Her ring was answered immediately, and she recognized the lilting brogue of the housekeeper. “Hello, Mrs. O’Hara,” she said. “This is Nancy. Nancy Drew.”

There was a sharp indrawn breath. “Ah, Nancy, it’s a dark day, isn’t it? How are you?”

“Fine, Mrs. O’Hara. Is my uncle Jon there?” The only response was a long silence. “Mrs. O’Hara, please,” Nancy begged. “You know how important this is.”

“Aye, that I do, Nancy. But his honor hasn’t been well, poor man, and this business with Mr. Carson has almost put him in his bed.”

“I’m sorry, but he can’t feel any worse than we do. May I speak to him?”

“He’s not home. And he’s not at the courthouse, either,” Mrs. O’Hara added hurriedly.

“What time do you think he’ll be back?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t know, and that’s the truth. Whenever it is, he won’t be taking calls. He’s that sick at heart.”

Nancy was determined not to give up. “When he gets back, would you ask if he’d see me? Please?”

A gusty sigh told her she had gotten past the first hurdle. “I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm to ask. I’ll call you and let you know.”

“I’d appreciate it very much, Mrs. O’Hara. Thank you.”

Nancy hung up, wondering if she could really count on Mrs. O’Hara’s help.

She glanced at the clock behind the sergeant’s desk. The afternoon seemed to be crawling by, and sitting around doing nothing made it feel that much longer. She wanted to get to work on her father’s case immediately.

Nancy turned to the reporter. “Ann, I need to know everything that’s happened so far. How about filling me in?”

“Sure.” Ann sat down on a bench and crossed her long legs. “I got an anonymous tip to check out the Mid-City Insurance Company. I found out that there was no such company. The address was a room about the size of a coffin, with a girl who answered the phone. Connie something.”

“I don’t know anything about insurance companies,” Nancy admitted. “But what’s wrong with using an answering service?”