Sabotage At Willow Woods (9 page)

Eloise was looking more and more annoyed. “The stationery in my locker does belong to Ms. Meyerhoff,” she added, “so score one for Nancy Drew, I guess. But I didn’t steal it as part of some nefarious plot to scare your cousin. I work as her teacher’s assistant third period, and I write letters for her sometimes. That’s all.”

Ahhhh.
I glanced at Bess and George.
Score one for Nancy Drew
 . . . so why did I feel like this whole experience had been a spectacular failure? I’d upset some perfectly nice-seeming kids. And most infuriating, I was no closer to figuring out who actually
was
harassing Carrie.

Suddenly a bright light turned on outside the house we were standing in front of, blinding all of us. A loud male voice boomed out from behind the light. “Who’s out there? Are those eggs? Eloise Stromberg, is that you again?”

“Oh no,” Eloise muttered, looking around at the dozens of eggs Barney and Jake were holding. “I can’t get caught again. Scatter, guys!”

I didn’t know what to do for a moment, but then
loud footsteps came pounding down the walkway from the house, and Eloise and her friends suddenly took off running in all different directions. Jake and Barney tossed the eggs on the ground, and Jake bolted down a winding driveway across the street. I looked helplessly at my friends.

“Don’t just stand there,” Bess hissed. “Run!”

I ran. Not gracefully or straight, but I ran. I took off down the road and then turned down a narrow alley that was brightly lit at the other end, implying that it let out into another street. I heard footsteps behind me and my heart squeezed, but when I emerged from the alley and dared to look behind me before I took off across a huge green lawn, I saw that it was only Barney running behind me.

“Keep going,” he said panting. “The guy ran down the street this way.”

So I cut across the lawn and then across the street, down a narrow, rocky footpath that led down to the parking lot for a local playground. When we were there, I paused to think about where to run next, and
I felt Barney place a hand on my shoulder. He was still panting, trying to catch his breath.

“Think . . . we’re safe.” He gasped, then collapsed onto the pavement.

I was panting too. I put my hands on my hips and walked back and forth, waiting for my breathing and heartbeat to return to normal. “How will . . . I get home?” I managed finally, casting a nervous eye in the general direction of my car.

“You’ll drive,” Barney said, sounding a little stronger now. “Karlowski . . . he’s caught us before. He chases . . . until he gets tired. Which is, like . . . five minutes. Then he gives up.”

I nodded. “Oh.” Barney looked a little more together now—his breathing was almost back to normal—but he was still sitting on the ground, staring at the pavement. He ran a hand through his hair, wiping the sweat from his brow, and then brought up his other hand and cradled his head. He looked utterly miserable.

“What a night,” he muttered. All his pink-cheeked,
smiley puppyishness was gone, and he looked older, and also tired.

It made me feel terrible.

“Barney, I’m really sorry I lied to you,” I said, meaning it.

He shrugged. “I get why you did it, I guess.” He looked up at me, and there was a spark of playfulness back in his eye. “It’s just my curse to appreciate mysterious women.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

Barney glanced in the direction we’d come and listened for a moment. “I think it’s probably safe,” he said.

I nodded, and together we made our way back up the path, through the alley, and back to our cars. When we got there, Bess’s blond head popped up over the roof.

“We think Karlowski went inside a few minutes ago,” she whispered. “It didn’t look like he even noticed your car.”

George stood up next to her, stretching, and gave Barney an awkward nod. “Hey.”

Barney nodded back. “Well, I’ll leave you ladies,” he said, looking over at his own car. “It looks like most of my passengers are back.” He paused. “Erm . . . I’d say it’s been fun, but actually, it hasn’t.”

I cringed and nodded. “Fair enough. I hope you have a much better tomorrow, Barney. You deserve it.”

He shrugged and turned away. “See you around, I guess.”

I glanced at my friends, and together we all opened up our respective doors and climbed back into the car. I put the key in the ignition, but then just sat there for a moment, sighing. “That,” I said finally, “was not my finest hour of sleuthing.”

Bess reached up from the backseat and patted my arm. “Oh, don’t feel bad, Nance,” she said encouragingly. “The stationery sent us in the wrong direction. We can take another look at the notes, and maybe the box the squirrel was sent in? Maybe that will give us some leads.”

George was staring out the window, and she nodded and turned back to face us. “We’ve definitely been looking in the wrong direction,” she said. “Whoever’s
harassing Carrie, they’re bigger and more dangerous than a bunch of eco-loving high school kids.”

The next day I was desperate to do something worthwhile. So Bess, George, and I all headed down to Carrie’s Boylestown headquarters to volunteer. There was lots to do, because Carrie had to let several staff members go when she realized she couldn’t afford to pay them. The three of us stuffed envelopes, handed out flyers near the busy supermarket, and updated Carrie’s database of supporters. By five I was feeling a lot better and had almost forgotten the disaster that was the night before.

Carrie paid for a pizza for all of us, and we ate it eagerly around the big folding table by the wall.

“It feels like we’re making some headway,” Julia said brightly, looking up from her laptop to take a quick sip of diet soda. “I just confirmed five new friends on Facebook!”

But Carrie’s face remained inscrutable. “Great,” she said sarcastically, pulling the crust off her pizza. “That
almost
makes up for the five hundred or so we’ve lost since the whole recording debacle.”

Julia frowned. “Carrie, you have to stay positive,” she urged.

