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  As she walked back to her car, she tried to make sense of what she had just learned. Of course! she thought. I should have realized right away! The I. Wynn account was just a cover-up account. It was only for drop-off and pick-up purposes. The money was actually going into the PointTech account. It was the perfect cover. Yet there had been no activity in the I. Wynn account at all. Maybe the two thousand dollars represented most of the cash students had paid till then.

  Nancy was distracted from her thoughts as she felt her hands throbbing. It was time to put more anesthetic cream on them, so she started up her car and drove home, hoping her dad wasn’t mad because she hadn’t called him.

  • • •

  “Hannah, that pot roast was delicious,” said Nancy, pushing her empty plate away from her. It turned out that Carson Drew had had to work late anyway, so Nancy and Hannah ate a dinner of pot roast, potatoes, and broccoli alone. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  The housekeeper raised her eyebrows, a teasing glint in her eyes as she said, “I guess that means you won’t be having any of my chocolate-chip cookies.”

  “Bite your tongue!” Nancy exclaimed. “You know I can always find room for a cookie, Hannah.”

  She got up and began helping Hannah clear the table, but the housekeeper waved her away. “I’ll get it, dear. You need to give those poor hands a rest.”

  “Thanks, Hannah.” She gave Hannah a quick hug after grabbing a couple of cookies, and went up to her room. Stretching out on her bed, Nancy simply let her mind wander. In the past she’d discovered that sometimes confusing clues made sense when she did this. She began to drift off to sleep, images from the case swimming through her mind.

  One face continued to reappear—that of Walter Friedbinder. Walter Friedbinder standing next to the faculty mailboxes. Walter Friedbinder making plans to check the filing cabinets. Walter Fried-binder reacting to the note Kim had left him. And, Nancy thought, he knew her real last name.

  She’d noted his odd behavior on several occasions, but she’d been so busy concentrating on Dana and Phyllis and Victor that she hadn’t actively investigated the headmaster.

  Nancy suddenly came fully awake and sat up in her bed. She got up and went to her desk for Friedbinder’s biography. Then she began dialing the universities that he said he’d attended. It was late, though, and she wasn’t able to get through to any of the offices. She’d have to wait until the morning to check on Friedbinder’s background story.

  Propping her elbows on her desk, Nancy rested her chin in her palms. She could be wrong about Friedbinder. After all, Kim was the only suspect she’d ruled out so far.

  She headed downstairs, her mind still on the case, but the sound of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Nancy opened the door to find herself face-to-face with Victor.

  “Hi,” he said a little nervously. “I hope you don’t mind, but I looked up your address in the phone book.”

  An alarm went off in Nancy’s brain. In order to look up her address, Victor had to know her last name—her real last name. “Is that so?” she asked. “How did you know where to look?”

  “Kim told me who you really are.” Victor’s tone was flat. The sparkle in his amber eyes and his easy grin were gone. He was pale and seemed anxious. “I’d like to talk to you,” he said. “Want to take a drive? It’s kind of important.”

  “Okay,” Nancy agreed, grabbing her denim jacket from the hall closet. She called to Hannah to let her know where she was going. “Come on,” she said, pulling the door closed behind them.

  They climbed into Victor’s beat-up car and began to drive. The night had grown foggy, and the streetlights gave only a hazy, dim glow. Occasionally Victor flipped on his wipers to brush the mist from the windshield. For five full minutes neither of them said a word. Then, pulling to a stop at the curb of a residential street, Victor turned to her.

  “So you’re the famous Nancy Drew,” he said. “I guess I’m the guy you’re after, huh?”

  Nancy shot Victor a quick look. What was he saying? Was this an admission that he was the grade-changer? “I don’t know,” she hedged. “Are you?”

  “Don’t play games with me,” Victor said, a rough edge in his voice. “I know changing Phil’s grade wasn’t right, but I’d do it again.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me how it all started,” she said carefully. Nancy didn’t want to reveal that she didn’t know about Phil or even who he was. I’ll just hear Victor out, she decided.

