The Cheating Heart

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy laid it on Dean Jarvis’s desk next to the paper she had found in Ned’s textbook. All four of them silently studied the two sheets of paper. Both sheets showed the same string of A’s, B’s, C’s, and D’s.

  “There, it is the missing sheet,” Tavakolian exclaimed in triumph.

  The dean was concerned. “I have to say I wasn’t convinced that there had been a theft at all. But now it seems clear that someone really did steal the test answers.”

  Ned swallowed tensely. “But it wasn’t me!”

  Nancy interrupted, trying to sound calm and objective. “It doesn’t make sense, Dean. Why would Ned carry the sheet around with him after the test was over? It seems more likely that the thief—whoever it is—knew that Ned was under suspicion and planted the answer key on him in the bookstore, while he wasn’t paying attention.”

  Dean Jarvis sighed and turned to Ned. “I won’t take action against you until we have more concrete evidence. But frankly, it doesn’t look good. If you did steal and sell the answers, Ned, I’d have to suspend you—or even expel you.”

  Nancy spoke up. “I’ve got six other suspects—Steve Groff, Carrie Yu, Gary Carlsen, Annie Mercer, Linda Corrente, and Tom Mallin.”

  The dean frowned. “Tom Mallin?”

  “Why? Do you know anything about him?” Nancy asked quickly.

  The dean pursed his lips. “I, uh, know who he is. But I know nothing that would incriminate him. The other names aren’t familiar to me. You go ahead with your investigation, Nancy, but I hope you come up with something soon.”

  Ned and Nancy left the dean’s office, worried and subdued. Ned reminded Nancy that he had to go help the Omega Chi brothers prepare for that afternoon’s reception. Knowing that the Theta Pi house would be a madhouse, Nancy picked up a quick lunch at the snack bar before her last suspect interview.

  At twelve-thirty Nancy knocked on Annie Mercer’s door. A cute, bubbly girl with dimples and short ash blond hair opened the door. “Hi, Debbie,” Annie said.

  “Sorry—my name is Nancy, not Debbie,” Nancy reminded her.

  “Whoops!” Annie giggled. “Well, anyway, come in. Our room is a total mess, though—we still haven’t fixed it up. Me and Claire, my roommate. I think it’s so cool being at college, don’t you? Do you have a boyfriend?”

  Nancy was surprised that Annie seemed like such an airhead. Her high school record had shown all A’s and loads of awards and extracurricular activities. Still, Nancy reasoned, she could act like an airhead in order to be popular.

  “Yes, I have a boyfriend,” Nancy answered, then changed the subject. “I just wanted to ask you about the literature test last Wednesday. Did you think it was too easy or too hard?”

  Annie rolled her eyes. “Oh, it was easy. But I love English—it’s my best subject. My boyfriend’s an English major. What’s your major?”

  “Um, psychology,” Nancy fibbed. “Did you happen to see anyone cheating?”

  “On the test?” Annie asked in surprise. “Gee, no. Who would do that?”

  Remembering that Annie was a straight A student, Nancy decided to rule her out as a suspect. She made up a few more questions, then left the girl’s room.

  What next? Nancy wondered in frustration. It was clear that she wouldn’t get any information from her suspects through direct questioning. But maybe I could find some clues in their dorm rooms, she thought. She went downstairs to a phone booth and looked up her suspects’ addresses and copied them into her pocket notebook.

  Annie was still in her room, so Nancy couldn’t begin by searching there. But Steve Groff, the swimmer, lived in Jenkins Hall, which was nearby. Nancy knew Jenkins Hall well. Ned had lived there his freshman year. It was only a short walk.

  Nancy tried to act casual as she climbed the stairs to the fourth floor of Jenkins Hall. Steve Groff’s room was 408. Nancy found the door and gently tried the knob. It had been left unlocked. She knocked, then pushed the door open gingerly. No one was inside.

  The small dorm room, with its white painted cinder-block walls, was a study in contrasts. One side was neat and clean, with a smooth bedspread on the bed and a few books lined up on the bare desk. The other side was a pigsty. The narrow bed was unmade, dirty clothes were thrown on the floor, and empty soda cans lined the windowsill. Nancy stepped closer to the desk on the messy side. Behind a stack of dog-eared books—mostly poetry and philosophy—were two swimming trophies with Steve Groff’s name on them.