Carrie put down her pizza and took in a breath. “I’m trying,” she said. “But it’s really hard when the front page of the Boylestown paper looks like this!”

She pulled a
Boylestown Bugle
out from behind the table, and I gasped. There was a photo on the front page from the disastrous dinner, with Carrie standing at the podium, looking horrified as the manipulated recording played.
LOCAL CANDIDATE CAUGHT ON TAPE INSULTING VOTERS,
the headline screamed. In smaller letters, the headline asked,
IS THIS THE END FOR THE KIM CAMPAIGN?

Bess and George looked as surprised as I was. “How long has this been all over the papers?” George asked.

Carrie shrugged. “Since it happened,” she said, folding the paper and putting it back behind the table. “But each time they run another story, we lose even
more donors. It just keeps getting worse and worse. I’m almost out of money, cuz.” She poked at her pizza and groaned. “I really wanted to do something for this town, and especially for those high school athletes. But I’m beginning to think maybe I should quit while I’m ahead.”

Julia jumped up from her seat. “Carrie, no!” she insisted, walking over to her longtime friend. “You can’t just give in like that. You care too much about this town.”

Carrie shrugged. “But does this town care about me?” she asked. “They loved me when I was this big tennis champ. But now—I almost feel like the townspeople want me to move!”

“That’s not true,” Julia said. “Remember the elderly folks we talked to at the senior center yesterday? They loved your idea of bringing elderly volunteers into the schools.”

Carrie blinked, then nodded slowly. “Meeting with them was probably the one good point in my last week,” she agreed.

Julia narrowed her eyes. “And kids still like the sports complex idea,” she went on, as if speaking her thoughts as they came to her, “plus lots of parents. That’s still a really good idea, Car—some yahoo with a squirrel issue notwithstanding.”

Julia seemed to be going deeper and deeper into her own thoughts. Carrie looked over at George, shrugged, and took a bite of pizza. “Too bad good ideas don’t pay the bills,” she muttered, sipping her soda.

Julia’s eyes widened. “That’s IT!” she shouted, loud enough to make us all jump. We looked at her curiously.

“Why can’t a good idea pay the bills?” Julia asked, running back to her laptop and typing furiously. “The sports complex is still the best idea you have. What we need to do is throw a big event to get the town back on our side!”

“A big event?” Carrie asked disbelievingly. “Jules, have you not been listening? We don’t have money to
pay the bills
. Much less throw some big event!”

I looked at my friends and noticed that Bess’s
expression had turned all moony and thoughtful.
Uh-oh.

“She’s right,” said Bess, standing up and smiling in Julia’s direction. “The high school athletes still support Carrie, and the town supports them.”

Julia looked up at Bess like she’d just invented the lightbulb. “That gives me an
amazing
idea!” She stood, throwing her arms out to either side. “What if we throw a joint fund-raiser for the campaign and for the football team? We could split the profits fifty-fifty and have some football players come make speeches in support of Carrie. You know they would, Car. This could totally save your campaign!”

I had to admit, it sounded like a great idea. But when I looked over at Carrie, she still looked hesitant.

“I . . . it’s a good idea, Julia,” she said, looking down at the table and sighing before she turned back to us and went on. “But how am I going to pay for it? I’m going to have to borrow money. And then what if it doesn’t work? Not only is my campaign over, but I’m in debt.”

Julia moved in closer. “Come on, Carrie. It’s a gamble, I know. . . .”

“But it’s a
good
gamble,” Bess put in. She moved closer, nodding her head. “Trust us, Carrie—this is a safe bet. It’s a
really
good idea. If all goes as planned, it could not only save your campaign but get you elected—and isn’t that the most important goal?”

Carrie still didn’t look convinced. But I could see from her thoughtful expression that she was beginning to consider it. “I guess I could ask my dad for a loan. Short-term, to be paid back as soon as the fund-raiser is over,” she murmured, then shook her head and pushed her pizza away. She looked at George. “Cuz, what do you think? You have a good head on your shoulders, and I feel like I’m not in my right mind right now. Is this a good idea, or is it just going to make things worse?”

George looked from Julia’s and Bess’s expectant faces to Carrie’s thoughtful one. Then she smiled.

“It
is
a good idea,” she said. “Athletes love you, and why shouldn’t they? I really think it could save your campaign, Carrie.”

Carrie broke into a wide, bright smile. I couldn’t help but smile too.

“It’s official, then?” Julia asked, pulling her smartphone out of her pocket. “I can start making calls?”

Carrie nodded and stood. “And I should call my dad now. But yes, ladies: It’s
on
!”

We all whooped and cheered, and Julia got right on her computer, searching out the best venue and athletes to contact and caterer to serve.

After the excitement died down, I returned to my job sticking mailing labels on flyers and putting them in a bin to mail. The thrill of a few moments earlier had passed, replaced by a restless, itchy concern. Carrie was borrowing money to throw this fund-raiser, and the last fund-raiser hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. We still hadn’t caught whoever was behind all the harassment.

I sure hope this works,
I thought.

“WELL, WELL, WELL.” MY BOYFRIEND,
ned, stood on our stoop, holding a red rose corsage and with a big smile on his face. He looked so handsome in his gray flannel suit with a tie to match my red shift dress. I grinned at him, leaning in to accept the corsage and a kiss on the cheek. “You
do
clean up well,” he added, smiling even bigger.