  “That’s simple,” Victor replied. “About a year ago, a guy who’s been a close friend of mine since we were kids told me he was in big trouble. He’s an ace basketball player, and a couple of good universities had their eye on him, but he had flubbed one of his courses during fall semester. He was afraid that they were about to put him on academic probation, right before basketball season started. He’d be bumped from the varsity and lose his chance at a scholarship.”

  “So he asked you to change his grade?” Nancy suggested.

  Victor shook his head. “Not a chance! He never even knew. It was all my idea. I did a good job, too. I didn’t dare change that D he’d gotten. It would have been too easy to spot. So instead, I eased his other grades up, just enough to bring his average above the danger line.”

  “I see,” Nancy said. “And once you found out how easy it was, you decided to keep doing it, only for money.”

  Victor stared at her blankly for a moment before asking, “Is that what’s going on?” His amber eyes grew wide with surprise. “I figured you were trying to find out who changed my pal’s grades. I thought Friedbinder had noticed it and put you on the case. Boy, do I feel dumb! What you’re investigating is much bigger, isn’t it? Well, I can tell you for sure that it’s not me. I don’t care if you believe me or not, it’s the truth. I fiddled with my friend’s record—one time. Afterward I swore I’d never do anything like that again. And I haven’t.”

  Nancy didn’t know what to think. Victor’s manner was very convincing, but all good liars could be convincing. She measured Victor against what she knew about the true criminal. Victor could be made to fit the profile, but only by making a number of unlikely assumptions.

  She didn’t see why he’d tell her about his friend Phil if he really was changing grades for money. Then there was the fact that Nancy’s threatening messages had come from Phyllis Hathaway’s computer. It would probably be pretty hard, if not impossible, for Victor to gain access to her office. And why would he bother when he had easy access to so many other terminals?

  Besides, Nancy had better candidates already, ones who fit the pattern of facts almost perfectly.

  “I guess I blurted out my little secret when I didn’t really need to,” Victor noted. “Are you going to tell Friedbinder?”

  Nancy was silent for a long moment. Then she said, “Why don’t you confess to him yourself, Victor? That would probably help things go more in your favor. I don’t think it would be fair to penalize someone too harshly for one mistake. And I suspect the people in charge at Brewster will end up feeling the same way—once they understand the circumstances.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Victor said in a gloomy voice. He turned around and started the engine, then added, “It’s weird, but I feel better now that you know. Thanks for listening. I’d better get you home.”

  “One more thing,” said Nancy. “Don’t confess right away. Wait a day or so.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “You may be confessing to a whole new set of people,” she told him. “That’s all I can tell you right now.”

  Victor whistled softly. “Sounds like big-time stuff.”

  On the drive back, Nancy settled into her seat and closed her eyes, starting to plan her next move. When she opened them, she saw that they were just passing Brewster Academy.

  “I just saw lights in the school office,” she said urgently, grabbing Victor’s arm. “It’s nearly nine. Who’d be there at this time?”

  Victor pulled over to the c
urb. “Cleaning people?” he suggested, following her gaze. “Maybe they brought somebody in to work on the fire damage.”

  “Maybe,” Nancy replied. “But I’d like to check it out. Do you mind?”

  His answer was to drive into the school parking lot. They got out of the car and walked quietly up to the front door. To Nancy’s surprise, it was open.

  “I don’t like this,” Nancy muttered. “Come on.

  Down the hallway, a fan of light spilled out from the open door to the administration offices. Nancy led the way, creeping on tiptoe, and peeked inside. Dana MacCauley and Phyllis Hathaway were standing in the far corner of Phyllis’s office, staring down at the screen of the computer terminal. Dana was shaking her head, a puzzled expression on her face.

  Suddenly Phyllis let out a cry of alarm. “Dana, do something, quick!” she shouted. “It’s starting to reformat the hard disk. If we can’t save the file, our entire plan will be ruined!”

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  NANCY’S HEART WAS POUNDING. She was tempted to rush in and catch the two women off guard, but there was one thing she had to check first.

