Chapter 18 - Nancy

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938 Richardson Drive

Blackridge, New Hampshire

Monday 10 March 2008

I smooth back my hair and put on a smile, holding my notebook to my chest with one hand. I ring the doorbell and straighten my posture.

There is a long silence, then a scuffling noise. The curtains behind the warbled window in the door part slightly, revealing a wild-looking face.

"What do you want?!" the person exclaims.

I chew on my lip, forcing my smile to remain intact. "Hello, my name is Nancy Drew and I am investigating the death of James Monroe. Are you Carter? His father?"

The door slowly opens. The man is middle-aged, and is wearing stained boxers and a t-shirt underneath a ratty robe. He stinks strongly of booze.

"Yes. I was his father. What's it to you?"

"Like I said, I am investigating the cause of James' death."

"You with the police?"

"In a sense. I was hired to--"

"If you're with the police let me see your badge."

"I don't have one, I'm a private investiga--"

He slams the door shut in my face with enough force to move my hair. I instinctively take a step back in shock.

"If the police want so badly to talk to my family again, they will have to come back with a badge and a warrant! I am through!"

"Sir, Sheriff Reeves hired me to help!"

"Stick it up your ass! I already gave the police everything I know, along with a box full of my deceased son's 'effects'. All that's happened is my wife and I have less and less closure. Go screw yourselves!"

I nod with a tight-lipped grimace, spinning on my heel to go back to my car.

----

I look up at the sign, and then back at my notebook. I sigh a little, and then step through the doors of "Lucky Lad's Bar & Grill."

Inside, there is a strong smell of beer and bar food, but it is classier than the name implies. No strippers, at least.

"Can I help you?" The hostess asks with a white smile. She wears a short skirt and a button-up that is tied in the front to show off her stomach and bosom.

"Hello," I say professionally, "My name is Nancy Drew. I'm looking for people who knew James Monroe?"

Her smile fades. "You mean Jamie?" She bites her lip and looks off to the side. "We all knew him. It was devastating when he died. Are... are you investigating his death?"

"Yes," I tell her, "I'm trying to get an idea of who he was and why he would have been at Lockwood that night."

"You know, we all already talked to the police."

"Just being thorough," I say, "I was hired by the police to do some more digging."

She nods. "That's good to hear. We all thought they'd given up." She takes a deep breath. "Well, none of us knew Jamie as well as Rick did. I would start there." She points. "He's working the bar today."

"Thank you," I smile at her and walk over to where she pointed. I smile at the guy, and he looks a little wary. "Hi, my name's Nancy Drew. Are you Rick?"

He nods hesitantly.

"I'm told you worked with James Monroe?" I ask, taking a seat at one of the stools across from him.

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