069 Running Scared Page 5

  "Yes, there have been some threats and attacks on me in the last few days," Annette said, her expression growing serious. "But I won't let my life be controlled by the people who are responsible for this terrorism. I intend to run and win."

  "She looks good," Bess whispered.

  "Mmm," said George, but her eyes remained focused on Kevin.

  When the interview was over, Kevin said, "Great! Now we'll shoot some cutaways."

  "Cutaways?" Annette repeated.

  "TV slang," Kevin explained with a smile. "We'll shoot you using a stair climber, exercise bike, and so on, without sound. Then we'll use those shots over the dialogue. Otherwise, it'd look too dull."

  As they started to film the cutaways, Nancy leaned close to George and said, "Listen, we have to talk about Kevin. I think you should—"

  "Can't it wait?" George cut in. "I want to shower now, so I'll have a few minutes with Kevin after this is done." George disappeared into the ladies' locker room before Nancy could reply.

  Nancy sighed. Obviously her talk with George would have to wait until Kevin wasn't around. When George emerged from the women's locker room and rejoined Nancy and Bess twenty minutes later, filming was just ending.

  "Okay, that's it," Kevin announced. "This is going to look great, Annette, and you look fantastic."

  Seeing George, he went over to her. "I have to look at the tape and help edit it. If you want, you could watch us do the editing."

  "Sure," George agreed. "I've already done my workout here, and I guess my training run can wait until this afternoon."

  Kevin gave her a big smile. "Great! Let's see ... it's eleven. Meet me in the hotel lobby at one, okay?"

  George nodded. "Fine. See you then."

  "Tell you what," Annette said, coming over to Nancy and her friends a second later. "I need to do some shopping, since all my gear was shredded last night. Do you want to come along?"

  Nancy was surprised at the invitation but relieved that she wouldn't have to fight to accompany the runner.

  Ten minutes later the foursome was back at the Woodville. They went over to the concierge's desk, and Annette said to the woman there, "We'd like the name of a good sporting goods store."

  "Maybe I can help you out," said a gravelly female voice.

  Nancy turned to find Irene Neff standing at a nearby message board, where notes were posted for marathon participants.

  "Hello, Irene," Annette said coolly. "Know a good place to buy running gear? I suppose your opinions on that ought to be reliable."

  "I know all the best stores, dear," Irene returned. "That's my job, to know the best—the best shoes, the best stores, the best runners."

  Annette simply shrugged, but Nancy was aware of an intense current of hostility vibrating between the runner and Irene Neff.

  "Try the Winning Margin," Irene suggested. "It's a new store in the Magnificent Mile district. You can get there quickly by cab, and the store has good-quality things."

  "Thanks, Irene," said Annette. "If it's good, I imagine they'll have other brands than TruForm."

  Annette turned to leave, but George held her back. "I just want to leave Kevin word about where we're going, in case we're late getting back." She scribbled a hasty note and left it on the message board, then followed the others out.

  The Winning Margin was an enormous place full of every brand of sporting equipment and clothes.

  "Hey, Bess, come with me while I look at running shoes," George said, pulling her cousin down an aisle toward the footwear area.

  Bess grinned at Nancy over her shoulder. "Did you ever think you'd see the day when George had to drag me to go shopping?"

  Nancy laughed, then followed Annette to a section where running clothes were displayed. "Fm surprised that you have to shop for this stuff at all," Nancy commented. "Don't you get free stuff from a lot of companies?"

  "Sure," Annette told her, pulling an outfit in green and gold from the rack. "I market my own line, too. You saw those black-and-silver suits— those are my trademark colors. Til wear one of my designs in the race on Sunday. But I still like to shop for other stuff I like."

  Annette selected several items to try on. Nancy decided to try on some tops and a yellow warmup suit with neon blue trim.

  At one end of the department there was a hallway leading to a row of dressing rooms. Nancy didn't see a sales clerk, so she took her things to a booth while Annette went to another.

  After sliding the curtain closed, Nancy hung her things on the hooks provided. She changed first into the yellow-and-blue outfit, then studied her reflection in the booth's full-length mirror.

