Make No Mistake (4 page)

Nancy got right to the point. “You said you were convinced that the man at Glover's Corners isn't the real Matthew Glover.”

“That's right—he's not,” Tony replied.

“Do you have any evidence?”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, and that dark, brooding look came back into his eyes. “Well, not hard evidence,” he told her. “But I
know
that guy is a phony.”

More opinion, Nancy thought. Opinion was a long way from being concrete proof. “Do you mean he doesn't look like Matt or sound like him?” she prodded.

“Oh, he looks like Matt would look now, if Matt were alive, and he sounds the way I remember Matt's voice. But he's not Matt.”

“In other words, it's just a feeling you have?” Nancy said, trying to keep her disappointment out of her voice. This was turning out to be a total waste of time.

Tony nodded. “It's not just a feeling. It's a
gut
feeling, as strong as they come.”

“Too bad they don't allow gut feelings to be admitted as evidence in court,” she said. The words sounded more sarcastic than she had meant them to be, and Tony shot her an angry look.

“I'm sorry,” Nancy said quickly, “but if you could just think of what it is that makes you so sure he's a fake, that would help. Was it the way he walked or some gesture he made? Matt was left-handed, according to my dad. I watched that guy yesterday, and he favored his left hand, too. But maybe there are some things like that that don't fit. Can you think of anything?”

Tony raked his fingers nervously through his short blond hair. “I can't think of anything specific, but I swear to you I'm right.”

Great, Nancy thought. Getting up from the chair, she told him, “I don't see what you think I can do to help.”

He pounded his hand on the desk so hard that Nancy jumped. “Can't you get to the truth about this guy?” he blurted out. Recovering himself, he went on more calmly. “I mean, you must have ways of working so that he wouldn't suspect you.”

Nancy shook her head. “If he's an impostor, he'll suspect everyone. I'm sorry, but unless you can give me something more concrete to go on, there's nothing I can do.” She stood up to leave.

Tony made a disgusted noise in his throat and turned away. Nancy walked out, casting a glance back over her shoulder. Tony's face was set in an angry grimace.

• • •

Nancy was surprised to find her father home when she returned from Tony Giralda's office. He was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of Hannah's soup. Nancy sat with him.

“I thought you were going to be tied up with Matt Glover all day,” she said. “It's only one-thirty.”

“I had to come back to pick up some papers,” Carson said, tipping his bowl to scoop up the last of the soup. “You know, Matt is coming through
with flying colors so far,” he told her. “He signed an affidavit, and the signature compares well with Matt's. There's a slight difference, but handwriting changes over time. Of course, I'll submit a sample of the writing to an expert, just to be sure.”

“Did he sign with his left hand?” Nancy asked.

“Yes, and he did it completely naturally.” Carson pushed the empty bowl away from him and then sighed. “Going over the writing samples could take a few days. It's a touchy situation, so we have to be very careful. Clayton's will is clear that his son is to inherit everything if he's ever found. That's usual in cases where a body hasn't been recovered. If Matt hadn't shown up, Glover's money was to be split up among several charities.”

“He didn't leave any to Mrs. Adams?” Nancy asked.

“Oh, there's a nice bequest to Rosemary,” he said. “But the rest, which amounts to several million dollars, was to go to charity.”

“I suppose he left money to the hospital,” Nancy guessed.

“Yes. There's also a large bequest to the hospital's day-care center and several bequests to smaller organizations and businesses.”

A sudden idea occurred to Nancy. Leaning forward over the kitchen table, she asked, “I don't suppose Tony Giralda's Environmental Action group would be one of them?”

Carson was surprised. “Yes,” he said. “As a matter of fact, it is. How did you know?”

Nancy told her father about her visit to the Environmental Action office. “From the look of the place, I can bet he has a hard time making ends meet. But he's incredibly devoted to his work. He seems practically fanatical about it.”

“A hefty bequest from Mr. Glover could be the answer to his financial problems,” Carson put in. “I see what you're getting at, Nancy.”

Nancy's blue eyes were wide. “Maybe Tony Giralda is fierce enough about his work to want to cheat the real Matt out of his legitimate inheritance!”

I
T'S A POSSIBILITY,
N
ANCY
,” Carson told her. “There's just one—”

Nancy didn't hear because she had already jumped up from the table and was heading for the front door. “I can hardly wait to tell Bess and George,” she said excitedly as she grabbed her jacket from the closet. “See you later, Dad.”

She drove over and picked up Bess, and then they went directly to George's.

“You mean Tony Giralda might be trying to frame Matt so he can get Mr. Glover's money?” Bess said after Nancy had told them about her encounter with Tony and the bequest to his organization. “That's disgusting!”

“Tony Giralda's not the only one who might be cheating to get a piece of the Glover fortune,
either,” Nancy went on. She explained her idea about Mrs. Adams coaching someone to play the role of Matt.

George brushed a hand through her short, dark curls and seemed extremely dubious. “I don't know, Nan. She seemed harmless to me.”

“Maybe,” Nancy said. “The point is, whatever we're dealing with, there may be more people involved in it than just Matt. I'm going to keep an eye on Tony Giralda and Mrs. Adams—and I think I need to check out Matt, too.”

“Where do we start?” George asked.

“Well, I'd like to check out Gary Page's credentials at the Chicago
Clarion,”
Nancy suggested.

George looked at her watch. “If we leave right now, we could be back by early evening.”

“Well,
I
already believe Matt,” Bess said. “But if it'll make you guys feel better, let's go.”

