“Stranger things have happened,” said the officer. He turned to a younger officer who’d just come in. “Yes, Rogers? What is it?”
“This, sir.” The younger man held out his hand. “It’s a spent rifle cartridge. We found it way up on the hill behind the house. No other signs of the gunman, though.”
Or gunwoman, Nancy said to herself.
“Probably long gone,” said Officer Mclntyre. “But we’ll post two guards here overnight, just to make sure.” He turned to Nancy. “I’d like your number, in case I need to ask you anything more. Other than that, you and your friends are free to go.”
• • •
In silence the three girls drove back through the dark to the hotel. Silent still, they parked the car in the garage, went into the bungalow, and sat down facing one another.
At last Nancy spoke. “We never got any supper,” she said. “Anyone hungry?”
“I’m not, that’s for sure,” Bess said in a small voice. Then she burst into tears.
“I feel so terrible for Jesse!” she wept. “He’s been through so much. And he’s—he’s not even like a real person any more. There’s nobody inside. He’s just a—a robot!”
“I feel bad, too,” said George. “It was horrible to see someone who’d once been such a star living like that. I wish we’d never come here in the first place.”
When Nancy spoke, it was as much to reassure herself as her friends. “Anybody would get a little strange living alone for so long—especially with that cliff scene in his past,” she said. “He’ll become himself again now that he’s out in the real world again. He won’t be able to help it. Someone that talented can’t hide from things forever.”
“As long as whoever’s after him doesn’t get him,” George said darkly.
Nancy shivered. “That’s the thing I do feel awful about,” she said. “If we hadn’t found him, the person with the rifle wouldn’t have, either.”
Then she squared her jaw and sat up straighter. “We’ll have to catch that person, that’s all,” she said. “We started this, and we’re going to finish it. But we need a good night’s sleep first. I’d better call Ned. He’ll be wondering what’s happened to me.”
“Hello?” came Ned’s groggy voice after she’d dialed his number. She was using the phone next to her bed.
“Oh, Ned, I’m so sorry!” said Nancy, aghast. “I forgot about the time difference. I’ll call you back tomorrow—”
“No, you won’t. Talk to me now,” said Ned. “I’m getting more awake every second. How’s the case going?”
“Oh, Ned . . .” Nancy poured it all out to him, and when she was done she was almost in tears herself.
“This just isn’t the way cases are supposed to go,” she said in a wobbly voice. “I’m supposed to come in and solve them, and then everyone is happier and I can go home. But this time it seems as though I’ve only made things worse!”
“Not true,” Ned said emphatically. “You’ve helped that guy, whether it seems like it now or not. And you’ll catch whoever shot him—you always do, you know. I’m not even going to tell you to be careful this time. You just go out and get that gunman. But be careful,” he added at the last minute.
Nancy giggled. “I love you, Ned. I feel a lot better now. I’m really glad I called—even if I did deprive you of your beauty sleep.”
“Hey, I’m already gorgeous enough,” Ned said lightly. “Now you go and get some beauty sleep yourself—not that you need it, either. And give me a call when you get a chance. I love you.”
• • •
The phone woke her early the next morning.
“Nancy?” It was a man’s voice, hoarse and hesitant, and for a second Nancy was too sleepy to recognize it.
“It’s Jesse. I’m sorry to call you, but I didn’t have anyone else to call.”
“Hi, Jesse,” Nancy said, struggling to sound alert. “How’s your arm doing?”
His answer startled her. “The arm doesn’t matter. Nancy, I’m in trouble. Really big trouble.”
Nancy was wide-awake now. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“The matter is that there are two policemen standing at the foot of my bed right now. And they’re here to arrest me!”
Chapter
Fifteen
YES, I THINK we’ve finally got the proof we need,” the police officer told Nancy. “It will be nice to see this case closed. I’m sorry for Slade, though. It doesn’t look good for him.”
