Nancy and George each took a snow cone back into the stands and watched the stadium crew sweep the garbage off the field. When they returned to the concession stand almost thirty minutes later, Bess was just finishing up. She slipped out and said excitedly, "You won't believe what I've learned. Rebecca is a thief!"
Chapter Eleven
"How do you know?" George asked.
Half whispering as they walked down the empty corridors toward the exit, Bess replied, "I managed to get my supervisor, Carolyn Flynne, talking during one of our slow times. She said she remembered Rebecca from when she worked here last season."
"What else?" Nancy asked. "Why did she quit?"
"She didn't quit," Bess said, her eyes round. "Well, technically she did, but only after Carolyn caught her stealing from the cash register and threatened to call the police."
George let out a low whistle.
"Carolyn also said that Rebecca was rude and tried to shortchange customers," Bess went on.
"Are you sure it's the same Rebecca?" George asked in disbelief. "Sean said his Rebecca was friendly and good with Caitlin."
"No, it was definitely Rebecca Carter," Bess insisted. "I even had Carolyn describe her. Besides, remember the photo of her in the uniform?"
Nancy suddenly stopped walking. "Rod Sanders recommended Rebecca to Sean. I wonder if he knew about her past."
"Carolyn said only management knew," Bess answered. "And she made me promise not to spread it around since Rebecca was never charged with a crime."
"Could Carolyn have been wrong about her stealing?" Nancy asked.
"She said she actually saw her take a handful of bills out of the register and stuff them into her pocket," Bess said. "It happened right after the stand closed, and Carolyn hadn't counted the money yet."
"Do you think Rod recommended Rebecca to Sean so she could help with the kidnapping?" George asked, turning to Nancy.
"Possibly," Nancy said, continuing on toward the door that led to the locker room exit, which was close to where she'd parked her car. "Or maybe Rod set Rebecca up knowing she lived alone and no one would miss her if she disappeared along with Caitlin."
"So Rebecca could be a victim," Bess said.
"Yes," Nancy answered. "But whether she is or isn't, she's an important key to this puzzle."
The door to the Falcon locker room had been propped open, and Nancy could see that the interior was dark. She was just moving past it when she heard a series of heavy metallic clicks that sounded like a locker door opening. She stopped and listened.
"What is it?" Bess asked.
"Fm not sure," Nancy whispered back, then raised a finger to her lips as she took a single step inside the dark locker room. At the far end she saw the bobbing beam of a flashlight. Then, very faintly, she heard more of the metallic clicks and scratches. Nancy straightened and tensed. Someone was definitely in there.
Nancy motioned for Bess and George to wait outside, then cautiously moved into the darkness, feeling her way past lockers and benches, inching her way toward the bobbing light. With searching fingers, she found the cold metal of a bank of lockers and slid silently behind them until she was just around the corner from the beam of the flashlight.
Her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and as she peered around the corner, she saw a dark figure not more than ten feet from her. The person was putting something in one of the lockers. It was Stormy Tarver.
Nancy stood stone still as Stormy eased the locker shut with barely a sound, slipped the padlock back in place, and latched it. Then Stormy started for the exit.
Nancy waited. After a long moment she stole toward the spot where Stormy had been, slipped off the light jacket she had been wearing, and dropped it silently to the floor to mark the locker that Stormy had opened.
Suddenly Nancy heard Bess shriek. She dashed toward the sound, but stopped well inside the door.
"What are you doing here?" Stormy snapped.
"We could ask you the same thing," George returned.
Nancy flattened herself against the wall just around the corner from her friends and listened. She didn't want Stormy to know she had been in the locker room.
"It's none of your business," Stormy snapped.
When Nancy peeked around the corner of the doorway a moment later, Stormy was walking away while George and Bess watched.
"What happened?" Nancy asked.
"She ran right into me," Bess said angrily.
"Bess was listening in the doorway," George whispered with a hint of a smile.
