Note: This story is alternate canon/alternate universe. It contains some minor adult language and some minor suggestive content. Also, Nancy's investigating a murder case, so if the idea of that doesn't appeal to you, please don't read. Otherwise, enjoy!

"Well, if it isn't my favorite daughter."

Nancy Drew wrinkled her nose at her father as she sat down opposite him. The large dining table was already set with the majority of their meal, and in the June heat, Hannah Gruen had opted for a light dinner of roasted chicken with marinated cucumber salad and fruity gelatin for dessert. Nancy's father, Carson Drew, looked at the spread before him with some relish, before Hannah brought the pitcher of lemonade with her and sat down.

"Your only daughter," Nancy teased him in return, tossing her reddish-gold hair before she gathered it into a ponytail. While she could normally be described as strawberry blonde, her best friend George Fayne had been encouraging Nancy to accompany her on regular running excursions, and her hair was considerably more golden than it had been at the beginning of the summer. Her skin was glowing too, and being able to relax after the stress of the spring semester felt amazing.

Nancy and both her best friends, George and George's cousin Bess Marvin, were all students at the University of Chicago, and all three of them were home for the summer break. They had all been too tired of schoolwork and classes to even consider enrolling for summer session, and while George had filled her time with triathlon preparations, and Bess had made up for all the time she hadn't spent shopping, that had left Nancy at loose ends. She was looking forward to a trip to the lake with her two best friends in the world to break up the monotony, but in all honesty, she was bored in the meantime, and impatient for a mystery.

Most evenings her father came home with some point of law or intriguing case to discuss with her, and at least she had been able to look forward to that. Carson Drew was the most well-respected criminal defense attorney in the state, and his busy schedule had meant that, during the school year, Nancy hadn't been able to spend nearly enough time with him. She had begged him to take a few days off, just so they could do something together, and she was pretty sure she had him almost convinced.

Her father looked over at her once they had pronounced Hannah's roasted chicken utterly delectable. "I know you're eager for some excitement," he said. "Would you be interested in helping me with a case?"

"I'd love to," Nancy declared, her blue eyes sparkling. "What kind of case?"

"The kind of case that means you'll be putting all that Agatha Christie reading to good use," her father told her. "A locked-room mystery. Or, more accurately, a locked-ship mystery."

Nancy had absolutely no interest in wasting her time with eating when it came to hearing about a new case, but Hannah would chastise her for not finishing her meal. "Okay, I'm definitely intrigued."

As they finished their dinner and sampled the dessert, Carson filled her in on the details. Carson's parents and grandparents were from the New York area, and his sister Eloise still lived there; he kept his license to practice in New York for sentimental reasons, and partially because he was in charge of the family trust and his sister's business affairs, whenever she had need. His reputation and connections meant that occasionally he was asked to take a case that would be tried in the state.

"It's a murder case, Nan."

"I gathered as much," she admitted, spooning up a bite of the gelatin and a chunk of pineapple.

"The preliminary report is that it was an accident, but the prime suspect is a man named Mark Armstruther."

"Your client?"

Carson nodded. "The police have held off on making an arrest, but Armstruther's been questioned, and told not to leave the vicinity. So we need to go to him and figure out what happened. The notoriety on this case is going to be significant, and public relations are already a nightmare for the company involved..."

"So what happened?" Nancy asked, a little impatient.

Carson chuckled. "According to who?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Good point," she conceded.

"Here's the scenario, Detective Drew," Carson said, and quickly took another bite of his dessert. "The major investors who make up the Bennett Group were on a yacht off the coast to discuss a confidential matter that had come up, one that has caused major dissension in the group."

"The locked-door part," she said with a nod.

Carson nodded. "That means, on the one hand, we know who the suspects are; the police didn't find any indication that anyone else boarded the boat, and all the members were there when the police arrived."

Nancy nodded. "All right."