Jesse had been so frightened by the sight of the police at the foot of his bed that he’d panicked. He hadn’t been under arrest at all—the police had just wanted to ask him a few questions. But the direction the questions had led was all too clear to Nancy.
“Where’s your evidence?” Nancy asked, controlling her anger.
When she’d finished talking to Jesse Nancy had woken George. Bess had been so sleepy that Nancy had had to give up trying to rouse her. She’d left a note before she and George hurried into clothes and rushed off to the police station to see what was going on. Now they were talking to one of the men who’d questioned Jesse—Officer Squires, a tall, gangly man with an infuriatingly patronizing expression.
“We’ve got some very convincing evidence,” he said. Nancy half expected him to add, “Young ladies.” “Last night someone delivered us an anonymous package. I’m the one who opened it.” For some reason he seemed quite proud of himself. “Inside there was a bloodstained T-shirt—and a note. Here’s the note, if you’d like to see it. Careful not to touch it, though.”
Nancy and George stared at the note. It had been scribbled in pencil on a torn sheet of notebook paper.
This shirt once belonged to Tommy Road, who was viciously murdered by Jesse Slade. I saw it happen and found the body. Slade’s been hiding out all this time—but he can’t get away from justice.
It was signed, “A Friend of the Law.”
“But this is ridiculous!” Nancy protested. “There’s no way to prove that the shirt is Tommy’s—or that whoever wrote this note witnessed anything at all!”
“There’s no way to prove it,” agreed Officer Squires. “But you may be interested in knowing that we did a lab check on the T-shirt. The blood type is the same as Tommy Road’s. And the bloodstains are the right age.”
He stared smugly at her, and for a second Nancy could think of nothing to say.
I know Tommy Road’s not dead, she said to herself. I’m just sure of it. I’ve got to keep Jesse from going to trial for murder! But how do you explain a hunch to a police officer?
At last she found her voice. “As you say, that’s interesting,” she said. “But it can’t be true—for a very simple reason. I know that Tommy Road is still alive.” From the corner of her eye she could see George turning to stare at her, but she kept her gaze on Officer Squires.
“And just how do you know that?” he asked.
“I’m working on the evidence right now,” Nancy replied. I’ll find some, anyway, she thought. “And I’m sure that TV Rock will back me up. I’m heading right over to the station to bring one of their camera crews here.”
To her secret satisfaction, Officer Squires was starting to look worried. “And now,” Nancy asked, “where’s Jesse? We’d like to talk to him.”
“He’s out of the hospital,” the officer answered a little sullenly. “You can see him any time. He’s waiting for you in there.” He pointed to a door at the end of the room and turned his back on them. “I’ve got a lot of work to do,” he muttered. “What a way to spend a Sunday morning.”
Jesse was sitting on a bench, his head against the wall. He stood up when he saw them—and then winced. “I’ve got to remember to move more slowly,” he said.
Under his shirt, his shoulder was bulging with bandages. “How’s your arm?” George asked solicitously.
“Much better.” He started to smile, but the smile faded instantly. “It’ll have plenty of time to heal in jail, too.”
“Don’t talk
that way!” Nancy said. “You’re not under arrest. And we’re going to beat this thing!”
“I’m glad to hear you say that, Nancy,” George said, “and I can’t wait to hear how. But let’s talk about it outside. I don’t want to turn around and find Officer Squires looming over me.”
There was a little coffee shop next to the police station. Over coffee and doughnuts Nancy told George and Jesse about her hunch. Both of them looked at her doubtfully when she’d finished.
“It would be great if it were true,” Jesse said, “but why are you so sure? Just because there’s no body doesn’t mean there wasn’t a body once, if you know what I mean. Believe me, I’m not eager to face a murder rap, but I don’t trust hunches.”
“Nancy’s hunches are always right,” George said loyally. “And not because she’s psychic or anything. She only gets hunches when she’s noticed some little detail subconsciously. It’s as if something trips her memory. That’s why I’m sure she’s right now. But how you’re going to explain this to the police and Mr. Thomas, I just don’t know.”
