Carolyn Keene. This Side of Evil

Nancy joined her. “Actually, Dr. Dandridge,” she said, “I’ve been having trouble with my nose, too, lately.”

Solicitously, the doctor leaned forward. “What kind of trouble?”

“I keep smelling something,” Nancy replied. “Something terribly wrong.”

“Well, we can examine you, too, young lady. Sometimes the sinus passages become blocked, and—”

“I’m not sure an examination would do any good, Doctor,” Nancy explained, watching him closely. “Because what I keep smelling is blackmail.”

“B-b-blackmail?” he stuttered, staring at Nancy.

“That’s right,” Nancy said. “You see, I’m a private detective. I’ve been hired by Cherbourg Industries to investigate a blackmailing ring. I have reason—very good reason—to believe that somebody in your office is the blackmailer.”

“In my office?” Dr. Dandridge gulped. His face was white now. “What makes you think that?”

“One of the blackmail victims is a young woman named Lake Sinclair. She’s been paying the bills for the plastic surgery you’ve been doing on a young girl. Lake claims that no one knows about her involvement with your patient except the staff in your office—and you, of course.”

“Lake Sinclair is being blackmailed! But that’s not possible!” He picked up a small gold keychain and began to turn it over nervously in his fingers. In front of him, in a filigreed silver holder, was a stack of cream-colored notepaper with a thin blue line down the left margin. “No. No, I simply don’t believe it,” he said.

“Well, consider this then,” Nancy told him, standing. “Yesterday, there was an accident in the apartment where we’re staying. I was nearly burned with liquid nitrogen that spilled out of a Thermos bottle in a cabinet over my head. It was a frighteningly clever booby trap, and it was set up by somebody with access to liquid nitrogen.”

“Yes, but any chemist could have provided—” Dr. Dandridge began. His voice was thin and panicky.

“Wait,” Nancy cautioned. “There’s more. A few minutes after that I received a threatening note. It was typed on cream-colored paper—paper identical to that pad right in front of you.” She picked up a piece of the paper, folded it carefully, and put it in her skirt pocket. “I submit, Dr. Dandridge, that there is very good reason to believe that you or one of your staff is deeply involved with blackmail.”

“Well, it isn’t me!” the doctor exclaimed. The keys still in his hand, he stood up. “I have what you detectives call an airtight alibi. For the last two days, I’ve been in New York. I just got back this morning.”

Nancy frowned. All the clues pointed to Dandridge. If it wasn’t him, then it had to be one of his staff.

The doctor bent over and picked up an expensive-looking leather briefcase. He put it down flat on his desk. “Anyway,” he said wearily, “there’s another reason I can’t be your blackmailer.” He inserted one of the keys into the briefcase lock and began to open the lid.

Nancy tensed, and behind her George gasped out loud. What did he have in the briefcase? A gun? Slowly, the briefcase was opened. . . .

Chapter Eight

“Money!” George exclaimed.

“There’s fifty thousand dollars here,” Dr. Dandridge said grimly. “It’s the third installment—and I don’t know how many more there’ll be.”

Nancy whistled softly. “Fifty thousand dollars!” Annette LeBeau, Lake Sinclair, Emile Dandridge—each of them paying tens of thousands of dollars. There was no question about it. Nancy had stumbled onto a big-time criminal operation that was netting somebody lots of money.

“See all this fine furniture?” Dr. Dandridge said, waving his arm. “Well, none of it belongs to me anymore. I’ve had to mortgage it. My office equipment, too. If it doesn’t stop pretty soon, I’m going to be totally ruined.”

Nancy turned around and glanced at the diplomas on the wall. “The blackmailer found out about your phony medical degrees, didn’t he?”

Emile Dandridge stared at her. “How did you know?” he whispered.

Nancy shrugged and pointed to a diploma. “It wasn’t hard to figure out,” she said. “Nobody finishes a residency in six months.”

Dr. Dandridge seemed to shrivel, Nancy thought, like a balloon after the air had been let out of it. “So that’s how the blackmailer discovered it,” he said wearily. “Why didn’t I ever notice?” He went to the wall and took the diploma down, shaking his head. “I just never paid any attention to the dates.”

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