Nancy Clue Mysteries 3 - A Ghost in the Closet (24 page)

"Those extra cream-cheese jelly-nut sandwiches sure came in handy," Midge grinned. They stood back as Jackie used the butt of her gun to smash a first floor window. "Let's hurry before those dogs finish that sack lunch," Jackie proposed as she looked over her shoulder. The two German shepherds were fighting over a butter split hard roll, but they wouldn't be for long!

"And my new handcuffs were just what we needed for that guard," Midge added. "Although it's a darn shame to waste a perfectly good set of cuffs like that."

"You have more at home, honey," Velma consoled her.

Jackie gave a little laugh, put her jacket on the window ledge to guard against shards of glass and pulled herself over. Midge helped Velma through, then pulled herself up. "We broke into this place in record time and with no casualties," Jackie praised them.

"Except that guard," Midge smiled.

"He'll be okay once someone gets him out of that tree," Jackie assured her. They were in a room filled with comfortable plaidcovered furniture and a fully stocked bar. "This must be Myra's play room," Midge remarked as she took a look at the plaques covering one wall. "Wow. She's the head of the Literary Society, the Etiquette Club, the Dramatic Club and the Wives of the Atomic Age. Oh, and she volunteers at the River Depths Sanitarium," Midge added. She read a plaque aloud:

"-and it's signed, Dr. Fraud, River Depths Sanitarium."

Awarded to Mrs. Myra Meeks for her meritorious service as A Friend of the Insane

"I hope Myra Meeks doesn't go there today. Why, she might blow Nancy's cover," Jackie said worriedly. "Let's get to the cellar and find that tunnel entrance." They raced out of the den and were halfway through the living room when they heard the front door open.

"Quick," Jackie whispered as she pointed to a door. "Let's hide in here!" They found themselves in a closet practically bursting with fur coats. Leaving the door open a crack, they listened in nervous anticipation as someone entered the house and walked across the marble flooring of the hallway.

"There's two of them," Velma whispered in a barely audible tone. "One is wearing wingtips and the other is in high heels. Three-inch spikes with a very narrow toe."

Midge and Jackie exchanged worried looks. Could it be that Myra Meeks and her husband had come home? The footsteps abruptly stopped. The intruders were mere feet from the girls!

"Good thing my mother's not home," they heard a girl exclaim. "Funny, though, there's usually a guy with a gun out there."

Midge's mouth dropped open. Why, it was Myra Meeks' daughter, Micky Meeks, who had proven such a help in their last mystery. "Phew," Midge thought.

"Does your mother always have a guard?" Micky's feminine companion asked.

"My mother's really paranoid," Micky chuckled. "She thinks there's a communist hiding behind every bush." A hifi was switched on and soft music filled the room. "I didn't come here to talk about my mother," Micky said in a low tone. "Let's dance."

"It's Micky Meeks-and she's got a date with her," Midge grinned in admiration. "And it's not even noon!"

Jackie relaxed. She would have jumped a judge if she had to, but she wouldn't have liked explaining it later!

"Should we let Micky know we're here?" Midge wondered.

"Let's wait and see if they go upstairs," Jackie suggested. From the giggles and groans, she suspected it would be just a matter of minutes.

"What do you think, Velma?" Midge asked her girlfriend, who was pressed up against the door peering through the little slit.

"I think Micky's a pretty smooth operator," Velma giggled. "She's already unzipped the back of that girl's dress!"

"We'd better make our presence known," Jackie realized.

"Too late," Velma informed her. "There goes her slip!"

"Oh, Micky, you're such a bad girl!" they heard Micky's date exclaim happily.

"What's happening?" Jackie wondered.

"Do you want details or just the general picture?" Velma grinned back. Then Micky's date moaned, loudly, "Oh, Micky!" and the three chums knew they were going to be in that closet for a while.

Midge blushed hotly as she tried not to listen to the ardent lovemaking happening just feet away. Twenty uncomfortable minutes passed. "Think they'd notice if I had a cigarette?" Midge wondered.

