Carolyn Keene. Trial By Fire

Suddenly she stopped short. Ms. Hanson was gathering the other change on her desk.

“Is that money for buying coffee supplies?” Nancy asked.

“Yes. Oh, will you do me a favor?” She opened the envelope and removed two twenty-dollar bills. “Keep that for your father. He put a fifty in because he didn’t have anything smaller. That’s his change.”

Nancy felt as if the sun had just come out after a long, cold night. She checked the envelope. It was office stationery, with no writing on it. “How often does he contribute to the coffee fund?”

“Oh, every couple of weeks.”

“And he just puts it in an envelope and leaves it for you?”

Ms. Hanson eyed her worriedly. “That’s right. Do you feel all right, Nancy?”

Nancy leaned over and kissed her. “I feel fine, Ms. Hanson. For the first time in days, I feel terrific!”

She ran back into her father’s office, grabbed the paperweight, and left.

Nancy had picked up Bess, and the two girls pelted through the halls of the courthouse as if they were trying for gold medals. People turned and stared, and a security guard shouted, “Hey!” and began to run after them.

“What took you so long?” Bess panted. “And what were you doing in that parking lot across the street from your dad’s office? I could see you from here.”

“Later,” Nancy said as they burst through the doors of Courtroom C. Judge Leonard, stern and unsmiling, lifted his gavel and pounded on his desk. “Bailiff, remove these—”

Carson had stood at the disruption, his face appearing ten years older than when Nancy had last seen him. One look at her—and the broad smile on her face—and the years began to drop away. He knew she had done it.

“Stanford,” he said, then corrected himself. “Sorry. Your Honor, this is my daughter, Nancy. And her friend Bess Marvin.”

“Oh. Very well. Take seats, young ladies. I regret that you’ve arrived at this particular point in the proceedings. I am ready to make a judgment.”

“Your Honor, please,” Nancy said, moving down to the table at which her father and his associates sat. “I have a few items I’d like to offer into evidence, if that’s the way to say it.”

Judge Leonard frowned. “This is highly irregular. Mr. Drew, was this your idea?”

Nancy’s father stood up. “You may or may not know, Your Honor, that my daughter is a detective.”

The judge’s brows flipped toward his hairline. “A detective?”

“She’s been investigating the charges against me, and from the way she made her entrance, I assume she’s met with some measure of success.”

“I have—” Nancy looked back at Bess. “We have, Your Honor.” Bess turned peach and grinned.

“I agree that this is highly irregular,” Carson continued. “But if she’s given a chance to present her evidence, we may save all of us a great deal of time and trouble.”

Nancy watched the judge closely. His reaction at that point would determine how she began—whether she should consider him one of the rat pack or one of its victims.

“Very well,” he said. “Present your evidence.”

Nancy removed the paperweight from her pocket and held it up. “Defense exhibit A. I just removed this from my father’s office. This is one of the foundations of the conspiracy against my father.”

“A paperweight?” Judge Leonard said, with barely hidden impatience. “What bearing could it have? I have one like it. So has my secretary.”

“Do they all have ladybugs on the flowers?”

“Yes, I believe they do.”

Nancy beckoned to Bess, who knew exactly what to do. She took out the paperweights she had removed from the box and put them on the table. Nancy scooped up the ladybugs and spread them out. “Defense exhibit B,” she said solemnly.

Then she took the heavy drill and, raising it above her head, smashed her father’s paperweight.

Carson Drew leaned over. “Nancy, what are you doing?”

Without answering, Nancy brushed aside the chunks of glass and carefully removed the ladybug. Turning it over, she showed it to the judge.

His eyes went round, his mouth opening in dawning horror. “Let me see that,” he said, and came down off the bench to stand beside her.

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