The Swami's Ring (10 page)
Authors: Carolyn Keene
“I’d like to see her room, if you don’t mind,” Nancy said.
The woman rolled her tongue over her lips, then drew in air, hesitating to reply.
“You have no objection, do you?” the girl detective continued.
“No, why should I? Except maybe I don’t know if Phyllis would appreciate letting strangers into her room.”
“We’re not really strangers,” Nancy said quickly. “I’m a personal friend of Phyllis’s sister, Angela, and she knows I’m here.”
“Oh, uh-huh.”
Still, the woman hung on the door, allowing less than foot space for anyone to enter. It was true that someone else might have reacted similarly to the girl’s request, but Mrs. Flannery seemed unusually reluctant. Nancy would have inquired about the man whose name was the same as hers, except that she thought it unwise to reveal too much now.
Mrs. Flannery pulled the door back at last.
“Okay, come in,” she said, “but you can’t stay long.”
She led the couple up a stairway and into a corridor that connected to a room at the end. The door was open, and the woman explained the layout.
“She had her own hot plate, as you can see, a small bathroom, bed, stereo, TV—everything she wanted.”
But Nancy was less interested in the furnishings than in the disarray of clothing left on a chair.
“It looks like she left in a hurry,” the girl remarked.
“You think so?” Mrs. Flannery said. “To me, it’s just a typical teenager’s mess.”
Nancy and Ned looked at each other, reserving their answer.
On the desk was a brochure with a photograph of someone attached. Nancy stepped toward it, but Mrs. Flannery sidled in front of it.
“Are you done?” she asked, slipping her hands along the edge of the blotter.
“I’d like to see that pamphlet.” Nancy said.
“Pamphlet? What pamphlet?”
“The one you’re trying to hide, Mrs. Flannery,” Ned replied.
“I’m not doing any such thing,” she sputtered, permitting Nancy to pick up the pamphlet. “I just don’t think it’s right for you to come snooping in here.”
Nancy, in the meantime, was studying the cover, which was entitled,
The Most Important Discovery Of Your Life!
The Most Important Discovery Of Your Life!
Clipped to it was the picture of an aging man in a long, printed tunic. His stringy, gray hair hung sparsely around his wrinkled face. He was painfully thin, perhaps from frequent fasting, and as she read a few short passages inside the booklet, she realized her assumption was correct.
The man was the ascetic whom Phyllis had chosen to follow. He was Ramaswami!
15
Surprise Return
As Nancy gazed at the small photograph, she spoke to Mrs. Flannery. “This must be the retreat that Phyllis went to,” she said, catching the woman’s eyes on hers.
“I suppose so.”
“Do you know how to get there?” Ned asked, hoping she might reveal an easier access than the one they had taken.
“No. I have no interest in the place whatsoever. Never did and never will.”
Nancy, meanwhile, had noticed that there was no specific address given, only a telephone number which she memorized promptly. Aside from that information, there was little else to glean from the pamphlet, so she put it back on the desk.
“Hmm. What’s this?” Nancy murmured, spying the edge of a letter that Phyllis had begun to write.
“Now that’s really prying,” Mrs. Flannery said accusingly, as the girl’s fingers slid the paper out from under another one.
To the girl’s surprise, there was only the greeting to Angela and a half-finished sentence that read,
I have learned something terr—.
I have learned something terr—.
Terrible or terrific? Nancy wondered. And why had Phyllis left the letter unwritten? Had something urgent interrupted her?
She did not voice her thoughts openly until she and Ned were in the car again. Then, the couple discovered they had reached the same conclusion.
“It’s my turn for hunches,” Ned said, “and I think Mrs. Flannery knows more than she’s telling.”
“You get an A-plus.” Nancy grinned. “And I’d like to find out what it is.”
“Well, maybe if we come back in the dead of night and stalk her every move, we’ll be able to—just like that!” Ned snapped his fingers with confidence.
“Not a bad idea,” Nancy said. “Not bad at all.”
“I was only kidding,” her friend replied.
“I know, but I’m not. Maybe we’ll bump into Mr. Flannery again!”
“In that case, maybe we ought to bring a policeman along,” Ned said.
“With me to protect you?” Nancy teased, raising the boy’s eyebrows.
He swung the car onto the street, heading for their next destination, Oberon College. They passed through the busy shopping district into a residential area filled with stately houses. Beyond them was a brown brick wall that surrounded the campus.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it,” Nancy said.
“Not as pretty as Emerson,” Ned replied.
Nancy ignored the touch of sour grapes she detected in her friend’s voice. “I wonder where the professors’ offices are,” she went on, still admiring the roll of green lawn that framed the assortment of buildings.
“Over there,” Ned said. He indicated a small sign with an arrow that was posted near the parking lot.
They left the car and immediately crossed to the building that looked more like a small, Tudor mansion than an office.
“Did you call ahead for an appointment?” Ned asked, suddenly realizing that Nancy had not mentioned any specific time they were to see Dr. DeNiro.
“No, I didn’t have a chance to, but I’m hoping we’ll catch him between classes.”
As it was, there seemed to be a steady flow of students on the connecting pathways, and Nancy and Ned gathered momentum. They quickly discovered the professor’s door and knocked.
“Come in,” a voice replied.
There was a shuffle of papers as the young couple stepped inside.
“Dr. DeNiro, I’m Nancy Drew.”
“And I’m Ned Nickerson,” Ned said. He stuck out his hand to shake the professor‘s, but his was hurriedly stuffing a folder into a briefcase.
“I have a class now,” the man said briskly.
“Well, we’re friends of Bess Marvin and George Fayne. I believe you met them the other day,” Nancy said.
