A/N: Okay – so I have not read a Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys story in many a year, I am sorry to admit. So, this particular story will be lacking in many of the newer developments that have taken place over the previous decade. I have written it as I see fit, and if that bothers you, kindly consider this tale to be of the AU variety. It takes place a few years after those lovely CaseFiles I was so fond of...

Who's That Girl?

By TesubCalle

Ch. 1

"Frank, who does that waitress remind you of?"

Blonde, twenty-something Joe Hardy was addressing his older brother. The hostess of a small bistro in New York's Greenwich Village had just seated the pair, and for a moment, Joe thought he had spotted a familiar face.

"Which one?" Frank asked, looking up from his menu.

Dark-haired and older than Joe by a year, Frank quickly cast his eyes around the room.

"Um, you can't see her now...It was an impression, really," Joe responded. "She had similar facial features and the same body-type as Nancy Drew. Wait, here she comes. I think she's going to be our server."

A slim, attractive young white woman wearing a light pink blouse and black slacks approached the Hardys. She had an inviting smile on her face that radiated warmth and intelligence. Something flickered across her blue eyes for a moment when she saw them. The smile disappeared for a split second, but then quickly returned.

Frank noticed that her hair length, just past the jaw-line, was dark blonde with randomly placed streaks. Not exactly the way I remember Nancy's hairstyle, he thought, and she's made no indication she knows who we are – yet. The brothers exchanged careful glances. The unspoken thought between the two of them was: Tread carefully.

"What can I get you fellows to start with tonight?" the waitress asked them. "Something to drink? Appetizer?"

Her mild, Mid-Western accent cemented in Joe's mind they must be speaking to their old colleague and friend.

"Oh, uh...I'll have a...Budweiser...please, miss." Joe said, aware there had been an awkward silence between the time she had asked and the time he had answered.

"The same for me, too, please," Frank said.

"Okay. Two Buds, coming up."

She swiftly turned around to fill the drink orders.

"She sure looks like Nancy to me, except the hair, maybe," Joe said quietly to Frank. "But her nametag says 'Molly'."

"I agree she looks like almost exactly like Nancy. But what's she doing in New York? She hasn't said a word to either of us that she recognizes us. That's not like Nancy...She's usually happy to see us. Maybe she's on a case, and she's working incognito."

"The thought crossed my mind, too," said Joe. "If so, I wonder what it is! Been a while since we've worked on something as a team, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, it has," Frank said wistfully.

The trio had indeed worked together on several occasions, often by chance than by design. Even in those unexpected situations, they always welcomed the opportunity to use their detecting skills together. They had an impressive rate of solving crimes, bringing down even internationally wanted fugitives and criminals.

The Nancy Drew-look-alike server returned, placing mugs of Budweiser in front of the Hardys. "Here you go," she said, "two Buds."

"Pardon me, miss," Joe said, always the more impetuous of the brothers, "but you remind me an awful lot of a good friend of ours. Her name is Nancy Drew, and she's from River Heights."

He was dearly hoping this young woman would drop them a clue as to her identity; perhaps communicate to them in a secret manner that she was indeed working undercover. In the past, asking an erroneous question like the one he just had would get Nancy to give them some hints as to her current status.

"Nancy Drew, huh?" she replied with a blank look on her face. "Well, that's a new one on me. Sorry, my name is Molly, as you can tell from my nametag. But I guess we all have our own doubles out there somewhere, don't we?"

"Guess so," Joe mumbled, disappointed his ploy had failed.

'Molly' said, "I'll let you guys have a few more minutes to look through the menu, is that okay?"

"Thanks, that would be fine," Frank said, and watched her disappear around a corner booth.

"I could have sworn she was Nancy," Joe said glumly.

"I want to call you an idiot for pulling that stunt," Frank admonished, "but I guess no harm was done. Gotta say, I was pretty convinced she was Nancy, too. Even the Nancy we know would have found some way to tell us she was on a case by now."

