Dance Till You Die (9 page)

The room was furnished with ornately carved, silk-covered furniture. “This room looks like people never use it,” George whispered, taking in
the array of expensive porcelain on the highly polished wooden side tables. “I'm almost afraid to breathe in here.”

“I know exactly what you mean, George,” Nancy replied with a grin.

A man cleared his throat in the doorway just behind Nancy. Turning, she saw a tall, patrician man standing there. “I'm Bradley Freeborn, Charity's father,” he stated simply. Mr. Freeborn was wearing a cream-colored cashmere blazer, and had streaks of gray in his dark hair. He had a serious, but not unfriendly, expression on his face. “You know my daughter, Charity?” he asked, reaching out to shake their hands.

Nancy nodded. “I'm Nancy Drew, and this is George Fayne,” she said. She decided not to reveal the real reason that she was looking for Charity. “We thought we'd stop by to see if Charity was around. There's a party tonight we wanted to invite her to.”

“Well, I wish I could be of some help,” Bradley Freeborn said with a sigh. “But I simply don't know where she is.” Nancy could see worry lines etched on his brow. “We had a quarrel—a stupid quarrel over her boyfriend, and she took off without a word. Her mother hasn't left her bed in days, she's so worried.”

Nancy felt sorry for Charity's father. He was obviously distraught over his daughter's absence. “I saw Charity at a dance last night,” Nancy said, trying to reassure him. “She was fine at that time.”

“You did?” Mr. Freeborn's eyes lit up. “I'll tell her mother. That'll make her feel much better.”

A brass pendulum clock on the mantelpiece over the fireplace chimed eight o'clock. Nancy and George turned to leave. “If I see Charity, I'll tell her that you want her to come home,” Nancy said softly.

Nancy thought she saw tears welling in the corners of Mr. Freeborn's eyes. “Thank you, Miss Drew,” he said with a grateful smile.

After saying goodbye, Nancy and George headed for the warehouse district.

The warehouse district, which was normally busy with trucks delivering freight and goods during the day, was almost totally deserted at night. Here and there, the girls could see hunched-over figures pushing shopping carts and the campfires of homeless people glowing in the corners of vacant lots.

“We're getting off the beaten track, aren't we?” George observed warily.

Nancy clicked on her high beams to read a
street sign ahead of them. “Here we are, I think. This is where the dance is tonight,” she said, turning down the side street.

A row of parked cars stretched along the street in front of them. Nancy pulled into an empty spot, and then she and George followed a group of young people to a nondescript, gray metal door. A guy wearing black baggies and suspenders stood by the door, taking money. “The party's on the sixth floor,” he announced.

Nancy and George paid their five dollars each and climbed the six flights of stairs to an upstairs loft. The loft was basically one large, open room with redbrick walls. House music was blasting from a set of oversize speakers that someone had hung from the ceiling.

Nancy recognized some of the same faces she'd seen at the amusement park the night before. Underground parties obviously drew from a crowd of regulars. She hoped that someone would have heard of Gaetan and Charity's whereabouts.

The teens were dressed in their coolest outfits for a special dance competition. The crowd formed a semicircle around the couples who were competing. Nancy and George stood near the back of the crowd, applauding as the male dancer
of the couple threw his partner into the air in a spectacular flying twist.

“Those guys are really good,” George commented enthusiastically.

“Why don't you grab a guy and get out there, George?” Nancy asked with a chuckle.

George shook her head. “I'm all left feet on the dance floor,” she said ruefully.

Getting back to the business at hand, Nancy checked around for anyone she recognized so she could ask about Charity and Gaetan. Then her heart skipped a beat. There was Gaetan, standing talking to the DJ! “George,” Nancy muttered under her breath. “Look over there, by the music console.”

George followed Nancy's glance. “It's Gaetan!” she gasped. “That's pretty amazing that he'd show up in public tonight, with the police looking for him,” she said.

“I'd like you to go find a phone somewhere and call B.D.,” Nancy said. “Tell him that Gaetan's here. I'm going to have a talk with him.”

“Okay,” George replied. “It may take me a while. I didn't see too many pay phones around here while we were driving over.”

As soon as George left, Nancy walked toward Gaetan. He spotted her and instantly tried to
melt into the crowd. Nancy blocked his retreat by stepping around him.

“Not so fast, Gaetan,” Nancy said swiftly. “You have some explaining to do.”

A scowl crossed his face. “What are you talking about?” he snapped. “Didn't you bother me and Charity enough yesterday?”

“I came to ask you some questions about Etienne,” Nancy replied.

“Why don't you ask him?” Gaetan replied, turning his back on her. It looked as if he was getting ready to leave.

“I can't ask Etienne, because Etienne is dead,” Nancy said evenly, waiting for his reaction.

Gaetan froze in his tracks. Then he spun around and stared at Nancy. “What do you mean,
dead?”
he whispered.

“Etienne was murdered—strangled. I was there today when the police found a threatening message from you on his answering machine,” Nancy explained.

“So the police must think
I'm
the one who murdered him,” Gaetan said weakly. Nancy nodded. He dropped into a sitting position on a folding chair. “So that was why the police were at my apartment tonight. I was in the process of moving, and when I came back to pick up some things, I saw squad cars all over the place.” He
held his head in his hands. “I thought they'd come to deport me because of my visa problems.”

“Why did you threaten to kill Etienne, Gaetan?” Nancy asked him.

Gaetan pulled a white handkerchief from his pants pocket and mopped his brow. “I spouted off while I was angry, but I didn't mean it. I needed the money so that Charity and I could get married,” he said.

