“Which means we’d better get to work,” Ned said. “We have a long way to go.”
• • •
After a stop at the hospital to check on Line—there was no significant change in his condition—Cass left in Line’s car to interview someone for her independent study paper. Ned, armed with directions to the nearest public library and a pocket full of quarters, took the printouts to make copies for Marty.
Nancy, her tote bag packed with a change of clothes for her afternoon as Cass’s stand-in, went in search of the alumni office. If Andrew Bladinsburg had deserved an asterisk from Doc on that awards program, it might pay to know more about him.
Nancy was hoping to get a look at Basson’s alumni directory. To her disappointment, the alumni office was closed for the holidays. A secretary passing by suggested she try the college library. She got directions and headed toward the library.
It looked as if it was one of the oldest buildings on campus. A parade of columns stood like sentries along a patio that wrapped around the building. Oddly enough, the front doors were locked.
“Hey, gorgeous!” A boy near the fountain waved to Nancy. “You have to use the side entrance,” he called.
She waved a thank-you and walked across the front patio. As she passed the column at the corner and rounded the end of the building, she was suddenly yanked backward. She struggled as a strong hand was clamped over her face.
The hand was not empty. Instantly the smell of chloroform invaded Nancy’s mouth and nose. She knew if she didn’t break her attacker’s grasp, she’d be unconscious in seconds!
She elbowed her attacker, but her head had already begun to spin. Slowly her surroundings faded as the chloroform took effect. Darkness descended. Nancy slumped, lifeless, in her captor’s grasp.
Chapter
Twelve
NANCY GROANED, opened her eyes, and closed them again. She was sitting, her back against the column at the corner of the library. Her head spinning, she remained where she was, breathing deeply, trying to remember what had happened.
The last faint odor of the chloroform brought it all back. She’d been attacked—again. But why? The only things she’d been carrying were her tote bag containing Cass’s leotard, tights, and the program from the awards banquet in Philadelphia.
“Oh, no,” Nancy moaned and concentrated on shaking off the effects of the anesthesia. She wondered how long she’d been out. Groggily, she checked her watch. The numbers swam in front of her eyes.
After several minutes she rose. Holding on to the column for support, she waited for her head to clear. When she finally felt better, she started for the side door, still a little unsteady on her feet.
Then she saw a patch of deep purple dangling from the spiky leaves of a bush at the far corner of the library. Cass’s leotard!
Moving carefully, she retrieved it and crammed it into her pocket. She glanced around to the patio on the back. There was the towel Cass had lent her. Of course! Her assailant had opened the tote, tossing its contents in a frantic search for the printouts he—or she—hoped were there. Nothing else would be worth such a stunt in broad daylight.
The thief had left a trail that led into the woods. A few feet farther on, she saw the tights. And down at the very end, tucked between the patio and the shrubbery, Nancy found the tote bag. Her makeup kit, comb, and brush were still in it.
So was the awards program. Nancy leaned against a column in relief. She had tucked the program into a Basson College catalog she had picked up in Cass’s room. Either the thief hadn’t seen it, or he hadn’t realized its significance. Stuffing everything back into the tote, she went to finish her mission for the morning.
The library was quiet as a tomb. Nancy went to the information desk. “Where are the alumni directories?” she asked the receptionist.
The receptionist directed her to the back of the stacks.
The most recent directory had been published two years earlier. Nancy opened it to the Bs. No Andrew Bladinsburg. A check of earlier directories, published every two years, revealed no Bladinsburg, either. Why had this man been left out?
Nancy pulled all the yearbooks from 1970 to 1980. He wasn’t in any of them. Frustrated, she put them back on the shelves. Oh, well. Ned was checking the public library for information. Maybe he’d have more luck.
She decided to check out Doc since she was there. The yearbooks featured sections on the faculty and underclassmen, as well as graduates. Retrieving the one for the previous year, she flipped through it.
She saw several pictures of Line, most taken in classroom settings, a few in the computer lab. Maria Arnold’s wide eyes stared back at Nancy from a couple of them. Then she turned to the faculty section of the Department of Computer Sciences. “Here he is,” Nancy said, under her breath. “Paul R. Evans, Ph.D. Doc.”
Nancy examined the picture with a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and sadness. A boyish face, with skin the color of honey; dark eyes, sparkling with humor, his lips stretched in an amused smile.
Doc had graduated from Basson in 1970 and had returned to teach three years later with his Ph.D. He looked like such a nice—
Nancy heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw the tall, silver-haired man from the hospital. Nancy’s mind whirled as she tried to remember his name. The college registrar. Chaplin? No, Chapin.
“Good morning, Dr. Chapin,” she said.
“Mister,” he said with a smile. “Good morning. Looking into Basson, are you? It’s an excellent university, one of the best in the nation.”
“So I understand. A friend of a friend graduated last year,” Nancy said, feeling that she should provide a cover for her activities. “I was trying to find her picture.”
“What was her name?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t remember. I only met her once, but I’d recognize her face if I saw it.” Casually, she turned the page, then another. Doc’s image was gone. “She was really sold on Basson, I remember that. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to visit.”
