Carolyn Keene - Two Points to Murder

Silence. For several minutes the foursome sifted the clues in their minds. For her part, Nancy felt that one suspect stood out more than any other—Mike O’Shea. He had not been with the team when the tire was shot. There was also the effigy material in his room. Should she voice her suspicion? She knew how Ned would react, but that was not the reason she kept quiet.

The reason was that she now had another strong suspect—Ray Ungar. That morning at the rifle range she had learned that he was a crack marksman. Could he have been the one who shot out the bus’s tire? Unless he had a rock-solid alibi, it was possible, she knew.

It was George who suggested the third suspect. “I think it’s that creep Tom Stafford,” she said forcefully.

“Tom! Why him?” Ned asked.

“Well, he wants the trustees to cut the P.E. department’s budget, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“There you go! He’s sabotaging the Wildcats’ season in order to give the trustees an excuse to zap the funding.”

“I don’t know . . . that sounds too elaborate,” Ned said doubtfully.

“Come on, the guy’s a fanatic! He’d do anything to further his cause!”

George had a point, Nancy had to admit. Tom was an idealist, and idealists sometimes got carried away. At any rate, they, had a motive for Tom—more than she could say about Mike!

“I think you have it wrong, George,” Bess declared. “I think the joker is that weirdo Ray Ungar that Nancy told us about.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because he hates the Wildcats. Or at least Coach Burnett. I say he’s playing the pranks as revenge for being kicked off the team.”

Nodding, Nancy filled them in on her encounter with Ray in the rifle range.

“That clinches it as far as I’m concerned,” Ned said grimly. “Ray’s our man. All we have to do is find out whether he has an alibi for this afternoon and if he drives a Camaro.”

“Forget it. It’s not going to be that easy,” Nancy objected. “Naturally, the joker’s going to have an alibi. And as for the Camaro . . . he’d be a fool to drive it around openly.”

“And our practical joker is no fool,” George added.

“I suppose you’re right.”

Another silence fell. Where did they go from here? Nancy wondered. Tom, Ray, Mike—any of them could be the practical joker. Each had points in his favor, yet there wasn’t enough evidence to pin down any of them.

Once again they were at a dead end. She felt more frustrated than ever. The bigger this case grew, the harder it seemed to be to crack. Whoever he was, this practical joker had earned her respect: With one possible exception, he had pulled off all his crimes without leaving any clues.

Back at Emerson, the young detective said an awkward goodnight to Ned and started back to the dorm with her friends. The three walked in silence. Their mood was gloomy.

Finally, Bess spoke. “This is awful. It seems like there’s no way to catch this guy. You’ve seen him, though, right?”

“Last night in the parking lot,” George said, “didn’t you get any idea about who he might be?”

Nancy sighed. “No, and believe me, I’ve thought about it plenty. All I could tell was that the guy is tall and thin. That description could fit lots of people.”

“Like Tom.”

“Or Ray.”

“Or Mike,” Nancy concluded.

Not even seeing the practical joker in the flesh had done any good! Maybe Bess was right, Nancy thought darkly. Maybe there wasn’t any way to catch him at all!

A few minutes later, the trio rounded the corner of a large, windowless brick building. From the tall smokestack rising above it, Nancy guessed that it was the college’s central heating plant.

Suddenly George grabbed Nancy’s arm. “Nancy, look . . . over there by that fence! It’s the Camaro!”

Chapter Nine

Nancy’s heart began to race. George was right! To one side a short drive widened into a small shipping yard. On the yard’s far side, parked near a snow fence, was the Camaro!

There was no question that it was the one. It had the same smoked windows and the same custom hubcaps.

“I don’t believe it! What a break!” Nancy nearly shouted. “I’m going over there to get its license number.”

Bess whitened. “But, Nan, that guy could be somewhere around here!”

“I’ll be careful.”

As she started toward it, however, the car’s headlights blazed on. Its engine roared to life. The driver was still inside—the dark windows had hidden him from view!

Nancy watched in horror as the car leapt forward with a screech. He was going to get away! She had to stop him!

She glanced around wildly. At the top of the entrance drive was a pyramid of steel drums. She ran toward them, her hair flying. When she reached them she pushed with all her might, praying that they were empty.

They were. The top three drums tumbled over and began to roll slowly. Trapped, the Camaro skidded to a stop. Smoke spun from its rear tires as it flew backward. In no time it came to a stop near the open loading-bay door that led into the heating plant. What was he doing?

The driver’s door swung open. For a brief instant his tall, thin figure was silhouetted in the plant’s doorway. Then he disappeared inside.

“Quick! He’s getting away! Let’s go after him!” Nancy shouted.

George caught her at the entrance. “Nancy, don’t you think we should just get the license number and call the police?”

“Yes, let the cops handle it,” Bess agreed as she ran up.

“No way! Don’t you see? This is probably the only entrance to the building—we can trap him inside! Come on, you guys!”

Inside, Nancy tugged on the chain to the overhead door. It wouldn’t budge.

“Oh no! We’re going to have to hunt him down! George, you and Bess go around to the right. I’ll go the other way.”

“But, Nancy—!”

“Be careful. He probably has his gun.”

Nancy didn’t give them time to object. Quick as a flash she darted to the left, making her way around the side of a massive steam turbine, the noise from which was deafening.

The corridor ahead of her was empty. She crept forward warily, prepared to throw herself to the floor at any second. She reached the corridor’s end without a problem, though. Trembling slightly, she peered around the corner.

The corridor jogged right for ten feet, then left again. Nancy took the double corner cautiously, then crept forward once more. Tension mounted inside her. Somewhere ahead was the practical joker. Was it Mike? Ray? Tom? Whoever he was, he was very likely armed and dangerous!

Finally, she reached the last corner. She was at the back of the heating plant, she knew. With George and Bess coming down the other side, that meant that the joker was trapped. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she flattened herself against a wire mesh cage and risked a peek.

George and Bess were coming toward her, looks of fear on their faces.

Nancy stepped around the corner with a cry. “Hey! Where did he go?”

Her friends jumped. Bess looked ready to faint. “Aaargh! Don’t do that! You nearly scared me to death, Nancy!”

“Sorry. I was sure we had him trapped back here. What happened?”

George pointed. “Look!”

Off to their left, a large tunnel angled down and away from the heating plant. Attached to its walls were dozens of pipes and ducts. So! There was another way out!

“What is that?” Bess asked. “What are all those pipes?”

Nancy started toward the opening. “They hold the electrical cables, I’ll bet. The ducts probably carry leftover steam from the turbines.”

“Carry it where?”

“To the other buildings, for heat.”

George’s eyes bugged out. “Nancy, are you saying there’s a maze of tunnels under the campus?”