Carolyn Keene - Two Points to Murder

She threw her arms around him and kissed him—sweetly at first, but then with growing urgency. It felt terrific to be with him again! Silently she vowed not to wait so long between visits the next time.

Suddenly a chorus of voices interrupted them.

“Hey, Nickers, save it for later!”

“Yeah, it’s party time!”

“Ned . . . can you hear us, Ned? Uh-oh, looks like we’ve lost him. Send for an ambulance!”

They fell apart. Around them stood a group of Ned’s teammates, all grinning mischievously. Nancy stood and tried—unsuccessfully—not to blush as Ned introduced them.

“Nancy, this is Andy Hall . . .”

She shook the hand of a black youth with a narrow, baby-smooth face. He was the off-guard, she knew, Ned’s opposite number on the Wildcats’ starting lineup.

“. . . and Craig Watson . . .”

Tall, blond, and amazingly cute, Craig was the power forward, or “enforcer,” who did the work that made the others look good.

“. . . and our center, Howie Little.”

Nancy’s eyes traveled up . . . and up . . . and up . . . to the face of the tallest boy she had ever met. Howie Little was a towering seven-feet-one. He had deep black skin and sparkling eyes, which were full of humor.

“Hello down there,” he said, laughing. His voice was a deep bass, like the lowest notes on a church organ. “It’s kind of hard to tell from this distance, Ned, but it looks to me like you’ve got yourself one pretty girlfriend there.”

Everyone laughed, Nancy hardest of all. She liked Howie’s sense of humor.

“Where’s Mike?” Ned asked, looking around for his friend.

Craig pointed. “Over there. He’s still upset about what happened during the game, I guess.”

All eyes turned to a couple across the room. Nancy saw Mike O’Shea talking with a short, snub-nosed brunette. His girlfriend, probably. She looked as if she was trying to calm him down. It wasn’t working, however. As they watched, Mike pulled away from her and stalked out of the room.

“Mike takes those practical jokes kind of hard,” Ned explained to Nancy in a low voice. “Tonight, for instance, after the mascot’s costume was slashed he could barely dribble the ball.”

“Maybe he’s high-strung,” Nancy said.

“Strung out is more like it,” Andy drawled sourly.

“What do you mean?”

Ned shot Andy a warning look. “All he means is that Mike’s been feeling run-down, lately. We’ve all been feeling run-down! It’s been a long, tough season.”

Murmurs of agreement followed his remark, but Nancy caught an undercurrent of tension in the air. Were they upset over Mike’s poor performance in that night’s game, or was there more to it than that? And why was Ned covering up for him? That was very unusual!

Nancy’s thoughts were interrupted by a new voice—one that was high, thin, and tinged with an unpleasant edge of sarcasm.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me , too?”

“Ray, what are you doing here?” Ned asked.

The newcomer was tall and skinny. He had pale blue eyes, a prominent hooked nose, and red hair that needed to be trimmed. He stared at Nancy.

“I thought you wanted nothing more to do with the Wildcats,” Ned added.

“I don’t. You can all rot, for all I care. I like a good party, though. So . . . are you going to introduce me, or not?”

“Nancy, this is Ray Ungar. Ray, my girlfriend, Nancy Drew.”

Ray’s eyes bored into hers. Nancy was used to being checked out, but his reckless expression made her very uneasy.

“So, you’re the famous snoop Ned’s always bragging about.”

“I’ve solved a few crimes,” Nancy said noncommittally.

“A few? Ned makes you sound like a regular Sherlock Holmes. Well, take a tip from me, Ms. Sherlock . . . watch where you poke your nose here at Emerson. It might get cut off.”

“Can it, Ray!” Ned said angrily, taking a step toward him. “I know you’re carrying a grudge, but take it out on someone else!”

Ray held up his palms. “Hey! I was just giving the lady some advice!”

“Well, save it. In fact, why don’t you move along and enjoy the party?”

“Sure, I know when I’m not wanted.” Throwing a hostile glance at Andy, Craig, and Howie, he sauntered away.

Nancy was relieved. “Whew! Talk about intense! What’s his problem, anyway? And what’s all this about a grudge?”

“Ray used to be on the team,” Ned explained. “He wasn’t a starter, but he wasn’t bad as a forward, either.”

“ Used to be?”

“Coach cut him this season because he’s got a low grade-point average. Now he’s bitter. He swears Coach cut him for personal reasons.”

“Sounds like he really hates the team.”

“That’s the understatement of the semester!” Ned agreed grimly. “He won’t even come to our games to cheer us on!”

The group gradually drifted apart. As it did, Nancy remembered what she had said to Ned earlier about having only one suspect. Well, scratch that, she thought. Now I have two!

The party wore on, growing louder and wilder by the minute. Nancy met many more of Ned’s friends, including Mike’s girlfriend, Jan Teller. Finally, around midnight, she went to the refreshment table to pour herself a soda. Bess was there, too, taking a break.

“Having fun?” Nancy asked.

“Believe it!” Bess smiled. “They really know how to party here.”

“Did I see you dancing with Craig Watson a little while ago?”

Bess’s eyes grew misty. “Yes. He’s a great guy. Soooo cute! And such a sharp dresser, too . . . did you notice?”

Nancy hadn’t. Glancing across the room, she saw Craig talking to Ned. In his loose-fitting gray wool shirt, pleated flannel trousers, and Gucci loafers, he indeed looked sharp. He could have posed for a layout in a fashion magazine.

“Matter of fact, a lot of these basketball guys have style,” Bess went on.

“Really? Who else?”

“Mike and Andy, see?”

The two players were talking together at the other end of the table. Both were dressed very well, Nancy realized. Andy wore an Italian-cut silk suit, and a gold watch flashed on Mike’s wrist.

She frowned. “That’s odd . . . didn’t I read in the game program that Craig, Andy, and Mike are scholarship students?”

“Did you? I don’t know.”

“Hmmm . . . I’ll have to check it out when we get back to our room.”

A second later, though, Nancy forgot all about that idea. The disk jockey put on a favorite song of Ned’s, and suddenly she wanted to dance. Setting down her drink, she crossed the room and pulled her boyfriend onto the dance floor.

They danced for what seemed like hours. Finally, flushed and happy, Nancy realized that she was worn out. She also needed the bathroom. Excusing herself, she went down the hall, only to find a short line in front of it.

Deciding that she couldn’t wait, she slipped up the stairs to the second floor. Doors lined both sides of the hall, but which one was the bathroom? She didn’t know.

Nancy chose a door at random. She knocked, and—receiving no answer—pushed it open.

“Oops!”

It was a fraternity brother’s room, empty at the moment, luckily. She was about to shut the door and go when, in the light from the hall, she noticed a framed picture above the desk. It was of Mike and Ned! This wasn’t Ned’s room, she knew. She had seen that before, so it must be Mike’s.

Curious, she moved toward the photo for a closer look. As she did, she accidentally kicked a cardboard carton. She looked down—and gasped. It was full of Styrofoam packing chips!

Rooting among them, Nancy also found scraps of cloth, thread, and the mangled half of a pillowcase—the same materials used to construct the effigy! She was stunned. There could only be one conclusion, she knew: Mike O’Shea—Emerson’s best player—was the practical joker!