“But now a bunch of different things have happened,” Bess pointed out. “Doesn’t that help us make a case against them? If we add up all these different incidents, isn’t that enough suspicious behavior to at least have the police question them about it?”
“It does make a difference,” I agreed. “And when the race is over, we should definitely consider doing something official about all these dirty tricks. But for now let’s put the Open Your Heart Fund first.”
“Done,” George and Bess pledged simultaneously.
We all clasped right hands and pumped them into the air. Our mission was clear.
I went back to fine-tuning my bike. Bess continued checking the backup cycle, and George finished collecting the lunch trash.
Charlie Adams rolled up with his road-service truck just as I was finishing my cycle check. He was always a welcome sight. He waved to us all as he drove off the road and over to our truck.
“Hey, Nancy. So, you’re having some trouble, huh?” he asked with a warm smile.
“I’m sure glad you can help us out, Charlie,” I said. “We really need to catch up with Ned as soon as possible. I don’t like having him so far ahead of us. You brought us a new distributor cap that’s guaranteed to help us win the Biking for Bucks, I bet.”
“Well, now, I don’t know about that,” he said. “But I brought several, just in case. We’ll find one that works—I can promise you that.”
Charlie and Bess went to the front of the truck. George and I walked my bike to the back and secured it on the rack. Then I walked around to rejoin Charlie and Bess—and to pick Charlie’s brain. George followed my lead.
Bess was trying to fit a cap on the distributor, but it didn’t seem to be the right size. Charlie held two more caps in his hand. When he saw me coming, he ducked his head under the hood as if to escape.
“So what’s the latest word on the race, Charlie?” I asked. “I’m sure you’ve heard about everything that’s been going on. Anything happening I should know about?”
He pulled his head out and looked at me, and then he quickly looked away. He rolled his eyes around and looked over at George, and then down at the ground. He seemed to be nervous and uncomfortable.
“Well, yes, there is something—but I really can’t say,” he answered. He kept looking at the ground.
Bess popped out from under the hood. “This one doesn’t fit,” she announced. “Let me have the others.”
Charlie handed her the other two caps. He gave me a weak smile, then turned away to watch Bess.
“Everyone’s talking about our team being Number One, I’ll bet,” George said.
“Mmmm-hmmm,” Charlie mumbled.
“Charlie,” I said in my softest, most unthreatening voice. “What is it that you can’t tell us?”
“I can’t do it this time, Nancy,” Charlie said. “This is really big—the guy that told me made me swear not to say anything.” His voice echoed slightly, because he wouldn’t take his head out from under the truck hood.
“But, Charlie, you know I won’t tell anyone,” I nudged. “There’s nothing more sacred than the bond of confidentiality between a detective and her informant. I wouldn’t dare let anyone know you’d entrusted me with confidential information. Besides I’ve never betrayed your trust before—and I’m certainly not going to start now.”
“What about them?” Charlie said. He was obviously referring to Bess and George, but acted as if they weren’t even there.
“They’re not only part of my cycling team,” I told him, “they’re also trusted members of my detecting team. They are just as obligated as I am to keep your confidence.”
“Well, okay,” he said in a low voice. “But this is big, Nancy, really big. The guy that told me is in the know and everything.”
I wanted to reach down into his throat with both hands and pull the words out. But I forced myself to stay calm. Sometimes getting Charlie to tell me something is like trying to get a cat out from under the bed for a trip to the vet.
“It’s okay,” I said in a low voice. “What happened?”
I held my breath so long waiting for Charlie’s answer, I could feel a warm flush in my cheeks.
“It’s the money,” Charlie finally said. “The Biking for Bucks pledges.” He shook his head, and his eyes widened into almost perfect circles.
“What about the money?” I prompted, although I had a feeling that I knew what he was going to say.
“It’s gone,” he said. “It’s all gone.”
Shifting My Gears
Gone!” Bess shouted, breaking the quiet tension of the previous few minutes. “What happened to it?”
“Someone stole it, that’s what,” Charlie said. He took a deep breath, and let it out with a sigh. Then his words began pouring out.
“When the money was put back into the vault,” he said, “the guards were required to recount it. When they opened the locked box, all they found was shredded newspaper. The cash was gone—it had just disappeared!”
“I remember the old-fashioned safe that the money was in,” I said. “Mr. Holman opened the safe to show us all the money.”
“That’s right,” Charlie said. “I was there. I wanted to see the beginning of the race. And I knew they were going to be showing the money.”
“We’re talking about a lot of money,” George said. “Thousands—tens of thousands.”
“That was their first mistake,” he asserted. “You show all that money to people, and someone’s bound to get greedy.”
“As a matter of fact, there was a guy with a mountain bike—,” I began.
“Are you talking about the one in the red shorts?” Bess interrupted.
“Right,” I said. “Did you see him, Charlie? Do you know who he is?”
“I don’t remember seeing him,” Charlie said. “But he wouldn’t have been in this race on a mountain bike, would he?”
“He wasn’t one of the starters,” George said, “but he could be on one of the teams. We just don’t know yet.”
