by Lois Duncan
Lynn stared at her in bewilderment. The note had read, “I must see Dirk as soon as possible. Where can I find him?” What was there in that to shake your head about?
She motioned to Anne to write a return note, but again Anne shook her head and made a slight gesture toward the clock. Lynn followed her gaze and saw that there were only ten minutes left before the class would be over. There was hardly sense in exchanging notes again now; the risk was not worth it.
The ten minutes seemed to drag on endlessly. When the bell finally rang, however, it was Anne who slipped quickly from her seat and crossed to Lynn’s desk.
“Do you really have to see Dirk?” she asked in a low voice when she reached it. “Isn’t it anything I can say to him for you?”
“You mean he’s that angry!” Lynn exclaimed in horror. “Oh, Anne!”
“I’ve never seen him so upset about anything,” Anne said quietly. “I was sitting in the living room the day he phoned you, so I couldn’t help but hear part of it. I don’t know exactly what it was you told him, or why, but when he hung up that telephone, he looked as though someone had kicked him. What was it all about?”
“I told him I wasn’t going to date him,” Lynn said, hating to see the hurt in Anne’s eyes. “It’s not that I don’t like him, Anne, and last time he was awfully sweet to me. It’s just that he was getting too serious. And I could never care about him the way he seemed to be getting to care about me. It seemed better to break off completely than to drag it on and have him care more.”
Anne digested this, then nodded slowly in agreement “Yes, you’re right if that’s the way it was. But do you have to go talk to him now? He’s so hurt and angry, it couldn’t do anything but make it worse.”
Lynn considered briefly handing the necklace to Anne and asking her to give it to Dirk, but her conscience would not let her do that. After all, she thought, he gave it to me himself, and Anne knows nothing about it. Probably he doesn’t want her to know anything about it either—especially now.
She shook her head. “I do have to see him. There’s no getting around that. It will just take a minute, but I do have to see him myself.”
“All right,” Anne said. “If you have to.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “You probably just have time to catch him, if you hurry. Brad Morgan called as we were leaving for school this morning. He said there’s something wrong with his car and he wants Dirk to look at it. He said he’d stop and pick him up at lunch hour. I kind of got the impression Dirk was going to cut classes the rest of the day and not come back to school at all.”
Lynn said, “Then he’d be in the parking lot?”
“I suppose so,” Anne said, “unless they’ve left already.” Which was how Lynn came to be running across the parking lot at just the moment to hear Brenda Peterson, her voice shaking with fury, cry, “It’s gone! The whole five hundred dollars—it’s gone! Those terrible boys have taken it!”
12
“What do you mean, we’ve taken it?” Lynn heard Dirk’s voice before she actually saw him. “What five hundred dollars? What the dickens are you talking about, anyway?”
“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” Brenda returned angrily. “The more than five hundred dollars that was in my wallet, right here in the front seat of my mother’s car. Now the door’s open and the wallet’s gone!”
Hurrying around the side of the Peterson car, Lynn came face to face with the three of them—Brenda, her usually pale face flushed with anger, Dirk and Brad Morgan. Dirk, standing with his hands in his pockets, was the picture of outrage. Brad merely looked amused.
“Well, hi, there!” he said lightly as Lynn came into view. “This little friend of yours seems to be blowing her top about something. Can you make out what it’s all about?”
Lynn’s first impulse was to be amused also, for Brenda and Dirk looked so furious, standing there glaring at each other. But as soon as the meaning of the scene began to penetrate, the amusement changed to horror.
“You mean the hospital money, Brenda? The hospital money’s gone?”
“Yes, it’s gone!” Brenda turned the storm of her wrath toward Lynn. “And I know where it’s gone, too—right into their pockets. They were standing here by the car when I came up. It couldn’t have been anyone else.”
“But how,” Lynn asked in bewilderment, “could the door have been opened? I thought you said you locked it.”
“I did,” Brenda answered bitterly. “I must not have caught the latch at the wing window. It’s been forced, and when I got here, the car door was standing wide open.”
