Nancy and the others instantly obeyed. As she did so, Nancy felt the hot beam of a spotlight on her face. By moving her head back a bit, she could see past the blinding light to watch the short man come forward.
“Which one is Nancy Drew, Mr. Eklund?” Kowalski asked.
Nancy observed the man staring intently at each and every one of them. Finally, lifting his hand in a gesture of dismay, he turned away. “Sorry, Lieutenant. None of these girls is Nancy Drew.”
“Would you like to try again, sir?” the lieutenant suggested.
Shaking his head, Mr. Eklund replied, “This is a waste of time. I didn’t get that good a look at her, anyway. All I remember is that she had reddish blond hair.”
Nancy felt a wave of relief pass over her. Whoever Eklund was, he wasn’t able to identify her. That was one strike in favor of her innocence.
“Thank you.” Lieutenant Kowalski beckoned the woman forward. “Go ahead, Mrs. Hackney.”
The well-dressed woman stared at the girl on the end. Dismissing her, she went on to the next one. After a few moments’ reflection, she studied the disguised policewoman. She lingered there for several moments. Then she looked straight at Nancy. Her mouth tensed in deep thought. Nancy sensed she couldn’t make up her mind.
Suddenly Mrs. Hackney pointed straight at Nancy. “That’s the girl who stole my money! That’s Nancy Drew!”
Chapter
Three
NANCY COULDN’T BELIEVE HER EARS. Here was someone she’d never seen before, accusing her of a crime! Anger began to boil up in her. What was this woman doing? This kind of accusation could ruin her and her detective career forever.
As Nancy opened her mouth to defend herself, the lieutenant spoke up. “Are you sure of that, Mrs. Hackney?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she answered angrily. “We spoke for the better part of an hour at the club.”
Nancy knew the woman was lying. Aside from the fact that she was innocent, Nancy had seen the woman hesitate when she identified her. She decided to keep quiet to see what would happen.
“Ma’am, when I interviewed you earlier, you were wearing glasses,” Lieutenant Kowalski remarked. “Why aren’t you wearing them tonight?”
“I never wear my glasses in public.” Mrs. Hackney seemed annoyed and embarrassed by his mention of her glasses. “Besides, I only need them for reading. I can see perfectly well without them.”
That explains her hesitation just now, Nancy thought. She let Kowalski go on.
He pointed at Nancy. “Then I guess you wouldn’t mind telling me what color Ms. Drew’s eyes are.”
“Certainly not.”
Leaning forward, Mrs. Hackney squinted at Nancy again. Nancy met the woman’s gaze with a challenge. She wasn’t going to let herself be cowed by this woman. Not when her reputation and future were on the line.
“Green!” said Mrs. Hackney triumphantly.
Nancy smiled to herself confidently. The woman couldn’t even tell she had blue eyes. She saw the lieutenant frown. “Thank you, ma’am. That’ll be all.” He signaled the guard at the door. “Officer, see them out.”
As soon as the witnesses and the other two decoys were gone, the policewoman removed her wig. “Forget it, Pete. That was no positive ID.”
“I’m fully aware of that, Officer Murillo.” Lieutenant Kowalski joined them onstage. “Looks as if you’re free to go, Ms. Drew.”
“You’re not going to charge me?” Nancy asked, looking for confirmation of what she already knew—that without positive identification, Kowalski couldn’t charge her with anything.
“Not right now.” He gave Nancy a stern look. “But the investigation is going to continue. I’ll expect you to stay in touch and be available for questioning.”
Nancy nodded. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” she said. “I have every intention of sticking around, especially since there’s someone here in Mapleton committing crimes and blaming me.”
“If that’s what’s going on,” Kowalski challenged. “You may claim to be innocent, but it’s my job to make sure you are.” He glanced at the policewoman. “Linda, please help Ms. Drew collect her things.”
“Yes, sir.”
Linda Murillo led Nancy back to the squad room. The place was filling up with officers assigned to the graveyard shift—midnight to eight A.M. Nancy found the room’s fluorescent lights strangely dim after the blinding spotlights of the auditorium. Two typewriters were being madly hammered at in the background.
