High Risk (2 page)

Nancy jumped up. “Maybe we can catch him—” she began, but she broke off suddenly and stared at her boyfriend.

The expression on Ned's face was one of anger as he stared down at the card in his hand. “That crook!” he said. Then he set off for the door.

“Ned, what's going on?” asked Nancy, confused.
She hurried after him, but Ned didn't stop or turn around. He marched up to Toby and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Is your name Foyle?” Ned demanded.

“Yes, why?” Toby looked puzzled.

“You're supposed to be laid up, Mr. Foyle,” Ned snapped. “You had a car accident a month ago, or did you forget?”

“An accident?” Foyle's eyes widened, and Nancy read fear in them.

“You got a hundred thousand dollars in damages, for head injuries your doctor said were so bad you'd be disabled for months. Maybe you forgot that, too,” Ned went on angrily. “But I investigated your insurance claim, and I haven't forgotten.”

“What are you talking about?” Toby Foyle took a step backward. “What accident? What money? You've got the wrong guy, mister!”

Nancy just stared at Ned. Why was he confronting this man, a total stranger, in the middle of their date?

“The wrong guy?” Ned repeated. “I don't think so. You put in a false claim.” Nancy saw Ned's hands clench into fists at his sides as he growled, “You're in deep trouble, Mr. Foyle.”

T
OBY
F
OYLE'S FACE
turned the color of skim milk. “What are you, some kind of lunatic?” he shouted at Ned, putting his hands up protectively. “Get away from me!”

“I'm no lunatic,” Ned said, glaring at Foyle. “But you're a fraud, mister.”

“Ned, please!” Nancy could hardly believe what was happening. Could this furious guy be the Ned Nickerson she knew and loved?

By this time the entire crowd was silent and staring at Ned and Foyle. Suddenly a man in a dark suit burst through the front door. “I'm the manager. What's the trouble here?” he asked crisply.

“The trouble is, this guy is a maniac!” Foyle
cried. He pointed a finger at Ned, and Nancy could see that his hand was shaking. “He tried to attack me!”

“Ned didn't attack anyone,” Nancy broke in, but the manager paid no attention to her. He turned to Ned with an accusing stare.

“Mr. Foyle here has gotten his hands on a lot of money illegally,” Ned insisted. “I happen to know because I'm an insurance claims investigator. He stated he was disabled in a car accident, but he doesn't look disabled to me. I just want to see justice done.”

Foyle was still pale. “I'm telling you, you've got the wrong guy!” he said again.

“Ned, there's got to be more than one Foyle in Mapleton,” Nancy put in urgently.

“Look, I don't care what the gentleman's name is,” the manager said, glowering at Ned and Nancy. “All I know is, he's a guest in my restaurant and you're harassing him.” The manager jabbed a finger at Ned's chest. “I want you out of here
now.”

“But—” Ned began.

The manager cut him off. “Now!” he repeated sternly. “Or do I have to call the police?”

Ned's jaw tensed. “You won't get away with this,” he told Foyle. Then he tossed Foyle's credit card on the floor, turned, and stalked out of the restaurant.

Nancy was shocked and embarrassed by Ned's rude behavior. “I-I'm really sorry,” she murmured to the manager. Then she hurried after
her boyfriend. When she caught up with Ned, he was leaning against her car, scowling.

“What in the world did you think you were doing in there?” Nancy burst out.

“That guy is getting away with fraud!” Ned fumed.

Nancy drew a deep breath. How could he be so sure? “Move aside and let me unlock the car,” she said. “Let's go to your house. We can talk about it on our way.”

Ned went around to the passenger side and climbed in. As Nancy pulled out into the street, she asked, “Don't you think you could have made a mistake about who the guy was? Have you ever met him before?”

“No, not in person,” Ned admitted. “We do most of our investigations by phone. But it wasn't a mistake,” he insisted. “The name on the credit card was the same. T. N. Foyle. I remember seeing it when the claim came over my desk and thinking, T. N. Foyle—I wonder if people call him Tinfoil? How could there be two people in Mapleton with that same name?”

“I don't know, Ned,” Nancy said, frustrated. “But how do you know that guy in the restaurant is even
from
Mapleton? There are lots of other towns around here. The point is, even if it
could
be the same guy, you didn't have enough evidence to go gunning for him the way you did.”

“But I know I was right!” Ned said hotly.

Nancy blew out a breath with a whoosh. “Right or wrong, you still have to build a case—”

“Nan, I know you're a great detective, but please don't lecture me on how to do
my
job,” Ned interrupted. He raked a hand through his hair. “If you think I was wrong, fine. Let's just not talk about it anymore.”

Nancy clamped her mouth shut, feeling stung. Why wouldn't Ned just admit that he'd overreacted? She drove in silence until they reached Ned's street. Then she steered to the curb in front of the Nickerson house and stopped the car.

“Do you want to come in?” Ned asked in a chilly voice.

Nancy was hurt by his tone. “No,” she retorted. “I think this date is pretty much over, don't you?”

“I guess so.” Ned got out of the car and strode across the lawn to his front door.

Nancy watched him go inside. She was still sitting there a minute later when the porch light clicked off.

It was practically pitch-black on the street, thanks to the drooping boughs of the huge willows that lined the sidewalk and blocked the light from the street lamps. Nancy sat in the car for a few more minutes, staring into the darkness and trying to figure out what had gone wrong.

She'd been so happy to see Ned, but he'd hardly paid any attention to her. If only he wasn't on the job all the time, none of this would have happened. Why did he jump all over me when it's obvious he was wrong?

It
was
obvious, wasn't it?

Finally Nancy gave up trying to make sense of the whole incident and drove home.