“Well, we didn’t have a thing to do with it!” Dirk said angrily. “I got here just about two seconds before you did. You’re not going to blame this thing on me!”
Their voices carried across the parking lot, and a crowd was beginning to gather. A group of girls who had started toward their car paused instead to listen to the argument. Several younger boys, who had been playing football in the schoolyard, broke into a run at the sound of possible trouble. They came panting up, eagerly throwing themselves into the conversation.
“What happened? What’s the matter? Who did what anyway?”
“These two boys,” Brenda repeated for the benefit of her new audience, “they broke into my car and took my wallet.”
“That’s a pretty strong thing to assert,” a masculine voice said firmly. “Do you have any proof to back up your accusation, young lady?”
Lynn turned in relief to see Mr. Ryan, the football coach and boys’ physical education teacher. His quiet voice cut through the turmoil, stilling the excitement as though by magic.
Brenda said, “Look in their pockets. That should be proof. You don’t find many high-school boys carrying five hundred dollars around in their pockets.”
“No,” Mr. Ryan agreed, “that’s true enough. All right boys, just to clear this thing up, let’s see what you have in your pockets.”
Brad hesitated a moment, then shrugged and pulled his pockets inside out. A jumble of articles tumbled onto the ground—a pocketknife, a package of cigarettes, some assorted coins, car keys, a packet of matches, a soiled pocket handkerchief. Mr. Ryan gave the objects a quick glance and then motioned the young man to pick them up.
“Can’t find five hundred there, by any stretch of the imagination. O.K., Masters, you’re next. Pockets out!” Mr. Ryan said.
“I will not turn my pockets out!” Dirk’s face was dark with fury. “This is the rottenest thing I’ve ever heard of! I didn’t have a thing to do with her darned car—it was standing here with the door hanging open when I came up, and she came screaming around the comer two seconds later. Nobody’s going to go rooting through my things—not unless they go to the police station and get a search warrant!”
“Don’t make us do that, Son.” There was an edge to Mr. Ryan’s voice now. “If you’re innocent, there’s no sense in making a scene about this thing. Turn out your pockets.”
Dirk’s head was thrown back, his dark eyes were blazing. “Let’s see you make me!”
Moved in spite of herself by the boy’s defiance, Lynn had an urge to walk over and stand beside him. No wonder he’s angry, she thought. I know how I’d feel if somebody told me to turn everything out of my pocketbook to prove I wasn’t a thief. I’d be so mad I’d probably throw it at them.
But at that instant, Brad Morgan spoke, his voice low and scornful.
“Oh, come on, Dirk, give them their way. There’s no sense making a big thing out of it.”
Dirk hesitated and then, with a look of disgust, emptied his pockets onto the ground.
In the silence that followed, Brenda said, “What about his gym bag? Open that, too. Maybe he has it in his gym bag.”
Dirk’s gym bag was on the ground at his feet. Now he gave it a savage kick in Brenda’s direction.
“Sure,” he said bitterly, “better examine everything. Better play safe and open it yourselves, too—I might have a gun in there and shoot all yo
ur heads off.”
Mr. Ryan said, “O.K., Son, calm down. This will just take a minute.”
He lifted the gym bag and pulled out a pair of gym shoes, some tennis shorts—and a pale pink, lady’s wallet.
“That’s it!” Brenda exclaimed. “That’s the wallet! Is the money still in it?”
Mr. Ryan was regarding the wallet with surprise. Slowly, he opened it and looked inside.
“Yes,” he said quietly, “there’s money here. A lot of money.” He ruffled through it quickly. “There’s more than five hundred dollars here. Five hundred and a little extra.”
“We made over five hundred and I had a few dollars of my own there, too.” Brenda explained, reaching for the money. “Could I have it please?”
“Yes,” Mr. Ryan said “I suppose so.” He handed the wallet to Brenda and then turned his attention to Dirk. “Well, young man, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Dirk was staring at the wallet in bewilderment. “Nothing,” he said. “That is, I don’t know anything about it. I didn’t put it in my gym bag. I never saw it before in my life.” He looked very young, and suddenly scared. “Honest, I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Now look, Masters,” Mr. Ryan said patiently, “you can’t expect anybody to believe that.”
