015 Trial by Fire

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy scooted across to the other side and squinted at the door of the office. Above it was a sign: Fleet’s Courier Service. P. Reston, Proprietor. This was getting better and better!

  Nancy glanced at her watch, wondering if she should wake her father’s secretary to ask if the firm used Fleet’s. No, it was after one. It could wait. It was even more tempting to call Ann. The reporter kept weird hours, and she might still be up.

  Dashing past Gold Star, Nancy darted into the alley. She’d get the Mustang and find a phone.

  Then she heard a sound behind her. Someone else had walked into the alley.

  Reston. Nancy stepped back, pressing against the side of the garage. Reston walked across the mouth of the alley to an old car parked alongside the car wash. He opened the trunk, took something out, and then headed back toward the entrance of Gold Star.

  Hugging the shadows, Nancy slithered along the wall toward the car he’d just left. This was not the Buick he had driven the night before. In fact—

  She tried the door on the driver’s side. It was unlocked. Opening it just long enough for the ceiling light to come on, Nancy checked the interior. This was the car Reston had driven when he had kidnapped her!

  Maybe I should check the trunk, she thought, removing the lock pick from her wallet. In less than fifteen seconds she had it open. Using her penlight was chancy but worth the risk if she found something important.

  As it was, the contents were certainly interesting—several boxes of blank hack licenses, and the kind of dated stickers that were glued on the windshield of taxis after they had passed inspection.

  Wedged in the corner was an unopened box marked Fragile. Nancy’s curiosity got the best of her. She leaned in and played her penlight across the printing on its side: “Nature Under Glass. Fragile. This End Up.” Nancy tried to pull it toward her. It was surprisingly heavy.

  You’re getting sidetracked, Drew, she told herself. Maybe it was a present for his wife or something. The important discoveries were the hack licenses and the inspection stickers.

  Suddenly Nancy heard someone stepping from the sidewalk into the alley. She glanced up and realized with horror that it was Reston. Stooping quickly, she eased the trunk down, hoping she could duck-walk back into the shadows beside the building.

  But at that moment a cab came around the corner and signaled for the turn into the car wash. Midway through that turn, its headlights would sweep over Reston’s car. Even if Nancy were lucky enough for Reston to miss seeing her crouching by his trunk, there was no way the cabbie could miss her. She was trapped.

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  THERE WAS ONLY one thing for Nancy to do. She hadn’t closed the lid of Reston’s trunk because he might have heard it. Easing it up again, she hooked one leg over and folded herself inside, lowering the lid again. A few seconds later she heard Reston climb into the driver’s seat and start the car.

  Nancy held the trunk open slightly so she could watch where Reston drove. He pulled out on McConnell, drove to the end of the block, and turned right. When he approached the next corner, he began to slow. There was a traffic signal at that intersection, and Nancy prayed it had caught him. Reston came to a complete stop—and Nancy didn’t wait to guess why. She raised the lid of the trunk.

  Down the street, a pair of headlights cut a yellow path through the night as a car turned from McConnell and came toward them. The driver might be able to see her, but there was nothing she could do about it. Nancy scrambled out, keeping the trunk lid low, lowered it, and took off for the sidewalk. The light changed, and Reston disappeared around the corner. He hadn’t spotted her!

  Nancy stepped into the shadow of the awning of a shoe-repair shop. The car approaching the intersection slowed. Was it following her? Nancy tensed, then sighed with relief when she saw Ned in the driver’s seat.

  “Boy, am I glad to see you!” she said, hurrying around to the passenger side.

  “Nancy Drew, have you flipped? What were you doing?”

  “Looking to see what was in his trunk. Ned, that was Reston—the man who snatched me out of the Grand that day,” she said, climbing in beside him.

  “One ride with him wasn’t enough?” Ned shook his head with exasperation. Then he reached over and pulled her close. “You drive me crazy sometimes. What did you find that was worth getting trapped for?”

