Lester deposited her at the wide mall corridor.
“Thank you very much!” Nancy managed to say cheerfully as he stalked off. This time he didn’t even bother to answer her.
“Three strikes and you’re out,” she muttered under her breath. Three times she had been kicked out in the mall—twice from Lester’s office, and once from the shoestore. Perhaps she had been there long enough.
She could see Bess and George down the corridor, and Nancy headed toward them. On her way she passed a muscle-bound boy about sixteen years old. He was wearing oversize tennis shoes with no laces, baggy pants, and a studded leather jacket over a torn T-shirt. His head had been shaved, and he had three cross-shaped earrings in his right ear.
“Hey, Dracula!” a pink-haired girl called out as she passed by him. “Where’ve you been?”
“Hey, yourself!” he answered. “How’s it going?”
“Dracula”? The note in Hal’s car had had a picture of a vampire at the bottom. Could this kid possibly be connected with the note?
It was a long shot, but one worth following. Nancy motioned for Bess and George to follow her. Weaving her way through the crowd, she followed Dracula as fast as she could. But just as she was about to catch up with them, someone grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice asked.
She was face-to-face with Amy Tyler.
“Look, you,” Amy said. “I don’t know why you were following him, but in the future, don’t. Just leave him alone—if you know what’s good for you.”
Nancy took a deep breath. “And who appointed you guardian angel of Woodland Mall?” she asked.
“He’s a friend of mine. Friends stick up for friends,” Amy replied.
“Tell us about it,” George said, moving up behind Nancy. Bess was next to her. But Amy didn’t pay any attention to them. She was still glaring, at Nancy.
“I think you’d better know something,” she said. Her voice was almost a growl. “Any friend of Monica Sloane’s is an enemy of mine. So stay out of my way.”
Nancy burst out laughing. Amy sounded exactly like someone from an old, melodramatic movie. “I’ll try to do that,” she said. “Thanks for the warning, Amy.”
Amy tried to answer, but she was so angry she was stuttering. Finally she turned and walked away.
“What was that all about?” asked George.
“That, boys and girls, was the one and only Amy Tyler,” Nancy answered. “Hal Colson’s girlfriend.” She scanned the mall quickly. Dracula was nowhere to be seen. “And she’s just spoiled the best lead I’ve had so far,” she added with a sigh.
“Who’s Monica Sloane?” Bess asked.
“She’s Lance Colson’s ex-girlfriend. She happens to be living in the Colson mansion right now, but I understand she’ll be moving out as soon as she has a place of her own.”
Bess’s face had no expression. “Lance didn’t mention her when I was over there,” she said. “Why is that, do you think?”
“I guess she’s not on his mind that much anymore,” said Nancy.
Bess brightened. “Of course not! A guy who was as open and friendly as Lance was to me today can’t possibly be attached to anyone. Probably he’s forgotten all about her already. I can usually tell about stuff like that.”
“I’d like to meet this open, friendly guy,” George said.
“Actually, you’re about to,” Nancy said. “I was just thinking that we had pretty much exhausted the possibilities here. Let’s go back to the Colson mansion and touch base with Lance.”
“Great idea,” said Bess. “Drive fast.”
• • •
It was almost dinnertime as the three friends walked up the driveway toward the Colson house. Nancy noticed a piece of paper hanging out of the door of Lance’s car. Another note? She opened the door and removed it; it was some kind of brochure.
“What’s that?” asked Bess.
Nancy stared at the paper in the half light. A travel brochure,” she said. “For Saint-Tropez.” She stuffed the brochure into her bag. It was probably nothing, she thought, but the brochure did look brand-new. Why would Lance be thinking about traveling at a time like this?
After Nancy had introduced George to Lance, she briefed him on their afternoon and then asked him about his.
“Well, Monica did some errands—”
“Yes, I ran into her,” Nancy said dryly.
“And I took a walk. I just needed some time to myself to clear my head and try to cope with all this. It’s really starting to get to me.”