“I believe him!” Lynn said suddenly. “Dirk didn’t take that wallet! He wouldn’t do a thing like that!”
She did not know how she knew, she just knew. The certainty in her voice swung everyone’s attention in her direction.
“How—” Mr. Ryan began.
But Brenda interrupted him. “Of course, Lynn Chambers is going to stick up for him! Lynn and Dirk have been going together all through Christmas vacation. In fact, I just mentioned to Lynn this morning that I had left the money locked in the car. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she told Dirk about it herself!”
When she thought about it afterward, during the long, wretched time afterward, it was that moment that Lynn remembered. Not the time in the principal’s office waiting for her parents and Mrs. Peterson to arrive, not the interview itself, with her mother’s pale face on one side of her and Mrs. Peterson’s outraged one on the other, but that first unbelievable moment when Brenda had faced her in front of the whole crowd of people and said, “She told Dirk about it herself!”
“Why, that’s not true!” Lynn had gasped in horror. “It’s not true at all! What a perfectly terrible thing to say!”
“Brenda!” Nancy’s voice broke into the conversation, equally horrified. “Brenda, that’s Lynn you’re talking to! How can you say such a thing?”
There was a rustle in the crowd as a slender, red-haired girl pushed her way forward until she was by her friend’s side. “Brenda’s upset, Lynn. She can’t mean it—”
“I do mean it!” Brenda said. “I did tell Lynn just this morning. You were there, Nancy—you heard me yourself—”
“All right, all right,” Mr. Ryan cut in quickly, evidently feeling he had let the scene drag on far enough. “This isn’t the time or place to go into this. There are only four people involved, and I want them to come with me to the principal’s office. The rest of you move along. Your lunch hour’s half over already, and if you don’t get over to the cafeteria in a hurry, you’re going to be pretty hungry the rest of the day.”
Amid much muttering and glancing at watches, the crowd began to drift away.
Brad spoke for the first time since he had advised Dirk to empty his pockets. “I don’t have to come, do I? I don’t have a thing to do with this—I’m not even a student here. I was just a bystander, and I’ve got a date somewhere else in about five minutes.”
Mr. Ryan hesitated. “Well—”
“Thanks.” Brad threw Lynn an amused glance and gave Dirk’s shoulder a pat of encouragement. “Good luck, Masters. Hope everything turns out O.K. for you!”
He walked over to his car, got in, and started the engine.
“Are you going to let him go?” Lynn asked, as the car pulled out of the parking lot. “He was in on everything, just as much as Dirk was.”
“But he didn’t have a gym bag with the wallet in it,” Mr. Ryan reminded her quietly. “Come on, you three—let’s go over to the principal’s office and see if we can’t get this thing straightened out.”
The next few hours always seemed to Lynn like a nightmare—an odd, distorted nightmare, with everyone in the wrong places doing the wrong things. Several times before she had been in the principal’s office on class business and noticed students sitting miserably on the long benches along the back wall, waiting to be interviewed about misconduct. She had always regarded them with a kind of pitying scorn—they were the students who were caught smoking or playing hookey or writing words on the washroom mirrors. They had no connection with Lynn or with the Hill crowd, and she seldom knew their names or saw them again.
And now, Lynn thought, I’m one of those students!
She seated herself with as much dignity as possible on the end of the bench.
Mr. Ryan spoke for a few moments with Mr. Curtis, the principal. Then the two men walked over to the bench.
“This is serious business,” Mr. Curtis said quietly. “I don’t want to go into it until your parents are here. Can you tell me where I can reach them?”
Brenda answered quickly, giving her address and telephone number. Lynn did the same.
Dirk looked defiant. “My dad’s working.”
“We want to call him, anyway,” Mr. Curtis said. “I’m sure he can get off from work for a little while for something as important as this.”