  “Cab inspection stickers, for one. That’s how Gold Star’s been able to keep such rattletraps on the road. They don’t go through inspection at all.”

  “Which means someone in the Department of Licenses and Inspections is being paid off. That’s serious and worth going to a lot of trouble to hide.”

  “Uh-huh,” Nancy said. “There were blank hack licenses in the trunk, too. Honest people have to fill out an application downtown, pay good money, and wait to get one. Brownley’s passing out the things as if they’re business cards. I know, I got one.”

  “Then we’re talking about more than one person being on the receiving end of bribe money. When this gets out, it’s going to rip the city apart!”

  Nancy set her jaw. “That’s just too bad. They’re trying to rip my dad apart, aren’t they?” Then Nancy’s good humor returned. “Say, how’d you get away from the car wash so fast? And weren’t you going to meet me at my car?”

  “Nothing was happening, so I asked the boss if I could leave early. I was going to grab something to eat at the all-night deli before I met you to check out the courier service.”

  “Oh.” Nancy winced. There was no way she could avoid telling him she had taken a short look without him. “I—I sort of strolled past it. Guess what? Reston runs Fleet’s,” she said as they drove toward the deli.

  That bit of news was enough to make Ned forget she was supposed to have waited for him. “You’re kidding!”

  “And couriers swarm all over Judiciary Square every day. There were two or three in and out of Ms. Hanson’s office while I was looking for a bug. I don’t know if any of them are from Fleet’s, but of course I’ll check it out.”

  A sudden thought skittered around in Nancy’s mind, but it disappeared before she could capture it. She couldn’t even imagine what had triggered it. At last she decided she’d better just relax and let the thought come back in its own time.

  Ned stopped at the deli and bought sandwiches for Nancy and himself. They gobbled them down on their way back.

  As they turned onto McConnell, Nancy groaned. “Will you look at that? I thought Fleet’s was open around the clock! Now how can we check it out?”

  Ned pulled up to the curb, and they climbed out, staying hidden behind the car so they could observe what was happening. Fleet’s Courier Service was dark and locked tight as a drum. But Gold Star’s garage appeared to be alive with activity. Nancy and Ned crept closer, using shadows for cover. Reston, Brownley, and a couple of drivers in white jackets with “Fleet’s” stenciled on the backs were busily jockeying taxis around inside, as if making room for something.

  “Well, now we know where the couriers are. Those cabs are new,” Nancy whispered. “Maybe it’s part of the shipment Brownley was talking about.”

  As they watched, a couple of cabs were driven next door to the car wash. As they drove through the bay doors, the lights went out. Anyone passing by would have thought the place was closed. “See?” Ned said.

  “This is crazy,” Nancy said. “Those cabs looked perfectly clean.”

  “Well, I warn you, this will go on for the next forty-five minutes. There’s nothing more we can do tonight. We’ll have to try tomorrow night, okay?”

  Nancy hated to give up. She’d been primed to search for the route to the basement, but what Ned said made sense. They’d be risking discovery if they tried it with all those people around.

  “Okay. Tomorrow night,” she said. “I guess it’s just as well.” Suddenly she was very tired.

  Ned drove her around to her car. They spent a leisurely few minutes saying good night, and then they each drove
home.

  Nancy went in the back door as usual, but didn’t turn on the light in the kitchen. Her goal was bed, so she checked the lock, then walked straight through the darkened kitchen and up the stairs. That was why she didn’t see her father’s note on the refrigerator until the next morning.

  It was the worst news she could have gotten. Carson Drew’s pretrial hearing had been moved up. It was now scheduled for that very afternoon!

  • • •

  “Can they do that, Dad?” Nancy asked, horrified. She’d just come down for breakfast and read the note.

  “I’m surprised that they moved it up,” he admitted. “But it’s not that unusual. I take it you haven’t found anything to use to clear me?”

  “We’ve found out a lot of things, and there aren’t as many holes in the jigsaw puzzle as there were when we started.” She told him about the discovery she had made the night before, thanks to the contents of Reston’s trunk.