“When Mr. Holman left the stage after he’d opened the safe, the guy in the red shorts hopped right up there,” I told Charlie. “He was showing a lot of interest in the money, and was hanging around the open safe.”
“Where was the security guy when he got up there?” Charlie asked.
“Officer Rainey was distracted and didn’t see him at first. When he finally did spot the guy, Rainey chased him off the stage—but I couldn’t believe that guy was up there in the first place.”
“Did Mr. Holman see all this?” Charlie asked. “He wouldn’t have like it one bit.”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “He climbed back onstage shortly after that. That’s when he and Officer Rainey wheeled the safe offstage. The race started soon after.”
“That’s right,” Charlie said. “I saw them push that thing away. The safe looked pretty heavy.”
“And the thieves didn’t take the safe,” I said quietly, mostly to myself. I was trying to picture how it happened. “They just took the money.”
“But when did they take it?” Bess asked.
“That’s the big question,” Charlie said. “When they opened the safe to recount the money, there was nothing but newspaper.”
“All those stacks of cash,” Bess said, shaking her head in disbelief. She was still trying the new caps.
“So it happened between the time they wheeled off the safe, and when they reopened it to count.” I was still thinking aloud.
Charlie started stepping back and forth from one foot to the other, as if he were getting nervous about telling us what happened.
“The cops are keeping a really tight lid on this,” Charlie said, looking around as if there might be eavesdroppers around him. “Remember you promised not to tell anyone I told you about it.”
“I’m sure they’re trying to find the money before the race is over,” I pointed out. “They don’t want the riders and their supporters to be discouraged about the whole poi
nt of this event: the money they’re raising for charity.”
“The Open Your Heart Fund, yeah,” Charlie said, nodding. “It’d be a real shame if that money’s gone for good.”
“How did you find out about it?” I asked.
“I got called to tow in a car with an overheated water pump,” he answered. “And it happened to belong to someone working at the race. Hey, it was that Rainey guy—the one who’d been up on the stage with Mr. Holman. No wonder he was frantic.”
“Does Officer Rainey work for the bank?” I asked. “Or is he someone hired by the race organizers—a private security service?”
“I don’t know,” Charlie answered. “I’ve seen him around, though.”
“I got it!” Bess yelled triumphantly. “This cap works.” She raced around and jumped into the truck. I breathed a big sigh when I heard the engine start up.
“I’ve got to get back to town,” Charlie said. “Good luck, you guys. You’re my favorite team!” He started his truck and waved. “Don’t forget. You heard nothing from me about the missing money!” he shouted out the window as he pulled away.
“Let’s go,” George said, jumping into the backseat.
“I can’t,” I told them. “We have to change our strategy. Right now.”
Bess and George got out of the truck and walked over to where I stood. As I worked out the plan, I started to talk.
“Look, it was sometime during the last three hours that the money was discovered stolen. I figure the police put roadblocks up on every street leading away from River Heights, and they’ve got to have officers watching the river, too.”
“What are you saying?” Bess asked.
“If someone was trying to get out of town with that money, they’d have been caught by now, and the money would be back in the bank.”
“And Charlie would probably have heard about it,” George said.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Whoever stole it is smart enough to wait and not try to escape until they think they can get away with it.”
“Like at night?” Bess reasoned.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” I said.
“So the money is probably still around town somewhere,” George concluded.
“Which means I’ve got a chance to find it and get it back into the right hands before the race is over,” I said. “I have to try.”
“Wait a minute,” George said. “Are you saying you’re pulling out of the race?”
“I have to,” I said. “I’ll ride our spare bike back to town. And you two and Ned can keep going in the race. Bess has to use my bike because it has the GPS on it.”
“Nancy, we’ll help with the case too,” Bess said. That was just like my friend—always wanting to help.
“I’ve been saying all day that we have to stay focused on the race,” I said. “And we still do. There’s a rule about having no more than three riders on a team. But there’s no rule about who drives the truck or who does the cycling. We packed the backup bike in case of an emergency. This definitely qualifies.”
“So you want me to bike and drive the truck?” Bess asked, confused.
“You can all bike, and you can all take turns driving the truck. Bess, you take my leg this afternoon after Ned. Then if I’m not back to ride by morning, we’ll set up a new schedule for tomorrow so that the strongest one sprints the last leg.”
“But you’re the strongest,” Bess said. “We’ll need you.”
“I’ll try to be back before tomorrow morning,” I said. “Until then each of you has to do your best. The point is to make our pledges.”
“Are you sure you don’t want our help with the case?” George said. “I’ll give up the cycling if you think you could use a hand.”
This was a lot for George to offer. She’s been involved in sports practically since she started walking, and she’s one of the greatest competitors I’ve ever known. It was really cool for her to be willing to give that up to help me solve a case. But it wasn’t necessary. I smiled and shook my head.
“What about Ned?” Bess asked. “Don’t you think we’d better call him now and tell him we’ve changed the plan?”
“Or we could wait until the three o’clock changeover,” George offered.
