Présentation de l'éditeur Hi, I'm Nancy Drew, and I've got a case to crack. Actually make that two cases. First a gorgeous Fabergé egg has been stolen. Who would have the heart to snatch such a precious family heirloom from someone new to town? Some housewarming that is! And if this isn't enough to keep me busy, someone's running through gardens and stomping on all the zucchinis. Needless to say, it's a big mess -- in more ways than one. Especially for Mr. Safer, who is suspected of squishing the squash. I'm pretty sure Mr. Safer's innocent. But who's the real vegetable vandal? Extrait Chapter One: Friends and Neighbors My name is Nancy Drew. My friends tell me I'm always looking for trouble, but that's not really true. It just seems to have a way of finding me. Take last week, for instance. I arrived home on Friday afternoon from a volunteer luncheon and stepped into the house to hear the sound of shouting. "...and if something isn't done about this, things are going to get ugly!" The angry voice rang through the empty front hallway. "I can guarantee that!" "Uh-oh," I muttered, immediately on the alert. I didn't recognize the voice, but I have a sort of sixth sense about anything odd or mysterious, and it started tingling right away. The shouting man sounded intense. Desperate, even. Definitely not business as usual for a quiet, lazy, Midwestern summer day. I hurried toward the source of the voice: my father's office. Dad has been both father and mother to me ever since my mom died when I was three years old, and I happen to think he's pretty great. And I'm not the only one who thinks so. If you ask anyone in our hometown of River Heights to name the best, most honest and respected attorney in town, Carson Drew will always be at the top of their list. His main office is downtown, but he also sometimes sees clients in the cozy, wood-paneled office on the first floor of our spacious colonial house. Tiptoeing toward the office, I brushed my shoulder-length hair out of the way and carefully pressed my ear to the door's polished oak surface. My friends would probably call it eavesdropping. I prefer to call it staying informed. My father was speaking now. "Let's just settle down for a moment," he said in his calmest, most authoritative voice. "I'm sure we can get to the bottom of this." "I certainly hope so!" the other man exclaimed, though his voice was a little quieter now. "If not, I'm perfectly ready to press charges. This is a violation of my rights as a tax-paying property owner." I tried to place the voice, which was beginning to seem familiar. It took me a second to notice the sound of footsteps walking toward the door. I jumped back just in time to avoid falling on my face as the door swung open into the office. "Nancy!" My father raised an eyebrow in my direction as he exited his office, obviously a little displeased to find me lurking in the hallway. A portly, well-dressed man walked out after him, his wavy gray hair in a mess, and beads of sweat dotting his brow. Dad gestured toward him. "You know our neighbor, Bradley Geffington." "Oh, right!" I exclaimed as the familiar voice clicked into place in my mind. Not only does Bradley Geffington live a couple of blocks away, but he manages the local bank where Dad and I have our accounts. "Er, that is, of course I know him. Nice to see you, Mr. Geffington." "Hello, Nancy." Bradley Geffington shook my hand, though he still seemed distracted and a little annoyed. He glanced over at my father. "I'm not going to rest until I get to the bottom of this, Carson," he said. "If Harold Safer is behind the damage to my property, he's going to pay. Mark my words." I blinked in surprise. Harold Safer is another homeowner in our quiet, tree-lined riverside neighborhood. He also owns the local cheese shop. He's a little eccentric, but generally mild mannered and well liked. "Excuse me, Mr. Geffington," I said. "If you don't mind my asking, just what is it t