Fatal Attraction Page 6

  “Looks like they’re just talking,” Ned said.

  “Yeah. But he’s got one hand on her arm and the other—” Nancy swallowed. “The other’s in his jacket pocket, and he’s looking around, as if he wants to be sure that nobody sees them.” She put the binoculars down. “What if he’s got a gun in his pocket?”

  Ned pulled the binoculars away from Nancy and put them to his eyes. “They’re walking somewhere,” he said. “Brenda’s a step or two ahead, as if she’s leading him.”

  “Or he’s pushing her,” Nancy said, the anxiety knotting her stomach.

  “It looks like he’s taking her into the barn,” Ned said. “Brenda opened a door and they’re going inside.”

  “That settles it!” Nancy exclaimed. She reached for her small but powerful pocket torch and opened the car door. “Brenda could be in serious danger! Come on! We’ve got to get closer.”

  Together, Nancy and Ned swiftly made their way down from the knoll and ran toward the barn. They crouched beside the half-open door. The moon had ducked under a cloud and the scene was blanketed in inky darkness.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Ned whispered into Nancy’s ear after a moment.

  “I don’t either,” Nancy whispered back. “What do you suppose they’re doing?”

  They were silent for a moment. The only sounds were the chirping of crickets in the grass. Then, suddenly, there was a low, half-strangled cry from somewhere inside the barn, then another.

  “It’s Brenda!” Nancy whispered, the goose bumps rising on her arms. “She’s in trouble. Mike must be after her. Come on—we’ve got to get in there and help her!”

  Quickly, and as silently as she could, Nancy stepped through the dark doorway. The blackness overwhelmed her, and for a minute, she couldn’t see anything. Then, as her eyes got used to the dark, she could begin to make out the outlines of two figures, locked in what looked like a desperate struggle.

  “They’re over there,” Ned whispered, grabbing her arm. “I can just barely see their shadows against the barn wall. It looks like he’s got his hands around her throat!”

  Chapter

  Ten

  NANCY TRAINED HER torch on the corner and switched it on. There, in the glare of the light, was Brenda, standing on tiptoe, her arms wound around Mike’s neck. She was kissing him passionately, utterly oblivious of anything else.

  But when the light hit them, Brenda gasped in surprise. Dropping her arms, she stepped backward, tripped over a bucket, and sat down with a loud oomph! in a pile of hay. Mike stood still, shielding his face from the light.

  “Who . . . who’s there?” Brenda stammered, panic-stricken.

  Nancy cleared her throat. “It’s . . . it’s Nancy Drew,” she said. “And Ned Nickerson.” She flicked off the torch.

  “Nancy Drew?” Brenda gasped. “What are you doing here?” Her voice rose shrilly. “How long have you been spying on us?”

  Nancy’s face was red. “I—I . . .” She swallowed. “Well, to tell the truth, Ned and I came out here for a little, well, a little privacy.” She laughed an embarrassed little laugh. “We used to come out here when we were still in high school. Isn’t that right, Ned?”

  Ned slipped his arm around her waist. “Yeah,” he said, in a reminiscent voice, “it’s always been one of our favorite places.”

  The moon came out just then, shining through the window. Nancy could see Mike’s face. He was watching them suspiciously. Had they tipped their hand? Did he know they were on to him?

  “Well, you’re not going to spoil my evening,” Brenda snapped. She reached for Mike’s hand. “Come on, Mike. Let’s find somewhere where we won’t be bothered by sneaks who get their thrills spying on other people.”

  Mike cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, actually, maybe it would be a better idea to call it an early evening, Brenda. I did a late set at Charlie’s last night, and I guess I’m more tired than I thought.” He glanced at Nancy. “And I’m sort of out of the mood. I’m going home.’

  Brenda glared furiously at Nancy as she followed Mike out of the barn. “Just see what you’ve done!” she hissed. “You’ve messed things up again! Get out of my life and stay out!”

  “Whew,” Ned said as he and Nancy watched Brenda spin her wheels pulling out of the barn lot, close behind a disappearing Mike. “Well, at least Brenda’s safe for the rest of the evening.”

  “Yeah,” Nancy said. “I wish we hadn’t jumped in on them so fast, but I really thought . . .”

