Carolyn Keene - Trial By Fire

As soon as Jim left, Ned said, “Nancy, don’t try it without me, understand? I leave at two, when the Gold Star guys take over. We can-”

“What do you mean, the Gold Star guys take over?”

“The dispatcher’s worked out a deal with my boss. They close the wash to the public at two and run the cabs through.”

“Every night?” Nancy asked, puzzled.

“I guess so.”

Nancy leaned against the wall. “That’s funny. Brownley told me that if the cab was dirty at the end of my shift, to run it through your place. If he tells all the drivers that, what’s left to wash?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve got to run. There goes a customer in the front. Promise me you won’t do anything without me, okay?”

“I promise. The Mustang’s parked in the public garage. Second level. I’ll wait there for you.”

“Deal.” Ned bent down and kissed her. Then he sprinted into the gaudy glare of the car wash.

When he had disappeared inside, Nancy trotted around the block. There was no reason she couldn’t just look inside Fleet’s from the street. She wouldn’t go inside, just look.

Fleet’s rollup door was open halfway. Stooping to peer under it, Nancy saw a line of vans backed against the side walls. Some were larger than others, but they were all white and all had aerials for two-way radios. A glassed-in office, similar to the one next door at Gold Star, was tucked just inside the door.

Nancy scooted across to the other side and squinted at the door of the office. Above it was a sign: Fleet’s Courier Service. P. Reston, Proprietor. This was getting better and better!

Nancy glanced at her watch, wondering if she should wake her father’s secretary to ask if the firm used Fleet’s. No, it was after one. It could wait. It was even more tempting to call Ann. The reporter kept weird hours, and she might still be up.

Dashing past Gold Star, Nancy darted into the alley. She’d get the Mustang and find a phone.

Then she heard a sound behind her. Someone else had walked into the alley.

Reston. Nancy stepped back, pressing against the side of the garage. Reston walked across the mouth of the alley to an old car parked alongside the car wash. He opened the trunk, took something out, and then headed back toward the entrance of Gold Star.

Hugging the shadows, Nancy slithered along the wall toward the car he’d just left. This was not the Buick he had driven the night before. In fact-

She tried the door on the driver’s side. It was unlocked. Opening it just long enough for the ceiling light to come on, Nancy checked the interior. This was the car Reston had driven when he had kidnapped her!

Maybe I should check the trunk, she thought, removing the lock pick from her wallet. In less than fifteen seconds she had it open. Using her penlight was chancy but worth the risk if she found something important.

As it was, the contents were certainly interesting-several boxes of blank hack licenses, and the kind of dated stickers that were glued on the windshield of taxis after they had passed inspection.

Wedged in the corner was an unopened box marked Fragile. Nancy’s curiosity got the best of her. She leaned in and played her penlight across the printing on its side: “Nature Under Glass. Fragile. This End Up.” Nancy tried to pull it toward her. It was surprisingly heavy.

You’re getting sidetracked, Drew, she told herself. Maybe it was a present for his wife or something. The important discoveries were the hack licenses and the inspection stickers.

Suddenly Nancy heard someone stepping from the sidewalk into the alley. She glanced up and realized with horror that it was Reston. Stooping quickly, she eased the trunk down, hoping she could duck-walk back into the shadows beside the building.

But at that moment a cab came around the corner and signaled for the turn into the car wash. Midway through that turn, its headlights would sweep over Reston’s car. Even if Nancy were lucky enough for Reston to miss seeing her crouching by his trunk, there was no way the cabbie could miss her. She was trapped.

There was only one thing for Nancy to do. She hadn’t closed the lid of Reston’s trunk because he might have heard it. Easing it up again, she hooked one leg over and folded herself inside, lowering the lid again. A few seconds later she heard Reston climb into the driver’s seat and start the car.

Nancy held the trunk open slightly so she could watch where Reston drove. He pulled out on McConnell, drove to the end of the block, and turned right. When he approached the next corner, he began to slow. There was a traffic signal at that intersection, and Nancy prayed it had caught him. Reston came to a complete stop-and Nancy didn’t wait to guess why. She raised the lid of the trunk.

Down the street, a pair of headlights cut a yellow path through the night as a car turned from McConnell and came toward them. The driver might be able to see her, but there was nothing she could do about it. Nancy scrambled out, keeping the trunk lid low, lowered it, and took off for the sidewalk. The light changed, and Reston disappeared around the corner. He hadn’t spotted her!

Nancy stepped into the shadow of the awning of a shoe-repair shop. The car approaching the intersection slowed. Was it following her? Nancy tensed, then sighed with relief when she saw Ned in the driver’s seat.

“Boy, am I glad to see you!” she said, hurrying around to the passenger side.

“Nancy Drew, have you flipped? What were you doing?”

“Looking to see what was in his trunk. Ned, that was Reston-the man who snatched me out of the Grand that day,” she said, climbing in beside him.

“One ride with him wasn’t enough?” Ned shook his head with exasperation. Then he reached over and pulled her close. “You drive me crazy sometimes. What did you find that was worth getting trapped for?”

“Cab inspection stickers, for one. That’s how Gold Star’s been able to keep such rattletraps on the road. They don’t go through inspection at all.”

“Which means someone in the Department of Licenses and Inspections is being paid off. That’s serious and worth going to a lot of trouble to hide.”

“Uh-huh,” Nancy said. “There were blank hack licenses in the trunk, too. Honest people have to fill out an application downtown, pay good money, and wait to get one. Brownley’s passing out the things as if they’re business cards. I know, I got one.”

“Then we’re talking about more than one person being on the receiving end of bribe money. When this gets out, it’s going to rip the city apart!”

Nancy set her jaw. “That’s just too bad. They’re trying to rip my dad apart, aren’t they?” Then Nancy’s good humor returned. “Say, how’d you get away from the car wash so fast? And weren’t you going to meet me at my car?”

“Nothing was happening, so I asked the boss if I could leave early. I was going to grab something to eat at the all-night deli before I met you to check out the courier service.”

“Oh.” Nancy winced. There was no way she could avoid telling him she had taken a short look without him. “I-I sort of strolled past it. Guess what? Reston runs Fleet’s,” she said as they drove toward the deli.

That bit of news was enough to make Ned forget she was supposed to have waited for him. “You’re kidding!”

“And couriers swarm all over Judiciary Square every day. There were two or three in and out of Ms. Hanson’s office while I was looking for a bug. I don’t know if any of them are from Fleet’s, but of course I’ll check it out.”

A sudden thought skittered around in Nancy’s mind, but it disappeared before she could capture it. She couldn’t even imagine what had triggered it. At last she decided she’d better just relax and let the thought come back in its own time.