Running Scared

by Carolyn Keene

  “There’s something else, too,” Nancy said. She told the detective about Gina saying “Munk” at the hospital. “And Renee Clark just identified the handwriting on the note that had the time and place of the shooting in the park. Charles Munk wrote it.”

  Stokes made a low whistle.

  “Gina and Annette have both been around for a while, and they both have run on the European circuit,” Nancy went on. “Gina must have recognized Mellor as Munk from back then.”

  “That makes sense,” the sergeant agreed. “If he thought she was going to talk to Brenda Carlton about some scandal involving him, he might have figured he had to stop her.”

  “That’s another thing,” Nancy said. “Munk is half of the conspiracy responsible for all the incidents we’ve been investigating.”

  There was a pause before Stokes said, “And I suppose you’ve worked out who the other half is?”

  “It’s Annette herself,” Nancy told him. She went on to explain her theory that the whole thing was to build up Annette’s TV exposure so that she would be hired as a sportscaster.

  “And that’s who Monk left the note for. He was telling her where to run so that he could set up the shooting. Originally I thought that the note was for the sniper, but it was from Munk to Annette.”

  “It does fit,” Sergeant Stokes said slowly. “Between them they had the means, the motive, and the opportunity for everything. Munk must have been driving the car that was used in the apparent hit-and-run and the so-called abduction attempt.”

  “And he ‘borrowed’ ICT cars in all three instances, probably to throw suspicion on Kevin in case he was seen.”

  “The question is, what was his motive?” Stokes wondered aloud. “What did Munk gain?”

  Nancy paused for a moment, thinking. “My hunch is that Annette blackmailed him into helping her. Like Gina, she must have recognized him. She would have known what he had done in Europe and she probably threatened to expose him. The problem is, he’s vanished.”

  After a short silence, Sergeant Stokes said, “Stay put. My partner and I are on the way.”

  • • •

  Nancy felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when the hotel’s concierge let her, Bess, Sergeant Stokes, and Detective Zandt into Calvin Munk’s room ten minutes later.

  “He’s already gotten away, hasn’t he,” Bess said, leaning against the wall next to the door. Empty drawers stuck out of the dresser, and the closet held nothing but some hangers.

  “Looks that way,” said Sergeant Stokes.

  “Take a look at this,” Detective Zandt called to his partner as he peered inside the top dresser drawer. He held up two brass rifle cartridges.

  Sergeant Stokes examined them. “The same kind the sniper used in the park,” he said. Then he went back to searching the area near the bed.

  “Well, well.” Sergeant Stokes pulled a pad of the marbled notepaper from the bedside table. He held it close to the bedside lamp. “Indentations on the top sheet,” he observed. “Munk wrote something down and tore off the sheet.”

  Nancy went over and watched while he did a pencil rubbing. “A phone number,” she said.

  The sergeant nodded. “We’ll get out an all-points bulletin on Munk,” he said, “and we’ll check on this number.”

  “He could still be planning more attacks,” Detective Zandt said. “If Munk wants to bury his past, he’ll go after Annette. That reporter—”

  “Brenda Carlton,” Nancy supplied.

  “Right. She’s another possible target. We can keep watch on her, but I don’t see how we can keep an eye on Annette along the whole marathon route. We should just put her into custody right now and be done with it.”

  Nancy held up a hand. “The problem is that Annette’s arrest will make news. When Munk hears of it, he’ll go into hiding.”

  “But if she isn’t arrested, Munk is bound to be somewhere on that marathon course tomorrow, waiting for her,” Bess put in, picking up on Nancy’s reasoning.

  “Right,” the sergeant said. “And we can’t possibly cover over twenty-six miles. It would take an army.”

  “Munk has dropped out of sight and changed identities once before,” Nancy pointed out. “If he runs for it, he may be able to do it again.”

  Sergeant Stokes signed and scratched his head. “We might be able to arrange to have a police scooter trail Annette along the course. I’ll check with the racing association. I’ll make my final decision in the morning.”