“It’s the shirt,” Nancy said.
“Excuse me?” Jesse asked.
Nancy was frowning thoughtfully. “When you think about it, that bloody shirt doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “Let’s just say it’s true that there’s a witness to the fight who doesn’t want to get involved. Let’s take it even further and say that the witness did hang onto the shirt all this time, hoping that when Jesse did turn up, he or she would be able to incriminate him. Okay, it’s possible—barely.
“But it was a T-shirt! Can you imagine anyone who’d watch the fight, wade into the water to retrieve a body, take a bloody T-shirt off a corpse, and then decide just to leave the body in the water? It’s not believable. It just doesn’t make any sense! I don’t think there was ever a dead body. I think Tommy Road survived the fall, kept his shirt, and only came forward now that Jesse’s back.”
“You know, you’re right! That’s just Tommy’s style,” said Jesse. He gave a giddy laugh. “I guess I’m not a murderer after all! Boy, I feel as though you’ve lifted a ten-ton weight off my head!”
“But we’ve still got to convince everyone else,” Nancy said. She set her coffee cup down with a click. “Let’s get over to TVR now. I’m going to call Mr. Thomas and ask him to meet us there.”
“He’s on his way,” she said, returning from the pay phone. “He wasn’t tremendously happy to be woken up this early on Sunday, but I told him it couldn’t wait.”
• • •
The TVR building was all but deserted. A sleepy-looking receptionist in the lobby winced when she saw them rushing in. “You look much too wide-awake,” she said with a yawn. “Go on into Mr. Thomas’s office. He’s expecting you.”
He was sitting behind his desk when they walked in, his fingers drumming the desktop impatiently. “This had better be good,” he began—and then he saw Jesse.
His eyes widened. “Jesse Slade!” he exclaimed. “I thought you’d been arr—I mean, taken to hospital!”
Nancy was sure Mr. Thomas had been about to say “arrested.” Now, how did he know that? she wondered. Did he find out about it on TV? But what news station could have gotten the story so quickly? Jesse had only been with the police for half an hour.
And why had he said “taken to hospital” instead of “taken to the hospital”?
The ghost of a suspicion was beginning to float around Nancy’s brain. Could Winslow Thomas be British? Tommy Road had been British, too. . . .
Before she could think about it further, Mr. Thomas jumped up with his hand extended. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said rapidly. “On behalf of TVR, I’d like to welcome you back to the world.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jesse said. He was looking a little perplexed, Nancy thought. “We—we haven’t met before, have we?”
“I wish we had,” Winslow said regretfully. “But TVR hadn’t really taken off when you—uh—vanished. I hope we’ll have the pleasure of working together often from now on.”
He turned to Nancy. “Was this why you had me come—to meet Jesse?”
“Not exactly,” said Nancy. She took a deep breath. “Mr. Thomas, I’ve gone ahead and stuck my neck out on something. I hope you won’t mind.” And she described what had just taken place at the police station.
“You what?” Mr. Thomas asked, reddening angrily. “How could you involve this station in something so farfetched? That seems a little nervy to me, Nancy.”
“I really had no choice.” Nancy met his gaze steadily. “You see, I know I’m right.”
Winslow Thomas’s face was contorted with rage now. “I’ve never heard of such a thing! You wheedled your way in here, and now you’re going to make a laughingstock of us! I should call the police and have you thrown out of here!”
What was happening to his accent? All of a sudden it was British! Nancy looked at her friends and saw that they were as puzzled as she.
The hint that had been nagging her began to surface. Suddenly she realized it had to be true.
“Go on, get out!” he was shouting.
“You are Tommy Road!” Nancy whispered.
Mr. Thomas froze. “What—what are you saying?” he sputtered. “You really are crazy!”
“No, she’s right!” Jesse gasped. “I knew I’d seen you before!”
