Never Say Die (8 page)

It was a hot day, and a few people were already in the pool. Walking up to the soda machine behind the front office, Nancy pretended to study the selection. From there, she eyed the people at the pool. Debbi was not among them. No problem, she thought. She knew which room was Debbi's.

Casually, Nancy walked past Debbi's room. She could hear the TV but nothing else. Just then, the phone rang and Debbi picked it up, saying, “Oh, hi, Mom.”

Nancy's heart began to thump as she listened through the door. Perfect! She could hear every word.

“Sure, I remember,” Debbi said in a sullen tone. “I had to go out last night—I couldn't wait for your call. . . . I'm sorry. Yes, it was very late when I got back—about two. . . . Uh-huh, I'm learning a lot about racing. It could be a good sport for me with the skating. Okay, yeah. I'll be
home soon. . . . Yeah, I promise, no more late nights. . . .”

Nancy couldn't believe her luck. She had the evidence she had come for, so she hurried back to her car.

• • •

“She did what?” Ned asked.

Nancy had gone over to the velodrome. Ned, Bess, and George were gathered around her in the parking lot, their mouths hanging open.

“I said, she was out last night until two a.m.! That's not proof, of course, but it's quite a coincidence.”

“So it could have been Debbi who was creeping around my house with a butcher knife last night!” George said.

“That's how it looks to me.”

“I can't believe it. Who'd have thought she'd actually try to kill me?”

“I'm not surprised,” Bess said, crossing her arms. “A man stealer like that would try anything, I bet.”

Ned shook his head and sighed. “I'm sorry, Bess, but I can't agree. Sure, Debbi wants to get Jon back, but murdering George to do it? That's too extreme. I don't think we have enough evidence.”

Nancy listened with mixed feelings. At first she'd been excited, but now she wasn't so sure. Ned was right. The evidence was very circumstantial.

Ned rubbed his chin. “Then again, I could be wrong. After all, Debbi
is
the best suspect we've got. What do you think, Nancy?”

“Well, of all the suspects in the case, Debbi looks as good as anyone,” Nancy said slowly. “Every time something's happened, she's had the opportunity to do it.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Bess asked.

“Better evidence. When we go to the police, I want them to be convinced that we're right.”

Just then, Jon walked up. “Hi, everyone. What's going on?”

Quickly, Nancy told him. She had expected him to react badly—after all, he
had
been in love with Debbi—but she wasn't prepared for the guilty look on his face.

“I don't know how to tell you this,” he said, looking down. His face was red. “I guess I have to, though—”

“Tell us what, Jon?” George asked.

“Debbi couldn't have been the one who was in your house. She was with me last night.”

A
FTER
J
ON'S ADMISSION,
things went a little crazy. Everyone began talking at once. While Nancy mentally assessed the damage to her theory, George kept asking Jon what he was doing with Debbi at that hour.

“It's not what you think,” Jon explained, looking down at his hands. “She still wouldn't leave me alone, so last night I took her out to try to convince her once and for all that we're finished. She wouldn't believe it at first, and that's why we were out so late.”

“Yeah, right,” Bess said.

George was sniffling. “How could you do that without telling me?”

“I-I'm sorry, George. I didn't want to ruin your concentration.”

“Why not? We said we'd share everything with each other, didn't we?”

“Yes, but—”

“You should have shared this with me. Especially this!” George was crying openly. “I can't believe this is happening,” she said in a small voice. “I just can't believe it. I trusted you!”

Jon said nothing.

“Well, no more. That's it,” George continued. “You can keep coaching me if you want, but otherwise our relationship is over.”

“George! Come on, you don't mean that.”

“Yes I do! I mean it. We're through. Don't call me anymore.”

“But, George—”

Turning, she ran off. Bess shot Jon an icy glare and followed her cousin. When they were gone, Nancy, Ned, and Jon were left together. An awkward silence fell. Jon looked devastated.

Nancy felt miserable. She wanted to believe Jon's story, but at the same time she understood George's feelings. Jon should have told her the truth. What a complete and total messl

And that didn't even take into consideration her case!
That
was also a shambles. Debbi was out as a suspect, and now all she had left were questions.

• • •

Later that day George rode in the Women's Points Race. All the contestants started together, and every fifth lap they sprinted for points. Whoever had the most points after fifty laps won the race.

A lot of strategy was involved in a points race, but Nancy didn't pay close attention. She was still mulling over the dramatic turnaround in the case.

About halfway through the race, Nancy looked up. It was a sprint lap. George and Monique Vandervoort were leading the field, sprinting side by side at forty miles an hour. All at once Monique swerved sharply. Forced off balance, George fell.

A gasp of horror rose from the stands. The spectators stood. On the track, George spun around twice. Because her feet were locked to the pedals, she couldn't move.

A second later the other riders reached George. Two of them plowed into her and toppled over. More followed.

All over the infield, coaches, trainers, and support crews began to run. Nancy took off, too. But Jon reached the scene first, and by the time Nancy arrived he had already pulled both George and her bike from the track. Quickly, he unlocked her feet from the pedals, and George stood up.

