Carolyn Keene - Two Points to Murder

As she walked, her thoughts returned to Ned and their argument the night before. She couldn’t blame him for sticking by Mike, but she couldn’t understand it, either. How could he ignore something as obvious as the evidence in Mike’s room? To her, that was like ignoring a Detour sign on a highway. It was foolish and dangerous—and it didn’t make sense!

Her thoughts vanished, though, as she drew near the administration building. A demonstration was going on outside it—Tom Stafford and his crew again! What were they protesting this time? she wondered. The budget for the P.E. department again?

No. This time the campaign was a lot more serious, she saw. Their signs read “End Illegal Payments to Emerson Athletes!” and “No More Bucks for Burnett’s Bribes!”

As she walked up, Nancy heard a reporter from the school newspaper quizzing Tom. “. . . so can you prove these charges?”

The student council president avoided a direct answer. “We’re forcing the issue into the open. Pat Burnett must come clean!”

“You don’t have proof, then,” the reporter said knowingly.

“Look, it’s common knowledge that illegal salaries are paid to college athletes,” Tom said. “If you want hard evidence, then . . . then talk to her !” He pointed a finger at Nancy.

“Me!”

“She knows all about the under-the-table payoffs to the basketball team!”

“Is that true?” the reporter asked, turning to her.

“Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous,” Nancy said indignantly.

“Well, what about your boyfriend and his pals? They live like kings! Where do you suppose they get the money?” Tom accused.

“What money? They don’t seem rich to me.”

“Oh, come on. Look at their parties . . . their cars . . . their clothes!”

Nancy folded her arms. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? Then tell me this—how do you think a small school like Emerson manages to recruit top talent like Mike O’Shea? By magic?”

“I don’t know about Mike, but I know that Ned Nickerson plays basketball here because he admires and respects his coach.”

“Give me a break! Pat Burnett’s good, but he’s not the best.”

“So what?”

“Nickerson could play anywhere he wants to! But he doesn’t. He plays for Emerson . . . and that’s because he’s paid!”

“You’re crazy!”

Nancy was furious. How dare he suggest something like that. It was outrageous! He obviously didn’t know Ned Nickerson as well as he thought he did!

Or did he? Suddenly Nancy remembered the bracelet she was wearing. It was lovely . . . silver . . . and expensive. Not only that, it wasn’t the sort of gift that Ned usually gave her. Where had he gotten the money for the bracelet?

Something else fell into place, too: the flashy way in which Mike, Andy, and Craig had dressed at the party. Nancy knew they couldn’t afford the stuff they had worn—they were all scholarship students! She had checked!

She tried to keep her expression natural, but the reporter was eyeing her with interest. “You don’t know anything about illegal payments, then?” she asked.

“I . . . uh . . .”

“Sure she does. She doesn’t want to admit it, that’s all.”

“That’s not true! Believe me, if I had evidence I’d give it to you. But I don’t. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

She sure did! As soon as she’d been to the police station, she’d find Ned right away! She had to ask him about Tom Stafford’s accusation. Was it true?

And were illegal payments the reason he didn’t want her to investigate Mike?

The sports complex was even larger inside than Nancy had thought. It would be hard to find Ned here, she knew, but she had no choice. He wasn’t answering his phone, he wasn’t at the library, and all his classes were in the afternoon. This was the only place left.

One by one, she checked the weight room, the pool, the squash courts. He wasn’t in any of them. She checked the indoor track, but he wasn’t there, either. Finally, she began to ask people if they had seen him. No one had.

She was ready to give up. There was one more possibility, though, she remembered—the complex’s lowest level. She could try that.

Down the stairs she went to an empty white hallway. Machinery hummed behind several doors—the heating system, probably. There wasn’t much chance that she would find him here, she realized. She turned . . .

. . . and stopped. Faintly she heard the crack crack crack of pistol shots. There was a rifle range nearby! Curious, she walked until she found its door. A small, square window was set into it, and she peered through.

Just then the door opened. A hand grabbed her by the arm, pulled her inside, and spun her around. Before she could scream, the warm barrel of a pistol was pressed against her neck!

Chapter Seven

“Snooping again, Nancy?”

She knew that voice! Wrenching herself free, she whirled around in anger.

“Ray Ungar! Are you crazy? Don’t you know that’s dangerous?”

The former Wildcat looked hurt. “Hey, don’t get steamed. I was only kidding. Anyway, the gun’s not loaded . . . see?”

He held it out. The cartridge clip was missing, Nancy noticed. But that didn’t make her feel better. Pistols were not weapons with which to joke around.

“I ought to report you to whoever’s in charge of this range,” she growled, straightening her shirt.

Ray’s high, thin voice rose to a whine. “You won’t rat on me, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Ever since Burnett threw me off the basketball team, this is the only fun I have left.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to point your gun at another human being!”

“ Okay. Excuse me! I won’t do it again.”

Nancy relaxed a little, but only a little. She wasn’t comfortable around Ray. Who could be, when he acted so weird? In fact, if it weren’t for Mike, she would gladly have put him at the top of her list of suspects!

Casually she glanced at the paper target on top of one of the firing stations. Its bullseye was shot out.

“That yours?” she asked.

“Yeah. Pretty good, huh? I’ve been shooting most of my life.”

“Hmmm. . . . Listen, Ray, I’m looking for Ned. Have you seen him?”

Ray’s face darkened. “Mr. Wonderful? No, I haven’t seen him. Why don’t you check the trophy case upstairs?”

“What! Why?”

“ ’Cause Burnett’s got him on such a pedestal, he probably forgot and stuck him in there with all the other stuff.”

Nancy stared at him. Was that supposed to be funny? Whether it was or not, she was getting out of there. She had heard enough. With a mumbled “See you,” she turned and walked out.

She never did find Ned. When she got back to the dorm room, however, Bess informed her that Coach Burnett had called.

“Guess what? Tonight’s game against Haviland University is away, and the coach gave us permission to ride on the team bus! Isn’t that fantastic?”

Tremendous, Nancy thought sarcastically. It was going to be a barrel of laughs. How could she enjoy the ride with Tom Stafford’s accusation ringing in her ears? Was it true? She was going to have to confront Ned with it sometime—and that would hurt both of them.

“Fantastic,” Nancy replied dully.

At 4:30 that afternoon, Nancy, Bess, and George walked to the sports complex’s parking lot. Bess was bubbling with enthusiasm. She was wearing a snazzy shirtdress under her coat and had bought a ten-foot-long, purple-and-orange Emerson scarf just for the occasion.

Aside from her jacket, Nancy was wearing boots, jeans, and a black cashmere sweater. She wasn’t feeling very festive.