“I know,” Nancy agreed. “We’ll get out of here in a minute. Let’s just look around quickly. Maybe the police missed something.”
That didn’t seem likely, though. As Nancy shone the flashlight over the site, she saw that it had been swept clean. It looked as if the police had picked up every last speck of dust in their search for evidence.
Nancy stepped back and nearly tripped over something solid. Turning, she saw a brown cardboard box on the floor. “This must be the box Ned tripped over,” she said, shining her flashlight on it.
It had evidently been opened by the police, for the tape that covered its seams was slit and there were little brown and gray shreds of cardboard on the floor around it. The contents, which appeared to be old receipts from a clothing boutique, were untouched.
Disappointed, Nancy turned to George. “There’s nothing here. The police got whatever evidence there was, I guess. Come on, let’s go.”
“All right.” George sounded relieved.
On the way out Nancy climbed up to the duct first. She was just about to push herself through to make the leap down to the ground, when a bright light caught her in the eyes, momentarily blinding her. She froze.
Then the lights slid past Nancy, and she let out the breath she had been holding. She peeked out from the duct, waiting for her vision to clear.
When it did, she wished it hadn’t. Because the first thing she saw was a black and white state police car. It was pulling into the graveled yard—and its headlights were trained directly on Bess!
Chapter
Nine
LOOKING OUT through the duct, Nancy saw Bess standing by the driver’s-side door of the Mustang. Her face looked stark white in the harsh glare from the cruiser’s headlights, and she was obviously terrified. Nancy’s heart sank. Things could be pretty sticky if Bess acted suspicious and the police started searching the area.
“What’s up?” George asked from behind her.
“Shhh!” Nancy whispered. “We’ve got company.”
She watched as two uniformed officers got out of the patrol car and approached Bess. The taller of them said, “This is an off-limits area, miss. I have to ask what you’re doing here.”
“Oh—officers,” Bess began in a quavering voice. Then she put on a big smile. “I’m so glad you came along! Otherwise I might have been stuck here all night.”
All night? What was Bess up to? Nancy wondered.
“You see,” said Bess, “I was on my way home from my friend Sally’s house—she just moved here from River Heights, into the cutest little apartment. I forget the name of the street, but it’s right near here. Anyway, I got onto this weird side road instead of the highway. And then my engine started making these noises, like ping-ping. So I pulled in here, because I was scared something was wrong and the car might blow up.” She paused for a breath and Nancy stifled a giggle.
“Nothing happened, though,” Bess hurried on. “So then I figured I would look under the hood and see if there were any loose screws or anything like that, so I got out of the car and shut the door—only I left the keys inside.” She pointed through the car window, and Nancy saw the officers bend down to peer inside.
“But when I tried to open the door again, it was locked!” Bess concluded with a big sigh. “I swear, I can be so dumb sometimes! Do you think you could help me get my keys out?”
“Ah—certainly, miss,” the taller policeman said.
The shorter officer went back to the patrol car and got a thin metal slat. He slid it down between the window and the insulating strip on Nancy’s car, then struggled to unlatch the lock. A moment later the door was open. After thanking them profusely, Bess climbed in. Then, with a jaunty wave of her hand, she started the engine and drove away. The two officers looked after her, and Nancy saw the shorter one shake his head. Then they, too, drove away.
When Nancy was sure they were gone, she signaled to George that the coast was clear, then crawled the rest of the way out of the duct. George followed. After they were safely on the ground, Nancy told her about Bess’s performance. They were still giggling when Bess came back to pick them up five minutes later.
“Way to go,” George told her cousin. “How did you manage to pull that story off?”
“Well, when I saw the police car, I was totally scared,” Bess told them. “They had already seen me, so I couldn’t move the car. But then I remembered I had Nan’s keys, so I opened the door a crack, tossed the keys in, and then I locked the door. I did it all with my back to them, so they’d think I was struggling to open the door.”
“You were fantastic, Bess!” Nancy exclaimed as they drove away from the warehouse. “You fooled them completely!”
