The Swami's Ring (5 page)
Authors: Carolyn Keene
“And you’re making a mountain out of a molehill,” Ned said, turning off the ignition.
The girl suddenly buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I just overreacted because of Dad.”
“I don’t understand,” Ned said. “What do I have to do with your father?”
“You don’t. It’s just that he doesn’t want me to help him either.”
“Let’s go inside and order something,” Ned suggested. “Then you can tell me everything.”
“Okay,” Nancy replied in a soft voice, and for a few moments she forgot her troubles as they entered the diner.
Counters and booths glistened against panels of beveled mirrors, and a string of colorful Tif fany lamps hung from the ceiling, transporting the couple to a bygone era.
“Some place,” Ned remarked as they slid into a booth.
“You can say that again,” Nancy said, opening the tall menu that had been handed to her.
Her eyes traveled down the length of unusual fare. “How about a Tango Fandango?” She giggled. “That’s only five scoops of ice cream with melba sauce, coconut, chopped nuts, raisins, and whipped cream!”
When the waitress came to take their orders, however, both settled for simple hot fudge sundaes and tea.
Nancy then related the conversation she had had with her father earlier in the evening.
“But your dad would never do anything underhanded,” Ned said, when Nancy finished talking.
“He mentioned that things had been happening to the Jansen troupe. He didn’t say what, though.”
“He also told you not to get involved.”
Nancy lowered her eyes away from Ned as he continued to look at her. He had never seen the girl so obviously distraught.
“I just can’t let people say such terrible things about Dad,” she said. “I know he wants me to stay out of it, but I can’t.”
As she spoke, the waitress brought the sundaes. Nancy spooned a bit of the mountainous whipped cream into her cup, stirring it more than necessary.
“Listen, Nancy, if you want me to help you in any way,” Ned said, “I will. But I’d also like to say I don’t think you ought to go against your father’s wishes.”
“Well, Dad said he didn’t want anything to happen to me. That was his main concern,” Nancy pointed out. “But if you’re with me, I’m bound to be all right.”
The young collegian blushed and dug his spoon deeper into the ice cream, catching some of the fudge sauce that floated in the bowl.
When they were almost finished, Nancy grinned mysteriously. “You said you needed help on something,” she began to say.
“Oh, yeah—well, it’s nothing really,” Ned stumbled in embarrassment. “I was just trying to send a little of your attention my way.”
“Oh, I see,” Nancy said as her companion went on.
“Now that we have this big investigation ahead of us, I’ll be too busy to feel sorry for myself.”
“Have I been that neglectful?” Nancy asked sheepishly.
The young man smiled in response, but chose not to pursue the subject. It was after eleven o‘clock, and he suggested they leave. When they reached the Drew home, however, they were surprised to see a visitor in the light of the living room window.
“It’s Angela Pruett, and she’s talking to Dad!” Nancy exclaimed.
She and Ned darted toward the front door that had been left unlocked. They stepped inside, aware of a sudden hush in the conversation.
“Is that you, Nancy?” Mr. Drew called out.
“And Ned,” she replied, walking into the room. She smiled pleasantly at the harpist.
“I gather you all met at the performance this evening,” the attorney commented.
“I was hoping we would see you again,” Nancy told the harpist.
The musician leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes momentarily.
“Miss Pruett has been trying to find her sister for several days,” Mr. Drew revealed. “It seems she went on some sort of spiritual retreat last weekend, but never returned.”
“Where was the retreat being held?” Nancy inquired.
“Somewhere in the hills outside of River Heights,” the harpist replied. “I don’t know exactly. Phyllis is very interested in Transcendental Meditation.”
“We didn’t realize you were from River Heights, Miss Pruett,” Ned commented.
“I’m not. And please call me Angela,” the harpist said. “As I told your father, Nancy, I took the festival job because I wanted to see my sister again. She ran away from home last year, and it was only a month ago that she wrote to me. She begged me, though, not to tell anyone where she was.
“The minute I had her address, I scouted around for some way to spend the summer here. Of course, I was hoping to convince her to come home before I left River Heights. She’s not quite seventeen yet.”
