032 High Marks for Malice

by Carolyn Keene

  “I really appreciate that, Dr. Garrison. His dad usually stays at the Loredo in Hong Kong,” Ned said. “Thanks for everything.”

  “See you tomorrow,” Nancy added. The doctor smiled and returned to his patient.

  Cassandra was silent as they returned to the car. When Ned unlocked the passenger side, she dug into the pocket of her coat. “Here’s the extra key to my room,” she said, shoving it at Nancy. “Two-twelve. Let yourself in. I—I’m going to walk back.” Before they could object, she was gone.

  “Should we try to catch her and change her mind?” Ned asked. “It’s awfully dark.”

  “Maybe she needs to be alone. And she probably wouldn’t consider walking unless it was safe.” Nancy closed the door on her side.

  “You’re right,” Ned agreed as he slid behind the wheel. “If anything like this ever happened to you, I’d be—”

  “Don’t say it.” Nancy pulled her collar up around her neck. “Cassandra has had a big shock. She must love Line as much as I love you.”

  “No, I don’t think so. They’re only classmates and coworkers.”

  “Line works?” Nancy asked, surprised. “Where?”

  “In a computer lab on campus.” Ned started the engine. “To Line, that’s not work, that’s fun.” He pulled out and headed for the university.

  As they neared the campus gates, Nancy said, “Ned, I’d rather not beat my hostess to her own room, at least not this first time.”

  “Any ideas, then?” he said.

  “It’s almost seven. What if we take some food back to Line’s? That’ll give Cassandra time to get to the dorm and have a little privacy before I barge in.”

  “You’re a sweetheart,” Ned said softly, smoothing her cheek. “And I’m one lucky guy.”

  • • •

  “I guess a lot of faculty members live here. Every other name begins with Professor or Doctor,” Nancy commented after they passed the mailboxes on their way to the second floor of Line’s apartment building. “Why doesn’t Line live in a dorm?”

  “Too noisy, he said,” Ned explained, pausing on the landing to get a better grip on his duffel bag. “Lots of kids live off-campus. Half the time I wish I did, too. It would be a lot less distracting.”

  When they reached the door of apartment 2J, Nancy said, “Don’t put the bags down. I’ll unlock it.”

  “Thanks. Jacket pocket,” Ned said, and leaned forward so Nancy could get the keys.

  Nancy stuck the key in the top lock, but before she could turn it, the door began to open. “It’s not locked!”

  Ned chuckled. “That’s Line. Brilliant but absentminded.” Shouldering the door wider, he stepped inside. “Boy, it’s dark in here. Wait till I find the light switch. Don’t want you tripping over my—Hey! What—”

  His sentence was interrupted by a thud, followed by the sounds of his bags hitting the floor.

  Out in the hall, Nancy laughed. “Who was it you didn’t want to trip? Are you okay?” Silence. “Ned?”

  Suddenly a black-gloved hand shot around the door. Incredibly strong fingers closed on her upper arm and gave a vicious yank. Nancy found herself being hurtled headfirst into the darkness beyond.

  Chapter

  Three

  THE DOOR SLAMMED CLOSED, and the blackness became impenetrable. Nancy reached for the gloved hand holding her prisoner and managed to grab the end of a sleeve. Her captor shook her off.

  She struck out again, reaching higher this time. Her palm brushed against a head of short, silky hair. Lowering her aim, Nancy caught an ear. Hair of a different texture scraped the heel of her hand. A beard!

  Releasing the ear, she pinched as much facial hair as she could and pulled hard. Her reward was a high-pitched squeal of pain as her attacker jerked away.

  Immediately something soft and thick dropped over Nancy’s head and shoulders. It reeked of mothballs and made breathing difficult. She flailed at whatever it was, trying to snatch it off, but couldn’t find an edge.

  The door opened, then slammed shut. Nancy knew that the mysterious attacker was gone.

  Furious at herself for having let the man get away, she yanked at the suffocating material. It fell to the floor in a heap at her feet. She would have liked to go after her assailant but decided to check on Ned first.