“I can understand that,” Nancy said warmly. “But, Lance, don’t you think you should stay by the phone in case the kidnappers try to call?”
“I—I guess I forgot about that,” said Lance.
“Of course!” Bess said, placing a protective hand on his arm. “You’ve been under a terrible strain. It’s such a shame you can’t get away from all this.”
That reminded Nancy. She took the brochure out of her bag and showed it to him. “This was sticking out of your car door,” she said. “I picked it up—I hope you don’t mind.”
Lance shrugged. “Saint-Tropez. I’d forgotten all about it.”
“Who could forget Saint-Tropez?” George asked casually.
“Hal and I were planning to go on a vacation,” Lance said. “I thought it might be a good idea to get away for a while, just the two of us.” He laughed hollowly. “We actually thought we might be able to settle our petty differences if we were on neutral ground.”
“Sounds like a great idea to me,” Bess said. “If anything could do it, I bet that would.”
Nancy wished Bess would slow down. When she had a crush on someone, Bess went deaf, dumb, and blind. She supported her man at every turn. It was like being with a live country-and-western song.
But Bess’s face fell when Lance mentioned Monica. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her about these travel plans,” he said. “She wasn’t going to be included. And now that we aren’t going to take the trip anyway, there’s no point in upsetting her.”
“Didn’t you think she might have missed you?” Nancy asked.
“Well, yes,” Lance said. “But actually, I thought she would be gone by the time we left. I expect her to be moving out any day now. Really.” He glanced quickly at Bess.
The look in Bess’s eyes was one of sheer delight. She moved a little closer to Lance, and her arm brushed against his.
“Have you ever been to Saint-Tropez?” Lance asked her.
Bess flushed. “No, but I’d love to go,” she said with a giggle.
Subtle, Nancy thought to herself. Really subtle.
Lance was smiling. “Actually, Saint-Tropez was Hal’s idea,” he said. “I wanted to go to Monaco. But they’re pretty close . . .”
Nancy couldn’t quite tell why the casual flirtation between Lance and Bess was bothering her. Was it because she was missing Ned? Because she felt lonely—or left out? Because Bess was making a fool of herself? Or because it seemed so strange that Lance would even bother to put the moves on someone when his nephew was in such awful danger?
She tried to shake off her irritation. She knew that people in difficult situations often acted in ways that seemed inappropriate—just to ease the terrible fear they were dealing with. Lance was probably one of those people.
It’s understandable for him to do this, Nancy told herself, watching Lance turn on the charm once again for Bess. She supposed she couldn’t fault either one of them. But she still felt vaguely annoyed.
It was time to get back to reality. “Lance,” she said decisively, “Lester Mathers didn’t help me much. And somehow I don’t think he’ll want to talk to me any further. Is there anything else you can tell me about this case? Anything at all that might produce another lead?”
Lance thought for a minute. “No, nothing.” He frowned, then added, “But I’m still sure that Amy has something to do with Hal’s disappearance. As I said, she’
d do anything for some of his money.”
Nancy leaned forward. “I’m going to do everything I can to link Amy and that other kid, Dracula—if that’s really his name—to Hal, but so far I don’t have anything. It’s true that Amy doesn’t dress like Miss Teen America, but that doesn’t mean she’s guilty of anything.”
Nancy patted the shoulder bag hanging on the arm of her chair. “I have two of the mall’s scanner tapes. I—uh, borrowed them. They might produce something for us, but it’s not likely.
“There is the blood in Hal’s car,” she added. “Bess’s friend identified it as being A negative—”
“I wouldn’t worry about that blood, Lance,” Bess broke in. “You know how it is—when you get even a little cut on your finger, the blood gets all over everything before you can get it stopped.”
But Lance didn’t look as if he needed reassuring. He was smiling again.
“I’ve been worrying about that blood ever since we found the car,” he said. “But, thank you, I’m not worried now. Hal’s blood type isn’t A negative. It’s O positive.”