Nancy frowned. “I wish we had a photo of him to take with us, to show the people at the paper.”

“No problem,” said Bess, blushing a little. “I just happen to have a very recent picture of him.” She fumbled in her purse and drew out an instant photo of Matt.

“Where did you get that?” Nancy and George asked at the same time.

“I went over to the Corners this morning,” Bess said, her whole face bright pink now. “When Matt called last night, he said I should feel free to stop by, so I did. Mrs. Adams was snapping pictures of Matt and gave me one.”

“Pretty good detecting, Bess,” Nancy joked. “It's just what we need. Let's go.”

Bess grinned. “And I thought I was just flirting!”

• • •

The light snow had let up, so the three friends made good time. The
Clarion
offices were in the Loop, or downtown Chicago, and were in a building about five times as big as the one where the River Heights
Morning Record
was.

At the main receptionist's desk they were directed to the sixth floor, where another receptionist asked them what they wanted.

“We'd like to speak to someone about a reporter who worked here until a few days ago,” Nancy said. “Gary Page.”

The receptionist spoke into a phone, then told them, “Ms. McCoy will be with you in a moment.”

They could hear heels tapping smartly down a hall, and then a tall woman with shoulder-length black hair came into the reception area. “I'm Sheila McCoy,” she said. “I was Gary's editor—” She caught herself, then added, “I guess I should start calling him Matt Glover. I hope nothing's happened to him?”

Nancy introduced herself and assured Sheila McCoy that he was fine. “How long had he worked for you?” Nancy asked as the editor led her, Bess, and George back to her desk in the newsroom.

“About a year. He came with excellent references from a paper in Iowa City. He was a good reporter, and I'll miss him. They don't grow on trees, you know.”

She opened a file and took out a cutting. “I don't think I've ever seen any reporter with a better memory for detail. Here, this is a copy of one of the first stories he did for the
Clarion.
It's about a local entrepreneur—kind of a rags-to-riches story.”

Nancy glanced at the article with the Gary Page byline but didn't notice anything special about it. “What about his past?” she asked, looking up from the article. “Did Gary Page ever talk about his family or background?”

Sheila shook her head. “No,” she said. “He was
very
private. To say that he kept to himself would be an understatement.”

Pulling Bess's photo from her purse, Nancy asked Sheila if it was a good likeness of Gary Page. This time Sheila's eyes narrowed. “What's this all about, anyway?” she asked.

“We're, uh, working on an article for our local paper,” Nancy lied. “Matt Glover's a real human-interest story back in River Heights— that's where we're from.”

The smile returned to Sheila's face. “Well, good luck,” she told them. “Great shot,” she added after studying the picture. “Looks just like him.”

“May I keep this?” Nancy asked, holding up the article.

“Sure.” Sheila shook hands with them. “Say hello to Gary—I mean, Matt, for me.”

• • •

“Now we have all the proof we need,” Bess said, stirring her hot cocoa. After they'd left the
Clarion,
they had decided to stop at a diner for something to eat and drink before making the drive back to River Heights.

“Hold on,” Nancy said. “We need to find out a lot more.” She took a sip of her cocoa and stared out the window next to their booth. “All Sheila McCoy told us was that the man in the snapshot was the man she knew as Gary Page. That doesn't mean the guy is really Matt Glover.”

“Well, at least he told the truth when he said he'd worked at the
Clarion,”
George said. She was flipping through the jukebox selections at their table.

Nancy pulled out the article the newspaper editor had given her and skimmed through it. It was dated a little over a year earlier and was about some man who had once been a gardener for a private estate. He had opened up a landscape gardening business in downtown Chicago and had become very successful.

“It's very well written,” said Bess, reading over her shoulder.

There was a picture of the man, Jake Loomis,
but since it was a photocopy, the picture was a blur. Nothing about the article was helpful, and Nancy folded it and put it back in her jacket pocket.

“You know,” George said, “that woman said something funny—about Gary Page being a loner.”

Nancy nodded. “I was wondering about that, too. I mean, what kind of guy
never
mentions anything about his background during a whole year? Sheila McCoy saw him practically every day, but she says she knows nothing about him.”

“Somebody might act like that if he planned to vanish,” George proposed, downing the last of her cocoa. “A man who planned to impersonate someone who was dead wouldn't want people to know anything about him.”

“Oh, come on, you guys,” Bess cut in. “He had amnesia, remember. How could he tell anyone about his life?
He
didn't know anything about it.”

Bess glanced out the diner window, and suddenly delighted surprise lit up her face. “Look!” she exclaimed. “There he is—in that phone booth!”

Following Bess's gaze, Nancy immediately saw Matt's unmistakable figure. He was speaking into a pay phone a few yards from the diner. There was a vintage sports roadster beside him, and Nancy recognized it as having belonged to Mr. Glover.

“What's he doing here?” George wanted to know;

“We'll know soon enough,” Bess said, waving out the window until she got his attention. “He's coming over.”

Matt was wearing a broad grin as he hung up the phone and headed for the diner. “Hi, you guys,” he said cheerfully. He spoke to all of them, but Nancy noticed that he saved the fullest force of his deep blue eyes for Bess, and she was eating up the attention.

“What a treat,” he told her. “I get to see you twice in one day.” He leaned close to her and said jokingly, “We've got to stop meeting like this.”

“Not if I can help it,” Bess returned, laughing.

Nancy glanced across the table at George, who rolled her eyes as if to say, “She's really getting silly about this guy!”