“Are you all right?” Nancy asked.

George leaned over and braced her hands on her knees. When she had caught her breath, she nodded. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

“But look at your arms!” Nancy exclaimed.

George checked them. They were raw and bleeding. “Oh, that's just a little road rash,” she said, smiling weakly.

Nancy was horrified, but before she could say another word, Peter Cooper ran up. “George, are you okay? Let's get you to the medic table. Here, I'll take this—”

Grabbing her bike, he began to wheel it away.

“No, leave it!” George said.

Peter stopped, a mixture of confusion and anger on his face.

“I'm going back in.”

“What?” Nancy gasped. “George, you've got to be kidding!”

George shook her head. “The rules say I have three laps to rejoin the field.”

“B-but the bike—!” Peter stammered. “Surely it's ruined after that pileup.”

Without a word, Jon snatched it from Peter's hands. Lifting it, he spun the pedals. The rear wheel turned freely.

“It's fine. Here you go, George.”

“No!” There was genuine horror in Peter's voice, but it was too late. As he spoke, George climbed back on and began to ride along the apron. One lap later she picked up speed and smoothly slipped into the field of riders.

The crowd cheered. The only person who wasn't impressed was Peter. Nancy turned to speak to him, but her comment stuck in her throat. His eyes were blazing. He looked furious. She began to wonder why, but her attention was drawn back to George.

For several laps she had been sitting in—drafting at the back of the field. Then, slowly, she began to attack, challenging Monique. In each of the remaining sprints, George won points. When the race was over, the scoreboard gave her twenty-seven to the Dutch girl's twenty-nine.

Then there was an announcement “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please. The judges have ruled that rider number seventeen, Monique Vandervoort of Holland, has been disqualified.”

George was the official winner! Smiling happily, she posed for pictures in the infield. Nancy watched, wondering how long George's smile would last. She still had her breakup with Jon to adjust to. Or would they get back together? Could she forgive him?

George also had to cope with Monique. As the photographers drifted away, the Dutch girl walked up and stared unblinkingly at her. Nancy stepped close.

“You won with a trick,” Monique hissed in lightly accented English.

“What?” George asked, surprised.

“You do not deserve to win the race. You cheated.”

George was shocked. “I cheated? What about you? I know that swerve wasn't accidental. You did it deliberately to make me fall!”

“That is what you say!” Monique smiled nastily.

“That's what the judges said, too.”

Monique's smile changed to a hostile frown. “I warn you, George Fayne, do not try to challenge me anymore.”

“Oh no? Why not?” George returned her frown.

“Because you may have another accident.”

Nancy's ears perked up.

“So far you have come out okay,” Monique continued. “But next time—next time, I promise, you will not be so lucky.”

T
HAT EVENING THE
extortionist phoned Steven Lloyd. The instructions that Steven repeated to Carson Drew were simple. Within ten minutes Nancy was ready.

At precisely 9:59 p.m. Nancy—wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and a plain white shirt that would enable anyone to follow her even in the dark—stepped into the phone booth at the corner of Main and Maple. Behind her was the all-night drugstore. Half a block away, her father and Steven Lloyd waited in a car. Half the detectives in the River Heights police department were also nearby in unmarked cars, but Nancy couldn't see them.

Closing the door of the booth, Nancy dropped the heavy gym bag she was carrying onto the floor and checked her watch. The numbers were changing. It was exactly 10:00
P.M.

She waited.

And waited.

The phone did not ring. Then she suddenly noticed a slip of paper tucked into the coin return. Her heart leaped. Grabbing it, she unfolded it and read:

You have exactly twenty minutes to reach your final destination. If you do not make it, the program will be sold. Your next instructions are in the phone booth at the corner of Main and First. Run.

Main and First—that was five blocks away! She would have to hustle. Dropping the note, she grabbed the gym bag, yanked open the door, and took off.

Five blocks later, she was breathing hard. The bag was awkward and it made running difficult. Were her father and Steven following her? Probably, but she couldn't stop to check. The first note had said that she had only twenty minutes, and she had just used up three.

Spotting the phone booth at the corner of a gas-station lot, Nancy sprinted up, pushed
through the door, and stuck her finger into the coin return to retrieve the next note.

Two blocks north. Two blocks west. Go diagonally across the field. Next note in the clown's mouth.

The clown's mouth? A field? Nancy didn't have time to stop and think. She memorized the instructions, then turned and ran.

Four blocks later, she came to the back of the high school. A vast, dark football field stretched in front of her. That explained the “field” part, anyway. She ran across the field. Glancing at the illuminated dial of her watch, she saw it was 10:09. She ran even faster.

Finally, on the other side, she stopped and looked around. There! A block away she spotted the abandoned miniature golf course, which had been closed for years. She dashed across the street and jumped the low chain-link fence. There was a carved wooden clown in the middle of the course. She stuck her hand into its red-lipped mouth. The note she found inside read: