Stalk, Don't Run (9 page)

That was a tough question. Everyone we’d seen in town lately had on sleeveless or short-sleeved shirts. Everyone except . . .

“Mr. Safer!” I said. “He wears a clean white smock every day in his cheese shop.”

“Do you still think Mr. Safer had something to do with the sisters going missing?” Bess asked.

“Even if he was upset with Mandy, Mallory, and Mia,” George said, “why would he want to hurt you?”

“Like we said before—to keep me from finding out the truth,” I said. “Mr. Safer knows I’m a detective too.”

We were almost at the police station when Bess said, “My dad’s tools were stolen
before
Mr. Safer asked the sisters to be in his play. What reason would he have to do away with them then?”

“Good point,” I said, though I was still pretty suspicious of Mr. Safer’s weird behavior. And his white jacket.

Bess parked in front of the station. We stepped out of the car, and there was Deirdre Shannon coming out of the building. She looked at us, but kept walking.

“Deirdre, where are you going?” I called. “Aren’t we all going to speak to Chief McGinnis?”

“I’ve said everything I need to say,” Deirdre said, brushing past us.

“Okay,” George said when Deirdre was out of earshot. “Can someone tell me what that was all about?”

“It’s just Deirdre being Deirdre.” I sighed. “Come on. We don’t need her in order to speak to Chief McGinnis.”

The air-conditioned police station felt great as we walked inside. An officer behind the front desk told us to go directly into the chief’s office.

“Hello, Chief McGinnis,” I said as we filed in.

“I’ve been expecting you, girls,” Chief McGinnis said in his usual gruff voice. “Have a seat.”

Three chairs were facing the chief’s desk. I sat between Bess and George, eager to talk about the Casabians.

“Deirdre probably told you about Mandy, Mallory, and Mia, Chief McGinnis,” I said. “We suspect foul play. You see, one day when I went to their house, there was carbon—”

“I’d like to ask a few questions first, Nancy,” Chief McGinnis cut in.

“Sure,” I said, surprised at the interruption.

“Shoot,” George said, then quickly added, “I mean—ask away.”

The chief looked down at his notes and said, “Is it true you told Ned Nickerson that if you never saw the Casabian sisters again, it would be fine with you?”

Silence.

Why was the chief asking us that?

“You mean . . . when Ned was interviewing us for the
Bugle
,” I said slowly.

“I said that to Ned,” George said. “I was only kidding.”

“How did Deirdre know about that?” I asked.

“Ned told Deirdre, apparently,” Chief McGinnis said. “He thought it was funny, but Deirdre did not.”

While the chief was focused on his notes, I caught my friends’ eyes. What was going on?

“Nancy,” Chief McGinnis said, looking up. “You saw your boyfriend Ned kayaking with Mia Casabian a few days ago. How did that make you feel?”

Now I was really confused. Shouldn’t the chief be asking questions about the sisters? Or about any suspicious characters we might have seen? But I wasn’t about to argue with the chief of police.

“I was upset,” I said, still confused. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Chief McGinnis looked from me to Bess to George.

“Isn’t it also true that a certain Camp Athena scheduled you girls to speak, but then you were replaced with the Casabian sisters?” he continued.

“What does that have to do with—” George started to say before Bess spoke up.

“That’s right,” Bess said. “Amy decided to ask the sisters instead of us.”

“How did
that
make you feel?” Chief McGinnis asked. “Angry? Jealous?”

Okay. Now I thought I knew what this was all about.

“Excuse, me, Chief McGinnis,” I said. “Are you implying we have something to do with the Casabian sisters’ disappearance?”

“I’m only following through on some concerns Ms. Shannon had,” Chief McGinnis said, nodding down at his notes.

“Don’t tell me we’re suspects!” Bess exclaimed.

“I prefer to use the term ‘persons of interest’ right now,” Chief McGinnis said.

“Oh, man.” George groaned under her breath.

I was too stunned to speak. I’d always known that Chief McGinnis didn’t like me and my friends to take on the same cases he was working on—but to believe Deirdre over us?
Unreal!

“We had nothing to do with the disappearance of the Casabian sisters,” I blurted. “Nevertheless, we refuse to answer any more questions without the presence of my dad—I mean, our lawyer.”

“I’m only doing my job, girls,” Chief McGinnis said, shutting his writing pad. “That’s enough for today.”

For today? Did the chief mean there was more questioning to come? The thought made me sick.

“You didn’t tell him about your brakes, Nancy,” Bess said on our way out of the police station. “Or the strange guy in your driveway.”

“Why bother?” I scoffed. “Thanks to Deirdre, Chief McGinnis isn’t exactly on our side.”

“Oh, but he’s just doing his job,” George said sarcastically. “Give me a break.”

“Well, it’s time we did
our
job,” I said. “We have to find out what happened to Mandy, Mallory, and Mia—to save them and
ourselves
.”

“Y
ou were right not to answer any more questions without a lawyer present,” Dad said.

I nodded, not feeling much better. It was only a few hours after our “interrogation.” Bess, George, and I sat in my living room while Dad advised us on what to do next.

It was handy having a lawyer for a dad, but I still wished we didn’t need one.

“What do you think will happen, Mr. Drew? How serious is this?” Bess asked, wringing the fringe on a sofa pillow nervously.

Dad said calmly, “I don’t think Deirdre’s word is enough to get you into trouble, but I will defend you should this go any further.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said.

“I can’t believe this is happening, Mr. Drew,” George said. “We bust crimes, we don’t commit them.”

