“Oh, Nancy!” Betsy said, wiping her eyes. “I just got back, and this is what I found.”
“The campus police are coming,” Maura said quickly. “I talked to the girl on duty downstairs at the desk, and she doesn’t remember any suspicious-looking strangers coming in. I’m not sure what to do.”
“Maybe you should ask the girls in the hall to go back to their rooms,” Bess suggested. “The quieter we can keep this, the better.” Maura got up and went into the hall.
Betsy looked at Bess for a moment. “Who are you?”
“This is Bess Marvin,” Nancy explained in a low voice. “She came with me.”
“I thought you were alone,” Betsy said.
“Bess and I split up so people wouldn’t connect us. That way we can cover more ground,” Nancy said. “Bess, you’d better go to your job. Doesn’t it start soon?”
“Oh, gosh, yes!” Bess checked her watch. “I’m going to meet this guy in the cafeteria afterward. Don’t worry,” she said, seeing that Nancy was about to protest. “If you don’t see me by five, call out the National Guard.”
Bess left just as two campus police officers arrived. One checked the door while the other questioned Betsy.
Nancy sat patiently through the questions, only half listening to the answers. No, Betsy said, she didn’t know who broke into the room. No, she didn’t have any enemies. As far as she could tell, nothing was missing.
Nancy watched as one of the officers checked around the room.
“Excuse me,” she said to him. “I noticed you were checking the door. Is the lock broken?”
The officer shook his head. “Looks fine to me. I assumed the door was open.”
“No, I locked it,” Betsy said.
Nancy’s ears perked up at that. The door had been locked, but of course someone could have picked the lock. The other possibility was that whoever had broken in had a key—which meant the intruder probably had Ava!
“Well, we can have someone change the lock, if you’d like,” the officer said.
“Thank you,” Betsy agreed. “I’d feel safer.”
After the men left, Nancy picked up Ava’s things and put them away according to Betsy’s directions. The two girls went through the mess on Ava’s desk together, but Betsy could find nothing missing.
“Did Ava have any hiding places?” Nancy asked in frustration. “The burglar must have come looking for something.”
“I’m thinking,” Betsy murmured. “Her address book is here; she didn’t keep a diary; there wasn’t anything hidden in any of her books. . . . Wait a second,” she said thoughtfully. “Ava’s textbooks aren’t here.”
“Why would she take textbooks on a date?” Nancy asked.
“She wouldn’t. She keeps them in a backpack.”
“It wasn’t in the car,” Nancy said.
“She’s got a locker in the gym,” Betsy said. “She’s not a real athlete, but she plays tennis in the spring and summer. We could try there.”
“Great,” Nancy said. “Do you know which locker is hers?”
“Number forty-five,” Betsy said. “Vince Paratti’s hockey number.”
“What about the lock?”
“It’s a combo lock. I don’t know the combination.”
“I can’t pick a combination lock,” Nancy said. “Would she have the number written down anywhere?”
“I doubt it. Ava has a terrific memory. Wait,” Betsy said excitedly. “I bet Vince knows the number.”
Betsy quickly got Vince on the telephone. He told her he had the number in the gym, and he’d meet them there in a few minutes.
When Nancy and Betsy got to the gym, they found Vince in front of Ava’s locker.
“Vince,” Betsy said warmly. “It’s been a while. You’ve been avoiding me.”
Vince blushed. “No, I haven’t,” he protested. “I just never see you around.”
“I always thought you and Ava would get back together,” Betsy continued, ignoring Vince’s discomfort. “I guess I underestimated how headstrong you two are.”
“Betsy, all that is history,” he replied. “Let me open this locker in peace.”
Betsy turned to Nancy. “They were together for a year,” she explained. “I don’t even remember what they fought about, but I do know it was something stupid.”
“It wasn’t stupid!” Vince protested.
“Then what was it?” Betsy challenged.
“I don’t remember,” he muttered. “There, the locker’s open. Now stop bothering me.”
