Danger on Parade

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy let out a breath of frustration. “I just wish there was a way to prove that someone has been setting her up. Someone had to have come to the parade studio right before up last night, she said. “If there was only a way to keep track of everyone who comes and goes . . .”

  Suddenly Jill blinked and straightened up. “Wait a minute—maybe there is a way!” she said excitedly. “All the locks are hooked into a main computer bank back at the store. The ID numbers are screened whenever someone uses a card to enter one of the restricted areas. It’s a long shot, but maybe we can get some kind of computer record of who’s been here during the last few days.”

  Nancy’s heart pounded with excitement as Jill reached for her phone and punched in a number. “Then we could see who was in the warehouse at the time of the different incidents,” Nancy said, thinking out loud. “There hasn’t been any sign of forced entry, except for the break-in at the cosmetics lab. And we know that was Louis Clark. Chances are, the other attacks were made by a Mitchell’s employee.”

  Jill nodded. “The list wouldn’t include people like you and Bess, who enter the building with someone else, but it might provide some clue— Oh, hello, Richard. Jill here,” she said into the receiver. She spoke briefly to the head of security at Mitchell’s, then hung up and turned back to Nancy.

  “They can’t isolate one area, but they can send over a printout of everyone who’s entered all restricted areas of the store, as well as the outside doors of the warehouses during the past week,” Jill explained. “We’ll have to go through and highlight the warehouse entries.”

  “Great!” Nancy said excitedly.

  • • •

  An hour and a half later, Jill’s desk at the warehouse was covered with printouts that the head of Mitchell’s security had sent over. Jill, Nancy, and Bess were all bent over the desk, each examining a different section of the printout.

  “What’s the code for the parade studio warehouse again—zero-one—five?” Bess asked, scanning the columns of numbers and names on her printout.

  “That’s right,” Jill confirmed, without looking up from her own list.

  At first Jill had resisted Nancy’s suggestion that Bess help them, but when she saw the thick pile of printouts that arrived from the store, Jill had relented. Nancy was relieved that Jill was finally warming up toward Bess—even if it was only a little.

  Since Nancy and Bess weren’t familiar with the names of employees, they asked Jill every time they came to an entry for the warehouse. So far, all of the people listed were regulars who worked at the warehouse.

  “Who’s Heath Nealon?” Bess asked.

  Nancy shrugged. “Hey, here he is on my sheet, too. According to this, Heath Nealon was here last night, just before eleven o’clock.”

  “Hey, that’s right before we came,” Bess added. “I bet he’s the guy who slashed the balloons and knocked out the guard!” She pointed down at her printout. “He was here on Monday morning, too—the day of the explosion.”

  Jill glanced up from her printout, a puzzled look on her face. “I’ve never even heard of Heath Nealon,” she said. “And I know the names of everyone working on this parade. Let me call personnel and ask if they have any record of him.”

  When she hung up the phone a few moments later, she was frowning. “Heath Nealon is a stockboy at the store,” Jill explained to Nancy and Bess. “I don’t know why he’d be at the warehouse. He has nothing to do with the parade.”

  “Can you call him to find out?” Bess suggested.

  Once again, Jill picked up the phone on her desk. First she called Heath Nealon, and then she spoke with his supervisor. Nancy couldn’t tell much from Jill’s side of the conversation. She and Bess waited anxiously until Jill finished.

  “So?” Nancy asked, leaning forward.

  “Heath Nealon said he’s never been to the parade studio,” Jill began.

  “But my printout says he was here Monday morning,” Bess protested. “Besides, his supervisor can’t know what Heath does at night, after work is over.”

  Jill held up a hand. “Actually, Heath told me something very interesting.” She paused, giving Nancy and Bess a meaningful look. “A few days ago, his ID card was stolen!”

  Chapter

  Eleven

  NANCY AND BESS exchanged looks of shock.

  “Are you sure he didn’t lose it?” Bess asked.

