Nancy Drew awoke early one Saturday morning and sighed happily. "At last! The weekend is here! A day all to myself!"

The talented, smart, gorgeous, blue-eyed, titian-haired eighteen-year-old sleuth, who was the daughter of the famous lawyer Carson Drew, skipped downstairs and pulled out a frying pan to make an omelette. The phone rang loudly, startling her into dropping the pan. She raced to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Nancy!" gasped the voice on the other end. "This is Mr. Rogers, a postman from another country. Your fine reputation as a detective has spread thousands of miles, so when I woke up this morning to find my priceless silver lawn chair stolen, I called you immediately! There are a million clues all over the place, and although I threw most of them in the trash by mistake, there may be enough left for you to figure out the mystery, assuming you have enough money in your bank account to fly over here."

Before Nancy could answer, the phone on the other wall rang. She picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hello?" asked Mr. Rogers.

"Nancy!" Ned exclaimed from the other phone. "Hi!"

"Ned!" squeaked Nancy.

"I was just wondering, are you in the mood to go out for ice cream between horse riding lessons?"

"Oh, Ned, I'd love---"

"Hello?" asked Mr. Rogers.

"Who's the guy with you?" Ned asked suspiciously.

"I'm Mr. Rogers!" the postman shouted from the other phone, "and don't bother asking her to solve anything for you! You'll be happy to know Nancy is already engaged!"

"Engaged!?"

A dial tone signaled Mr. Rogers had hung up.

"Oh, Ned!" Nancy said, picking up the frying pan from the floor and stretching as far as the phone cord would stretch to reach the stove, "I just came across the most exciting mystery---"

The other phone rang again. Nancy cracked three eggs into the frying pan and answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello. We are zee company zat sells great cable and high definition televisions. Your TV is old and usele---"

"No! I'm not buying it, you inconsiderate pest!"

Ned gasped. "Well, fine! Be that way!"

"No, Ned! Wait!"

A dial tone greeted her.

"If you are not sure about your current cable company's rates," the salesman went on, "perhaps your husband or uncle..."

Nancy slammed the phone down and rushed to the stove to turn off the flame beneath her burning eggs.

"Augh! I'm late for my dance classes!" she lamented, eating the eggs as fast as possible. She threw her dish into the sink, raced out the door, jumped into her car, jumped back out, ran back inside, grabbed her dance bag, jumped back into the car, and drove as fast as possible to the dance studio. Although several police officers stopped her for speeding, they let her go on when they realized she was the daughter of Carson Drew, and thus would only speed for a good reason.

While passing her dance, painting, stunt riding, and brain surgery lessons with flying colors, Nancy pondered Mr. Roger's case. After speeding through the monster truck racing course like a pro, she stopped by a small cafe and called him.

"Nancy! Have you decided to take my case?" he asked excitedly.

"Mr. Rogers," asked Nancy, "do you have a cleaning lady with red hair in a bun and a turtle-shaped scar on her left elbow who comes in every Tuesday?"

"Why, yes," Mr. Rogers admitted, "I do."

"And does she have a husband?"

"Well, yes, she does," Mr. Rogers admitted again, "but what does this have to do with--?"

Nancy checked her watch. "I have to go to photography class in two minutes, but I'm betting he used latex gloves to open your front door, so he left no fingerprints, and borrowed your mail bag to carry the statue so he wouldn't leave wheelbarrow tracks. You'll probably find the statue in the secret passageway next to his bed." She checked her watch again. "Oh no, I'm late! I'll talk to you later, Mr. Rogers." She hung up on the gasping postman.

She picked up her bag of art supplies and engineering blueprints and walked toward the door, still amazed.

"I can't believe it," she marveled. "I actually solved a case without getting knocked out by the villains and locked in a closet!"

The End