Carolyn Keene - This Side of Evil

George frowned. “Sounds like a chemical.”

Suddenly Nancy looked up, smiling. “That’s it! Five hundred milligrams of something- mycin ! It’s a prescription for some sort of antibiotic!”

“The doctor’s office again!” Ned cried, snapping his fingers.

“Exactly,” Nancy agreed. “Another lead. I think we’re on the right track, don’t you? The sooner we talk to that doctor, the better.”

George touched her nose again. “As long as he doesn’t do anything to my nose,” she said defensively. She shot Nancy a pleading look.

“Don’t worry, George. He won’t get anywhere near your nose. Honest.” Nancy glanced again at the threatening note. What would she do if anything happened to either one of her friends? The thought was too frightening.

“Look, this blackmailer is obviously determined to cause some damage—and he doesn’t care who gets hurt.”

“We’re not worried, Nancy,” Ned said playfully. “If anything happens, you’ll protect us.”

“Thanks a lot.” Nancy rolled her eyes. But she knew Ned and George understood. “Now, maybe we should get to work.” She reached for the phone and dialed Ms. Amberton’s number.

“You nearly missed me,” Ashley Amberton said, when Nancy reached her. “I was going to leave a little early.”

“I’m sorry to call so late,” Nancy apologized. “But I need to ask you to set up an appointment for me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, with a man named Emile Dandridge—Dr. Emile Dandridge.”

There was a short silence. “Dr. Dandridge? The plastic surgeon?” Ms. Amberton replied. There was an odd note in her voice. “Why do you want to see him?”

Nancy told her about the conversation she and Ned had had with Lake Sinclair. She also mentioned that she was beginning to suspect someone in the doctor’s office was blackmailing Lake.

“And when we got back to the apartment,” Nancy went on, “I opened a cabinet door and narrowly missed getting a splash of liquid nitrogen in my face.”

“You’re all right, aren’t you?” Ms. Amberton asked quickly. “You’re not hurt?”

“Oh, no,” Nancy reassured her. “If it hadn’t been for Ned, though, I might have been blinded or badly burned.”

“Was there any damage to the stove?” Ms. Amberton asked. Hurriedly, she cleared her throat and added, “Or to the rest of the kitchen? Shall I get the locks changed?”

“No, everything’s okay,” Nancy said. “Although you might want to change the locks. There’s more, too.” When she finished telling her about the note, and the impression of the prescription she had discovered, Ms. Amberton gave a loud exclamation of surprise.

“I must admit, Nancy Drew,” she said with grudging admiration, “that you are a very perceptive young woman. I didn’t expect—I mean, it’s quite amazing that you were able to trace down the connection to Dr. Dandridge with such slim clues. I’m quite impressed.”

“How about that appointment? You could tell him that George wants to see him about getting her nose fixed.”

“I’ll do it immediately,” Ms. Amberton promised. “And, Nancy, congratulations.”

“For what?” Nancy asked, surprised.

“Why, on your narrow escape, of course,” Ms. Amberton said.

Nancy hung up, a puzzled frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?” George asked. “Isn’t she going to make the appointment?”

Nancy nodded, still frowning.

“Then what is it?” Ned demanded.

Nancy shook her head. “Nothing, I suppose.” There was something, some tiny thing that seemed out of place. But Nancy couldn’t think of what it was.

“Well, then, wouldn’t you say it’s time for dinner?” he asked. He turned to George. “And I think it’s George’s turn to pick the place to eat.”

Dr. Dandridge’s office was in a low, modern building that was secluded behind a high brick wall in the most fashionable part of town. The receptionist was sitting beside a bank of tall palms and exotic flowers at one end of a teak-paneled room, furnished with elegant chairs and sofas and luxurious Persian rugs. Several people were already waiting to see the doctor when Nancy and George arrived for George’s ten-thirty appointment.

George gave her name to the receptionist, and she nodded immediately. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Ms. Amberton called late yesterday afternoon. If you’ll just have a seat, I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.”

She came back less than a minute later. “Dr. Dandridge will see you now,” she said. The other patients all glared at Nancy and George as the receptionist led them down a carpeted hallway.

“Oh, by the way,” she said, “please tell Ms. Amberton that the staff enjoyed the candy she brought over last week. It was very kind of her to think of us—and so unexpected, too.”

Nancy shot George a questioning look as they entered the doctor’s office. It was even more luxurious than the waiting room. The two girls sat down in plush, upholstered chairs.

As soon as the nurse left, Nancy turned to George. “I never would have imagined that Ms. Amberton was the kind of person who would bring candy to a doctor’s staff—or flowers to a sick employee.”

“Well, maybe she’s not the coldhearted career woman she seems to be,” George suggested. She got up and wandered over to look at the framed diplomas that hung on one wall. There were lots of them.

“How does anybody ever have time enough to study for all those final exams?” she asked, amazed. “This guy must really be smart!”

Nancy came to stand behind George. “And fast, too,” she said, looking at the certificates. “According to these diplomas, he completed his residency six months after he got his medical degree. Usually it takes years.”

“Good afternoon,” a short, dapper-looking man said, coming through the door into the office. He was wearing a conservative navy blue suit instead of the usual white doctor’s coat. Nancy thought he looked more like one of her father’s lawyer friends than a doctor.

“I understand you wanted to see me about the possibility of undergoing a rhinoplasty,” he said, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. “Which one of you is the patient?”

“A rhino—rhinoplasty?” George repeated in dismay. “Oh, it’s nothing like that . I just want a nose job, that’s all.” She felt her nose. “You see, it’s always been a little too long. And there’s a hump in the middle where I got hit by a softball when I was ten.”

Dr. Dandridge laughed. “My dear young woman,” he said, “a rhinoplasty is a ‘nose job,’ as you put it.” He sat down behind his desk.

“Oh.” George walked back to the desk and sat down, too, flushing with embarrassment.

Nancy joined her. “Actually, Dr. Dandridge,” she said, “I’ve been having trouble with my nose, too, lately.”

Solicitously, the doctor leaned forward. “What kind of trouble?”

“I keep smelling something,” Nancy replied. “Something terribly wrong.”

“Well, we can examine you, too, young lady. Sometimes the sinus passages become blocked, and—”

“I’m not sure an examination would do any good, Doctor,” Nancy explained, watching him closely. “Because what I keep smelling is blackmail.”

“B-b-blackmail?” he stuttered, staring at Nancy.

“That’s right,” Nancy said. “You see, I’m a private detective. I’ve been hired by Cherbourg Industries to investigate a blackmailing ring. I have reason—very good reason—to believe that somebody in your office is the blackmailer.”

“In my office?” Dr. Dandridge gulped. His face was white now. “What makes you think that?”

“One of the blackmail victims is a young woman named Lake Sinclair. She’s been paying the bills for the plastic surgery you’ve been doing on a young girl. Lake claims that no one knows about her involvement with your patient except the staff in your office—and you, of course.”