Carolyn Keene - Two Points to Murder

Nancy unzipped her jacket and dropped into the chair next to Ned’s. “Didn’t you tell me that Ray never goes to Wildcat games?”

“Yes. He once swore he’d never attend another one as long as he lives.”

“Yet there he is among the spectators! Don’t you find that odd?”

Understanding flashed in Ned’s eyes. “It was a deliberate deception, you mean? We were told we wouldn’t see him, therefore we didn’t?”

“Right! And it allowed Ray to do what he really wanted to do—sit in the bleachers and enjoy the effects of his practical jokes!”

Beaming, Ned leapt up and crushed her in a joyful hug. “Nancy, you’ve done it again! Now Mike is in the clear!”

It felt wonderful to have Ned’s arms around her again. As she hugged him back, though, something nagged at the back of her mind. After a minute, she pulled away.

“Ned, play it over again, will you?”

“Sure thing. Wait until everyone sees this!”

Nancy shook her head as the scene unfolded once more. The camera focused on Ray for only a second or two, but it was long enough for her to realize that she had been wrong.

“I’m sorry, Ned, but it looks to me like Ray is cheering Mike’s basket.”

Ned’s face fell. “What are you saying?”

“That Ray can’t be the practical joker. If he were, then why would he cheer for the Wildcats?”

“But, Nancy, you just said—”

“I know. I spoke too soon.”

They reran the tape several more times, but each viewing only reinforced Nancy’s belief that her theory was incorrect. Why Ray was supporting Emerson she didn’t know, but he was no longer her prime suspect.

Ned reacted angrily. “I don’t believe this! One minute you’re telling me Mike is okay, and the next you’re accusing him again!”

“I can’t help it. Facts are facts.”

“What facts ? That tape doesn’t clear Ray.”

Not totally, she had to agree. It was possible—just possible—that even though he was cheering for Emerson he was still responsible for the pranks. But Nancy didn’t think so.

“Ned, Ray isn’t the practical joker. It’s just common sense,” she stated.

“Oh, sure. He dumps on the team, even holds a pistol to your head, and you call it common sense? Wake up, Nancy! Ray’s crazy! Can’t you see that?”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t make him guilty.”

“It doesn’t make him look very innocent, either.”

“Ned, all we have against Ray are suspicions. With Mike we have hard evidence!”

“That box of packing chips?” Ned snorted. “That’s not enough for me. If you’re going to change my mind, you’ll have to show me more.”

Furious, Nancy rose from her chair. All at once she was fed up with Ned’s attitude. Why did he have to be so pig-headed? Why did he have to fight her this way? She clenched her fists.

“All right, Nickerson. It’s evidence you want? Then evidence you’ll get!” She was trembling. “And don’t try to stop me!”

“Nancy, what are you planning?”

“Why should I tell you?” she cried.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She laughed bitterly. “Ha! I don’t think you care about me at all!”

With that, she whirled around and stormed from the room.

Nancy was still seething that night as she stood outside the sports complex. Over and over again she pictured Ned’s stubborn expression and heard his hostile words. I’ll show him, she thought.

Snow was swirling around her, but she didn’t go inside. Instead, she stood in the shadows, watching the building’s entrance. Once in a while she stamped her feet or rubbed her arms.

She checked her watch. The illuminated dial read 11:35 p.m. There was still time, she knew, but she was mildly worried. The building would close for the night in twenty-five minutes.

Finally, she got her chance. Through the glass entrance doors she saw the security guard leave his desk. Quickly she ran up and slipped inside. She had done it! She had gotten in without signing the guest register!

Walking casually, she made her way to the girls’ locker room, entered a toilet stall, locked the door, stood on the seat . . . and waited.

Midnight arrived. As it did, the security guards swept through the building to make sure it was empty. Because they were male, Nancy guessed that they would give the girls’ locker room only a superficial glance. She was right. No one bothered to check the stall in which she was hidden, even though its door was shut and locked.

The lights went out. Nancy waited ten minutes, then moved. Her destination lay down a side hall, away from the main thoroughfares, so she didn’t have to worry much about running into one of the security guards. Along a row of administrative offices she did have to dart past one lighted doorway, though. Who would still be working at this hour? she wondered briefly. The next moment she forgot her question and continued on.

The basketball team’s locker room was open, she found. Slipping inside, she took her car flashlight from her jacket and flipped it on. One by one, she scanned the names taped to the face of each locker until she came to the one she wanted.

Michael O’Shea .

Fortunately, Mike kept an ordinary padlock on his locker. Nancy could crack simple combination locks with no problem, but key types were easier. She drew her lockpick from her pocket and quietly went to work.

She had it open in less than a minute. Mike had the usual assortment of junk in his locker: towels, uniform, sneakers, hand weights, knee brace, ointments, and a sports magazine. He also had an envelope that contained two thousand dollars in twenty-dollar bills, and a list of Emerson’s opponents. Beside each one was a negative number: -10, -14, -6, -17. . . .

What did the numbers mean? Nancy hadn’t the slightest idea. She was positive about one thing, though: Mike was up to no good!

Suddenly she froze. Footsteps were coming down the hall!

She had to hide. Glancing around quickly, she noticed several old, unused locker sections against one wall. Should she slip into one of those? No, she decided. It would be a tight squeeze and they might not open from the inside. Where then? The showers?

She spotted a better place—the sauna! Darting across the room, she pulled open its wooden door and zipped inside. Through the narrow window in the door, she saw the lights in the locker room come on.

Nancy shrank back against an interior wall, her heart racing. Too late, she realized that she had forgotten to shut Mike’s locker! Oh, well. There was nothing she could do about that now. If she was lucky the security guard—or whoever—would think that Mike himself had forgotten to close it. Swallowing hard, she held still and listened.

Outside, there was silence. Then some bumping and scraping began. It sounded as if equipment was being moved around, but she couldn’t be sure. Who was it? A janitor mopping floors? Nancy remained motionless as several loud clunks sounded right outside the sauna door.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, there was silence again. The window in the sauna’s door went dark, indicating that the locker room lights had been turned off.

Relieved, Nancy waited for a minute, then went to the sauna door to leave. It wouldn’t budge. She pushed harder, but still the door wouldn’t open. It was blocked from the outside!

Not only that, Nancy realized—the sauna was beginning to get warm! Whoever it was had cranked up the thermostat. She was trapped!

Chapter Eleven

Slowly the temperature climbed. How hot could one of these saunas get? Nancy wondered. 110°? 120°? Hotter?

It didn’t matter, really. Whoever had blocked her in had probably cranked it up as high as it would go. The point was, how long could she continue to function under such high temperatures? Twenty minutes? Half an hour?