  “For now we’ll put a discreet guard on Annette’s and Brenda’s rooms,” Detective Zandt added.

  Checking her watch, Nancy saw that it was after ten. “Let’s tell George what’s been happening,” she said to Bess.

  They said good night to Stokes and Zandt, then went down a flight to their room. When they opened the door, the room was dark, but Nancy saw George stir in her bed.

  “I was just drifting off,” George said groggily, sitting up and turning on the bedside light. “Are you guys going to sleep already?”

  Bess went over and sat on the edge of her cousin’s bed. “We know who Annette’s accomplice is,” she told George in a rush. “Charles Mellor, except his name is really Calvin Munk.”

  “Slow down,” George urged, holding up both palms. “Charles Mellor is the other half of Annette’s conspiracy? You mean, Renee Clark’s trainer? What did you say his real name is?”

  Nancy quickly told George about the history of Calvin Munk and that he had written the note on the message board. “Now Munk has disappeared, and the police are afraid he might try to hide the truth about his past by killing Annette tomorrow.”

  “In the race?” George sat bolt upright, now fully awake. “But how? Where? There’ll be thousands of people watching, and television crews and everything. Annette is going to be in front of a TV camera for most of the race. He’d be crazy to try anything.”

  “Maybe he is crazy,” Bess suggested.

  Nancy nodded thoughtfully. “One thing’s for sure. He’s getting more and more out of control. What he did to Gina shows that he’s no longer going to worry about hurting people.”

  George’s eyes widened. “How can we help?”

  “Right now the police are taking care of everything,” Nancy assured her. “The best thing for us to do is get some sleep. One way or another, tomorrow is going to be a full day.”

  • • •

  The phone rang before seven the next morning, rousing Nancy from an uneasy sleep. As she got up from her cot, she became aware of the shower running and saw that George’s bed was empty. Bess was still sound asleep.

  Nancy stumbled to the phone and picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Nancy? This is Sergeant Stokes.”

  “What’s up?” Nancy asked, instantly alert.

  “No sign of Munk. That phone number in his room was a gardening supply place. A man with Munk’s description bought a supply of a powerful pesticide. The active ingredient is nicotine.”

  “Nicotine? You mean like in tobacco?”

  “Right. It’s a colorless liquid alkaloid. A minute amount in a glass of water can be fatal. Munk obviously studied chemistry. The lab guys say you can distill the stuff out without sophisticated equipment.”

  “Oh, no,” Nancy said, feeling a sense of foreboding. “Is it tasteless, too?”

  “Actually, according to the lab people, it’s very bitter and unpleasant.”

  “I can’t see how he’d sneak it into anyone’s food or drink, then,” Nancy mused aloud.

  “Me, neither. Have you come up with any brilliant ideas on how we can grab Munk?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Nancy said glumly.

  Sergeant Stokes was silent for a moment. “Neither have we,” he said. “We’re going to let Annette run. Our only hope is to draw him out that way.”

  “What’s the plan?” Nancy asked.

  “Zandt and I are going to be just behind the starting area by eight. That’s where to find us, if you need u
s. We’ve got all the officers we can to work the marathon. They’ll be strung along the course, in radio contact with us. And we’ve got a guy on a scooter, but I’m not sure how much good he’ll be able to do. We’ve got strict orders from the runners association not to interfere with the top runners’ progress.”

  After thanking the sergeant, Nancy hung up. She quickly dressed in jeans and a shirt.

  “Breakfast time,” George announced brightly, emerging from the bathroom. She was wrapped in one of the hotel’s huge, fluffy bath towels and was drying her hair with another.

  Nancy gave her Stokes’s news. “I don’t get it. What will Munk do with nicotine?” George asked.

  Nancy shrugged, “Maybe try to poison Annette with it, though I have no idea how,” she admitted.

  “Ugh!” said George, shivering. “I’m glad the cops are going to be protecting her.” Patting her stomach, she said, “I’m going to burn a lot of fuel today. I need breakfast. I can be ready in five minutes. What about you guys?”