Stopping at the lieutenant’s desk, Officer Murillo upended the manila envelope containing Nancy’s belongings. Her personal effects clattered across the desktop.
“Purse, wallet, comb, lipstick, tissues, and compact, right?” The policewoman scribbled notes on an official-looking form. “Check to make sure everything’s there, then sign this and give it to the desk sergeant on your way out.”
Nancy did as requested, tucked her things in her purse, and departed without a goodbye. As she stepped into the dayroom, she spotted Ned, Bess, and George waiting anxiously on a bench.
Her friends jumped to their feet, shouting Nancy’s name, and rushed to the old-fashioned wooden railing that ran in front of the sergeant’s desk. After Nancy handed in her paper and signed out in the shift’s logbook, the sergeant pressed a desktop buzzer. The gate in the railing was unlocked. Pushing it open, Nancy gratefully entered Ned’s embrace.
“I was so worried about you,” Ned murmured, holding her close.
“Who was that guy?” George demanded.
“Why did they arrest you?” Bess asked breathlessly. “Don’t they know who you are?”
Taking a deep breath, Nancy briefly described what had happened. Finishing up, she added, “One thing’s for sure, though. A woman calling herself Nancy Drew did steal some people’s money.”
“What’s going to happen now?” Ned asked, shouldering the glass door open for them.
“Legally speaking, I’m in limbo,” Nancy said, stepping out into the snow-silenced night. “I’ve been arrested, which means the police consider me a suspect, but without a positive identification, they can’t charge me.”
Bess reached out to give Nancy a hug. “Thank goodness for that,” she said.
“If they don’t find the real criminal, isn’t there a chance Lieutenant Kowalski will come back for you?” George asked worriedly.
“I’m sure he will,” Nancy said, remembering what Kowalski had told her. “That’s why I’ve got to find this impostor myself,” she added with determination.
“It can wait until tomorrow, Nancy. It’s after one already.” Ned led her to his car. “Let’s get you home. It’s been quite a night.”
An hour later, after taking Bess and George home, Ned and Nancy pulled into the driveway of her house. Hannah met them on the porch, her face furrowed into a mask of worry.
“Nancy!” she cried thankfully, then rushed to embrace her. “I called your father. All the roads are shut down in Chicago. He can’t be here until the morning.” She hugged Nancy again. “Are you all right?”
“Perfectly okay, Hannah,” said Nancy as she returned the housekeeper’s embrace. With a weary sigh, she glanced at Ned. “Thanks! You’d better get going. Your parents will be wondering what happened to you.”
“Okay, but call me first thing in the morning. Between the two of us, we’re going to find out who’s doing this to you!”
“You bet we are,” Nancy answered, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Try to get some sleep, okay? We’re going to need clear heads for this case!”
• • •
Nancy tried to claw her way out of her nightmare, pulling furiously at the sheet wrapped around her legs. All at once she sat up straight and, blinking sleepily, rubbed her head. It wasn’t a dream, she thought. I really was arrested last night, and now I’ve got to find out who’s setting me up.
A quick glance at the luminous hands of her alarm clock told her it was only six in the morning. That’s a record, she thought: onl
y three hours’ sleep.
Shaking away the remnants of her dream, Nancy watched the first light of dawn creep through her bedroom window. Then her ears caught a sudden sharp sound beneath her window—the brittle snap of a small branch.
Somebody’s out there! Nancy thought.
Fully awake now, Nancy tiptoed to the window, stood off to one side, and eased the white lace curtain back slowly. Sunrise was a bronze glimmer in the east. The Drews’ backyard showed her nothing.
Then she heard more sounds. This time it was the crunch of the top crust of snow being broken. That did it. There was someone out there and Nancy had to find out who. She shed her flannel nightgown in favor of a chamois shirt, jeans, a sweater, and a jacket. Taking care to make as little noise as possible, she tiptoed downstairs. After slipping into a pair of fleece-lined boots, she stood beside the back door and listened carefully.
Someone was walking around out there in the snow all right. Nancy waited until she no longer heard any noise, then she opened the door a crack.
