Bad Times, Big Crimes Read online

“All finished here, sir,” he said.

  The voice sounded so familiar. Hmm. I went over to investigate. Crouching behind a bin of apples, I peeked out. The guy’s back was to me, so all I could tell was that he was tall with dark hair.

  “Okay,” said Mr. Babson. “You worked for three hours, so I owe you ninety cents worth of groceries.”

  “Thank you.” The young man turned around and started walking toward me.

  It was then that I realized why his voice had sounded so familiar. “Ned Nickerson!” I yelled, jumping out from behind the produce section.

  “Ah!” He jumped back. “Nancy, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m buying some eggs,” I explained. “The better question is what are you doing here?”

  As Ned hung his head, his bangs swept down over his eyes. “I was afraid this would happen. That’s why I chose to work such late hours.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I didn’t want you to find out I was working here,” he said. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

  Just then Mr. Babson came over with a paper bag. “Here you go, Ned. Take this spare chicken to your mom, and send her my regards.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked as Ned took the bag.

  “I come here for a few hours every night. I’m trying to help my parents make ends meet,” he said. “I’m not even working for money. Mr. Babson is short on cash, so he pays me in groceries instead. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just—I didn’t know if you’d want to go steady with a guy who worked at a grocery store.”

  “Don’t apologize, Ned. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I think that’s the sweetest thing in the world.”

  Ned sighed deeply. “I’m so happy to hear you say that, Nancy. I had no idea how you’d react. I’m still going to school though. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “Well, I’d better get these home. See you later.” Ned gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and headed out the door.

  I found the eggs, milk, and bread without any trouble, and went to the cash register. “That all, Nancy?” asked Mr. Babson.

  “Yes, sir.” I handed over the little bit of change I had left in my pocket. Fortunately, it was just enough.

  Before I went to find Miss O’Brian, I had another stop to make. Turning onto River Street, I followed Bob’s directions to the bar/casino. Driving by slowly, I could see lots of people milling around out front. I parked the car on the other side of the street and watched. I quickly spotted Loretta; she was impossible to miss. Even more stunning in person, she had on a full-length, black mink coat. Since she wore it open, I could also see her fancy red, sequined dress and high heels. Loretta was laughing hysterically. Next to her was an older man. He looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place him.

  I felt like warning him to watch out for his wallet, but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.

  What I needed was a plan.

  Just then I saw Edward. And worse than that—he spotted me. As he crossed the street and walked swiftly toward my car, I sped away.

  Hooverville sure was different at night. So quiet and still, it felt like a ghost town. I supposed that most people had already turned in for the evening. Only one bonfire was still going strong. The bright orange flames reflected off the sides of the tin shacks.

  I wandered around the sad place, asking everyone I came across if they knew Miss O’Brian. It took some time, but eventually a young boy led me to a small hut made of scrap metal and cardboard. At the entrance was a smaller piece of cardboard. Someone had drawn a pineapple on it and written WELCOME. I knocked on the side of the shack.

  I heard, “Come in.” A pretty, blond young woman with large brown eyes was huddled under a torn shawl, and she was eating a potato off a chipped plate. Next to her was an open can of beans. It was so empty it looked as if the sides had been licked clean.

  “Miss O’Brian?” I asked.

  “That’s me,” she replied.

  “My name is Nancy Drew,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m sorry to disturb you during your dinner, but I was hoping we could talk.”

  Miss O’Brian shook my hand, then motioned to the empty stool opposite hers. “Have a seat, Miss Drew.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Please, call me Nancy. I’m a friend of the Smiths. They have four children. Jerome and Sammy—”

  “Betty and Eliza,” Miss O’Brian said, cutting me off. “I know the Smith family very well.”

  “Well, I’ve just met them,” I explained. “They told me that the school had closed down. And I was wondering, is there any way I can help?”

  “Depends,” said Miss O’Brian, wrapping her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “Do you know Herbert Hoover?”

  “The president?” I asked. “No, I can’t say that I do.”

  “Well, he’s the only one who can help,” said Miss O’Brian. “River Heights is in shambles. The town simply has no money.”

  “But how are we going to get out of this mess if our children aren’t educated? I know times are tough, but this is the United States. Everyone deserves an education.”

  Miss O’Brian shook her head. “Nancy, I understand what you’re saying. And I appreciate your coming here. You obviously care for the children of this town a great deal. I do too, but I’ve already done everything I can.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I agreed to take a small pay cut six months ago, and I hardly blinked when they cut my salary in half soon after that. But when the town of River Heights stopped sending me checks altogether, well—I just couldn’t survive. I have to eat.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m so sorry. It’s a terrible situation all around.”

  “Imagine how I feel,” said Miss O’Brian. “I’ve been teaching for ten years. It’s my passion. I never thought I’d have to stop.”

  “What if we found you some money,” I said. “Maybe we can take up a collection among the parents.”

  Miss O’Brian shook her head stubbornly. “First of all, the parents don’t have any money. And second, I refuse to become a charity case.”

  “It wouldn’t be charity,” I argued.

