Into Thin Air (12 page)

N
ANCY RECOGNIZED THE VOICE
instantly. It was Hal Slade!

“What do you want?” she asked, unpleasantly aware of his fingers pressing into her skin.

Slade relaxed his grip slightly. “Don't act innocent,” he growled, showing his teeth. “I've been onto you for quite some time.”

“What do you mean, ‘onto' me?” Nancy said.

“I spotted you following me out of the landfill,” Slade snapped. “I'm a private eye, remember? Now, are you going to drop this business or aren't you?”

“It's too late,” Nancy shot back. “Especially now that the police are involved again.”

“Let me tell you something,” he said, giving her a twisted little smile. “I don't believe for a minute that Christopher Johnson is still alive, but one thing I do believe—there's a whole lot of cash out there somewhere, just waiting for somebody to find it. And that somebody is going to be me, not some wet-behind-the-ears amateur detective. Got that?” He let go of her neck.

Nancy's mind was whirling. “Let me see if I understand you,” she said. “All you care about is the cash?”

“That's right,” Slade snapped.

“So if I nail Johnson, that's okay with you?”

“You can't nail a corpse—especially when it's in a million pieces.” Slade laughed.

“Still,” Nancy persisted. “If I do find him?”

“You can have him, for all I care,” Slade said. “Just stay away from the money. If you don't, I'll take care of you. For good!” He reached for the door handle. “Remember that.” After he got out, he slammed the car door.

Breathing heavily, Nancy hightailed it out of the parking garage. Back on the road, with Brewster growing smaller in her rearview mirror, her thoughts began to come together.

She went over and over Hal Slade's remarks. She had believed that Slade was Johnson's accomplice, but when Slade threatened her, he
seemed genuinely convinced that Johnson was dead.

Slade would have been the perfect accomplice, but it seemed it wasn't Slade—so who could it be? Someone Mark had never even mentioned, maybe?

Suddenly Nancy thought of the dark-haired woman from the auction house. That story had all but slipped her mind until now. Maybe she should tell Mark about it, though. If there was a woman at Crabtree with long, dark hair, then maybe she was the one they were after.

Back in River Heights, she drove to the pizza place. Bess and George were waiting for Mark, and Nancy sat them all down and filled them in on her excursion.

“Slade! Hey,” Mark said. “Do you think it was Slade who ransacked my apartment? I mean, now that we know he was the one who bought the desk and hired the thugs who broke it apart.”

“Gee, Nancy,” Bess said, “Do you think so?”

Nancy nodded slowly. “It makes sense. If he was looking for a clue to the missing cash in the desk, he didn't find it. Maybe he thought Mark had found it first.”

“I didn't,” Mark lamented.

“That's right,” Nancy said. “But whoever ransacked your apartment didn't know that.”

“Well, the money wasn't in the desk. Or Mark's apartment,” Bess said.

“I'm not so sure it wasn't in the desk,” Nancy said. She went on. “Remember, George, I told you how the auctioneer said a dark-haired woman had gotten there before us?”

“Right!” George gasped. “So you think that woman might have found it in the desk before the auction started and walked off with it?”

“That's what I'm thinking,” Nancy replied. “I'm also thinking that the dark-haired woman might be Johnson's accomplice. Any ideas who it might be, Mark? Is there anyone at Crabtree who matches that description?”

Mark's brows came together, and his lips pursed. “Amanda George, maybe. She's one of the assistants Slade put on the case. But I don't know—Amanda doesn't seem like the criminal type.”

“You never can tell, Mark,” Nancy said. “Very sweet people have committed murder.”

Suddenly she gasped. It had just occurred to her that there was one name they kept leaving out—one person who was in an excellent position to act as Johnson's accomplice. In fact, it was so obvious she couldn't believe she'd missed it.

“Linda Bates!” she said aloud.

“Linda?” Mark looked startled. “Don't be
crazy, Nancy! She'd never do that! Besides, she's blond, and we're looking for someone with brown hair.”

