False Notes Read online

  Mr. Fayne licked some chocolate sauce off his spoon. “Well, if you need any help shopping, I could come along and help you out,” he said. “Say, tomorrow night, around seven?”

  Mrs. Fayne made a face at him. “Very funny, dear,” she said. She glanced at the rest of us. “He’s taking me to the recital over at the university tomorrow night,” she explained. “He’s been trying to get out of it all week—says classical music puts him to sleep.”

  “At least I should get a good nap out of it,” Mr. Fayne joked.

  I recalled that George had mentioned something about that earlier. “I hear you’re a fan of Leslie Simmons,” I remarked, trying to sound casual. “She’s supposed to be quite a pianist.”

  “Oh, she is! She’s wonderful,” Mrs. Fayne replied enthusiastically. “She just makes the music come alive.”

  After our dessert break, my friends and I excused ourselves while George’s parents returned to their card game. I led the way outside.

  “Look,” I said. “I just realized—by this time tomorrow night, a whole lot more people are going to know that Leslie isn’t around when she doesn’t show for that recital.”

  “If she doesn’t show,” George corrected.

  “Okay—if,” I agreed. “In the meantime, I think we should keep investigating. Let’s drive over to Morris Granger’s place and see if we can turn up anything interesting there. Maybe we’ll find some clues—or even Leslie herself!” I was feeling a growing sense of urgency about the case. Not only was Leslie’s disappearance going to be harder and harder for her parents to hide, but I had just realized that I had promised to spend the next afternoon and all day Wednesday helping out with a charity tag sale. This could be my last chance to crack the case.

  “Are you sure it’s such a good idea to go to his house?” Bess said dubiously. “Seems pretty risky to me. What if he catches us snooping around?”

  George sighed. “Give it up, Bess,” she advised. “You know she’s going anyway. We might as well tag along and try to keep her out of trouble.”

  I grinned. “Come on,” I said. “I’ll drive.”

  At that, Bess looked more dubious than ever. “Are you sure?” she said. “I don’t mind driving. Really. And my car is much closer than yours.”

  She pointed to her car, which was parked exactly one space closer on the curb than mine. I rolled my eyes. For some reason Bess doesn’t trust me behind the wheel. It’s not that I’m an unsafe driver—I always follow the speed limit, and rarely forget to signal before I make a turn. However, I have occasionally been known to get slightly distracted when I’m thinking about a case, and this means I’ll forget to check the gas gauge and run out of gas. Or I might leave the door open when I leave the car and thus run down the battery. Or forget to take the key out of the ignition and accidentally lock it inside the car.

  Of course, that sort of thing almost never happens. Probably no more than once a month or so. Still, Bess just doesn’t trust me.

  She made a big show of carefully checking the gas gauge as she climbed into the passenger seat. “We’re good,” she told George. “There’s about half a tank. That should be enough to get us to the other side of town and back, even with Nancy driving.”

  “Ha-ha,” I said with a snort. “Come on, let’s get those seat belts on so we can get moving. It’s getting late.”

  It didn’t take us long to find Granger’s home. It was located in a luxurious new town house community on the outskirts of River Heights. We knew the address from George’s snooping earlier. To avoid suspicion, I carefully parked a few doors down.

  We climbed out of the car. There were no regular streetlights in the development, but tastefully landscaped lighting fixtures made it easy to get a clear look around. Granger’s town house was an end unit. It was two stories high in the front, but from where we were standing we could see that the neatly mowed lawn dropped off sharply in the back. The house most likely featured a walk-out basement with a nice view of the small lake behind. A large white van bearing the words TAYLOR’S TIRELESS CLEANING SERVICE was parked right in front. As we watched, several apron-clad women hurried up the front steps carrying various cleaning implements. The front door was propped open with a metal dustpan.

  “Looks like the cleaning service is here,” George said, checking her watch. “Weird time for them to be working.”

  “I guess they work around Granger’s schedule,” Bess suggested. “My mom has hired Taylor’s Cleaning Service before, and that’s sort of their specialty—they have people available twenty-four hours a day. They’ll come and vacuum your house at midnight if you want. Granger probably arranged for them to come tonight because he’s out of town or at a business dinner or something.”

  “Makes sense, I guess.” George shrugged. “That means this was a wasted trip though. Granger’s not here to spy on, and now we won’t even be able to get a close look at his house with all these cleaners hanging around.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” I said. “Look, the front door is wide open.”

  Bess looked shocked. “You can’t just walk in there, Nancy!”

  I grinned at her. “Watch me.”

  Despite my confident words, my heart was pounding as I took a step toward the front door. I felt George grab my arm.

  “Wait,” she said. “This is a bad idea. What if you get caught? Or what if Granger comes home while you’re in there?”

  “Hmm, good point,” I said. My friends looked relieved. “Keep a lookout for Granger,” I continued. “I’ll come up with something to tell the cleaners if they catch me.”

  My friends’ expressions returned to dismay as I hurried toward Granger’s town house. I waited until none of the cleaning people were in sight. Then I dashed up the steps and into the house. My heart was thumping in my chest. I knew my father would disapprove if he was there. But he wasn’t there, I told myself, glancing around the art-lined front hall and darting into the nearest room. Besides, I didn’t have time to worry about following the rules—not if Leslie was in as much trouble as I thought she was.