  “Ned? Are you okay?”

  He moaned nearby. “Nancy?” he said groggily.

  “Don’t move. My penlight’s.in my pocket.” She found it and flicked it on. Ned sat up on the floor not three feet away, shaking his head as if to clear it.

  Panning the room with her light, Nancy located the wall switch and stepped past her boyfriend to turn it on. The room seemed to explode with light.

  “Ow!” Ned said, shielding his eyes. He rubbed his chin, which was an angry red. “Something hit me and I hit the floor.”

  “Somebody,” Nancy corrected him, “medium height, wiry, and strong as an ox. He also had a beard.”

  “Are you all right?” Ned struggled to his feet. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Not really. He just threw this over my head.”

  She showed him a king-size blanket, holding it at arm’s length. “The way it smells, it must have come out of a trunk.”

  “It did.” Ned nodded toward a footlocker, its lid raised, the contents strewn in front of it. A second blanket was stretched over one of the windows.

  At the other large window, a curtain rod dangled loosely from one end. “He must have been using the blanket he threw over you to cover that window,” Ned observed. “No wonder it was so dark in here.”

  “But what was he doing?” Nancy asked, looking around at the large studio apartment.

  There were few furnishings; a pair of love seats, two end tables, a stereo system, and a small television. A kitchenette spanned one wall, separated from the larger area by a waist-high counter.

  A two-foot Christmas tree, silver with red ornaments, sat on the counter, the only reminder of the season. Poor Line, Nancy thought. The holiday must have been lonely for him this year.

  Then she saw what they must have interrupted. “Look, Ned,” she said, pointing.

  The wall opposite the kitchenette was Line’s study center. A computer and two printers sat center stage on a typing surface at least eight feet long. The floor around it supplied the answer to what the mysterious intruder had been doing.

  Diskettes by the dozens were strewn all over. Their empty clear plastic containers lay on the floor also. Printouts, unfolded and ripped apart, were heaped on top of this.

  Ned gasped. “Look at this mess! Line would die if—” The color drained from his cheeks as the impact of his words hit home.

  Nancy squeezed his arm reassuringly. “I know what you meant. But what was our attacker looking for?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This was no garden variety burglary. Line’s stereo hasn’t been touched. Neither has his TV or VCR.”

  Ned followed the sweep of her hand. “That’s weird.”

  “It looks as if the only things that were disturbed, except for the footlocker and blankets, were Line’s computer printouts and diskettes. Our intruder was after something specific.”

  “But what? Hey, wait a minute.” Ned began to pace. “Line wrote me something about working as a teaching assistant. One of the teachers died suddenly, he said. They asked him to take over the last weeks of his class.”

  “A junior teaching a class?” Nancy said.

  “A junior who grew up putting computers together while I was building skyscrapers out of wooden blocks. He could have taught this course when he was in eighth grade.”

  “Okay,” Nancy said. “What’s your point?”

  “He’d have to give the class its final exam. Suppose this guy was after the test? He could sell it for a small fortune.”

  “But aren’t finals given here before Christmas? What good would it do to steal a test after it’s been given?”

  Ned made a face. “None, I guess. Maybe it was som
eone who just doesn’t like Line. What better way to get back at him than to destroy the things most important to him?”

  “But this guy didn’t,” Nancy reminded Ned, examining the computer setup more carefully. “The dust covers are still on and all the cables are still connected. Even the printers look okay.”

  “I don’t get it,” Ned said. He picked up a diskette, slipped it into its jacket, and began to gather the others.

  Nancy considered stopping him. They hadn’t called the police yet. Watching him, however, she decided to keep quiet. The intruder had worn gloves, which ruled out fingerprints. Neither of them had gotten a look at him. A minute or two more wouldn’t make any difference to the police.

  Besides, she knew how frustrated Ned was because there was no way for him to help Line. Straightening up the mess there was something he could do for his friend. Nancy couldn’t take that away from him.

  “Give me your coat,” she said, “and I’ll help.”

