“As soon as we finish eating, we need to head back to the center to talk to Billie,” Nancy said as she picked up her burger. “She’s got some explaining to do!”
• • •
An hour later George and Nancy were standing in the doorway to the rec room. Kids were playing cards and video games. Billie was talking on the pay phone, a serious expression on her face. Her cheeks paled when she saw the two girls, and she hung up quickly.
“I wonder who she was talking to,” George said in a low voice.
“Kip, I bet,” Nancy whispered back, then strode over to the phone. Before Billie could get past her, Nancy grabbed her arm.
“Hey, Billie, George and I just had a nice meal at Ernie’s,” she said in a casual tone.
Billie grunted and looked away from her.
“Yeah. And we met a friend of yours named Lil,” George added.
Billie looked sideways at the two of them. “And I bet you asked Lil if I worked Monday night.”
Nancy raised one brow. “How’d you guess?”
Sighing, Billie pulled her arm from Nancy’s grasp. “That was Kip I was talking to. He was really mad at me. He said it would only hurt him if I didn’t tell you the truth.”
“And what is the truth?” Nancy asked.
Billie motioned for Nancy and George to follow her into the hallway. Compared to the rec room, it was fairly quiet. “The truth is Kip had nothing to do with Paul’s murder, only he has no alibi.” Billie swung around to face Nancy. “And without an alibi, he’s dead meat.”
“Hmmm.” Crossing her arms, Nancy stared at Billie. The girl met her gaze without flinching. She is telling the truth, Nancy decided, or at least she thinks she is.
“How about if I meet with Kip and let him tell me the whole story?” Nancy asked. “Then I can go to the police. Maybe they’ll believe me.”
“You’d have to meet him alone,” Billie said.
“No way, Nancy,” George said quickly. “That’s too dangerous.”
“Not if it will clear Kip,” Nancy told her friend. “If he is innocent, the police need to be searching for the real killer.”
“I’ll call and arrange it,” Billie said. “But it will have to be on our terms.”
“I understand.”
“Nancy,” George said, pulling her friend aside when Billie went back into the rec room. “You can’t do this alone.”
“I don’t have any choice,” Nancy replied. “If you were Kip, would you trust anyone?”
“No, I guess not. Still—”
“It’s done.” Billie marched back into the hallway a few minutes later. “Ten o’clock tonight. Drive to the warehouse where Paul was killed. Park in front, then walk to the tracks. If you’re alone and we don’t smell any cops, we’ll find you.”
Nancy nodded. Billie eyed her warily for a second.
“I hope we can trust you, Nancy,” she said in a low voice, then strode to the front door, flung it open, and left.
“Whew,” George gasped. “You’re at least going to let me wait in the car, right?”
Nancy shook her head. “I can’t, George. If Kip senses that I haven’t followed their directions, he may never come out of hiding. And then this case could really stall, especially since it doesn’t look like the police are any closer to finding Rachel.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right,” George said, but she was still frowning.
“Look, nothing’s going to happen,” Nancy assured her friend. “But if I don’t call you by eleven o’clock tonight, you have my permission to contact B.D. and tell him everything.”
“Hey, guys, what’s up?” a voice asked behind them.
Nancy and George spun around to see Bess and Kyle entering the teen center. Bess’s eyes were red and puffy. Kyle had a sheepish expression on his face.
“We thought we might find you here,” Bess said. Reaching out, George gave Bess a hug. “Are you all right?”
Bess looked over at Kyle, then back at her cousin. “Yeah. Kyle and I talked about his leaving and, well, I’m pretty upset, but I think we’ve worked it out. So where have you guys been?”
Nancy smiled. “That’s a long story. Are you here for your self-defense class?”
Kyle nodded. “We thought we’d see if you two wanted some dinner first.”
“We just ate,” George said. “But we’ll keep you company.”
Nancy winked at George. “We know the perfect place—Ernie’s Grill. And, Kyle, they have your favorite dish just the way you like it—red-hot chili!”
• • •
At ten o’clock sharp, Nancy pulled the Mustang up to the warehouse and parked. She turned off the car lights but hesitated before getting out.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, she thought. She was alone at a deserted warehouse where someone had been killed. What if Kip was guilty? What if he figured Nancy knew too much and needed to be eliminated?
Nancy shook her head, trying to drive away her thoughts. Kip wouldn’t be stupid enough to do anything to her, too. That would be too risky.
Besides, this meeting was important. When she’d called B.D. after dinner, he told her they’d found Paul’s prints on the envelope, as well as some other prints they couldn’t identify, so they had no idea where the money had come from. Also, one of the officers had checked Mrs. Thackett’s alibi for Monday night. The ticket taker and two other patrons remembered seeing her arrive at the theater just before eight o’clock.
