Nancy’s eyes widened in surprise. Her brother! “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I had no idea. You have different last names.”
“Jimmy was my stepbrother. We didn’t tell anyone,” Kitty said. “I didn’t kill him,” she went on, “but I still feel as if it’s my fault. I’m the one who got Jimmy into car theft. We both wanted to make it big on the drag-racing circuit—only it takes a lot of money.” She sighed. “We got impatient.”
“And stealing cars was a way to make big money?” Nancy guessed.
Kitty nodded. “Jimmy made enough to buy the car of his dreams. Then he got careless in Chicago and almost got caught, so we split. River Heights seemed like a perfect place to work. There’s a track, and we knew from people in the auto theft business that there was already an established chop shop, too. In fact, they recruited us as soon as we hit town.”
“Who’s ‘they’?” Nancy asked eagerly.
Kitty raised her head, her dark eyes glistening. “I wish I knew. Everything was done over the phone. After we agreed to work for them, a guy would call me and request a certain make and year of car. My job was to locate it.”
“Ahhh,” Nancy said. “That’s why we saw you at the Scene.”
“Right. And uh”—lowering her eyes, Kitty hesitated—“I was working that night at the restaurant, too.”
“Bess’s car?”
“Yeah. They were hot for a Camaro. It was the first one I’d seen all week. I mean, I had no idea it belonged to your friend,” Kitty quickly added.
“So you’d scout out the car, then call Jimmy.”
Kitty nodded. “Jimmy would steal it, then drive it to an empty warehouse and leave it. He never saw anyone.”
This was a very slick, professional operation, Nancy realized.
“I want you to tell all of this to the police,” Kitty went on. Seeing Nancy’s look of surprise, she said bitterly, “Somebody’s framing me for Jimmy’s murder. Somebody from the chop shop must have killed him because he bungled the last two jobs and was identified. And now they want me out of the way, too.”
“You may be right,” Nancy said. She tried to think of some way to figure out who was behind the theft ring. “Where exactly did Jimmy leave the cars?” she asked.
Kitty shook her head helplessly. “I was never there, and I never asked. The less I knew, the better.”
Frustrated, Nancy sat down on the blankets. “There has to be some way we can track down these guys.”
Kitty thought a minute. “Wait—we did briefly meet one man. He came to the track when Jimmy and I first came to town. He said he knew we’d been involved in a theft ring in Chicago and were we interested in working in River Heights. Of course we played dumb in case he was a cop. But we checked around and found out he was on the level.”
“What did he look like?” Nancy asked.
Kitty opened her mouth to answer, then froze as a scraping noise sounded from the outside of the trailer. She jumped to her feet, panicked.
With a finger to his lips, Tiny started toward the tarp. At the same time, it was thrown back and Detectives Hawkins and Powderly stared into the trailer.
Kitty grabbed Nancy’s arm. “That’s him!” she cried in a low voice. “That’s the guy!”
Chapter
Twelve
RUN, KITTY!” Tiny boomed. He launched himself at the two detectives. Arms outstretched, he catapulted through the tarp, knocking Powderly and Hawkins flat onto the outside ramp.
Nancy sprang to her feet, but Kitty already had a lead on her. The brunette ran to the end of the trailer and jumped to the ground. By the time Nancy reached the ramp, Kitty was nowhere in sight.
A moment later Nancy heard the roar of a motor and the squeal of wheels. Kitty had escaped.
With a sigh, Nancy turned back to Tiny and the two detectives, who were grappling on the ground outside the trailer. Even two against one, they barely managed to subdue the big man.
A shiver raced up Nancy’s spine as she watched the detectives.
Hawkins. Powderly. One of them was the man who’d contacted Kitty and Jimmy about joining the theft ring. Whichever officer it was, he wasn’t just being paid off to sabotage the police investigation—he was a key player in the auto theft ring.
“You guys are cops?” Tiny was saying as B. D. Hawkins flashed his badge. The big man seemed to be surprised.
“Yeah. And you’d better cooperate,” Powderly snapped, “because we’ve got plenty of questions for you.”