  “I know,” Ned said, circling her shoulders with his arm. “But we accomplished what we came for, didn’t we? It’s really tough to be responsible for Brenda.”

  “And getting tougher all the time,” Nancy agreed. “Tomorrow I’ll check with the Batesville police to find out if they’ve got a cause of death in the DeCamp case. But more important, we’ve got to keep Mike under surveillance. He’s the only one who can lead us to Felix. And by watching Mike, we can be sure that Brenda’s safe.”

  Ned chuckled. “I never thought I’d see the day when you were worried about Brenda Carlton!”

  • • •

  Nancy hung up the phone, feeling confused. “Boy, that sure was a weird conversation,” she said out loud, to the empty living room.

  At that moment, Ned stuck his head in through the open door. “What’s so weird?” he asked.

  “I just called the Batesville police,” Nancy replied, still puzzling over the call, which made no sense at all. She picked up her sweater and joined Ned outside. They were using Ned’s car for the stakeout because it was unfamiliar to Mike.

  “Who did you talk to?” Ned asked as he backed out of the driveway.

  “To the chief of police—Saunders, his name is. He sure wasn’t very informative. All he would tell me was that the case was still open. He wouldn’t even tell me how the girl died. I guess I’ll have to make a trip to Batesville and talk to him, person to person.”

  “Did you tell him you had a lead?”

  Nancy nodded, frowning. “Yes, but even that didn’t seem to interest him.”

  Ned turned a corner. “That is weird—a cop who isn’t interested in a lead on a case.”

  Nancy opened her purse. “But I did learn something interesting from the call. Remember I told you that the old guy made a telephone call from Mike’s motel room?” She pulled out a slip of paper.

  Ned nodded. “Yeah. Didn’t somebody in the telephone company trace it for you?”

  “That’s right.” She held out the slip of paper so Ned could see it. “When I dialed the Batesville Police Department this morning, I recognized the number. It’s the same one that Felix dialed from Mike’s room.”

  Ned looked surprised. “But that’s crazy!”

  “Exactly,” Nancy said. “Why would a crook—if that’s what this guy is—call the cops?” She shook her head. “It’s totally weird.”

  Nancy puzzled over the problem all day, as she and Ned sat parked across the street from the Ridgeview Motel, watching Mike’s room. But she couldn’t even guess at an answer, so she abandoned the puzzle and concentrated on the stakeout.

  There wasn’t much in the stakeout to concentrate on, either. If it hadn’t been for Ned’s company, the day would have been so boring that Nancy might have dozed off. Apparently Mike was sleeping late, because he didn’t appear until nearly one o’clock, when a pizza delivery man brought a large white box to the door. After Mike paid him, he left. The door didn’t open again until early evening.

  “There he is,” Ned said excitedly as Mike came down the stairs and walked across the lot to his motorcycle.

  Nancy tensed. “It’s about time,” she said. “I was beginning to think the day was going to be wasted.”

  Mike revved the motorcycle and drove onto Ridgeview Road, heading out of town. Smoothly, Ned started up, and they followed him, careful to stay out of sight.

  A mile down the road, Mike turned in at a shabby trailer park. A neon sign said Vacancy. “Remember what that girl
told us back in Silver Hills?” Nancy asked as Ned parked on the street and they got out of the car. “Mike’s buddy Felix lived in a trailer. Maybe he’s taking us to Felix!”

  Nancy and Ned made their way through the main gate, scanning the rows of battered-looking mobile homes parked close together on dusty lots. Near the very back, Nancy pointed to a small travel trailer. Mike’s motorcycle was parked out front.

  “There’s the bike,” she said. “He must be inside that trailer.”

  Swiftly they made their way through the shadowy space between the closely parked trailers. In a few seconds, they were standing just below the trailer’s small louvered window. Inside, Mike was talking to somebody.

  “You mean that strawberry blonde with the great legs?” he was asking incredulously. “You’re crazy, Felix.”

  “Look.” The other voice was exasperated. “Nancy Drew just happens to be a hotshot detective. I read a newspaper story about her and a helicopter crash up in Canada. She not only survived the crash, but inside half an hour she’d arrested the woman who sabotaged the chopper.”

