Moving Target (5 page)

“Not a Cannondale,” Nancy said. “It's one of the best bikes you can buy. Cannondale has an excellent reputation.” She stared up at him. “Which I thought you'd know, since your line of work is sporting goods.”

“Well, pardon me,” said Michael.

“Besides,” Nancy continued, ignoring his sarcasm, “these brakes have been tampered with. It looks like someone deliberately cut them just enough so that when George was going downhill and put on her brakes, the cables popped.”

CJ, who was also down on his knees beside the bike, stood up and put his arm around George. “I have to agree with Nancy,” he said to her, oblivious to the angry glare he was getting from Kendra. “Somebody messed with your bike, and you're lucky you weren't seriously injured.”

“Well, whatever exciting little story you want
to cook up to tell your friends is okay with me,” Michael said. He turned to George. “But meanwhile, darlin', it looks like you're without wheels. I'd be glad to give you a lift to the next town. I was on my way to the fair there when I passed by. We can load the bike in the back of the van.”

George hesitated, glancing from CJ to Nancy. It was clear that she didn't want to ride with Michael Kirby.

“Well, are you coming or not?” Michael said. “I don't bite.”

“Let's move it,” said Erik impatiently. “You don't have many options, Fayne, unless you want to walk your bike to Bannon House. It's about five miles.”

“Do you think you can ride a bike?” CJ asked George quietly, quickly sizing up the situation.

She nodded, her dark curls bobbing.

“Then take mine,” CJ said to her. “I'll ride with Michael. We'll put your bike in the van and fix it when we get to the inn. I've got extra cable if you don't.”

George looked up at him and grinned. “I always carry extra cable, and I've got my tools, but I could sure use the help. Thanks!”

“It's a smart thing to do, anyway,” CJ said, “to get back on a bike. I was in an accident two years ago, and my coach borrowed a bike for me and made me get right back on and keep going. Getting thrown like that is a real shock.” He
picked up George's bike and walked to the van, where Michael was waiting. “Change of passengers,” CJ said to Michael.

“Fine with me,” Michael replied, slamming the driver's door.

Nancy's usually cheerful face was serious as she observed the group. First the missing knee brace, Nancy thought, and now this “accident.” Who would want to hurt George? Erik was certainly a possibility. He really wanted to win this “recreational” run. It seemed hard to believe that he'd take their informal race so seriously, Nancy thought. But he had told the
Eagle
about their supposed contest, and it wouldn't look good if the paper printed that he had lost. And from what she had seen he was a total egomaniac.

Then there was Kendra, who was clearly jealous about CJ's attention to George. No, Nancy thought. She just couldn't imagine Kendra's knowing enough about a bike to cut the cables. Nancy couldn't even imagine the girl holding a pair of pliers! But it
would
be like Kendra to convince someone to help her.

Nancy turned and looked over at Jennifer, who was talking to Ned. Was Jennifer a possibility? She had seemed so friendly at first, but after Erik made a fuss about Nancy being a private investigator, she had pointedly distanced herself from Nancy and George. Was she just shy, or was she hiding something? But she had signed up for the
trip at the last minute and didn't seem to know much more about bikes than Kendra.

And when would anyone have had the opportunity to tamper with the bike? It would have to have been during their lunch break.

“I don't understand who would sabotage my bike,” George said to Nancy as the van pulled out.

“Well,
you
might, George.”

Nancy detected the distinctive scent of Kendra's expensive perfume and knew, before she turned around, who had spoken the barbed words.

“I mean, after all,” Kendra continued, “staging an accident—just a teeny one where you're not really badly hurt—is a great way to get attention, isn't it?” Her eyes flashed with jealousy as she confronted George. “If it's attention you want, you may get more than you bargained for.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” George asked. “Is that a threat?”

“No, only a warning.” She flicked a piece of fluff from her hot pink track suit. “Then again, maybe you just need to get training wheels until you learn how to ride.”

Ned, who had gone to check the brakes on the other bikes, came and stood by Nancy just in time to hear Kendra's final remark. “We need to get going,” he said briskly. “We don't have much daylight left.”

“Good idea,” Erik agreed. “I've heard enough of your garbage, Kendra. Chill out.”

George looked up quickly, surprised at this defense from an unexpected source. But her relief was short-lived as Erik continued. “It's hard enough riding with amateurs who don't look after their equipment”—he looked pointedly at George—“without having to listen to junk like that from people who have no reason to be here except to advance their social life.”

“Just what do you mean by that crack?” Kendra asked.

“I mean,” Erik said, “that some people don't know the difference between a bike trip and a dating service.”

Kendra's pretty face twisted into an ugly mask as she faced Erik. “And some people,” she snapped, “don't know the difference between a bike trip and an ego trip. Why don't you explain to us, Erik, why it is that every time you sign up for one of these outings, somebody has an accident?”

Erik flushed, and Nancy could see the cords in his neck straining, as his anger surfaced. But before he could say a word, Kendra stormed on. “Why don't you tell us the story about Jeffrey Long, Erik. Or maybe you'd like me to tell it. You almost
killed
him!”

E
RIK TURNED
his back on Kendra and moved toward his bike without answering. He kicked back the stand, swung his leg over the crossbar, and started out, pedaling fiercely. George, not about to give up on their competition, quickly followed, leaving the rest of the group standing by the side of the road.

Nancy grabbed Kendra's arm. “Tell me about Jeffrey Long,” she demanded.

Angrily Kendra shook Nancy's hand away. “You're the detective. You figure it out!”