“Of course,” Dad said. “To be on the safe side, I wouldn’t get involved with looking for the Casabian sisters right now.”

I stared at my dad. He hardly ever discouraged us from working on any cases.

“Why, Dad?” I asked.

“You don’t want to get on Chief McGinnis’s bad side, that’s why,” Dad said as he stood up from his chair. “Especially now.”

We kept our mouths shut until Dad left the room.

“What are we going to do?” George asked.

“We’re not stopping work on this case,” I said.

“You heard what your dad said, Nancy,” Bess said. “We can’t get on the chief’s bad side—especially since we’re suspects!”

“You mean ‘persons of interest,’” I said with a smirk. “We’re already on his bad side, so what have we got to lose?”

“Um . . . our freedom?” George said.

I shook my head and said, “We’ll be extra careful not to cross paths with the chief or any of the police officers.”

“Where do we start?” Bess asked.

“I’d like to investigate Safer’s Cheese Shop for clues,” I said. “I just can’t get his white jacket off my mind or how upset he was about his play.”

“Yeah, but it’s after seven o’clock on a Saturday night,” George said. “If the store’s closed, how will we get inside?”

I leaned toward Bess and George and whispered. “I still have the keys Mr. Safer gave me when I worked there. He fired me so suddenly, I forgot to give them back.”

George cocked her head as she studied me.

“What?” I asked.

“The way you said ‘fired,’” George said. “By any chance, are you angry at Mr. Safer because he replaced you with Mandy?”

“Omigosh, George, now you sound like Chief McGinnis!” I said. “I’m not bitter, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Just a thought,” she said.

Charlie Adams had returned my car an hour ago. Mr. Marvin had been able to replace the tubing and get the brakes to work like new—although I was relieved when we made it safely to Main Street.

“I didn’t tell my dad about the cut brakes,” I admitted as we got out of the car. “He’s got enough to worry about.”

“What about your dad, Bess?” George asked. “Do you think he made the connection between the missing wire cutters and Nancy’s cut brakes?”

“Probably not,” Bess said. “He’s a great mechanic—but a detective he’s not.”

I expected the door to Safer’s to be locked, and it was. As I fumbled through my pocket for the keys, Bess whispered, “I know this sounds crazy, but I feel like someone is watching us.”

“Whoever it is,” I said, turning the key in the lock, “I hope it’s not Chief McGinnis.”

The door swung open.

It was still somewhat light out, so we didn’t need to turn on the store’s lights and draw attention to ourselves

“What are we looking for?” George asked. “Clues or the Casabians?”

“Both,” I said.

Bess pointed to the empty glass case. “Where’s all the cheese?”

“Mr. Safer stores it in that fridge at the end of the day,” I said, pointing to a large stainless-steel door in the back of the shop. On the wall next to it was the thermostat.

“Does he freeze it?” Bess asked.

“He can if he sets the thermostat low enough,” I said. “But it’s usually set at refrigerator temps.”

“That’s a lot bigger than your typical fridge,” Bess said. “I’ll bet all three of us could fit inside easily.”

“What does a walk-in fridge have to do with the missing sisters?” George asked.

Plenty!
I thought as it suddenly clicked.

“You guys,” I said. “If the fridge could fit three of us, it could fit the three of them.”

As we hurried to rear of the store, George pointed to the floor. “Look!” she said.

I glanced down and gulped. Leading straight to the refrigerator door were footprints.
Bloody
footprints!

We walked around the footprints and approached the door. But suddenly Bess said, “Wait!”

“What?” I hissed.

“What if Mandy, Mallory, and Mia are . . . ,” Bess started to say. “You know . . . what if they’re . . . ?”

“Dead?” George said.

“Don’t say it!” I said, not wanting to imagine the worst. I grabbed the handle, gave it a turn, and opened the heavy door.

George took a package of something off the shelf to prop open the door and give us some light.

We walked in slowly, where it was cold
and
pretty dark. Mr. Safer had been meaning to change the lightbulb but never had.

“Anybody in here?” George called.

“Mandy, Mallory?” I called. “Mia?”

I was able to see enough to know there was no one in the fridge but us. I was disappointed not to have found the sisters, but also relieved.

“Wait a minute, you guys,” George said, pointing to a shelf in the back of the fridge. “Isn’t that raw meat? Mr. Safer doesn’t sell meat. What’s it doing in here?”

Before we could figure it out—
SLAM!

I gasped. We were in total darkness. The heavy door had just slammed shut!

George pressed her phone, and it lit up. “I knew this flashlight app would come in handy one of these days,” she said.

“The door is locked,” Bess said, struggling with the door handle.

“The fridge doesn’t lock by itself,” I said. “Someone has to do it from outside.”

Pressing my ear to the door, I heard something—or someone—running away. I felt myself shiver—not so much from fear, but from cold.

“I hate to tell you this,” I said, my teeth starting to chatter. “Not only did someone lock us in, he or she turned down the thermostat.”

“You mean this fridge is going to be a freezer?” George said.

Desperate, we tried calling out on our phones but couldn’t get signals. We shouted and pounded on the door—until we couldn’t feel our freezing, tingling hands.

“No one’s going to hear us,” Bess said, her teeth clicking from the cold. “I bet whoever locked us in here shut the front door too.”

I was just about to wonder what would be worse, suffocating or freezing to death, when the door swung open. In the doorway was the shadow of a tall, hulking man, clutching a giant
cleaver
!