063 Mixed Signals (9 page)

Tamara watched tearfully as her boyfriend left with the officers. Then she turned and ran from the oval.

“How awful!” Bess said. “I don’t know about you, but that just made me lose my enthusiasm for the fair.”

“Me, too,” Nancy agreed. “I can’t believe they’ll hold him, though. Anyway, we have to go meet Ned and Jerry for lunch.”

Soon they were sitting with the guys in the student center, their plates piled high with Mexican food.

“I feel sorry for Zip,” Bess was saying as she spooned chili into her mouth, “but I don’t know what to believe—especially since he disappeared right before the masked man struck.”

“What did you say?” Nancy asked suddenly, pausing with a nacho in midair.

“Zip disappeared from the oval,” Bess repeated. “You remember how we saw him walking with Tamara on the way over to the fair? Well, a little while later I saw him jog off along the path beside Ivy Hall. He still hadn’t returned when you ran off to help Josh.”

“So Zip
doesn’t
have an alibi,” Nancy said excitedly, thinking aloud. “This changes everything. Zip could be the masked man.”

“He must be the one behind all these threats!” Jerry said excitedly.

Nancy nodded. “If he worked with Susannah or Tamara, they could get access to the Wildcats’ equipment—and to the weight room.”

Jerry put down his soda and snapped his fingers. “It’s
got
to be him.”

“Whoa, buddy!” Ned said, putting up a hand. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Does he match the description that Josh gave to the police?”

“Perfectly,” Nancy told him, “except for the ski mask, but he could have easily ditched that. Isn’t it funny that Zip didn’t wear his red-and-white Russell team jacket today? It would have stood out more than dark clothing. But if he was planning a crime, his team jacket would have been a dead giveaway.”

Ned bit into a chip with salsa on it, then said, “There’s only one problem. Why would Zip attack Josh when he’s not even going to be playing in the game?”

“I wondered the same thing,” said Nancy. “Maybe the attacker was using Josh to send a message to the whole team. You know, what happened to him could happen to any of them. In any case, I think Jerry’s on the right track,” she continued. “With Zip at the police station, half the case might be solved.”

“What about the other half?” asked Bess.

“That’s our job,” Nancy said with a smile. At last it seemed that the investigation was coming together. “It’s time to pay Tamara Carlson’s room a little visit.”

After lunch the guys headed out to take care of final preparations for the float parade. The wind had died down, and Nancy felt warm as she and Bess went back to Packard Hall.

As they passed through the lobby of the dorm, Nancy spotted Danielle Graves sitting on a sofa in the lounge. She was nose to nose with a football player, who seemed smitten with her fluttering lashes and lilting laughter.

“Did you see that?” Bess whispered as soon as they were in the elevator.

“Looks like Danielle has gotten over Randy,” Nancy said with a smile. “I’m beginning to rule her out as a suspect. There’s no way she could have made that attack on Josh in the library. Besides, we didn’t find anything in her room.”

When they reached the fifth floor, Nancy went straight to Tamara’s door. The door opened on her second knock, and Susannah poked her head out.

“Hi, Nancy. Hi, Bess,” Susannah said. There was a worried look on her face as she ushered the girls into Tamara’s room. Emerson banners and museum posters hung on the walls, and colorful pillows were scattered on the bed. A desk stood against the wall next to the window. “Have you heard?”

Nancy nodded as she and Bess sat on the bed. “We were there when the police came. That’s why we stopped by,” she said, mentally crossing her fingers. “To see how Tamara’s taking it.”

“Not so great,” Susannah told them. “She went down to the police station to wait for Zip. I just hate to see this happen to him.”

As Susannah spoke, Nancy glanced down at the desk. It took her a moment to realize that what she wanted to check was sitting right there. The typewriter!

“And Tarn is so unhappy!” Susannah exclaimed. She shook her head sadly, staring down at the floor.

Nancy took advantage of the opportunity to nudge Bess and nod at the typewriter on the desk.
Type a letter!
she mouthed.

“If there’s anything we can do, just let us know,” Nancy told Susannah.

“Well, we should let you get back to work,” Bess added, getting to her feet. She walked over to the desk and ran a finger along the shiny edge of the typewriter. “Looks like you’ve been doing a lot of typing.”