Less than an hour later, Nancy braked as the group approached the bike compound at Bannon House.

Built in the late nineteenth century, the prim two-story farmhouse had been given an additional wing later to accommodate a second generation
of the Bannon family. When working the land no longer yielded sufficient income, one of the heirs had turned the place into a country inn. Its edge-of-town location and proximity to the main bike trails had made it a natural stopping place for cyclists.

As Nancy locked up her bike, she noticed that at least two dozen bicycles were already parked there. Obviously the Emerson group wasn't the only one taking advantage of the fall break.

When Nancy signed in at the desk in the main hall, she was told by the desk clerk that she would be in room twenty-two with George, who had signed in fifteen minutes earlier.

Nancy's anger at Kendra and Erik had not diminished during the five-mile ride. “I've got to find a phone,” she said to Ned, as he signed in. “The Emerson police should be able to tell me about Jeffrey Long, whoever he is. If Kendra thinks I'm not going to check this out, she's in for a big surprise.”

He smiled at her and nodded. “CJ and I are bunking together. I'll take your stuff up to your room while you make the call. And we'll keep an eye on George.”

Nancy gave him a quick hug and a grateful look. “Thanks, Nickerson,” she said, and then grinned. “I may keep you around.” She turned to the woman at the desk. “Is there a pay phone around that I can use?” The woman pointed to the game room in the back.

The room was deserted except for two college-age guys shooting pool at the far end. Nancy assumed they were with one of the groups whose bicycles she had seen outside. The phones were against a wall, sandwiched between a dart board and a large relief map of the area. Nancy walked over, picked up the receiver, and dialed.

“Emersonville Police Headquarters, Sergeant O'Malley here,” said a male voice.

“This is Nancy Drew. Is Lieutenant Easterling available?” She drummed her fingers on the counter beneath the wall phone while the sergeant checked. Then Lieutenant Easterling's familiar baritone voice came on the line.

“Nancy! How's the ride?”

“More exciting than I expected,” she replied. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Will you see if you have anything about a bike accident in Emersonville involving a Jeffrey Long? I'm not sure when it happened.” Nancy mentally computed a time frame. If Kendra was a junior now and had been on campus then . . . “It would have been within the last two years,” she added.

“Okay. I'm going to put you on hold.”

Lieutenant Easterling came back on a few minutes later, but the news was disappointing. “Nothing in our records,” he said. “But you know, I vaguely remember that name. Long was an Emerson student, right? There was something
in the newspaper. . . . Tell you what. Give me your number, and I'll get back to you in a few minutes. I'm going to call campus security.”

“Great!” said Nancy. “While you're at it, ask them if they have anything on Erik Olson or Kendra Matthews, will you?”

“Sure,” he replied. “What number are you at?”

Nancy squinted at the ancient phone and read off the number. “Will it take long?” she asked. “I'm at a pay phone in the game room.”

“Shouldn't,” Lieutenant Easterling said. “The campus records are computerized.”

“Thanks!” She hung up and looked around the large room. Wood-paneled walls and a beamed ceiling fit in perfectly with the rustic setting. There was a Ping-Pong table parallel to the pool table, and couches with overstuffed cushions sat under a long window that offered views of the forest beyond. The other wall was dominated by a massive stone fireplace.

It was a perfect room for relaxing in after a day's ride, and she could tell why the inn was popular with cyclists. Nancy took a magazine from a wall rack and curled up on the couch to wait. It seemed like hours before the phone rang. She jumped up and grabbed the receiver.

“Well, you picked a couple of winners,” Lieutenant Easterling said cheerfully. “Olson was involved in that accident with Jeffrey Long. Seems like they were both signed up for a race
last year, but Long had an accident with his bike the week before and never got into the marathon.”

“What kind of an accident?” Nancy asked.

“A freak accident. His wheel came off when he was on a training run. He broke an arm and some ribs, and one of his lungs was punctured. The kid was hurt really badly. He's recovered now. Olson had borrowed Long's bike the day before the accident. They were fraternity brothers. Olson was suspected of tampering, but nothing was ever proved. In fact, no charges were filed, which explains why we don't have a record of the incident.”

“What about Kendra Matthews?” she asked.

“Matthews is another story,” he said. “She's on campus probation this semester. In May she tore up the room of some gal who went out with her ex-boyfriend. And according to Mike—he's the campus cop I talked to—she's a spoiled brat. Too much money and mouth, and too little maturity and brains. Her father's some bigwig attorney.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” Nancy said. “Anything new on the burglaries?”

“Nope. Spaghetti Man isn't talking, and we haven't found any more of the stolen property. He's local. Works as night manager at Ed's Diner. Or did. Well, keep in touch.”

“What?” Nancy said, but the dial tone was already humming in her ear. She replaced the
receiver and leaned up against the wall. Ed's Diner! That had to be more than coincidence. And it might explain why Jennifer was so standoffish after she heard about Nancy's involvement in the capture. If Jennifer and the burglar both worked at the diner, they must know each other. Nancy walked quickly out of the game room.

“Erik Olson,” she said crisply to the woman at the desk. “What room is he in?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Thanks.” Nancy turned and quickly walked up the stairs to the second floor.

She paused in front of the door to room twenty-nine and took a deep breath. Then she raised her hand and banged on the door with her fist.

The look of surprise on Erik's face when he opened the door was unmistakable. “Well, well. I, uh, didn't expect to see you,” he stammered.

“I'll bet you didn't,” Nancy said, pushing past him into the small room.