Nancy sighed. Mark was so hopelessly in love with Linda that he'd never think anything bad about her. “A wig would change her hair color, Mark,” she pointed out. “Let me put it this way. On occasion, you do confide in her, don't you?”

Mark was taken aback. “I—I suppose I do,” he admitted. “But—Linda?”

Although Nancy didn't say anything to Mark, her newfound suspicions about Linda seemed more and more justified. For one thing, Linda's behavior toward Mark wasn't very consistent. When she'd talked to Nancy, she put Mark down and made it clear that she didn't want to see him.

But when Mark had refused to drop the Johnson case, Linda had arranged for him to stay with her aunts. And according to Mark, they talked on the phone all the time. Maybe she had asked the Bradford sisters to keep an eye on him as well.

“I'll tell you what I think,” Nancy said to her friends. “I think Linda Bates and maybe her aunts, too, are in this up to their necks. We'd better have a chat with those nice little old ladies—right now.”

The four of them piled into the car and soon Nancy was pulling up at the curb in front of
the Bradford house. The sisters were not out on the porch. They climbed the steps to ring the bell to their ground floor flat.

“Hey, look at this!” said Bess, pointing to an envelope taped to Mark's front door. It said Mark Rubin on the front.

Mark tore it open and read the note out loud.

Dear Mark,

Please forgive us for leaving on such short notice. We didn't know until today that we were going abroad, but sometimes things happen fast! When your apartment was broken into we were upset. Linda must have seen how frightened we were, because this morning she came over with airline tickets for us! We're off to the South Pacific, can you believe it? We'll be back in two weeks. Please give the rent check to Linda. And could you water the geraniums? Thanks.

The letter was signed Frances Bradford.

Nancy was as startled as the others. “I guess Linda wanted her aunts out of the way so they couldn't answer any questions,” she said.

Mark put the letter in his pocket and sighed deeply. His face registered his hurt. “I should have seen this coming. I guess I'm just not cut out to be a detective. Oh, well. I'll water the
plants, at least.” He disappeared inside his apartment.

Nancy shook her head and sat down in Frances Bradford's chair to think. Bess and George plopped down next to her on the glider.

George looked at Nancy. “Well?”

“Well,” Nancy began, “Johnson always seems to be one step ahead of us, doesn't he?”

“So Linda must be his accomplice,” Bess said.

“It sure makes all the pieces fit, doesn't it?” Nancy said. “Let's go over it—Johnson knows an investigation is about to start, so he plants Linda at Crabtree and then hires the agency to do the investigation. When Mark stumbles onto him, Johnson sets up his escape and fakes his own death.”

Bess and George listened closely.

“Now,” Nancy continued, “Johnson thinks he's safe—that is, until that crazy Mark Rubin keeps pursuing the case. Johnson has Linda set Mark up somewhere where they can keep an eye on him until he calms down. But he doesn't calm down. Worse, he spots Johnson downtown one day and brings Nancy Drew in on the case.”

“So far so good,” George said, nodding.

“What happens next?” Bess looked spellbound.

“Now it gets a little fuzzier,” Nancy had to
admit. “But here goes: Johnson must be hanging around River Heights for a reason, otherwise he'd be out of the country already, right?”

Bess and George nodded.

Nancy went on, speaking slowly. “Maybe what was in the desk was something he needed—like a key to a safety deposit box. A safety deposit box filled with a million dollars. Johnson can't get the money out without the key.”

“Why would he have left the key in his desk?” George asked.

“I don't know,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “But for whatever reason, before he faked his death, he couldn't go back to his apartment to get it. And afterward the police had sealed it off.”

“Hey, that makes sense!” Bess said, her eyes lighting up.

Nancy nodded. “The way I see it, the dark-haired woman—Linda in a wig—took the key out of the desk at the auction hall. That's why Slade didn't find it.”

George frowned. “How did Slade know about the key? A lucky guess?” Nancy nodded.

“That would mean that Johnson and Linda have the key now,” George pointed out. “So why haven't they left town?”

“I don't know,” Nancy said. “If this whole theory is solid,” she added, “then Johnson has had the key since the night of the auction.”

Nancy massaged her eyes, trying to clear her mind, The three girls looked up as Mark shuffled back out onto the porch, a watering can in his hand. He silently started watering the flowers;

As Nancy watched, she remembered one of the Bradford sisters telling her that Linda had bought them the planter of flowers. Something about it was nibbling at her memory. Then it came to her.

She formed a mental picture of the moment she'd come downstairs with the Bradford sisters, the day Mark's rooms had been ran-sacked. Linda was in the house making tea. There'd been dirt on the porch floor, and Marie had lamented that she had spent all morning sweeping. . . .

Nancy snapped to attention. She jumped up; Pushing Mark aside, she bent over the flowers and dug her fingers into the wet soil.

“W-what?” Mark sputtered, standing aside;

George and Bess exchanged glances. “What are you doing?” George ventured.

“Give me a minute,” Nancy said impatiently.

It didn't take her long to retrieve her prize—a plastic film canister containing a small key. There was a bank logo on it—the same bank Nancy had visited the other day. “The key to Johnson's safety deposit box!”
Nancy announced, holding it up for them all to see.

“Oh, boy,” Mark murmured.

“This proves that Linda is Christopher Johnson's accomplice, Mark,” Nancy said levelly. “I'm afraid there's no doubt about it now.”

He nodded sadly.

“I don't get it, Nan,” George said. “Why did she hide the key here?”

Nancy smiled. “Because Slade was looking for it. Maybe she was afraid he was onto her. And he'd already looked here when he tore Mark's apartment apart. He wasn't likely to come back and look again.”

“But why haven't Linda and Johnson come for it yet?” Bess wondered.

Mark gave a little laugh. “Probably waiting for their passports to come in the mail. You know how slow the government is—”

Nancy gasped. “Mark! You're a genius!” she cried out.

Mark blinked. “I am?” he said.

Nancy patted his shoulder. “Yes, you are. Remember the forger? Artie Wilson?”

All three nodded their heads.

“This completes the picture. Johnson hired Wilson to forge new passports for him and Linda. But Wilson violated his parole and got thrown in jail before he could finish! That
would explain why Linda and Johnson didn't leave town after they'd gotten the key. Linda hid it here to keep it safe till Wilson is released and can finish their fake passports. Then she and Johnson will come for the key, pick up the money, and vanish!' ”

“Nancy,” Bess exclaimed. “When was that forger supposed to get out of jail, anyway?”

“Friday at five
P.M
.,” she recalled. “Today!”

Bess shrieked. “It's three-thirty now!”

“Come on, Mark.” Nancy slipped the key into her pocket and grabbed his arm. “We're going to meet Wilson at the prison gate. If we dog his footsteps he'll have to lead us to Johnson!”

“Hey, what about us?” Bess called after them. She and George stood waiting on the porch.

“Wait at George's,” Nancy told them. “Four people tailing one guy is too many—we'd give ourselves away.”

Getting into the car, Nancy and Mark sped off toward the jail.

“Wait here, Mark,” Nancy instructed as they pulled up outside. “I'll find out where prisoners are released so we can get into position and tail Wilson.” She went up to the desk and made a discreet inquiry about Artie Wilson.

“I'm sorry, miss,” the clerk said. “When prisoners are due out on Friday afternoon we
usually let them out early. Artie Wilson was gone at three o'clock. You just missed him.”

Nancy stood still for a moment, too stunned to react. If Johnson, Linda, and Wilson had already met up, where would they go? To get the key to the safety deposit box at the Bradford house, of course!

Nancy ran back out to the car. “Come on!” she cried. “We can still catch them, but we haven't got a moment to lose!” She gunned the engine, and they drove back to George's house.

To her surprise, the cousins weren't there. Nancy and Mark looked at the Bradford sisters' house. Bess and George were not on the porch.

Nancy's heart was pounding. Something was wrong. Then she spotted the note, pinned to the door with a penknife.

Mark worked the knife free and read the note out loud.

“ ‘We've got your friends. Do as we say and they won't get hurt.' ”

“George and Bess!” Nancy said, putting her hands to her face. “They've been kidnapped!”