Carolyn Keene - Easy Marks

“Why didn’t you go straight to the headmaster and tell him about it?” Nancy asked.

Kim shook her head sharply. “I couldn’t bring myself to turn Victor in. I’m really hung up on the guy.”

“Victor’s not the only one who could be responsible,” Nancy told Kim. “If I’m going to catch the culprit, I need to know how the money transfer works. I know you have a bank card for that account, but how do you know when to use it, and what happens to the cash?”

“I get an E-mail message,” Kim replied. “In code. If it says M five, I know I should withdraw five hundred dollars on Monday. T ten means one thousand dollars on Tuesday, and so on. It’s usually after or before school, but today the message said to go at lunchtime. I’m missing math right now.”

“How do you deliver the money?” Nancy asked.

“I put the bills in a brown envelope and leave it in one of the faculty mailboxes before school.”

“What?” Nancy exclaimed, straightening up. “Which one?”

Kim shrugged. “It’s not labeled. It’s on the bottom row, on the side near the door.”

Nancy frowned and stared into space. Then she said, “I’m going to need your help to put the person behind this out of business. How about it?”

Kim nodded hesitantly.

“Great,” Nancy continued. “Now, here’s what I have in mind. I want you to deliver the money you picked up today.”

“You do?” said Kim incredulously.

“Yes, I do,” Nancy replied. “And then I want you to stay home from school for the next two days. Think you can play sick for that long?”

“No problem,” Kim said. “No problem at all.”

At eight forty-five the next morning Nancy was standing near the coffee urn in the faculty lounge, paging through a news magazine. She glanced up just as Kim came in, stuck a brown envelope into a mailbox on the bottom row, and scurried out.

More and more teachers were drifting in, checking their mailboxes, and getting coffee. Each time one of them blocked Nancy’s view of the mailboxes, her anxiety level soared. She longed to move closer, but she didn’t dare. The person behind the racket knew Nancy’s real reason for being at Brewster—the threatening message in her E-mail proved that. If she was seen too near the mailboxes, the culprit would sense a trap and leave the envelope with the money where it was.

Nancy straightened up and felt her pulse beat faster. Dana has just walked into the room and paused near the mailboxes. Was this the pickup?

But then she turned and headed straight for the coffee urn. The envelope was still in place. “Hi, Nancy,” Dana greeted her. “How are you getting along with the computer system?”

“So far, so good,” Nancy replied. “You’re here early. Is there a problem?”

Dana smiled. “No, no. Not this time. I have an appointment near here in a little while, and I thought I’d stop by to make sure the computer beast is behaving itself.”

Nancy smiled back distractedly. She was very aware that Dana was blocking her view of the mailboxes. She made a half-step to the right, but Dana moved in the same direction and began asking her about tutoring. She wanted to know if Nancy had thought of using the computer system.

If she could have, Nancy would have pushed Dana aside. She had to see that mailbox.

Slowly Nancy angled to the left. Again, Dana adjusted her position so that she was blocking Nancy’s view. This is unbelievable! Nancy said to herself. Was Dana moving on purpose? It didn’t seem so because she kept talking excitedly about the applications of the computer in tutoring.

Nancy was about to explain that she wasn’t in charge of the program, when Friedbinder entered and paused to survey the room. When he saw Dana and Nancy together, he scowled and turned his back on them. A moment later Phyllis came in. She, too, noticed Dana and Nancy. She gave Nancy a quick nod, then turned to Victor, who had appeared at the door to speak with her.

Dana, her back to the door, missed all this. As the nine o’clock bell rang, she said, “Oh dear, I’d better run. We’ll talk again about coming up with an interactive approach to tutoring. I really think it’s the way to go.”

Heading for the door, Nancy looked at the mailboxes and drew in a quick breath. The brown envelope was gone!

Chapter Eleven

Nancy continued in the direction of the door, fighting down an impulse to break into a run. How could she have let someone make off with the envelope, right under her nose!

Pausing outside the door, Nancy peered up and down the hall. To her left she saw a girl in jeans and a T-shirt, with books under her arm. To her right was Phyllis Hathaway, just going into the administration offices. She was too far away to see if she had anything in her hand.

The trap had failed, that was obvious. The question was, why? Was it an accident that Dana had blocked Nancy’s view at the crucial moment, or had she done it on purpose?

If it had been a coincidence, then it was just a piece of bad luck. If not, it meant that Dana and Phyllis were guilty and that they knew Nancy was trying to trap them. The only way they could have known that was if Kim had told them.

Nancy shook her head. Stop jumping to conclusions, Drew, she told herself. Walter Friedbinder and Victor had also been near the mailboxes. Either of them could have made off with the envelope, too. She would simply have to come up with a new plan for trapping the guilty party.

“Hi, there,” someone called. Nancy turned and saw Randi coming down the hall toward her.

“I looked for you yesterday,” Randi continued. “I still want to do that interview. Are you free at noon?”

Nancy decided it was time to be direct. “Randi, yesterday you called me Nancy Drew. How did you know my name?” She watched Randi’s face carefully. The threatening message had been sent from one of the terminals in the newspaper office after all. That fact alone put Randi in a very select group of potential suspects.

Randi rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on! It’s not such a big deal. I was just goofing on you yesterday. Can you blame me, after that art show story you gave me? Of course I know who you are. I’m a journalist, right? I read the River Heights papers every day. I’ve seen your name and picture.”

“Have you told this to anyone else?” asked Nancy.

“No,” replied Randi. “A good journalist doesn’t go around blabbing about her biggest story before she’s even written it. So tell me, what are you really doing here?”

“I can’t tell you. But I will when it’s over,” Nancy promised. “As long as you keep quiet about it now.”

“Deal,” Randi agreed.

Nancy groaned inwardly as she walked away. A reporter on the trail of a hot scoop was the last thing she needed. She just hoped Randi kept her word.

For the next couple of hours Nancy was too busy helping bewildered sophomores understand the mysteries of past participles to give any thought to her case. When she ushered her last student out the door, she returned to her desk to do some quiet thinking.

Could she eliminate Randi as a suspect? She was inclined to say yes. Yet one thing still bothered her. Randi had been the only one near the newspaper office when the threatening message was sent.

“Hey, I can practically see the wheels going around!” Victor said, interrupting her thoughts. He was standing in the doorway, grinning at her. “Do you know you have steam coming out of your ears?”

Nancy gave a laugh. “Hi, Victor,” she said, in a tone of resignation.

“Wow, what enthusiasm!” he replied, falling into the chair across from her. “You looked a lot more lively when I saw you down in the faculty lounge. Maybe you need to drink more coffee.”