  “But the most important piece is missing—how they framed you. I have an idea, but I need to get the proof.”

  Carson got up from the table. “All right. Keep at it, and please don’t worry. Pretrial isn’t the end of the world.”

  “Honest, Dad?” Nancy asked. She felt desolate at having let him down.

  “Honest. Oh, by the way, I brought my associates up to date last night on what you’re doing.”

  “You didn’t tell them about my working at Gold Star, did you?”

  “Yes. If they’re going to defend me, they’re entitled to know how the investigation is going. Will you be in court today?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” Her father managed a tight smile. “I can use the support. Courtroom C at two o’clock. And Leonard runs a tight court. He starts on time. I’m off. See you at two.”

  Nancy hurried up the stairs. She glanced through the notes she had made about the case and tossed them into a large tote bag. If she got lucky and found the answers she needed before two o’clock, she’d be prepared.

  Suddenly the obvious answer to one of her problems hit her. “Of course! Mr. Tyler!” she said out loud.

  She looked up his number and dialed it. “Mr. Tyler, this is Nancy Drew. I’m embarrassed that I didn’t think to ask you this yesterday. Is there another way to get down to the lower level of the garage?”

  “Hmmm. Besides the ramp they closed off?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me think.” There was a long pause. Nancy had to force herself not to tell him to hurry. She closed her eyes and waited.

  “Well, there may be. It’s been a long time, so I’m not sure.”

  “Tell me anyway,” Nancy said, prompting him.

  “When the parking garage first opened, there were attendants who took your car and parked it for you. They used a conveyor elevator to get up and down to the different levels.”

  “A conveyor elevator?”

  “It’s like one long, moving ladder. All it would have is platforms big enough for your feet, and handholds. If you hop on it from one side, it would take you up—”

  “And on the other side, you’d go down,” Nancy interrupted excitedly. “But they don’t use parking attendants anymore. Would the electricity still be on?”

  “I doubt it. But if the conveyor’s still there—if they didn’t dismantle it, I mean—it would be stationary. You might be able to climb down it.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Nancy said. “Mr. Tyler, thank you so much.”

  She hung up immediately and called Ned. The line was busy, so she dialed Bess. “Oh, it’s you,” her friend said. She didn’t sound very happy to hear from Nancy.

  “Listen, Bess,” Nancy said hurriedly. “They’ve moved my dad’s pretrial hearing to today—”

  “What?”

  “Two o’clock this afternoon. Will you let Ann know and get her there on time? He’s going to need a cheering section, and I know she’ll want to be there.”

  “She’s not at home,” Bess said. “I figured you’d know where she was, since you two have gotten so tight.”

  “Huh?” Nancy said.

  “Well, you obviously didn’t want me along last night. I know she’s bright and fun and all, but we’ve known each other—”

  Fear pierced Nancy. “Bess, what do you mean I didn’t want you along last night?”

  “Well, what else could I think? Your message was as plain as day.”

  Nancy gritted her teeth. “What message, Bess?”

  “You didn’t leave a message for Ann last night?”

  “What message, Bess?”

  Sudden panic made her friend’s voice squeaky. “Ann said you’d left a message at the Morning Record that you wanted her to wait for you in the newspaper parking lot at eleven last night. You wanted her to come alone, and you’d pick her up in your cab.”

  Nancy shivered, chilled to the bone. “They’re on to me,” she said. “They know I drive a cab. Somehow I blew my cover.”

  “Oh, no!” Bess said.

  “That’s not the worst. Reston was showing my dispatcher something in the back seat of a cab last night. And he said something about ‘after Granger talks.’ It must have been Ann in the cab!”

  “Nancy, call the police!”

  “I don’t have any proof! I didn’t actually see her. They aren’t going to raid what they think is a reputable business on my say-so.”

  “What can we do?”

  “Meet me at the parking garage, Bennett Street entrance, in half an hour. Reston drove the cab down to the basement. She may still be there.”

  “I’m on my way,” Bess said and hung up.

