Just at that moment, a car careened recklessly around them, grazing the wheel of the caleche. The frightened horse neighed, rearing up on his hind legs as the driver fought to control him. The horse raced off at breakneck speed, the carriage bouncing down a narrow cobblestone alley and around a corner, where its wheels ran up over the high curb. The carriage began to tilt dangerously.
“Hang on, Nancy!” Ned cried, holding her tight. “We’re going over!”
Chapter Five
The bouncing caleche teetered on two wheels as the driver yanked desperately on the reins, pulling with all his strength and shouting, “Whoa! Whoa!” Nancy found herself thrown into one corner, with Ned’s arms tight around her. She held her breath as the carriage rocketed over the curb and into the crowded street. But it stayed upright! After a moment the driver managed to bring the terrified horse under control. Amazingly no pedestrians had been injured.
“Are you okay?” Ned asked breathlessly when they finally came to a stop.
“I—I guess so,” Nancy answered, her voice shaky as she tried to sit up straight. She rubbed her throbbing temple where she had bumped it.
Ned climbed out of the carriage and turned back to help Nancy down. She got out and began to dust herself off.
“Monsieur, mademoiselle, a thousand pardons! Please don’t go!” the driver cried, climbing down from his perch. “My horse was frightened by the car, that’s all.”
Nancy nodded. “I know,” she said, rubbing her head. “But I think I’ve had enough of caleches for one day.” She reached into the carriage to pick up her flowers, and looked at Ned. “How about if we walk the rest of the way?”
“Good idea,” Ned said. He tried to pay the driver, but his money was refused.
Lake Sinclair lived in one of the restored brick-and-stone buildings on Saint-Denis Street. On the outside the building looked as if it were untouched by modern technology. It appeared hundreds of years old, with its quaint iron railings and gray-green slate roof. Even the parking area had been cleverly disguised to look like an old brick courtyard.
But inside, Lake Sinclair’s house was ultramodern, filled with sophisticated contemporary furniture and a few pieces of exceptional art. Lake herself was a beautiful young woman, only a few years older than Nancy. She was dressed in a chic white jogging suit. Her bright auburn hair had curled in damp tendrils around her face, which was flushed with color.
“You’ll have to forgive me,” she said, tossing her long hair carelessly. “I’ve just gotten back from a run in the stadium, and I haven’t had time to change.” She led them down a softly lit hallway. Off to one side, Nancy could see what looked like an athletic training room. It was full of exercise machines and weights. George would love this, Nancy thought.
“In the stadium?” Nancy asked eagerly. “My friend George is dying for a chance to run in Olympic Stadium, but we’ve been told it’s closed to the public.”
“I’m sure my dad would be glad to arrange something,” Lake replied, showing them into the living room. She sank down onto the plush sofa and a white angora cat jumped up on her lap, purring loudly. “He’s on the board of directors at the stadium.”
“That would be great,” Nancy said as she and Ned took the chairs opposite the sofa. “George will be delighted.”
Lake looked at Nancy. “Ashley said that you’re a private detective, and she asked me to—to cooperate with you, whatever that means.” She hesitated, her eyes flickering from Nancy to Ned. “What can I do for you?”
Nancy leaned forward. Sometimes it was better to start out with small talk. In this case, though, she had the feeling that she would get more out of Lake if she took the direct approach.
“You can tell us about the blackmail demands you’ve been getting,” Nancy said.
Lake’s face paled suddenly. “Blackmail?” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know anything about blackmail.”
“We think you do,” Ned replied sternly. “We think you know a great deal about it.”
Lake took a deep breath. “And what makes you so sure of that?” she asked in a challenging voice. Her eyes darted from one to the other.