EDITING: Politics and Poison

Chapter Six: Changed

Nancy Drew: The next day was overcast. I rolled over, checked the clock. It was five. I did several sit ups, and sat listening to the birds, as I pulled on some tights and did up my runners. I ran down to the park, enjoying the silence and solitude. No one was up yet.

River Heights was dormant. I had just the animals as company, as the sun slowly crawled up the sky.I got in the shower and took my time, washing the scent of death, and the grime of the last few days, from my skin. Smelling of fruit and soap, I dressed in a sweater and jeans, padded barefoot down to the kitchen, where I drank a glass of juice. I filled Togo's bowl with dry food, and opened the door. He came bounding in, gave me a loving lick before falling upon his breakfast with ecstasy. I watched my  fox terrier's ravenous and noisy progress for a moment, feeling glad that some things never changed.

In my bathroom, I applied make up with slow movements. My eyes were far away, and the face that looked back at me from my mirror, was preoccupied. I was thinking about Greer and the events that had led to his death. If he'd been murdered, who had done it, and why? Was it something to do with the convention? After all, the timing seemed odd, and he had been killed only hours after arriving in River Heights.

I pulled on a pair of high heeled pumps, and sat down at my desk, pulled out a notebook and smoothed it open upon a fresh page. I started with what I knew: before he'd gone home, the Senator had had a light entree. Chewing on my pen, I recalled that we'd both eaten a light soup. It had been subtle, watery. I doubted that it could mask the scent, or flavor of a vicious poison. The smoked wild pheasant breast and hand-picked potatoes, were stronger, as was the chocolate tart he'd had for his main meal with earthy pinot noir. I tried to recall who had been in the restaurant that night.

I had been so preoccupied with Ned, that I'd been less observant than usual. Sighing, I undid the heart shaped necklace that Ned had bought for me in tenth grade, and dropped it in the wastepaper basket at my feet. Angry tears stung my eyes and I dashed them away with the back of my hand, hurried down the stairs to the empty, shadowed kitchen. I helped myself to toast and had another glass of juice. I sat listening to the wind outside, and playing with my empty glass.

"Nancy Elizabeth Drew," I said aloud, to myself. "Stop moping and do something."

I cleaned my dishes, and brushed my teeth, pulled on my coat and left a note for Joe. I had my phone on my person, was just going for a walk. I would be at the convention by nine. Even Hannah, Dad and Fenton would still be asleep, I surmised. They'd all stayed up late the night before, talking in the den. 

I unhooked Togo's leash from the back door and he came skittering down the stairs, tan ears pricked, a smile upon his cheeky face. I slid his Christmas print dog jumper over his lean and taut, little white body, and clipped his lead to his collar.

Outside it was chilly. The cool air woke me up. It was nice to take it slow, without running, lungs burning and screaming through the inferno, for oxygen. I made my way down to the lake, smooth ballads trickling through my earphones. The quaint inn beckoned to me, smelling of coffee and eggs. Pineapple yellow police tape fluttered in the breeze. I apologized to my dog, tying his lead to the railing of the porch, said, "I'll be back soon, I promise."

 A receptionist lifted weary eyes from her computer, as I entered the foyer and asked whether she'd seen Frank Hardy. She tapped away on the keyboard, looking flustered. Her gaze kept darting to hallway that lead to the Presidential Suite. From our angle we couldn't see the doorway, but we both knew that it bore decorations of police tape, and that guards would be supervising the crime scene for the next few days.

"I'm sorry, you said Hardy, didn't you?" the receptionist checked.

I nodded.

She hid a yawn, and clicked some more. "It seems he checked out about twenty minutes ago. Said he had to get back to university, or something." The receptionist lifted a cup of coffee to her mouth, and took a needy sip.