Sisters in Crime (10 page)

“I think Kathy is telling the truth,” Nancy said, folding her arms across her chest. “And that I've set up a group of people to study a phony exam for Monday who have nothing to do with the murder.”

Susan rested her elbows on her knees, and looked down.

“Tomorrow, though, I can finally get into Peterson's office—maybe there I'll find the information we need,” Nancy said, trying to sound hopeful.

“What about Fran Kelly and Jan Miller?” Susan asked. “They've been so cruel to you.”

Nancy shook her head. “I'm starting to think that's just Fran's nature—she's jealous—and somehow she convinced Jan not to like me.” Nancy crossed her outstretched legs at the ankles. “Maybe all these aggressive people are a smokescreen, keeping me from seeing someone not so obvious.”

Susan looked at Nancy's determined face as Nancy continued, “Someone who could be in the background. Someone,” Nancy said, “like Alice Clark.”

“Where are you going now?” Susan asked as Nancy got up from the bed and pulled a bright purple sweatshirt over her short-sleeved shirt.

“Down to the study hall,” Nancy replied with a smile.

• • •

Alice Clark was sitting—just as Nancy thought she would be—in her regular seat at one of the long tables.

“Congratulations,” Nancy said out loud, since they were the only two people there.

Alice looked up from the large book in front of her, which Nancy noticed had diagrams of the human skeleton. “Thanks,” she said, putting the top on her yellow pen.

“Anatomy?” Nancy asked, standing next to Alice.

“Physiology,” Alice said.

Alice's answers were always only one word. Nancy wondered if it was going to be possible to get into a more extended conversation with this very private person.

“Do you mostly study science?” Nancy asked.

“I'm premed.” Alice nodded.

“That must be time-consuming,” Nancy said, sitting down across from Alice.

“I like it,” Alice said. Leafing through her physiology book, she found a page that showed a large drawing of the musculature system. “See these points?” she asked Nancy, pointing to two spots in the neck. “If you press exactly
there,
you can make a person pass out cold.”

“Did you learn that in physiology?” Nancy asked innocently as Alice slowly closed the book. Nancy knew very well about the pressure points in the neck.

“In judo,” Alice answered, looking directly at Nancy.

“I study karate,” Nancy said, meeting Alice's gaze.

“I wondered,” Alice said as two freshman walked into the study hall laughing. Seeing Nancy and Alice, they lowered their voices and put their books down on the back table.

Alice took the top off her highlighting pen and once again began reading the text in front of her.

“See you later,” Nancy said, standing up.

As she headed back up the stairs, Nancy tried to sort out what she had just learned. Alice was
telling her something, she knew, something important about those pressure points.

Was she describing to Nancy how Rina Charles was killed? Was Rina unconscious before she was thrown into the ocean? And if that was the case, how did Alice know it?

Was this a warning of some sort? Nancy wondered. Was the quiet, unassuming Alice Clark a murderer?

I
N HONOR OF
Valentine's Day, Nancy put a red belt on over her denim dress and folded a white lace hanky into her breast pocket when she dressed on Friday morning.

She had not sent Ned a card, and the two-hour time difference made it too late to call him. He'd be in class already. But tonight, Nancy thought, smiling at the picture of Ned she had taken from her wallet, I will call my number-one valentine.

Putting the photograph away and looking in the mirror, Nancy brushed her hair and then picked up the car keys Susan had left for her. It was only eight-thirty in the morning and Susan was still sleeping.

Nancy avoided the dining hall and hurried outside to head to the accounting offices at 4846 Thirty-fifth Street.

Counting on the likelihood that nobody had let the accountant know yet about the election of Alice Clark, Nancy told the receptionist that she was the interim treasurer of Delta Phi and had come to see the sorority's records.

“Ah yes,” said the older woman at the desk. “Ms. Peterson told me you'd be here. Come right this way. I'm Mrs. Haft, and I'll be glad to help you.”

“Thank you so much,” Nancy said. She followed the receptionist around to a file cabinet, and as she looked through folders, Mrs. Haft asked Nancy, “Did you bring this month's bookkeeping, dear?”

“No, I'm sorry,” Nancy answered. “We're just getting things organized again, since the tragedy.”

“Wasn't that terrible?” the kind woman said. “To have that happen to a fine, bright girl like Rina.” Shaking her head, Mrs. Haft said, “I always warn my kids about the ocean. You just can't trust it.” She gave several folders to Nancy as she added, “Not that they listen.” Then she made a beeline to the front desk to catch a ringing phone.

After about thirty minutes of studying the sorority's financial situation, Nancy was about to quit. Nothing looked the least bit suspicious.
Rina, and the treasurers before her, had been well organized and meticulous. And Nancy had no doubt that Alice Clark would be the same.

But as Nancy was about to give up, something caught her attention. Under the page marked “Alumnae Donations,” Nancy had scanned down to the name Marsha Charles. There beside Rina's mother's name was listed the amount of one hundred and fifty dollars. Nancy's heart began to race as though she had just finished the fifty-yard dash. Nancy was certain that Mrs. Charles had told her that she had donated six hundred dollars this year.

“Finally,” she said under her breath.