Chapter
Seven
THAT NIGHT WAS one of the few times Nancy couldn’t wait to get Bess out of her car.
“I still can’t believe how gorgeous he is!” Bess kept saying all through dinner and even after they’d dropped George off. “Don’t you think he likes me too? I mean, I know I’m younger than he is, but not that much. But, of course, this isn’t the time to think about that—not with such a tragedy hanging over his head. Isn’t it touching the way he’s so concerned about Hal? He must really care a lot about people—”
She didn’t even notice that Nancy wasn’t paying attention or saying anything.
When Nancy dropped Bess off—still prattling on about Lance—she breathed a sigh of relief. Now she could start trying to think things through.
The problem was that none of the things she had learned so far fit together. There was the ransom note, the one Hal had found, printed on that expensive paper. Something about that note was bothering Nancy, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Then there was Monica. Good old Monica. She obviously didn’t care a thing about Hal. She blamed him for destroying her relationship with Lance. And from all outward indications, she was glad to have him out of the picture. But did she want Hal out of the way permanently?
There was Amy too. Where did Amy fit into all this? It was certainly strange the way she’d turned up at the mall at the exact time Nancy was there. Had she known Nancy would be there? And had she been the one Nancy had overheard telling someone he would be a rich man soon?
The blood-spattered car—spattered with someone else’s blood. The notebook paper with the vampire sketch at the bottom.
And what about Lester Mathers, the head of security at the mall? He’d seemed perfectly willing to talk to her—until she’d mentioned Lance’s name. Then he had clammed up. Did he know something about Lance, or did he, too, have something to hide?
Nancy shook her head as she pulled into her driveway. All she had were questions—and the longer she thought, the more questions she had. She knew that there was no point in trying to force answers to come. She would just have to wait—and let her subconscious get to work.
Maybe watching the scanner tapes from the mall would help. Nancy went into the house and inserted the Wednesday tape into the video recorder in the den and sat back on the sofa to watch.
Just then Hannah came in. She was already in her bathrobe, ready to relax for the evening. “Nancy,” she said. “I didn’t know where you were all day. Are you okay?”
“Just fine, Hannah. I didn’t mean to make you worry. Sorry. I’m just going to watch this tape and then I’m going to bed early.” She blew Hannah a kiss and turned back to the tape after Hannah had left.
It showed—well, a typical mall. Kids walking around. More kids. A mother yanking her toddler back into his stroller. Not much there.
Nancy’s brain was ticking away as she watched. How did the kid called Dracula fit into the picture—if he did fit. And what about that Saint-Tropez travel brochure? It seemed strange that Lance would plan to take Hal on an expensive vacation when he was supposed to be worried about money. Maybe Hal didn’t know about his uncle’s financial problems. Maybe there was some reason why Lance didn’t want him to know about them!
Nancy watched the entire Wednesday tape without finding anything. She pulled it out and replaced it with Sunday’s tape. “This one had better be good,” she murmured. “I’m tired of striking out.”
The tape started to roll. Nancy sat up with a start when she saw some kids who looked familiar—but then she fell back again. The reason they looked familiar was that she had just seen them on the other tape. Do they live there? she wondered. When do they ever go home?
All of a sudden she yawned. Her eyelids were growing heavy, and she stretched out on the couch with a throw pillow under her head. When she caught herself dozing, though, she forced herself to sit up again. And even though she was sleepy, she was still on the job.
Wait! Nancy literally jumped to her feet. Hal Colson was on the screen! She grabbed the remote control and rewound the tape until she found the place where he’d first come into view.
Her heart was racing. Yes, there he was. A perfect shot. He was even wearing the same clothes as he had been in the ransom picture—a faded denim jacket covered with buttons of rock stars, a black T-shirt, and black jeans. But his outfit couldn’t disguise what was basically a clean-cut preppy face. Bess should meet him, Nancy thought to herself. He’s even better looking than his uncle.