"Good work." Nancy laughed. "I would love to have seen Stormy's face."
"But what was she doing in the locker room?" George asked.
"She put something in one of the lockers," Nancy said. "The player must have given her his combination, because there was a padlock on it. Or maybe she's good at picking locks."
"Whose locker?" Bess asked anxiously.
"I don't know," Nancy said. "But I can find out." She led the way back into the darkness. Finding a switch by the door, she flipped on the light. Now she could see the two long rows of lockers and the wooden benches in between.
She walked down the row to where her jacket lay on the floor and looked up at locker number 39. It was locked with a combination padlock, and just above the lock was a big dent. Nancy touched the dent with her finger.
"Rod bashed his locker when he found out Sean was coming to play with the Falcons," George said.
"I remember," Nancy replied, then examined the padlock, spinning the dial lightly in her fingers. She narrowed her eyes and carefully began to turn the dial first to the right, then to the left, then to the right again. Each time she waited until she could feel the tumblers drop into place. After the third turn, Nancy stopped. She took a deep breath as she looked from George to Bess. George gave her a thumbs-up sign, and Nancy pulled on the padlock.
"It worked," Bess said as the metal loop slipped from the lock.
Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay," she said. "Let's see what's inside."
The contents of the locker were neatly organized. A pair of baseball shoes was in the bottom, a Falcons jersey and hat hung on a hook on one side of the locker, and a baseball mitt was on the other. Nancy had to stretch to look on the shelf above the hooks. There she saw a sheet of white
paper. She pulled it out, holding only one edge, and saw that it was a piece of stationery from the River's Edge Lodge. Written on it in flowing script were the words, We need to meet. Name the time, same place.
"Stormy Tarver is meeting with a Falcon player?" Bess asked. "But who and why?"
"I can answer the first part of that," George said. She reached into the locker and grabbed one sleeve of the baseball jersey, stretching it out so the number and name on the back were clearly visible. The number was 46 and the name above it, in bright blue letters, was Sanders.
"Stormy Tarver is meeting with Rod Sanders," Nancy said as George released the jersey. "I only wish we knew when and where."
"We could tail one of them," Bess offered.
"That could tie us up for days," Nancy said. "Besides, if they spotted us, it might put Caitlin into more danger."
"So what are we going to do?" George asked, leaning against the lockers.
"We'll let someone else follow them," Nancy said. "Someone with lots of manpower."
"The FBI," Bess said, sitting down on the bench.
Nancy nodded. She put the paper back on the shelf and closed the locker, replacing the padlock just as Stormy Tarver had done.
"I'll call Chief McGinnis," Nancy said. "He'll get the word to Delgado, and the FBI can take it from there." Nancy picked up her jacket and
glanced around the locker room to make sure nothing was out of place. Then she followed Bess and George out the door and flicked off the light.
Nancy was awake early the next morning. Even though there wouldn't be another baseball game until the following evening, she had plenty to do. She'd spoken with Chief McGinnis the night b
efore, but she still needed to call Stormy Tarver and then meet with George, Bess, Luke, and Sean.
She was heading for the den to make her call when Carson Drew stopped her on his way to work. He was carrying his briefcase in one hand and a bag of clothes in the other.
"Going to the big game tomorrow?" he asked.
Nancy grimaced, then nodded. She didn't have time to tell him what a disaster the championship series had become.
"Would you mind dropping these off at Haven House for me?" he said, handing her the bag. "They're collecting clothes for the homeless this week."
"Sure," Nancy said. She walked her father to his car, kissed him goodbye, and put the bag of clothes on the backseat of her Mustang before hurrying back inside. In the quiet of the den she dialed the number for the River's Edge Lodge and asked for room 814.
The phone rang five times before Stormy answered with a gruff hello.
"Ms. Tarver, I'm Nancy Drew, a free-lance writer," Nancy began brightly.