"The victim is Kate Gordon, and she was the daughter of the head of the board, Carlton Gordon. She was shot and killed, and when her body was discovered, she was already dead. No dying declaration, no note."

"And the motive?" Nancy asked, the wheels already turning. "Armstruther must have had one, I'm guessing."

Carson nodded. "He was the only member of the board who didn't agree with whatever the matter was—and no, he hasn't told me what it was, only that it is a confidential business matter."

"Were he and Kate...?" Nancy raised an eyebrow.

"Not to my knowledge. But I'm sure we can ask him that after we arrive."

Nancy nodded. "So, other than Mark..."

"Other than Mark and the two Gordons, the board is made up of five other members. I'd say we can eliminate Carlton, since he's Kate's father, but..."

"Stranger things have happened," Nancy said with a little nod. "A case of mistaken identity, for instance. A misunderstanding."

"Right. And, of course, Mark has the motive."

Nancy pursed her lips. "But we just need an alternate theory of the crime. Right, Dad?"

"Right," Carson said with a fond smile. "And that's where you come in, sweetheart.

"All the other members—the Bennett Group is just a set of investors, and so we're not looking at a company, not really. The major motivation here is almost certainly money."

"Who stood to gain from Kate's death? Who inherits under the terms of her will?"

"She died intestate." Carson paused. "On the one hand, the premeditation—someone had to bring a gun on board, after all—indicates that this wasn't a crime of passion, that it was coldly calculated. On the other hand, if someone wanted Kate dead, and wanted to shoot her, it would be infinitely easier to make it look like a mugging. Shoot her on the street, arrange it that way."

Hannah, who had been clearing the table, shook her head at the two of them. "I'll be finishing up some canning," she told them, wrinkling her nose. "All this murder talk... if I wanted that, I'd watch one of those crime shows."

They took the hint, waiting until she was out of the room to continue. "So, on the one hand, we have a limited number of suspects," Nancy continued slowly. "On the other hand, if this was premeditated, the killer had to know that he—or she? Are there female members of the board?"

"One other," Carson confirmed.

"Whoever did this would know that he or she would be a suspect."

"And maybe that's the point."

Nancy tilted her head. "Oh?"

Carson nodded. "Mark feels he was intentionally framed for the murder, to get him out of the way, and this meeting was the perfect way to arrange that. The problem is that he has no idea which one of the other board members might have done it, because they all have a motive to frame him."

"So we'll need to start with interviews of the other suspects."

"Which I will leave up to you."

Nancy propped her chin on her hand. "Undercover."

"Right. I can't be involved in the interviews; once they knew who I was, they would clam up, or at least start telling less of the truth."

"And you have a very well-known face," Nancy pointed out with a smile.

Carson chuckled. "Anyway. Your cover identity will be rather unique. You'll be going in as a potential investor to join the group, in Mark's absence, who is naturally curious about Kate's death..."

Nancy raised her left hand. "So I have how long to become conversant in the world of investing...?"

Carson smiled. "You don't. I seem to remember you telling me that your brain was officially at capacity after the spring semester."

"For book-learnin', anyway," Nancy teased. "But I'll be honest, it would be tough to come across as an expert in this quickly."

"That's where Humphrey comes in."

It took a second for Nancy to place the name. "Oh. Oh, please—Humphrey Corbett?"

Carson nodded. "The very same. And, Nancy..."

She let out a long, disappointed sigh. "Dad, look, I know you're best friends with his dad..."

"And he's not so bad," Carson argued. "Maybe a little..."

"Pompous? Egotistical? Totally full of himself? And nursing a not-so-secret crush on me?" Nancy finished, propping her chin on her hand again.

"Okay, so he's awkward. But he's got the knowledge and expertise you need."

"So he's going to get me up to speed?"

"Well, we have to talk to him, but I thought it might make more sense for him to pose as the potential investor, and you as his assistant."

Nancy's frown deepened. "You mean secretary."

"Administrative assistant."