Hal was talking to two tough-looking kids. One of them was tall, thin, and wiry. He had a Mohawk haircut and was wearing a baggy shirt and baggy pleated pants with the legs rolled up to just below his knees.
The other guy was huge. He had two different haircuts—almost shaved on one side, and long and straight on the other. His face was stubbly with a day’s beard, and he had a tattoo on one cheek.
As Nancy studied the tape more closely, she thought she remembered seeing those two boys in the other tape as well. Now they were whispering to Hal, who kept glancing over his shoulder. Was he looking for someone—or making sure they weren’t overheard? It was hard to tell.
Then all three boys slapped hands together, laughed, and walked out of camera range.
Well, Hal certainly hadn’t been in danger at that point. Nancy replayed the tape again and studied the periphery this time. She was hoping to catch a glimpse of Amy or Dracula, but they were nowhere to be seen.
It wasn’t a lot to go on, but it would definitely do for then. At least she knew what some of Hal’s friends looked like—and at least she had a slightly better idea of the time he’d been kidnapped. Nancy finally turned off the recorder and went to bed, deciding she’d return to the mall the next morning to try to find one or both of the boys who’d been talking to Hal. They might have been the last people to see him before he was kidnapped!
In bed Nancy ran everything through her mind one last time. She decided that she would never crack the case unless she could gain the confidence of a few of Hal’s friends. They might be able to give her a clue—even a small one would be welcome right then. The case was going nowhere, and time was running out fast. She fell asleep, but then woke up a few hours later, still thinking about the case.
“I’ll go undercover,” she murmured to herself drowsily. It seemed like a great idea until she was fully awake. Then Nancy realized it wouldn’t work. Amy and Dracula already knew her face.
Suddenly she had another—better—idea. She glanced at the digital clock on her bedside table. It was 2:20 A.M., but she didn’t want to wait.
She picked up the phone and called George. “Mmmm-hello?” George said groggily.
“George. Nancy. I’ve just had a great idea, and you’ll be perfect for it. You’re going to go punk!”
“Nancy? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me! Wake up, George! I saw Hal C
olson on that scanner tape I got from Lester’s office. He was talking to a couple of his friends, and I realized they’d probably be our best lead to Hal. But some of them would recognize me if I went undercover. So, will you do it? You’d be great!”
“Ummmmm—”
“Amy only saw you for a second when she was talking to me in the mall. With the right outfit you’d never be recognized. Come on, George! It’ll be so easy!”
“Okay, Nancy, I’ll do it,” mumbled George. “Just let me get a little more sleep first.”
“Sure. Sorry. Be here at eight in the morning, okay? Oh—and get Bess to fix you up before you come. She’s good at that kind of thing.”
“Eight?” George sounded a little more wideawake now. “Why eight, Nancy? How early do you think those kids get up? Some people like to sleep late.”
“Oh, all right. Nine-thirty, then,” Nancy said. “Thanks, George.”
“Yeah. Tomorrow. Bye.” And George hung up.
• • •
She and Bess were at Nancy’s promptly at nine-thirty the next morning. “You are perfect for this!” Nancy said as George walked into the den.
“Turn around and let her get the full effect,” said Bess. “I really think this is my masterpiece, Nancy.”
George did a pirouette in the center of the floor. The pink stripe Bess had sprayed through her hair provided an excellent camouflage. Combined with dead-white foundation and heavy eyeliner, the hair made George almost unrecognizable. She was wearing a black sleeveless sweatshirt, a black leather miniskirt, black fishnet stockings, black ankle-high boots, and about ten necklaces.
“No one will know who you are,” Nancy said. “I can’t even believe it’s you. Great work, both of you!”
She played them the scanner tape twice. Then she announced, “Now for the plan.”
“George, I want you to go over to the mall to see what you can find out. Do whatever you have to do to get close to some of those kids. But be careful—we don’t know how, or if, they fit into this at all.”
Fatal Ransom Page 4