"Good morning," Stormy said, her voice suddenly friendly. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm doing a series of articles on powerful women in sports," Nancy said. "Of course, it wouldn't be complete without an interview with you."
"Who are you writing for?" Stormy asked.
Nancy paused. "American Sports wants it," she fibbed, "but I may just shop it around."
"Fine," Stormy said. "I always have time for the press, but it'll have to be this evening, say around five, here at the lodge? Why don't you meet me in the restaurant?"
"Great," Nancy said. As she hung up, she thanked her lucky stars that Stormy Tarver was such a publicity hound, and that she had not shown her face to Stormy in the locker room the night before.
Nancy left the den, had breakfast and a shower, said goodbye to Hannah, and headed for her car. She had just enough time to meet her friends at Andy's Arcade for the early lunch they had arranged the day before. Nancy had a lot of information she wanted to go over with her friends, and she was hoping that the atmosphere at Andy's would cheer up Sean.
The arcade was a dozen blocks from the Roost, next to a grocery store that was already teeming with customers. Nancy had to park her Mustang three shops down from Andy's. She had just locked her car and stepped onto the sidewalk when she sensed someone right behind her. Instinctively she tried to move away, but felt a strong hand on her shoulder.
"Don't turn around," a man's voice ordered in a commanding whisper. "And keep walking."
Chapter Twelve
"You don't know who I am, do you?" the stranger asked as they continued down the sidewalk. There was a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
"No," she answered, feeling adrenaline flow through her.
"Delgado," he whispered. "We need to talk."
Nancy's fear drained away. She tried to turn around again, but again Delgado stopped her.
"After I leave, get back into your car and drive north on Tatum Avenue for two blocks, take a left, and turn into the first parking lot you come to. There will be a mover's van there. Park and get out."
The pressure on Nancy's shoulder vanished. She took two more steps and turned around in time to see Delgado, dressed in a light shirt and pants, slip into a blue car that pulled away from the curb. Then, throwing a quick glance toward Andy's Arcade, she went back to her car. Her friends would have to wait.
Nancy's excitement grew as she drove down Tatum Avenue. She couldn't wait for the chance to compare notes with the FBI. Only one thing bothered her—she had the uncomfortable feeling that Delgado had enjoyed toying with her at the mall.
The lot Delgado had directed her to was a little-used gravel area with a fringe of weeds along one edge. Nancy pulled her Mustang up beside the moving van and was climbing out when she heard Delgado's voice for the second time.
She turned to see him standing at the back of the truck, motioning for her to follow him. He disappeared around the corner. Nancy followed. He was holding open a door in the rear of the van. She stepped inside, expecting a dark and shabby interior. Instead, she found herself in an ultramodern FBI mobile command center.
Victor motioned Nancy to a folding chair by a narrow table set up in the center of the van. Except for the spot where Nancy sat, the table was covered with papers, laid out in an orderly fashion. On the wall was a large bulletin board with the days of the week listed across the top and notes tacked under each day. Behind Nancy was a map cluttered with colored pins. Toward the front of the truck another agent with a radio
headset was talking into a microphone and taking notes. This, Nancy guessed, was the dispatcher Russ Nunn had been talking to when he radioed from Sean's house.
Delgado pulled up a chair across the table from Nancy. "The note you found in the locker room definitely sounds interesting," he said seriously. "Was there anything more than the meeting request?"
"No," Nancy said. "As I told Chief McGinnis on the phone, the words were written in blue ink on a piece of stationery from the River's Edge Lodge."
"We've been watching both Stormy and Rod Sanders ever since you called," Victor said, staring into Nancy's eyes. "So far neither has made a move."
"What about the lock of hair that was delivered to Sean?" Nancy asked. "Did you get any information from that?"
Victor shook his head. "Nothing very useful."
"But something," Nancy persisted.
Victor shrugged and gave Nancy a sideways look that said she wasn't behaving properly. "We did match the hair to a sample from Caitlin's brush, and the handwriting on the note matches the one Sean got from the bird on the mound."
