Never Say Die (6 page)

“Why? Why else?” George said, choking back a sob. “So you can be with Debbi!”

Quickly George pushed out of the booth and stood up. Her sleeve brushed a water glass, and it fell to the floor. Everyone in the restaurant turned to look.

Silence descended, and in the sudden quiet George's sobs echoed loudly. But only for a moment. A second later she was gone.

“Great. Now you've done it,” Ned said, snapping at Bess as the exit door swung closed.

“Don't blame me,” Bess fired back. “I'm not the one who's two-timing!”

At that, Jon quietly left the booth and went
after George. As she watched him go, Nancy frowned. Would he be able to patch things up between them?

Watching through the window, she saw Jon catch up with George in the parking lot. They began to talk. To Nancy's relief, she could see George slowly begin to relax. After a few minutes, she even smiled and threw her arms around him.

Nancy relaxed, too. At least she didn't have to worry about George and Jon anymore, she thought. Her only problem now was getting the boxing gloves off Ned and Bess. They were still arguing.

Suddenly Ned broke off in the middle of what he was saying. He grabbed Nancy's arm. “Look outside!” he said.

Nancy again turned her gaze toward the window. A smiling Jon was walking back toward the restaurant, and George was walking toward her car.

“Yes, I already—”

“Look!”

Then she saw it. A pair of headlights snapped from low to high. Then suddenly she heard squealing tires. A car accelerated and was heading straight for George!

W
HAT HAPPENED NEXT
was difficult to follow. The car gunning for George was also pointed right at the window. In the dusky twilight the glare from its headlights made it difficult for Nancy to see.

For a moment George was silhouetted alone in the light. Then, as the car zoomed closer, a second silhouette flew into the picture and shoved George out of the way—Jon!

Nancy's heart skipped a beat. “Come on, let's go!” she said to Ned and Bess.

As they scrambled from their seats, the car swerved to the right, missing Jon by inches. The next second it shot past the restaurant window
and sped out of view. Nancy heard its tires shriek as it turned into the road.

Outside, Nancy sprinted to the end of the entrance drive, hoping to get a better look at the car.

But all she spotted were the red taillights as they disappeared around a distant corner. The license plate was also a blur.

Disappointed, she walked back to check on Jon and George. Both of them would be bruised, but otherwise they were okay. A small crowd was gathering around them.

“That was a close call,” Jon said, wiping the dirt from his hands.

George put her arms around him. “Too close! If anything had happened to you—”

“Luckily, nothing did,” Ned commented. “What I want to know is, who was driving that thing? Did anyone get a look?”

Jon shook his head. “Not me.”

George shook her head, too. “I was looking at Jon.”

Nancy, Ned, and Bess hadn't seen who it was, neither. Nor had anyone else in the restaurant. Nancy questioned people in the crowd, but all of them had either been looking somewhere else or, like her, had been blinded by the glare of the car's headlights in the window.

“Whoever planned that attack was either very lucky or very smart,” Nancy remarked.

“Are you sure it was planned?” Jon asked.

“Well, it wasn't an accident!”

Suddenly George cried, “Wait a minute—check out my car!”

Everyone turned. The station wagon's rear gate was wide open. Together, Nancy, Ned, George, Jon, and Bess ran across the lot.

George got there first. “Oh, thank goodness! My bike is still there!”

“Yeah, but the car's in pretty bad shape,” Ned said with a frown.

It certainly was. The rear window had been smashed, and there were scratches in the paint around the rear door lock.

“Looks like someone was trying to steal the bike,” Jon said.

“Maybe,” Nancy replied.

“Only maybe?” Bess asked.

“It's equally possible that whoever it was saw George leave the restaurant and smashed the window to make it
look
like a theft attempt.”

“You know, I did hear glass breaking as I came out,” George said.

“I don't get it,” Jon put in. “If the crook wasn't trying to steal the bike, then what
was
he trying to do?”

“Sabotage it,” Nancy said grimly.

Ned nodded. “That would explain the scratches around the lock. At first the killer tried to break in, but then, when he saw George, he changed his plan—to a hit-and-run.”

Bess shivered.

“So who was it?” George asked after a minute had passed.

“I'm not sure,” Nancy said tightly. “But there's one way we might be able to find out. Ned, can you come with me? I may need your help.”

• • •

Ten minutes later Nancy pulled her Mustang into the parking lot of the Imperial Motel. Every single space was occupied.

“Good. This should be easy,” she said.

“What are you going to do?” Ned asked her.

Nancy parked near the front office. “Come on. I'll show you.”

Climbing out, she walked over to the first row of parked cars. One by one, she placed her hand on the hoods.

Ned joined her. “I get it. You're feeling for warm engines.”

“Uh-huh. If someone wanted to tamper with George's bike, it would probably be someone who's staying here. I want to see if any of these cars have been driven recently.”

Down the row she went, pausing at each hood. The parking spaces were numbered, and Nancy noticed that each number corresponded to the room closest to it.

“This one's warm,” Ned said. His hand was on the hood of a subcompact.

Nancy felt it. “Yes, but not warm enough. That car was really going fast when it hit the road. That engine was hot!”