  “Yeah, but—” Mike said.

  “Wait, there’s more. I found out that a former mayor of this very town is breaking rocks somewhere upstate because of this girl. He had everybody in this town fooled about a murder for twenty-five years, until she got on the case. She’s had more people busted than you’ve got fingers and toes.” There was a disgusted snort. “And you let her get a picture of you! That was really stupid.”

  The silence stretched out. “Maybe we’d better pull out now,” Mike offered at last, “before she gets on to us.”

  “Nah, we’re too close. Besides, we need the cash. That job in Batesville didn’t pay off the way it should have. Fortunately, there’re no mug shots of you, so the picture shouldn’t hurt us too much. But Brenda practically gave Drew a road map to everywhere we’ve been. If I hadn’t bumped the table and dumped that coffee in her lap, no telling what else she might have spilled. And now that Drew’s got the photo, you can bet she’ll take it somewhere where people will recognize you and talk.”

  “So what’s the big deal if she does?” Mike retorted. “So we picked up a a few bucks from some rich kids’ parents. Most of them were more than willing to give me that money. And they’d be too embarrassed to say anything about it now. You’re making it sound like we’re wanted for murder.”

  There was another long silence. Nancy stood on an old wooden crate and peered through the window. Mike was glaring at the gray-bearded man—Felix—across a small table. There was barely room on the floor for a huge, short-haired dog lying at the older man’s feet.

  Nancy waited for Felix to respond but he only said, “Look, the way I figure it, we still have a couple of days before Nancy Drew gets enough on us to cause real trouble. That should be enough time for you to sweet-talk the Carlton girl into making her move. Time for me to do my work, too.” His voice dropped threateningly. “And don’t get involved, like you did with Darla.”

  Mike laughed harshly. “Felix, you’ve got to be kidding. Get involved with Brenda Carlton? Not a chance. Yeah, she’s pretty, but—”

  At that second, the dog lifted its head and growled menacingly. Startled, Nancy shifted her weight and the crate she was standing on collapsed with a crash. The dog gave a low, rumbling bark.

  “There’s somebody out there!” Felix said in a half whisper.

  Ned pulled Nancy to her feet. “Come on,” he said, “we’ve got to get out of here.”

  Together, they began to run into the darkness at the back of the trailer park. From the sound of the dog’s frenzied barking, it had been set loose and was closing in on them.

  Her muscles straining, Nancy ran harder, a pace or two behind Ned. But the ground was littered with junk—boxes, old tires, broken auto parts—and she had to weave in and out through the rusty piles. The breath burning in her throat, she cast a look back over her shoulder. The dog was gaining, its lips laid back in a snarl, its sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light.

  Then, just ahead in the darkness, Nancy could make out the webby shadow of a tall chain-link fence. If only she could reach the fence, she’d be safe. But behind her the huge mastiff made a giant lunge, his fangs bared. He was just inches away!

  Chapter

  Eleven

  GIVE ME YOUR hands, Nancy,” Ned said urgently. He was straddling the top bar of the six-foot-high fence, reaching down.

  Nancy held up her hands and Ned grabbed her wrists, half lifting, half dragging her over the top. Nancy felt as if her arms were being pulled out painfully at the shoulders, and below her she could hear the dog, snapping viciously as he jumped for her.

  Over the fence, Nancy and Ned faded into the shadows as the mastiff threw himself against the wire, snarling in furious frustration. Felix was a dozen paces behind the dog, a club in his hand.

  “Did you get them?” Nancy heard Mike shout as he ran up beside Felix.

  “Nah.” Felix spat out the word in disgust. “They got away.” For a moment he paced along the fence, with the dog sniffing at the wire. Then he called the dog and went back to the trailer.

  “Do you think they saw us?” Nancy whispered. They were crouched in the shadow of a dumpster, surrounded by the smell of rotting garbage.

  “I hope not,” Ned whispered back fervently. They crept out of the shadows and down a dark alley toward the car. Ned unlocked it and they climbed in.

