High Risk (13 page)

“Where's my scoop?” Brenda demanded. “I haven't heard anything from you in three days, Nancy. I know you've been avoiding me. What's wrong, can't you solve this case?”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “Brenda, I just need a little more time,” she replied, forcing the annoyance out of her voice. “I'm really close, I swear.”

“Close isn't good enough,” Brenda snapped. “I put my story on hold for you, Nancy. Now I want something hot in return. I want a smoking gun!”

That's what I want, too! Nancy thought. Direct proof of Meyers's guilt. “I'll get it,” she said aloud. “I'll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“You'd better.”
Click!
Brenda had hung up.

Sighing, Nancy went back to the table.

“Who was that on the phone?” her father asked.

“Oh, just Brenda Carlton,” Nancy said.

“Did you tell her you'd solved the case?” Ned asked eagerly.

“No. Um, Ned, it's not quite solved yet.” Nancy winced as she saw the unhappiness in his brown eyes. “I mean, we only need a little more evidence,” she hurried on. “We're almost there, but when we present the facts, I want to be sure that no one can argue with them.”

“I see,” Ned said heavily. “I guess we celebrated a little too soon, huh?”

“Not at all,” Carson said in a hearty tone. “We've certainly got something to celebrate. With what Nancy has found out so far, I'm sure I could convince the jury that there's reasonable doubt in your case.”

“Reasonable doubt?” echoed Bess. Hesitantly she asked, “Is that enough?”

“No,” Nancy replied firmly. “No offense, Dad, but reasonable doubt is not good enough. There has to be no doubt at all. I
have
to clear Ned. It's the only way he can put this all behind him and get on with his life.”

After that the life seemed to go out of the dinner party. A little while later Ned asked Nancy to take him home. Seeing the slump of his shoulders, Nancy felt bad, but there was nothing she could do.

They rode in silence back to Mapleton. Nancy searched for something to say that would cheer Ned up, but nothing came to her—until, at last, she was struck by an idea.

“I'm not going to come into the house with you,” she told Ned as she pulled up in front of his home. “I want to stop off and ask Toby Foyle's landlady, Mrs. Godfrey, a question, and I should do it before it gets too late.”

“Do you have a new lead?” Ned asked hopefully.

“Could be. I'll let you know.” Secretly, Nancy crossed her fingers and hoped something would come of it. She kissed Ned goodbye, then drove
over to Beechwood Street. After climbing out of her battered Mustang, she hurried up the steps and rang Mrs. Godfrey's doorbell.

“I'm sorry to bother you so late,” Nancy said when Mrs. Godfrey opened the door a crack. “I just want to ask you one question.”

“It's no bother,” Mrs. Godfrey said. She held the door open and gestured for Nancy to come in. “I told you before that I'd like to help your young friend if I can. What's your question?”

Nancy followed Mrs. Godfrey into the living room and took a seat while the elderly woman switched off the television set.

“Mrs. Godfrey, I want you to think back to the morning Toby Foyle was killed,” Nancy said once the older woman was seated in an easy chair. “Think carefully. Before he left, did he say anything to you about where he was going or whom he might be meeting?”

“No.” Mrs. Godfrey frowned. “The police already asked me that question. Mr. Foyle went out and slammed the door, the way he always did. I do remember being surprised that he was up so early. Usually he didn't stir before ten.”

Nancy's heart sank. It didn't look as if this line of questioning was going to get her very far. “Did anyone call or come by?” she asked.

“No one.”

Nancy decided to ask one last question. It was a long shot, but worth a try. “Did you ever hear Mr. Foyle mention anyone named Meyers?” she asked without much hope.

Mrs. Godfrey rubbed the bridge of her nose
thoughtfully. “Meyers. Meyers. The name does ring a bell,” she said.

“Really?” Nancy leaned forward excitedly. “How? Please try to remember, Mrs. Godfrey. This could be important.”

“I'm sorry, I—Wait a moment! Now I remember.” Suddenly Mrs. Godfrey sat upright in her chair. “A call came in on my telephone line. A man named Meyers called for Mr. Foyle on Friday evening, right before Mr. Foyle went out. Let's see, that would have been about a quarter to seven. Yes, that's right. I remember it because I was annoyed that Mr. Foyle was still getting calls on my line, even though he'd gotten his own phone more than a week before. But I suppose he's still listed in the book as having my number.”

“Did Mr. Foyle say anything unusual during the conversation?” Nancy pressed.

Mrs. Godfrey pressed her lips into a thin line. “I'm not in the habit of listening to other people's conversations,” she said disapprovingly.

If only you were! Nancy thought to herself. She was sure that Meyers had called to set up his meeting at the warehouse with Foyle. But Mrs. Godfrey's story wasn't good enough. It was another link, but it wasn't the one that would complete the chain of evidence against the doctor.

Then suddenly Nancy remembered something that made her blue eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Meyers had Foyle's new number,” she muttered. “I found it in his desk drawer.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Godfrey said, looking confused.

Realizing she had been talking out loud to herself, Nancy explained, “I happen to know that Meyers had Foyle's new number. So why would he call the old one?”

Mrs. Godfrey shrugged. “Maybe he didn't have the new number with him,” she suggested.

“Maybe,” Nancy agreed. But there was something else about the setup that bothered her. Why would Meyers give his own name if he was calling to set up a murder? Did he just assume that no one would remember the call later on? Or could it be that the call had been innocent after all?

Still pondering, Nancy thanked Mrs. Godfrey, said goodbye, and went out to her car.

She was standing by the driver's door, fumbling in her purse for her keys, when the roar of a nearby engine made her jump. Looking over her right shoulder, she was almost blinded by the headlights of an approaching car.