  The room I’d just entered seemed to be some sort of sitting room. It had a carpeted floor, elegant drapes, and expensive-looking furniture. Stepping toward the front window, I pulled aside the heavy curtain and peeked outside. Bess and George were still standing on the sidewalk where I’d left them—but they were no longer alone. Several young men had joined them, and I could see them jostling each other in their eagerness to talk to Bess.

  I rolled my eyes. George and I like to joke that Bess could meet a cute guy in a nunnery, and sometimes I almost think it’s true. Guys are drawn to her like paperclips to a magnet. Her all-American good looks and curvy figure have something to do with that, of course. But I think her bubbly personality has even more to do with it. She has a way of smiling and listening that makes whoever she’s talking to at the moment feel like the most important person in the world.

  Of course, Bess’s winning personality wasn’t much help to me at the moment. At least George still seemed to be keeping an eye on the incoming road.

  That reminded me—I might not have much time. It was getting late. Unless he was out of town, Granger would certainly be home before too much longer. I had to work fast.

  I listened at the door until I was pretty sure none of the cleaning people were in the hallway. Fortunately it sounded like most of them were either upstairs or in the kitchen at the back of the house. Taking a deep breath, I dashed across the hall to the next door. I listened briefly, but heard nothing on the other side. When I opened it, I saw steps leading down into darkness.

  “Basement,” I whispered, moving on to the next door.

  This time I struck gold. I could tell right away that the new room was Granger’s home office. A large, leather-topped desk dominated the space. Several versions of a Granger for Mayor campaign poster were tacked up on a corkboard with notes scribbled here and there. A large set of metal filing cabinets lined one wall, and bookshelves filled with volumes of
boring-looking financial and business texts filled another.

  I smiled. If Granger was up to something fishy, surely I would find evidence of it here.

  I didn’t waste any time getting started on my snooping. Sitting down in the black-leather chair behind the desk, I sifted through the piles of papers, looking for anything suspicious. Everything seemed to be in order there, so I turned to the first filing cabinet. I opened it and glanced at the tightly packed papers inside.

  That was all I had time for before I heard a terrible sound: a dog barking. And it sounded like it was coming from inside the house.

  “Shoot,” I muttered to myself. “Either a neighbor’s dog just wandered in through that open door, or…”

  “Hello, Ms. Taylor!” A man’s voice rang out from somewhere nearby. It was slightly muffled, as if drifting in from outside. “Sorry to interrupt your work, but my dinner ended earlier than expected.”

  My heart pounded. Unless I missed my guess, Morris Granger was home—and that meant it was time for me to get out of there!

  I cracked open the office door and peered out. There was no one in the hallway. Maybe I still had time to escape. I carefully stepped out. Suddenly, a small white blur flew through the air toward me. The dog. I’d already forgotten about the dog!

  Sure enough, the blur slowed and turned into a small white dog that started yapping excitedly, bouncing up and down and scrabbling at my legs. It seemed friendly enough, but it was definitely making a racket. I did my best to dodge around it, still hoping to slip out the door while Granger talked to the cleaning people.

  “What is it, Fluffy?” the man’s voice boomed, sounding much closer this time. Footsteps sounded on the front stoop just outside.

  I froze. Glancing around, I gauged the distance to the kitchen. But some of the cleaning people were probably still in there. If I ran upstairs, I would be trapped. I could try to make it to that front room—it probably wasn’t used much, and I might be able to climb out the window. But my split second of hesitation had already cost me too much time. Any moment now Granger would reach the front door, step inside, and see me. I had to get out of sight any way I could.

  Gently shoving away the excited little dog with my foot, I leaped across the hall and yanked open the basement door. I slipped through and pulled the door shut behind me just as I heard footsteps clump onto the wooden floorboards in the hallway.

  “What’s the matter, Fluffy?” Granger’s voice came again, only slightly muffled this time by the thin wood of the basement door. “Are you barking at those monsters in the basement again?”

  I sidled down the stairs in case he opened the door, feeling my way as best I could in the darkness. To my surprise, the basement was a little lighter at the bottom. I glanced over and saw a large sliding glass door on the back wall.

  Of course! I thought with a quick flash of hope. The yard dropped off in the back—a walk-out basement. I could slip out, and nobody would ever know I was in there.…

  Hurrying over to the door, I pulled at the handle. But even after fiddling with the lock, trying it in every position, the door didn’t budge. I yanked at it in frustration, wondering if it was stuck.

  Then, as I squinted desperately at the door handle, I saw my answer: A solid metal padlock was hanging from the handle on the other side of the glass, locking the door from the outside. I clenched my fist and pounded the glass in frustration. How was I going to get out now? Even if I hid out in the basement until Granger went to bed, I was sure he had some kind of security system.

  I froze, realizing I might not have to worry about that. I’d just heard the basement door swing open. A second later Fluffy was dancing around my feet again.

