004 Smile and Say Murder (6 page)

How could Sondra make a play for Ned? Nancy wondered indignantly. Then she remembered Sondra had absolutely no way of knowing she was going after Nancy’s boyfriend. But
Ned
should know better!

Still, Nancy had to give Ned the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just trying to get information and pick up clues from Sondra. But there was no reason for him to stand so close to her in order, to do it. No way was she going to stand around and watch her boyfriend flirt with another girl!

Nancy took two steps forward. And at that moment, two piercing screams cut through the morning calm.

T
HAT WAS
Y
VONNE
!” Nancy cried. She made a dash for the publisher’s office, Ned and Sondra momentarily forgotten. What could have happened?

Nancy threw open the door. Yvonne was standing by her desk, staring horrified into one of its drawers.

“Yvonne!” Nancy exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“I—I thought it was just a toy until it moved,” Yvonne gasped.

Nancy glanced around. Most of the
Flash
staff had followed her into Yvonne’s office. Ned and Sondra were right behind her. Mick looked on uncertainly and David’s steel-gray eyes surveyed the commotion impassively.

Nancy crossed the room and peered into
Yvonne’s desk. At first she didn’t see what had scared the publisher. Then something started to crawl. It was a huge, hairy black spider with pinkish legs—a tarantula!

“Where did this come from?” Nancy asked softly, leaning closer to examine the spider.

“I d-don’t know,” Yvonne sputtered. “I just opened the drawer and there it was!”

Nancy picked up an empty coffee mug and laid it in the desk drawer, its rim facing the spider. She prodded the creature with the end of a pencil until it began crawling into the cup. “We’d better save this for evidence.”

But Yvonne pushed by, a paperweight in her hand. “No way am I going to leave that thing hanging around here!” She brought the weight down on the spider.

Nancy stared for a second. But by that time Sondra had already begun yelling at her brother. Of course, Nancy thought with a little mental shrug. This is
Flash.
Why did I expect to get through the morning without at least one major fight?

“Mick, how
could
you?” Sondra was crying. “Yvonne might have been bitten! You are taking these practical jokes way too far. They’re not funny anymore!”

A look of confusion, fear, and hurt crossed Mick’s face. “Wait a minute, Sondra. Are you saying
I’m
responsible for this? You think I’m crazy or something?”

“Well, who else could it be? No one else around here pulls creepy jokes.”

“I’d never get
near
that miserable spider.” Mick shuddered. “The rubber ones you brought in for Danielle Artman were bad enough. Besides, I’m not into dangerous jokes. You know that!”

Nancy watched the exchange closely. Mick really did seem shocked that his sister would assume he was responsible. Then again, maybe he was just a very good actor.

Suddenly Nancy remembered that David had just come back from South America. Isn’t it interesting, Nancy thought. That’s one of the areas where you can find tarantulas. With his connection to MediaCorp, the editor in chief was beginning to look more than a little suspicious.

In ones and twos, the others left the office. Nancy was by no means too wrapped up in the case to miss Ned and Sondra walking out together, but right then there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Last to leave were Mick, still clearly upset by his sister’s accusation, and David, who gave Yvonne a kiss on the cheek first.

“How are you feeling?” Nancy asked Yvonne as soon as everyone had cleared out of the office.

“A little shaken,” the publisher replied, dropping heavily into her chair. “But okay, I guess.”

“This is something I think the police should know about immediately,” Nancy said, taking a
seat on the leather couch. “I don’t have a single concrete clue, so I have no way of judging the situation, but I do know one thing—this case has gone far beyond practical jokes.”

Yvonne caught her breath sharply. “No,” she said with a fierceness that surprised Nancy. “The reason I hired you was to keep the police out of this. I told you, I’m worried about Mick. I want to keep him out of any serious trouble.”

“It looks as if you’re getting yourself into some, though,” said Nancy.

“But, Nancy, maybe Mick just wanted to scare me.”

Nancy sighed. Yvonne was so sure Mick was behind the things that had happened at
Flash.
But until that was proven, Nancy was going to keep her eyes open for any and all possible suspects.

“Whoever planted that spider may or may not have known that it wouldn’t kill you,” Nancy replied. “Most people think tarantulas are deadly, like black widow spiders, but they’re not. In fact, a lot of people keep tarantulas as exotic pets without any problems. This one probably came from a pet store. But the thing is, we still don’t know if the person we’re looking for is just trying to scare you or if we’re up against a murder attempt. That’s exactly why I think we should call in the police. We don’t have enough information.”

“My point exactly. The police aren’t
interested in suspicions and possibilities. They want facts, crime victims, switchblade knives. They’ll come in here, look around, and do nothing at all. Meanwhile, Mick and
Flash
will have to bear the media coverage that would follow.”

Nancy sighed. Yvonne was right. Still, she was a detective, not a bodyguard. She didn’t want to feel responsible if another murder attempt occurred and Yvonne got hurt.

Suddenly Yvonne’s face softened. “Please,” she said, almost pleading, “I want you to handle this yourself. For me, for Mick, and for
Flash.
The next time Mick does something dangerous, we’ll call the police, okay?”

“If you’re still alive,” Nancy replied wryly.

Yvonne broke into a smile. “Great. I knew you’d understand, Nancy. Now I’m going home for a while. I need to cool out after all this.”