“Oh, just some correspondence.” Susannah waved at the papers dismissively. “My handwriting is awful, so I type everything. Tarn’s been letting me use her typewriter.”

“Do you think I could use it for a quick note?” Bess flashed Susannah a winning smile. “I have rotten handwriting, too, and I’ve been wanting to write this letter—to my boyfriend, Jerry. It’s sort of a love letter.”

Way to go, Bess! Nancy cheered silently.

Bess picked up a blank piece of paper and slipped it into the typewriter. “I’ll make it short,” she said sweetly.

An amused grin lit Susannah’s face. “Be my guest.”

Pushing down the button to lock in the capital letters, Bess pursed her lips and began typing. Nancy forced herself not to watch while Bess pecked out one line, then two, then three. . . .

“I thought you’d never finish that letter!” Nancy whispered when they had stepped back into their suite and closed the door.

“I got carried away,” Bess said with a sheepish grin.

Nancy sat down on the couch and glanced down at the two threatening notes that still lay on the coffee table. Then, holding out her hand to Bess, she said expectantly, “Well?”

“Read it and weep!” Bess giggled as she handed Nancy the note.

The first words were “DEAREST JERRY.” Nancy’s heart pounded in anticipation as she compared the
E
’s to those in the threatening notes.

“They don’t match,” she announced, fighting back disappointment. “The typeface on Tamara’s machine is more angular, and the
E
is solid.” She frowned as she looked up at Bess. “Chances are, these hate letters did not come from Susannah or Tamara. Unless they have access to another typewriter, and that’s pretty unlikely.”

“So what does it mean?” Bess asked.

Shrugging, Nancy said, “I doubt Zip could have managed all those attacks on his own, which means my biggest suspects are probably innocent. I’ve got to do some more digging!”

“That’s all very interesting,” Bess said impatiently. “But what about my note? You didn’t even read it!”

Nancy took a closer look:

DEAREST JERRY,

MY LITTLE SNICKERDOODLE!

WILL YOU EVER KNOW HOW I LOOOOOVE YOU SOOOO?

WHENEVER I SLEEP, I DREAM OF YOU . . .

“You’re too much, Bess!” Nancy laughed, unable to read any more of it.

“Aren’t I?” Bess said proudly. “Personally, I think it’s a masterpiece.” She reached for the note, but Nancy tugged it away.

Her blue eyes sparkled as she said, “Really? And how would you feel if I passed this masterpiece along to dearest Jerry?”

“Nancy, you wouldn’t!” The color drained from Bess’s face.

“No, I guess not,” Nancy relented, handing the note back to Bess. “We’d better get going,” she added. “Ned will kill us if we’re late for the parade.”

“Wow!” Bess exclaimed a half-hour later. “The floats look so huge! Like giant toys.”

She and Nancy were sitting on a low brick wall along the homecoming parade route. The street was lined with students, people from nearby towns, and alumni of all ages.

Nancy stared up at the float that was passing in front of them, a fifteen-foot-high globe of the world that actually turned on its axis. “They are pretty amazing.”

“Here comes the drill team float. Look at the roses!” Bess jumped up and pointed at the giant cake. “My design looks fabulous, doesn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Nancy agreed. She waved at Kristin Seidel as the blond girl marched by in her purple-and-orange majorette’s uniform.

“Hi!” Bess joined in, waving an Emerson pennant that she had bought.

The drill team’s giant cake disappeared around a corner and was followed by a bagpipe band. Then came the float bearing the homecoming king and queen.

“Those thrones are great,” Bess commented, pointing to decorated golden chairs on the float. Behind the thrones were trellises threaded with real roses.

“And Jerry was right. The king does have to wear purple tights!” Nancy added with a laugh.

The next float was built by the football team and displayed a huge replica of a football. Nancy shook her head as the papier-mâché-and-wood model rolled down the street.

Anchored to a raised platform behind the giant football was a goalpost. Sitting on the goalpost’s crossbar was Randy Simpson, his legs swinging freely in the air.

This was the first time Nancy had seen Randy since his accident. He seemed to be fine and was grinning easily as he waved at the cheering bystanders. The rest of the team hailed the crowd from the edges of the float.