  Jill nodded. “He told me he always keeps it in the same place, in the pocket of his jacket, which he hangs on a hook in the stockroom. When he got to the store on Monday morning, he reached into his pocket for his card, and it was gone.”

  “Why didn’t he report that it was missing?” Nancy wanted to know.

  “I asked him the same thing,” Jill told the girls. “He said he thought he’d get into trouble. Apparently a friend of his in the stockroom has been letting him in every morning.”

  Nancy’s mind was racing. “So whoever stole his ID card is the real culprit,” she said.

  “But how can we find out who that is?” Bess asked. “We only have until tomorrow morning to find out. What if the person does something terrible and tries to pin it on me again?”

  “I think you’re in the clear now,” Nancy said. “You’ve never even been in the stockrooms or met Heath Nealon, so there’s no way you could know where to get his ID card.”

  Seeing that Jill’s expression was still guarded, Nancy added, “It’s possible that Howard Langley has an employee doing his dirty work for him. That person could have stolen Heath Nealon’s ID card.”

  Jill sighed, then smiled at Bess. “And I supposed we still can’t be sure Louis Clark isn’t a saboteur as well as a thief,” she added.

  “I just can’t wait until everyone believes I’m innocent,” Bess said.

  “Well, the good news is that everything’s on schedule,” Jill said, changing the subject. “The repairs to the balloons are almost finished, and all the floats and balloons are being transported to the Museum of Natural History. Neil is making sure all the guests, bands, and other groups are checked in at the parade site by six in the morning.”

  Bess’s expression brightened as she said, “It must really be something to see the balloons and floats being readied at the museum tonight.”

  Jill nodded. “It’s a major preparade event. Tons of tourists and people from the neighborhood come to watch.”

  Nancy looked up to see Neil Steem walk into Jill’s office. Greg Willow and a woman with curly red hair and a camera around her neck were with him.

  “Hi!” Neil said brightly. “We came out to get a couple of publicity shots of Greg on the lead float.”

  Bess was fidgeting with the hem of her striped sweater. After all that had happened, she was obviously uncomfortable being in the same room as Greg. Greg looked a little nervous himself. He glanced at Bess out of the corner of his eye from time to time, but he wouldn’t look at her directly.

  “Um, excuse me. I think I’ll go help out with the balloons.” Bess stood up abruptly and hurried from the office.

  Jill stared after her, then turned to Nancy. “I know you think I’ve been hard on Bess, but I think it would be a good idea if she stays away from all the parade sites from now on,” Jill said. “That way no one can suspect her of anything else that might happen.”

  “I agree,” Neil said. “There have been too many coincidences to take any chances.”

  Nancy sat in silence. How was she supposed to tell her best friend that she wasn’t wanted? Jill and Neil were putting her in an awkward position.

  “I’ll take her out tonight,” Greg volunteered.

  Nancy looked at the actor in surprise. Was this the same guy who had told Bess he couldn’t see her anymore? Why was he suddenly changing his mind?

  Greg must have seen the confusion on her face. He stepped forward and said, “Nancy, I really like Bess. It’s just that I have an image to keep up. Sometimes it’s hard to follow your heart when everyone else is telling you it’s a bad idea.�
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  Greg glanced at Jill and Neil. “I just can’t believe Bess would do any of the things she’s being blamed for,” he went on. “This is probably the last night I can see her here, and I want us to leave as friends. So I’m not going to listen to anyone but myself tonight.”

  “Bess will be really glad to hear that,” Nancy said, smiling warmly at Greg. Whatever else happened, Bess would know that he believed in her, and Nancy knew how much that meant to her friend.

  Neil and Jill exchanged a long look. Finally, Neil said, “If you really feel that way, I have passes to the Dot Matrix dance club tonight. Just stop by my apartment on your way. It’s eighty-eight East Eighty-eighth Street, number eight D.”

  “No need to write that down,” Greg said with a laugh. “I’ll just go to the building with all the eights on it.” Turning to Nancy, he asked, “Do you want to come with us tonight?”

