Running Scared

by Carolyn Keene

  As they got into the elevator, Bess said, “After that dinner last night, I’m definitely on a diet today. I’ll have poached eggs, not fried, without bacon. And less toast, with no—well, only a little—butter.”

  Nancy was chuckling as the elevator doors opened into the lobby. Her smile disappeared, however, when she saw Brenda Carlton standing there, looking annoyed.

  “Have you seen Gina Giraldi?” Brenda asked as Nancy and Bess got off the elevator.

  “Good morning to you, too, Brenda,” said Nancy. “And no, I haven’t. Why?”

  Brenda frowned. “We were supposed to meet for that interview a half hour ago. Nobody’s seen her, and when I tried calling her room, there was no answer.”

  “Maybe she went somewhere and got delayed,” Bess suggested. “Or maybe she forgot about it.”

  “Forgot about it?” Brenda repeated, glaring at Bess. “Forgot about an interview with a major paper? I don’t think so.”

  Nancy rolled her eyes. Today’s Times was hardly a “major paper.” Trust Brenda to exaggerate her own importance.

  Still, Brenda’s words triggered a slight tingle of concern in Nancy. Gina didn’t seem like the kind of person who would miss out on a chance to get newspaper coverage.

  “Let’s go knock on her door,” Nancy suggested.

  Nancy, Bess, and Brenda took the elevator to the ninth floor and went to Gina’s room, Nancy knocked on the door. There was no answer.

  “Now what?” asked Bess.

  In response Nancy took out her lockpicking kit and began to probe the lock.

  “Hmm. I see you’ve learned a trade from all those criminals you go after,” Brenda remarked snidely.

  Nancy didn’t bother to answer. A moment later there was a click, and Gina’s door opened. The shades were drawn, and the room was in shadow.

  “Hello?” Nancy called. “Gina?”

  There was no answer. Stepping forward, Nancy flipped on the lights. Bess and Brenda were right behind her.

  Nancy froze at the sight before her. Behind her, Brenda and Bess both let out horrified cries.

  Gina lay stretched out on the floor, unconscious, an ugly, dark bruise on her forehead.

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  NANCY FOUGHT BACK the wave of nausea that swept over her. She hurried over to Gina and quickly checked her pulse. It was there but very weak.

  “She’s alive. Call the house doctor and an ambulance,” she said to Bess and Brenda, who stood stiffly by the door.

  Bess nodded and went to the phone. Brenda sat on the bed, looking as if she might faint.

  “Don’t touch anything in here,” Nancy cautioned. Suddenly a chilling thought hit her.

  When she had tried to get into Gina’s room the night before, the security chain had been on. It could only have been fastened from inside the room. For all she knew, the attacker could have been going after Gina at the exact moment that Nancy had been there!

  Nancy pushed away the awful thought as Bess hung up the phone and announced, “The doctor and paramedics are on the way.” Looking at Gina, she added, “I guess I’d better call the police, too.”

  She picked up the phone again and dialed. After a brief conversation, Bess hung up and turned to Nancy. “Sergeant Stokes says they’ll be here in ten minutes and not to touch anything.”

  Before long, Gina’s room was filled with paramedics, the hotel’s doctor, and a crowd of police technicians accompanied by Sergeant Stokes and Detective Zandt.

  “Looks like a serious concussion,” said the hotel doctor. “We won’t know how serious, however, until I run some tests and take X-rays at the hospital.”

  Nancy, Bess, and Brenda looked on as the paramedics carefully laid Gina on a gurney and wheeled her out. Curious onlookers were urged to move away by a guard at the door.

  While Detective Zandt directed the police technicians in dusting for fingerprints and looking for clues, Sergeant Stokes led Nancy, Bess, and Brenda over to a quiet spot near the door. They told him all they remembered about finding Gina.

  “Annette Lang has been the main target until this,” Sergeant Stokes said. “Any idea why someone would go after Gina Giraldi?”

  “Gina planned to give a story to Brenda,” Nancy explained, nodding at the reporter. “She was going to expose some crooked dealings by someone connected with the Heartland Marathon.”