"What about the box?" Nancy tried again. "Were there prints?" She had been hoping she and Delgado could help each other. Now the agent seemed to be holding out on her.
"The only prints were from the delivery boy," Victor said, his voice rising impatiently. "He said the box was left outside the office with some money and instructions. No one at the courier service saw who put it there."
Nancy sighed. This was harder than interviewing a suspect.
"What about Rebecca?" she asked, trying to keep her voice friendly. "Have you found her family?"
"Yes, her parents are in New Hampshire," Victor said brusquely. "They didn't know anything, but they're coming here. And now, if you don't mind, I'll ask the questions."
Nancy frowned and leaned back in her chair.
Victor seemed to relax. "I want to know what else you've stumbled across."
"I found out that Rebecca was forced to leave a job at the Roost after she was caught stealing from the cash register at a concession stand," Nancy said stiffly. "It's possible she's not a victim after all."
There was a flash of interest in Victor's eyes. "We learned the same thing," he said, sounding almost friendly. "We also found out that was the second time she had to leave a job for stealing."
"When was the first time?" Nancy asked excitedly, forgetting for a moment that she wasn't supposed to ask questions.
Victor's frown returned. "Six months ago she worked as a clerk in a clothing store," he growled. "The manager caught her taking money from the till. Same as the Roost, basically."
Nancy longed for a few more details, but Victor wasn't offering them. 'Then she really is a thief," she said calmly.
'That doesn't mean she's a kidnapper, though," Victor said, lecturing her.
"I know," Nancy said simply. "She could have been set up, but I began to doubt that theory after I saw her apartment."
Victor eyed her suspiciously.
"I know you were there, too," Nancy said. She'd finally had enough of Victor's overbearing manner.
Victor leaned back so that the front legs of his chair came off the floor, and rolled his eyes at the ceiling.
"I went there yesterday," Nancy said coldly. "I picked up a writing sample you can use—if you need it." Her statement seemed to take Victor by surprise. The front legs of his chair hit the floor with a thud.
"We have our own," Victor said wryly. Nancy saw the twink
le in his eye and his tone seemed to soften slightly. "We lifted prints and a handwriting sample from her apartment that confirmed the shopping list you found was written by her. Unfortunately, that doesn't help us much."
"But there was another interesting thing I found in her apartment," Nancy said. "There were no Yummy Bunnies there, so I doubt she bought them for herself."
Victor studied his folded hands, a smile creeping over his lips. "I guess McGinnis was right about you," he said, shaking his head slowly. "And Nunn, too. He said you were a pretty sharp cookie after you figured out his radio system."
"You didn't look for Yummy Bunnies, did you?" Nancy guessed, hoping her observation would not make him angry.
Victor shook his head, and then grabbed a yellow notepad and pencil. "You beat me on the Yummy Bunnies," he said. "So what do we have?"
Nancy felt like shouting for joy. The ice between them had been broken, and Victor was taking her seriously.
"Rebecca could have made the shopping list while getting ready to keep Caitlin," Nancy said. "And what about the clay? There was gray clay at both Sean's house and Rebecca's apartment."
"The two samples matched," Victor said, raising his pencil. "Unfortunately, although clay is unusual in this area, it's not rare enough to match to any one location."
"Is there anything new on the Zabowskis?" Nancy asked, leaning forward.
"We're still following them, but they're moving down on our suspect list," Delgado said. "They haven't done anything suspicious, and we know neither of them left the package with the lock of Caitlin's hair, because we were following them at the time."
"I guess you heard about the call Sean got last night?" Nancy pressed.
Victor scowled. "We put a recorder on the phone in the locker room early this morning," he said.
Nancy raised her eyebrows but decided not to comment. "All right," she said after a pause, "that leaves Stormy, Rod, and Rebecca as suspects, but unless one of them makes a move, we're no closer to solving this than we were two days ago."
"I agree," Victor said, turning grim.