Hawkins noticed Nancy just then. “What are you doing here?”
Nancy wondered how much she should tell them. It would be better to report to Detective Quinones, but she didn’t have much choice. “Kitty wanted to talk to me,” she finally said. “She admitted that she worked with Jimmy Sandia, stealing cars, but she said she didn’t kill him.”
“Yeah, right,” Hawkins scoffed. “You knew we were looking for Kitty. Why didn’t you tell us where she was? I ought to arrest you for obstructing justice!”
“I didn’t know where she was until a few minutes ago,” Nancy said calmly. She filled in Hawkins and Powderly about Dirk’s accident, and about what the Walters brothers had told her.
“Kitty was in the trailer all day,” Tiny spoke up, “so she couldn’t have tampered with his car.”
“Maybe,” Stan Powderly said dubiously. “But even if Kitty isn’t guilty of murdering her partner, we still need to talk to her. Seems she’s the one person who can help us decide who is our culprit.”
Nancy nodded her head in agreement. “Maybe Tiny can tell us where she went.”
Tiny simply shrugged. “Beats me, but she probably got away in a 1988 Thunderbird.”
Nancy studied the big man closely. She was almost positive he was lying to the detectives—he was too protective of Kitty to give away the real description of her car. She didn’t want the crooked cop to know that, though, so she said nothing.
“Thanks,” Detective Powderly told Tiny. “We’ll radio that information out.” He left for his car.
Hawkins looked suspiciously at Tiny, then at Nancy. “You two better be telling us everything,” he growled. Then he stalked off, muttering, “Man, I’m glad my shift is over and I’m headed home.”
When the two detectives had driven off, Tiny shook his head. “I don’t believe it. One of the guys who Kitty and Jimmy were working for was actually a cop.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s okay for Kitty to run from the police,” Nancy said firmly. She wrote her number down on a piece of paper, then pulled out Detective Quinones’s card and copied his number down, too. “You tell her to call me, or Raul Quinones,” she instructed, handing Tiny the piece of paper. “He’s the detective I’m reporting to. If she turns herself in, he’ll make sure she’s all right.”
A few minutes later, as Nancy trudged toward the concession stand, she realized how exhausted and hungry she was. It was almost seven, and she hadn’t eaten since lunch. First she wanted to get to a phone and contact Detective Quinones. He needed to know about how Kitty had fingered one of his detectives.
When she reached the concession stand, she went to the phone booth and left a message for Quinones that she had called and would try again from the hospital. Then, after grabbing a hot dog, she drove to the River Heights Hospital.
A nurse directed Nancy down the hall, where Bess greeted her. Dirk was next to her, lying on a gurney next to a door marked X-Rays. Nancy was pleased to see that there was color in his face, though he was still wearing a neck brace.
“I guess you’re not hurt too badly, if they’re leaving you out in the hall,” she joked.
Smiling up at her, Dirk said, “The X-rays show my neck’s still there. I think they’re going to let me go home. There aren’t any empty rooms, so I’m stuck here until I get the final word.”
“Jake just got here, too,” Bess told Nancy. “He went to get some sodas. He said he’ll drive Dirk home when he’s released.”
“They ran a bunch of tests,??
? Dirk added. “So far everything looks okay.”
“Hey, Nancy.” Jake came down the hall holding three cans of soda. “Did you see Kitty?” he asked.
“Yes.” Nancy filled them all in on what Kitty had said. She decided not to mention that Kitty had indicated that Hawkins or Powderly was the bad cop. The fewer people who knew about that, the better.
When she’d finished talking, Dirk said, “That still doesn’t explain who sabotaged my car.”
“I think someone did it both as a warning and a distraction,” Nancy explained. “That way he or she could hunt for Kitty unnoticed while we were taking care of you.”
“That makes sense,” Bess agreed. Her next words were swallowed by a huge yawn.
“You girls must be bushed,” Jake said. “I’ll take over from here.”
Bess reached over and squeezed Dirk’s hand. “I’ll call your house in the morning,” she told him.