The yard looked deserted. As Nancy slipped outside, wintry air stung her exposed face and her breath emerged in a plume of white vapor. Looking down at the ground, she spotted two sets of footprints in the fresh snow.
Staying close to the house, Nancy followed the tracks to the side of the house. Muffled voices broke the silence. One was a nasal alto, definitely female.
Nancy wondered who it could be. She peeped around the corner.
A man and a woman crouched beside the snow-covered lilac bush, their backs to Nancy. The man wore a peacoat and corduroy slacks. From the rear, the woman looked like a fashion plate in her dark green greatcoat and spike-heeled boots.
Throwing caution aside, Nancy rounded the corner. “Hold it right there, you two!”
They both turned at the same time to face her. “No,” the woman said. “You hold it!”
Before she could hide her surprise, Nancy saw the bright light of a camera’s flash explode right in her face!
Chapter
Four
MOMENTARILY BLINDED, Nancy threw her hands up in front of her face. The high-intensity light flared, and this time Nancy heard the distinctive click of a camera shutter.
“We’ve got her this time, Sam!” Nancy heard the woman shout.
There was no mistaking that voice, Nancy thought. As the spots disappeared from her vision, she spied the familiar heart-shaped face, aquiline nose, coal-black hair, and plum-red lipstick of Brenda Carlton!
The man lowered his camera. “Those’ll be perfect for the story, Ms. Carlton.”
“Nice work, Sam.” Smiling eagerly, Brenda pulled a notebook and pen out of her leather bag. “Run those prints downtown to be developed. My father will need them in time for the afternoon edition.”
Sam ran around the Drews’ house toward the front yard.
Nancy confronted the black-haired girl. Brenda’s father, Frazier Carlton, was the owner of Today’s Times, the biggest selling newspaper in the county. A year ago Brenda had sailed right out of high school into a reporter’s job on the Times staff.
Her pen poised, Brenda smirked. “Are you ready to make a full confession?”
Drawing an angry breath, Nancy ignored the question. “What are you doing skulking around my yard at six in the morning?” she asked instead.
Brenda jabbed her pen in Nancy’s direction. “Don’t try to deny it, Nancy Drew. Last night the Mapleton police charged you with extortion.”
“That’s not what happened!”
“It is so!” Brenda exclaimed. “I checked the police blotter before I came over here. There it was in black and white.” Nancy watched Brenda flip through her notebook. “Nancy Drew was arrested at eleven last night,” she read from her notes.
Nancy struggled to keep her temper in check. “Brenda, if I were you,” Nancy said patiently, “I’d talk to your father and ask him to explain the difference between an arrest and a charge.”
“There’s no difference!” Brenda snapped, but she looked slightly uncertain.
“I’m afraid there is.” Nancy deliberately kept her voice even. “An arrest is when the police hold you. A charge is when they formally accuse you of a crime. The Mapleton police arrested me last night, true, but then they released me. I wasn’t charged with any crime. Check it out with Lieutenant Pete Kowalski, the arresting officer, if you like.”
Uncertainty filled Brenda’s face. Nancy could tell what she was thinking. A false or inaccurate statement could lead to a libel suit against Today’s Times.
“I guess I will have that talk with my dad—just to make sure.”
Watching Brenda take notes, Nancy realized that the reporter might actually be able to tell her something about the case. At this point all Nancy knew was that someone calling herself Nancy Drew had been extorting money from unsuspecting Mapleton citizens. Since Brenda had obviously seen the police blotter, she might have an inside track to help Nancy pick up some valuable clues.
“You certainly got on to this one fast,” Nancy said, adding a touch of awe to her voice. “I only left Mapleton a few hours ago.”
Brenda’s cocky smile grew even wider. “That’s right! I went to work on this case the minute Daddy told me about it.”
“Your father told you?” Nancy prodded.
“Uh-huh! Daddy went to the Founder’s Day party at the Mapleton Country Club last night. He got talking to Elizabeth Hackney—”
Mrs. Hackney, Nancy thought, remembering the dark-haired woman who had accused her of theft.
“Daddy said Mrs. Hackney was in a terrible mood. He asked her what was wrong, and Mrs. Hackney said she had to meet with detectives right after dinner.”