“He won’t,” Dirk said bitterly. “He doesn’t give a darn about what I do.” But after a moment, he gave the name and telephone number of Hendricks’ Grocery Store, where his father worked in the afternoons.
It was only a matter of about twenty minutes before Mrs. Chambers arrived, and an instant later Dr. Chambers himself strode in. He shook hands with Mr. Ryan and spoke to Mr. Curtis, whom he knew from Rotary.
“What is this ridiculous thing, Clint?” he asked briskly “Are you actually accusing my daughter of being mixed up in a robbery?”
“Of course not, Nathan,” Mr. Curtis said easily. “She just happened to be on the scene when this thing happened, and I thought you would want to be in on it while we got it straightened out.”
“Well, good—I’m glad you called me.” Mollified, Dr. Chambers walked over to the bench and seated herself on one side of Lynn. Mrs. Chambers was already on Lynn’s other side, talking to her softly.
A few moments later, Mrs. Peterson rushed into the room, chattering excitedly. She flew to her daughter’s side and put her arm around her. “Brenda, baby!” she breathed dramatically. “Are you all right?”
“Of course, I’m all right,” Brenda told her. “It’s the hospital money that—”
At that moment the door opened again, and another man walked in. It was Mr. Masters. He came slowly into the room, moving heavily. His weathered face was lined with worry. He glanced at the group of people before him, nodded briefly at Lynn, and then his eyes settled upon Dirk. Without a word, he went over and sat down beside him.
“Dad—” Dirk looked up in amazement. “I didn’t think you’d come!”
“Not come? I’m your father, aren’t I?” Mr. Masters turned his gaze upon Mr. Curtis. “What is this all about?”
It did not take long to go over the story. Brenda told about leaving the wallet locked in the car and about coming back to the parking lot to get her lunch money and finding the car door standing open.
“The wing window was forced open,” she said, “and the wallet was gone, and Dirk here and another fellow were just starting away from it. I insisted that they be searched, and Dirk had the wallet in his gym bag.”
“But I didn’t take it!” Dirk insisted. “I don’t know how it got there, but I didn’t take it. I went out to the parking lot to meet my friend, Brad Morgan. He was picking me up to help do some work on his car. He was t
here when I got there—we talked a few minutes and then started to walk over to where his car was parked. Now I think back on it, I remember the door of the Peterson car was standing open, but I hardly noticed it at the time.”
“But you had the wallet!” Brenda exclaimed. “And Lynn could have told you it was in the car—I mentioned it to her myself this morning—”
“That’s an absurd accusation,” Dr. Chambers broke in angrily. “Lynn wouldn’t have anything to do with stealing anything. You carelessly left a wallet lying on the front seat of your car. Anybody looking in the car window would have seen it there. Nobody had to be informed about it.”
“But Lynn could have told him.” Brenda turned to her mother. “Lynn never has liked me, Mother, especially since I became a debutante and started going around with her old crowd. And she knew that I was responsible for the money and would be in trouble if anything happened to it.” She turned back to Lynn. “I don’t think you would ever actually break into a car and take something, but I do think you could have told Dirk about it. Why, the way you stuck up for him out there on the parking lot proves you have some connection with it. You can’t think he is innocent!”
Staring back into Brenda’s cold blue eyes, Lynn’s anger was tempered with astonishment . . . Why, she actually believes what she is saying! She isn’t just trying to get me in trouble—she actually believes it!
But all she could think of to say was, “I do think Dirk is innocent. I don’t just think it—I know it.”
“And I know it, too.” Mr. Masters’ deep voice rang out strongly through the small room “My son may have done some foolish things in his young life, but he is not a thief. And he is not a liar. If he says he doesn’t know how that wallet got in his bag, then he doesn’t know.”
In the silence that followed these words, Dr. Chambers got quietly to his feet. “Whatever you decide here, Clint, I don’t think it involves us. I’ve probably got an office full of patients waiting for me by this time. If it’s all right with you, I’m going to take my wife and daughter home and get back to work.”