  Stokes scribbled notes and nodded.

  “Brenda bragged to me about her scoop yesterday,” Nancy went on, “in front of a number of people—Renee Clark, Charles Mellor, Irene Neff, Kevin Davis . . . I don’t remember who else. She said specifically that Gina was going to name names.”

  “Is that so?” Stokes said, giving Brenda a sharp look. “Not too smart, ma’am.”

  Brenda glared at Nancy but said nothing.

  The police sergeant tapped his pad with his pen. “Someone is at large who was desperate enough to try to shut Gina Giraldi’s mouth permanently to keep something secret,” he said. “He or she might try the same thing on you and your friends. So watch out. You could be in danger.”

  He looked at Brenda again. “That goes double for you.”

  “What do you mean?” Brenda asked indignantly.

  Nancy answered for the sergeant. “The person who attacked Gina can’t be sure that she didn’t already talk to you. So you might know things you shouldn’t. If I were you, I’d watch my back.”

  “And learn to keep your mouth shut,” Sergeant Stokes added. “Otherwise, you can get people into trouble, including yourself.”

  Brenda nodded, but there was a defiant look in her eyes. She still didn’t seem to recognize the seriousness of her slip.

  “Now,” said Stokes, consulting his notes. “We got preliminary statements yesterday from Irene Neff, Renee Clark, Annette Lang, Charles Mellor, and Kevin Davis. I’m going to need to know their whereabouts for last night, too.”

  It took some doing, but Sergeant Stokes managed to find everyone. Renee Clark and Charles Mellor were at the gym, but Irene and Kevin both had to be tracked down at their offices. Annette was on a run, so the police officer left a message for her at the front desk, asking her to join them when she returned.

  An hour later everyone but Annette and Kevin was assembled in the lobby. George had joined them, too, when she returned to the hotel after her workout.

  Sergeant Stokes decided not to delay questioning any longer. Taking Nancy, Bess, and George aside, he said, “I’d like you to be here, too. See if what they say fits with what you know.”

  As the sergeant led them into the empty press room, Brenda Carlton started in as well.

  “Where are you going?” Stokes asked, barring her way.

  “I thought I’d sit in,” Brenda said with a smile that faded quickly under Stokes’s glare.

  “You thought wrong. This isn’t an open forum for your gossip column. It’s police business.”

  Red-faced, Brenda turned and left the room.

  Stokes stood in front of the three suspects, who sat on the room’s couch. Nancy, Bess, and George stood off to the side.

  “Sometime late last night, Gina Giraldi was attacked by someone. She sustained serious head injuries and is unconscious in the hospital at this very moment.”

  Nancy studied the suspects’ reactions as they heard this news. They all looked shocked.

  “You can’t think any of us had something to do with this?” Renee asked.

  “We’ll be talking to a number of people,” said the sergeant, avoiding a direct answer. “There may be a link between what happened to Gina and some ugly attacks on Annette Lang lately.”

  “That car that almost ran Annette over,” Renee said softly. “I saw that—it was awful!”

  “That and other things,” said the sergeant. He paused as Annette entered the room, still dressed in her sliver-and-black running outfit.

  Nancy noticed that the runner appeared shaken. Her eyes darted every which way, and her hands were clasped together so tightly tha
t her knuckles were white.

  “Please join us, Ms. Lang,” Sergeant Stokes said.

  “Is it true, what I heard about Gina?” Annette asked in a shaky voice, sitting down on an upholstered chair.

  The police officer nodded. “It’s true.”

  “So what do you want with me?” Annette asked.

  “Give me a break!” Irene burst out. “ ‘What do you want with me?’ ” she mimicked. “As if everyone didn’t know you hate Gina. You’re what’s called a suspect, Annette.”

  “I’m a suspect?” Anger replaced the worry in Annette’s face. “If there’s a logical suspect around here, you’re it. If Gina was planning to expose any dirty linen, yours would be at the top of the bag.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Irene demanded, standing up.