“I know. I felt bad about lying, though,” Bess said with a sigh. “The tall one was kind of cute, you know. He had the sweetest brown eyes.”
“Bess!” Nancy and George shrieked in unison. Then the three of them burst out laughing.
• • •
The phone rang soon after Nancy got up on Monday morning. It was Ned, and his voice vibrated with excitement over the phone.
“Nan, I remembered where I’ve seen that blond girl before—the one who was with Toby Foyle in Conchita’s,” he said. “She works in the accounting department at Mutual Life!”
“You’re kidding!” Nancy exclaimed.
“No. I didn’t make the connection because I’ve only seen her at work, and she looks different from the way she did at the restaurant,” Ned explained. “She wears sensible suits, glasses, and no makeup. I guess she’s one of those people who likes to keep her work life separate from her play life.”
“Could be,” Nancy agreed. Her mind was racing as she thought of the possibilities Ned’s bit of news opened up. “Listen, if she works at Mutual Life, she’d have access to records and stuff like that. It would definitely make sense that she was Foyle’s partner in the insurance scam! I’m going over there now and talk to her. Do you know her name?”
“No, I only know her by sight. But I’ll bet Mr. Packard could help you out,” Ned said.
An hour later Nancy was cruising along Main Street in Mapleton, heading for the Mutual Life offices. As she stopped for a light, her eye was caught by a familiar logo on a building on the north side of the street. “Karsh’s department store,” she said aloud. That was the place where Michelle Ferraro worked.
On impulse, Nancy pulled over to the curb and got out. Perhaps someone Michelle worked with—her supervisor, maybe—knew something about her relationship with Foyle, or about her salary. She walked up to the store window and peered in. It wasn’t open yet, as it wasn’t quite ten o’clock, but Nancy could see people inside, getting the store ready. She made a note to herself to come back later.
She was about to turn away when she suddenly found herself staring into a pair of dark, angry eyes. It was Michelle! Nancy realized with a start. She must have spotted Nancy peering in. The leopard scarf she had been wearing when Nancy questioned her the day before was draped around her neck. She was twirling the ends with her fingers and glaring venomously at Nancy. After a second Michelle tossed her head and sauntered away.
Nancy headed back to her car, a little shaken by the fierce expression she had seen on the girl’s face. Getting in, she drove the two blocks to the Mutual Life offices, where she found a space at the very back of the parking lot behind the annex, in the shade of some trees.
Nancy went into the annex and headed for Joe Packard’s second-floor office. Andy Feinberg, Ned’s office mate, was just going into their office with another guy as she arrived. He gave her a friendly look and a wave, and Nancy smiled back.
Packard was glad to see her, but when she told him why she was there, his smile faded. “Do you really think that Foyle’s murder has something to do with insurance fraud?” he asked, sounding anxious.
“It’s a possibility,” Nancy replied, sitting in a chair near his desk.
“What about Michelle Ferraro?” asked Packard.
�
��She’s still on the list of suspects. I saw her this morning at Karsh’s, and she gave me a really nasty look,” Nancy told him. “But a glare isn’t proof of anything. I still have to check out the fraud idea.”
He nodded. “Yes, I suppose you do,” he agreed. “I hate to think that any of our employees could be stealing from the company, but I guess it’s possible. Now, let’s see.” He pulled out a directory of telephone extensions and studied it.
“The girl works in accounting, eh?” he murmured. “Well, it’s not any of these women, because none of them is young and blond. And the others are men. So it must be this name right here.” He pointed to a spot on the directory. “Libby Cartwright.”
Nancy thanked him and went up a flight to the accounting department on the third floor. A man at the photocopy machine pointed out Libby Cartwright’s cubicle, and Nancy went over.
“Miss Cartwright?” she said.
The girl in the cubicle turned around and Nancy had to work hard to keep a straight face. It was the girl from Conchita’s. But Libby certainly looked different this morning. Her blond hair, now mousse-free, was pulled back into a bun, and she had on no makeup. She wore glasses, a demure high-necked blouse, and a gray suit.