“Oh yes, of course.”
Suddenly, he let the briefcase tumble on the desk and sat down, gesturing to Nancy and Ned to do the same.
“As a matter of fact, I was planning to call them today,” he said.
“You were?” Nancy replied in surprise.
“A most peculiar thing happened yesterday. Here, I’ll show you.”
He pulled out a lower drawer in his desk and dug to the back for a small packing box. Remaining shreds of brown paper were still wrapped around it. He removed it completely now and opened the lid. Inside was a thick wad of cotton which he drew out quickly.
“Oh!” Nancy exclaimed as a piece of gold jewelry rolled across his palm. “That’s Cliffs ring!”
“Are you sure?” Ned asked, taking it from the man and handing it to Nancy.
“It’s unmistakably the same one,” she replied. “The lily design and the scratches inside. Can you tell me how and where you got this, Dr. DeNiro?”
“It came in the mail,” he said. “It was addressed to me here at the college.”
“May I see the wrapping paper?” Nancy requested. But to her chagrin, there was no return address on it.
Now she wondered why the ring had been sent to the professor. It seemed to her that his impostor was too clever to have let it slip through his fingers so easily. Might he have given it to someone who forwarded it to Oberon College by mistake?
“Has anything else unusual happened to you recently?” Nancy inquired.
“No, not really. I am busily trying to finish a project—”
“A government project?” Nancy put in, remembering what Bess and George had told her.
“Yes, and I’ve had my nose buried in books for days.”
“I don’t mean to pry, Dr. DeNiro,” Nancy went on, “but I wonder if the man who was posing as you could be related to your current work.”
“Let’s say it’s not impossible, but unlikely. The same thought occurred to me when I spoke with your friends, but after digesting it a bit, I concluded that my statistical studies would be of little interest to anyone other than someone in my field.
“On the other hand,” the instructor continued, “the person could have read my name in the Gazette article and conveniently remembered it.”
Nancy agreed. “In any case,” she said, “I am greatly relieved to have the ring back. Now if we can only find its owner.”
Dr. DeNiro’s bewildered reaction prompted the girl to explain further. “Sounds like Cliffs in a lot of trouble,” the man said, “and if anything relevant should turn up, I will contact you immediately.”
“Or, if you can’t reach Nancy,” Ned inserted, “you can always call me.”
They gave him their telephone numbers, which he pocketed, then said he was running late for class. The couple thanked him for his time and followed him up the walkway, separating at the juncture to the parking lot.
“Weird, weird, weird,” Ned muttered as he drove the car along the winding pavement.
“And lucky,” Nancy said, flashing the ring in her hand.
Suddenly, her eyes settled on a young man carrying a canvas bag toward a campus laundry room. He had brown hair that trailed across his shoulder, and his build was slight like that of the boy she had chased out of the River Heights Theater!
“Slow down, Ned,” Nancy said.
The window was down on her side and she stuck her head through it, trying to see the boy’s profile as he strode toward a door.
“Who is it?” Ned questioned.
“It looks like the kid I found with Vince in the sound booth,” Nancy said.
She opened the car door and stepped out quickly, leaving Ned to idle the engine in a no-parking zone. She raced to the door she had seen the young man go into, but when she looked behind it, he was nowhere in sight.
“Where did he—” Nancy said, in the same instant realizing that he had disappeared around the corner of the building and was running toward a car near a dormitory.
Nancy raced back to Ned’s and leaped in.
“We have to follow him,” she said. “I’m pretty sure it’s the same guy.”
The other vehicle now swerved onto the pavement, screeching its wheels as it flew past the couple.
“Did he see you?” Ned said, bearing down on the accelerator.
“I hope not,” Nancy said. “I don’t think so.”
The boy ahead of them cruised down the road in the direction of the business district. He whipped through an amber light just before it turned red, which forced Nancy and Ned to a frustrating halt.
They didn’t speak as they watched the silver hatchback dart between cars and pitch through a second light as their own turned green again.
“We can’t lose him,” Nancy finally said, causing Ned to press down on the pedal.
“Don’t worry. We’ll catch him,” Ned assured her.
The hatchback was still in view, but when a sign for the River Heights Music Festival appeared overhead, the car spun quickly off its track. Ned had been concentrating on it so intently that he did not see another one barrel ing toward the approaching intersection.
“Watch it, Ned!” Nancy screamed as her eyes caught sight of the sports wagon. But Ned had already sailed into the path of collision!
16
Hazy Report
Instead of jamming on the brakes, which would have been Nancy’s instinct, Ned lurched the car forward. The sports wagon careened past the rear bumper, barely missing it before coming to an abrupt halt.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” the driver yelled back at Ned, then sped around the corner.
Nancy, meanwhile, had sunk against the car seat, feeling the tension in her muscles spin out in a shiver.
“Oh, Ned,” she gasped, as he urged the pedal again. “I thought we were going to get crumpled for sure.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Ned said, squeezing her hand lightly. “Now, don’t tell me you think I’d foul up a chase by getting us into a car accident.”
Nancy shook her head, smiling. “Where did that hatchback go, anyway?” she asked.
“He was heading for the River Heights Theater, and I figure we ought to as well.”
“But definitely,” Nancy said, straightening up in the seat.
It was amazing how the incident at the intersection, despite the fact that their own car had never stopped moving, had given the hatchback enough time to vanish completely.
“Maybe he turned off onto one of these side streets,” Nancy declared. She gazed down the ones they passed, looking for some evidence of the silver car. “I don’t see it anywhere,” she said at last.
But when they reached the theater, they noticed a trail of engine oil in the driveway and followed it.
“There!” Nancy exclaimed, spotting the elusive hatchback.
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