  The fit was perfect, Nancy noted with satisfaction, and the yellow fabric set off the rich reddish blond of her hair. She would definitely buy that one, she decided. She stepped back to grab the matching warmup jacket from another hanger.

  Nancy had gotten her arms partway into the sleeves when suddenly someone behind her threw a sweater over her head and face. Then, before she could react, she felt herself being grabbed around the neck, also from behind!

  She jerked her arms instinctively upward to dislodge the hands at her throat, but the half-on jacket blocked her movement. The powerful hands applied greater pressure, cutting off her windpipe. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

  Nancy started to feel faint. She couldn't see anything, and the ironclad grip around her throat continued to tighten. She was powerless to fight!

  Chapter Nine

  Think, Drew, Nancy ordered herself. She forced herself to ignore the pain and suffocating feeling that threatened to overwhelm her. Dropping her hands, she sagged back against her assailant, as though losing consciousness. The hands around her neck relaxed slightly.

  That was all Nancy needed. She kicked back with her shoe, feeling a sharp impact as it connected with her opponent's shin. Summoning all her strength, Nancy spun out of the deadly grasp and stumbled forward, tearing at the sweater that was covering her face. She turned, but there was no one in the booth with her. She had to take several heaving breaths before she felt clear-headed enough to step out through the curtain and into the corridor between the booths.

  It was empty.

  "Annette!" she croaked. Her head ached, and her throat was sore and tender.

  "What is it?" the runner called back.

  Nancy swallowed to moisten her throat. "Someone just grabbed me through the curtain of my booth. I fought him off, and he ran."

  "What! Hang on, let me get my clothes on."

  A minute later Annette joined Nancy in the corridor. As she hastily zipped up her jacket, Annette asked, "Are you all right?"

  "I'm okay, but it was a scary moment," Nancy said. She headed out to the sales floor. "I want to see if anyone noticed anything."

  There was now a salesclerk on the floor. She was helping a woman choose a sweatsuit. "Excuse me," Nancy said to them. "Did anybody run out of this corridor just a minute ago?"

  The clerk stared at her, and Nancy realized she was still wearing the running clothes she had been trying on. "Run out? Sorry, I didn't notice," the clerk said. "Why? Is something wrong?"

  Nancy saw Annette shake her head slightly. "No, it's all right," Nancy said. "Um, I'll just go change out of these, then."

  Nancy was conscious that the clerk was watching her as she and Annette walked back toward the dressing rooms. Nancy quickly changed back into her jeans skirt and white blouse.

  "I was just thinking," said Annette. "Whoever did that obviously thought you were me."

  "Maybe," Nancy agreed. "Or it was someone 66

  who doesn't want me to investigate your case. The question is, who knew we were coming here?"

  Annette scowled. "Irene Neff did, for one."

  Before Nancy could comment, George and Bess walked up, both carrying plastic shopping bags. "I got some fantastic running shoes," George said.

  "And I called Jake at the hotel. Lunch is on!" Bess added excitedly. "I found the best—" She broke off and stared
at Nancy. "What's wrong?"

  When Nancy explained what had happened, Bess's hand flew to her mouth, and George asked quickly, "You're all right?"

  "Fine," Nancy assured her friends, "except for a bruise on my throat."

  "Most of the suspects in this case spend all their time in the gym, Nan," Bess said. "They're all strong."

  "But they didn't all know we'd be here," Nancy pointed out.

  "Irene knew," said George.

  Nancy nodded and thought, So did Kevin. You left him a note. And anyone could have seen that note—Gina or Renee, anyone at all.

  "Well, shall we go back to the hotel?" Annette suggested. "I'd like to get something to eat, and I need to get in a run this afternoon."

  Giving the runner a stern look, Nancy said, "I'll join you on that run. I don't think you should go out alone."

  "I need a run, too," George said. "I have to meet Kevin at the hotel, but I can meet you later."

  Annette shrugged. "Fine. I won't be running long or hard—not with the race two days away. I have to save most of my energy for Sunday."