  “I’ll be ready,” Nancy said. “But I don’t know about Bess.” As Nancy headed into the bathroom, she called loudly, “Bess! Wake up!”

  “Mmmph,” muttered Bess, opening one eye. “I heard, I heard. I’ll meet you in the coffee shop in about twenty minutes, okay?”

  “Okay, but get a move on,” said George, who was putting on silky blue shorts and her Heartland Marathon T-shirt with her race number, 6592, pinned to it.

  A few minutes later George and Nancy were sitting in the coffee shop. They ordered, and as soon as their breakfast was served, George dug into her huge plate of pancakes with gusto.

  “You need carbohydrates when you’re going to be burning energy at the rate I will be today.”

  “I know, I know,” Nancy said, laughing. “You’ve told us often enough.” Nancy did not feel hungry, though, and barely touched her bacon and eggs. Through the coffee shop’s glass wall, she watched the buzzing activity in the lobby.

  “Who are all those people?” she asked George, pointing to a large group, all of whom were wearing orange Day-Glo vests with H20 marked on the backs in big block letters.

  “They’re the volunteers who’ll be manning the water stations,” George explained. “The stations are at intervals along the course. The volunteers hand out water and sports drinks as we go by. You get pretty dehydrated, you know.”

  “I’ll bet,” Nancy said. “Running twenty-six miles must—” She broke off and stared into the lobby. “George, look.”

  A middle-aged man had just staggered in through the front door, bleeding from a gash on his forehead. He was quickly helped to a chair by a couple of the volunteers.

  “Come on,” Nancy said, getting up from the table. “I want to see what this is about.”

  “He just sprang at me,” the man was saying when Nancy and George reached him. “Hit me with a tire iron, yanked off my vest, and ran.”

  “You mean the H20 vest?” Nancy asked.

  The man nodded just as the hotel’s doctor arrived. Nancy stepped back to give the doctor room.

  “George, that’s it!” Nancy said excitedly, grabbing George’s arm. “Munk is going to be at one of those stations with his own supply of doctored water. That’s how he’ll try to poison Annette!”

  George stared at her in horror.

  “The worst thing is,” Nancy went on grimly, “there are dozens of stations. We don’t have a clue as to which one he’ll be at!”

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  THIS IS AWFUL!” George exclaimed. “What can we do?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Nancy. “Let’s finish breakfast and talk.”

  Back at the table George stared glumly down at her stack of cold pancakes.

  “How do the water stations work?” Nancy asked.

  “They have cups on a table, and the volunteers fill them from big containers. Then they hold the cups out to runners as they go by.” George shot Nancy a worried glance. “You think Munk will try to slip Annette a cup of bad water?”

  “Probably,” Nancy replied. “She’ll be concentrating on the race. There’s a good chance she’ll grab the water without looking at him.”

  “Hi, guys!” Bess said brightly. She sat down at the table and opened a menu. “Any news on Munk?” When Nancy explained about the nicotine, Bess looked appalled.

  “I was wondering how anyone would drink the stuff if it tastes so bad,” Nancy went on. “But when you’re dehydrated, you’d gulp it down before you realized what it was. By then it’s too late.”

  George jumped up from the table. “We’d better tell the police what’s going on, right now!”

  • • •

  The starting area at Daley Plaza was total bedlam when the charter bus from the hotel let off Nancy, Bess, George, and dozens of other runners. Runners swarmed all over, doing stretches, jogging in place, and finding their starting positions behind the red ribbon strung across a street bordering the plaza.

  “The top runners have their own starting point a few blocks away,” George explained. “That way their start isn’t hampered by the pack—that’s regular runners like me.”

  “I hope the police already have a man with Annette,” Nancy said. “Oh—there they are.” She pointed to a patrol car parked about fifty yards away. Sergeant Stokes and Detective Zandt were standing next to it.

  “I’d better join the runners,” George said, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Nancy could see that despite the danger, George was really excited about this marathon.

