Hotline to Danger Page 3

  “She was willing to pitch in for the rent just for sleeping on the sofa, so I figured she could stay here awhile. Besides, I work until one in the morning,” she said, pulling a waitress apron from her jacket pocket and holding it up, “and she was gone during the day. So we never even saw each other.”

  “What did she do all day?” Nancy asked.

  Billie shrugged. “How should I know? She met Paul at the community college, but I don’t think she was taking courses there.”

  “Though Paul was taking courses,” Tony said.

  Bess slumped back on the sofa and yawned. “Now can Nancy call the police? It’s getting late.”

  “I’ll say.” George glanced down at her watch. “It’s almost two o’clock.”

  “Police!” Billie snorted. “What for? It’s not like whoever broke in could’ve found anything valuable enough to steal.”

  “I think the break-in might be related to the murder,” Nancy explained. “Someone could have been searching for something.”

  Tony looked puzzled. “Like what?”

  Nancy stood up and began pacing. “I’m not sure. But what if the murderer knew there was a witness? And what if he or she thought it was Rachel?”

  “You mean the murderer was looking for Rachel?” Bess’s eyes widened.

  “Or since they couldn’t find her, they were looking for something to lead them to Rachel.” Nancy stopped in front of the phone. “Whatever happened, we need to call the police. May I?”

  Reluctantly, Billie nodded her head.

  After she’d talked to B.D., Nancy hung up the phone, spun around, and faced Billie. “Any idea where Rachel is now?”

  Billie shook her head emphatically. “Usually when I come in after work, she’s sound asleep on the sofa.” She sighed and pushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Look, I wish I could help you more, but I barely know her.”

  “Maybe someone at the teen center knows her better,” George suggested.

  Tony nodded. “Or Mr. A might have some information that could help us.”

  “Where did Rachel keep her things?” Nancy asked. “That may give us a clue about where she’s gone.”

  Billie pointed to an open door on the other side of the living room. One glance told Nancy that the intruder had carefully searched the small closet, too.

  A suitcase had been emptied onto the floor and all the clothes ripped off the hangers. Nancy glanced quickly at the clothes—they were expensive. Stooping down, Nancy pulled the suitcase closer. It was made of very good leather, and under the handle she noticed that the initials RJT had been embossed in gold.

  A gasp from above caused Nancy to tilt her head up. Bess was standing behind her, looking down at the suitcase.

  “Those are the same initials that were on the bracelet!” she exclaimed.

  “Right. Which is pretty good proof that we’ve found our hotline caller.” Nancy stood up.

  There was a loud rap on the door. “Nancy? It’s B.D.,” a voice called. The detective poked his head into the apartment, then entered, followed by a crime technician and the same two officers who’d been at the railroad tracks.

  “Hey. You didn’t tell me the entire police department was going to come,” Billie accused Nancy.

  B.D. flashed his badge. “Miss, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but if this is related in any way to the murder of Paul Remer, we need to check it out carefully. I’d like you to go through every room with Officer Simpson and see if anything was taken,” he said, gesturing to the policewoman now at his side.

  “Oh, great,” Billie muttered as she slipped off her coat and threw it onto the arm of the sofa. “Just what I want to do at two in the morning.” She headed toward a small hallway off the living room. “Did anyone check my room for damage?” she asked.

  “No,” Nancy said. “We had only gotten to the kitchen when you came in.”

  “If my room looks half as bad as the rest of this place, I’ll be up all night, cleaning,” Billie said angrily.

  Officer Simpson followed her.

  After Billie and the police officer left, B.D. directed the technician to check for any physical evidence and sent the second patrol officer out into the hall to wake up the other tenants and question them.

  “How did the intruder break in?” he asked Nancy.

  “I didn’t even have a chance to check,” she answered.

  Turning around, B.D. scrutinized the door lock. “Pretty flimsy. You could pick it with a paper clip.” He glanced at Bess, George, and Tony, then looked at Nancy, who was standing beside him. “So what’re you guys doing here, anyway? Wasn’t a murder enough excitement for one night?”