“Has she been living at the retreat?” Nancy asked.
“No. According to her letter, she took a room in someone’s house. I believe it belonged to their son, but he’s away at school now. I called Mrs. Flannery the minute I arrived. She said that Phyllis hadn’t been home all weekend.
“I contacted the police, but they don’t have any leads,” Angela Pruett went on. “When I met you tonight, I realized that maybe I needed to hire a private detective, and I was wondering—”
Nancy’s face broke into a soft smile. “I’m afraid you can’t hire me, Angela,” she said.
“Then you won’t help me?”
“On the contrary. I will help you, but I won’t if you insist upon paying me.”
“We’ll find your sister,” Ned said confidently.
“That’s right,” Nancy joined in, slipping her arm into his. “We’ll start tomorrow.”
But as she made the commitment, she thought of Cliff, the missing ring, her hospital work, and Tommy Johnson. Somehow, she would have to make time for everything!
Ned called her early in the morning. “What’s our schedule today?” he asked cheerfully. “I mean, are you ready for a hike in the hills of River Heights?”
Nancy laughed. “Maybe after I hike the halls of Rosemont Hospital!” she said. “I’m supposed to bring Cliff home—to our house, that is. »
There was dead silence at the other end of the line, then Ned cleared his throat. “Well, when would that be?” he asked.
“Oh, probably around one o‘clock.”
In the back of Nancy’s mind was a visit to Dr. DeNiro’s office at Oberon College. But she refrained from mentioning it, since she would have to find out the professor’s schedule before making an appointment to see him.
“Ned, would you like to come by about two?” Nancy said.
“Okay,” he said with renewed enthusiasm. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to back out on our plans for today.”
“Me? Never!” she said. “See you later.” She then called Bess and George to fill them in on the events of the night before.
Their mothers, they said, were going shopping and had invited the girls to accompany them.
“I didn’t want to disappoint Mom,” Bess said. “Neither did George. But if you need us—”
“Don’t give it a second thought,” Nancy insisted. She told them of her plans for the day, adding that by the end of it she would be in touch again. “That is, unless Ned and I get lost! ”
The morning at the hospital seemed to fly. Tommy Johnson had made considerable progress, and in between small errands, Nancy would stop in to see him. On her last visit, she brought him a big picture book filled with riddles.
“These are funny, Nancy,” the young patient said, giggling at the pictures.
“Hickory dickory dock,” Nancy said, pointing to the first one, “the mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one and down he came. Hickory dickory dock.”
“What time is it now?” Tommy asked.
“It’s not quite twelve-thirty.”
“Then the mouse has thirty minutes to go,” he laughed.
“And so do I,” Nancy said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She darted down the corridor and took the elevator to Cliffs floor. He had recovered from the episode of the day before and was fully dressed, waiting for someone to bring a wheelchair in which to take him downstairs.
“I’m so grateful to you,” he said, “but I hope this won’t be an imposition on you and your father.”
“Nonsense,” Nancy remarked. “You need to be in a different environment.”
“I need some fresh air, too,” he said, as the pungent odor of antiseptics floated down the hall.
The girl detective had deliberately not said anything about the Drews’ concern for the young man’s safety. Why compound his anxiety ? she thought.
When they finally arrived at the Drew house, Cliff seemed almost happy. Although he still felt somewhat weak, he greeted Hannah enthusiastically. She and Nancy showed him to his room, where he sank into a chair.
“You rest now until dinner,” the housekeeper suggested, closing the door quietly.
Nancy briefly explained that she would be gone most of the afternoon but would make certain to be back before six.
“Where have I heard that before?” Hannah said.
“From me, of course.” Nancy grinned.
She changed into her oldest jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, then answered a call from Angela Pruett, who was just leaving for a performance.
“Ned’s coming over soon and we’re going to try to find that retreat,” Nancy told her.