“ ’Bye,” Nancy said, waving as she and Bess left.
When they reached the lobby, Nancy headed straight for a phone booth. She dialed Detective Quinones’s home number, but there wasn’t an answer.
“That’s odd,” she said when she hung up. “He’s not there, and the dispatcher said he wasn’t at the station, either.”
“Well, he does have a life,” Bess commented. “Maybe he and his family went to the movies.”
Nancy reached into her purse for more change. “I’ll call the station again and leave another message.” This time she told the dispatcher to have Detective Quinones call her at home.
“Come on,” Bess said as Nancy hung up. “Let’s go home.”
They walked out into the chilly night. “You can drive,” Bess told Nancy, stepping around to the passenger side of the rental car. “After watching Dirk crash, I’m not too eager to get behind the wheel.”
“I don’t blame you,” said Nancy. Getting in on the driver’s side, she started the car and drove from the hospital parking lot.
“That’s weird,” Nancy murmured as they passed a dark blue sedan parked on the street. “That car looks like the one I saw Detective Hawkins driving the other day—you know, after we made our report at the police station. The car even has a dent in the right front fender.”
“Huh? Which car?” Bess asked, turning her head. “It’s probably just a coincidence.”
Just then Nancy saw the car move like a dark shadow from its parking space. She slowed in time to see it flick its lights on. When she turned right, the car followed, but at a safe distance.
Instinct told Nancy it was no coincidence. B. D. Hawkins was tailing them. “We’re being followed,” she told Bess.
Bess swung around in her seat. “You mean Detective Hawkins? Why would he follow us?”
Nancy told Bess about Kitty’s reaction to seeing Powderly and Hawkins at the trailer.
Bess’s mouth fell open. “You mean, he’s the bad cop?” she asked. “I should have known. He’s always been so unwilling to help us.”
“We don’t know for sure that Hawkins is the bad cop. But if he is, maybe he thinks we know where Kitty is,” Nancy said, thinking out loud. “Or maybe he’s afraid we might know too much.”
“W-what should we do?” Bess asked, her voice trembling.
Nancy knit her brow in concentration. “We could just drive home and lay low,” she said. “On the other hand, maybe we can outfox Hawkins and find out for sure if he is the crooked cop.”
She turned to grin at Bess. “I think I’ve got an idea that might just work. We’ll stop for burgers, and after that we’re going to lose him. I’m going to pick up my car at the garage. The owner said it’s ready to go. Then I’ll follow him.”
“What are you talking about?” Bess asked, as if Nancy had lost her mind.
Nancy laughed. “Trust me.”
A few minutes later Nancy pulled into the lot of a fast-food restaurant, and the girls ordered from the drive-through window. While they waited, Nancy checked around for Hawkins. There he was. He’d pulled into a vacant spot.
When the food came, Nancy drove toward the garage where she’d had the Mustang repaired. When she was a few blocks away, she suddenly took a sharp right, sped through a narrow alley, and came out on a busy street.
“Whoa!” called Bess, grabbing onto her seat. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“We lost him for a second, but I want him to find us again,” Nancy said, glancing in her rearview mirror. “The garage is the next right. I’m going to pull up and jump out. Then you drive back onto Main Street, where we lost him. Let’s hope Hawkins spots the convertible again and follows you.”
Bess gave Nancy another questioning look. “What about you?”
“I’m going to follow him in my car.”
“This sounds like something they do in gangster movies,” Bess said. “Are you sure it’s going to work?”
“No,” Nancy said with a laugh, “but we can give it a try.”
“I’m game.” Bess got ready to scoot into the driver’s seat. “Just be careful!”
Nancy turned right into the garage, braked, and jumped out. Bess pulled the door shut. Speeding up, she turned left at the end of the lot.
Jogging over to the Mustang, Nancy unlocked it and climbed in. It started with a wonderful roar. She flicked on the lights and started after Bess. When she turned onto Main Street a minute later, she spotted Bess’s rental car a block ahead of hers—and B. D. Hawkins’s car was two cars behind it!