Velma peeked out the door. "I don't think those two would notice an earthquake," she replied.

"I say we make a run for it," Jackie proposed after taking a look for herself. All she could see were two sets of feet dangling over the edge of the high-backed davenport. "Here's the plan. If we crawl out of here and stay low, I think we can get to the hallway."

"I'm game," Midge said. "I don't know about you two, but it's getting awfully hot in here!"

The three chums made sure to keep their heads down as they crawled past the sofa to the hallway and into the kitchen. They found the cellar door not a minute too soon, for just as it closed behind, them they heard a girl scamper into the kitchen.

"This isn't a cellar-this is a bomb shelter!" Velma gasped when they had tumbled down the narrow stairs and switched on the light. They looked around the utilitarian cement-floored room with its stainless steel miniaturized kitchen appliances, narrow cots and simple shelves loaded with canned goods, a battery-operated radio, walkie-talkies, the complete Reader's Digest Condensed Books series and board games.

"These walls are steel-reinforced concrete," Jackie reported. "This isn't a simple cellar converted into a bomb shelter; this is a feat of modern engineering. Look at the ceiling-it's also made of steel. The Meekses really are expecting an attack here in central Illinois!"

"The bomb they're detonating must be huge," Velma said in awe.

"You don't think-Judge Meeks wouldn't dare drop the bomb-would he?" Midge gasp incredulously.

"Not even Meeks could be that nefarious. Besides, I distinctly heard those thugs discussing dynamite," Jackie assured her.

"Maybe Myra just uses this as her private getaway," Velma suggested hopefully. "After all, here's a year's supply of her famous rose perfume and a five-gallon drum of cold cream. I guess what Cherry says is true. `A girl must always look her best and be prepared for the worst.' "

Midge picked up one of the peculiar-looking silver packages stacked on the shelves. "Not only will Myra look good, she'll eat well, too," she quipped, adding, "I didn't know they made freeze-dried Apple Betty."

Midge read the label aloud. "Contains sugar, bread crumbs, stewed apples, monotrigludimate, phosphorus mon-ogylserine, sodiacarbonate, tartaricerian, cellulosand and other preservatives. Expires August 1974. And look-there's meatloaf, tuna-noodle casserole, chili con came, clam chowder and an assortment of gelatin fruit salads. Serve straight from package." Midge ripped open the chili con came and took a big bite of the rust-colored bar. "Yuck," she said as she spit it out. "Who would eat this stuff?" she wanted to know.

Velma looked queerly at the package in Midge's hand. "Do you see what's stamped on the back? Property of NASA. Midge, this is astronaut food!" she cried.

"Where did Myra Meeks get experimental food meant for use in outer space?" Jackie wondered. "This stuff is strictly top-secret cuisine."

"And how can a government that can't make food taste any better than this put a man on the moon?" Midge grimaced.

"Ssh," Jackie warned her. "I hear footsteps up there. We'd better find that entrance before we're discovered. It may be cleverly disguised," she warned them. "Leave no stone unturned."

"I bet it's behind these shelves," Midge said, "or under these cots. Or behind that green metal cabinet."

As Midge and Jackie grunted and groaned, putting their well-developed muscles to work, Velma said, "Or maybe it's the door over there marked To Tunnel. "

She walked across the room and opened the door to reveal a steep set of stairs carved into rock. Small white lights hung from wires strung along the wall. "Yep, this is it," Velma grinned. "But, brrr," she shivered as a gust of cool air hit her. "It's cold down there."

"Maybe there's something in that cabinet we can put on," Midge said. She opened the door to find a pile of starched white laboratory coats.

"This is odd," Velma pointed out. "If this is Myra's personal bomb shelter, what is she doing with dozens of matching laboratory coats?"

"Maybe she likes to dress up like a scientist," Midge joked as she unfurled one and held it up to herself. Dr. Oskar Ottoman was embroidered in red script above the left breast pocket.

"Isn't Ottoman that rocket scientist who came here after the war?" Jackie remembered. She grabbed a coat. "Dr. Ernst Early. This name rings a bell, too."