“I’d better call him,” I decided. “I really don’t want to disrupt his focus now. But if he sees you riding up to take over at three o’clock instead of me, Bess, he’ll be even more disrupted. His first thought will be that something happened to me.”
“Good point,” George said. “Plus it’s one forty-five now. He’s figured out that we’re not nearby, so he’s probably already wondering if something’s happened. It’ll ease his mind just to hear your voice and know what’s going on.”
“You call him,” Bess said. “We’ll get the backup bike down—I’d better give it a quick once-over.”
“I’ll drive the truck the rest of this leg, so Bess can rest up,” George said. “Find out exactly where Ned is, so we can catch up with him.”
The racecourse took us on a very convoluted path. There were lots of twists and turns, hairpin curves, and blind hills. It was designed to be a difficult course to follow, and thus harder to race. By using straight country roads, George could meet up with Ned more quickly.
I took out my cell phone and pushed the speed-dial button that connected me to the cell phone behind Ned’s seat.
George had rigged up the racer cell phone with a remote button attached to the handlebar, and a one-unit earpiece/mouthpiece that fit into our helmets. When the phone rang, we wouldn’t have to reach behind the seat and pull it out; we’d just push the remote button, and the caller’s voice would fill our helmets. The mouthpiece was in our helmet straps, so we didn’t have to handle that either. She modeled the whole system after the one that racecar drivers use.
I was happy to hear Ned’s voice. At least one member of our team was on track. It took me only a few minutes to give him the full story and to tell him my plan.
“And you’ll be okay?” he asked. I could hear the concern in his voice, and it gave me a warm, comfortable feeling.
“I’ll be fine. And I’ll be even better when I know that money’s safe and secure back where it belongs.”
“So I’ll be changing over to Bess at three o’clock,” he said. “I’ll miss seeing your big blue eyes.”
Sometimes Ned knows just the right thing to say. “Yeah, well, Bess has big blue eyes too,” I reminded him.
“That’s right . . . she does.” He laughed. “Okay, then.”
“You sound pretty chipper. Where are you?” I pulled out a map of the route.
“I’m approaching the hills near Berryville.”
“Perfect! The truck will meet you on the other side. And Bess might be able to get you all to Swain Lake by five o’clock. Or at least close to it—maybe by the river.”
“Excellent. Take care of yourself. Get the case solved and the money back and meet us at Swain Lake for dinner.”
“Hmmmm . . . that’s a tall order! I’ll either be there or call in. You take care too.”
I hated to break the connection, but we both had major business to attend to. Images of gazing at moonlight on the water with Ned had to be filed away until later.
“The backup bike is totally clean,” Bess said, wheeling my cycle over. “It’s a hybrid, too, so it will not only take you over roads. You can also ride it on any weird detours you might have to follow. I’ve got your backpack and snacks in the panniers. I also threw in your jeans and sweater in case you don’t have time to go home and change.”
I thanked Bess and showed George where Ned was on the map, and where I told him he could hook up with the truck. Then I pulled on my helmet and gloves.
“Okay, team, go get ’em,” I said as I mounted my bike.
“You too,” Bess called back as she climbed in the truck’s passenger seat.
George and I each pulled out onto the road. George turned left, and I turned right.
Feathering
My Brakes
I rode the straight chute back to town, cutting across lawns and through alleys. It was only a few miles that way. I headed for downtown and the finish line, at the intersection of Highland Boulevard and Main Street.
I briefly considered stopping off at home to change clothes, because I didn’t want to attract too much attention to myself. I’ve lived in River Heights all my life, and a lot of people here know me for one reason or another. Even people who didn’t know me would notice someone riding around town in race clothes on race day. I didn’t want anyone to know that I had dropped out of the race—mainly because I didn’t want anyone to know why.
Just then I remembered that Bess had packed my sweater and jeans in the panniers—so I decided to ride over to Dad’s office downtown to freshen up instead of going all the way home.
I biked from the edge of town to Highland Boulevard. My dad’s law office is on Highland. Sometimes it’s open on Saturday, but that day it was closed because of the race, and because Dad was out of town.
I had my own key, of course. I unlocked the back door and took my bike inside. I spent a few minutes washing up. I left my racing clothes on, but pulled my jeans and sweater over them. I was a little warm, but a bit of sweat never hurt anyone.
Grabbing my backpack, I locked up Dad’s office, and left. I walked up Highland to the corner at Main Street. This was not only the start and finish line for Biking for Bucks, it was also where Mr. Holman had shown us the pledge money in the safe.
At first I hung out casually near the minipark, pretending to read the paper in the newsbox, but really watching the activity in front of the bank across the street. A few people walked around, but not many. Most of the shops were closed because of the race. With the streets blocked off, there wasn’t much point in stores being open.
I wanted to check out the area around the start and finish line, but that was impossible. Two uniformed police officers and at least three recognizable detectives in plain clothes were still looking for clues around the makeshift stage and bleachers that had been constructed for the weekend. Clearly, neither the money nor the thief had been found yet.