  “We really hit the jackpot tonight,” Nancy said, ticking off what they had learned on her fingers. “We managed to track Felix down. We know for sure now that he and Mike are in cahoots, and that they’ve been involved with at least three girls—Laura, Darla, and Brenda—and who knows how many more. We know that they had something to do with the Darla DeCamp case in Batesville, and that it didn’t pay off the way it was supposed to. And we know that Mike was personally involved with Darla—who is now dead.”

  Ned started the car and they drove off. “Uh-huh,” he agreed, checking the rearview mirror to be sure they weren’t followed. “But Mike said something back there that sounded like he knew they weren’t wanted for murder.”

  “I heard that too,” Nancy replied, nodding. “Felix was telling him how stupid it was for him to let me get his picture, and he said, ‘You’re making it sound like we’re wanted for murder.’ I don’t think he would have said that if he’d been responsible for Darla’s death.”

  “Well, we still don’t know how Darla DeCamp died,” Ned reminded her. “Maybe she fell out of a fishing boat.” He shuddered. “Or maybe she committed suicide.”

  “We’ve got to find out,” Nancy said. “Tomorrow I’m going to Batesville.”

  “Do you want me to come?” Ned asked, turning onto Main Street.

  “No, there’s plenty to do here,” Nancy told him. “We promised Mr. Carlton we’d protect Brenda, and that means keeping an eye on Mike.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stick with Mike.” Ned turned to grin at Nancy.

  “Okay.” Nancy nodded. “George and Bess can double up on Brenda. It takes two to watch her, anyway. I’ll give them a call when we get home.”

  Ned glanced at her. “Any idea how long it’s going to take to wrap this thing up? I seem to remember something about a vacation that got postponed almost a week ago.”

  Nancy shook her head. “I can’t say when this thing is going to end. Somehow, we have to convince Brenda that Mike is only after her money. And we have to get firm evidence that will take these guys out of circulation. We need something so clear that even Brenda can’t miss it.”

  “Just be careful, Nancy,” Ned said. “There’s something fishy about the way the Batesville chief handled your call. I don’t trust him. And it sounds like you’re on Felix’s hit list already.”

  “Don’t worry—I’ll keep my eyes open,” Nancy said grimly.

  • • •

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Drew,” Chief Saunders said in a flat, expressionless voice, after Nancy was seated in hi
s bare office on Friday morning. “I’m not in a position to reveal any of the details of the DeCamp case—not even the cause of death.” He was a ruddy-faced man with chilly blue eyes. Those blue eyes were fixed on Nancy now as he leaned back and folded his hands across his belt. “In fact, I’m wondering why you’re so interested in this business.”

  “I told you over the phone,” Nancy said, trying to sound more patient than she felt. “I’m investigating a case in River Heights that involves two men, a younger guy using the name of Mike McKeever and an older one named Felix.” Nancy studied the chief’s face as she spoke. Was there a flicker of interest in those cold blue eyes as she mentioned Felix?

  Nancy went on. “These two have been involved in a similar case in Silver Hills. And I think they’re connected to Darla DeCamp.”

  “I see.” Chief Saunders leaned forward. “And what is your evidence?”

  Nancy hesitated. “I found something in Mike McKeever’s possession,” she said slowly, “with Darla’s name on it. And a ticket to the Batesville County Fair.”

  The chief leaned back again. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I say that your evidence isn’t very conclusive,” he remarked. “What else?”

  “I know that Felix made a phone call to Batesville,” Nancy said, watching the chief carefully to see his reaction. She could have added “to this number,” but she didn’t. What if Saunders were involved in this somehow?

  “Hmm,” the chief said, picking up his pencil. He looked at Nancy and his blue eyes were even chillier. “Well, if you’ll tell me where I can find these men, I’ll look into it.”

  “But that’s not what I had in mind,” Nancy said, frustrated. “I need to find out how Darla DeCamp died.”

  The chief stood up. “I’m sorry, Miss Drew,” he said pleasantly, “but that’s the best I can do.”

  “I see.” Nancy stood up too, and cast a mistrustful look at the chief. “Thank you,” she muttered, and left.

  • • •

  Well, there’s more than one way to crack this thing, Nancy told herself as she got back into her Mustang. If the chief wouldn’t cooperate, she’d try something else. She stopped at a phone booth and checked the directory. There was a Howard DeCamp listed at 135 Crown Drive.