Nancy and her friends are on an epic quest to discover the identity of a treacherous Greek scholar in this fifteenth book of the Nancy Drew Diaries, a fresh approach to the classic mystery series. Nancy, Bess, and George are excited to attend Oracle College’s annual Greek mythology themed gala. But the festive sprit turns troubled when a student falls from the balcony mid-speech. Nancy’s investigations quickly reveal this was a case of collegiate sabotage. Can she find the campus menace before someone else gets hurt? Carolyn Keene is the author of the ever-popular Nancy Drew books. The Professor and the Puzzle CHAPTER ONE The Oncoming Storm IT WAS ONLY THREE O’CLOCK in the afternoon, but the sky over Oracle College looked as dark as midnight. The tiny campus, nestled in the mountains outside River Heights, seemed to huddle more closely under its cover of trees as a driving rain began to fall, causing students and professors alike to race for shelter. Peeking out the window of my parked car, I winced as a finger of lightning flashed across the sky, followed closely by a deafening crack of thunder. “It looks like Zeus himself is planning on attending the gala tonight,” I mused, pulling the hood of my raincoat tight around my face. Next to me in the passenger seat, my friend Bess Marvin was pulling a compact umbrella out of her purse. “If he did, he wouldn’t even be the most famous person there,” she joked. “I still can’t believe we get to attend the annual Greek Gala! Anyone who’s anyone in River Heights is invited. Leave it to you, Nancy, to be friends with the right people and get us on the guest list!” I smiled. “Yeah, Iris and I go way back.” I remembered fondly those days, many years ago, when Iris Pappas and I played together in the backyard of my house, while Dr. Pappas and my dad talked together on the porch. The two men were fraternity brothers from their college days, and so Iris and I became natural friends. Now Giorgio Pappas was the president of Oracle College, and the host of the annual Greek Gala. After a little cajoling, Iris had convinced her father to extend an invitation to me and my friends. “Well, what are we waiting for?” George Fayne, Bess’s cousin and my other best friend, said from the backseat. “Let’s go!” Bess and I glanced glumly out the windshield at the fat drops of rain pouring down in rivulets. “But it’s so . . . ,” Bess began. “Wet,” I finished. George rolled her eyes. “Ugh, come on! A little rain never hurt anybody. To the president’s mansion!” And with that, she slung her duffel bag around across her shoulders, flung open the car door, and leaped into the storm. Bess and I watched her go. “But she didn’t have a raincoat or an umbrella!” Bess exclaimed. I smirked. “Well, like she said, a little rain never hurt anybody.” After a mad dash through the campus, Bess and I came to a wide, cobblestoned pathway that led up to the president’s mansion. Surrounded by manicured hedgerows, blooming pink hydrangeas, and hundred-year-old oak trees whose leaves were just beginning to change into their autumn colors, the gray stone residence was abuzz with activity, as caterers and other household staff carried in everything they needed for the evening’s festivities. We found George standing just under the colonnade, looking like a drowned rat, with her short, dark brown hair and clothes dripping into a growing puddle around her feet. I stifled a laugh as George eyed us sheepishly. “Okay,” she said. “So maybe it was more than just a little rain. . . .” Laughing, I took off my raincoat and tried to shake off some of the water. Bess did the same with her little umbrella. “Nancy! Oh, you made it!” I turned toward the familiar voice to see the Amazonian figure of Iris Pappas striding toward me. She swept me into one of her trademark rib-crushing hugs, and then stood back to give me a once-over. “Look at you! You look fabulous, babe.” “Me?” I scoffed, fingering a sodden lock of red hair that had escaped my hood. “Between the two of us, you’re the glamour girl, not me! I bet you made that dress, didn’t you?” “This old thing?” Iris purred. She did a little twirl, which caused the emerald-green, jewel-studded wrap dress she was wearing to flare out around her. The color beautifully set off Iris’s long chestnut hair and olive complexion. “You like it? It’s part of a new line I’m working on for one of my merchandising classes. Catwalk-worthy fashions for tall, curvy ladies—at a reasonable price, of course.” I chuckled. Iris was pursuing a degree in fashion merchandising from Oracle, a fact that surprised no one. Iris might as well have been born with a sewing needle in her hand. “I don’t like it—I love it!” Bess exclaimed. “Can you make one in my size?” Iris turned to the bubbly, blond, blue-eyed girl and said, “You must be Bess. I’ve heard so much about you. Given your own passion for fashion, I can’t wait to see what costume you’ve got planned for tonight!”