“I would recommend it highly, and not just because I’m the registrar. We have a wide choice of academic majors, state-of-the-art equipment, and a faculty composed of the finest minds in the country.” Abruptly he changed the subject. “I hear young Sheffield’s hanging on. I am very relieved, especially since we haven’t been able to reach his father. Are you and he good friends?”
“I’d never met him,” Nancy said. “Still haven’t, to tell the truth. Just happened to be passing the carillon and heard him moan.”
Chapin nodded gravely. “A very lucky young man. And a foolish one, too. But they will try to climb the tower, no matter what we say.” He lifted his right arm and glanced at his watch. “I must go. Nice seeing you again.”
“Thank you.”
“If you have any questions about the school, come by my office. I’m always available for young people interested in my university.”
“Thank you. That’s good to know. Goodbye.” Nancy watched him leave, wondering if he was always so stiff. Perhaps being a registrar was a stressful position.
It was Nancy’s turn to check her watch. Except for a mild headache, she felt almost normal. There was just enough time to find a restroom and splash some water on her face. Then she had to report for work.
• • •
“Work, huh?” Nancy said to herself after she’d been on duty an hour. “This is almost fun.”
That is, after she’d proved to Mr. Pickering that she could handle the equipment. Dressed in a sweatshirt, shorts, and running shoes, he had made the rounds of all the weight machines with her, becoming more cheerful as they moved from one to another. Nancy spotted him, making sure he used his body and the weights properly.
As prearranged, she hurried downstairs to the dining room at her break time to meet Ned. She covered her annoyance when she found him at a corner table with Maria practically draped all over him. The petite brunette girl couldn’t have gotten any closer.
She peele
d herself off him as Nancy approached. “Hi, how’s it going upstairs?” she asked, with a smile that wouldn’t have fooled a baby. She was not happy at the intrusion.
“Fine. It’s fun.”
“Can I get you something?” Ned asked, a plea for understanding in his eyes.
“Something cold would be great—how about an iced tea?”
Ned hurried away, as if eager to please. Nancy almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“I was just telling Ned, it’s such a lucky thing you two showing up just in time to find Line,” Maria said, folding and refolding her napkin. “And when Cass needed a sub.”
“It was lucky, wasn’t it?” Nancy wondered what Maria was up to.
“I mean, after all, you come to tour the university and wind up working here. That is why y’all came, isn’t it?” Propping a small chin on her fist, she tried to look casual. “Are you thinking of applying?”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet. But I do like it.”
“How’d you hear about it?” Maria asked. She went back to napkin folding again.
Nancy told the truth. “Line told Ned, Ned mentioned it to me. Why?”
“I just wondered,” Maria answered, her lids fluttering nervously.
Maria badgered them with probing questions during the entire break. It was clear she had begun to wonder about them. Even when Nancy, trying to find out a little more about Maria, asked a few questions of her own, she had little luck. Maria’s answers were brief and always followed by another attempt to find out about their activities at Basson.
Nancy was curious about this turn of events, but she didn’t have time to pursue it. She had to get back to work.
She was cramming towels down the laundry chute when she saw Maria approaching in shorts and a T-shirt. “The Powers That Be sent me to help, since you’re new and this place has gotten so busy all of a sudden. There’re no students in the lab so I just closed it down until next shift.”
“Great. I could use the help,” Nancy said. That’s funny, she thought. Pickering had not been back. How did he know what was happening up here? “Can you hold the fort a few minutes?” she asked. “I think the laundry chute’s jammed.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Maria volunteered quickly, and Nancy went back for more towels, trying to work out this new development.
She wondered what was going on. Maria knew nothing about the equipment or how to change the weights—although to give her credit, she tried. Had Pickering really sent her? If so, why?
Maria also stuck to Nancy like glue, never letting her out of sight. Whose idea was this? Nancy wondered. Maria’s? Pickering’s? Or the man in the conference room yesterday?
Suddenly the towels began to spill from the laundry chute. Great, Nancy thought. I knew this would happen. It was definitely clogged at the bottom, which she guessed was in the basement. Maria had promised to check the chute a while ago and now it was really backing up.
Nancy wondered if Maria was trying to keep her out of the basement. She looked over and saw that Maria was busy with a boy doing sit-ups. Here’s my chance, Nancy told herself, and slipped out. She found the stairs leading to the basement and hurried down.
The basement was a maze, and though Nancy had a good sense of direction, she lost her way almost immediately. To add to her troubles, most of the doors were unmarked. She took a lucky guess and stumbled into the laundry room, closing the door behind her.
The room had drab, cement block walls with fat pipes snaking across its ceiling and down the walls. Two commercial washers and dryers squatted like one-eyed monsters at the far end.
The problem with the laundry chute was caused by several towels that had caught behind one of the pipes beside the opening. They blocked the fall of the towels into the laundry cart.
She pulled one free, then a second, and tossed them into the cart. But the last towel was stuck fast. Nancy gave it a good hard yank.
Immediately she knew she’d made a big mistake. That third towel had covered a split in the pipe. Now scalding steam came blasting out—right toward her face!