Finally, Nancy jerked her hand back sharply from a sizzling hood. Stepping back, she surveyed the car. It was a station wagon. Black lettering decorated its doors, and a dog cage filled the rear compartment. It was Debbi Howe's car!

“Room one fifty-five,” Ned said.

The door was right in front of them. The windows were dark. Marching up to the door, Nancy rapped loudly. A muffled voice answered from inside, and a minute later the door swung open.

Debbi was wearing a blue cotton nightgown, and she looked at Nancy and Ned sleepily. But her nightgown wasn't wrinkled, and Nancy noticed her hair wasn't tousled, either.

“What do you two want?” Debbi asked.

“We want to talk to you.”

“Forget it. I'm going back to sleep.”

“Really?” Nancy couldn't keep the impatience from her voice. “If you were asleep, just who was driving your car?”

Debbi scowled at her. “What is this, some kind of joke?”

“No,” Nancy said. “The hood of your car is red hot. It's been driven recently.”

“So? What if it was?”

Nancy narrowed her eyes. “Someone tried to run George Fayne down tonight.”

“Look, smarty,” Debbi hissed. “I don't know what you're getting at, but whatever it is, I don't like it. Why don't you just get lost?”

“Not until I get some answers.” The door was closing, but Nancy stopped it with her foot. “Were you or weren't you in the parking lot of Big Top Burgers tonight?”

“I wasn't.”

Nancy pressed her point. “Then how did your car engine get so hot?”

“Look, if you must know, I drove over to Riley City to see some friends,” Debbi confessed. “I just got back.”

That would explain where her car had been, but was she telling the truth? “You can prove you were there?” Nancy asked.

“Yes. But why should I?”

“Because—” Nancy stopped, not sure what to say next.

“Because you think I was somewhere else, right? Well, let me tell you something. I don't care what you think. You're not the police. If you were, I'd prove to you that I was in Riley City. But you're not, so leave me alone!”

With that, she started to shut the door again, but once more Nancy stopped her.

“Look, Debbi,” she said angrily, “someone tried to run George down tonight. At the very least, I think you know who it was.”

“So?”

“So, I suggest you confess. If you're honest now, things will be easier later. But if you lie—”

“Then what?”

“I mean it, Debbi.”

“Good for you,” she said. “Now, get this—I didn't try to run down your friend. But maybe she'd better watch out from now on,” Debbi added. “If the opportunity presents itself, I just might try to hurt her.”

This time when Debbi slammed her door, Nancy didn't stop her.

• • •

When Nancy arrived home later, she was furious with herself. Debbi had outbluffed her. She was almost sure that Jon's ex-girlfriend had tried to hit George, but she couldn't prove a thing.

Worse, it was her own fault. She'd lost her temper and tipped Debbi off. Right then, Debbi was probably putting together a rock-solid alibi. Even if Nancy went to the police, it wouldn't do any good. When they questioned Debbi, the first thing she would do was prove that she'd been visiting friends in Riley City that night.

Nancy climbed out of her car and slammed the door. On her way into the house, she noticed that Steven Lloyd's car was also parked in the driveway.

The two men were in her father's study discussing the break-in at Steven's office. It had only
happened that morning, but to Nancy it seemed as if it were a week ago.

“Have the police got any leads?” she asked, joining them.

“Not really,” Steven said.

Nancy frowned. “The guy hasn't called to tell you where to drop the money?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “What's he waiting for?”

Behind his desk, Carson Drew leaned back. “Count your blessings, Steven. Raising a million in cash isn't easy on such short notice.”

“No. And I really appreciate all your help.”

Both men glanced at the blue nylon gym bag that was sitting on the desk. With a jolt, Nancy realized that it must contain the money—one million dollars.

She dropped into a leather club chair. One million dollars. That must be some program, she thought. Too bad the police didn't have any leads yet.

Just then the telephone rang. Nancy's father scooped up the receiver and held it to his ear. Seconds later he sat up straighter, and his eyes grew wide.

He handed the phone to Steven. “It's our man,” he whispered. “You'll have to listen hard. His voice is being distorted by some sort of electronic device.”

Steven took the receiver. “Hello? Yes . . . yes . . .”

The conversation was short. Nancy's heart was pounding with excitement. Leaning forward, she put her elbows on her knees.

“Well, we've got instructions,” Steven said as he hung up. “He definitely wants a million.”

“Where and when?” Carson Drew asked.

Steven's face clouded. “That's the strange part—he didn't say.”

“What!”

“He said he'd call back with further instructions.”

“When?”

“He didn't say.”

“Hmm.” Nancy's father leaned back and pressed his fingertips together, looking puzzled. “But what's most strange is how he knew to call you here.”

“Good question,” Steven replied. “I didn't tell anyone I was coming over, not even my secretary.”

“You're sure?”

“Positive. I wrote it in my date book, but . . .”

For a moment no one spoke. Why didn't the extortionist want the money right away? It didn't make sense. Nancy turned the point over and over in her mind, but no explanation presented itself.

Finally, Steven cleared his throat. “Carson . . .” he began, sounding uncomfortable.

“Yes?”

“The extortionist also mentioned the courier.
When the time comes, he doesn't want me to carry the money myself.”

“Oh? Who does he want?” Nancy's father asked.

Steven swallowed and looked down. “I don't know how to tell you this, but he—he wants Nancy!”