A Race Against Time Read online

  “Well, sometimes sports competitors get really pumped up about a game or a race or whatever,” he said, as if he were teaching me one of the premier rules of life. “Their enthusiasm and exuberance make them do silly things. I figured he was just getting a close look at all that money to remind himself why he was going out there to win.”

  “We’ve had more money pledged this year than ever before,” Mrs. Mahoney said. She nodded several times and popped a sugar-coated almond cookie into her mouth.

  “Well, that’s just it,” I told them. “I’ve talked to that man myself. His name is Jasper, and he isn’t actually one of the racers. He had a mountain bike—”

  “That certainly wouldn’t do,” Mrs. Mahoney interrupted. “You need a good road racer for this course.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “And he was never a part of any of the teams or intending to race at all. So perhaps he was interested in the money for another reason.”

  “I see what you’re saying now,” Officer Rainey said. He put his teacup down and leaned forward, with his elbows on the lace tablecloth. “And I’m not only surprised. I’m really grateful to you. I was told he was one of the bikers.”

  “Who told you that?” I asked.

  “He did,” Officer Rainey said, throwing his hands up in the air. “I tracked him down this afternoon as soon as I knew the money was gone. Of course I was as concerned as you were about his jumping up on the stage. I have to tell you that I’m also very embarrassed that it happened while I was there—that it happened on my watch.” The worried look returned to his face.

  “Now, now,” Mrs. Mahoney said, patting his arm. “There’s enough blame for what happened to go around. The goal now is to get that money back and put the wretch who stole it behind bars.”

  “Well, thank you, but I’m going to feel this way until I personally find the culprit who’s responsible,” Officer Rainey said. “It should never have happened while I was in charge of the safe, and the only way to restore my good reputation is to bring the thief to justice.”

  “What about Ralph Holman?” I asked. “The River Heights police seem to think he’s guilty of something. What are the charges, do you know?”

  “Oh, I don’t believe for a minute that he had anything to do with the robbery,” Mrs. Mahoney said. “I’ve known Ralph all my life. Yes, I know he’s had some financial problems lately. Haven’t we all! But it’s simply not like him to do something illegal to make up for his losses. I’m sure they will never be able to indict him for stealing the Biking for Bucks pledge money. That’s just more of Chief McGinnis’s grandstanding: Arrest someone immediately. Never mind whether you have the actual criminal or not.”

  “You said you tracked down this Jasper guy,” I said to Officer Rainey. “Does he live in town? I don’t remember seeing him before.”

  “Not exactly,” Officer Rainey said. “I think he lives south of River Heights. I don’t know where—when I talked to him, he was still hanging around town.”

  “And you still considered him a suspect after talking to him?” I asked.

  “Absolutely,” he answered. “And you don’t need to worry about the case any longer. I’ll find him, believe me. And when I do, I’ll find that money and get it back in the safe.”

  “Good luck,” I said, standing up. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Mahoney. Please don’t get up. I can see myself out.”

  “Thank you for coming, Nancy,” she said. “It’s always delightful to see you.”

  As I left the conservatory, I could hear the two of them whispering about me and about the case.

  I slowly wheeled my bike away from the Mahoney mansion. Luther’s voice echoed in my mind, telling me to follow the river. Then I heard the voices of Susie saying that Jasper Red Shorts lived somewhere on the river, and Officer Rainey telling me he thought Jasper lived south of River Heights. Hmmm.

  The closest international airport was in the state capital, downriver. It would be a great place to lose yourself or get out of the country if you’d just ripped off tens of thousands of dollars from a charity. . . .

  I was just three blocks away from the river. When I got there I turned south. Most of the land for miles along the river had been set aside as wilderness, public trails, and parks. So there weren’t that many residents down that way. If Jasper lived south along the river, I’d find him—and I’d check out every house and shack along the way if I had to.

  I also planned to check for hidden boat-launching sites and keep an eye out for anyone cruising the river that night. I had the photo of the mountain bike tire pattern, and that would be a big help. If I was lucky, I’d find the same pattern along the muddy bank and just follow the trail from there.

