Very Deadly Yours by Carolyn Keene

she could use a part-time assistant. I’ll probably just be here a few days, until things are a little more in control.”
    â€œWell, you can replace her anytime, as far as I’m concerned,” said Steve. “I couldn’t think of a worse person to handle the Personals.”
    â€œActually, Lena’s pretty nice,” Nancy said casually. “But why do you say that?”
    Steve snorted. “Writing one of those ads is an art. Why should someone have to hand it over to a woman who has no idea what a personal life even is? I bet she never goes home. She probably lives here.”
    â€œSo you read the Personals?” Nancy asked quickly.
    â€œOf course he does,” Todd said, staggering out of the supply closet with his arms full of boxes. “One of these days, he’s going to meet the ideal woman. So’s Bill. So am I, for that matter. We’re taking bets on who’ll be first—unless you ’re the ideal woman. Are you?”
    â€œObviously,” Nancy said brightly.
    Todd clapped her on the back, dropping a whole box of pens onto the floor. “Way to go!” he crowed. “Well, which one of us lucky bachelors wins the dream date?”
    This was getting a little out of hand. “Sorry, guys, I’m already taken,” Nancy said. She had to force herself to put Ned out of her mind as she spoke. It was impossible to keep bantering with them when just the thought of him made her want to rush to the hospital to be with him.
    â€œCould you tell me a little bit about what you all do here?” she asked. She didn’t think it would have any bearing on the case, but she’d learned to collect information—no matter what kind—whenever she had the chance. She could never tell when it would be useful.
    Bill Stark laughed. “We just about run the paper, that’s all. Giving out supplies is the least of it. We’re really kind of like a little private post office down here. We deliver all the incoming mail to the staff and send out all the outgoing. Wesend telexes and telegrams and okay all the overnight deliveries—and you wouldn’t believe how often these people say something has to get there overnight. Also, we have the best coffee machine.” He gestured toward a scarred old percolator on the counter.
    â€œYou say you deliver the incoming mail?” Nancy said. “Do you open it first?”
    All three men looked slightly surprised. “Well, yes,” Todd said at last. “We’re supposed to. It’s not as if we’re trying to snoop around or anything.”
    â€œOh, I didn’t mean to suggest that,” Nancy hastened to assure him. “I was just wondering if you read the Personals ads before you take them to Lena.”
    â€œNo, no! Anything for her is supposed to be delivered unopened,” said Bill. “Mr. Whittaker wants to keep the Personals as confidential as possible.”
    â€œWhat about the people who send in the ads to her? Do you ever see any of them?” Nancy asked.
    â€œWait a minute,” Steve put in. “Why don’t you just ask Lena Verle? What are you trying to get out of us, Nancy?”
    â€œNothing!” Nancy said. “It’s just that I’m new on the job, and—” Suddenly she decided to level with them—at least partway. There couldn’t be any harm in telling them about the mysterious ad aimed at her.
    â€œI shouldn’t tell you guys this, but maybe you can help me,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve only been here for two days, and it’s starting to look as though someone has it in for me. Have any of you read today’s paper yet?”
    All three of them shook their heads.
    â€œWell, there’s an ad that I think’s written to me, and—wait, I’ll get a copy.” She dashed out of the mailroom and back to her desk.
    â€œHey! Where’s my stuff?” Lucy