Sabotage At Willow Woods (12 page)

I stared at her, surprised. “Take care of it how?” I asked. “We need to get him out of here. Who knows what he’ll try next?”

Julia glanced over at Barney, then turned back to me, leaning in to speak quietly right into my ear. “I want to keep this quiet, Nancy. This night has already been a bit of a PR nightmare. I realize I’m responsible for that, and I’m so sorry, but I can’t take it back now—I just need to keep the campaign rolling.” She paused and gave me a serious look. “I’m going to call the police
and they’ll come get Barney. But I don’t want to make a big scene, okay? We’re going to try to handle this without any of the audience finding out.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but then stopped. It
felt
wrong—not to see Barney led out in handcuffs, not to have my big moment of
I knew it was you!
as he was led out by the cops. But when I thought about what Julia had said, I knew she was right. I’d become involved in this case because I believed in Carrie’s campaign and didn’t want to see it destroyed. And what was best for her campaign was to handle this quietly, with little fanfare.

“Okay,” I said softly, with a little nod. “I’ll go sit down. But can you tell the police to hurry, please? I’m worried about what might happen if Barney’s here for the speeches.”

Julia agreed. “I hear you, and I’ll tell them,” she said, shaking her head. “The last thing we need is another embarrassing incident!”

I took a deep breath. “Okay. Thanks.”

Julia actually patted me on the back as I turned and
made my way back to the table. When I sat down I looked back in her direction and could see that she was already deep in conversation on her cell phone. She gave me a little wave, then disappeared back into the hallway.

I tried to regulate my breathing.

George reached over and squeezed my arm. “You okay, Nance? Your face is a little flushed.”

Breathe. Breathe.
“I’m okay.” I considered telling her what had happened, but the basketball players and their dates were all watching us eagerly, their faces warm with concern. “I—I thought I saw a mouse in the restroom. I
hate
mice. But it was just a dust bunny.”

Everyone laughed, and before the conversation could progress much further, a tall, burly redhead stood up and approached the podium.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “My name is Ted Gelman, and I play tight end for the Boylestown High School state champion football team.”

The audience erupted in cheers. Ted was one of the three football players Julia had selected to get up and speak about the athletics program and how Carrie’s
proposal would change things for the better. I struggled to relax as Ted’s speech continued without incident. He was self-deprecating and funny, and the audience was responding just as we’d hoped they would—with warmth and interest.

But when Ted had been speaking only a few minutes, I glanced up and my heart jumped into my throat. Barney was approaching with a carafe of coffee. As I watched carefully, he went around the table, pouring coffee into George’s and Ned’s cups. I demurred, and he nodded kindly and moved on. If he had any idea that I’d told Julia to call the police to take him away, he gave no indication.

Speaking of which,
where were the police?

Ted finished his speech to roaring applause, and then a shorter African-American boy with dreadlocks stepped up to the podium. “Hi, I’m Trent Wickham, and I play defense for the Boylestown High School
state champion
football team,” he began. Again, the audience greeted him with warm applause. Trent began talking about what the football program meant to him, how
it had changed his life and his outlook, and I stared stubbornly at the clock. Then Barney, who was leaning against the wall again. Then the clock.

Where are the police?

My heart was beginning to pound. Barney might have planned something to disrupt the speeches at any minute—and who knew what that something could be? So far his stunts had just been meant to embarrass Carrie, but what if he’d planned something more dangerous? What if someone got hurt? It might seem far-fetched, but he’d killed a squirrel, for goodness’ sake. Wasn’t that one of the warning signs of a child sociopath—cruelty to animals?

“Anyway,” Trent was saying, and I realized that five more minutes had gone by and I’d not heard a single word of his speech. “I just want to express my wholehearted support of Carrie Kim, who was an athlete herself, and her amazing sports complex proposal, which will change the lives of many more young people like me.”

Everyone whooped and clapped, and I slapped my
hands together on autopilot.
Should I find Julia again?
But then I saw them.

Two uniformed Boylestown police officers, making their way along the side of the ballroom toward the kitchen.

My heart leaped. They headed toward the kitchen, and one of the cops said something to Barney, who looked confused. The second officer gestured for him to calm down, and then pointed down the hallway, like he wanted the three of them to go and talk elsewhere. Barney frowned but followed, still looking confused, and the three of them slipped out of my sight.

It took every bit of willpower I had not to leap up and run down the hallway, but I knew that in doing so, I would only make more of a scene. Still, I focused every hearing muscle I had in the direction of the kitchen. Maybe I was just imagining things, but I felt I could make out raised voices over the din of conversation as the third football player slated to speak, a red-faced blond boy, stood up.

“WHAT?!” The shout was brief and furious, and
definitely Barney’s voice. I squirmed in my seat, but just then the football player stepped up to the podium, and the crowd began cheering wildly.

“I’m Frankie Ludlow,” he said, “and I play QB for the Boylestown High School
state champion
football team!”

More cheers and applause. If anyone in the audience had heard Barney’s shout from the kitchen, it was quickly forgotten. But then I heard, clear as day, one more outburst in Barney’s voice.

“Aunt Julia—what’s going on?”

I lost my breath for a moment.
Wait a minute
—Aunt
Julia?

“And I’m here to tell you,” Frankie Ludlow was saying, but he had to wait for the applause to die down. “I’m here to tell you . . .”

I got unsteadily to my feet as Frankie finally got the first line of his speech out.

“I’m here to tell you why electing Carrie Kim to the town council would be a
huge
mistake for Boylestown!”

