Fatal Ransom (6 page)

“There
is
the blood in Hal's car,” she added. “Bess's friend identified it as being A negative—”

“I wouldn't worry about that blood, Lance,” Bess broke in. “You know how it is—when you get even a little cut on your finger, the blood gets all over everything before you can get it stopped.”

But Lance didn't look as if he needed reassuring. He was smiling again.

“I've been worrying about that blood ever since we found the car,” he said. “But, thank you, I'm not worried now. Hal's blood type isn't A negative. It's O positive.”

T
HAT NIGHT WAS
one of the few times Nancy couldn't wait to get Bess out of her car.

“I still can't believe how gorgeous he is!” Bess kept saying all through dinner and even after they'd dropped George off. “Don't you think he likes me too? I mean, I know I'm younger than he is, but not that much. But, of course, this isn't the time to think about that—not with such a tragedy hanging over his head. Isn't it touching the way he's so concerned about Hal? He must really care a lot about people—”

She didn't even notice that Nancy wasn't paying attention or saying anything.

When Nancy dropped Bess off—still prattling on about Lance—she breathed a sigh of relief. Now she could start trying to think things through.

The problem was that none of the things she had learned so far fit together. There was the ransom note, the one Hal had found, printed on that expensive paper. Something about that note was bothering Nancy, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Then there was Monica. Good old Monica. She obviously didn't care a thing about Hal. She blamed him for destroying her relationship with Lance. And from all outward indications, she was glad to have him out of the picture. But did she want Hal out of the way permanently?

There was Amy too. Where did Amy fit into all this? It was certainly strange the way she'd turned up at the mall at the exact time Nancy was there. Had she known Nancy would be there? And had she been the one Nancy had overheard telling someone he would be a rich man soon?

The blood-spattered car—spattered with someone else's blood. The notebook paper with the vampire sketch at the bottom.

And what about Lester Mathers, the head of security at the mall? He'd seemed perfectly willing to talk to her—
until
she'd mentioned Lance's name. Then he had clammed up. Did
he know something about Lance, or did he, too, have something to hide?

Nancy shook her head as she pulled into her driveway. All she had were questions—and the longer she thought, the more questions she had. She knew that there was no point in trying to force answers to come. She would just have to wait—and let her subconscious get to work.

Maybe watching the scanner tapes from the mall would help. Nancy went into the house and inserted the Wednesday tape into the video recorder in the den and sat back on the sofa to watch.

Just then Hannah came in. She was already in her bathrobe, ready to relax for the evening. “Nancy,” she said. “I didn't know where you were all day. Are you okay?”

“Just fine, Hannah. I didn't mean to make you worry. Sorry. I'm just going to watch this tape and then I'm going to bed early.” She blew Hannah a kiss and turned back to the tape after Hannah had left.

It showed—well, a typical mall. Kids walking around. More kids. A mother yanking her toddler back into his stroller. Not much there.

Nancy's brain was ticking away as she watched. How did the kid called Dracula fit into the picture—if he
did
fit. And what about that Saint-Tropez travel brochure? It seemed strange that Lance would plan to take Hal on an
expensive vacation when he was supposed to be worried about money. Maybe Hal didn't know about his uncle's financial problems. Maybe there was some reason why Lance didn't want him to know about them!

Nancy watched the entire Wednesday tape without finding anything. She pulled it out and replaced it with Sunday's tape. “This one had better be good,” she murmured. “I'm tired of striking out.”

The tape started to roll. Nancy sat up with a start when she saw some kids who looked familiar—but then she fell back again. The reason they looked familiar was that she had just seen them on the other tape. Do they
live
there? she wondered. When do they ever go home?

All of a sudden she yawned. Her eyelids were growing heavy, and she stretched out on the couch with a throw pillow under her head. When she caught herself dozing, though, she forced herself to sit up again. And even though she was sleepy, she was still on the job.

Wait! Nancy literally jumped to her feet. Hal Colson was on the screen! She grabbed the remote control and rewound the tape until she found the place where he'd first come into view.

Her heart was racing. Yes, there he was. A perfect shot. He was even wearing the same
clothes as he had been in the ransom picture—a faded denim jacket covered with buttons of rock stars, a black T-shirt, and black jeans. But his outfit couldn't disguise what was basically a clean-cut preppy face. Bess should meet
him,
Nancy thought to herself. He's even better looking than his uncle.

Hal was talking to two tough-looking kids. One of them was tall, thin, and wiry. He had a Mohawk haircut and was wearing a baggy shirt and baggy pleated pants with the legs rolled up to just below his knees.

The other guy was
huge.
He had two different haircuts—almost shaved on one side, and long and straight on the other. His face was stubbly with a day's beard, and he had a tattoo on one cheek.

As Nancy studied the tape more closely, she thought she remembered seeing those two boys in the other tape as well. Now they were whispering to Hal, who kept glancing over his shoulder. Was he looking for someone—or making sure they weren't overheard? It was hard to tell.

Then all three boys slapped hands together, laughed, and walked out of camera range.

Well, Hal certainly hadn't been in danger at that point. Nancy replayed the tape again and studied the periphery this time. She was hoping
to catch a glimpse of Amy or Dracula, but they were nowhere to be seen.

It wasn't a lot to go on, but it would definitely do for then. At least she knew what some of Hal's friends looked like—and at least she had a
slightly
better idea of the time he'd been kidnapped. Nancy finally turned off the recorder and went to bed, deciding she'd return to the mall the next morning to try to find one or both of the boys who'd been talking to Hal. They might have been the last people to see him before he was kidnapped!