“Vince, she’s missing,” Betsy said softly. “When she comes back, don’t you think you and Ava should try to forgive each other for whatever it was you can’t remember?”
Nancy saw a gleam in Vince’s eyes. “If you need anything more, call me,” he said gruffly. “I’ve got to get back to the dorm.”
Nancy watched him go. “You were pretty hard on him,” she commented. “Have you always been a matchmaker?”
Betsy smiled and nodded. “My matches usually work,” she said. “Now let’s see what we have here.”
The backpack was in the bottom of the locker. Nancy and Betsy sat on a bench and went through it carefully.
Ava’s astronomy textbook was in the pack, which proved she’d used it recently. In the front pocket, Nancy found a comb, some change, a pencil, two pens, a key to a safe-deposit box, and a slip of paper. On it was an address Betsy didn’t recognize: 555 Pussy Willow Drive.
“It’s in town,” Betsy offered. “You could check it out. It could be anybody’s, though, including one of her clients’.”
“I’ll check with Bess when she comes back,” Nancy told her. “I’d like to keep the address, if you don’t mind. And the key.”
“How do you know it’s for a safe-deposit box?” Betsy asked.
“Take a closer look,” Nancy said, handing it to Betsy. “Most keys have grooves in their sides, but this one is completely flat.”
Betsy flipped it over in her hands. “It doesn’t say which bank it’s from,” she commented.
“Exactly,” Nancy said. “That way, the valuables in the box are safer.”
When Nancy and Betsy got back to the dorm Bess was in the lobby talking to a young man wearing horn-rimmed glasses. She motioned the two girls over with one hand, a smug expression on her face.
“This is my date, Jim Wilhelm,” Bess said proudly. “He just moved off campus about a week ago.”
Nancy wondered if the dean hadn’t yet found out about Wilhelm’s change of address. That could be why Ava’s mystery date had been so hard to track down.
“Tell Nancy what you told me, Jim,” Bess prompted.
Jim looked uncomfortable. “I don’t get it, Bess,” he said unhappily. “I never even saw her.”
Bess glared at him.
“Okay, okay.” He turned to Nancy and Betsy. “I had a date with Ava Woods last Friday night.”
“Had is the key word,” Bess said eagerly. “Luke Jefferies called at the last minute to cancel the date!”
“Luke canceled it?” Nancy asked.
Jim nodded. “He said Ava couldn’t come. So I went to the dance instead.”
“Then you didn’t see her that night?”
Jim shook his head. “Never even met her.”
But, Nancy thought, Ava had gone out with someone that night. Luke had switched the dates, and neither Ava nor Jim had been aware of it.
Nancy reviewed the clues carefully. Luke was dead, and the Campus Connections office had been ruined. That told Nancy that Luke wasn’t the only person involved in Ava’s disappearance. Maybe he had fought with his accomplice. Or Luke could have threatened to expose whatever crime he was mixed up in, and his accomplices could have killed him to keep him quiet. But who was the mastermind—and what was the scam?
After Jim had left, the three girls continued to work on the puzzle.
“Could this be the ‘switch’ the woman caller was talking about?” Betsy asked.
“I suppose,�
� Nancy said. “But that would mean that Ava was aware of the switched dates. The ‘switch’ in the telephone call sounded as if Ava had switched something herself.
“Jim’s date was canceled so that someone else could meet Ava that night,” Nancy continued, ticking off her thoughts on her fingers. “So the mystery date must have known her or known of her.”
“And Ava obviously wasn’t willing to see him,” Bess joined in. “So he had to trick her into a meeting.”
Nancy nodded. “Maybe Luke was just a pawn.”
“A dead pawn,” Betsy agreed, wincing.
“But why did he go along with it?” Nancy asked. “If only I could talk to him.”
She jumped up. “The Campus Connections office is ruined,” she said, “and the police have sealed it off. But maybe we can find something in Luke’s room.”
“But you’re a girl,” Betsy objected, pointing out the obvious. “It’s a boys’ dorm. How are you going to get in?”
