“Gosh, Bess, it’s after two-thirty!” Nancy exclaimed, jumping up. “I just realized that we’re late for our next interview.” She put out her hand for Anna to shake. “Thanks for being so generous with your time, Ms. Dimitros.”
Anna seemed disappointed that they were leaving so soon. “But I haven’t had a chance to talk about my start in business,” she protested.
The girls promised to call again, then left. Back in the car, Nancy told Bess about the notecard listing Steve Hill and Bobby Rouse.
“Wow. So if Dimitros knew Rouse, she could have hired him to pose for the photograph,” Bess said as Nancy pulled out into traffic. “Maybe she even killed him!”
“We still don’t know for sure,” Nancy said. “But maybe we’ll find more evidence at Steve Hill’s house.”
Bess shot Nancy a worried glance. “Nan, how are we going to get into his house without getting caught this time?”
“Ned told me that Mr. Hill is working in Patrick Gleason’s campaign office all day,” Nancy explained. “Then he’s going to the debate. We’ll just have to be careful that none of the neighbors see us.”
Fifteen minutes later, the two girls were in Steve Hill’s yard, checking his windows.
“Everything’s locked up tight,” Nancy said, yanking on the back door of the house. “I’ll have to pick the lock.”
After taking a narrow metal instrument from her shoulder bag, she inserted it into the keyhole. A few moments later, the lock clicked open.
“I keep expecting someone to jump out of the bushes,” Bess said nervously, glancing around. “Let’s get inside fast.”
Nancy opened the door and stepped into a small room that held a washer and dryer. With Bess right behind her, she quietly walked through the laundry room and into the dimly lit kitchen.
Suddenly she cocked her head to one side. From far off in the house, she heard a faint scrabbling sound.
“What’s that?” Bess asked behind her.
A split second later, a black Doberman came through the kitchen doorway. The dog let out a terrifying, deep-chested growl. Nancy’s heart seemed to leap into her throat.
In the next instant, the Doberman ran straight at Bess and Nancy, his sharp white teeth bared.
“He’s going to kill us!” Bess screamed.
Chapter
Nine
NANCY FROZE as the dog ran across the kitchen floor.
With the dog just a few feet away, Nancy forced herself to move. She whipped off her denim jacket and threw it at the dog, covering his head. Before the dog could shake the jacket off, she jumped forward to hold him still.
“Quick, Bess!” she said urgently. “Help me get him into the laundry room.”
Bess’s eyes were wide with fear as she jumped behind the dog and pushed on his haunches, while Nancy pulled him through the doorway. The Doberman locked his legs and tried to buck out of their grasp, his furious snarls barely muffled by the jacket. When they got him just inside the laundry room, Nancy took her jacket, and she and Bess jumped backward through the doorway, then slammed the door shut. A second later, they heard the dog jump at the door, barking with fury.
Bess shuddered. “I can’t believe I just did that,” she breathed, leaning against the kitchen wall.
“Me, either,” Nancy replied as she sank into a chair at the round kitchen table. “I had no idea Mr. Hill had a dog.”
Bess took a few deep breaths. “I guess we’d better start looking around before a neighbor hears that barking and decides to call the cops!”
“Good idea,” Nancy said. “I’ll search downstairs, and you check the bedrooms.”
• • •
“Find anything?” Bess asked a half hour later, joining Nancy in the den.
Nancy held up some press clippings she’d found on the desk. “Just these. They’re articles about Caroline’s run for mayor. But I haven’t found anything linking Steve Hill to the frame-up.”
“I couldn’t find anything, either,” Bess said, letting out a sigh of frustration. “I can’t believe we’ve hit another dead end.”
Checking her watch, Nancy said, “Yikes, the debate’s starting in just fifteen minutes! I’ll drop you off there, then call Ned to make sure he’s the only one at Gleason’s office. We’d better get going.”
After leaving by the front door, the two girls drove across town to the River Heights cultural center, where the debate was being held. Bess went into the auditorium, while Nancy phoned Ned from the lobby.