In bed Nancy ran everything through her mind one last time. She decided that she would never crack the case unless she could gain the confidence of a few of Hal's friends. They might be able to give her a clue—even a small one would be welcome right then. The case was going nowhere, and time was running out fast. She fell asleep, but then woke up a few hours later, still thinking about the case.

“I'll go undercover,” she murmured to herself drowsily. It seemed like a great idea until she was fully awake. Then Nancy realized it wouldn't work. Amy and Dracula already knew her face.

Suddenly she had another—better—idea. She glanced at the digital clock on her bedside table. It was 2:20
A.M
., but she didn't want to wait.

She picked up the phone and called George. “Mmmm-hello?” George said groggily.

“George. Nancy. I've just had a great idea, and you'll be perfect for it. You're going to go punk!”

“Nancy? Is that you?”

“Yes, it's me! Wake up, George! I saw Hal Colson on that scanner tape I got from Lester's office. He was talking to a couple of his friends, and I realized they'd probably be our best lead to Hal. But some of them would recognize me if I went undercover. So, will you do it? You'd be great!”

“Ummmmm—”

“Amy only saw you for a second when she was talking to me in the mall. With the right outfit you'd never be recognized. Come on, George! It'll be so easy!”

“Okay, Nancy, I'll do it,” mumbled George. “Just let me get a little more sleep first.”

“Sure. Sorry. Be here at eight in the morning, okay? Oh—and get Bess to fix you up before you come. She's good at that kind of thing.”

“Eight?” George sounded a little more wideawake now. “Why eight, Nancy? How early do you think those kids get up?
Some
people like to sleep late.”

“Oh, all right. Nine-thirty, then,” Nancy said. “Thanks, George.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow. Bye.” And George hung up.

• • •

She and Bess were at Nancy's promptly at nine-thirty the next morning. “You
are
perfect for this!” Nancy said as George walked into the den.

“Turn around and let her get the full effect,” said Bess. “I really think this is my masterpiece, Nancy.”

George did a pirouette in the center of the floor. The pink stripe Bess had sprayed through her hair provided an excellent camouflage. Combined with dead-white foundation and heavy eyeliner, the hair made George almost unrecognizable. She was wearing a black sleeveless sweatshirt, a black leather miniskirt, black fishnet stockings, black ankle-high boots, and about ten necklaces.

“No one will know who you are,” Nancy said. “I can't even believe it's you. Great work, both of you!”

She played them the scanner tape twice. Then she announced, “Now for the plan.”

“George, I want you to go over to the mall to see what you can find out. Do whatever you have to do to get close to some of those kids. But be careful—we don't know how, or if, they fit into this at all.”

“Got it,” said George.

“Bess,” Nancy continued, “I want you to go to the mall too. Trail George at a distance. Don't let her out of your sight. If these kids
are
involved, it could be really dangerous. Call me if you notice anything out of the ordinary—anything.

“I'm going over to the Colson mansion to talk to Lance. Then I'll meet you both back at the mall.”

Bess was pouting. “I have a much better idea. Why don't
you
go spy on George, Nancy? I'll take care of your business with Mr. Gorgeous.”

Nancy flashed her a grin. “Nice try, Bess. But no go.”

• • •

When Nancy arrived at the Colsons', she interrupted Lance as he was finishing his breakfast. Nancy knew that Lance hadn't gone to the office since the kidnapping on Sunday. Now it was Wednesday, and Nancy thought it was admirable of him to have dropped everything until he had some word about Hal.

“There's no news,” Lance said as he walked into the foyer to greet Nancy and escort her into the living room.

“Well, I have some,” she answered, telling him about what she'd seen on the scanner tape and the plan she'd put into motion that morning.

“Our time is running out, Lance,” Nancy
said. “I know this is a long shot, but we have to do something.”

“You're right,” he agreed somberly.

Nancy paused for a second. She'd been thinking about something else on the drive over. “Lance, I don't want to alarm you,” she said. “But I think you'd better go to the bank and get the ransom money today.”

“What?”

“It's nothing to worry about,” Nancy said. “But we could hear from the kidnappers at any time. Today's Wednesday, but they said we'd hear from them again by tomorrow morning. We may as well be ready. Once they make contact, there'll be no time to waste.”

“I'll go right now,” Lance said instantly. He looked thoughtful, then said, “Monica will be here this morning. She can man the telephone while I'm gone.”

Nancy wasn't sure he was right. The last time Monica had been told to stay by the phones, she went shopping instead. But it would have to do. Nancy couldn't sit around the house waiting for Lance to get back—she needed to get to the mall.

Monica's reaction to Lance's plan was no surprise to Nancy. “I don't want to stay here and baby-sit a telephone!” she protested. “Who do you think I am?”

Lance grimaced. “Nancy, why don't you go
on ahead?” he asked. “I'll just—just finish things up in here.”

Nancy guessed that he didn't want her to overhear an argument. She didn't want to stick around to hear it either. “Sure,” she said. “I'll call you later.”

She climbed into her car and turned the key. Nothing happened. Nancy tried again. Still nothing. What a time to have engine trouble! she thought.

Just then Lance stamped out of the front door. He looked furious, but he managed to compose himself when he saw Nancy. “What's up?” he asked.

“Engine trouble,” she said disgustedly.

“Mind if I use your phone to call the auto club?”