Carolyn Keene - Two Points to Murder

“Looks like I’ll have to cover for him,” Ned muttered. “Where is he?”

Inside the gym, the dean’s voice rose excitedly. “ And next, the finest point guard in the history of our school . . . co-captain of the team, number seven . . . Ned . . . Nickerson! ”

The roar that burst from the crowd was thunderous. Ned strode confidently into the gym, stopped, and raised his arms in a victory sign. The roar grew even louder. Nancy was proud that Ned was so popular, but at the same time she felt terrible. She knew how torn up he must feel. This was definitely a moment he would want to share with Mike!

Slipping back into the gym, Nancy watched Ned step forward to the microphone and smoothly apologize for Mike’s absence. Wisely,’he didn’t dwell on it, but moved straight into his thank-you’s to the team’s supporters.

As he talked, Nancy felt another touch on her arm. It was Pat Burnett. Like his team, the coach was wearing khakis, a tie, and an Emerson blazer. He also wore an identical look of worry—worry that she knew was growing from more than his concern over the upcoming game.

“Well, this is it. Our last game. I don’t suppose you’ve had any luck since we last talked?”

Nancy had phoned the coach several times to update him on the case. There had been little to report, though—until now. She wasn’t looking forward to telling him about his star forward.

She swallowed. “Yes, I have. Coach Burnett, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but . . . but . . .”

Go on, tell him! she said to herself. Somehow she couldn’t do it. The problem was, she wasn’t totally sure that she was right. True, the evidence against Mike was overwhelming, yet for all that she still had no idea why he was doing such horrible things. Why was he pulling the pranks? Why was he assaulting innocent students? And why did he have two thousand dollars in his locker?

The money! All at once, Nancy remembered Tom Stafford’s charge. Was it true that illegal salaries were being paid? If so, it might shed some light on Mike’s motives, she knew. With all the tact at her command, Nancy quietly put the issue to the coach. His jaw tightened.

“Absolutely not, young lady,” he pronounced when she had finished. “No Emerson player has ever . . . or will ever . . . be paid a penny to play for this school. Not while I’m around!”

“Is it possible that someone else could have made such payments?” Nancy asked. “Someone on the admissions staff, maybe?”

“No way! If they were doing anything like that, believe me, I’d know!”

She believed him. What else could she do? The force and conviction of his words were enough to persuade a stone!

Suddenly Nancy felt as if twenty tons of lead had been lifted from her shoulders. The coach’s words meant that Ned was honest—every bit as honest as she had always believed! What a relief! At the same time, however, the denial left open the question of the money in Mike’s locker. Where had it come from, if not from the school?

There was no time left for speculation, she knew. Her time was up. The coach was waiting impatiently for her report.

“Well, Nancy? Can you tell me the name of the practical joker?” he asked.

She nodded. “Unfortunately I can. Mr. Burnett, I’m afraid he’s—”

Nancy never finished her sentence. At that moment, a security guard rushed through the door and ran up to the coach.

“Mr. Burnett? You’d better come with me, sir,” the guard panted. “One of your players is hurt. He says his name is Mike O’Shea, and it looks like he fell off the roof!”

Chapter Fourteen

In the middle of the gym, Ned was getting ready to introduce the coach. Pat Burnett was already gone, however, and Nancy was only two steps behind him. She hated to leave Ned in such an awkward spot, but what could she do? Finding out about Mike came first!

Mike was lying in the snow near the base of one of the building’s side walls. Glancing up, Nancy estimated the drop at sixty feet or so. The snow below her feet was only a foot deep, so Mike’s fall had not been cushioned. Her heart began to race.

How badly was he hurt? It was hard to tell. One thing was clear. He was in agony. His face was twisted with pain, and his breath came in shallow gulps.

“Hang on, Mike. The guards are bringing the ambulance around from the parking lot,” the coach told him.

Nancy remembered seeing the vehicle in front of the building before the rally. State law required one to be present at every large public and sporting event.

Mike cried out. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. “Coach . . . get . . . get . . .”

“Like I said, the ambulance is on the way,” the coach repeated.

“No! Get . . . Nancy Drew!”

Startled, Nancy stepped forward and sank down next to him. “I’m here, Mike.”

“N-nancy . . . I’ve got to . . . to tell you what happened!” he gasped.

“I’m listening. But, Mike, please take it easy! You’re hurt!”

“I know. Got to . . . to get to a hospital,” he echoed weakly. “Listen . . . the one you’re looking for is . . . is . . .”

Nancy bit her lip. Talking was obviously draining his strength. He should stop, yet she wanted him to continue! He was about to say something important, she felt. Something vital to the case!

“Get away from him!” barked a commanding voice suddenly. “Make room! Make room! We’ve got to get him on this stretcher!”

The ambulance had arrived, and with it was Ed Riggs, the team doctor Nancy had met the first day on campus.

“Hurry! Get that thing over here!” Dr. Riggs shouted to the ambulance crew. “And you . . . Miss Drew! What do you think you’re doing? Get away from him this instant!”

“Sorry.” Embarrassed, Nancy rose and backed away. Quickly the medics lifted Mike and wheeled him to the ambulance. A moment later it was speeding to the hospital, its siren wailing.

The small crowd of people nearby began to disperse. Pat Burnett and Dr. Riggs hurried to the doctor’s car for the ride to the hospital. Nancy planned to follow them in her Mustang, but first she had to check something out.

Backing away from the building, she glanced up at the roofline. There was a tubular metal railing up there, she noticed. It was about three or four feet high. Had Mike fallen over it accidentally? No way. The logical explanation was a lot simpler—and a lot more disturbing.

Mike had been pushed!

At the hospital, Nancy found Bess, George, and most of the team members already there, as well as several fans and faculty members.

The outpouring of concern for Mike made her ashamed. Ned wasn’t the only one who believed hi him, she could see. Others admired and respected him, too. How could she have been so wrong?

She had been wrong, of course. Mike hadn’t pushed himself off that roof. Someone else had. The practical joker? Maybe, maybe not. Whoever it was, he had tried to kill Mike in order to keep him from spilling what he knew. It was obvious now that Mike was involved in something far bigger than she had imagined.

But what was it? A conspiracy against the team? Against the whole college? There was no way to know, and that infuriated her. Some detective she was turning out to be!

A short while later, Jan Teller arrived. When Ned told her what had happened to Mike, the petite brunette sank onto a couch and burst into tears. A hush fell over the room.

Silently, Ned sat down next to her and put his arms around her.

For what seemed like hours, they waited for some word from the doctors. At one point, Ray Ungar came in and sat quietly with his former teammates, confirming Nancy’s belief that his loyalty to the team was genuine. It was no compensation.