  Ned’s line was still busy. Desperate, Nancy asked an operator to break in. “This is an emergency!” she cried.

  The operator must have heard the panic in her voice, because she gave her no argument.

  After an interminable wait, the operator came on again. “Sorry. There is no one on the line. It must be out of order. I’ll report it.”

  It’s off the hook, Nancy thought. Well, there was nothing she could do about it. It was time to go. With or without Ned, she would have to get into that basement in broad daylight.

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  NANCY SPENT THE drive to the parking garage trying to figure out how she had slipped up. How could she have blown her cover? Bess was waiting at the Bennett Street entrance when she arrived, so Nancy decided to think about it later.

  “Where’s Ned?” Bess asked.

  “I couldn’t get him. I’m pretty sure his phone is off the hook. Hannah said she’d go and get him for me.”

  “Okay. What are we doing?”

  “First we find a conveyor elevator.”

  “A what?”

  Nancy explained as they trotted toward the enclosure that had served as the attendants’ booth. It seemed logical that the conveyor would be somewhere near it.

  “Here it is!” Nancy said.

  It was behind the booth—no more than an air shaft with a structure inside that was precisely what Mr. Tyler had described. Nancy aimed her penlight into the space below. With luck, she’d be able to climb down. If her luck held, she’d wind up on Gold Star’s side of the basement.

  “Nancy, are you sure about this?” Bess asked. Her normally pink complexion was very pale.

  “I’m sure. I’ve got to find Ann, as well as get proof that Brownley and Reston were behind the frame-up against my dad.” Nancy pulled a long chain from under her sweater. Hanging from it was a whistle.

  “What’s that for?” Bess asked.

  “Help, that’s what. You stay here. If you hear this whistle before Ned gets here, scream your head off. Do whatever you have to to get help. If Ned gets here and you haven’t heard me blow this, send him down.”

  Bess shook her head stubbornly. “I’m going with you. I’m scared, but I want to, so let’s not waste time arguing about it.”

  Nancy hugged her. She knew it would be more sensible to leave Bess as a lookout, but she couldn’t
pass up the chance to have her along for moral support. “Thanks, Bess,” she said. “Well, let’s go.”

  It was a scary climb. The belt kept swaying, and after a certain point, Nancy felt as if she were climbing into a black hole, groping for the next place to put her feet. Above her, Bess peered nervously down into the darkness.

  At the bottom, however, Nancy could see fairly well. On her right was a concrete block wall and a closed door. But on her left, light spilled over a row of boxes stacked six high.

  Nancy helped Bess to the bottom and signaled for her to stand still.

  Bess wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?” she whispered.

  It was the same smell Nancy had caught when Brownley had opened the door upstairs for Reston’s cab. She was in Gold Star territory. And the smell was paint.

  Nancy crossed to the door in the concrete wall and turned the knob. If it was a closet, they might have imprisoned Ann Granger in there.

  But it was a workshop. Two-way radios and other mysterious electronic equipment filled shelves along the back wall. Several large tape decks and a pair of cassette players sat on a worktable. There were also electric drills and polishers.

  In a bookcase just inside the door were hundreds of cassette tapes, neatly shelved and cataloged. A file cabinet was in a corner, and one drawer was hanging open.

  Bess stuck her head in, and her eyes went round with wonder.

  “This must be Fleet’s side of the basement,” Nancy whispered.

  “Why would a courier service need tape-editing equipment? That’s what that is.” Bess pointed to a device on the table.

  Nancy nodded toward the bookcase full of cassettes. “I wonder if any of those have my father’s voice on them.”

  “Why don’t I check this side of the basement?” Bess whispered. “You check the other side.”

  “Okay. It’s a long shot, but my back’s against the wall.”

  “Come get me if you need me.” Bess crossed to the file cabinet and dug in.

  Her nose twitching from the smell of paint, Nancy went back to the other side. A row of stacked boxes was the only thing preventing her from seeing what Gold Star had stored in there.