“I’ll sneak in,” Nancy said cheerfully. “It’s late. There can’t be too many people roaming around. But I will need help.”
“Maybe Darien could help,” Bess suggested, looking to Betsy for her reaction. “He does want to be an investigative reporter, right?”
“He’d love to,” Betsy agreed immediately. “It would give him a chance to redeem himself.”
“Great,” Nancy said. “If we can’t get in the front, there has to be a back door.”
The girls checked the student directory and found out that Luke had lived in Shafer Hall. Betsy called Darien, who promised to meet Nancy in front of Shafer in ten minutes.
Nancy threw on some baggy jeans and a leather jacket and hid her hair under one of Betsy’s hats. When she arrived at the dorm, she found that Darien had already gone to work. “Luke lived on the second floor,” he said. “But we can’t hang around outside his room too long. There’s a police warning on the door, and I’m sure everyone knows which room is his.”
“The locks are easy to pick with a credit card,” Nancy said, flashing one. “Is there someone on duty in the lobby?”
“Yes, but there’s a back entrance that leads directly into the stairwell on the other side of the building. I’ll go in the front door and let you in the back way.”
Darien disappeared into the dorm, and Nancy walked around to the back. After a few minutes he appeared and unlocked the back door. Nancy stepped in, thinking how simple it was to get inside.
As they crept toward the second floor, Darien said in a low voice, “Luke’s room is on the other side of the dorm, so keep your head down.”
When they got to the landing, Darien peeked down the hall. “All clear,” he reported. “Let me go first and pop the lock. That way you won’t be standing in the hall.”
Nancy watched him go. He opened the door easily and motioned for Nancy to join him.
Nancy headed down the hall quickly and slipped into Luke’s room unseen. She looked around her and shivered. Nothing had been disturbed. A pair of jeans and a sweatshirt were draped over one chair, and his books were scattered around.
Nancy searched Luke’s desk and left the rest of the room to Darien. It took about an hour for them to go through everything. At last they had to admit defeat.
“If there was a clue,” Darien said, plopping down on a trunk next to the bed, “the police must have removed it.”
“Or it’s hidden very well,” Nancy added.
“What about his gym locker?” Darien wondered.
“What about his mailbox?” Nancy asked, her eyes growing wide.
Darien jumped up. “Ingenious!” he agreed promptly. “It’s worth a try. The mailboxes are in the basement.”
“Let’s go,” Nancy said. “We’ve made it this far.”
They listened for sounds in the hall. Hearing only silence, they sneaked out quietly.
To get to the mailboxes, Nancy and Darien had to take the main stairs. Their luck held, and no one saw them slipping down to the basement. Nancy saw the layout was a lot like that of Hartley Hall. The lounge and the kitchen were at the front of the building, and a narrow hallway led to rooms in the back. Mailboxes lined one side of the lounge.
“How do you pick a mailbox lock?” Darien asked.
“It would be easier to pick the lock on the door,” Nancy said, gesturing to the little mail room. She pulled out her lockpick. The lock gave easily under her skilled hands.
Inside, Nancy ran her finger over the list of names and pulled the mail from Luke’s box. Not even looking to see what was there, she slipped all of his mail inside her leather jacket and joined Darien outside.
They were halfway up the stairs when they heard a voice.
“Hey!” a voice called jokingly. “Girls aren’t allowed in this dorm.”
“Aw, give us a break,” Darien said to the student who had called out. He threw his arm around Nancy and pulled her close. “She was upset, and we really needed a quiet place to talk. But now she feels better, don’t you?” he asked, a wicked grin on his face. Quickly he bent and planted a kiss right on Nancy’s lips.
“Darien,” she warned in a low voice.
“Come on, Nancy,” he whispered in her ear, “we’re just acting here.” Aloud, he said, “See? She’s much better.”
The guy who called out gave them a conspiratorial smile. “Well, I’m not the head resident, so I don’t care,” he said. “But you’d better get her out of here fast.”