“The coast is almost clear,” Ned told her over the phone. “The last person is about to leave—I convinced her that I could handle the phones so she could watch the debate. I’ll be the only one here.”
“Great,” Nancy said. “I’ll be right over.”
She hung up the phone and started for the door, walking past groups of River Heights residents who were arriving for the debate. She had only gone a few steps when she recognized a short, distinguished-looking man with graying blond hair standing by the auditorium doors. It was Alan Blount, Nancy realized, the man who had given Caroline the huge donation at her fundraiser Sunday night.
Nancy paused as Patrick Gleason, surrounded by a small group, entered the lobby. He smiled and waved at people he passed. When he got to the auditorium doorway, he reached out to shake hands with Alan Blount.
Don’t bother trying to get Blount’s support, Nancy thought. Then she saw Alan Blount lean toward Gleason and mutter under his breath, “Knock ’em dead, Pat!”
Nancy was stunned. What was Alan Blount doing encouraging Gleason, when he had donated so much money to Caroline’s campaign? Had the fencing ring scandal made him switch sides?
Nancy shook her head and hurried out the door. She didn’t have time to think about that now.
It was ten minutes after four when she arrived at Patrick Gleason’s headquarters, where Ned was alone. He gave her a big smile, but Nancy thought she saw a glint of unease in his eyes.
“How’s the case going?” he asked.
Nancy quickly filled him in on her interview with Anna Dimitros and the search of Steve Hill’s house. “We still don’t have proof linking anyone to the frame-up, though. Or to Bobby Rouse’s murder.”
“Well, let’s get this over with.” With a quick look to the door, Ned led the way to Gleason’s office. Nancy glanced at the messy desk, shelves, and filing cabinets, then spun through the Rolodex on the candidate’s desk. She didn’t see any number for Bobby Rouse or for the mysterious “Greenwood” she’d seen on the note in Rouse’s car. There was no card for Anna Dimitros or Steve Hill, either.
“I don’t like lying, you know,” Ned grumbled, yanking open a file drawer.
Nancy looked up at Ned in surprise. “Ned, what are you talking about?”
Ned pulled out a stack of files and leafed through them. “After you left here today, Steve Hill told Gleason that you were snooping around for Caroline Hill, and about you and Kyle trying to break into his house. Then Gleason came to me and asked me what exactly you were up to, and if I was working for you. I told him that I backed him one hundred percent and that you and I kept your detective work out of our relationship.”
Ned had kept his eyes focused on the files while he spoke. Then he jammed the files back in the drawer and pulled out another stack.
“I’m sorry about putting you in the middle of this, Ned, but it’s important to get at the truth. Did Gleason seem nervous, like he might be afraid of what I’d find out?”
“You don’t let up, do you!” Ned burst out, slamming the file drawer shut. “Patrick Gleason trusted me enough to leave me here alone today, and look what I’m doing—ransacking his private office, looking for evidence to use against him!”
Nancy wished she could get him to understand. “Ned, you’re helping to find out who Rouse’s killer is and who framed Caroline Hill. Gleason is a suspect, and the sooner we can investigate him the sooner he’ll be cleared.” If he’s innocent, she added to herself. She knelt down to look in the bottom drawer.
“And in the meantime, it doesn’t matter to you if Gleason finds out I’ve been spying on him and loses all respect for me,” Ned said quietly.
Sitting back on her heels, Nancy looked up at her boyfriend. “Oh, Ned, I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“Look, I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have blown up at you,” Ned said. “I know you have to investigate. It’s just that I hate feeling like such a sneak.”
Nancy got to her feet and gave him a quick hug. She was about to tell him that she understood, when her gaze landed on Gleason’s typewriter.
“Hey, what’s this?” She bent over a paper that was in the typewriter on a stand by the desk. It was a letter that Patrick Gleason was writing to Today’s Times, criticizing them for printing the story about Caroline Hill.
“ ‘Every American deserves a fair chance,’ ” Ned read out loud over Nancy’s shoulder.” ‘And Caroline Hill hasn’t been getting that, thanks to your story. I firmly believe that I am the best candidate for mayor, but I also believe that I should be given the chance to beat my opponent fair and square.’ ”
“What do you think of that?” Ned challenged.