  “No, thanks,” she said. “I’m going to keep an eye on the final preparations at the museum. I figure it’s the last chance anyone has to ruin the parade, so I want to be there. Maybe this time, we’ll catch this criminal in the act.”

  • • •

  “I really need a break.” Jill’s assistant Dan wiped his brow and joined Nancy on a bench in one of the huge rooms in the Museum of Natural History.

  “I know what you mean,” Nancy agreed, looking up from the thick computer printout that Jill had gotten from Mitchell’s security. She had brought as much of the printout as she could carry in her shoulder bag and had taken a break from the preparations to study it. “This place has been a madhouse for hours. There’s so much going on, both inside and outside, it’s hard to believe that it’s three in the morning.”

  Nancy had arrived at the museum around six, after spending the afternoon helping Bess shop for an outfit to wear on her date with Greg. For several hours the huge space had been filled with curious spectators and camera crews who had entered through large metal doors that opened to the outdoors. Jill had explained that these rooms were usually used to work on the skeletons of large dinosaurs that were part of the museum’s collection. Now they were filled with people doing last-minute work on balloons and floats for the Mitchell’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

  So far, Nancy had seen over twenty-five floats and nine large helium balloons. Some were outdoors on West Eighty-first Street and others were inside the museum. Bonnie, Dan, Jill, Neil, and the other workers were busy putting finishing touches on some floats and checking to see that the balloons were filling evenly with helium. Thick ropes attached the balloons to heavy sandbags so they wouldn’t float away. Even Mr. Langley was there, looking on from the sidelines.

  “Your dad is the only one around here who doesn’t seem excited about tomorrow’s parade,” Nancy had commented to Jules, who was also helping out.

  “I didn’t find anything in his study at home that links him to the sabotage,” Jules told her. Letting out a sigh, he added, “I never thought I’d ask a detective to keep an eye on my own father, but I think that’s what you’d better do.”

  Nancy had wandered through the cavernous rooms and gone out to Eighty-first Street, carefully watching everything, but so far she hadn’t seen any foul play. Now it was so late that most of the camera crews and tourists had left. Nancy didn’t see Jill or Mr. Langley around, either. The security guards and about twenty employees were still hard at work, though.

  “So what happens next?” Nancy asked Dan.

  “Well, things will be sort of quiet until around five A.M.—that’s when the organizers and volunteers are due to show up. The parade guests, bands, and all the other participants should begin to get here soon after,” Dan explained.

  Glancing around, Nancy said, “I haven’t seen Jill recently. Do you know where she is?”

  “She’s back in her office at the store, supervising the staff,” Dan told her. “They’re getting the costumes ready to be trucked up here.” He stood up and added, “Actually, I should head over there now to help out.”

  “See you,” Nancy said. After he left, she looked around. For the first time she realized she was alone in the room. Workers were either outside or working on the floats in the adjoining room. The lighting seemed dimmer than before, and the balloons cast eerie shadows on the walls.

  After stuffing the printout back in her bag, Nancy got up and glanced around the huge room. There were so many places for the saboteur to hide that there was no way she could keep an eye on all of them.

  Nancy jumped as she heard a sound close behind her. She quickly spun around—then let out a breath of relief.

  “Oh, Jules, it’s you,” she said, with a weak smile. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I just came over to find out if you’ve seen anything suspicious.”

  Nancy shook her head. “Not yet,” she replied. She paused and looked up at the enormous cat balloon that had been damaged in the explosion at the parade studio. The missing paw had been repaired, and the seam was only barely visible.

  “Despite all the attacks, it looks as though the parade will go off smoothly,” Nancy said. “I’m glad that—”

  Nancy broke off as a sharp tearing noise caught her attention. Looking down, she saw that one of the ropes supporting the balloon had snapped.

  “Jules, the rope!” she cried, pointing. She gasped when she saw the other rope. It had begun to unravel as well. In another moment, it would snap, and the balloon would float up out of reach!

  “Try to hold it,” Jules said urgently. “I’ll get help.” He took off toward the next room.