  Bess sighed. “It was enough for me.”

  “Me, too,” George agreed.

  “It’s all my fault,” Tony said. “I thought maybe I knew who the hotline caller was.” He told B.D. about seeing Paul Remer around the teen center with a girl. Then Bess and George filled in the rest of the story.

  B.D. frowned. “So you thought you’d check it out instead of telling me?”

  “We’d already left the warehouse when I thought of it,” Tony said, then looked at Nancy for help.

  “I decided not to bother you unless we found something,” Nancy said, crossing her arms over her chest. When the detective remained silent, she said, “Look, B.D. We think we have proof our caller lives here.” Nancy waved her hand toward the closet. “The initials on the suitcase match the ones on the bracelet. The girl’s name is Rachel Thackett, and my guess is the place was ransacked right after the murder.”

  “Hmm.” B.D.’s frown disappeared as he strode to the closet and checked out the suitcase. Then he turned to face Nancy. “So you think Rachel saw whoever murdered Paul and the killer saw Rachel?”

  Nancy nodded. “Which means if the killer knows where she lives, he or she obviously knows who she is. That must be why Rachel didn’t come back here. And unless she has a good place to hide, I’d say she’s in big trouble.”

  “That’s for sure,” B.D. agreed. “Especially since the murder looks like the work of the Nighthawks. They know the area well enough that they wouldn’t have much trouble tracking her down.”

  “So you’re sure the gang was responsible?” Tony asked the detective.

  “Not a hundred percent. But I called the detective who keeps track of the gangs. It seems that Paul Remer was a member of the Night-hawks until about a month ago when he went to the police with some information about Kip DiFranco, the Nighthawks’ leader.”

  Tony frowned, and B.D. went on. “Kip had been linked to a recent break-in at a drugstore in the area. But Kip had had an alibi for the night of the burglary, so he was released. A few days later, Paul came in and told the police he could prove Kip was lying about his alibi. Paul’s information led to Kip being arrested again.”

  “Whew.” Nancy gave a low whistle. “Was Kip charged?”

  B.D. shook his head. “No. The drugstore clerk didn’t pick Kip out of the lineup, so he was set free. But, according to the cops in the area, that doesn’t mean DiFranco wasn’t guilty. They just didn’t have enough proof for a conviction.”

  Tony shook his head. “I can’t believe it. Theft, murder. The Nighthawks used to be basically a bunch of punks who only acted like big shots.”

  “Revenge can be a powerful motivation for violence,” B.D. said solemnly.

  “So you think Kip DiFranco killed Paul because Paul turned him in to the police?” Bess asked.

  “Yup,” B.D. said firmly. “I think if we catch DiFranco, we’ll be able to prove that he murdered Paul Remer.”

  Suddenly there was a loud gasp from the hallway leading to the bedroom. Nancy jerked her head around. Billie Peters was standing frozen in the threshold, a shocked expression on her face.

  “Kip couldn’t have murdered Paul!” Billie cried out.

  Then before anyone could stop her, she grabbed her coat, flung open the door, and raced down the building’s hallway!

  Chapter

/>   Five

  B ILLIE, WAIT!” Nancy cried as she took off after the girl. When she reached the banister in the hall, she peered over the railing. She could see the top of Billie’s head about two flights below.

  “We’ve got to catch her,” B.D. said beside Nancy. The two plunged down the stairs, but when they reached the first floor, they found the front door wide open—and no Billie.

  Side by side, Nancy and B.D. raced outside, coming to a halt on the top step of the stoop. Nancy looked right, then left, only to find the street and sidewalks deserted.

  “Where could she have disappeared to so fast?” B.D. asked.

  Nancy ran down the outside steps, then headed toward the alley on the left side of the building. “Maybe down here. Or over there.” She jerked her thumb toward the shadowy stores and abandoned buildings across the street. “She knows the neighborhood a lot better than we do.”

  “Man!” B.D. smacked his fist against his palm. “Me and my big mouth. She obviously knows Kip DiFranco. If she gets the word out that we’re looking for him, he’ll go into hiding, and we’ll never pick him up.”