  She hung up both their coats, then tossed their mangled hamburgers in the trash can.

  That was when she noticed the box of candy under the little silver Christmas tree. “Think Line would mind if I ate some of this?” she asked. “I’m starving.”

  Ned, trying to neaten a tangle of computer printouts, didn’t even look up. “Help yourself. He wouldn’t care.”

  “I’ll just take a couple,” Nancy said, opening the box. “Saltwater taffy’s not my idea of a nourishing dinner.”

  Ned’s head snapped around to her. “Taffy?” He dropped the stack of paper. “Where was it?” He got up and walked over to her.

  “Under the tree. Why?”

  He took the box from her, an odd expression in his eyes. “We used to be nuts about this stuff. I wasn’t supposed to eat it because I wore braces.”

  “Well, you don’t have braces now.”

  “The point is, the day before my dog had to be put to sleep, Line brought me a box of taffy to make me feel better. I slipped him a box when he had his appendix out.”

  “So?”

  Ned leaned against the counter, his face troubled. “The only time we ate the stuff was when something was wrong in a big way. If he left this under the tree where I couldn’t miss it . . .”

  “Maybe he was trying to tell you something?” Nancy finished for him.

  “I—don’t know.” Ned removed the lid. “He probably bought it as a reminder of our kid days. Hey, what’s this?”

  Tucked among the individually wrapped pieces of candy was a strip of paper. Nancy peered over his shoulder. The strip contained one line of printing, which made no sense at all to her. “Does that mean anything to you?” she asked.

  “Looks like a computer command. If it is, it’s in a programming language I’ve never seen before. But why put it in the taffy?”

  Nancy turned him around to face her. “Ned, you don’t think Line fell from the carillon trying to get the statue, do you?”

  “No. Cassandra was right. He’d never pull a stunt like that.”

  “Then what do you think happened?” she asked, not wanting to be the first to say it.

  He wouldn’t look at her. “I don’t know. Let’s finish cleaning up.” After putting the slip of paper in his wallet, he returned to the chaos around the computer.

  Nancy decided to drop the subject for the time being. It was obvious that Ned didn’t want to talk about it right then. She told herself to give him some time to get over the shock of the accident.

  She picked up a textbook from the floor. Something fluttered from its pages—a sheet of notebook paper folded in half. Opening it, she felt a chill.

  “Ned,” she said, handing it to him.

  “ ‘Mind your own business,’ ” Ned read aloud, “ ‘or we’ll mess you up so bad you won’t live to mess with your computer!’ ” He stared at it. Finally he looked at Nancy, his eyes wide.

  “Line was in trouble,” he said, his voice thick. “And I bet that’s why he insisted that you come with me. He was in over his head and needed our help.”

  “I agree,” Nancy said softly.

  “Somebody pushed him from the top of that tower. Somebody tried to kill my buddy, Nan. Who—”

  “Shhh.” Nancy cut Ned off. “Somebody’s out there,” she whispered. Muffled footsteps sounded outside the door. Their attacker must have come back! “Hit the lights,” Nancy said. “When he comes in, we’ll jump him.”

  Just as Ned switched off the lights, the door burst open. A bright light blinded them and before Nancy could react she felt the cold nuzzle of a gun poking into her side.

  Chapter

  Four

  POLICE! HANDS UP! Nobody move and you won’t get hurt.” The policeman turned on the lights and said, “You’re under arrest. Read ’em their rights, Floyd.”

  Nancy stared at him, her eyes round with shock. “Under arrest!”

  “For what?” Ned asked, hands held high as he was patted down.

  “You aren’t telling us this is your apartment, are you?” the first officer asked. “We’re booking you for breaking and entering.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” Nancy said, trying her best to sound honest and sincere and law-abiding. After all, they hadn’t done anything. “My name is Nancy Drew, and this is Ned Nickerson. We’re guests of the guy who lives here.” She explained about Line being in the hospital and Ned being his friend.

  But she saw that the police didn’t believe them. “A doctor named Garrison is on duty in the emergency room,” she said. “We just came from there. He’ll confirm we’re friends of Line’s.”