  "Yikes!" George gulped, looking at her watch. "It's almost one o'clock. I have to meet Kevin!"

  At the hotel Bess raced up to the room to get ready for her lunch date, and George left for the ICT studio with Kevin. Nancy and Annette checked the message board, then went up to the runner's room. It was undisturbed.

  "What now?" asked Annette, closing the door and looking irritated. "Do you plan to stay with me all the time? Is that necessary?"

  Nancy crossed her arms over her chest. "I just wanted to make sure that your room was safe. You don't seem to understand that you may be in real danger." It wasn't easy making Aimette grasp the seriousness of her situation.

  "There are several people who stand to gain if you can't run Sunday," Nancy continued. "Renee Clark would be more likely to win, Irene NefPs company would get good publicity, Gina Giraldi would have her revenge. ... And there may be others. You agreed to cooperate with me."

  Annette gave Nancy an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I'm not used to having a bodyguard around. Okay, I'll behave. And I won't go anywhere until we run later this afternoon, all right?"

  "Fine," said Nancy, smiling back. "I'll meet you in the lobby at three, then."

  Nancy left Annette's room and went down the hall to her room, where she looked up the address of TruForm's Chicago office. It was only a short distance away. Nancy walked to the office, hoping that Irene would be out on business or having a late lunch.

  TruForm occupied a suite of offices that were decorated with modern furniture. Nancy asked for Irene NefFand was directed to a corner office. When she got there, a secretary was just putting on her jacket in an outer room.

  "Hi," Nancy said brightly. "Irene here?"

  "Not at the moment," the secretary told her. "Can I help?"

  "But she said she'd be here," Nancy lied, trying to look disappointed.

  The secretary shrugged. "She's out of the office for the afternoon, and I'm going to lunch."

  Perfect! Nancy thought. Aloud, she said, "I'll try another time, then." Before the secretary could ask her name, Nancy walked away.

  She paused at a water fountain just down the hall, then bent to take a drink. She watched from the corner of her eye as the secretary picked up her shoulder bag and passed behind her. The woman didn't even seem to notice Nancy.

  Nancy looked up and down the hall. Then she returned to Irene's office and tried the door. To her relief, it swung open. Nancy slipped inside and closed the door behind her.

  The office was bright and attractive, with huge windows and modern chrome and steel furniture. Posters from TruForm advertisements hung on the walls. A big advertisement featuring Renee Clark hung behind the desk.

  There was a filing cabinet in one corner, and Nancy went over, opened the top drawer, and flipped through the files. They seemed to be arranged alphabetically, yet Nancy failed to find Renee's folder among the Cs.

  Frowning, she moved to the next drawer, where the Ls were. There she found a folder labeled Lang, Annette, and she pulled it out.

  A copy of a letter from Irene to Annette was the only thing that caught her eye. In the letter TruForm made a large endorsement offer to the runner. So, Irene had been lying when she said that TruForm had turned down Annette's offer of endorsement!

  Of course, Nancy could understand why Irene wouldn't want to admit publicly that TruForm had been turned down by a top runner—it would be bad public relations. Nancy knew she needed better proof than this, though, if she was going to prove Irene was behind the threats.

  After replacing the file, Nancy went over to Irene's desk. Her pulse quickened as she spotted a folder with Renee Clark's name on it. Nancy leafed through the contents.

  "Mmm. Interesting," she murmured, pulling out a letter. It was addressed to Irene and signed by the chief executive of TruForm Shoes. The letter was dated just two weeks earlier.

  The tone of the letter was friendly enough, but the substance was serious: It had been Irene who had gotten the company to gamble big money on the future of Renee Clark, the chief executive stated. Renee's future had better start now. If the deal with Renee didn't begin to pay publicity dividends immediately, the letter went on, Irene would find herself out of a job.

  Nancy let out a whistle as she restored the letter to the file. In the race for a prime suspect, Irene Neff had become the front runner.

  Finding nothing further of interest, Nancy slipped from Irene's office. Luckily, most of the other offices' occupants seemed to be out to lunch. Nancy's growling stomach reminded her that she needed to eat, too. After shooting a smile at the receptionist, she breezed out the office door.