Nancy nodded. “It’s a good letter. Sounds sincere.” She didn’t add that Patrick Gleason might have written the letter just to throw suspicion off himself. She didn’t want to start another fight with Ned. Then again, maybe Ned was right. They certainly hadn’t found anything suspicious about Gleason so far.
Deep in thought, Nancy was tugging on a stubborn desk drawer when suddenly the whole drawer popped out, and papers and pencils flew everywhere.
“Good work, Drew,” Nancy scolded herself.
Ned started to laugh, then suddenly froze. “Shh! Someone’s unlocking the outside door!”
Nancy heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. She looked at Ned in shock. How were they going to explain what they were doing in there—especially with half of Gleason’s desk spilled all over the floor!
Ned quietly pushed the office door closed. A split second later, Nancy heard the front door swing open and heavy footsteps on the floor. The footsteps were getting closer.
Nancy looked at Ned and gulped. They were about to get caught red-handed!
Chapter
Ten
NANCY GLANCED frantically around the room. She had to think of a way to get them out of this mess—fast!
Suddenly she had an idea. Planting her hands on her hips, she faced her boyfriend and said in a loud, angry voice, “Ned Nickerson! You’re a real jerk, you know that?”
Ned looked at her in astonishment. “What?” he said.
“Pretend we’re fighting,” she whispered, pointing to the door. Raising her voice to a shout, she said, “First, you tell me you don’t even know the girl, and then you tell me she’s just a friend!”
Nancy waved her hand at him to respond. Then she hurriedly bent down to pick up the contents of the drawer.
“Well, she is just a friend!” he defended himself loudly. Stifling a laugh, he helped Nancy return pens and papers to the drawer.
“Really?” Nancy’s voice was icy as she scooped up paper clips. “And are you in the habit of kissing all your friends?”
They paused and listened: The footsteps had stopped. Good! Nancy thought. Hopefully the person was totally embarrassed and wondering what to do.
“You know, Nancy,” Ned went on, “I’m getting really sick of your crazy accusations!” He finished putting the last of the items back in the drawer, then slid it into its slot.
“Is that so?” Nancy shot back. “Then maybe I should just leave right now!” She stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind her.
Their one-man audience, a tall, middle-aged man, was hovering near the office door when Nancy came out. She saw his face switch from fascination to embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping. Nancy faked a gasp of shock at his presence and hurried out the front door. Moments later, after apologizing to the staff member, Ned joined Nancy down the street, where they couldn’t be seen from the headquarters’ windows.
“Fights are fun when you don’t mean it,” Ned joked. He pulled Nancy into his arms as he leaned against a parked car.
“Aren’t they, though?” Nancy agreed, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Maybe we should take up acting. We sure had that poor guy convinced!”
Ned laughed. “Yeah, that was Dave Mitchell, a staff member. I told him I was really sorry for using Gleason’s office for our fight. I acted as embarrassed as he was.” He kissed her hair.
“Hey,” Nancy said, looking up into his face. She thought he looked cuter than ever. “How about dinner at my house tonight? I really owe you after all the trouble I keep getting you into. Hannah’s making roast chicken and blueberry cobbler.”
Ned grinned at her. “You’re on. For tonight, you and I are going to forget about this campaign and your case.”
He bent to kiss her, and Nancy found that she didn’t have any problem forgetting about everything else in the world but Ned.
• • •
“Now, I’m supposed to be Molly Thomas, a photographer at Today’s Times, right?” Bess asked Wednesday morning, as she and Nancy climbed the marble staircase in City Hall.
“That’s right,” Nancy replied. It was just before nine, the time of the appointment she had made with Mayor Filanowski, pretending to be Brenda. The girls’ heels clicked across the polished hallway as they headed for the mayor’s second-floor office. Bess was carrying a camera bag. “I can’t believe Hector is trusting me with his best camera,” she said. “I hope I don’t drop it.”