“Okay,” Nancy said, getting to her feet. “Do you mind if I have a look around your office? Maybe the culprit left a clue.”

“Go right ahead.” Yvonne stood up and got her coat from the closet. “I’ll lock the door. Then just close it behind you when you leave.” Yvonne slipped into her coat, gathered together a few papers, pushed them into her briefcase and, saying goodbye to Nancy, hurried out.

Nancy got right to work, checking Yvonne’s desk drawers first. When she found nothing,
she searched the closet and Yvonne’s private bathroom. She even looked beneath the cushions of the couch. It was only when she got down on her hands and knees on the floor, peering into every corner, that she found something. One of the large white buttons from Mick’s suit was lying underneath the desk.

Nancy picked it up. Then, brushing off her pants, she stood up.

It was a small clue. It didn’t prove anything. Mick was in and out of Yvonne’s office a few times a day. He may not have lost the button while planting the spider, but it was a possibility.

Nancy decided she needed more definite clues, clues she just might find in Mick’s office. She knocked on his door. “It’s Nancy,” she called.

“Come on in,” Mick called back.

Nancy opened the door. “Hi,” she said.

“Strange happenings at
Flash,
huh?” Mick said. “I bet you never had a job like this before, did you?” He was joking, but there was a nervous edge to his voice.

“No,” Nancy said honestly, “I never have.” Now that she was in his office, she had no idea how to get Mick out in order to search it. Well, she told herself, I’ll just have to wing it.

“So what can I do for you?” Mick asked.

“Um,” Nancy stalled, “I wanted to—to
ask you if there was anything I can do for you since Yvonne has gone home.”

“No,” Mick said, “just go help Leslie with those layouts.”

“Okay,” Nancy answered. She turned to leave. All at once she slipped on the shiny wood floor and fell flat on her rear. “Ow!” she cried.

“Nancy!” exclaimed Mick. “Here, let me help you. Are you hurt?”

“I think I twisted my ankle,” Nancy replied. She allowed Mick to help her limp to the orange armchair. “I don’t think it’s too bad, but do you think you could get me some ice to put on it? A dancer friend of mine swears it’s the best thing for this kind of injury.”

“Sure,” Mick said, concerned. “There’s some in the refrigerator. It’s just down the hall. I’ll be right back.” He dashed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as he had gone, Nancy jumped out of the chair. Mick would be gone for just a few minutes. She’d probably only have time to search his desk.

Nancy looked carefully through a few drawers. Nothing. But then she noticed something on top of the desk that was very interesting indeed.

It was a paperback mystery called
Deadly Potion, Deadly Bite
by an author named Ivan Green. Nancy had read it herself, and the story stuck in her mind because of the bizarre way the murderer had killed his victims. He’d used
poisons—all different types, including poison from insects!

Wow, Nancy thought. Yvonne finds a tarantula in her desk while Mick’s reading a fictional account of the same kind of crime. Was it just a coincidence?

She heard a noise in the hall and glanced at the door. There was Mick’s jacket, hanging from a hook. Nancy grabbed the lapel to check the front of the jacket. A button
was
missing!

Dashing back to the armchair, she dropped into it just as Mick returned.

“I brought you a whole bag full of ice,” Mick announced.

“Thanks,” Nancy said. She spent a few minutes holding the ice to her perfectly normal ankle, her mind speeding from clue to clue all the while. Once again, things were looking bad for Mick. But what about David? Nancy knew she would have to search his office, too, before she completely condemned Mick. She’d need Ned’s help for that.

Nancy lost precious time getting Mick to believe she was all right, but at last she made her getaway. She found Ned alone in the photocopy room, duplicating some articles. “Glad to see you’ve separated yourself from Sondra Swanson long enough to get a little work done,” she said sarcastically.

“Nancy—” Ned cried.

But Nancy wouldn’t let Ned get another word
out of his mouth. “I need your help. Do you think you can keep David Bowers busy for fifteen minutes or so? I’ve got to search his office.”

“Piece of cake,” Ned said, pulling his copies out of the machine. “But listen. Sondra—”

“Forget it,” Nancy said. “We don’t have time to talk now. See you in a bit.” And with that, she hurried out of the room.

Nancy gave Ned five minutes to get David out of his office. Then she snuck in herself. If David catches me here, she thought, I’m dead. She went straight to his desk. The top drawer held pencils, pens, typing paper, and other standard office supplies.

In the second drawer Nancy found a few old greeting cards and a couple of low-quality novels. Obviously, the big-shot editor didn’t want anyone to know he liked to read junk, since he hadn’t put the books on his shelf next to the leatherbound classics. Nancy couldn’t help but giggle to herself about that.

But it was in the bottom drawer that Nancy found something really interesting. It was a note from a top officer at MediaCorp! “Here’s the check for that last free-lance job,” it said. “Let me know how the new job is going.”

Nancy pawed through the papers in the drawer, but she couldn’t find the check. David had probably already cashed it. Anyway, she didn’t really need it. She had the most important information. She knew that David was still
working for MediaCorp! But as a free-lance editor—or as a hired assassin? Nancy’s mind reeled with new possibilities.

Nancy knew MediaCorp wanted
Flash.
But how badly? Could they really be as unscrupulous as Nancy was beginning to suspect? How far would a major corporation go to acquire a magazine they wanted? . . . As far as murder?