Nancy wanted to believe what Gaetan was saying—that he hadn't killed Etienne. Maybe he had an alibi, she thought. “Where were you and Charity all day today?”

“I was moving. Charity and I were making trips to my new place in a van I rented,” he said. “I don't think we spoke to anyone else all day.”

“The police aren't going to buy that alibi, Gaetan,” Nancy said. “They may even try to tie you into Bess's abduction. I know for a fact that Charity lied about your not being at the Razor's Edge last night. I have a picture of you and Etienne arguing at the club.”

Gaetan grimaced. “I know she lied about that. She just thought you were butting into our private business, so I guess she lied to protect me.”

“Protect you from what?” Nancy pressed.

“Charity knows I've been having problems
with immigration, and she doesn't want me to be deported back to Angola,” Gaetan said. “Etienne and I both put some money into a plan to open a club, and I went to the Edge last night to see if I could get some of it back. We had words, then I left.”

Charity appeared at Gaetan's elbow. “Gaetan? What's going on?” she asked, looking from Gaetan to Nancy.

“Etienne is dead,” Gaetan said softly. “Murdered.” Charity squeezed her eyes shut. Gaetan held out his arms and she went to him, letting herself be enveloped in his embrace. They held each other for a long moment. Nancy could see that they were very much in love.

“How could anyone kill Etienne? Who did it?” Charity's voice was muffled against Gaetan's shoulder.

“Gaetan,” Nancy asked. “Do you have any idea who could have murdered Etienne? Did he have any problems or enemies?”

Gaetan shook his head. “I only recall that he had worries about this job. I think the Razor's Edge was having financial problems. But then, Etienne's life was filled with money problems,” Gaetan said.

“What kind of problems was the club having?” Nancy asked.

Gaetan shrugged. “I think I remember him saying the club could go out of business if things didn't turn around.”

“I believe you, Gaetan, when you say that you didn't kill Etienne,” Nancy said. “But the police might see things differently. It would probably be best if you turned yourself in.”

Gaetan shook his head desperately. “I can't do that. At the very least they'll deport me, and then I'll never see Charity again.”

Nancy glanced over at Charity. “We saw your father tonight, Charity,” she said.

“My—my father?” Charity stammered. “How was he?”

“Worried,” Nancy said flatly. “He said he wants you to come home.”

Charity buried her face in Gaetan's shoulder. “I can never go back without Gaetan,” she said.

Nancy decided not to argue with her. She pulled a piece of paper and a pencil from her bag and wrote something on it. “Here's my father's name and office number,” she said, handing the paper to Gaetan. “He's a very good lawyer. I think you're going to need one.”

“Thanks, Nancy,” Gaetan replied.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the front door of the loft. A handful of heavily armed officers, led by Detective B. D. Hawkins, entered
the room. Someone cut off the music, and a hush fell over the crowd.

B.D. spotted Nancy and Gaetan right away. It was so quiet that they could hear his leather cowboy boots squeak as he strode across the room.

“You're under arrest, Gaetan,” he said softly. “Let's go quietly, shall we?”

Gaetan's shoulders slumped forward. B.D. pulled a pair of handcuffs from his leather belt and snapped them around Gaetan's wrists.

“Gaetan, no!” Charity cried. Nancy watched the tears stream down her face.

Nancy felt conflicted. She had been the one who had tracked down Gaetan and called the police, but now she thought he might be innocent of Etienne's murder. But it was too late—Gaetan was being arrested!

T
HANKS,
N
ANCY,
” B.D. said as the police led Gaetan away. “You really helped us land this suspect.”

“Thanks, but I'm beginning to wonder if we got the right guy,” Nancy said. “I spoke with Gaetan, and I think he might be innocent.”

“We'll figure it out now that we have him in custody,” B.D. said. He studied Nancy's stricken expression. “Don't worry. You did the right thing in calling us. He was wanted by the police.” B.D. turned to leave. “I forgot to tell you, Nancy. The coroner's report came in—Etienne had traces of ether in his system. So you were right about the kidnapping and the murder being connected.”
He left after promising to call her the next day to report the results of Gaetan's interrogation.

George appeared at the front door. “I saw them take Gaetan away,” she said. “Charity was following them. So I guess that settles the case, huh?”

The arrival of the police had broken up the party. There were a few people still standing around, but most were hurrying out the door. Nancy turned to leave. “I'm not so sure, George. Gaetan is the obvious suspect, but I can't see him as a murderer—or as a kidnapper.”

Nancy's thoughts were racing as she and George returned to the car. If, as she suspected, Gaetan wasn't responsible for the kidnapping or Etienne's murder, she was back to square one.

“I want to check over all the evidence from a fresh perspective,” Nancy said. “I think we're dealing with a very clever criminal—someone who's able to cover his tracks very well.”

“What do you have in mind?” George asked.

“I want to investigate Tom Kragen again. I can't forget the fact that he has been following Bess around, pestering her for dates and taking pictures. And he has access to chemicals such as ether, which was used in both the kidnapping and the murder.”

They drove on for about fifteen minutes. As
they neared the residential section of River Heights, Nancy kept glancing into the rearview mirror. “What are you looking at, Nancy?” George asked curiously.

“That car with the broken headlight has been behind us ever since we left the warehouse,” Nancy said. “I'm going to try something. Hold on, George.”

Making sure the two-lane highway was clear in both directions, Nancy suddenly twisted the Mustang's steering wheel with a violent motion. The car barely slowed as it performed a nimble U-turn in the middle of the road.

The car that had been behind Nancy and George came to a confused halt as the Mustang spun around and passed it going the other way. Nancy caught a glimpse of the startled driver. She recognized the bearded, hulking man at once.