Chapter
Thirteen
NANCY REACTED INSTANTLY, dropping on all fours to duck the burning steam. In one smooth motion she was on her feet again, her back against one of the dryers. The small gray room filled rapidly, the steam boiling and swirling as it bounced against the concrete-block walls.
In seconds Nancy was wrapped in the deadly fog. Perspiration streamed from her forehead, bathing her eyes in a salty, stinging flood. She was blind and finding it harder and harder to breathe. She had to get out!
Dropping to her knees, Nancy felt her way toward the door, hoping she didn’t stray too far in either direction. If she didn’t get out soon, she’d die from the heat.
She bumped into something hard and smooth, the door and not a concrete wall. But her relief was short-lived. Her hands were so wet she couldn’t turn the knob.
Scrubbing them against the smooth fabric of her leotard, almost as wet as her hands, she gripped the knob as hard as she could. It turned. Nancy rushed out and almost ran over Maria.
“Nancy! What happened to you? You’re soaking wet!”
Unable to answer, Nancy slumped against the wall, trying to catch her breath. When she finally could speak, she explained what had happened. Maria was oddly silent.
“You’d better call an engineer,” Nancy said sharply, wiping her eyes. “That pipe’s under a lot of pressure. If it explodes all the way—” As her vision cleared, she saw that Maria had turned ghostly pale, her eyes wide with fear.
“Maria!” Nancy shook her.
Coming to life, Maria took off, running as if her life depended on it.
“Maria!” Nancy ran after her, stunned by the girl’s reaction. Pursuing her through corridor after corridor, she saw where Maria was heading—toward an exit. Nancy pushed herself to the limit, catching Maria as she hit the bar on the door to the outside.
“Wait a minute, will you?” Nancy panted, winded. “What’s wrong with you?”
Maria tried to shake her off but was not strong enough. Nancy watched as the slender girl tried to pull herself together. Finally she managed a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I panicked. You said the pipe would explode, and I didn’t want to be around when it did.”
“The room would have contained it,” Nancy pointed out. “We weren’t in any danger in the hall. I can’t guarantee whether the washers and dryers would survive it, though.”
The reminder of the appliances seemed to spur Maria to action. “I’d better get to a house phone.”
Nancy opened the door, assuming Maria would use one of the wall phones in the corridor. They had passed several.
But Maria shook her head and backed away. “No!” She gave a nervous smile. “Let’s go around to the front. I need some air. Basements make me nervous. I—sort of have a phobia about being underground.”
“Oh. Sorry,” Nancy said. Perhaps that explained why Maria hadn’t come down to unclog the chute to begin with. It was just as well she hadn’t, Nancy thought, or she’d have been severely burned. It was pure luck that those towels . . .
Or was it? Nancy slowed, beginning to wonder about the accident in the laundry room. Had it been rigged? And for whom? She shivered as the winter air cut through her wet leotard. They entered the spacious lobby and started up the steps.
“Oh, there you are.” One of the boys who’d been lifting weights leaned over the railing. “We were getting lonely up here.” He stared at Nancy. “Is it raining?”
Belatedly, Nancy realized how she must look. Her hair was damp, snaking in reddish-blond tendrils over her shoulders. “No. I was in the steamroom earlier and haven’t dried out yet.” She turned to wink at Maria and found that pale, pinched look on her face again.
Nancy went back to the spa, while Maria phoned maintenance. Something else had triggered what she’d seen in the girl’s eyes before Maria had sprinted away. Something more than just being in the basement. Maria had b
een terrified.
After her shift was over and Maria had left, Nancy changed clothes at a leisurely pace, stalling until she was alone. Jim Pickering had come by to make certain she hadn’t been hurt, offering to let her leave early if she wanted to. But she had chosen to stay, waiting for just this moment.
After checking the dining room to satisfy herself of Jim Pickering’s whereabouts, she found the nearest door to the basement and slipped downstairs to the laundry room.
It was clear of steam now, but the walls and floor still glistened with moisture. Remembering the death trap this place might have been, Nancy set about her task quickly. The sooner she got out of there the better.
She took her first clear look at the pipe, which was now shut down. It had not split, as she’d first thought. It had been cut, probably with a saw, a clean cut that sliced through the insulation around the pipe and the pipe itself.
So the towels had been wrapped around it on purpose. No professional engineer would have pulled such a stunt. Someone set this up to get me, Nancy thought. Someone who knew I’d be working in Cass’s place.
And Maria had helped. By stalling, she made sure Nancy would come down and remove the towels herself. They must want me dead or severely burned. No wonder Maria had panicked. It must have shocked her to discover the scheme hadn’t worked.
So now Nancy knew for sure. Maria was part of this conspiracy.
• • •
The sun had already set when Nancy left the Fish Tank. She was to meet Ned and Cass at the dorm in forty-five minutes to go to the hospital. Then, if Marty had had any luck with the copies of the printouts Ned had dropped off, they would meet at his apartment.
There were no lights in Cass’s windows as Nancy approached the dorm. She hoped her roommate was somewhere on campus and wouldn’t be late. The hospital was very strict about visiting hours for patients.
032 High Marks for Malice Page 7