THE HOOTING AND APPLAUSE DIED
down immediately. A gasp went through the crowd, which immediately grew silent, wanting to hear exactly what Frankie Ludlow had to say.

“Carrie Kim’s sports complex would
destroy
the local environment! Do you know how many unique species live in Willow Woods, in the trees she’s planning to tear down to build a new football field? They’ll be gone forever, people, they’re not going to be able to live in a few scraggly trees planted on the current field!”

I knew I should run back to the kitchen and see
what was going on, but I felt like my feet were stuck in concrete. Frankie’s face shone with passion, and I could tell the audience believed he truly meant every word he was saying. But who had arranged for him to do this? Julia had chosen all the speakers.
Julia . . .

I turned around and spotted her then, slipping out of the kitchen with a look of pure pride and delight on her face. She seemed to catch Frankie’s eye and nodded to him, making a
keep going
gesture. Frankie turned back to the mic, adding details about what the turfing process would do to local groundwater and wildlife.

I glanced at Bess and George. Their faces were mirrors of my own shock.
Julia,
I mouthed to them.

“So as I’m sure you can understand by now,” Frankie went on, pounding the podium with his fist for emphasis, “while I support the high school sports program, I
don’t
think that athletics are more important than taking care of the planet. . . .”

The police started escorting Barney out of the kitchen at that point. He was handcuffed, and while it was clear they were trying to be discreet, several eyes
in the audience turned to watch as Barney was dragged out, still protesting.

“This wasn’t me! I swear! I was just . . .”

Over the din of Frankie’s speech, the confused chatter in the ballroom, and Barney’s anguished shouts, I could suddenly make out another sound. Banging. Coming from the hallway where Julia had told me Carrie was “working on her speech” in the restroom.

“Let me out!”
Carrie’s voice was barely distinguishable in the loud ballroom.
“Frankie isn’t telling the truth! JULIA! Why did you lock the door?”

That finally gave me the motivation to pull my feet from where they felt welded to the floor. I shot a meaningful glance at Bess and George as I went, and they sprang up from their seats and followed me as I ran over past the kitchen, down the hallway, and to the restroom where Carrie was imprisoned.

“Carrie, are you all right?” called George.

“I’m fine, but I’m stuck in here!” Carrie yelled back. “Julia must have locked me in from the outside! And I could hear the speech Frankie’s making. . . .”

Bess was already digging in her purse before Carrie could finish her sentence. Within seconds, she handed me her precious credit card. “You know the rules,” she said, giving me a warning look. “No damage to the magnetic strip. I’ve already asked for two replacement cards.”

I nodded. “You know I’m a pro, Bess.”

The card slid easily between the frame and the edge of the door, and with a few flicks of the wrist, I’d soon wedged it around the bar that held the door shut and forced it back, picking the lock. I turned the knob and pulled the door open, revealing a red-faced Carrie—still holding the scribbled-on printout of her speech.

Before she could speak, I held up my hand. “Hold that thought,” I said, shoving the credit card back into Bess’s hand and running down the hallway to where Julia stood, watching the chaos in the ballroom with a thrilled expression.

“So I hope you’ll join me,” Frankie was saying now, “in
rejecting
the
preposterous
and
irresponsible
plan Carrie Kim has put forth. . . .”

I grabbed Julia’s arm. “How much did you pay him?”

She turned to me with a look of surprise that quickly turned to pride. She grinned. “Why, I didn’t have to pay Frankie anything, Nancy. I just offered him a personal recommendation to Bridgetown University, you know, Carrie’s and my alma mater—and Frankie’s dream school.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What do you have against Carrie?” I asked. “I thought you two were best friends.”

Bess and Carrie emerged from the hallway then, and Carrie caught Julia’s eye. Carrie’s face was filled with surprise and hurt, but Julia looked almost pleased as she folded her arms again and smiled tartly. I had just thought to wonder where George had gone when suddenly the sound system cut out, leaving Frankie near silent on the podium, tapping confusedly at the mic.

“Is this on?” he asked.
Tap, tap.
“Can everybody hear me?”

He turned to frown at Julia.

Carrie clutched her speech in her hand and walked over to Julia and me. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were dark with fury. “You did this?” she hissed at Julia, gesturing to Frankie. “The notes, the squirrel? You’re behind all of it?”

Julia did something really disturbing then: She laughed. A real, delighted laugh. “That’s right,” she whispered. “And you had it coming! Our whole lives, you’ve been treated like the golden child, having all kinds of doors opened for you because of your stupid tennis championship. I was always the smart one, but
noooo
, nobody cares about intelligence anymore!”

Carrie frowned at her. “What? I had no idea you felt this way.”

Julia’s easy laugh turned into a scowl. “Do you remember when we both applied for that job in Congresswoman Rudolph’s office? I knew every word of her policies, had studied her every action on the Hill, and you
still
got the job—because Rudolph played tennis in college and thought you were some kind of
kindred spirit!” She paused. “Do you remember that, Carrie? Do you?”

Carrie’s forehead creased. “I do remember that, Julia, but I had no idea you were still so upset about it.” She moved closer. “That’s when you got the assistant job at your PR firm, and I thought that made you happy. . . .”

Julia’s eyes flashed at her old friend. “You were wrong,” she snapped. “I was sick over that job—and I’m
still
sick that people think sports are the be-all and end-all of achievement! Well, you’ve had your comeuppance now. You quit your job to run for office, and now you’re going to lose.”

Carrie stared at Julia. Her eyes, still filled with hurt, seemed to harden into tiny black stones. “We’ll see about that,” she hissed. “I haven’t got my come-anything. The election hasn’t happened yet!”