  Victor tapped Nancy’s arm, then whispered, “I could probably help them out.”

  That gave Nancy an idea. “Yeah, go ahead,” she said quietly. “Do what you can, and keep them in there for as long as possible.”

  Victor nodded, giving her the thumbs-up sign. Nancy stepped back as Victor sauntered into Phyllis’s office. “Hey, ladies, what’s the problem?” she heard him say in his most upbeat voice. “I saw lights and came to investigate. Don’t want anyone burglarizing my school.”

  “Boy, am I glad you’re here!” Dana exclaimed. “Sit down and see what you can do with this.”

  From the hallway, Nancy watched as Victor sat in front of the computer and began to work. She waited until they were all staring at the computer screen and then stole silently through the anteroom and into Friedbinder’s office. She didn’t dare turn on the light. Outside the security lights glistened through the foggy mist. It would have to be enough light.

  Nancy tugged at the middle drawer of Friedbinder’s desk. It was locked. Taking a letter opener off his desk, she used it to work at the lock. Open, she silently urged it.

  With a satisfying click the lock finally gave, and Nancy pulled open the drawer.

  “Jackpot!” she murmured softly. In the dim light she saw all she needed. Eagerly she sorted through papers. There was a bit of ripped newspaper—the obituary of Ignatz Wynn. The name and address were highlighted in yellow. There was also an opened letter addressed to the deceased Mr. Wynn. Inside was a Social Security check with Wynn’s Social Security number written on it. Nancy recalled the old woman telling her that a man had come by the house. It must have been Friedbinder. He’d been snooping around for the Social Security number, and he’d found it.

  Nancy continued to sort through the papers. On a yellow legal pad she found names and Friedbinder’s notes to himself scrawled casually across the paper. “Sally Lane—$1,000,” read one line. Altogether, Nancy counted six more students’ names with numbers scribbled beside them. On the top of the pad he’d written a note to himself. “Kim Forster—eager to go to college. Needs scholarship. Can’t afford payment. Any use?”

  “You found a use for her, didn’t you,” said Nancy, completely disgusted. She tore the sheet off the pad of paper and stuck it in her jacket pocket. Then she continued to search through the drawer. The next thing she found was a small notepad. Opening it, Nancy saw computer notes. Most of them were unintelligible to Nancy, but she recognized the dots, squiggles, asterisks, and letters as being computer commands. They were definitely in Friedbinder’s handwriting. Here was good proof that Friedbinder had a very sophisticated knowledge of computers!

  Suddenly the sound of raised voices made Nancy jerk up her head. “Mr. Friedbinder!” Victor nearly shouted, warning Nancy. “What are you doing here?”

  “I might ask you the same,” Nancy heard Friedbinder reply, his voice full of accusation. “As if I didn’t know.”

  Shoving the notepad into her jacket pocket, Nancy moved quickly to the door but not quickly enough. She was momentarily blinded as Friedbinder entered his office and snapped on the light. He stopped short when he saw her. “And what are you doing here?” he growled.

  “My job,” she said coolly.

  Friedbinder seemed to relax. “And you’ve done a good job, too,” he said. “I see you’ve witnessed all three of them. I should have guessed they were all in it together.”

  He was trying to pin the whole scam on Phyllis, Dana, and Victor, but Nancy already had the proof she needed. “Why are you here?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

  “Forgot some papers,” he said. “It was just a lucky coincidence I got here in time to see them trying to finish the job they started by setting today’s fire.”

  “What job is that?” asked Nancy.

  “Isn’t it obvious? Trying to destroy evidence of their little grade-changing racket. I guess they realized you were getting close.”

  Friedbinder walked to his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed a number. “Harrison? Walter here. Listen, Nancy Drew and I have our grade-changer,” he said into the receiver. “Can you get down here? Good.”

  At that moment Phyllis Hathaway appeared in the doorway, her face livid with anger. Apparently she’d overheard part of the conversation. “What are you up to now, you—you worm?” she cried.

  “Nice try, Phyllis, but it won’t work,” said Friedbinder, glowering at the assistant headmaster. “I think you can kiss your career as an educator goodbye.”