  She had a quick lunch of pizza and soda, then returned to the Woodville. She had twenty minutes before she was due to meet Annette and George. Time enough to go up to the room, change clothes, and think about the case. Nancy took the elevator to her floor, then stood in the empty hall, fishing through her purse for the room key.

  Just as she found it, a loud angry voice erupted from somewhere nearby. With a shock Nancy realized that the voice was coming from her room. It didn't sound like Bess or George, though. She ran the few steps to the closed door.

  Her key was in the lock when a terrified scream rang out from inside. This time Nancy recognized the voice. It belonged to Bess!

  Chapter Ten

  Nancy flung open the door and rushed inside.

  Bess was backed up against the wall next to her bed, her face white as chalk and her eyes wide with fear. Gina Giraldi was standing in front of her. Her face was a mask of rage, and her hands were clenched into fists at her sides.

  "Nancy, help!" Bess cried. "She's insane!"

  "Leave him alone!" Gina shrieked.

  Nancy ran over and quickly stepped between the two girls. "That's enough, Gina," she said.

  "You're asking for trouble. Now get out of here."

  The dark-haired runner spun around to face Nancy. "Aha, the lady detective speaks," she sneered. "What I promise, I will do. Your friend will suffer if she does not do as I tell her."

  Nancy took a step toward Gina. "If you do anything to Bess, it'll be the dumbest move you ever made. If we have to call the police, you're out of the marathon."

  Gina's sneer remained in place, but she left without a word. As Nancy closed the door, Bess flopped facedown on the bed.

  "Are you all right?" Nancy asked.

  Bess rolled over onto her back and looked at Nancy. "I'm fine. I was just afraid, that's all. She's the scariest woman I've ever met."

  Nancy sat on Bess's bed and put a comforting hand on Bess's arm. "She was threatening you about Jake, wasn't she?"

  Bess nodded. "The thing is," she said, sitting up on the bed, "I've already decided he's not my type."

  "Not your type?" Nancy gave Bess a puzzled look. "How come?"

  "It was our lunch date that did it. All he's interested in is running. He talked about how he likes being with the runners'
federation, how he used to run, how great he feels working with runners, blah, blah, blah. I tried to change the subject, ask him what kind of music he liked, or what kind of stores they had in the Netherlands, but he'd just start talking about running again."

  Nancy couldn't help laughing. "Sounds like you made the right decision," she said. "I'm sure Gina will lay off you now."

  "I sure hope so," said Bess. She lay back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling while Nancy changed into sweatpants and an Emerson College T-shirt that her boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, had given her.

  "When are you going to talk to George about Kevin?" Bess asked.

  "This afternoon," Nancy answered, sighing. "I can't put it off any longer."

  Nancy entered the lobby, wheeling the bike she had gotten from the second-floor marathon room. Seeing no sign of Annette or George, she went over to the message board, but there wasn't any message for her there.

  Renee Clark was also there, with her trainer and Irene Neff. Nancy had just greeted them when a familiar voice spoke up behind her.

  "Hi, Nancy! How's your vacation going?"

  Wearing a triumphant grin, Brenda Carlton walked over to Nancy.

  "Hello, Brenda," said Nancy, stifling a groan. "Get any hot stories lately?"

  "Actually, I'm on the trail of something major," Brenda said smugly. "I'm meeting Gina Giraldi later, and she's going to give me the lowdown about who's doing dirty deals."

  Pointing a manicured nail at Nancy, she continued, "And I bet I find out who's behind the attacks on Annette before you do. What's that I see in your eyes, a little jealousy?"

  Nancy felt like strangling Brenda. Renee, Charles Mellor, and Irene Neff were eagerly drinking in every word Brenda said. Not only that, but Kevin and George had come up while Brenda was talking, and Kevin was listening. Now practically every suspect in her case knew that she was looking into the attacks on Annette!

  Speaking through gritted teeth, Nancy said, "Can I see you in private?" Without waiting for an answer, she pulled the reporter away from the group by the message board.