  Nancy saw Sergeant Stokes listening quietly. Questioning suspects this way might be unorthodox, but Nancy now realized that the sergeant had probably done it intentionally. Things might be blurted out in anger that wouldn’t be said otherwise.

  “It means that you’re the most likely one to have organized a conspiracy against me,” Annette shot back. She turned to Stokes and explained. “She’s had it in for me ever since I turned down an endorsement contract for TruForm, and she’ll do anything to improve Renee’s chances of winning.”

  “That’s a lie!” Irene took a step forward, but Sergeant Stokes stopped her with a gesture.

  At that moment Kevin walked into the room. He seemed taken aback by the tension and hostility and said nothing as he took a seat across from Annette. ;

  Irene picked up where she had left off. “It’s true, I did talk to Annette about endorsing TruForm, but I’m glad she turned us down. Renee is the runner we want. We don’t need to sabotage you, Annette. Renee will beat you fair and square!”

  “Why are you making these accusations against Irene?” Renee suddenly jumped into the argument and faced Annette. “You have no proof—you’re just doing it to hurt her. I used to admire you, Annette, but now I think you’re just selfish and malicious. I’m going to enjoy beating you tomorrow.”

  Annette smiled. “Talk is cheap, Renee. You’re going to eat those words.”

  “All right, that’ll do,” the sergeant interrupted, raising both hands to stop the flow of accusations. “This is all very interesting, but I have some questions to ask everyone before you can go. I want you all to tell me where you were between nine last night and eight this morning. Let’s start with you, Ms. Neff.”

  “I was in my room, working until one-thirty. Then I went to sleep. I came down for breakfast with Renee and Charles at seven-thirty.”

  Renee had gone to sleep early. She was up at six-thirty, did some light exercise in her room, and met Irene and her trainer in the lobby at seven-thirty. Kevin had gone home after having dinner with George and her friends, and Mellor and Annette stated that they had been in their rooms the whole night. No one had any witnesses.

  Sergeant Stokes sighed. “This certainly hasn’t gotten us anywhere. I’m giving you all my phone number. If any of you wants to tell me something in confidence, just call. For the moment that’ll be all. Ms. Drew, stick around a second.”

  “We’ll wait outside,” Bess whispered as she and George filed out with the others. When the press room was empty, Sergeant Stokes turned to Nancy.

  “I called the River Heights police and spoke to the chief there—McGinnis, I think it was,” Stokes said. “He tells me you’re not just a meddling busybody, that I can trust you. So I will. Do you have anything to add about what’s going on here?”

  “Nothing,” Nancy answered. “Are you doing background checks on the suspects?”

  The sergeant nodded. “They’re in progress. I should have results today. I’ll keep you informed, and I assume you’ll do the same.”

  “You can count on it,” Nancy assured him.

  As soon as she rejoined her friends outside the press room, Bess grabbed her arm. “There’s something we have to do right away,” she said.

  “What?” Nancy asked.

  “We need to have breakfast—before I starve to death!”

  • • •

  “How was your run, George?” Bess asked that afternoon when George returned.

  “Short but great,” George replied. Nancy and Bess were sitting on the terrace, and George had gone out to join them. “I just wanted to run enough to keep limber, and I met up with a group of runners like me who’re doing their first marathon. We’re getting together later for a big carbo-loading dinner. Any news on Gina?”

  Nancy shook her head. She had called the Good Samaritan Hospital, where Gina had been taken, a few times. All they could tell her was that Gina was still unconscious.

  The phone rang just then, and Nancy went into the room to get it. “Are you busy?” Annette asked. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  “Sure,” Nancy said. “Is something wrong?”

  There was a slight pause. “Could you come downstairs and meet me in the lobby?”

  Nancy agreed, but she was frowning as she hung up the phone. “Annette wants to talk to me downstairs,” she told Bess and George. “She wouldn’t say what it’s about, but I have a feeling it’s not good news.”

  “Maybe Bess and I should come, in case there’s some kind of trouble,” George suggested.

  “Definitely,” Bess agreed.

  In the lobby Annette greeted them with a nervous smile. “Let’s go outside, where we won’t be overheard.”

