Carolyn Keene - This Side of Evil

Nancy stared at her friend in mock anger. “You know, it’s a good thing I don’t have to depend on you to solve this case, Fayne.”

“Well, you can’t blame a girl for falling in love, can you?” George said dreamily.

“So you don’t believe what I’ve told you?” Dr. Dandridge growled. He had agreed to meet Nancy and Ned in his office the next morning even though it was Saturday. “You still insist that I’ve got something to do with this blackmail business?”

Nancy smiled pleasantly. “Right now there are just too many loose ends to permit me to draw any conclusions, Dr. Dandridge. However, there is a way you could help us tie some of them up.”

The doctor frowned. “Just what did you have in mind, Ms. Drew?”

“Your bank account should be a complete record of your dealings with the blackmailer. We’d like to see it.”

Dr. Dandridge looked shocked. “My bank account? You want my personal records?”

“Actually, it would be easier if you just called an officer at your bank,” Nancy told him. “I could review the account there and save you the inconvenience of digging out your statements.”

Dr. Dandridge sighed and reached for the phone. “If this is the only way to convince you,” he said, “then it’s worth it. Fortunately, my bank is open on Saturday mornings.”

On the way to the bank, Nancy stopped to call Ms. Amberton at her home to bring her up to date on what they’d done the day before, and on their talk with the doctor. But she wasn’t home.

“It was okay,” Nancy told Ned. “I just left a message telling her that we found out who was driving the yellow Mercedes. That should interest her.”

“You understand, of course, that this is extremely irregular,” the bank manager said. He was dressed in a conservative black suit and vest, and his hair was thinning on top. “It is highly unusual to give out information on other people’s accounts.”

“But you had Dr. Dandridge’s phone call,” Nancy assured him smoothly. “And I’ve also brought you a signed request.”

“Yes, of course,” the manager said with a sigh. He cleared his throat. “Well, then, here is a summary of the activity in the account.” He handed a computer printout to Nancy. “I must say, I have been puzzled by the recent large cash withdrawals from this account.”

Nancy scanned the printout. She spotted the withdrawals right away. They exactly corresponded to what Dr. Dandridge had told them.

“This is the only account the doctor has with this bank?” she asked, just to be sure.

“The only one,” the manager said. “With the exception of his loan account, of course.” He shifted uneasily. “A rather large loan, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, then, I think we’ve found what we came for,” she told the manager and stood up.

“So, we can scratch Dandridge as a suspect,” Ned remarked as they threaded their way through the crowd of afternoon shoppers on Saint-Antoine Street.

“I suppose so,” Nancy said, stopping to eye a fashionable flowered sundress in a shop window. “His bank account confirms what he’s already told us. Too bad—he was such a promising suspect. I mean, just look at the clues!”

“Yeah,” Ned said, linking his arm in hers as they started to walk again. “First the liquid nitrogen, then the impression of the prescription written on notepaper from his desk.”

“And don’t forget that he knew we’d be in the plaza at five,” Nancy added. “Everything definitely points to Dandridge. It’s almost as if somebody wanted us to suspect him. But here we are, up against a stone wall.” She shook her head gloomily. “And we thought this was going to be such an easy case.”

A clock in a nearby church struck the half hour.

“Hey, it’s ten-thirty,” Ned said. “We’d better hurry if we want to see George run in the stadium.” He tugged at Nancy’s arm. “I want to stop by the apartment and get my camera. We have to get pictures of this!”

Nancy and Ned got out of the taxi at the edge of Olympic Park. Before them loomed a huge oval stadium. It was made of concrete and steel and supported by V-shaped concrete ribs.

“It’s huge!” Nancy exclaimed, staring up at the gigantic building. Standing beside one of the massive supporting ribs, she felt tiny.

“Over here,” Ned said, pointing to a sign that said Press Entrance. He slid his camera case higher on his shoulder. “The press box must be this way.”

They presented their passes to the guard at the gate, who looked at them curiously.

“Where’d you get these passes?” he demanded.

“From Lake Sinclair,” Nancy told him.

“Oh, that’s fine, then,” he said, his face relaxing. “We don’t usually let people into the building except on guided tours.” He shrugged. “Someone else with a pass came through here a few minutes ago. She a friend of yours?”

“That must be George,” Ned said. “Come on, Nancy! I want to see the inside of this thing.”

The stadium seemed even larger inside than it had from the outside—maybe because it was absolutely empty. The press box was a long glass booth along one side of the open-roofed structure. From there they had a bird’s-eye view of the track, far below. The far side of the track was over a hundred yards away.

Nancy sat down at the table along the window, holding an imaginary microphone in her hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, “we’re here in world-famous Olympic Stadium to watch the running debut of Ms. Georgia Fayne, international champion jogger. Beneath us is the track, where Ms. Fayne will perform. Above us we can see the sky. All around us are empty seats—rows and rows of empty seats.”

Ned laughed. “Almost sixty thousand empty seats,” he said. He opened his camera bag and carefully removed a long lens, fitting it onto his camera. “This is a great place to try out my new telephoto lens,” he said enthusiastically.

“Oh, look, Ned!” Nancy exclaimed, pushing up the sleeves of her red blouse. “There’s George! Doesn’t she look tiny down there?”

George came into view far below, moving swiftly from left to right around the track. She was wearing an Olympic running shirt and red, white, and blue shorts. Nancy waved as her friend passed in front of the press box, but George didn’t look up.

As Nancy turned back to Ned, who was still busy with his camera, she noticed a second person coming down the ramp at the far end of the stadium. Apparently, George was going to have company on the track because the person was dressed in a white jogging jacket with the hood pulled up.

Ned stopped fiddling with his lens and raised the camera to his eye. “Hey, neat,” he said, looking around the track. “Just like a telescope.”

“What do you see?” Nancy wanted to know.

“Well, George certainly has great legs,” Ned replied, a hint of teasing laughter in his voice.

Nancy grinned and gave him a playful shove. “Hey, what about my legs?” she asked, pouting.

Ned turned, pointing his camera at Nancy’s legs. He whistled. “Wow!” he said admiringly. “ Some legs.”

“What I really want to know about is that other runner,” Nancy said, directing his attention back to the track.

Ned swiveled his camera. “I can’t tell about her legs. Or maybe his,” he reported with a grin. The other runner was almost opposite them then, on the far side of the track. George was catching up fast. “That’s strange,” Ned remarked.

“What? What’s strange?” Nancy asked, watching George, who was now almost on the heels of the other runner.

Ned shrugged. “That runner’s wearing white gloves and carrying a can of hair spray or something.”