• • •

Nancy slept poorly that night. When she awoke Friday morning to the sound of a ringing phone, she felt as if she'd barely rested at all. Groggy, she fumbled for the receiver.

“ ‘Lo?” she murmured.

“Nan!” Bess's voice bubbled over the wire. “Rise and shine—it's after ten o'clock! How was your big date last night?”

“Mmmphh.” Nancy groaned as her mind cleared and she remembered what had happened the previous evening. “It was a total disaster.”

“What do you mean?” Bess sounded concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Nancy sat up in bed. “I don't really know. But if you and George come over for brunch I'll tell you all about it. I need advice.”

“We'll be there in a little while,” Bess promised, and hung up.

Nancy looked out her bedroom window, and her spirits rose a bit when she saw that the day was sunny and clear. After showering, she pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of blue shorts, then went downstairs.

The house was deserted. Nancy's father was at his law office, and there was a note from Hannah Gruen, the Drews' housekeeper, on the kitchen table: “Gone plant shopping. Back soon.”

Nancy set to work frying bacon and collecting ingredients for French toast. Soon Bess and
George arrived, and the girls gathered in the kitchen. As Nancy made French toast, she told her friends what had happened the previous night.

“So I don't know what to do,” Nancy finished. “Ned was totally out of line. But for some reason he got mad at
me.
He didn't even say good night. I think he expected me to side with him. But how could I? He was wrong!”

George gave Nancy a sidelong glance as she carried a stack of plates to the table. “Are you sure about that?” she asked.

“What do you mean, am I sure?” Nancy retorted. “He had no proof!” She piled the last slices of French toast on a platter and set it down in front of her friends.

“That coincidence with the names sounds pretty reasonable to me,” Bess ventured, reaching for a strip of bacon.

“Oh, come on, Bess,” Nancy said. “You've done enough detective work to know that a coincidence isn't solid proof.”

“No, it's not, but you've worked with a lot less sometimes when you were solving a case,” Bess pointed out.

“Bess is right,” George put in. She poured syrup over her French toast. “Nan, I hate to say this, but are you sure you're not just a little bit bothered by the fact that Ned's job is a lot like what you do? You're acting as if you are.”

Nancy's blue eyes widened. “You think I'm jealous?” she asked, startled.

George lowered her eyes. “A little,” she replied
after a moment. “I mean, I think we're all agreed that Ned went too far last night. But he could be right about that Foyle guy. I think it wasn't the best idea for you to tell him he was wrong.”

As she listened, Nancy realized that her friends were right. “You're saying I was trying to tell him how to do his job,” she murmured.

“Maybe he sees it that way,” Bess put in hesitantly.

“Right. Give him a little slack,” added George, jabbing a piece of French toast and popping it into her mouth.

Nancy nodded. “I do understand what you're saying,” she said slowly. “The fight we had wasn't all Ned's fault. Even though he acted badly, I shouldn't have come down so hard on him. After all, he's stood by me a billion times when I was following a wild hunch.”

She got up from the table and added, “I'm going to call him right now.” She dialed Ned's office number on the extension in the den so she'd have privacy.

“Ned?” she said when he picked up. “It's Nancy. I wanted—well, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about the way I acted last night.”

“Oh, Nan.” Ned's voice was tender, and Nancy's heart beat a little faster. “I'm the one who should apologize. You were right—I shouldn't have jumped in and accused that guy without evidence. I was just so mad I wasn't thinking straight. But I am now.”

Nancy's spirits soared as Ned spoke. Now he sounded like the old Ned, the one she loved!

“Hey, I never did get dinner at Conchita's,” she said into the receiver. “But I'll settle for any kind of dinner tonight—if I can have it with you, Nickerson.”

“Sounds good. Listen, I have an idea,” Ned began. Then he broke off to speak to someone in his office. “Yeah, I'll be right there.

“I've got to go,” he said, speaking to Nancy again. “How about meeting me here after work? I have a plan for tonight.”

“You're on! I'll be there at—six?” she asked. Ned said that would be okay. Nancy felt happy and relieved as she headed back to the kitchen.

“I think they made up,” Bess commented to George as Nancy floated into the kitchen. “Look at the grin on her face!”

“Yep,” Nancy said. “I think everything is going to be just fine.”

• • •

At five minutes to six Nancy parked in the now-empty employee lot in the back of the Mutual Life annex. She hurried around to the door, went in, and presented herself at the reception desk, where a night guard was on duty.

The elderly man, who knew her by sight, waved Nancy past his desk. “I know Ned'll be glad to see you, young lady,” he said with an indulgent smile. “Just go on up and surprise him.”

“Thanks,” Nancy replied, flashing him a grin. She zipped up the stairs to Ned's department, which was on the second floor of the annex. But
as she breezed into the open conference area in the middle of the department, the cheerful greeting she had been about to utter died on her lips.

Nancy saw Ned's immediate superior, Wally Biggs, standing in the doorway of the office Ned shared with his coworker, Andy Feinberg. Biggs, a plump, oily man in his thirties, was shouting at Ned. Nancy winced as she heard his voice.

“It's the most idiotic, unprofessional thing I've ever heard of, Nickerson!” Biggs yelled. “Do you realize that your behavior in that restaurant last night will have a negative effect on the reputation of this entire company?”

“But I—” Ned tried to interrupt. Nancy craned her neck until she could see her boyfriend over Wally Biggs's shoulder. Ned's face was red, but Biggs wouldn't give him a chance to explain.

“Don't give me any of your excuses,” Biggs ranted on. “I don't want to hear them. I was against giving you such a responsible position in the first place, and now I see that I was right. Well, let me tell you this.” Biggs paused, and Nancy watched his back expand as he drew in a big breath.