“About extortion?” Nancy probed.
“That’s right. And I must admit, it’s a pretty slick con job.” Brenda got caught up in the story. “Two weeks ago Mrs. Hackney went out one morning to start her car, and something exploded under the hood.”
Nancy frowned. This sounded serious! “A bomb?”
Brenda shook her head. “No, it was one of those heavy-duty firecrackers. The creep had taped it to the engine. When the engine heated up, it set off the blast. Afterward Mrs. Hackney found a note taped to her garage door.” Looking at her notebook, Brenda read aloud, “‘Dear Mrs. Hackney. Enjoy the boom? It could just as easily have been a grenade. We’ll start the bidding at ten thousand. Have the money available in small bills. I’ll be in touch. Don’t even think about going to the police. Or the next time it’ll be real dynamite!’”
Nancy’s eyes widened. This was a really rough extortion scheme. Extortionists often did grab money by intimidating a victim, but an anonymous bomb threat was the worst form of intimidation.
“Did he get in touch again for the payoff?” Nancy asked.
Brenda shook her head. “No, that’s when you came into it.”
“Me?”
“Last Tuesday Mrs. Hackney was at the country club and overheard a young woman talking about extortion. By this time, Mrs. Hackney was a nervous wreck, wondering if the man would contact her again.”
“Why didn’t she go to the police?” Nancy asked. “That kind of note is pretty threatening.”
Brenda shook her head. “Don’t know. I guess she was waiting for real evidence before going to the police. Anyway, she overheard this woman talking to somebody near the vending machines. The young woman said, ‘I’ll nail this extortionist soon. Just leave it to me, Nancy Drew.’”
Pausing for breath, Brenda added, “Well, Mrs. Hackney knew about you, believe it or not. She’d heard that you were a private detective—of sorts. So she waited until you were finished talking, then—”
“Brenda, that wasn’t me,” Nancy interrupted.
“All right then,” Brenda said with a smirk. “When Mrs. Hackney approached the person who claimed to be Nancy Drew, she told her how she’d been threatened by an extortionist. ‘Nancy’ said it had to be the same guy she was trying to catch. She asked Mrs. Hackney to. help her set a trap for hi
m.”
“What sort of trap?” Nancy found her curiosity aroused.
“She convinced Mrs. Hackney that she was working with the police and told her to put that ten thousand into a joint account at the Mapleton Bank and Trust,” Brenda explained. “When the extortionist called again, Mrs. Hackney was supposed to tell him to meet her in front of the bank. Then ‘Nancy’ and the cops would close in. So Mrs. Hackney put her money in the bank and went home and waited.”
Smiling archly, Brenda closed her notebook. “About a week went by, and there was no word from the extortionist or you.” She gave the word a snide emphasis. “So Mrs. Hackney went to the bank to withdraw her money. And do you know what? There was only a hundred dollars left in the account, the bare minimum required to keep it open. The bank president told Mrs. Hackney that ‘Nancy Drew’ had cleaned out that account the day after they’d made the deposit together.”
Nancy recognized the scam as one of the oldest con games around—the split-deposit.
Going over Brenda’s story in her mind, Nancy realized the impostor had set up the whole scene. There were a lot of unanswered questions, though. Who had the red-haired impostor been talking to at the club? An accomplice? A second victim?
Brenda’s grin was tigerish. “I guess the big question now is—did you do it?”
“I can think of a better question, Brenda.” Folding her arms, Nancy absently kicked the snow from her boots. Early-morning sunshine glimmered on the icicles hanging from the eaves of the house. “Who was ‘Nancy’ talking to before Mrs. Hackney approached her?”
Brenda blinked in surprise. She obviously hadn’t considered that little detail.
“Maybe ‘Nancy’ had an accomplice. He or she might have sabotaged Mrs. Hackney’s car,” Nancy said, thinking out loud. “Then again, she could have been setting up another victim. Like Mr. Eklund.”
“Who knows?” Brenda said airily, tucking the notebook in her leather bag. “Three things are for sure, though: one—the scam worked, two—Mrs. Hackney is out ten grand, three—this story is the scoop of the year!”
False Impressions Page 2