  “Good luck,” she said, hugging George. “I know you’ll do great. And look at the volunteers before you drink any water—and take just a tiny taste first. Then spit it out if it tastes bad!”

  “I will. I hope you find Munk before anyone else gets hurt,” George said.

  Bess suddenly grinned, pointing over George’s shoulder. “Look who’s here!” she said.

  Kevin Davis, wearing a maroon ICT blazer, was making his way through the crowd toward them. Behind him, near the starting line, Nancy saw an ICT van with a cameraman perched on top, getting shots of the vast sea of runners.

  George’s eyes sparkled as she turned and saw Kevin. “Hi!” she said.

  “I can’t stay,” Kevin said, fingering the silver charm around George’s neck. “See you at the finish line, George,” he said, gently squeezing her shoulder. “Good luck.”

  As George went off to join the growing mob of entrants, an idea suddenly occurred to Nancy. Turning to Kevin, she said, “I need your help.”

  “Now? I’m pretty busy, Nancy. Can’t it wait?”

  “This is a matter of life and death,” Nancy replied. “I mean that literally.”

  Kevin frowned, but he let Nancy lead him over to Sergeant Stokes and Detective Zandt.

  “We found out something that might help find him,” Nancy said. She told the officers about the man they suspected was Munk stealing a Day-Glo vest from a water volunteer.

  Detective Zandt listened while leaning against the door of the police car. “Let’s have the men pay special attention to those water stations,” he told his partner.

  Sergeant Stokes nodded and gave orders on the squad car radio.

  “How can I help?” Kevin asked.

  “You’ll be following the lead runners, right?” Nancy asked. When he nodded, she said, “I want to ride with your van, along with Sergeant Stokes or Detective Zandt. That way we can grab Munk when he makes his move.”

  Kevin looked dubious. “I don’t know. We’re crowded as it is,” he explained. “There’s the cameraman, a sound man, and the driver and me, plus racks of gear . . .”

  His voice trailed off as he saw the determined expression on Nancy’s face. “Oh, all right,” he relented. “I guess I can fit you in.”

  “Good,” Stokes said. “I’ll stay here, since this is our central communications base. Zandt, you and Nancy and her friend go with the ICT van. Take a radio and stay in touch.”

  “Let’s go,” t
he detective said.

  Nancy, Bess, and the detective followed as Kevin sprinted toward his van, dodging through the crowd. Within five minutes they were all set up. Kevin and his crew manned the van’s rooftop camera, and Zandt, Nancy, and Bess sat below. At the detective’s request the van’s rear doors were tied open, so they would have the clearest view possible of the runners and the water stations.

  “I don’t think Munk will make a move until the middle of the race,” said Nancy as they drove to the other starting line. “He’d want to catch Annette when she’s likely to be tired and dehydrated and really in need of that drink.”

  The detective nodded, his eyes on the runners. “I hope we’ll be able to keep track of Annette in this crowd.”

  Following his gaze, Nancy spotted Annette and Renee in the prime spots at the starting line. Dozens of runners stood crowded together behind them. “They won’t stay all jammed together for long,” Nancy said. “They’ll thin out.”

  A voice over a loudspeaker said, “The Heartland Marathon will begin in one minute.”

  There was electricity in the air. Runners and technicians stood waiting. “Take your marks,” said the amplified voice. “Get set . . .”

  The sound of the starter’s gun made Nancy jump. The next thing she knew, the top runners were setting off. The van moved forward at roughly the runners’ pace, and Nancy, Bess, and Detective Zandt craned their necks to keep Annette in view. Above them the cameraman was getting panoramic shots of the runners as they jockeyed for position. Kevin was speaking into a microphone.

  As Nancy had predicted, it wasn’t long before some runners moved ahead. Annette established herself as the front runner, slightly ahead of Renee. The crowds lining the route cheered the runners as they passed.

  As the van reached the first water station, Nancy tried to focus on each volunteer in turn. There was no sign of Munk. At each succeeding station she felt more tense, wondering, Could this be the one?