Shadow of a Doubt (5 page)

I
NSIDE HER CAR
Nancy was thrown forward. But before she hit the steering wheel, Nancy saw she was flying straight for a grove of trees. If she plowed into it, she was dead.

Nancy yanked her seat belt free, wrestled the door open, and threw herself out of the car as her beloved Mustang crashed into the trees.

Whew! Nancy thought. That was about as close a call as she'd ever like to make. She pulled herself to her feet and checked to make sure she didn't have any broken bones.

Still a little wobbly and shaking inside, Nancy walked gingerly over to her car. What she saw made her very unhappy. The whole
front end of the Mustang was smashed. She leaned against the wrecked car and thought.

Whoever did this knew who she was and was serious about keeping her out of action. She could easily have been killed.

Still, she couldn't let anyone stop her—especially not now. More determined than ever, she made her way back up to the highway to try to hitch a ride into town. Accident or no accident, she was going to have her little chat with Dennis Allard.

• • •

Back in the center of River Heights, Nancy called George. After her recent experience, she decided she needed help. Having Bess and George along would give Nancy another perspective when she met with Dennis Allard.

“Hello?” Nancy let out a relieved sigh when she heard George's voice on the line. At least something was going right: George was at home.

“George, it's Nancy. Listen, I need your help.”

“Sure, Nancy. What's up?” George asked.

“I had a little accident—”

“What happened?” George interrupted. “Are you all right?”

Nancy tried to keep her voice calm. She didn't want to worry her friend. “I'm fine. If you pick me up, I'll explain everything.”

“Where are you?” Nancy gave her the address
of the gas station where she had gone to arrange to have her car towed.

“Please bring Bess along. I've got an errand to run and I'd appreciate your help.”

“No problem. We'll be there in ten minutes.” George said goodbye and hung up.

Nancy wandered over to the mechanic who was checking out her car. It had just been lowered off the tow truck.

“It's not going to be cheap,” he said, shaking his head.

“I think you're probably right,” Nancy said. “How long is it going to take to fix it?”

“Depends. Probably we'll have to wait for the parts. I'd say you'll be living without it for at least two weeks.”

The mechanic looked Nancy over for the first time, taking in her dusty jeans and grass-stained sweater. “You don't look so good yourself. You sure you're okay?”

Nancy smiled wanly. “I'm sure,” she said. “But I guess I could use a little cleaning up.”

Nancy headed for the restroom. There she wiped off her jeans and decided to put on a jacket to hide the worst stains. After combing her hair, fixing her eye makeup, and putting on a fresh coat of lip gloss, she decided she looked respectable enough to see Dennis Allard.

Within a few minutes George swung into the gas station.

“What's going on?” Bess asked, leaning forward
to let Nancy into the backseat. She had seen the smashed Mustang parked nearby.

“Someone ran me off the road,” Nancy explained.

George let out a whistle. “When did that happen?”

“Just an hour ago.” She gave George the address of the River Heights Bank and Trust. “Let's get going. I want to see Dennis Allard. I'll tell you all about it on the way over.”

During the ride Nancy told Bess and George about her morning with Chris and Kate Gleason, and her run-in with the silver sports car.

“Sounds like someone doesn't want you to get too close,” George said when Nancy had finished.

“I think you're right,” Nancy agreed.

“Any idea who it could be?” Bess asked.

Nancy shook her head. “Not yet. That's part of the reason I want to meet with Allard.”

“I don't get it, Nan,” Bess said as George parked the car in front of Allard's bank. “Why do you think he can help?”

Nancy waited until they were out of the car to answer. “I'm not sure I can trust Chris and Kate. I get the feeling there's something they're not telling me.

“And I don't know who really is innocent. Meanwhile, Allard does know the case inside
and out, so maybe he can give me some idea of what kind of person Robert Gleason really was.”

“Good thinking,” George said as they headed for the bank.

Within a few minutes, Nancy, Bess, and George were sitting in Dennis Allard's office. Nancy broke the news about Robert Gleason's death as gently as possible. The two had worked together, and she didn't know how upset Allard might get.

“I always knew he was unstable,” Dennis Allard said. “But I would never have predicted . . .” He didn't finish the sentence.

Nancy looked at the man carefully. He was even more handsome in person than in his photograph. His nearly black hair had a touch of gray at the temples, and there were only the beginnings of lines around his startlingly blue eyes. Allard's navy pinstripe suit fit neatly over his athletic body.

“How well did you know Gleason?” Nancy asked. “Did he seem like the type to—”

“Never,” Allard said, guessing at what Nancy would say. “But I didn't know him all that well. We worked together at the law firm for about a year before the lawsuit.” Allard paused for a second, then rubbed his cheek.

Nancy, Bess, and George waited expectantly for Allard to continue.

“There is one thing that might help you,” he went on. “When the job of senior accountant came up, Gleason was sure that he'd get the promotion.”

“What happened?” George asked.

“The firm gave it to me instead,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. “Gleason wasn't too thrilled. He seemed to have been counting on it.”

“Do you think he held a grudge against you?” Nancy asked.

“He certainly seemed to. When the case came to trial, he tried all kinds of ways to pin the blame on me.”

“But from what Nancy's dad said, it was pretty clear he did it,” Bess said.

