High Risk (9 page)

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.”

N
ANCY 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 twenty-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.

The woman sniffed disapprovingly. “Miss Ferraro has been gone for at least an hour,” she informed Nancy. Then she turned firmly back to her work.

An hour? thought Nancy. So it could have been Michelle! she was thinking excitedly. The time fits, the method fits—she had to be the one who slashed my seat. Now, if I can prove it, I might be getting somewhere!

• • •

By evening, though, Nancy was discouraged. At home she'd used dusting powder to check the threatening note for fingerprints, but there were none. There were also none, other than her own, on the slashed seat.

She doubted that trying to trace the paper or the typewriter would help, either. The paper was generic looking, and the typeface had no revealing breaks or imperfections that would link it to a particular machine. How was she going to prove Michelle was involved? Michelle had covered her tracks perfectly!

Just then the phone rang.

“Hi, Nancy,” George said when Nancy answered. “I tracked down a list of the companies that rent space in that warehouse.”

“Terrific. How'd you do it?” Nancy asked.

“I called up the realtors for the building and told them I was with the FBI and that we suspected someone was hiding contraband in that warehouse,” George replied. Nancy heard her giggle over the line. “It was pretty funny. They practically fell over themselves to get me the list.”

“I believe it. I'll bet they're pretty shaken up since the murder,” said Nancy. “They probably think the warehouse is jinxed.”

“It's a pretty long list,” George went on. “About half the businesses in Mapleton are on it, I'd say. And there's one name you're not going to like—Mutual Life. They've been keeping old records there for years.”

Nancy's heart sank. That meant that Ned could have had the key to the warehouse. This was another nail in his coffin! “You're right. The prosecution could use that against Ned in court,” she said glumly. “But tell me something. Is Karsh's department store on the list?”

“Let's see—Karsh's, Karsh's—yes, it's here,” George replied after a minute. “Why?”

“That's where Michelle works,” Nancy told her. “It's one more link between her and the murder. Now if only I could get some hard evidence!”

After she and George talked about the case for a few more minutes, Nancy hung up. She had
promised to help Hannah with dinner that night, so she went down to the kitchen.

“Oh, Nancy, I forgot to tell you earlier,” Hannah said as she handed Nancy a head of lettuce. “Brenda Carlton called twice today. She said something about your owing her a scoop. She was very—er—persistent.”

Nancy smiled. Hannah really meant that Brenda was being a pain in the neck, as usual.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the lettuce and beginning to tear it up for salad. “If she calls again, tell her I'm working on a story that will knock her socks off.” I just hope that's true, she added to herself.

Over dinner Nancy told her father about what had happened at Mutual Life earlier and about having seen Michelle Ferraro. He was very concerned when he heard about her slashed car seat.

“Nancy, I really think we ought to tell the police about it,” he said worriedly. “I don't like the idea of that young woman threatening you. What if she decides to act on her threat?”

“Dad, even if I told the police, they don't have any evidence to arrest Michelle,” Nancy pointed out. “And it would scare her. I don't want to make her any more nervous than she is—until I find hard proof that ties her to the murder.”

Her father frowned, but finally he said, “All right, but be careful.”

When dinner was over, Nancy went out to her car, patched the broken window with a piece of plastic, and covered the torn seat with a sheepskin throw. With the case taking up all her time,
she didn't know when she'd be able to have it professionally fixed. Then she drove out to Mapleton to see Ned. She knew he must be going half crazy, cooped up in his house.

Mrs. Nickerson answered the door. “Hello, Nancy,” she said with an anxious smile. “Any news yet?”

“I'm working on it,” Nancy told her. She didn't want to raise Mrs. Nickerson's hopes falsely, but she didn't want to discourage her, either. “I think I'm onto something—I'm just looking for proof to support my theory.”

“Hey, Nan,” Ned called from the den. “I'm cuing up a movie on the VCR. You're just in time.”

With a smile at Mrs. Nickerson, Nancy went in and joined him.

They watched
The Heart's Reckoning.
It was one of Nancy's favorite romantic movies, but she found herself unable to concentrate on it. Her mind was too busy going over the angles of the case. She needed proof, hard evidence. But
where
was she going to get it?

“Hey,” Ned said as the credits started to roll. “You didn't pay any more attention to that movie than I did. What's on your mind?”

Nancy sighed. “Just the case, I guess.”

“Mmm. It's funny,” Ned said with a crooked smile. “I used to get ticked off sometimes when you were working on a case because you were so single-minded about it. But now that it's
my
neck in the noose, I'm glad that you're so diligent.”

Nancy twisted on the couch and put her arms
around him. “I love your neck, Ned, and I want to protect it,” she said with a smile.

Ned smiled, but then his expression grew serious. “You know,” he said after a moment, “I've been thinking about some things these past couple of days.”

“Like what?” Nancy asked softly.

“Oh, like how this whole mess got started,” Ned said. “It never would have happened if I hadn't been so set on proving myself.”

Nancy frowned. “At work, you mean?”

“At work,” Ned agreed, shrugging. Then he looked into her eyes. “But also, I think I was trying to prove something to you. I was trying to show you that I could be like you.”

“Oh, Ned,” Nancy said. She was amazed that they could have misunderstood each other. “I'm the one who should say I'm sorry. I wasn't very supportive of you.” She kissed him lightly on the nose. “Listen, the last thing in the world that I want is for you to be like me! Don't ever, ever think you have to prove anything to me. You're smart, you're fantastic looking, and you're incredibly sweet. I already know you're the most wonderful guy in the world.”