  I had plenty to tell Bess, George, and Ned now. I reached behind my saddle and pulled out the cell phone. I didn’t know whether they’d be within calling range or not, so I was excited when Ned answered on the first ring.

  “Nancy! It’s about time!” he said. “What’s happening? Where are you? What are you doing?”

  “I’m heading south along the river,” I said. “How far did you get on the course?”

  “We didn’t make it to Swain Lake,” he said. “But Bess was outstanding. We lost some ground . . . not much. We’re only behind Deirdre’s team by about twenty minutes. George was finally able to hack into the GPS system on her computer, so we know exactly where Deirdre’s team is camping.”

  “And where are you now?”

  “We’re on the river near Rocky Edge.”

  “I’m heading that way. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

  “Okay, be quiet when you come in,” Ned warned me. “Deirdre’s team isn’t far away, and we don’t want them to know you’re coming.”

  “Good idea,” I said. I hung up, grateful that I could stop and see my friends—and most of all, get another change of clothes and a chance to rest.

  When I neared Rocky Edge, I stopped pedaling and coasted the rest of the way down the bank. I felt a shot of much-needed adrenaline and warm feelings just seeing the small campfire my friends had built.

  We all talked at once for the first several minutes—but we did so quietly. We knew our voices would carry to campsites farther up the river. And we certainly didn’t put it past Deirdre or her gang to plant a spy nearby to listen in on our conversations.

  “Bess was fantastic,” George told me. “She kept really close to Deirdre. I am so primed to tear up the course tomorrow morning. I’ll cover Thad Jensen with mud as I fly back up this river!”

  “What have you found out, Nancy?” Ned asked. “Tell us what’s happening.”

  I filled them in on my day: talking to Luther, being caught by Chief McGinnis prowling around the back door of the bank, watching Mr. Holman being taken away in handcuffs, digging up the mountain bike tire track, talking to Red Shorts at Susie’s, and interviewing Officer Rainey at Mrs. Mahoney’s.

  “So you didn’t get much accomplished, right?” George said with a smile.

  “Yeah, right,” I said, smirking back.

  “Looks like Red Shorts is the guy, don’t you think?” Bess asked.

  “He seems to be,” I answered. “But I don’t know . . . he sure didn’t act like someone planning a major escape. That bothers me. And how does Mr. Holman fit in? Is he calling the shots? Are they accomplices? I have a feeling I’m missing something important, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want us to work with you, and we’ll all bring in the bad guy together?” Ned added. “We might be able to help.”

  “I know, but I still feel strongly that there’s a lot at stake here as far as the race is concerned. I plan to solve this case—and in the meantime our team needs to fulfill its pledges.”

  “And grind Deirdre and the boys into the ground once and for all,” George added. Always competitive, that George.

  “But if you don’t find the money, it doesn’t matter who wins the race,” Bess pointed out.

  “I’ll find
the money,” I insisted. “You win the race!”

  When I said that, I got another rush of adrenaline. A real urgency flooded over me. I had to make good on that promise.

  I quickly put on fresh biking shorts and a jersey. Then I pulled on a hoodie and workout pants over the bike clothes. The late-night air had turned chilly.

  “I packed a sandwich, snacks, an energy drink, and a couple more energy bars in your panniers,” Bess said.

  “Thanks,” I said. “And thanks most of all for bringing extra biking clothes!”

  We all clasped hands and pumped them in the air. There was no cheer this time in case the nearby wilderness hid human ears. With hugs all around, and a kiss for Ned, I was on my way again. It was eleven fifteen.

  I stayed off the main bike trail—the one that the racers would be using the next day. Instead I took the old path that ran between the public trail and the river.

  The old path was hidden by undergrowth and weeds. It was a little rougher than the trail, but nothing the backup bike and I couldn’t handle. And I figured that someone on a mountain bike would be more likely to use the older path. I also didn’t want to call any attention to myself, since I knew other bikers might be camping along the riverbank and might wonder whose bike headlight was coming at them.

