The Silence Of The Library

Aunt Dottie evidently bought movie magazines during her youth because there were several pages of pictures and articles cut from them that featured Bonita Granville and her role as Nancy Drew. I caught myself reading one of the articles. I didn’t have time for that now. Concentrate on Mrs. Cartwright and Veronica Thane, I reminded myself.

There were pages of article clippings, most now yellowed with age and stained from glue, that mentioned Nancy Drew or one of the other juvenile detective series. I found a few references to Veronica Thane, but nothing extensive. Toward the middle I noticed a section that focused on Mrs. Cartwright, and I felt a tingle of anticipation. The clue I sought might be under my fingers.

Ten minutes later, having worked my way through the pertinent pages, I was discouraged. I hadn’t found anything that seemed relevant. The most interesting item was another photo from a film magazine that featured Marietta Dubois, the actress who was to have portrayed Veronica, and Mrs. Cartwright. Miss Dubois, tall and willowy, smiled—insincerely I thought—down at Mrs. Cartwright, who gazed up at the younger woman with manifest delight. Mrs. Cartwright’s head was about level with Miss Dubois’s shoulder.

Too bad the movie never came to be, I thought. Veronica might have been even more famous, and it could have boosted the career of Miss Dubois.

I skimmed through the rest of the scrapbook but found nothing else related to either Veronica Thane or Mrs. Cartwright. I set it aside, wondering whether I had missed something.

The remaining newsletters beckoned, but I had little enthusiasm for the task. I decided I needed a complete break from my research. Perhaps if I put it all aside for a couple of hours, I could come back fresher and more alert to potential clues.

“Come on, Diesel.” I got up from the table. “Let’s go upstairs for a while. I’m going to read, and you can stretch out on the bed and have a nice long nap. How does that sound?”

Diesel warbled happily and trotted beside me out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I took off my shoes and got comfortable on the bed. My copy of Spellwood Mansion lay on the nightstand, and I picked it up. Perhaps Veronica would inspire me. Escape reading might be just the thing to clear my head.

I found my bookmark and began to read. Veronica had just found out she’d been drugged. . . .

THIRTY-SIX

“Drugged?” Veronica gasped. Why would someone drug her? And how? “I’m sure Mrs. Eden wouldn’t have done such a thing!”

Lucy stared at her. “Mrs. Eden? Who pray tell is Mrs. Eden?”

Veronica blinked several times, and her right hand convulsively clutched at her throat. “I don’t know why I said that.” A memory was trying slowly to push itself into the forefront of her mind.

Lucy remained quiet, for Veronica’s mental struggle was evident in her expression. She grew considerably alarmed, however, when Veronica suddenly collapsed against the pillows. The huge smile that her friend bestowed upon her quickly reassured her.

“You have remembered something?” Lucy asked, waiting tremulously for the answer.

“Yes, I have,” Veronica stated triumphantly. “It has all come back to me now. Mrs. Eden’s name was the key to unlocking my memories.” Her happiness faded quickly, however, as she wondered what fate had befallen her frightened hostess.

Quickly Veronica related to her dearest friend the details of her harrowing adventure the night before. Lucy appeared suitably awed and frightened in turn over the risks that the intrepid young detective had taken in order to help a terrified stranger.