The sound of the old Crowley Clock ticking away through the night had kept the famous teenage sleuth Nancy Drew awake for hours on this dreary and rainy November day.
With one eye open she glanced askance at her bedroom doorway as the sounds of the melodious tick tock drifted upstairs. With haste, she threw off her covers and jumped out of bed. She stepped into her slippers and snuck down the stairs of the Drew home careful not to awaken housekeeper Hannah Gruen and her father Carson Drew.
Her faithful dog Togo was curled up sleeping on his bed by the fireplace where the Crowley clock sat. Nancy glanced at the clock and rolled her eyes. Last night, she’d forgot to set it back an hour before going to bed after the Halloween party at her friend Bess Marvin’s house. She dreaded the yearly clock changing as it was so dreadfully boring as there was nothing mysterious about it.
As she stood and stared at the clock, a plan began for formulate in her head. “How clever,” she thought as she smiled triumphantly!
She ran upstairs kicking her slippers to the corners of her room and got ready for the big day ahead. Smartly dressed in her favorite blue dress, she glanced at herself in the mirror and realized she’d forgotten her trusty cloche hat. Ensemble complete, with confidence she bounded down the stairs to the sounds of the house awakening.
Hannah was bustling about the kitchen making coffee and waffles. Her father Carson was heading into his study to go over his latest case. Togo was chewing on his favorite stick. And then there was that darn Crowley clock practically challenging her from the mantel with its incessant tick tock.
After the best steaming hot waffles this side of the Muskoka, Nancy announced she was off on an adventure. With the Crowley clock tucked under her arm, she started to head for her blue roadster when Carson queried, “Where are you taking that old clock, Nancy?”
“Oh, this old thing,” Nancy stalled looking at the clock and back at her curious father. “I’m taking it over to George Fayne’s so she can tinker with it. I might let her keep it for a while too as she always enjoyed hearing about how I solved my first case.” Nancy smiled brightly, hoping that Carson wouldn’t suspect anything was up.
Carson stared at Nancy for a beat and then quipped, “Better remember to set it back an hour, Nancy!” With a wink as if he was intuitively in on the plan, he went back to his study. Nancy turned and practically ran outside to her roadster.
Instead of heading toward Bess and George’s homes, she turned north onto the River Road to head along the Muskoka River, winding her way through River Heights. Taking a side road across the river, she headed into the woods. Not a soul was stirring about, even the forest animals were still slumbering at this early hour.
Parking at the side of the turnoff to Moon Lake, she saw the old Twin Elms estate in the distance. Solving The Hidden Staircase at Twin Elms was one of her favorite mysteries. Nostalgically, she glanced at the old Crowly Clock sitting on her passenger seat. “Now don’t you get me all nostalgic too, you old clock!” She frowned and turned back to the view ahead. Spotting a path into the woods, she shook her head with resolve as if to ward off all thoughts of doubt that were starting to percolate in her keen mind.
Nancy marched into the woods carrying the old Clock along with a small shovel she kept in her roadster. Looking furtively about, she hoped she wouldn’t be seen by anyone as she slipped behind a tree. Seeing that the coast was clear, she found a spot to dig a small hole. She’d brought a wooden box with her and encased the clock inside. Sighing, she shoved the box into the hole and began to cover it with dirt.
“You were a great prize. Memories of my first case solved! But I’m tired of falling back every year and springing forward with you. I’d much rather be solving mysteries than changing old clocks! Enough is enough. I’ve got a new case to focus on now, some ghostly shenanigans around some place called Blackwood Hall. I’ve no time to spare on this clock changing business. Goodbye…and thanks for the memories…” As if eulogizing the old clock, she smoothed the last bit of dirt over the clock and its final resting place.
But then as she turned to head back to her roadster, she could hear faintly the sounds of the old clock as if crying out to her. “Tick tock. Tick tock.” It was as if the clock was alive and haunting her from the depths of its forest grave. Nancy turned and sprinted to her roadster and hopped inside. She tore off through the woods driving as fast as she dared. As if distance between her and that old tick tocker would erase what she had done. It would take a long time before the old clock would stop haunting her at night in her dreams.
For years the missing clock became the stuff of legends. A strange disappearance never solved. Burgled from the Drew home by swindlers. Pawned by George Fayne to pay for Judo lessons. Hidden away in the depths of the Smithsonian along with Carolyn Keene’s old typewriter. So many stories, and Nancy would just smile sweetly when asked about it and change the subject. Only Nancy Drew would ever know the secret of what happened to the old Crowley Clock that stormy November day…































