Carolyn Keene - Trial By Fire

Luck seemed to be on everyone’s mind that day, Nancy thought as she locked the door behind her.

The law offices of Carson Drew and his associates always made Nancy feel as if she should whisper. With its solid mahogany desks, leather-upholstered chairs, and wood-paneled walls, there was a quiet, dignified aura about it. The tang of lemon oil scented the air, mixed with the smell of leather-bound law books.

Her father’s secretary, Ms. Hanson, welcomed Nancy and opened the door of Carson Drew’s office for her. “If there’s anything you need-if you have any questions-just ask. We’ll help in any way we can.” She slipped silently from the room.

Her back against the door, Nancy looked around. There were so many places a bug might be hidden-behind any of the hundreds of books that lined one wall, in the lamps or ceiling fixtures, under the furniture.

But she decided to eliminate the obvious first. Crossing to her father’s enormous desk, Nancy opened the top righthand drawer and removed a wooden box, a container for cassette tapes.

“I will only tape a client’s conversation with his permission,” her father had explained. “And only for important information that I need to remember word for word. It’s treated completely confidentially. When I’m not there, that box is locked.”

Nancy used the key Carson had given her and lifted the lid. There were slots for twenty-four cassettes, and all the slots were filled, just as her father had told her they would be.

But she wasn’t ready to accept that at face value. Someone might have removed a tape and replaced it with another to make sure the first one wouldn’t be missed.

She played them all on fast forward so that she could be certain those two dozen tapes were what they were supposed to be. They were.

That done, she began a thorough search of the office. There wasn’t much on her father’s desk: a blotter; the telephone; a pen set in an oiled walnut holder; a paperweight, a heavy glass dome with a black-eyed susan embedded in it. A ladybug was perched at the edge of one leaf, and the top of the dome had holes for pencils. Nancy pulled off her jacket, draped it over a chair, and went to work.

An hour later she sat down, discouraged and frustrated. She had been completely sure that either someone had swiped one of her dad’s tapes or that they had bugged his office and recorded his voice that way. But after going over his office with a fine-tooth comb, she hadn’t found a thing. Where was that luck everyone had wished her that morning?

At the sound of voices, Nancy looked up. There was a courier from a messenger service in the outer office, drinking coffee from a Styrofoam cup while Ms. Hanson prepared an envelope for him to take. From their conversation, Nancy could tell he was a regular visitor. Nancy waited impatiently in her father’s office until he finally left. Now she could check for bugs out there.

Ms. Hanson sat at her desk, her face taut with anxiety as Nancy examined the outer office. It took longer because there were filing cabinets to check, but in the end the result was the same-no bug.

“I’ve had it,” Nancy said finally. “I can’t find a bug.” She retrieved her jacket and tucked her purse under her arm. “Thanks for putting up with me,” she told the secretary.

“I’m almost sorry there was nothing here,” Ms. Hanson said. “It’s just so awful. If you think of any way that I can help, please call me.”

Nancy promised she would and said goodbye. As she walked through the halls, she was surprised at the amount of traffic in and out of the office-mail clerks, maintenance workers, couriers, clients. Any one of them could have slipped into her father’s office and-

And what? she asked herself. Would she be able to find out in time? For that matter, how much time did she have? Her father was sure he’d have a pretrial date by the end of the day. Then she’d know.

Her second chore for the day took Nancy to several different locations. Her goal was to learn whatever she could about the Gold Star Cab Company. Each place she went, she told them the same story.

“Hi. I’m a student at Emerson College. I’m writing a term paper on the growth of transportation in River Heights. I’ve researched the bus service. Can you help me with the cab companies?”

She always followed the question with a winning smile. It never failed to make things easier. Everyone she talked to was very cooperative, some telling her far more than she’d ever need to know.

After visits to the Office of Public Safety, the central headquarters of the River Heights Police Department, and the Hacks Bureau, Nancy was beginning to wonder if she was on the right track. There seemed to be nothing unusual about the Gold Star Cab Company.

Checking her watch, Nancy left the building that housed the Hacks Bureau. Unless she hurried, she’d be late for her lunch meeting with Ned, Bess, and Ann.

Nancy tucked her notes in her bag and started across the street to the lot where she had left her car.

She heard trouble coming before she could see it. It was the sound of a powerful engine being pushed to its maximum. Seconds later she saw it-a dark late-model car racing around the corner and heading directly for her at top speed!

Still shaken by her near encounter with the dark car, Nancy met Ned at the door of the Pizza Palace just as he was leaving to go look for her. “There you are. We’ve already ordered.”

Ann and Bess were waiting in a booth, Bess’s deep pink jumpsuit clashing with the bright orange and purple vinyl seats. The place was jammed with students from a nearby junior college.

“Stop staring at me,” Nancy ordered her friends. “I got dirty dodging a car that tried to hit me. He missed me by a hair.”

“A drunk driver?” Ann asked.

“Not on your life-I mean, my life. He tried his best to hit me.”

Ned’s expression was grim. “Did you get his license number?”

“No. I jumped back behind a filthy minivan at the curb. By the time I could look, the car was gone and I was dirty. Did you guys have any trouble today?”

“Not a bit,” Bess answered. “It’s been fun.”

Ann chuckled. “It’s a good thing she was with me. One Bess Marvin smile, and every male in the computer room is searching data banks to get the information you asked for.”

“That’s great. Keep smiling, Bess.” Nancy turned to Ned. “How’d you do?”

He removed a notepad from his pocket. “So far I’ve got the names of seven businesses that use white vans. I’ll keep at it this afternoon. Then tomorrow I’ll hit all these places and see if I can find your van with the bent fender. How’d things go at the office?”

Before Nancy could respond, a waitress slid two huge pizzas onto the table. They smelled incredibly good, and Nancy’s stomach growled in anticipation.

“I didn’t find a thing in my dad’s office,” she said, removing her first slice. “Whoever planted the bug must have come back and taken it out. As for the cab company, that was a washout, too.”

“What’s a cab company got to do with anything?” Ann asked.

Nancy explained about the voice she’d heard over the two-way radio in her abductor’s car and in the Gold Star cab. “Gold Star checked out okay,” she said. “In business over twenty years, owned by two local men. They have ten cabs and a dynamite safety record. Not a single accident in the past three years.”

Ann peeled off a circle of pepperoni from her slice. “I could have told you that. It was one of the businesses insured by-” She paused, frowning. “By Mid-City Insurance Company,” she said slowly.

“Coincidence?” Ned asked, gazing at Nancy.

“I don’t know. On paper they’re certainly good guys,” she responded. “Several public service awards, one of them from the Gray Panthers for offering senior citizens lower fares.”