  Miss O’Brian sat up straighter. “I may have lost my home, and I may have lost my career, but I haven’t lost my pride, and I don’t plan to.”

  “I certainly respect your feelings. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Nancy. There are thousands of people in this town. Many of them are very smart. No one knows what to do.”

  “It’s such a shame that the children have to suffer.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Miss O’Brian. “Believe me. I wish there was another way.”

  “There is another way,” I said. “There has to be. And I’m not going to rest until I figure it out.”

  Miss O’Brian smiled at me. “You’re certainly an optimistic one,” she said. “I surely hope you’re right.”

  “Do you need a place to stay?” I asked. “The Smiths have filled our guest bedrooms, but we have a very comfortable study.…”

  Miss O’Brian shook her head once more. “It’s a generous offer, Nancy. But as I said before, I’m not a charity case.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Miss O’Brian held her chin up high. “And I believe you. But I’m comfortable enough right here in Hooverville.”

  “Okay then,” I said, standing up. “I’m going to think of something. Really, I will.”

  Miss O’Brian smiled kindly. “It was very nice meeting you, Nancy.”

  I hurried back to where I’d parked, feeling as if I was in some horrible nightmare that I couldn’t wake from. So many people were so desperate. Everything seemed so hopeless. And I’d no idea how to help. By the time I reached the car, hot tears were starting to trickle down my face.

  After finding a handkerchief in the glove compartment, I dried my eyes and blew my
nose. I took some deep and steady breaths, shifted into second gear, and slowly rolled out of Hooverville. If I could, I’d have gathered up every single homeless family and moved them all into mine and Dad’s house. The fact that I couldn’t do that, and that I didn’t know what to do, left me feeling like my heart had broken into a thousand tiny pieces.

  As I drove I wracked my brain, trying to come up with a solution.

  Here were the facts: Miss O’Brian wanted to teach, but she had to eat—and to eat, she needed money. The town wanted her to teach, but it had no money with which to pay her.

  It was a simple problem with no easy solution.

  I thought about how Ned worked for Mr. Babson for food. Maybe Miss O’Brian could too. But then she wouldn’t have any time to teach. Of course, if someone else worked those hours for her…

  By the time I got home I had an inkling of an idea. It was small, but it was something.

  Lying awake in bed that night, listening to the small, steady breaths of Eliza and Betty across the room, a plan came to me. It wouldn’t be easy to pull off, but it was going to work. It just had to.

  7

  When in Doubt, Blame It on a Belgian

  It’s a barter system,” I said to Bess. “It came to me last night. You see, on my way to Hooverville I had to stop by the grocery store to pick up some things for Hannah, and it was the strangest thing—I ran into Ne—um. This guy Neum.”

  “What kind of name is that?” Bess wondered.

  “Sounds foreign,” said George.

  “That’s because it is,” I said. “Neum is from Belgium.” I didn’t want to lie to my friends, but I also didn’t want to blow Ned’s cover. I had a feeling that since he didn’t want me knowing about his work at the grocery store, he wouldn’t want others knowing either. I thought it was totally admirable that Ned would help his family out like this. Nothing to be ashamed of—but still, it was his business, so it was his call. “Anyway, Neum was working there, sweeping up and stuff. But instead of paying him in cash, Mr. Babson paid him in food.”

  “Weird,” said Bess.

  “Kind of. But it also makes a lot of sense, when you think about it. Anyway, he and Mr. Babson had worked it all out and it got me thinking that maybe we can do the same thing in Hooverville—”

  “Wait, slow down,” said George. “We’re barely awake.”

  “Sorry,” I replied. “I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself.” It was true. I just couldn’t contain my enthusiasm. As soon as I’d woken up that morning, I threw on another uncomfortable dress, brushed the tangles from my hair, and then drove over to George and Bess’s house. I needed to fill them in fast, because in order to make my plan work, I’d need their help. I didn’t realize it was only 7:30 a.m. until I’d knocked on their front door. After they let me inside, I saw that their families were eating breakfast in their pajamas. They seemed so comfy and happy. It left me feeling nostalgic. I was starting to wonder if I’d ever get home to the twenty-first century. I sure hoped so. I mean, yes, some things were familiar—but this still wasn’t exactly home for me.

  I took a deep breath and tried to slow myself down. “So I thought we’d help everyone set up a system of trading,” I explained. “Miss O’Brian wants to teach, but she needs to eat. No way would she take charity. She’s very stubborn on that point. But what if the townspeople paid her to teach their children with something other than money?”

  “Like what?” asked Bess.

  “Her meals, and maybe rides to and from the schoolhouse. Whatever she needs.”

  “That just might be crazy enough to work,” said George.

  “I have a hunch the Smiths will think it’s a great idea, and I bet they’d be happy to help. Bob Smith was a tailor before he had to give up his shop. But he still has his supplies, so he can always work from home—er, from my home for now.”

  “I hardly think that Miss O’Brian needs new dresses, though,” George said.

  “But someone must,” I pointed out.