  “Is that so?” Phyllis replied. “Well, for your information that’s exactly what I intend to do. I’ve just given Dana the last payment making me half owner of PointTech Computers. I’m giving you my notice.”

  That certainly explains a lot, thought Nancy—the money changing hands, the phone calls, the meetings.

  “Why would the records being destroyed spoil your plan?” Nancy asked, recalling what she’d heard Phyllis say when they came in.

  “Because I couldn’t resign with Brewster in the middle of a total computer breakdown. That would be pretty irresponsible. It would look as if I’d done it to make work for PointTech—which is not true,” Phyllis said emphatically. “A major computer problem would delay my leaving by months.”

  “That’s almost convincing,” Friedbinder sneered. “You and your partners don’t fool me. First Dana saddled Brewster with an overelaborate and faulty computer system. That was bad enough. But now this grade-changing plan . . . Is your greed limitless?”

  Nancy observed Friedbinder carefully. He was as tense as a tiger ready to spring. His icy blue eyes were fixed menacingly on Phyllis. He was hardly the controlled headmaster one would expect.

  Dana and Victor walked into the room. “We haven’t done anything wrong,” Dana insisted. “I sold Brewster a fine computer at a fair price. Anyone in the business will say the same. And if you are implying that we are involved in some grade-changing—which I just overheard—you’re insane!”

  “Then what are you doing here now, after school hours?” Friedbinder asked.

  Phyllis stepped forward. “There was a message on my answering machine, saying that someone was going to sabotage the computer system this evening. I thought it was probably a crank call, but I couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t on the level. I collected Dana, and we came right over.”

  “Just in time to see the hard disk erase itself,” said Nancy. “Mr. Friedbinder, I think you have some explaining to do.”

  “What!” he cried. “I—I—you’re in on this, too!” he sputtered.

  “You know that’s a lie,” said Nancy, facing Friedbinder squarely.

  Just then, a breathless Harrison Lane rushed into the office. “What on earth is happening here?” he asked.

  “Ms. Drew seems to have lost her mind completely,” said Friedbinder. “Either that, or these three have
induced her to join their sordid scheme.”

  Turning to Nancy, Lane asked, “What is he saying?”

  “He’s upset because I’ve accused him of being the phantom grade-changer,” Nancy told him, her eyes still on the headmaster. “Which he is.”

  “What!” cried Harrison Lane.

  “You can’t prove anything,” Friedbinder said at the same time. “Those records are completely lost. Erased.”

  “No, not really,” said Dana. “At the end of each workday, the contents of the computer’s hard disk are automatically copied into a high-capacity tape cartridge. That way, no matter what happens, you can’t lose more than one day’s work. I’m surprised at you, Walter. Obviously you didn’t finish reading the user’s manual I provided.”

  “Would those include a record of when and from where the command to erase the hard disk was entered?” Nancy asked.

  Dana smiled. “Yes, they would.”

  “I bet I can access those files right now,” said Victor, leaving the room.

  “I find this hard to believe,” Lane put in. “Why would a man in Walter’s position do such a thing?”

  “Greed,” Nancy suggested.

  “I’ll sue you!” Friedbinder shouted. “You’d better watch your step, Ms. Drew!”

  Victor returned to the office. “I won’t be able to get those records tonight. It’ll take too long.”

  “That’s because there’s nothing to get,” said Friedbinder. “You have nothing on me.”

  “I wouldn’t call these nothing,” said Nancy, pulling the yellow sheet of paper, the newspaper clipping, and the pad of computer notes from her pocket. “ ‘Sally Lane, one thousand dollars . . .’ ”

  All the color drained from Walter Fried-binder’s face as Nancy read the list of students and the amounts he’d gotten from each of them. “Where did you get that?” he sputtered, his face purple. Without waiting for an answer, he lunged toward Nancy.

  Nancy was ready for him, but before he reached her, Victor butted his shoulder into the headmaster’s chest. Friedbinder went flying backward and landed on the floor.