Allard smiled. “Luckily, justice was served.” He looked at Nancy. “I'm very grateful to your father for what he did. It was only because of his defense that I was able to preserve my career.”

Nancy stood up, ready to leave. “There's just one more question,” she said.

“Yes?” Allard asked.

“What do you think happened to the money? It was never found, you know.”

“It is strange, don't you think?” George put in.

“Yes, it is,” Allard said with a nod. “But my theory is that Gleason hid it away very carefully. He was probably going to claim it soon.”

“That's what Mr. Drew thinks, too,” Bess said.

Nancy shook Allard's hand and thanked him for answering their questions.

“I wish I could have helped more,” Allard said, showing them out of his office. “But in all honesty, I try not to think about that case. It nearly ruined my life.”

Now it might ruin my father's, Nancy thought. “Thanks for your help,” she said, ushering Bess and George into the hall. “We'll let you get back to work.”

• • •

“So what do you think, Nan?” George asked. The three friends were sitting in the Drews' living room, looking at the red date book. They had just returned from renting Nancy a car.

“I don't know,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “Nothing in here tells me anything.” She closed the book and started to talk. “Allard seems honest enough, but he could be playing it cool to see what happens.”

“What I don't understand is why Robert Gleason would have killed himself, if he knew where the money was,” Bess pointed out.

Carson Drew walked into the living room. “What's this about Robert Gleason?” he asked.

“He died this morning, Dad. He may have committed suicide,” Nancy said quietly.

A shocked look passed over Carson's face. “That's terrible,” he murmured softly. “How do you know?”

Nancy explained about her trip to Gleason's building. She was about to tell him about her conversation with Chris and Kate Gleason, but she stopped because her father seemed preoccupied.

“What is it, Dad?” she asked. “You're hardly listening.”

Carson sauntered over to the front window and looked out. “It's just that this is all so awful.”

Nancy exchanged a look with Bess and George, then went over to her father. “There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?”

Carson took a deep breath, then abruptly he spoke up. “Did you see
Today's Times?”
he asked.

Nancy shook her head. Carson left the living room and came back in a minute carrying the River Heights newspaper. Nancy took it from her father.

“Read page two,” he said.

After Nancy opened the paper, Bess and George stood and read over her shoulder. She scanned the page to find out what her father was talking about.

Then she saw it. A small column at the bottom of the page carried a headline, “DA Promises to Reopen Case.” She skimmed the
story. Her father's name leapt out at her, along with the words
suppressing evidence
and
tampering.

Nancy couldn't bring herself to read the whole story. “What does this mean?” she asked. George and Bess looked at Carson expectantly.

“Exactly what it says. The district attorney is threatening to reopen the case against Dennis Allard.”

“But he can't do that!” Nancy said. “Can he?” she added weakly.

“He seems to think he can,” Carson said.

“On what grounds?” George asked.

Carson waited, then took a deep breath. “He's going to bring charges against me for obstructing justice!”

T
HAT'S GOT TO BE
the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard,” George said. “No one would believe you'd obstruct justice!”

Nancy watched as her father managed a small smile. She couldn't believe this was happening. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, George,” Carson said.

“You have mine, too, Mr. Drew,” Bess added, putting her hand on his arm. Then she turned to her cousin. “I think you and I should go, George. We'll see you later, Nan.”

Nancy followed them to the front door and out to George's car, in the driveway.

“I wish there were something we could do, Nancy,” Bess said, slipping into the passenger seat.

“I do, too,” Nancy answered. “But I've got to find out what's going on, and why.”

“Let me guess,” George said, leaning over Bess. “You were thinking you might just be able to help your father if you could talk to the district attorney.”

“I guess we've known each other too long.” Nancy smiled. “I
would
like to know why he's doing this. And who put him up to it.”

“Don't get in over your head, and call us if you need help,” George said as she put her car into reverse, getting ready to back out of the Drews' driveway.

“Don't worry about me,” Nancy said. “I'll be all right. It's my father I'm worried about.” With that, she headed back inside.

Carson Drew was on the phone, and Nancy could hear only his end of the conversation.

“I'll do that,” he was saying. “No, I don't think it's necessary. Fine. Call me tomorrow.”

“Who was that, Dad?” Nancy asked.

“A colleague of mine. I thought I'd better call him,” Carson answered.

“Dad, this is more serious than you're letting on, isn't it?”

Nancy saw her father hesitate before he answered her. There were lines of worry
around his eyes and mouth. It wasn't the first time he had tried to protect her or prevent her from getting involved in a case. But it would be worse than maddening if he wouldn't let her help him this time. It could be disastrous.

“You've got to let me help you,” she began. “I can't just sit still while someone tries to destroy your career.”

Carson Drew went over to his daughter and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I know you want to help,” he said, “but there's nothing you can do. If the district attorney wants to reopen the case, he can if he has enough evidence to support his claims.”

“And does he?” Nancy asked.

“I don't know. I'm not even sure what he's basing his accusations on. But there's got to be something. If only I knew what it was . . .”

Carson stepped away from Nancy and sat down on the couch. He leaned over, rested his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together.

“Please, Dad,” Nancy begged, “you've got to let me help you. There must be something we can do.” She thought for a moment. “Who might have gone to the DA? He wouldn't have thought to reopen this case on his own, would he?”