  “You may be right about the monster this time, Fluffy.” Granger’s jovial voice drifted down from the top of the stairs. “I heard it that time too. Hope those darn squirrels didn’t find a way back in.”

  A second later an overhead light flickered on. I could now see that the basement was nothing more than a moderately sized, nearly empty room holding little more than the furnace and water heater. I heard a footstep on the stairs, and then another. Granger was coming down. There was nowhere to hide, and the door was locked.

  I was trapped!

  Close Calls

  I almost moaned out loud in my panic, wondering if I could possibly squeeze out of sight behind the water heater. Then, suddenly, I noticed movement on the outside of the sliding glass door.

  “Bess!” I hissed under my breath, recognizing my friend’s bright blond hair.

  I glanced toward the stairs. There was paneling covering part of the stairwell, which meant Granger’s legs wouldn’t be visible until he was about halfway down. It also meant he wouldn’t be able to see me until he was almost at the bottom of the stairs.

  Fluffy had left my feet and raced back up the stairs and out of my sight, still barking excitedly. “All right, all right.” Granger laughed. “Come on, let’s see what you’re so interested in down here, little guy.”

  I cast a frantic glance outside. Bess was working away at the lock—she has a knack for anything mechanical, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she cracked the lock and got the door open. Unfortunately time was the one thing we didn’t have.

  Footsteps. Granger was moving. I watched nervously as an expensive-looking black dress shoe and dark trouser leg stepped into view, soon followed by another. At least he was taking the steps incredibly slowly.…

  Bess was still working, but time was running out. I took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say when Granger saw me. Maybe I could still talk my way out of this.

  At that moment, over the noise of Fluffy’s barking, I heard a wonderful sound: a ringing phone. Granger muttered something under his breath, sounding annoyed.

  “Come on, Fluffy,” he called. “Get up here. I’d better see who that is. I’ll check out your monster in a minute.”

  The footsteps hurried up the stairs and were followed by the dog’s clicking toenails. I finally exhaled, almost passing out from relief.

  I peered outside again. Bess was still working at the lock, her expression focused and grim. Suddenly a tiny beam of light appeared right behind her. Squinting past it, I saw George’s face bending closer, holding the light on the lock so Bess could see better. I recognized the penlight George had bought at Riverside Electronics. She always told us that thing would come in handy someday.

  The light seemed to help. Within seconds Bess was yanking the lock off the door handle. A moment later she and George slid open the glass door.

  “Thank goodness!” I gasped, rushing out immediately and grabbing them both in a big hug. “I thought I was dead meat when I saw that lock. How did you know where I was?”

  George glanced in through the glass door. “We’ll tell you in a minute,” she said. “Come on. I think he’s coming back.”

  Sure enough, I turned just in time to see Fluffy leaping down the last few steps. The little dog let out a flurry of barks and raced toward the door.

  “Yikes!” I exclaimed, jumping forward and sliding the door shut just in time. The dog leaped up and hit it with his front paws, whining with frustration.

  We didn’t wait around to see if his master was coming down behind him. Bess quickly snapped the padlock back into place. Then, following the thin beam of George’s penlight, we raced around the side of the house toward my car.

  ••••

  By the time I got home it was very late, and I was feeling frustrated. I still hadn’t found out anything useful about Granger, even after taking such a big risk and almost getting busted.

  It was a good thing George got sick of watching Bess flirt with those guys and went to look around the yard. If Granger had caught me down there…

  I shuddered, not bothering to finish the thought. Obviously luck had been with me that night. I found out later that George had been wandering around in the yard on the side of the house when Granger arrived home. She’d ducked around the back of
the house and glanced in the basement door just in time to see me come downstairs and try the door. Realizing my dilemma, she’d raced back out front to grab Bess, who immediately grabbed her deluxe Swiss Army knife from her purse and ran to my aid. It had taken George a few minutes to convince her cousin’s suitors to scram, but then she’d hurried back to help Bess.

  The light was on in my father’s home office when I let myself into the house. I glanced in and saw him at his desk, leaning over some paperwork.

  “Hi, Dad,” I greeted him.

  He jumped, clearly startled by my appearance in the doorway. “Oh! Nancy,” he said, looking at his watch. “There you are. Did you have fun with your friends?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  I couldn’t help notice that he looked tired and worried. He always worked hard, but that usually just seemed to energize him. I suspected that what Heather and Clay Simmons had told him was weighing heavily on his mind. He was so honest and upstanding by nature, I was sure that keeping something so important from the police was making him feel extremely conflicted.

  What a way to spend his birthday week, I thought. That made me feel a flash of guilt. In all the excitement over the Simmons case, I hadn’t devoted any time to coming up with a great idea for a gift.

  I said good night and headed upstairs, though I wasn’t really tired. My mind was still ticking away, trying to come up with a new approach to the case. I briefly considered going to see Mr. and Mrs. Simmons myself and trying to convince them to tell me what they knew. But I was afraid they would suspect that Dad had told me about Leslie’s disappearance, and I didn’t want to compromise their trust in him. I would have to figure out another way.

  If only I could find out more about Granger somehow—find out if he was really making designs on Rackham Industries, and what he’d done about it so far. Maybe that could provide a clue that would help us find Leslie.