tall, dark and dangerous (Nancy Drew/Ned Nickerson) - complete

chapter 2

New York. Nancy took a deep breath of the odoriferous air and grinned as she exited the terminal, pulling her wheeled suitcase along behind her, her laptop bag and duffel slung across her other arm. She had visited the city many times, mostly to see her aunt and work on cases, but she had never grown tired of it, and was sure she never would. It was one of the most exciting places in the world, and although the circumstances weren't totally ideal—Nancy hated that a man's life hung in the balance—she still felt exhilarated.

Humphrey strode before her to the curb. The darkness was punctuated by the wall-to-wall sea of headlights and taxis' on-duty lights, and the tang of motor oil, exhaust, and hot tar was almost palpable. "Come on, Nan!"

Nancy made a face at Humphrey's back as she strode toward the taxi he had flagged down. She hated being called Nan when she hadn't said that was okay with her, but Humphrey didn't seem to mind a bit.

"Let's get a drink once we get to the hotel."

Once the cabbie had maneuvered all their luggage into the trunk and started to force his way through the traffic toward their hotel, Humphrey and Nancy had tried to settle in the backseat. The entire flight he had been making veiled innuendoes, and she had seen him toss back at least two of the airplane bottles of vodka. She was glad Humphrey wouldn't be driving while they were in the city.

"You know I'm not of legal age to drink."

"Hey, it's all good. Minibar." Humphrey wiggled his eyebrows in a way Nancy was sure he thought was attractive. It just made him look vaguely ridiculous.

His problem, Nancy reflected, was that he just tried way too hard. He wore a white-collared-and-cuffed blue and grey-striped dress shirt under his expensive suit, his shoes were shined, and he had the pocket square and the tie tack—they were just a little askew, and his hair was slicked back. If he were a different guy, the look might have worked for him—but twenty years earlier. As it was, Nancy just felt a little sorry for him.

Until he started one of his clumsy pickup attempts. Then she just felt irritated.

She had brought along a fake ID putting her above legal age, one bearing the name Ann Mallory to go along with her cover identity, but she had no intention of telling Humphrey that, or of drinking around him. He was harmless enough, and she couldn't see him actually putting anything in her drink or taking advantage of her if she were passed out, but she didn't want to see him lose even more of his inhibitions, or to get so drunk that she actually reamed him out. As she reminded herself again, she needed him.

She had taken time the night before and while waiting for the flight to do some research, but she only had brief biographical sketches on the five Bennett Group members they would be interviewing the next day. From what she understood, the shot had been close-range, so any of the other passengers could have been responsible. She was hoping that the interviews would give her some hunch or instinct for who might have done it.

At least she had a perfect excuse for not taking advantage of Humphrey's minibar. "Look, I know we both have a lot of research to do," Nancy said, trying to keep her tone even. "I have to go talk to Mark tonight, and we don't want to look hungover in the morning when we go on our interviews."

"Ahh, come on! I'm a big-shot investor; it would seem odd if I weren't hungover!"

Nancy tried as hard as she could not to roll her eyes at him. "Humor me, please?"

Once they reached the hotel and checked into their separate rooms—and she wasn't exactly thrilled that their rooms were directly across the hall from each other, but at least they weren't connecting—Nancy hastily put her hair up in a ponytail, grabbed her room key and crossbody purse, and set out.