"It also wouldn't be the first time we got identities mistaken..."

Frank looked sharply at Joe. "What do you mean?"

"Just...Iola," Joe finally whispered. "I was just thinking about Iola, and how badly I wanted that other girl to be her..."

Frank softened. "I know, pal...I know."

"Do you still think there's no chance 'Molly' could be Nancy?" Joe said, quickly trying to push past his painful memories of his murdered girlfriend.

"Well, Nancy's a bright girl," Frank said. "If she's on to something big, it might require her to keep her real identity secret – even from us. And if that's the case, we really have to respect her wishes in that regard."

"You're right. Still, I'm kinda jealous! If that 'Molly' is Nancy, and she's here trying to solve a case, I want in on it, too."

"I feel the same way you do, pal. But we're not in New York to work. We're here for fun. Now, do you know what you're going to have, or do I have to order for you?"

Joe grinned and picked up his menu.

"Are you guys ready to order now?"

A new voice made the Hardys jump. The brothers looked up and instead of the Nancy look-alike, a pretty petite young black woman with expressive eyes that would never need mascara stood before them. Her nametag said 'Yolanda'.

"I didn't mean to startle you," she said apologetically. Her voice was definitely that of a New York native.

"Er – what happened to Molly?" Joe asked.

"Molly? Oh, I'm sorry about that. She had to leave in a hurry. She told the manager she hasn't been feeling well all day." Yolanda said. "Guess she finally couldn't take it anymore and went home."

"I see," Joe said. "That's too bad. Hope she gets better soon."

"Yolanda, can you tell me how long Molly's been working here?" Frank asked.

"Coupla months, maybe...Not more than that, I don't think," Yolanda replied, after thinking for a few moments.

The brothers eyed each other surreptitiously. Was it a mere coincidence that 'Molly' had taken off as quickly as she had?

"So...Do you fellas know what you're eating tonight or do you need more time?" Yolanda asked.

"I'll take the baked ravioli." Frank said absently, his mind still preoccupied with the sudden departure of 'Molly'.

"Me, too," Joe said.

"Two baked raviolis, then," Yolanda said, and cleared their menus away as she left to place their orders in the kitchen.

"Something's up," Frank said quietly to his brother.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Joe responded. "I just wish I knew what it was..."

The young woman who called herself 'Molly' was having a hard time controlling her breathing. She could feel her heart pounding, and even in the cool Fall air, beads of perspiration were forming on her brow. She struggled with the keys to her vehicle; a third or possibly fourth-hand Toyota. Driving as speedily as she dared (she certainly didn't need the police to stop her tonight) she tried to calm herself. 'Molly' desperately wished the two gentlemen she encountered in the bistro had never walked in.

When she reached her destination, a rather shabby-looking building with a perennially out-of-service elevator, 'Molly' dashed up two flights of stairs to the inside of her own apartment and grabbed the telephone. She dialled a private number she knew by heart, at last feeling some modicum of relief: this line, she knew, was a secure one.

"Phillips," said the voice that picked up on the other end.

"It's...Molly..." the young woman said breathlessly.

Instantly picking up on her distress, the man calling himself 'Phillips' said, "What's wrong?"

"I've got to get out, now. I've been made."

"Where?" came Phillips' calm query.

"At work. It was totally unexpected and totally unavoidable. I can't go back there now, ever. You've got to move me now!"

"Molly, I want you to listen to me. We'll get right on this. Sit tight and don't open the door for anyone, but I think you know the drill. And Molly, you did good letting me know. I'll be in touch very soon when we come up with a game plan."

The connection was broken. 'Molly' stared at the receiver for a few moments, then placed it gently on the cradle. It had taken all of her control not to slam it down. She wanted to scream; hit something; kick something. Everything had been going relatively okay in this city – until tonight. And now, she would have to be on the run again. The irony was, the two people who could probably be the most helpful to her in any situation were the ones responsible for her present dilemma. It made 'Molly' want to cry tears of frustration.