Perfect, she thought. The plan is working.
Nancy followed at a distance. When Bess got to her house, Hawkins parked about a block away. Nancy quickly pulled up next to the curb several houses down.
Hawkins sat watching the Marvins’ house for an hour. Then, when all the lights were out, he started his car again. Nancy checked her watch, yawning. It was late, but when she began to tail Hawkins, she forgot how tired she was.
She followed the dark blue sedan to the main highway. When Hawkins got off at the industrial section of town, Nancy had a feeling she knew where he was going. Her heartbeat quickened and her palms began to sweat as he turned down the same dead end street where Jimmy Sandia had driven the stolen Camaro.
It was too good to be true. He was leading her right to the chop shop.
Chapter
Thirteen
FLICKING OFF HER LIGHTS, Nancy just turned into the street and stopped. Hawkins’s car was parked in front of R. H. Shipping—the same building where the Mustang had crashed after the run-in with the car carrier.
The area was dark and deserted, as Nancy would expect late on a Saturday night. She could see that Hawkins wasn’t in his car. He must have gone into the warehouse already. That confirmed her suspicions—only someone working with the auto theft ring would have a key to get in. He certainly wasn’t on official police business—Nancy had heard him say his shift was over when he left the track.
Scanning the front of the warehouse, she saw that there were no windows and only one entrance except for a garage door, which was closed.
Nancy knew she should call Detective Quinones right away and let him handle things from now on. First, though, she just wanted to check inside Hawkins’s car. There was always a chance that he had been careless and left some clue.
Moving as quietly as possible, she crept up to the detective’s car. When she peeked in, she could see Hawkins’s leather jacket hanging over the back of the seat.
She pressed the door handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. Why would he be so careless? she wondered. Unless it was on purpose. Maybe he knew she’d been tailing him, and this was a trap.
There was only one way to find out. Carefully, Nancy squeezed through the open door and sat in the driver’s seat. She decided to start with the leather jacket. Searching the pockets, she found a wad of lint and some gum wrappers.
“What’s this?” Nancy murmured, noticing a white strip of paper mixed in with the wrappers. It had been torn in half, but she clearly recognized it—it was
a strip of evidence tape!
Nancy pulled her flashlight from her purse and shined it on the torn tape. Hawkins was printed on it, along with a date, which had been two days earlier, she realized. The night of the stakeout at the Scene.
This had to be the tape used to tag the bag with the slim jim in it! So Hawkins was the person who opened the evidence bag, wiped the prints off the slim jim, then rebagged it using new tape to seal the top. He’d probably been in a hurry and stuck the scrap from the old evidence tape in his jacket pocket.
Nancy shuddered. B. D. Hawkins was definitely the bad cop—and quite possibly Jimmy Sandia’s murderer!
Trying to ignore the prickly feeling at the back of her neck, Nancy slipped the tape into her purse. Then she stuffed the wrappers back in Hawkins’s jacket and rearranged it on the seat. After creeping out of the car, she ran back to the Mustang and started it. She had to get out of there—fast. A deserted street in the middle of the night was the last place she wanted to meet B. D. Hawkins.
On the drive home Nancy kept checking her rearview mirror. No one was tailing her. Only when she was safely inside her house did she breathe a sigh of relief. As she leaned against the front door, her gaze fell on a note from Hannah that was sitting on the front table. It read, “Call Detective Quinones at home.”
Nancy took the steps up to her room two at a time and dialed his number on her phone. He answered on the first ring.
“Where have you been?” he asked after Nancy identified herself. “I’ve been calling every half-hour since I got your message. Your housekeeper was tired of being waked up.”
“I’ve been tailing Detective Hawkins,” Nancy explained. She went on to tell him about Kitty’s reaction to seeing Powderly and Hawkins that afternoon, and about following Hawkins to the chop shop.
After a long pause Detective Quinones asked, “You’re sure it was the chop shop?”
“Not positive,” Nancy admitted, “but I know it was Hawkins’s car. It had his jacket in it, and when I searched his pockets I found—”