The Cheating Heart (7 page)

Paul nodded. “On a different subject,” he continued in a low voice. “Ned invited me to
come to the concert tonight with you and him. I understand that Brook will be coming, too.”

Nancy laughed and was about to tease Paul, but she was interrupted when she saw someone familiar out of the corner of her eye—Steve Groff. He was shouldering his way through the crowded doorway. With his athletic build, he looked constricted in his navy blazer and red tie.

“Name, please?” Nancy asked when he reached her table.

Steve barely looked at her at first. “Groff.
G-R-O-F-F.
Steve Groff,” he said brusquely.

Nancy bent her head and copied his name onto a name tag sticker. As she handed it to him, their eyes met and he did a double take. “You again,” he snorted. “What are you doing, tailing me?”

Paul leaned forward. “Can I help you?” he asked, trying to distract Steve.

Steve focused on Paul and his expression became less guarded. “Didn't I meet you at the English office the other day?” he asked gruffly.

“Oh, yes, I remember,” Paul said, taking Steve by the arm. “I'm Paul DiToma. Can I introduce you around?” He led Steve away.

Nancy kept an eye on Steve and Paul as they crossed the room together. Nancy couldn't hear their conversation over the hubbub, but she could hear the tones their voices took. She could also tell a lot by watching their faces. Paul was feeling annoyed, but tried to speak to Steve
pleasantly. Steve made one short, sarcastic reply. Paul winced and answered Steve coolly.

Boy, this Groff guy is really spoiling for trouble, Nancy thought to herself.

Steve stood a good three inches taller than Paul, and he was at least twenty-five pounds heavier. As their strained conversation built into an obvious quarrel, he used his physical advantage to intimidate Paul, leaning over and jabbing his finger against Paul's chest.

Nancy twisted around in her chair, looking for help. The Omega Chi brothers were on guard for situations like this. She saw Jerry and Rich close in on either side of Steve. Each guy took an elbow, and they steered Steve calmly toward the door, before he could disrupt the party.

At the door Steve twisted around for a parting shot at Paul. “Hey, Mr. Intellectual Snob! You think I'm not good enough for your lousy frat? I wouldn't join Omega Chi if you paid me! You wait until I tell folks what I know about
you.”

Jerry and Rich gave Steve a final heave out the door. Arms crossed, they stood casually on the steps, preventing him from reentering.

Nancy jumped up and left the table to go to Paul's side. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Paul gave his head a shake and then looked at her. “I'm fine.” He smiled weakly. “You think I'd let a crude jerk like that get to me?”

As Paul slipped away through the crowd, Nancy thought he had been shaken by what Steve had
said. What had they been arguing about? she wondered. What did Steve mean when he threatened to “tell” people about Paul? Could this have any connection to the anonymous ad in the
Emersonian?

• • •

By six-thirty the last guests had left the Omega Chi house. As the cleanup committee chased the stragglers out, Ned, Paul, and Nancy went out to meet Brook on the lawn.

The four young people walked across campus to the student center for dinner before the Dillon Patrick concert. By now, the weather had changed dramatically. A cool breeze had sprung up, the first sign of fall. Brook shivered in her short-sleeved dress, and Paul took off his leather bomber jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“I met a friend of yours at our open house, Paul,” Brook mentioned, snuggling into his jacket.

“Really? Who?” Paul asked.

“Annie Mercer,” Brook replied.

Nancy perked up. She couldn't let on that she knew Annie—neither Brook nor Paul knew about her investigation. Still, even though she thought she'd caught her thief, she might learn something useful about another suspect—especially if more than one student had cheated.

Paul was frowning. “Annie Mercer? Oh, yeah, I remember her. I saw her over at Ivy Hall the other day, but I couldn't remember her first
name. I just remembered she was one of the Mercer twins. They were two years behind me in high school.”

“She has a twin?” Brook asked. “I only saw one girl at our party.”

“Oh, the other twin didn't come to Emerson,” Paul said. “I think she went to Yale.”

So both sisters seem to be brains, Nancy thought.

“Well, anyway,” Brook said, giving Paul a sideways glance, “I got the impression that she knew you real well. But when I said I'd be seeing you tonight, she shut up and walked away.”

Paul shrugged. “That's weird. I remember her as super friendly.”

Nancy noticed the slight tightening of Brook's features. She guessed that Brook was trying to figure out whether Paul had any old girlfriends hanging around. Nancy could sympathize with that. But Nancy was interested in other sorts of secrets, and for the second time that day, she wondered uneasily if Paul was hiding something.

“Speaking of weird behavior,” Nancy said, “what was Steve Groff so mad about, Paul?”

“Oh, he's just a guy with an attitude,” Paul said. “I saw him at the English office the other day, trying to talk his way into Professor McCarty's American lit course. McCarty told him no way, that he had to take the core course first. Groff was embarrassed. I was standing right
there, so I tried to explain to him what a tough course American lit would be without the core course as background. Somehow, he took it as an insult—like I was saying he wasn't smart.

“When I saw him this afternoon, he blew up at me,” Paul said. “He said I was trying to discourage him from joining the frat because his grades weren't high enough. As if I knew anything about his grades. I barely know the guy!”

“Groff—one of the coaches mentioned his name to me,” Ned recalled, holding open the door to the student center. “He's supposed to be a hotshot swimmer. I know a lot of athletes are supersensitive about being labeled as dumb jocks, but it sounds like this guy really goes overboard.”

Inside, the grill was full of the preconcert crowd. Brook hung Paul's jacket over the back of a chair to claim a table, and the two couples joined the food line.

As they stood in line, Nancy peeked over Paul's shoulder to see Steve Groff enter. “Paul, it's Steve Groff,” she warned in a low voice.