  Nancy bent and reached for the rope that hadn’t broken yet. Grabbing it above the tear, she pulled down.

  As she looked down to examine the rope more closely, her eyes widened. The rope looked as if it had been cleanly cut halfway through.

  “Someone deliberately cut it!” she said softly.

  Nancy was about to yell for Jules when she was suddenly hit on the back of the head. The last thing she was aware of was a sweet scent drifting past her nostrils as the rope began to slip from her fingers.

  Then there was blackness.

  Chapter

  Twelve

  NANCY SLOWLY OPENED her eyes, wishing she could make the dull, throbbing pain in her head go away.

  Everything was so fuzzy. It was as if a hazy fog had settled around her. She had trouble focusing on anything.

  “Nancy, can you hear me?”

  Nancy wasn’t sure where the voice was coming from. She blinked rapidly, hoping the fog would disappear. As things became a little clearer, she realized that Jules was bending over her. He was with two security guards.

  “Nancy, can you hear me?” Jules repeated.

  She closed her eyes to concentrate and finally managed to speak. “Yes, I hear you. I just feel a little . . .dizzy.”

  As Jules and the guard helped her to her feet, Nancy’s eyes lit on the cat balloon. Suddenly it all came rushing back to her—the cut rope and . . .

  “Someone knocked me out,” she said. “The rope. Someone . . .” Her voice trailed off as she saw that the cut ropes had been knotted together.

  “Someone cut it,” Jules finished for her. “I figured out what had happened when I came back with the guards,” he explained. “Luckily we managed to retie the broken ropes before the last one snapped.”

  Nancy turned to look at the other balloons, then stopped as the throbbing in her head grew worse.

  “Don’t worry, we already checked the other balloons,” Jules said, following her gaze. “The ropes to three other balloons were also cut, but we got to them in time.”

  Nancy started to ask another question but closed her eyes as her body began to sway. “I think I need some air,” she said in a weak voice.

  With Jules’s help, she grabbed her bag and made her way through one of the huge metal doors and sat down on a bench just outside the entrance. The cold, fresh air made her feel more clear-headed, and Nancy drew in several long breaths. It was still dark out, althou
gh the streetlights cut through the deep blackness of the night.

  “How long was I out?” Nancy asked Jules, who sat down next to her.

  “When I came back with the guards, you were lying there. I’d say about ten minutes,” he answered. He had grabbed a couple of jackets from a pile near the door, and he draped one around her shoulders. “I don’t think anyone will mind if we borrow these for a few minutes.”

  Nancy rubbed her temples and stared down at the frozen patch of ground beneath her feet. She felt so helpless. She knew that the criminal was close by, but he always seemed to be just out of her reach. It was frustrating.

  “Nancy, I hope you don’t think my dad is responsible for this attack,” Jules said, his serious face illuminated by the streetlight above.

  “I can’t know anything for sure,” she said. “He could have cut the ropes before he left. But then, who knocked me out?”

  They stopped talking as the Channel Seven news van pulled up next to the curb. A moment later, Aileen Nash hopped out with her camera crew.

  “Hi!” Aileen said, her voice bright and cheery. She was wearing a beige suit with a silk blouse that had a fall-colored leaf print on it. “We need to get some early morning shots of everyone getting ready for the parade to show at the start of the telecast. Any great suggestions?”

  Nancy looked at her blankly. “Sorry, but I guess getting knocked out has left me too muddled to come up with any creative camera shots,” she said.

  “What!” Aileen listened as Nancy and Jules told her about the latest attack on the parade. “Don’t worry,” Aileen assured them when they were done. “I won’t air anything without Jill’s say-so. I just hope you find the culprit before something else happens.” With that, she headed into the museum with her camera crew.

  “I’d better get back inside, too,” Jules told her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just need a little more fresh air,” Nancy assured him. After he left, she pulled the jacket more tightly around her. It wasn’t so much the cold that was getting to her—it was the eerie feeling she had in her bones.