  At first both the darkness ahead and the glare of my headlight were startling when I pulled away from the bright flames of the campfire. But my eyes gradually got accustomed to both extremes. I watched the path ahead carefully.

  I had ridden just a little over three miles when I saw it in the river bank mud—the perfect squiggles of a mountain bike tire track.

  12

  A Dangerous Switch

  I stopped my bike, got out the photograph of Jasper’s bike tire tread, and brought it close to my bike’s headlight beam. It was an exact match to the one on the old path.

  A cool shiver cascaded down my spine, causing goose bumps to pop up under the sleeves of my hoodie. I jumped back on my cycle and followed the mountain bike trail. It was patchy, and once in a while it would phase out altogether for a few yards. But then I’d pick it up again in my headlight. Jasper’s bike had definitely traveled this same path. That is, Jasper’s brother’s bike had traveled this same path.

  Another wave of chills. Jasper’s brother, I reminded myself. Jasper told me he was going to use the bike this weekend, but then his brother needed it back because . . . because . . . his brother’s car had broken down after the race started.

  “Yikes!” I said out loud, and then clapped my hand over my mouth, hoping no one had heard me. Of course!

  Charlie Adams told us that he had been on a service call to fix Officer Rainey’s water pump right after the race had started. And Jasper told me that his brother needed the mountain bike back right after the race began because his car had broken down. Jasper never told me his full name. Could his last name be Rainey?

  I pulled the brakes and stopped my bike. I dropped my left foot down to lean on for support. I needed a few moments to follow my trail of thought, instead of the bike trail.

  In my mind I went over every word that I could remember of my conversation with Officer Rainey and Mrs. Mahoney while we had tea in the conservatory.

  Officer Rainey had told me at first that he wasn’t concerned about Jasper jumping up on the stage that morning because he thought he was merely an eager competitor. Was that why he smiled when he hustled Jasper back off the stage? Was it a friendly smile from a public servant? Or a smile of recognition for a brother?

  Seemed too simple. There’s more, I told myself. Think.

  What was it Officer Rainey said about talking to Jasper later? Oh, yes—he said he didn’t know where Jasper lived, because when he had interviewed him that afternoon, Jasper was still hanging around town.

  But wait a minute—he also thanked me for telling him that Jasper was not one of the racers.

  Of course! That’s what I’d been trying to figure out for the last hour. Officer Rainey was lying! If Jasper was still hanging around in the afternoon, Rainey already knew he wasn’t in the race. Rainey either lied when he said he thought that Jasper was one of the racers, or when he said he talked to Jasper that afternoon. Either way, Rainey hadn’t been honest. And it didn’t matter whether he was lying to protect his criminal brother or lying to protect his own criminal skin. He had some major explaining to do.

  I got back in the saddle and picked up the trail of mountain bike treads in the mud. After a few more miles the tracks veered off the old path and down a rugged hill toward a large cluster of trees and bushes. A DEAD END sign was posted at the top of the hill.

  I turned off my headlight, pulled my bike off the path, and hid it in a large bramble bush. I took my backpack out of one of the panniers and checked the contents. I emptied out the comb and lip balm and other stuff I didn’t need. I didn’t know how long I’d be hiking, so I wanted to keep the pack as light as possible.

  I took my cell phone, pen and notebook, pocket-knife, energy bars, and penlight. Then I pushed my bike, my helmet, and the other stuff I was dumping under the bramble bush. Unless someone was looking for it, it wouldn’t be spotted.

  Quietly I started hiking down the hill, following the trail of Jasper’s brother’s mountain bike. There was just enough moonlight to see where I was going. When I got to the edge of the river, the bike trail ended—and I saw something moving gently ahead. A decrepit fishing boat bumped at the end of a very short pier.