"Your euphemisms are unappreciated," Nancy groaned.

Carson chuckled. "Dear, I'm sure it won't be as bad as all that."

She sighed. "Well, if nothing else, I'm sure I'll solve the case even faster, if Humphrey's slobbering over me all the time."

"I'm sure he doesn't slobber..."

"Objection sustained," Nancy said, and Carson chuckled again. "All right. Well, at least I won't get caught in some lie... as long as Humphrey really does know his stuff."

"I have it on good authority that he does."

"And while he's sweet-talking our suspects..."

"You're poking around, asking for financials, anything that will help us figure out the motive behind Kate's death." Carson spooned up the last bite of his dessert.

"Sounds like a lot of legwork. So when do we leave?"

"I need to finalize plans with Humphrey, but considering the urgency that the police are feeling over this, the sooner the better."

"Then I'd better go pack," Nancy said with a grin.

On the way up the stairs, Nancy felt exhilarated at the prospect of a new mystery. The only stumbling block was having to deal with Humphrey.

Humphrey Corbett was the son of one of Carson's old friends, and Humphrey and Nancy were only a few years apart in age. On their first meeting, since he was older than she was, Nancy had been just a little awed by him, but that hadn't lasted long. He had tried incredibly hard to impress her by proving his superiority, and even when she was in elementary school, Nancy had been more perceptive than most of her peers. They had seen each other while attending social events with their parents, at the River Heights Country Club and in Chicago, and while Nancy was polite to him, she ignored all his other innuendoes and hints, hoping that he would eventually lose interest in her.

Nancy sighed. She knew her father meant well, and she doubted that he had picked Humphrey strictly based on that long-standing relationship. As far as she knew, Humphrey really was the financial whiz her father had promised. But she also knew that her father didn't want her to be lonely.

And Nancy wasn't lonely, most of the time. She had been solving mysteries practically since she had been able to walk and talk, and her best friends had always been there for her. George was skilled in judo, and Bess was always willing to talk—or call the police, should the need arise. As the three of them had often joked, if the activity could result in a broken nail, Bess would be at least a little reluctant to join in.

But Nancy had watched Bess fall for boyfriend after boyfriend, and a part of her had wished she could throw herself into a relationship the way Bess did, or love as deeply as she did. Bess seemed to feel that ineffable "spark" with so many guys, and Nancy never had. She had dated Don Cameron when she was in high school, and while Don was a perfectly nice guy—she still saw him around River Heights every now and then, and he treated her just as warmly as he ever had—she had never felt anything more than a fondness for him.

Don was guilty of what so many of her boyfriends had been guilty of. They either didn't care about her cases and were supremely annoyed when she had to break dates with them, or were so worried about her safety that they insisted on accompanying her—and, in those cases, invariably insisted that she give up solving mysteries. Don was one of the latter, and he never understood why she couldn't just leave the detecting to the police or other authorities.

Nancy sighed. On the other hand, many of the men she met weren't really relationship material, especially those she met on cases. Some of the most charming men whose acquaintance she had ever made had turned out to be devastatingly handsome sociopaths. With a pang she remembered the gorgeous long-lashed eyes of Daryl Gray, and how that case had turned out. It never worked out with the others, either, the ones who turned out to have no connection to the case but wanted to spend time with her. They always fell into one of those groups, overly protective or dismissive, and that attraction she felt always turned out nothing more than a flash of brief but intense interest. Meeting someone new always felt like it could work, but it never did.

Nancy had been infatuated a few times. In love? She couldn't honestly say that had ever happened.

Bess was always positive that eventually Nancy would find a guy who could be both protective and helpful, who valued her work and wanted to help her with it without stifling her. Nancy had grown more and more discouraged, though. It was easier for Bess, whose life was generally a lot less complicated.

Maybe George had it right, Nancy mused. George took a while to open up to guys once they expressed interest, and they had to really pursue her before she even gave them a chance.