“I think he sees us!” Bess jumped up and waved her pennant as Randy tossed them a salute.

Randy’s expression changed a moment later, though, when the goalpost began to wobble as the float came to a corner. The color drained from his face as the raised platform began to rock back and forth.

“Oh, no!” Bess shrieked.

Nancy gasped. “It’s going to fall right off the float!”

When the tractor and flatbed rounded the corner, the giant football tilted to one side and the raised platform lurched to the edge of the float. Randy lost his balance and slid off the crossbar but managed to grab it with his hands. He held on to the wildly swinging goalpost, but he couldn’t stop its downward plunge.

Before any of the other players knew what was happening, the goalpost toppled off and crashed onto the street with a sickening crunch, taking Randy with it!

Chapter Thirteen

H
ER HEART
in her throat, Nancy jumped down from the wall she and Bess had been sitting on.

“Poor Randy!” Bess cried, but Nancy was already halfway around the corner. She was only dimly aware of the shrieks from the crowd, her attention focused solely on getting to Randy. Pushing past the crowd that had gathered around the disabled float, Nancy rushed over to the mangled goalpost on the street. The giant football had fallen on top of it.

“Randy!” she called.

“Where is he?” Bess cried, right behind her.

At last Nancy heard Randy’s muffled voice. “I’m under here!”

The football players joined Nancy and Bess, and they all tugged at the football and the goalpost. Randy was curled in a ball underneath them, his arms wrapped protectively around his head.

“I’m okay,” he gasped, crawling out onto the street. He stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans, while his teammates pressed forward with concerned expressions.

“That was some fall!” Bess exclaimed.

Randy nodded, breathing deeply. “That’s for sure. Luckily, one of the first things a quarterback learns is how to take a tumble.”

Glancing up, Nancy saw that the parade was continuing despite the accident, moving around the Wildcats’ ruined float. The tractor driver had pulled his vehicle off to the side, and now he came rushing over to them.

“I don’t know how that happened,” the short, rotund man said, obviously flustered. “Are you okay?” he asked Randy. “I nearly died when I heard that thing land. I don’t get it. We weren’t going that fast when we took that corner.”

Nancy had been so worried about Randy that she hadn’t even thought about that. Now that she did, something seemed very wrong about the whole accident. “The float started rocking
before
the turn,” she pointed out.

Randy nodded. “It never did seem stable, but I just figured we were hitting lots of bumps.”

Nancy tuned out the noise from a group of clowns that was parading by. Walking along the perimeter of the cracked football, she checked the holes that were drilled along its edge. “These were used to attach the football to the platform, right?”

The tractor driver nodded. “There are six studs on the platform. The studs go through those holes, and a bolt is secured on top to keep it in place.”

“That’s strange.” Nancy sifted through the wreckage of the float until she found a metal bolt. “Is this one of the bolts?” she asked, holding it up.

“Yeah,” the driver replied, scratching his head. “But there should be five others.”

Nancy stared at the bolt. “I wonder what happened to them?”

While colorful floats curved around them, Nancy, Bess, and Randy carefully sifted through the wreckage of the float. They checked the road and the flatbed, but they didn’t find any of the other bolts.

“Someone must have removed them,” Nancy told Randy, frowning.

“That’s what I figured,” Randy mumbled, tugging angrily on the end of his football jersey. “But you know what? I’m not afraid anymore. I’ve had it with this creep! He made me look so bad with those pills.” His dark eyes were sincere as he added, “I don’t take drugs, Nancy! Honest. I’m not about to screw up my life that way.”

“I believe you, Randy,” Nancy assured him. “But you’re still in danger—now more than ever. The person who wants Emerson to lose tomorrow is obviously not going to stop these attacks. And the game is less than twenty-four hours away! With time running out, I’m afraid our culprit might resort to even more desperate measures.”

She put a hand on Randy’s shoulder, saying, “It’s time to get more help from the college administration.” Checking that no one could overhear, Nancy lowered her voice and told Randy about her investigation.

She finished up, “I need to do a thorough check of all the players on Emerson’s team. If Dean Jarvis can help me cut through some red tape, I might have a chance to get this thing solved before tomorrow’s game.”