“What's that?” Mrs. Haft asked, walking by Nancy at that moment.

“Oh, nothing.” Nancy smiled, trying to hide her excitement. “I'll just need to reproduce some of this, please.”

“Right over here, dear,” Mrs. Haft said.

As Nancy carefully ran the papers through the copy machine, she tried to be cautious about her discovery. It's possible that this is only a bookkeeping error, she warned herself.

But her heart wouldn't stop racing, because Nancy knew that it was also possible she had finally found a major clue.

• • •

When Nancy arrived back at the sorority house, Susan had already left for her classes.

Locking the door behind her, Nancy sat down
at Rina's old desk, took out the list of alumnae donations from the accountant's office, and found the information she had copied from the secret file box. Quickly scanning her notes, she looked for the evidence she needed.

There it was! Nancy let out a deep sigh, unaware that she had been holding her breath. Next to Marsha Charles's name was listed the amount she had actually donated—six hundred dollars.

Here was a lead. A concrete lead. The embezzlement of money—maybe a lot of money—and a reason for murder.

A knock on the door startled Nancy, and she quickly put away her paperwork as she called out, “One minute.” But before she could stand up, she heard a key in the door and Susan walked in.

Nancy jumped up, quickly closed the door behind Susan, relocked it, and said in an excited whisper, “We've got a missing piece to this puzzle!”

“Oh, Nancy, finally! Tell me,” Susan pleaded.

“I'll show you,” Nancy said, pulling the papers out of the top desk drawer.

“See this?” Nancy asked, pointing to the sheet she had copied. “This is a listing of all your alumnae donations. It totals ten thousand dollars this year.”

“Pretty generous,” Susan said, looking at the sheet. “Why is it the missing puzzle piece, though?”

“Because
this,”
Nancy explained, pointing to the handwritten list she had copied from the file box, “is the
true
amount that was given. I haven't added it up yet, but look at all these discrepancies.” Her pencil tip ran back and forth. “This person gave one hundred fifty dollars, and the amount submitted to the accountant was twenty-five. And here—”

“And the difference?” Susan said, interrupting Nancy and speaking rapidly. “Who has the money? Did Rina—”

“We don't know. Maybe Rina was in on it, but more likely, she just discovered it and was about to blow the whistle.”

As Nancy reached over to Susan's desk and picked up a calculator, Susan asked, “I wonder why they kept this list of the real contributions.”

“So they could write the contributors thank-you letters for the actual amounts. Only the amount they reported in the official records was a whole lot less. Let's figure out how much less,” Nancy said.

As Nancy called off the differences to Susan, Susan added up the totals.

In only a few minutes Susan had the total. “Fifteen thousand dollars less!” She gasped. “This
must
be it, Nan, this must be what Rina knew.”

“Yes.” Nancy sighed. “Maybe nobody would commit murder for a better grade, but I'm afraid
someone would to keep from being exposed as a thief.”

“Lori?” Susan asked.

“She surely knows about the embezzlement,” Nancy said.

“And maybe this is the reason that Fran Kelly was so desperate to be treasurer,” Susan continued. “And maybe Alice Clark knows now, and—”

“Just because we have this one puzzle piece doesn't mean we know who did it,” Nancy explained. “We're no closer to the murderer. We just have a reason.”

Susan nodded and jumped as someone knocked at the door just then.

“One minute,” Susan called out, and quickly glanced at Nancy.

Nancy put away all the paperwork and took out an SDU catalog before she went to the door.

“I just wanted to make sure you were coming to the party this afternoon,” Lori said as Nancy opened the door. “There's a friend of Mike's coming that I think you'll like. And I'm
sure
he'll like you; I told him about you already.”

Nancy stood at the door talking to Lori as Susan busied herself cleaning up a pile of clothes on her bed. “I don't know,” Nancy confessed, “I really miss my boyfriend today. I was just going to call him and tell him I'll be back home soon.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. You really are welcome
to stay longer, you know,” Lori said. It was hard for Nancy to believe that this warm person knew all about the embezzling.

“Thank you,” Nancy said, still standing in the doorway.

“My friend's name is Peter,” Lori said, backing up, “He's very cute!”

“Thanks.” Nancy smiled. “See you down there later.”

“What is it?” Susan asked Nancy when she saw her leaning against the closed door, the color drained from her face.

“Lori's jacket,” Nancy answered when she was certain that Lori's footsteps were far away.

“What about it?” Susan asked.

“It's the one that Kathy was wearing the night I got hit with the dart.”

S
O WHAT IF
she's wearing Kathy's jacket?” Susan asked curiously. “Everyone borrows clothes around here.”

Nancy shook her head and tiptoed away from the door to speak. “I don't think it's Kathy's,” she said. “I think it's Lori's.”

Susan was even more confused. “I don't get it, Nan.”

“It's a lot of guesses,” Nancy admitted, speaking quickly and quietly. “But I think I'm on to something. Listen.” Nancy sat back down on the desk chair to explain to Susan. “I think that when Kathy went upstairs to get something warm to put on Tuesday night she ran into Lori,
who had perhaps just come in. Kathy told her she was going for a walk with me and asked if she could borrow her jacket.”