"But what do the tunnels have to do with these scientists?" Midge wondered.

"Something very suspicious is going on down there! " Jackie cried.

"Let's disguise ourselves with these coats," Velma proposed. She picked one from the pile and slipped it over her summer frock. "I don't think I look right," she said worriedly as she fussed with her costume.

"Honey, don't belt it like that. It gives you too much of a figure," Midge pointed out. "If anyone's going to believe you're a guy, we'd better fix your hair, too." Midge took a can of pomade from her pocket and got to work. Velma reluctantly wiped off her eyeliner and lipstick.

Midge stepped back and surveyed her girlfriend. With her dark curly hair slicked off her winsome face and the baggy white coat hiding her voluptuous figure, Velma looked like a sweet-faced boy scientist. "You look pretty darn cute like that," Midge had to admit.

"But I have no shape," Velma flushed prettily.

"I know what's under there," Midge murmured as she grabbed the front of Velma's baggy coat, pulled her close and planted a big kiss on her lips. Midge then shrugged into her costume and placed her pack of cigarettes in the plastic pocket protector in the breast pocket of the lab coat. Midge checked Velma one last time and gasped when she realized whose name was on her girlfriend's coat.

"Dr. Fraud!"

"Is there nobody in this town we can trust?" Jackie cried as they raced through the door to the tunnel and started down the stairs.

CHAPTER 38

The Strange Case of
Darcy New

"Dr. Fraud, your new patient is here for her evaluation." The crisp nurse clad in a snowwhite uniform and a jaunty cap hit a switch on the black box on her desk and spoke in clear, concise tones.

"Everyone here is very efficient," Cherry thought in admiration. "And I do so love her unusual round, fluted cap with its midnight blue stripe. I've never seen such a unique design." Cherry was about to ask the Receptionist Nurse where she had received her training, but before she could open her mouth, it was their turn to finally meet the world-famous psychiatrist Dr. Fraud, whose work with unhappy women was known far and wide.

"Doctor will see you now," the nurse told them. Cherry wiped her damp palms on the handkerchief in her pocket and took a deep relaxing breath.

"Leave everything to me," Nancy said with a little wink as they crossed the threshold and stood face to face with the nattily dressed middle-aged man smoking a thick cigar.

"Do you mind the cigar?" was the first thing Dr. Fraud asked them.

"How courteous," Cherry thought, smiling.

"I like the smell of a good cigar," Nancy replied.

"Excellent," the man grinned. "Sit." He gestured toward a thickly-upholstered leather chair facing his desk. "Nurse, take a seat over there," he said, pointing to a wooden straightbacked chair against the wall. "And take notes."

"Yes, Doctor," Cherry demurred. She flipped open her nurse's notebook and poised her pen.

The doctor took his time reading the case history on his desk. Cherry had constructed a psychiatric background for Nancy, one she prayed would hold up under such expert scrutiny. Why, the incomparable Dr. Fraud had studied thousands of women over the years. One flaw in her report and their charade would be over!

"So, Miss New, you're an actress suffering from nerves and you've come to my sanitarium for relief," he finally said. "It says here you suffer from hysterical attacks, mood swings, nervous exhaustion and fainting spells."

Nancy nodded but said nothing. She was watching the doctor watch her. She selected a cigarette from her silver case, put it between her ruby-red lips and waited. The doctor, expressionless, leaned across the desk and offered her a light.

Nancy quickly slipped the silver case back in her purse. She had forgotten her new name when she packed her monogrammed cigarette case! "Thanks," she said in a breezy tone that implied she was accustomed to such treatment. The hand that held the cigarette shook, though, and the doctor made a notation in his report.

Cherry smiled. Nancy had practiced her cool manner and shaky hand all night. Her act as a disaffected actress suffering from a deep-seated nervous disorder was perfectly realized, Cherry thought. She couldn't help but admire the aplomb with which Nancy was handling herself. She realized with a start that Nancy could fool practically anyone into believing practically anything!