“Yes?” Libby replied, and Nancy recognized her high, slightly breathless voice at once.
“My name’s Nancy Drew. I’m a private investigator,” Nancy told her. “I’d like to talk to you about Toby Foyle.”
Libby’s blue eyes immediately filled with tears. “Oh, poor Toby,” she said sadly. “It’s so tragic, isn’t it? We were just getting to know each other when it happened.”
“Uh—how long had you known Mr. Foyle?” Nancy asked.
“I had only two dates with him,” Libby told her. She pulled out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “But it seemed as if we had known each other forever. I mean, we felt like old friends from the moment we met. I think he had that effect on people. You must know what I mean—you worked with him.”
“Worked with him?” Nancy repeated blankly. “What makes you think that?”
“You mean you didn’t work with him?” Libby looked surprised. “Oh, excuse me, I assumed—Well, he was a private eye, too, you know.”
“I—I see,” Nancy said. This young woman seemed a bit flaky. Could she really believe that Foyle was a detective? “Did he tell you that?”
“Sure,” Libby replied. “That’s how we met, actually. I was at a club last weekend, and I was talking to my friend about how I’ve always had a crush on Jim Brandon—you know, the private eye in the TV show ‘Brandon.’ Anyway, Toby overheard and told me he was a private eye, too.” She gave a forlorn little smile. “I guess the rest is history.”
“I guess it is,” Nancy agreed. Suddenly she felt sorry for Libby. Though she was older than Nancy, there was something innocent, almost childlike, about her. Nancy didn’t think she was capable of lying. Obviously Libby had been blind to the real Toby Foyle.
Still, Nancy thought, she might as well mention the settlement Foyle had received and see if it had any effect on Libby.
“Did you know that Mr. Foyle recently received a hundred thousand dollars from Mutual Life, as a claim settlement for a car accident?” Nancy asked.
Libby’s eyes went round with astonishment. “That was Toby?” she said breathlessly. “I heard about that claim. Everyone was talking about it, because it’s the third settlement in the last six months, and Mutual Life almost never settles. But I had no idea it was Toby who got it!”
Just then Libby’s phone buzzed, and she picked it up. “Yes, Ms. Johnson,” she said into the mouthpiece after a moment. “Which records do you need?”
Nancy glanced at her watch. This was getting her nowhere. She’d be better off trying to check out Michelle’s salary at Karsh’s. She waved goodbye to Libby, who waved back distractedly.
After she left the annex, Nancy went down the block to a pay phone and called Ned. She told him about her interview with Libby, then hung up and headed for her car.
She was about ten feet away when she noticed that the small triangular window on the driver’s side of the Mustang had been smashed. Broken glass littered the asphalt around the blue car. Alarmed, Nancy rushed over and opened the door. Her eyes widened at the sight that greeted her.
The cloth upholstery of the driver’s seat was in tatters. Someone had obviously slashed it to bits with a knife or a razor blade. A piece of paper was taped to the back of the seat.
Her heart pounding, Nancy pulled it off and turned it over. On the other side was a single, neatly typed sentence: “Next time it’ll be your face, Nancy Drew.”
Chapter
Ten
NANCY CAUGHT her breath. The message was dear, and she had a feeling she knew who had sent it. The vicious knife slashes immediately brought one person to mind—Michelle Ferraro.
Michelle had the opportunity, too, Nancy realized. She worked only two blocks away, and she knew Nancy was in the neighborhood. She could have watched where Nancy went, waited until she left her car, and then vandalized it.
Well, if Michelle thinks I’ll back off after this, she’s got another think coming! Nancy thought, fuming. No way would she drop her investigation. Not when Ned’s future was at stake!
Nancy debated for a moment, but finally decided against calling the police. It was already noon, and she had a lot to do that day. Answering their questions would only slow her down. Besides, she didn’t want to have to tell them why she was being threatened. She had a feeling Detective Matsuo wouldn’t take kindly to a teenage private investigator trying to upset his open-and-shut case against Ned.