  “I know!” said Bess. “When we were passing out bread yesterday in Hooverville, I ran into an old neighbor, Mrs. West. She’s got three children. She wanted her oldest to go to work, but he couldn’t even leave their shack because his pants were so worn out—they were practically in shreds.”

  “That’s so sad,” said George.

  “It is,” said Bess. “But now we can ask Mr. Smith to make him a new pair.”

  “And what will her son do in return?” asked George.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Let’s go find out.”

  George grinned and said, “This is swell.”

  Swell? It was so hard not to laugh.

  “Give us five minutes,” said Bess.

  My friends ran upstairs and returned soon after, fully dressed and ready to motor.

  Once at the car, George hopped into the rumble seat. “Let’s go!”

  We arrived in Hooverville in no time. “Remind me that I need to be home by noon, okay?” I asked.

  “No problem,” George said. “Do you have a date with Ned?”

  I shook my head. “Nope, Dad needs the car.” I didn’t want to let my father down two days in a row, especially now, since he was being so nice about letting the Smiths stay with us.

  I led my friends to Miss O’Brian’s shack and introduced everyone.

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” said Miss O’Brian.

  “Likewise,” George replied. “My little brother raves about you.”

  “My sister does too,” said Bess. “Do you know Scott Fayne and Maggie Marvin?”

  “Of course I do.” Miss O’Brian beamed. “They were two of my best students. And they’re cousins, so that must mean—”

  “We are too,” said George.

  Miss O’Brian looked so surprised. “I never would have guessed it.”

  Bess laughed. “No one ever does.”

  “So what brings you back to Hooverville so soon?” Miss O’Brian asked.

  “I figured out how to get you back in the classroom,” I said.

  “Really?” asked Miss O’Brian with raised eyebrows.

  “I know you won’t take charity, but what if we worked out a barter system? That way, you’d be teaching for goods and services instead of money.” I explained the idea to her in as much detail as I’d worked out, using the example of “Neum,” the mysterious Belgian.

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Do you think everyone will go for it?”

  “I don’t see why not,” I said. “They’ve got nothing to lose. The trick is in the coordination, but we’ll take care of that.”

  My friends and I split up so we could get the word out. George headed downtown to speak with all the merchants, and Bess and I were going to poll everyone in Hooverville. Our plan was to make up two lists: the first would be of goods and services people could offer, and the second would be of what they needed. Bess and I would match those up with George’s list of stores willing to participate.

  Miss O’Brian and I sat down outside her shack. It was a nice day, warm for the fall. The sun was out, and the leaves on the trees ranged in color from golden yellow to bright orange to burnt red.

  “I thought we’d start by making a list of everything you need—not just in order to teach, but also to live relatively comfortably,” I said, pulling out my notebook and pencil.

  “Okay,” said Miss O’Brian. “The first thing I need is three square meals a day.”

  “Got it,” I said, writing it down. “Now, what else?”

  “Some of the desks in the schoolhouse are broken. It would be wonderful if someone could repair them.”

  “Check,” I said.

  “The children could use new writing tablets.”

  “Okay.”

  We finished twenty minutes later. As I’d suspected, Miss O’Brian required very little for herself, but she wanted the kids in town to have as much as possible. I wandered through Hooverville in search of Bess so I could hand off
the information to her.

  As I looked around I realized that the plan was working out much better than I’d anticipated. The area was buzzing with excitement. Word of the bartering spread throughout Hooverville, and everyone seemed to agree that the system would be a great, temporary solution to their circumstances. Bess was doing an amazing job organizing the barter list. She’d already filled half a notebook. Turns out, lots of people had already been bartering on an individual level. All we were doing was fueling the fire—making the system more widespread and efficient.

  I was so happy to see that the true spirit of the citizens of River Heights would not be suppressed. The people of Hooverville may have lost a lot in terms of money, jobs, and their homes, but they still had something infinitely more valuable: hope.

  I was feeling so great. Nothing could bring me down—or so I thought. Then I heard police sirens sound off in the distance. And they were getting louder. Moments later four cars and a paddy wagon screeched to a stop in Hooverville. At least fifteen police officers got out of the vehicles and swarmed the area. They peered into people’s shacks and tents, seemingly at random.

  Something was up. And it looked bad—very bad.

  8

  Hasty Conclusions

  I ran over to Chief McGinnis, who was supervising the search. “What’s going on?” I asked. “Who are you looking for?”

  “Whoever robbed the River Heights First Security Trust,” he replied.

  I couldn’t believe it. “There was another bank robbery?”

  “Yup,” said the chief. “That makes three this month. Don’t worry though. I’m not leaving Hooverville until I find the guys who did it.”

  “What makes you think that the thief is here?” I asked.

  “It’s obvious, Nancy. Who else is so poor and desperate they’d need to steal?” Chief McGinnis answered.

  His faulty logic sure was bugging me. “These people may be poor, but they’re certainly not desperate,” I countered. “Plus, they’re working out their own problems just fine. Everyone is pretty hopeful. See, we’re working out a new system of bar—”

  I didn’t get to finish my sentence because Chief McGinnis cut me off. “Nancy, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’ve got work to do here.”