As she lugged out her suitcase, though, Nancy chuckled a little to herself. No matter what, she was absolutely sure of one thing: Humphrey Corbett definitely wasn't the guy for her.

Since she would be impersonating a secretary—executive assistant, she corrected herself wryly—Nancy looked through her wardrobe, considering. Her favorite power suit was clean and ready to wear, but she had a bad feeling, and when she tried it on, she found she was right. All the running and exercise with George during spring semester and over the past month had left her more toned, but more slender as well, and her suit was no longer form-fitting. Nancy didn't mind so much. The less flattering her clothes were, the less she would stand out, and the less Humphrey would have to fixate on while they were questioning suspects. She definitely didn't want to give him the wrong idea by dressing too alluringly.

Nancy had just shrugged out of the jacket when her father called up the stairs. "Nan? Humphrey's on the phone."

With a stifled sigh, Nancy crossed to the extension and picked it up, focusing on her open closet door instead of whatever he was about to say. "Hello?"

"So you need my help, Nancy?" Humphrey's tone was almost gloating, and Nancy held the phone's receiver away from her mouth as she sighed.

"No. My father does," she pointed out. "We'll just be doing legwork for him, and—"

"Legwork. I like the sound of that."

Nancy pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting the urge to rise to the bait. "Research, then. Our relationship here is going to be strictly professional. You'll have your own room, and..."

"All the better," Humphrey purred. "I'd hate for us to be... interrupted."

Nancy let out a frustrated sigh. "For the last damn time, Humphrey, that is totally off the table," she said firmly. "I really appreciate your offer to help, and that's it."

"And that gratitude..."

"Is of a strictly platonic nature."

Humphrey sighed, too. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he said philosophically. "Because you may have been a gangly tomboy, but you have definitely become a fine-lookin' woman."

"Goodbye, Humphrey," Nancy said, then hung up the phone.

She had half-packed her suitcase with her more professional-looking attire when she checked the time. If she had any chance of reaching Bess, she had a feeling she should go ahead and call.

"Hello?"

"Hey Bess. Busy?"

"Not until my nails dry," Bess chuckled. "So what's up? We still on for the lake trip?"

"Um..."

Bess sighed. "I know that 'um,'" she said. "What kind of case?"

"It's a case I'm helping my dad with. In New York. With any luck it'll only take a few days, and then we'll be back and sunbathing in no time."

"You don't happen to need any help, do you? Fifth Avenue is particularly sale-tastic this time of year..."

"Is it?" Nancy wrinkled her nose.

"In a 'not at all' sort of way," Bess sighed. "With my luck, anyway. So what kind of case?"

"Murder case. Lots of legwork and research. And I will be undercover for it, but nothing fun, honestly. Playing a secretary."

Bess groaned. "Hmm. Well, it sounds like you wouldn't really need my help, and I'd be free to shop..."

"Pretty much," Nancy confirmed. "I can ask Dad if he wants to get a suite so you and George...?"

"Isn't her triathlon-thingie this week?"

"Shit. Yeah." The way Bess almost entirely refused to learn the correct terms for her cousin's activities was almost cute.

"Eh. I think I'll get some more tanning in and cheer George on while she single-handedly rows a boat across the Atlantic or whatever the hell she's doing, and hope for a better case. You think you can whip up something that will require me to impersonate a super-gorgeous socialite who gets free stuff wherever she goes?"

Nancy laughed. "I'll be sure to alert you as soon as one of those comes up," she promised. "And I really am sorry about delaying the trip."

Bess made a dismissive sound. "We've got all summer. It's fine, Nan."

"And, once you hear this, I'm sure you'll be happy you made that choice..."

"Seriously? Were you trying to get me to come along under false pretenses?" Bess dropped her voice. "Is it some crazy stalker going after blonde-haired blue-eyed girls?"

"No! No, of course not, Bess. I'd never put you in danger like that."