  Just then Tony, Bess, and George appeared on the stoop.

  “I’m calling descriptions of Billie, Rachel, and Kip into the precinct,” B.D. told Nancy. “Every patrol car in the area will be looking for them.” With long strides, B.D. headed for his unmarked car.

  Nancy joined her friends in front of the apartment house. “I must be the only one glad to see Billie go,” Bess remarked.

  “Why?” Tony asked. “Because she flattened you?”

  Bess put her hands on her hips. “No—because she said I was in lousy shape! When does that self-defense class you were talking about start, Tony?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Then sign me up,” Bess said resolutely. “That’s the last time I get tackled!”

  • • •

  “Boy, I hope I can stay awake on the phone today,” George said Tuesday morning as she and Nancy headed up the stairs of the teen center. “I don’t think a hotline caller would find snoring very helpful.”

  Nancy laughed. “We didn’t get much sleep, did we.”

  “You can say that again. You dropped me off about three.” George opened the door to the hotline office. “And here we are back at the hotline at nine.”

  Nancy pulled off her jacket, then draped it on the back of a chair. The room was chilly, and only a thin stream of sunlight shone through the windows. The effect was far from cheery.

  With a big yawn, George sat down behind one of the desks. She put her head down on the desktop. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for my nice cozy bed.”

  “You’re beginning to sound like Bess,” Nancy teased.

  “Don’t mention her name to me,” George grumbled. “It’s not fair that she gets to sleep in.”

  “Well, we did promise Tony we’d take this morning shift,” Nancy reminded George. “He says mornings can be really busy, too. This is when dropouts and kids who are too depressed to go to school need someone to talk to. Besides, there’s always a chance Rachel may call.”

  George raised her head and looked at Nancy. “So that’s why you’re so wide-awake. You’re still keyed up from last night.”

  Nancy nodded. “I keep wondering where Rachel is hiding and thinking about how scared she must be. I’m glad that Tony said he’d ask around the center about her this morning. Maybe he can find out where she and Billie are.”

  “B.D. might find out something, too,” George added.

  “Right. He was going to track down Rachel’s and Billie’s families. Rachel may have headed for the safety of home,” Nancy suggested.

  “Wherever that is,” George said.

  Nancy sat down on the edge of the desk. “That’s another mystery,” she mused. “Rachel’s suitcase was top quality, and so were her clothes. I wonder why she ended up hanging around the teen center and sleeping on someone’s secondhand sofa.”

  The shrill jangle of one of the phones startled both the girls. Nancy reached for it. Then the other phone in front of George rang, and she answered it.

  “Hello. Help Is Here Hotline. Nancy speaking.” The greeting was becoming automatic.

  “Nancy?” The voice on the other end was breathless. “Has Kyle called you yet?”

  “Bess? Is that you? I figured you’d sleep until noon.”

  “I would have, only I’m trying to get in touch with Kyle. My parents said he called several times last night wondering where I was.”

  “Did you call him at work?” Nancy asked.

  “Yeah, but he’s off with your dad somewhere. By mistake, my parents told him I’d be at the hotline this morning, so Kyle may show up looking for me. Tell him I’ll be at the center around noon. We can have lunch together when you guys get off.”

  “Okay.”

  George shot Nancy a quizzical look when Nancy hung up. “Who was that?”

  “A hysterical caller,” Nancy joked. “How about yours? It wasn’t Rachel, was it?”

  George shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’ll hand it over to you if it is.”

  “Hey, you two look gorgeous even without your beauty sleep,” Tony greeted the girls as he strode into the room. He was wearing his usual jeans, sweatshirt, and handsome smile.

  “Did you find out anything about Rachel or Billie?” Nancy asked eagerly.

  Tony jerked his head back. “What? No ‘Hi, how are you, Tony?’ ”

  George laughed. “Solving mysteries comes first with Nancy,” George explained. “But I’ll ask how you are.”

  “I’m fine, despite the wild time I had last night with you two and Bess.” He grinned as he sat down on the chair in front of Nancy’s desk. “And, yes, I did find out something.”

  Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but Tony quickly held up both hands. “Don’t get too excited, it wasn’t much. Apparently, Paul told Mr. A that he’d met Rachel at the community college. He was handing out teen center pamphlets after one of his classes.”

  “So Paul was taking courses,” George said.

  “Right. Rachel hung around asking questions, and Paul offered to bring her to the center. He introduced her to Mr. A. That was about a week and a half ago. Rachel told Mr. A she had no place to stay and hinted that she’d left home kind of abruptly. But Mr. A told me he was pretty certain Rachel was eighteen, so legally she could be on her own.”

  “Hmmm.” Nancy frowned thoughtfully. “Did he say anything about Paul’s murder?”

  Tony let out his breath. “He was pretty shaken up about it. The police contacted him first thing this morning, since Paul was living at the center.”

  Nancy looked startled. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

  Tony shrugged. “I guess Mr. A told me, but with the hotline, the groups, and school, I didn’t pay much attention. Mr. A said he was bunking on the third floor. In exchange for a place to stay, he was doing some of the renovation work—painting, sanding, stuff like that—and helping Mr. A out in the office. Mr. A told me today that he liked having someone here all night in case the center was broken into or vandalized. Plus, Paul was supposedly pretty good with figures.”

  “It seems that Mr. A put a lot of trust in Paul,” George commented.

  “Paul was a good guy. Even before he left the Nighthawks, he was working hard to turn his life around. Mr. A thought of him as one of the center’s success stories.”

  “And now he’s dead,” Nancy said, shaking her head.

  Just then Kyle walked into the hotline office. “Hi. Is Bess here yet?” he asked, unbuttoning his overcoat.

  Nancy shook her head. “She called and said she’d be in at noon. Why aren’t you at work?”

  “I had to deliver some papers for your dad.” He patted the bulging pocket of his coat, then looked over at Tony. “So, were all of you out last night playing cops and robbers?”

  “Until three in the morning,” George said with a groan.

  “Three?” Kyle raised one brow.

&n
bsp; “Three,” Tony replied. Leaning back in the chair, he crossed his arms across the University of Illinois emblem on his sweatshirt and met Kyle’s gaze.

  Nancy rolled her eyes. Kyle was acting jealous, and it almost looked to her as if Tony was egging him on. “Bess will be here at twelve,” she told Kyle.

  He turned his attention back to Nancy. “Maybe we can all have lunch together.”

  “Sounds good to me,” George said.

  “Me, too,” Tony said. “The hotline’s closed from twelve to three.”

  Kyle stared at him, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I’ll call Bess and let her know.”

  With a nod goodbye, he turned and left.

  Tony started to chuckle. “I don’t think Bess’s boyfriend likes me much.”

  “Hey, Kyle’s a great guy,” Nancy defended him. “It’s just that he knows he’s leaving soon for law school, and I don’t think he and Bess have really talked about what’s going to happen when he goes.”

  Just then the phone on Nancy’s desk rang. She picked it up. “Help Is Here Hotline. Nancy speaking.”

  “Nancy? Are you the same volunteer I talked to last night?” a voice whispered into the phone. It was the girl who had called the night before! Quickly, Nancy gestured to Tony and George to keep their voices low.

  “Yes. It’s me. Are you all right?”

  “Um. Yes. I—” The caller took a deep breath. “I was wondering if anyone at the teen center knew anything about . . . um . . .”

  Nancy decided to level with her. “Paul Remer’s death?”

  “Yes! I was so afraid to tell you anything last night, but I wanted the police or someone to find him,” the caller said, her words tumbling out in a relieved rush.

  “The police discovered the body late last night,” Nancy explained. “They also discovered a bracelet in a nearby phone booth with the initials RJT. Was it yours?”

  There was a long silence. Finally the caller asked, “Are the police there now?”

  “No,” Nancy said. “This is just between you and me.”

  “It was my bracelet. I must have snagged it on something when I called the hotline. I was so freaked out, I didn’t even notice it was gone.”