Darien smiled, and he and Nancy ran up the stairs and out the door. They sat on the front steps of Shafer to catch their breath.
“ ‘She was upset’?” Nancy mimicked, raising an eyebrow. “ ‘We really needed a quiet place to talk’? Please!”
“I got us out, didn’t I?” he pointed out, grinning. “What’s a little lie here and there?”
“You were enjoying yourself a little too much,” Nancy said.
“Sorry!” Darien pouted. “No girl has ever complained about my kisses before.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” Nancy laughed and pulled four envelopes out of her jacket. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” Sifting through them, she said, “Something from Sears, an offer from a credit card company, a flier for the dance, something from the bursar’s office . . .” Nancy opened the last one. “It’s a bank statement.”
Darien nodded. “There’s a student bank on campus,” he said. “It’s not much, kind of a glorified cash office. But it’s hard to get to a bank in town if you don’t have a car, so they let us cash checks and make deposits and stuff.”
Nancy glanced over Luke’s account. Her heart leapt. “Well,” she said, “here’s something interesting.”
Darien peered over her shoulder. “What?”
“It’s a deposit for five hundred dollars,” Nancy said.
Darien whistled. “That’s quite a chunk for a college student.”
Nancy turned to him, her eyes shining. “Not only that, look at the date. It was deposited on Friday morning—the day Ava disappeared!”
Chapter
Eleven
DO YOU THINK someone paid Luke to get a date with Ava?” Darien asked excitedly.
“It’s very possible,” Nancy said. Quickly, she filled Darien in on the switched dates. “Five hundred dollars is a lot for a date. That narrows down our suspects quite a bit.”
“Do you think someone is planning to hold her for ransom?” Darien asked.
“The Woodses don’t have that kind of money,” Nancy said. “It’s always possible that the money doesn’t have anything to do with Ava. Maybe Luke just held on to a bunch of payments and then deposited them all at once.”
“I wouldn’t keep that much cash lying around, would you?” Darien said. “Especially since the student bank is open every day.”
“I agree with you,” Nancy said. “If we’re right, then it looks as if Ava was kidnapped.”
• • •
The next morning, Nancy called Dean Selig.
“Nancy,” the de
an said heartily when he heard her voice, “what can I do for you? I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you the last time you called, but—”
“You’ve been busy, I know,” Nancy supplied.
“Actually, I thought you had dropped the case,” the dean said. “This thing with poor Luke Jefferies was so awful, I must say I assumed you’d turned the whole thing over to the police.”
“Well, sort of,” Nancy said, “but I am still trying to get some information about Luke. In fact, that’s why I called.”
“Oh. What kind of information?” the dean asked, worry creeping into his voice.
“I need to know about a payment Luke received, and I’m hoping the student bank can help me,” Nancy replied. “Instead of having the police come to do an official investigation—you know how disruptive that can be.”
Nancy could almost hear the dean nodding on the other end of the telephone line. “I’ll call the bursar and tell him you’re coming to see him. You’ll need access to Luke Jefferies’s records, right? Do you have to go back very far?”
“Not far at all,” she promised. “I’ll be out of there in no time.”
Nancy grabbed her notebook and headed down to the bursar’s office. When she walked in, a jolly man with glasses greeted her. A bald spot gleamed on top of his head.
“I’m Tom Carroll,” he said, ushering Nancy into his office. As he closed his door, he looked around nervously to see if anyone took unusual interest in her. “Dean Selig asked me to show you Luke Jefferies’s account,” he said in a low voice. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“I want to see the recent activity,” Nancy said with a small smile, “but I don’t need to go back more than a few months. Luke deposited a large sum in the student bank last week, and I thought you might have a record of it.”
“Anything recent would be on the computer,” the bursar said, walking over to his work station. He typed in Luke Jefferies’s name. “How large was the deposit?”
“Five hundred dollars,” Nancy said. “Deposited last Friday, I believe.”
“Here it is,” the bursar said. “It was a cash deposit, not a check.”
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