"And that's why you're my best friend." Bess paused. "But he better not be going after redheaded blue-eyed detectives, either."

"Not that. It's who's coming along with us." Nancy paused, aware that she was doing so for dramatic effect. "Humphrey."

Bess considered. "Oh. Oh. Humphrey? Like always-panting-after-you, douchebag-extraordinaire Humphrey?"

"The very same," Nancy said grimly.

"Oh man. Well, now I'm torn."

"How so?"

"On the one hand, I want to come along and defend you from the nefarious clutches of that—that octopus. On the other hand... ugh."

"Yep. Exactly." Nancy sat down at the edge of her bed. "I'll keep you up to date, though, and if he gets out of control, I'll just mace him and try one of George's judo holds."

"That'll teach him. For a few seconds, anyway," Bess said with a chuckle.

The next morning, Nancy woke to the smell of French toast and bounded down the stairs after tossing her hair into a ponytail. "Morning," she greeted her father with a kiss on the cheek, already grinning in anticipation of breakfast.

"Morning," he replied with a smile, flipping a slice. "I'm going to go in this morning and see if there have been any new developments, and make our travel arrangements. Are you already packed and ready to go, Detective?"

"You mean secretary," she teased him. "And yes. My power suit is a little too big for me, not to mention a few years old, so I might just have to borrow your gold card once we get to New York...?"

Carson shook his head, chuckling, but he had never denied Nancy anything, and she knew he was teasing. "We'll just see about that."

Her father's French toast was delicious, as it always was, and Nancy checked her suitcase four times to make sure she was fully packed and hadn't forgotten anything, waiting impatiently for her father's call. In the meantime she called George and wished her friend luck with the triathlon, telling her that with any luck, if she was able to solve the case quickly, she would be there to cheer her on. George wished her luck on the case, and then Nancy sat down on the living room couch, flipping through the channels faster than she could possibly see the shows, her foot tapping impatiently against the carpet.

"Calm down," Hannah chastised her. "You're so fidgety, Nancy!"

Nancy glanced over at the longtime housekeeper. Hannah had her crochet needles and yarn out, and from the colors, Nancy was pretty sure that she had just discovered her sister's newest-announced grandchild was a girl. "Sorry," she apologized. "I wish I knew when we were leaving!"

When the phone rang an hour later, Nancy pounced on it before Hannah could even think about it. "Drew residence," she said breathlessly.

Her father chuckled on the other end. "Someone sounds like she's been waiting practically on top of the phone," he said. "Sweetheart, I have some bad news."

Nancy's heart sank. "Has he been arrested?"

"Not yet. But one of my other clients here has a grand-jury appearance scheduled for tomorrow and I have to be here for it. I've been trying to get it delayed, but the judge won't hear of it. Do you mind heading to New York without me and starting on the case?"

"With Humphrey," Nancy said, with a sigh.

"He said he would be available today if we needed him," her father reported. "I'll try to get up there as quickly as I can..."

"And in the meantime, I'll just keep you posted with updates," Nancy said. "No, it's okay. The faster I get started, the more quickly we'll be able to figure out who committed the murder."

"Use my frequent flyer miles and book yourself a flight, all right, Nan? And you can use the gold card for a hotel room."

"For me alone, right?"

"Of course," Carson said, sounding a little puzzled. "I mean, unless Bess and George are going with you...?"

"Not this time. I just—Humphrey will have his own room."

"Of course," Carson replied. "Did you think...?"

"No. I just have a feeling he might have."

"I definitely hope not. And if he tries anything inappropriate, please let me know—"

"I can handle him," Nancy said with a chuckle. "Just another minor inconvenience. Let me go ahead and look at flights."

"And remember, Nan. Tread carefully. From everything Mark told me, these people are very good liars, and finding a motive in all this might take a lot of untangling."

"Duly noted."

"Be careful, keep me posted, and make me proud."

She smiled. "I'll do my best, Dad."