  Nancy knew she had to hurry—the unlocked door probably meant that Steve or his roommate had only stepped down the hall for a minute. She pulled open a desk drawer and saw several spiral notebooks, well scribbled in. It’ll take me ages to hunt through all this, Nancy thought.

  Just then she heard a step at the door. “What are you doing?” a voice demanded angrily.

  Nancy whirled around to see Steve Groff in the doorway. He recognized her at once. “You—the English department snoop!” he accused.

  Nancy thought fast. “This is your room?” She pretended surprise. “I was looking for, uh, Brad. Sorry!” And she slipped past him, out the door.

  Steve must have believed it was an honest mistake, because he didn’t follow her. Hurrying down the stairs and out the dorm, Nancy scolded herself for having been so obvious. She had learned something, though. Steve wasn’t just a dumb jock. All those books and notebooks showed that he was truly interested in literature. Maybe his high test score really was legitimate.

  Sitting on a grassy slope across from the dorm, Nancy took out of her pocket the list of addresses she had jotted down. Dean Jarvis had reacted oddly to Tom Mallin’s name, she remembered. Maybe Tom’s room should be searched next.

  Tom wasn’t in a dorm. He lived off campus—1107 Uncas Street. Nancy walked over to the lot where she had parked her blue Mustang. She remembered that Uncas Street was about two blocks away but it was a long street, stretching far away from campus.

  Once in her car, she followed Uncas Street, noting that the addresses at first were much higher than Tom’s. She followed the street for about ten minutes, getting farther and farther from campus. The neighborhood gradually changed to small, old, shabby houses, with peeling paint and hanging shutters.

  Nancy drove slowly to catch the house numbers. She was close to Tom’s house now—1113, 1111, 1109—1107.

  Nancy parked across the street. Tom Mallin’s house was better kept than most—a square brown-brick bungalow with yellow wood trim. Beside the front steps, someone had planted a few chrysanthemums.

  A light was on upstairs and an older-model brown sedan was parked in front. After her last experience, Nancy decided to wait until she was sure the house was empty before making her search.

  As she sat in the car, she wondered why Tom lived here. Few Emerson students lived off campus, and those who did usually were juniors or seniors. Was Tom a “townie”? If so, it didn’t look like the family had enough money to send a son to a private college like Emerson. Then, too, Tom had said that he was on financial aid.

  Just then the door opened, and Nancy sat up in astonishment. Out walked Sophie Maliszewski!

  Holding her breath, Nancy watched Sophie climb into the old brown car, her mind racing.

  Maybe Sophie was Tom’s landlady, Nancy thought. Or vice versa—maybe Sophie rented a room in Tom’s house. Or maybe she had just been visiting Tom for some reason. At any rate, a connection between the two had been established. It had to mean something!

  As Sophie started her car and drove away, Nancy did the same. Sophie turned at the corner onto a main thoroughfare. Nancy followed her, trying to be unobtrusive, but there weren’t many cars around. After a couple of blocks, Nancy saw Sophie look anxiously into her rearview mirror, as though she’d spotted Nancy. Sophie, obviously nervous, began to drive faster.

  Nancy saw that the light at the next intersection was red, but to her surprise, Sophie sped up. She’s going to run the light, Nancy realized.

  Nancy was determined not to lose Sophie, but
she didn’t want to put herself in danger.

  The light turned green just as Sophie hurtled into the intersection, and Nancy sped up to follow in her wake. A large green truck on the cross street had illegally moved into the intersection and had to skid to attempt to stop. Abruptly swerving to miss Sophie’s car, it came screeching straight at Nancy!

  Chapter

  Six

  SLAMMING ON HER BRAKES, Nancy twisted the steering wheel just enough to swing her car out of the path of the truck. With a blast on his horn, the truck driver continued through the crossing, jolted over a curb, and then roared away.

  Nancy pulled over to the curb and sat for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly. As soon as her pounding heart had slowed down, she looked up to see which way Sophie Maliszewski had gone.

  The brown car had stopped on the far side of the intersection. Sophie jumped out and ran over to Nancy’s car, her round face expressing her concern.

  Nancy leaned out of her window. “I’m okay, Mrs. Maliszewski,” she said. “How about you?”