That car's coming awfully fast, Nancy thought. In the next instant, she realized that the car was aimed straight at her!

N
ANCY LOOKED
frantically around for a place to escape, but in the narrow street, there was nowhere to go! Desperate, she threw herself onto the hood of her car. Just as she pulled her legs up, she felt a rush of air as the other car sped past.

Her heart was hammering so loud she was sure anyone who lived on the block could hear it. Nancy continued to lie facedown for a second, hugging the hood of the Mustang. Then she slid off the car and ran out into the middle of the street. If she could only get the license number or make of the car!

It was long gone, though. Nancy could barely make out its taillights several blocks away. As she watched, the tiny red lights were swallowed up by the darkness.

Taking a big, calming breath, Nancy stepped up to her car. Someone really wants me to back off, she thought. And whoever it is is scared enough to take risks to stop me. That means I must be close!

It could have been Dr. Meyers, she reasoned as she drove home. He lived only two or three blocks away. Maybe he had spotted Nancy going into Mrs. Godfrey's, rushed home for his car, driven over to Beechwood, and waited for Nancy.

Of course, it was an amazing coincidence that he just happened to see Nancy in the seconds it had taken her to get from her car to Mrs. Godfrey's door. Still, that must be what had happened.

“It's the only thing that makes sense!” Nancy exclaimed aloud. She was getting annoyed with herself. The mistake about Michelle Ferraro was making her worry so much about leaping to conclusions that she was beginning to doubt the facts!

Scowling in the darkness after getting into her car, Nancy popped a cassette into her tape player and pushed the tiny voice of doubt firmly to the back of her mind.

• • •

By Wednesday, though, Nancy's doubts had grown. She had hoped to get her slashed car seat replaced in an hour, but as it turned out, she spent nearly four hours at the auto body shop. While she waited, she thought of two more flaws in her case against Dr. Meyers.

First, there was the question of how he had slashed her car seat. How could he have known where to find her? Nancy didn't believe coincidence could have brought him to the exact spot where she was. That was stretching things too far.

The same question had to be asked about the fire at her car on Monday night. How had he found her at Ned's house?

Nancy's thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the auto repairman. “Okay, we got your seat fixed, Ms. Drew,” he said. “Sure you don't want to leave the car here for a new paint job?”

She stood up and pulled out her wallet. “Thanks, but I can't spare the time right now,” she said. Then, patting the Mustang's hood fondly, she added, “I'll be back in a couple of days, though, and then you can give this baby whatever it needs.”

It was a warm, hazy day, and the air held the promise of rain. Nancy pushed sticky strands of reddish blond hair off her face as she drove. She stopped by Bess's house to see if her friend was home, but Bess's mother told her both Bess and George were spending the day with their grandmother.

Nancy let out a sigh of disappointment as she got back into the car. She had really been hoping to talk the case over with her friends to get it clear in her mind. Time was running out, and she still hadn't cleared Ned.

When Nancy got home, she was dismayed to see a dark-haired figure sitting on her front porch. Just what I need, she thought glumly.

“Brenda!” she called, trying to put some warmth in her voice. “I was just going to call you.”

“Tell me another one,” the reporter snapped. “You never did call me this morning, even though you promised you would.”

“I was about to,” Nancy protested weakly.

“Well, it's nearly two o'clock. I don't call this morning anymore. Look, Nancy, I'm tired of chasing you. Where's my scoop?” Brenda whined. “Am I going to have to solve this case for you?”

Fat chance! Nancy said to herself. But aloud she merely replied, “I'm almost there.”

Brenda scowled. “I don't believe you,” she challenged. “You're stuck. In fact, I don't think you know anything more than you knew the day Ned was arrested!”

“That's not true!” Nancy retorted.

“All right, then, prove it,” Brenda flung back. “Tell me exactly what you do know. Otherwise I'll write a very unflattering piece on Ned.”

Nancy closed her eyes in total frustration. Brenda was so irritating that she wanted to shake her!

“Fine,” Nancy said at last. “But you'd better not print what I'm about to tell you. I can't prove it yet, and you don't want to get sued for libel, do you?”

Brenda looked smug. “Don't worry about me.”

Nancy reluctantly invited Brenda in, and the
two girls went into the kitchen. Hannah was out, and Carson was at work, so the house was empty.

Nancy poured herself and Brenda tall glasses of lemonade. Then, taking a deep breath, she told Brenda about the whole case, detail by detail.

“The problem is, I can't prove Dr. Meyers actually went to the warehouse on Saturday morning,” she concluded. “I can prove that he
could
have gone, but my dad says that won't be enough, with the evidence against Ned. And there are those little holes, too. I'm sure there's a way to prove the whole thing and get Meyers arrested, but I haven't found it yet.”

Brenda had been writing down everything Nancy said. Now she snapped her notebook shut and said darkly, “Want to know what I think?”

Nancy didn't, really, but knew it would be rude to say so. “What?” she asked.

“I think you're completely wrong,” Brenda announced. “Meyers didn't kill that guy. But you keep trying to prove he did because you can't face the truth about your boyfriend, Nancy. You can't admit that Ned is guilty.”

“Brenda!” Nancy was furious.

“It's obvious there's another side to Ned,” Brenda went on. She waved her hands dramatically. “A dark, criminal side. He, Foyle, and Dr. Meyers were in league to steal money from the insurance company. But something went wrong.” She leaned forward over the kitchen table, lowering her voice. “
Very
wrong. They had
a falling-out. Foyle was going to talk, and so Ned killed him.”

Nancy turned away, disgusted. How could Brenda spout that kind of nonsense? The very idea of Ned having a dark, criminal side was totally absurd. Besides which, the
evidence
made Brenda's theory ridiculous. Ned had blown the whistle on the scam—how could he have been involved in it?