Reaching inside her purse, Nancy fished around for her spiral notepad. Gingerly, she folded the threatening note and slid it between the sheets in the pad. Later, when she got home, she’d test it for prints.
Nancy leaned against the Mustang and crossed her arms over her chest. I suppose I’d better check my other suspects out, too, she thought. It’s possible that Libby Cartwright was putting on that little-girl act to throw me off the trail. Then she could have slipped out here and done this while I was phoning Ned.
With a last look at the vandalized car, Nancy turned and went back to the Mutual Life offices. The flashing light in the lobby indicated that an elevator was coming. Nancy stood to one side as the doors opened and a crowd of people got off. Suddenly she found herself face-to-face with Wally Biggs. The plump man’s eyes bulged at the sight of her.
“You have a lot of nerve hanging around here,” he snapped at her. Then, his cheeks flushed with satisfaction, he turned on his heel.
“Her boyfriend is the one who killed that fellow in the warehouse the other day,” Nancy heard him saying to his companion. “I always knew that Nickerson character was no good.”
Her heart heavy, Nancy got into the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. So far, the day was turning out to be a nightmare!
Nancy got out on the third floor and was walking toward Libby’s cubicle when she almost bumped into Libby. She had just come out of an office whose nameplate read “Vera Johnson.”
“Hey, I thought you left,” Libby said, falling into step beside Nancy.
“I, uh, think I dropped my favorite pen near your desk,” Nancy improvised.
“Oh. Sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye—Ms. Johnson needed some records, and when Ms. Johnson needs something, she always needs it right away.” Libby grimaced.
“Have you been in Ms. Johnson’s office all this time?” Nancy asked casually.
“Sure have,” Libby said with a sigh.
Looking at the blond girl, Nancy thought again that she was just too innocent to lie. And she had an alibi. So that left only Michelle Ferraro!
“You know, I still can’t believe Toby got so much money out of Mutual Life,” Libby said, breaking into Nancy’s thoughts as they reached her cubicle. “It’s not easy. Why, I had to go to the hospital for appendicitis a few months ago, after I’d been working here for two months and twen
ty-one days. Know what? They wouldn’t pay my bill. Said I hadn’t been with the company long enough. My benefits didn’t take effect until three months after my hiring date.”
“That’s terrible,” Nancy said sympathetically. She bent down and pretended to look around for her pen.
“And then I heard this other story,” Libby rattled on, “about this poor guy who’d worked here all his life. His wife was in the hospital with a long illness, and just because he’d forgotten to file some paperwork, the guy was stuck with all of her hospital expenses after she died. It wiped him out completely!”
“Unbelievable,” Nancy commented distractedly. She straightened up. “Well, my pen isn’t here. I guess I must have lost it somewhere else.”
“Gee, that’s too bad,” said Libby, shaking her head.
“Anyway,” Nancy said, “I’ve got to go now.”
Libby smiled. “Have a nice day.”
Nancy left the building, got into her vandalized car, and headed up the street to Karsh’s. She was tired of wasting time. If she was going to prove that Michelle had killed Foyle, she had to get proof now!
At the store Nancy asked a salesgirl where she could find Michelle Ferraro. She was told that Michelle worked in the accessories department on the ground floor.
Nancy headed over there. She approached a prim-looking woman who was arranging belts on a rack. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Michelle Ferraro.”
The woman gave Nancy an icy stare. “Miss Ferraro is not available,” she said haughtily.
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Nancy swallowed her frustration. Nothing was going right! She managed to give the woman a pleasant smile as she asked, “Do you know when she’s coming back?”
“I couldn’t say,” the woman replied.
Nancy stared at the woman, confused. Why was this saleslady treating her like a criminal? “Well, then, could you tell me when she left?” she asked. At least she might be able to establish whether Michelle had had time to vandalize her car.
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