  “That truck came so close!” the woman gasped.

  “Yes, we’re both very lucky,” Nancy said. “But why didn’t you slow down when that light was still red?”

  Mrs. Maliszewski looked ashamed. “I thought you were following me. I was scared.”

  “Well, I was following you,” Nancy admitted. “But I only wanted to ask you some questions.”

  “You asked me questions the other day,” Mrs. Maliszewski said, shifting her feet nervously. “What more do you want to know?”

  “Well, for one thing,” Nancy said, getting out of her car, “I want to know what your connection is to Tom Mallin.”

  The cleaning woman twisted her hands anxiously. “Tom? Is he in trouble? Please, he’s a good boy. He don’t do anything wrong.”

  “He got a very high score on that literature test,” Nancy said, leaning against her car.

  “But that is not wrong!” the woman protested. Her lack of fluency in English clearly frustrated her. “It’s good to win on tests. Me, I not very good reading and writing, but I see him study hard for that test. I so upset the other day to learn Tom must take test over again. So upset. I see him study for it so hard. I see him lose many nights of sleep. He could get sick. Why you causing trouble for my son?”

  “Your son?” Nancy asked. “Tom Mallin is your son?”

  Mrs. Maliszewski sighed. “Tom and I left Poland after his father died. Tom, he go to school in America. The other kids have trouble spelling this Polish name, so Tom makes up a name, Mallin. He even go to court to make it his real name. For me, it’s no matter. But Tom, he’s an American boy. He wants an American name.”

  “I see,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “But Dean Jarvis didn’t tell me—”

  “Dean Jarvis is very good to Tom,” Mrs. Maliszewski said. “He help Tom get a scholarship to Emerson College, since I work at college. He knows Tom don’t want everybody to know who his mother is—the woman with the mops and buckets.” She turned away sadly.

  Nancy’s heart went out to the woman. She felt pretty sure that Sophie wasn’t the thief, but that didn’t clear her son.

  “One more question,” Nancy said. “You have a key to Professor Tavakolian’s office on your key ring. Do you take it home with you at night?”

  Mrs. Maliszewski nodded. So, Nancy thought, Tom might have gotten into the office that way.

  Nancy thanked her for her time and apologized again for following her. Mrs. Maliszewski got back in her car and drove off. Nancy headed back to the campus.

  Approaching the main lawn, she saw that the crafts fair was in full swing. She found a parking space at the far end of the oval and got out of her car.

  Fifty or sixty booths had been set up along the circular paved path. A jazz ensemble played on a small makeshift stage in the center of the lawn. A comic juggler was doing his act on the steps of Ivy Hall, and a pair of mimes in black leotards and white makeup were performing.

  As Nancy stood watching the juggler, she caught sight of Annie Mercer on the far side of the crowd gathered around him. Now would be a good time to search her room, Nancy thought. She left the crowd unobtrusively and quickly made her way to Annie’s dorm.

  Nancy expected Annie’s roommate to be out, too, but just in case, she decided to knock before entering. “Come in!” a voice called out to Nancy’s rapping.

  She pushed open the door to see a girl with dark, curly hair sitting in the corner, where the twin beds were placed in a cozy L. “I’m looking for Annie,” Nancy said.

  “She’s at the crafts fair,” the girl said. “I’m meeting her there in a few minutes—I’m just waiting for a phone call. I’m Claire, her roommate.” The girl smiled.

  “I’m Nancy,” Nancy said, introducing herself. “I can come back some other time. I just wanted to borrow a book.”

  “One of her textbooks?” Claire asked. “I know she went to the bookstore yesterday afternoon and bought a whole bunch.” She gestured toward a stack of books on the desk by the brightly curtained window.

  As Nancy hesitated in the doorway, the phone rang. Claire, who was sitting right next to it, snatched up the receiver eagerly. “Hello, Kevin?” she answered brightly.

  Seeing that Claire was distracted, Nancy stepped over to the desk very casually. She studied the books in the stack, quickly thumbing through each one in search of loose papers.

  A yellow spiral notebook also lay on top of the desk. The cover was written all over with various doodles, names, and phone numbers. Nancy riffled through it but saw only handwritten pages—nothing like a printed answer sheet.