Steve had already spotted Paul and, with a hostile sneer, he strode toward him. Paul turned, confused, but Ned stepped forward first.

“Hi, Steve,” Ned said evenly, reaching out to shake Steve's hand. “I'm Ned Nickerson. Coach O'Casey told me to look out for you.”

Steve halted, surprised. “He did?”

“Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't see you at the open house,” Ned said smoothly. “I hope we can talk in February, when the real rush season starts.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, see you then,” he muttered. He stood around awkwardly for a moment, then turned and headed off to mingle.

“Nice going, Ned.” Brook smiled.

Ned grinned back. “Who knows—he might make a good frat brother, if he calms down. I don't want to judge him until I have all the evidence.” He shot Nancy a glance full of meaning.

Nancy smiled back. She knew what Ned meant—he understood her reasons for not accusing Carrie Yu. She reached out and squeezed his hand.

Carrying trays full of food, the two couples headed back to their table. Brook set her tray down and leaned over to pick up Paul's jacket, which had fallen from her chair onto the floor.

Brook handed the jacket to Paul and he started to hang it on the back of his chair. Then his jaw fell open and his eyes widened in panic.

“What's wrong, Paul?” she asked.

Silently Paul held up his leather jacket. In thick black felt-tip marker, someone had scrawled THIEF all across the back!

G
AZING AT
P
AUL'S
damaged jacket, Nancy immediately thought of Steve Groff. Though Ned seemed to have diffused the argument between Steve and Paul, maybe Steve had only pretended and this was his way of getting back.

Nancy scanned the crowded room. Steve had been wearing a gray sweatshirt and jeans—the same as several other kids in the room. His distinctive chlorine white hair was nowhere to be seen.

“Steve Groff has vanished into thin air,” Nancy declared.

Paul was still staring at his jacket, clearly sick at heart. “It's ruined!” he groaned.

“Maybe the writing will come out,” Brook suggested, leaning over to study the brown
leather. “Or you could have the leather dyed darker, so the writing wouldn't show.”

Looking up at his friends, Paul gave a feeble grin. “Man, that'll teach me not to spend so much money on one dumb piece of clothing.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself,” Ned said kindly. “You don't throw money around.”

“I haven't
got
any money to throw around,” Paul exclaimed. “I have to save every dime, so I can take next year off to write a novel.”

Nancy noticed Brook's eyes shining with admiration. Nancy had to wonder, though, if Paul needed money so badly, how far would he go to get it? Was that why the graffiti on his coat said
thief?

“I was just thinking, Paul,” Nancy began. “First those personal ads in the
Emersonian,
now this writing on your jacket. Has anything else unusual happened to you lately?”

“Not really,” he answered, biting down into his hero sandwich.

“What about those phone calls, Paul?” Ned reminded him. He turned to Nancy and explained. “Earlier this week Paul got a few strange phone calls. The caller never spoke—he just listened to Paul say hello and then hung up.”

Paul blushed. “Come on, Ned, that was probably just a wrong number.”

“Three in one night?” Ned sounded skeptical.

“Did you notice anything about the calls?”
Nancy asked sharply. “Did you hear any breathing, or background noise, or static on the line?”

Paul shook his head.

“Then it was probably a local call from a private phone,” Nancy concluded.

“Oh, Nancy, you see a mystery in everything,” Brook teased, pointing with a french fry. “It must be an occupational hazard for a detective.”

Paul looked up. “A detective? Are you a detective, Nancy?”

“She's solved all kinds of cases, Paul,” said Brook.

“Do you work with the police or privately?” Paul asked Nancy.

“I just help friends when they get into trouble,” Nancy replied, fending off his questions. “Ned, can you pass me the ketchup?” As Nancy dressed up her burger and started eating, she wondered why Paul had seemed so interested in her work. She hated to think badly of him, but something just didn't seem right to her. Was he afraid she'd uncover some secret he was hiding?

After dinner the girls made a brief stop at the Theta Pi house to change into jeans and pick up sweaters. Then the two couples joined the flow of students heading for the football field, where the Dillon Patrick concert was to be held. Night was falling, but old-fashioned lampposts along the curving paths cast pools of warm yellow light.

Ned drew his arm around Nancy, and she slid
her arm under his letter jacket to circle his waist. “Now that you've caught the test thief, we can relax and enjoy the rest of the weekend,” he murmured into her ear. She thrilled to the feel of his warm breath ruffling her hair.

The moment with Ned was too nice to spoil with reminders that Carrie Yu may very well not be the thief.

The concert was open to all Emerson students and their guests, as a way of showing off the newly renovated football stadium. By the time Nancy and her friends reached the stadium, the stands were nearly full. “I knew we shouldn't have gone back to change our clothes—now we'll be sitting up in the rafters,” Brook groaned.

“I guess we're not the only Dillon Patrick fans,” Nancy said dryly.

Glancing around at the stands, she noticed Annie Mercer nearby staring intently at Nancy and her friends. Her bubbly smile and dimples had vanished, leaving her face oddly fierce and cold.

Then Annie turned away, and Nancy felt Ned tug on her hand. Nancy followed her friends up the aisle steps, but she couldn't get Annie's expression out of her mind.

Which of the four of them had she been staring at? Nancy wondered. She'd been friendly to Nancy when they talked earlier that afternoon. Ned didn't know Annie, so he couldn't be the target of her hostility. Annie knew Paul from
home, but she'd told Brook she was friends with him—and that wasn't the kind of look you give a friend.

Had Brook antagonized Annie at the Theta Pi party? Nancy asked herself. She'd said the girl had acted strangely, but what had really gone on between them?