  “And we didn’t break in,” Ned added. “We have keys.”

  “But the door was unlocked when we arrived,” Nancy said, “and someone was in here.”

  “Whoever it was decked me and knocked me out cold as soon as I walked in,” Ned continued. “Then he threw a blanket over Nancy’s head and ran out.”

  “And you didn’t report it?”

  “It just happened a few minutes ago,” Nancy said. “Once we got the lights on, we saw the mess he’d made, but it didn’t look as if anything had been stolen. See?” She nodded toward the stereo.

  “Sure, nothing had been stolen,” Officer Floyd said. “We got here too soon. What’d you plan to do, pack the stereo in the footlocker? And why’d you have the lights out?”

  “We thought you were the attacker coming back,” Nancy said.

  “Now I’ve heard everything. We’re taking you in. Get the lady’s coat, Jenson. Let’s go. And don’t try anything funny,” Officer Floyd said.

  “Wait a minute,” Ned said. “Please, do something about that door. You broke the lock. Line probably wouldn’t care about someone walking off with his TV and stereo, but his computer is another matter.”

  “We’ll take care of it,” Officer Jenson said. “We called for backup. They’ll secure the door. Let’s go.”

  Nancy gazed at Ned and he shrugged helplessly. She knew exactly how he felt. She was sure they would have things straightened out sooner or later, but how much should they say?

  The only sign they had that Line was in trouble amounted to a box of taffy and a note stuck in a textbook. They couldn’t prove anything. It made more sense to find out if they were right before springing this on the police.

  One thing at a time, Nancy decided. They had to clear themselves first. Turning, she let the policeman lead her out.

  • • •

  They spent two hours answering questions before they were released with apologies. It ended finally with a call to Dr. Garrison, who verified their story.

  By the time they got out, Nancy was ready to eat anything in sight. Outside the station, she lit up when she saw a pizza restaurant. She towed Ned across the street.

  “Now what?” Ned asked, after they had demolished a giant pizza. He and Nancy had avoided talking about Line while they were eating, but the subject had never been far from their minds.

  “There’s a phone,” Nancy said gently, pointing t
o a pay phone by the take-out counter. “Go call the hospital.”

  Ned gave her an anxious smile. “Thanks.” He stood up and strode to the phone.

  • • •

  “Well, he’s not any better,” Ned said, as they headed back to Line’s in a cab. “But he’s not any worse. How do we find out what’s wrong?”

  “Cassandra,” Nancy said. “Since she works with him, she may know something that would help.”

  Ned lapsed into silence. He was quiet until the cab dropped them beside their rental car. Then he said slowly, “I have a feeling it wouldn’t be smart to tell her what we suspect, not right now, anyhow.”

  “Do you think Cassandra’s involved with what’s happened to Line?”

  “No. I just haven’t figured her out yet,” Ned said, unlocking the door of the compact. “She’s certainly not the friendliest person I’ve ever met.”

  “You can say that again,” Nancy agreed, getting in and buckling her seat belt. “Okay. We won’t tell her we agree with her that Line’s fall wasn’t an accident. We’ll just ask general questions and hope something she says will point us in the right direction. Maybe we can talk on our way to the hospital in the morning.”

  “I’d like to talk to her tonight, Nan.”

  Nancy doubted that Cassandra would feel like talking to them, considering how unfriendly she had been before. But she knew they should at least try.

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll see if she’s still up.”

  Becker Hall was brightly lit and welcoming, the enormous Christmas tree in the lounge ablaze with twinkling lights. Using the house phone, Nancy dialed 212. After four rings, she said, “No answer. She must be asleep. Maybe we can have breakfast together, and—”

  A short girl bundled up in a bushy fur coat trotted down the stairs. “Hi,” she said, with a friendly smile. “Are you staying with Denton?”

  “Yes, I am,” Nancy answered.

  “Might as well go on up. I saw her on the elevator a few minutes ago with her laundry. She’s probably down in the basement.” She swept out the door before Nancy could thank her.