“Then I’m glad I caught you. One thing I did today was to reread Phyllis’s letter. She described the retreat a little bit. Apparently it’s near a large la—”
Suddenly the line went dead. They had been cut off! Nancy clicked the receiver several times, but nothing happened. She redialed, but got only a busy signal.
“I’ll call the operator, she said to herself, and dialed zero.
“I will place the call for you and credit your previous call,” the operator said in a matter-of-fact tone. “We regret the inconvenience.”
Nancy hung on the phone, anxiously waiting to hear Angela’s voice again.
“I am sorry.” It was the operator again. “That number is out of order.”
Now what? Nancy wondered. She had just missed hearing possible clues to the location of the retreat!
8
Tangled Trail
As Nancy stood by the telephone in the Drew hallway, her eyes darted to the figure hurrying up the driveway. She pulled open the door and let the warm breeze sweep inside.
“Hi, Ned! ” Nancy cried. The glaze of disappointment disappeared from her face temporarily.
“All set?” he replied with a quick glance at her loafers. “If I were you, I’d put on sneakers for this trip.”
“You’re right—I guess,” Nancy said with a faraway look.
“Is something bothering you?” Ned asked.
That was enough to make the girl detective give a detailed account of what had just occurred. “I’m positive Angela was about to mention the name of some lake when we were cut off,” Nancy said. “If only she weren’t tied up at the theater now—”
“All we have to do is look at a large map of River Heights,” Ned interrupted, following the girl into the house.
“I wish,” Nancy said in an unhappy tone. “Do you have any idea how many lakes there are in this area?”
Ned shrugged. “A hundred?”
“No, not a hundred, but there are at least three or four big ones. It’ll take days to scout each one.”
“So?”
“So—we don’t have that much time,” Nancy went on. “Every day we spend searching for Phyllis Pruett will be one less spent helping Cliff find out who he is.”
The girl’s voice rippled a little, causing Ned to set his hands on her shoulders. “The important thing is that Cliff has a home now,” he said gently.
Nancy lifted her face in a smile and sighed. “Guess I’m just a bit edgy these days.”
Ned did not comment, but he sensed that Mr. Drew’s trouble with the townspeople of River Heights was the source of Nancy’s continuing distress. She hurried upstairs to change her shoes, pausing on the landing long enough to call down to Ned.
“How many lakes do you think we can cover by midnight?” She grinned.
“At least a dozen.” Ned chuckled.
When Nancy returned, she was carrying a road map of River Heights.
“This has
everything
on it—even major landmarks like our new shopping mall on Oak Boulevard,” Nancy said brightly.
everything
on it—even major landmarks like our new shopping mall on Oak Boulevard,” Nancy said brightly.
“Does it also show Phyllis’s retreat?” Ned teased, watching the map unfurl on the dining room table.
“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Nancy remarked. She cast a glance at the two bodies of water indicated on either side of a mountain ridge near the River Heights Airport. A third one lay farther south near Castleton.
“They always say to try and kill two birds with one stone,” Ned quipped.
“So we’ll start with these two first,” Nancy said, pointing to Swain Lake and Green Pond.
In less than an hour, the couple was following a steep road that led to the latter. At the top of the hill they found a lookout point where they stopped the car.
“There it is—Green Pond!” Nancy exclaimed as she gazed at a shimmer of greenish-blue water below that spread out fish-like behind an outcrop.
“See anything that looks like a retreat?” Ned asked.
“No, but there’s a little bunch of stores at the bottom of this road,” Nancy observed, “and people who visit the retreat do need supplies once in a while.”
“Right on,” Ned said as they leaped back into the car.
First stop was a delicatessen that offered an array of salads, cold cuts, and household items. The twosome were of only moderate interest to the few people standing in line at the counter. As soon as the customers left the store, Nancy spoke to the clerk, asking if he knew of any retreat in the area.
“Can’t say that I do,” he replied immediately, then pursed his lips. “But I have heard of something like that over on Swain Lake.”
A surge of excitement pulsed through the girl. “Do you know where it is exactly?” Nancy asked.
“No, I don‘t, but you might take a ride over there. Someone’s bound to be able to tell you.”
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