Here is Chapter 23 of my fanfic, Nancy Drew: Secrets Can Chill. Today, Nancy catches the culprit. Hooray!
"Hello, Nancy," Detective Beech said. "I just thought I'd check up on you and see how you're doing with the case."
"No, no, no!" Nancy said, furiously flipping through her copy of Secrets Can Kill. "You can't be the culprit! You're not even in this book!"
"Say what?" Detective Beech asked, jumping into a funky pose.
"Rrrrgh!" Nancy said, throwing her book on the floor. "What, is this a remake of the game? Is that it? They remade the game and changed the criminal?"
"Nancy, you're not making sense," Beech said.
"You're the culprit!" Nancy said, pointing an accusing finger at Beech. "That's why you're so obsessed with Jake's notebook! It's not his notebook at all—it's yours! And when he tried to blackmail you with it, you killed him!"
Detective Beech frowned, then pulled out a gun and pointed it right at Nancy. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this," he said. "If you knew everything, why didn't you go straight to the police?"
"I did!" Nancy said. "Aren't you a policeman?"
"Duh! No!" Beech said in a snotty voice. "I made up the entire story about being undercover, and you fell for it, hook, line and sinker!"
"Then...you're not really my Uncle Steve?" Nancy asked. She felt the urge to cry. "YOU MONSTER! You're going to kill me like you killed Jake!"
"I didn't kill Jake," Beech said. "That was all Mitch Dillon, my former partner. I'm no killer."
"You're pointing a gun at me right now," Nancy said.
"I'm not gonna kill you," Beech said. "I'm going to lock you in a refrigerator, where you'll get very cold! Don't you know secrets can chill?"
Nancy shuddered at his horrible and rather stupid-sounding plan.
"Enough messing around, though," Beech said. "Where's my notebook?"
"It's in the safe, behind the curtain," Nancy said.
Beech stepped away from the doorway and went to the hidden safe. "What's the combination?" he shouted.
"Beech is a dummy!" Nancy said.
"B—e—hey, wait, these letters aren't even in English!" Beech said. "They're in—waaah!"
Aunt Eloise's home security system, made by the Massive Overkill Company, kicked in the instant that Beech entered the wrong password. A small jail cell fell from the ceiling and landed on top of the fake detective.
"Get me outta here!" Beech yelled, shaking the bars and finding himself trapped.
"Not a chance," Nancy said. She picked up his gun, which he had dropped when the cage fell. "Not until the police arrive, Detective."
Detective Beech growled in frustration as Nancy dialed 911.