“It’s all starting to make sense now,” Nancy said. “Your voice. The British phrases that kept popping out. Your weird-looking beard. And there was plenty of time for you to get over to Jesse’s house last night, once I’d told you everything. You were the one who shot him. You must have been hanging around and watching to see what happened. You gave that shirt to the police. That’s why you thought Jesse had been arrested!”
Mr. Thomas—Tommy Road—hesitated for a second. Then he gave her an ironic bow. “I must congratulate you,” he said, his eyes full of hate. “I’m only surprised our friend Mr. Slade didn’t recognize me sooner.”
He wheeled around to turn his full fury on Jesse. “You tried to kill me,” he spat out.
Jesse’s face was white with shock. “I—I didn’t! You know I didn’t mean for you to fall off that cliff! It was an accident!”
“It may have been an accident,” Tommy Road said in a steely voice, “but you’ll pay for it. When I’m done with you, you’ll wish you’d been the one who’d slid off that cliff.”
“You didn’t even really manage to hurt me,” he sneered. “I sprained my ankle, but that was about it. I watched you come down the cliff. I could tell it was too dark for you to see me. I swore I’d kill you when you reached the bottom. But when you took off down the beach, I thought—wait, this is my big chance!
“I assumed you’d report that I’d died. I hoped you’d be found guilty of my death. Whichever one happened, I knew no one would be trying to arrest Tommy Road for embezzlement. You can’t arrest a dead man! It was my big chance to get away with the money and start a new life. I wouldn’t even have to leave the country.
“Of course I saved my bloody shirt just in case it might come in handy someday,” he continued. “And earlier that week—when I found out you’d been snooping around the accounts—I’d taken the precaution of switching the money in my account to a numbered Swiss account. No names necessary. All I had to do was grow a beard, wait until my hair grew in—and start life over. First I invested in record production. Then in music videos. And then I got my own music channel.” He chuckled suddenly. “Of course I don’t let any of the bands I used to handle perform on TVR.”
Now he turned to Nancy. “You’ve obviously done a lot of thinking, Ms. Drew. It’s a pity that you’re so clever, because I’m not about to let anyone interfere with my plans. Not an amateur detective. Not a has-been rock star. Not anyone!”
And before anyone could stop him, he bolted from the room.
“We’ve got to catch him!” Nancy shouted.
The three of them dashed out of the office. Tommy Road was jus
t disappearing into one of the preview rooms at the end of the hall. They pursued him to the door.
“It was this room,” Nancy called, and they ran into it so fast that they piled up at the entrance.
The little room was pitch-dark. “Wait!” Nancy said. “He’s not—”
There was a click—the sound of the door being locked.
Nancy whirled around to test the door they’d just come through. “He just locked it,” she said.
Frantically Jesse rattled the knob of the door at the other end of the room. It was locked, too.
Then a light came on in the production booth on the other side of the glass wall. Tommy Road was sitting at the controls.
“Now that we’re all gathered together, I’ve got a little number for your listening pleasure,” he cooed into the microphone. “It’s the first play of a song that I know will go gold. I know you’re going to love it.”
He smiled—and hit a switch in front of him.
A screeching blast filled the preview room. It was the same noise—the same unbearably loud noise—that Nancy had heard in her car. But now it was magnified a hundred times.
Nancy clapped her hands over her ears, but it was no use. Nothing could protect them against that deadly shriek.
Jesse collapsed to the floor, writhing. George looked as if she was screaming, but the evil blast was drowning out her voice.
So he’s the one who rigged the car stereo, Nancy thought dazedly. It was all she could do to hold on to that thought. George had fallen to the floor, and Nancy knew she also was about to collapse.
The sound was killing them!
Chapter
Sixteen
AS SHE FELL to her knees, Nancy could see Tommy Road laughing maniacally. She reached her hand pleadingly out to him, but all he did was wag a teasing finger at her. He’d gone mad. He picked his suit jacket up off the chair next to him and strolled leisurely out of the control booth.
The Vanishing Act Page 9