After Becky had left, Nancy sat for a few moments, thinking. She had her first real lead now. The blackmailer had made a careless mistake in mixing up the letters. It proved that Ashley Amberton had been right when she said there might be other victims. But who was Annette LeBeau, and how could she afford to hand over sixty thousand dollars? Nancy read the letter again. The blackmailer mentioned her fans. Was she a movie star?

On the way back to Ms. Amberton’s office, Nancy looked at her watch. It was only four o’clock, plenty of time. She stopped at a pay phone and called the apartment. Ned answered.

“I hope you’ve had enough sightseeing,” Nancy told him, “because there’s work to be done. I need you to run over to the Journal morgue and find out everything you can about Annette LeBeau and Dutch Medina.”

“No problem,” Ned agreed. “Are you on to something already?”

“I think so. It looks like our blackmailer has expanded his territory,” Nancy explained. “He might even be getting into murder. I’ll tell you about it tonight.”

“Speaking of tonight,” Ned said, teasing her by speaking in an exaggerated French accent, “I’ve found a great little place for dinner—a romantic dinner just for two.”

Nancy giggled. “Sounds terrific, Nickerson,” she said. “But don’t forget about George.”

“Right,” Ned said with a resigned sigh. “Dinner for three.”

In Ms. Amberton’s office, Nancy reported what she had learned from the blackmail victims.

“Do you think Monique really tried to kill herself?” Ashley Amberton asked.

Nancy shook her head. “You’d know that better than I would, but I’d say that her fear is genuine. She really thinks somebody tried to kill her. Of course, it is possible that she just got sleepy and forgot how many pills she’d taken.”

Ms. Amberton sat down in her leather chair. “I don’t like it,” she said, tapping her red nails on the desk. “This is getting serious.”