancy saw that Stephanie had returned to the living room and was now deep in conversation with Morgan.

“It looks as if Joanna's been here this morning,” George said. She had stepped up to a glass-topped table shaded by a red umbrella. “Here's a carafe of coffee and two cups with coffee in them.”

Nancy touched one of the cups. “It's still warm,” she said. “So where's Miss Burton? And who was drinking coffee with her?”

Something about the scene made Nancy very uneasy. The dog was still edgy and whined as it sniffed around the terrace.

“Nancy, look down there, over by those rocks. Are those sea otters?” George asked.

Following George's gaze, Nancy spotted the brown animals swimming among the rocks. “They're adorable,” Nancy said, her mind still on Joanna Burton.

“Let's go take a closer look at the otters,” George said, starting down the steep steps. “Maybe Joanna Burton went for a walk on the beach, and we'll run into her.”

Nancy hesitated. “Okay.” She finally gave in. “But let's go for just a minute, okay?”

George was halfway down the steps when she
stopped suddenly, causing Nancy to bump into her.

“Uh, no!” George exclaimed. There was no mistaking the note of alarm in her voice. “Nancy, look down there.” She pointed down to the beach at the foot of the wooden staircase.

The first thing Nancy saw was a swirl of hot pink fabric. Then she caught sight of the dark hair and the outstretched, immobile hand.

The realization hit her in a sickening flash. A woman's body lay crumpled at the bottom of the steps!

N
ANCY
'
S STOMACH
twisted into a tight knot as she stared down at the inert form. All at once she leapt into action.

“Quick. Go get Stephanie and Morgan, and then phone for help,” she said to George.

As George eased past Nancy back up the stairs Nancy hurried down to the beach. When she reached the sand she definitely recognized Joanna Burton's lovely features, with her high, delicate brows. There was no blood on her, but the woman's neck was bent at an odd angle. Just looking at it made Nancy's stomach flip.

Kneeling beside the actress, Nancy felt for a pulse. There was none.

She sat back on her heels and took a deep breath. “Stay calm, Drew,” she told herself. It
wasn't easy. The actress's dog had followed Nancy down the stairs and was now whining pitifully.

Trying not to look at Joanna Burton's neck, Nancy quickly looked for some clue to what had happened. The side seam of the actress's beach wrap was ripped and hanging loose at one side. Her right hand was tightly clenched, but Nancy couldn't tell if she was holding anything in it.