  I ducked behind a fallen tree and watched the area for a few minutes. There was nothing—no sound, except the lapping water and the bumping boat. No one in sight. I waited a few more minutes to muster my courage, and also to plot an escape route. Then I darted straight for the little pier.

  I crept quickly across the creaky planks and gazed into the boat. There was a small cabin in the middle of the deck, but it was mostly windows. I crouched to look through the glass. No one was on board—at least until I stepped off the pier onto the deck.

  The boat was pretty run down, and I saw nothing that would identify the owner. I stepped inside the cabin, which meant I walked down three short steps. Pulling the penlight from my backpack, I swung the beam around the small room.

  A built-in bench along one wall had an old mattress stretched over it. One rickety-looking wooden kitchen chair and a couple of barstools made up the rest of the furniture. A hot plate, an electric popcorn popper, and assorted dishes—both clean and dirty—filled the counter and sink in one back corner. Next to that was a tiny closet full of canned goods with a fishy-smelling canvas deck cover wadded on its floor. The other corner in the back contained a door leading to the teeniest bathroom I’d ever seen—even smaller than the ones on planes.

  There was trash piled everywhere in the main room—stacks of newspapers, food wrappers, empty bags—but nothing that looked as if it could be holding a wad of stolen cash. There were no closets. I checked the one cupboard under the sink. There were some pretty disgusting things under there, but no money.

  I went to the bench that ran along the wall. I really didn’t want to touch the mattress, so I gently kicked the front of the bench. Hollow. I went to the end and pushed at the corners. The top corner was firm, but the bottom gave a little.

  There was no handle, but I wiggled my finger under the wood and tugged. Half the wooden front pulled up like a door hinged at the top. Inside was a set of panniers, a little larger than the ones my team had. They looked like they could serve as saddlebags for a mountain bike.

  I eased the bags out onto the floor. They were bulky and heavy. Sure enough, when I opened them up, I found neatly wrapped stacks of cash.

  Thinking quickly, I stuffed the money into my backpack. Then I grabbed a handful of newspapers from the ones scattered around the floor, and shoved them into the panniers. I would give Rainey a taste of his own medicine.

  I jammed the panniers back into the hidden cupboard and dropped the door down. Then I closed the door, so that it looked exactly the way it
had when I found it.

  Finally I stood up and swung the backpack full of money onto my back. My only thought was to get off the boat. My heart was beating so fast I felt like it would pop right out of my chest. I couldn’t even hear the boat bumping against the pier anymore, because the pulse in my temples drowned out all other noises.

  Well, almost all noises.

  The sound of clattering metal landing on the deck outside the little cabin rang out into the night. The boat dipped hard to the right, and I had to take a step to keep my balance. Something had been thrown onto the boat deck, and it sounded like it might have been the mountain bike.

  I jumped up and raced for the closet. Another unsettling dip to the right was followed by the sound of footsteps. Someone had stepped onto the deck!

  I ducked into the closet and pulled the door shut. As I locked myself in the tiny room, the boat motor chugged to life.

  13

  Rattled!

  The light in the room was dim, and the door was only inches from my face. I felt the boat lurch to the right and start to move fast. An arc of light washed over my left shoulder. I looked up and saw a small vent opening at the top of the closet wall. The moonlight was filtering through a screen mesh. That meant we were heading south.

  I was pretty sure that there was no one else on the boat but the person who was piloting it, so I knew I could move around and change positions without being heard. It was definitely close quarters, but there was a little room for movement.

  I was really worried about a couple of things. One, that the pilot would come into the cabin and try to get into the closet. Or two, that he would come into the cabin to check the money. Either way I was in trouble. I assumed it would be a he, because I was thinking it would be either Jasper or Officer Rainey.

  What would I do or say if I was discovered? If it was Officer Rainey, I could pretend that I was happy to see him and treat him as if I thought he was tracking the bad guy just the way I was. If Jasper discovered me, my response would have to be different. Either way, I’d have to pretend I knew nothing about the money on board, and try to distract whomever it was from getting close to my backpack. My goal would be to get away as fast as I could—with the money.