  Nancy looked around. The lobby wasn’t very crowded, and nobody was paying them any particular attention. But Annette appeared to be on edge, so Nancy decided to humor her. The runner was under a lot of strain, after all.

  “Is something wrong?” Nancy asked as Annette led her, Bess, and George out of the Woodville and down the hotel’s curved drive.

  Annette nodded and said, “It’s about what’s been happening the last few days.”

  “What?” Nancy asked. Her concern grew as she noticed Annette’s pale face and red-rimmed eyes.

  Suddenly a squeal of tires made Nancy spin around.

  A beat-up car had swung its nose toward the sidewalk just behind them. Nancy realized with a start that it was the same car that had tried to run down Annette in the park!

  The passenger door flew open, and a man clothed entirely in black jumped out. His face was covered by a ski mask.

  Before Nancy, her friends, or passersby on the busy street could react, the man sprinted up behind Annette and grabbed her around the throat with his left arm. With his right he twisted her arm sharply behind her back and dragged her toward the waiting car!

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  ANNETTE LET OUT a scream of terror that spurred Nancy into action.

  She leapt forward as the struggling pair neared the car and kicked sharply at the side of the attacker’s knee. There was a muffled cry of pain from behind the ski mask, and the man dropped Annette’s arm to clutch his leg.

  Nancy lunged for the mask, but the assailant jumped back out of her reach. As he did so, Annette was pulled off-balance, and she fell to the ground, out of the assailant’s grasp.

  The masked person dived headfirst into the front seat and slammed the car door shut. Several passersby were spurred into action and headed toward the car. Before they or Nancy could get to it, the car took off down the drive and swung out into the busy downtown traffic. Even through the tinted glass, Nancy could see that the assailant was at the wheel. Then the car was gone, leaving an angry blare of horns behind it.

  “That’s the same car that the person who shot at us was driving,” Nancy said.

  “And that was definitely a man,” George said.

  “Yes, it was,” Nancy said.

  A few feet away several people were helping Annette to her feet. “How are you?” Nancy asked, going over to the runner. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine, thanks to you,” Annette replied. “I owe you again, Nancy.”


  “No problem,” Nancy told her with a smile. “All part of the service.”

  The crowd that had formed dispersed. Suddenly Nancy noticed that Brenda Carlton was standing outside the hotel’s entrance. An expensive-looking camera was hanging from the reporter’s neck, and she was talking into a portable tape recorder in her hand.

  “Boy, Brenda doesn’t lose any time getting a story—” Nancy muttered. Then she broke off as another thought occurred to her.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” she told Annette. “I’ll be right back.”

  Nancy hurried over to Brenda and asked, “Did you see what just happened?”

  “Naturally,” Brenda said, giving Nancy a satisfied smile. “And I got great pictures, too. My editor is going to love this.”

  Something about the reporter’s timely appearance seemed very fishy to Nancy. “Why were you out here, Brenda?” she asked.

  Brenda attempted a casual shrug, but it didn’t look convincing. “I just happened to be outside.”

  “Just happened?” Nancy repeated, crossing her arms over her chest. “Come on, Brenda, try again.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brenda said indignantly.

  “You never carry a camera—you’re not a photographer. Come on, Brenda, let’s have it.”

  Glaring at Nancy, Brenda said, “Well, so what if someone called me? I don’t see what difference that makes.”

  Nancy resisted the urge to shake the reporter. “Tell me all about it.”

  “There’s not much to tell,” Brenda said airily. “I was in my room, and the phone rang and someone said that if I wanted a good item, I should be in front of the hotel with a camera in five minutes.”

  So someone had warned Brenda. But who? The attacker seemed like the logical person—no one else would know what was going to happen. But why would the person want to get publicity and risk being identified? It didn’t make sense.

  “The caller didn’t give a name?” Nancy asked.

  “Of course not,” Brenda answered. “Reporters get anonymous tips like that all the time.”

  Ignoring Brenda’s snooty attitude, Nancy asked, “You couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman?”