As they passed a mirror set in a gilt frame on the wall, Nancy paused to check her reflection. Staring back at her was a chic, sophisticated young woman, wearing a tailored houndstooth suit with a short, narrow skirt and black pumps.
“You look very Brenda Carlton,” Bess said, giggling. “Especially with that red lipstick and French braid.”
“I just hope he’s never met Brenda before—or that it’s so long ago that he’s forgotten how she looks.”
When the girls reached the mayor’s office, Nancy introduced herself and Bess to the mayor’s secretary, Mrs. Wellborn. The petite, grayhaired woman reminded Nancy of a small bird.
Pressing her intercom button, Mrs. Wellborn said, “Mayor, the Carlton girl is here for her interview, along with her photographer, Miss Thomas.”
A moment later, a portly man in his early sixties appeared. “Come on in, Miss Carlton, Miss Thomas!”
Nancy had never met Mayor Filanowski before, but she recognized him from pictures she’d seen in the paper. He smiled jovially at the girls as he shook hands and waved them into his office.
Nancy exchanged a relieved look with Bess. Filanowski didn’t seem to know that Nancy wasn’t Brenda. So far so good!
The girls glanced around at the gleaming wood paneling and thick damask curtains, then sat in the upholstered chairs the mayor indicated by his desk. He sank into his leather desk chair and locked his fingers behind his head. He had already shed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves.
“I must tell you, Miss Carlton, I have only a few minutes to give you. But that’s more than any other reporter is getting, so you should feel lucky. And of course you know my policy of not discussing the upcoming election.” When Nancy and Bess nodded, he smiled. “Now, you wanted to talk to me about growing up in River Heights?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Nancy replied, flipping open her notebook and pretending to take notes.
The mayor launched into a long description of what the city was like when he was a boy. “Things have certainly changed for the better,” he told them. “The old stereotypes are breaking down. We’ve even got our first female firefighter!”
“Doesn’t it seem ironic, Mayor,” Nancy said, smiling sweetly, “that you have such compassion for minorities and women, and yet you’re being accused of sabotaging Caroline Hill’s chance of becoming mayor?”
Filanowski glowered at Nancy. “If you’re talking about the editorial in the Morning Record, that’s a bunch of nonsense!” he said gruffly. “I am not trying to hurt Caroline Hill any more than I am trying to help Patrick Gleason.”
“Then why have you remained silent?” Nancy persisted.
“I’ve already stated my reason!” Filanowski shouted, then hit the desk with his fist. “That’s all I’ll say on the matter! Why won’t you people leave me alone!”
Nancy and Bess jumped in their seats. Why was he reacting so strongly to the questions? Nancy wondered.
“Excuse me,” Filanowski mumbled, his face reddening. “I’m a little tense these days. It’s not easy facing retirement. Now, where were we?”
At that moment, the mayor’s intercom buzzed, and he hit the button. “Yes?”
“Al is on line one,” Mrs. Wellborn said.
“Tell him I’ll get back to him in five minutes,” Filanowski replied. Then he stood up and turned to Bess. “Now, Miss Thomas,” he said, “if you’re ready to take my picture, we can wrap up this interview.”
Nancy felt her heart sink. Obviously, the mayor had no intention of saying anything more about the election.
Bess chatted with the mayor about his retirement plans as she posed him next to a photograph of himself as a boy. Then she and Nancy thanked the mayor and left.
As they passed Mrs. Wellborn’s desk, Nancy paused. “What will you do when Mayor Filanowski retires?” she asked pleasantly.
“I’m retiring to Florida also,” Mrs. Wellborn answered. “Though I’m afraid I could never afford to live in Pelican Bay, where the mayor will be living. You have to be practically a millionaire to live there.”
“Well, good luck,” Bess told the secretary.
As soon as the girls had left City Hall, Bess said, “Filanowski really lost it when you asked him about Caroline. Do you think it means anything?”
“It makes me wonder if he has some special reason for not backing Caroline—something he doesn’t want people to know,” Nancy said. Then she shrugged. “But according to my dad, he’s always been honest and straightforward. What could he possibly have to hide?”
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