  With her back to Claire, Nancy eased open the top desk drawer an inch or so. Inside were nothing but bottles and jars of cosmetics. Odd, thought Nancy—no pencils or pens.

  Looking up, she glanced at the wall above the desk, where a bulletin board hung between two posters of hunky TV stars. It was covered with a calendar, photos, old ticket stubs, and other souvenirs. As Nancy stared at it, she heard Claire hang up the phone.

  “Is that Annie’s boyfriend?” Nancy asked Claire, fishing for information. She pointed to a picture of a girl and boy posing beside a beat-up white van.

  “No, that’s Annie’s sister and her boyfriend,” Claire answered, coming over to stand beside Nancy. “Rona looks just like Annie, doesn’t she? They’re twins. No, to tell the truth, I haven’t met Annie’s boyfriend yet, even though he is here at Emerson. He’s from her hometown. I wish my boyfriend were at Emerson—I really miss him.”

  “What’s Annie’s boyfriend’s name?” Nancy asked.

  Claire giggled. “I forget. She always talks about him, but I tune it out. Anyway, I have to go meet her now. Can I give her a message?”

  “Oh, no—she may not remember who I am. We only met this morning,” Nancy said.

  “That’s typical Annie. She’s kind of spacy, isn’t she?” Claire smiled.

  “She seems that way,” Nancy agreed. After thanking Claire, Nancy left Annie’s room and took the stairs down one flight to Carrie Yu’s room.

  She knocked several times on the door but there was no response. Glancing up and down the hall to make sure that no one was watching, Nancy took out her lock pick. A few deft thrusts tripped the tumblers inside the knob, and the door opened.

  Carrie’s room had the same square layout as Annie’s, but the effect was totally different. Carrie and her roommate kept their beds on opposite sides of the room. A tall bookcase stood between their two desks, creating separate study areas.

  Carrie and her roommate had chosen a muted color scheme—navy blue bedspreads, a charcoal gray carpet, and a bank of carefully tended houseplants that filled the window. On the walls, they had placed large study charts—the periodic table of elements and a cross section of the human anatomy.

  Nancy could tell right away that searching this room should be a snap. These girls seemed to be the sort who never left anything out of place.

  Nancy did a quick but eff
icient sweep of the room. The books in the bookcase were all science texts. Their notebooks were all new and blank. The desk drawers were neatly organized, with fresh pens, markers, pencils, erasers, and paper clips stored in little plastic trays.

  Nancy then moved to the two built-in dressers next to the pair of closets just inside the doorway. The clothes in the drawers held no surprises—clean blue jeans, plain light-colored T-shirts and sweatshirts.

  She searched the closets next. By checking the address tags on the suitcases on the upper shelves, Nancy could tell which closet was Carrie’s. Otherwise, there was virtually no difference. Neither girl had many clothes hanging up. A few pairs of shoes were lined up on the closet floor. Thinking of her friend Bess Marvin complaining about her crowded closet, Nancy had to smile.

  Then, just as she was about to close the door of Carrie’s closet, something caught Nancy’s eye. She bent down to look closer.

  A tiny yellow scrap poked out from under one of Carrie’s white sneakers. Nancy picked up the shoe. A small square of yellow memo paper was stuck to the rubber sole by its adhesive edge.

  On it, in close, tiny handwriting, was a series of capital letters: B, D, C, A, A, C, B, D, C, D, A, D, B, A, C.

  It looked like the answers to a multiple-choice test!

  Chapter

  Seven

  NANCY WISHED she had a copy of the answer key with her. How could she quickly find out whether these letters corresponded to the test answers without contacting the professor?

  Then she remembered that earlier that day Dean Jarvis had handed back to Ned the sheet of answers found in his textbook. She’d meant to ask him for it after they’d left the dean’s office. I’ll go get it right now, she decided, pocketing the yellow slip. She left Carrie’s room, flicking the door lock back on as she went out.

  Glancing at her watch, Nancy realized that it was almost three-thirty. The Omega Chi Epsilon party started at four! Feeling guilty, she hurried downstairs and jogged back to the Theta Pi house. The bathrooms were full of Theta Pi sisters getting dressed for their open house, but Nancy managed to find an empty shower. She changed in record time, and left a note for Brook, arranging to meet her at six-thirty.