Taking a deep breath, Nancy opened the car door and swung her legs out. So if Mrs. Thackett had an alibi, that meant Nancy had to figure out if Kip was innocent or just a clever con artist.
Nancy walked slowly down the long drive. Except for the crunching of gravel under her feet, the night was silent.
Where was Kip hiding? she wondered. She remembered B.D. telling her that the gang sometimes met in the old railroad cars.
When she reached the tracks, Nancy stopped and looked around. The moon peeped from behind billowing clouds. She shivered as the wind raced down the tracks. The old railroad cars loomed dark and empty to the right of her. Still, Nancy felt as if eyes were watching her from every shadow.
One cautious step at a time, Nancy made her way down the tracks toward the cars. A noise made her freeze midstep. It was only a soft thud, but Nancy could tell it came from the boxcar nearest her.
“Billie? Are you there?” Nancy called. When there was no answer, she huddled into her down jacket, trying to stop her shoulders from shaking as she walked toward the boxcar.
Nancy peered around the side of the car, but it was so dark she couldn’t see anything. She opened her shoulder bag and pulled out her flashlight. But before she could flick it on, a hand clamped down over her mouth and another one grabbed her wrist.
The flashlight clattered to the tracks as Nancy’s arm was twisted behind her back and she was pulled roughly backward against someone’s chest.
Chapter
Ten
WITH HER FREE ARM, Nancy struck out behind her, but the grip on her wrist tightened painfully, and the fingers over her mouth squeezed her cheeks.
“If you know what’s good for you,” a voice behind her whispered, “you’ll come quietly. All right?”
Nancy nodded and dropped her arm. Without letting go of her, the person pushed her forward. She was guided past the boxcar and up to the ladder of an old caboose.
“Hey! Joey! I need some help here,” the voice called, and Nancy knew who her captor was—Billie!
A tall, gangly kid stepped onto the outside platform of the caboose. He grabbed Nancy by the arm and hauled her up the rungs of the ladder.
“Sorry about the rough treatment,” Billie said as she swung up next to Nancy. “But we had to make sure you came by yourself. Kip’s inside.” Billie motioned toward the door of the caboose.
Arms folded, Joey stood to one side. Nancy poked her head into the caboose. Faint streaks of moonlight filtered through the conductor’s lookout, and she saw half a dozen f
aces staring at her.
A lighter flicked on, and a tall guy with hooded gray eyes stepped from the shadows. Thrusting the flame in Nancy’s face, he studied her carefully.
“So you’re the P.I.,” he commented.
Nancy shielded her eyes from the dancing light. “Yes. Nancy Drew. And you’re—”
“Kip DiFranco.” He flicked the lighter off and held out his hand.
“And this is my gang.” Kip waved Nancy farther inside. From what she could make out in the moonlight, everybody was wearing a black leather jacket with the letter N studded onto the front.
“So, you’re working with the cops,” Kip said. “I’ve read about you in the newspaper. You’ve solved some pretty wild crimes.”
“Some.” Nancy stood very straight, hoping her voice sounded strong.
Everyone glared suspiciously at her except for Kip, who eyed her coolly, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.
“So, Ms. Private Investigator, how can we help each other?” he asked.
“I want to catch the person who murdered Paul Remer.”
Kip nodded. “Me, too. Not that I’m all choked up because he’s dead,” he added, “I just don’t like being accused of something I didn’t do.”
“And what proof is there that you’re innocent?”
“I don’t have any. That’s my problem. I crashed early last night. And I was alone in my apartment. And since I supposedly have a motive for the killing, the cops are going to pin this on me no matter what.”
“What do you mean, a motive?” Nancy asked.
Kip’s eyes hardened. “Search her,” he told Billie, without answering Nancy’s question.
Billie ran expert hands down Nancy’s sides and back. “She’s clean.”
“Good.” Kip nodded. “If we’d found a wire on you, you would’ve been in trouble. But since you’re clean, I’ll tell you the truth. I would have loved to see Paul Remer run out of town. He almost landed me in jail on a burglary charge.”
Nancy frowned.
As if in answer to her unasked question, he said, “Yeah. I pulled the job, and because of Remer, the cops caught me. I had an alibi all set up. Friends of mine swore to the police that I was playing pool all night at Ernie’s. Only Paul decided to rat on me. He told the cops I wasn’t playing pool and that he saw me outside the drugstore minutes before it was robbed.”
“Was Paul telling the truth?”
“Uh-huh. Luckily, I got off because the clerk at the store couldn’t identify me in the lineup and my friends stuck to their story.” He laughed. “Plus, all we got was some change and aspirin. Big heist, huh. Last I heard, the store dropped the charges.”
“What about the fact that several store owners saw you arguing with Paul on Monday night not far from the murder scene?”
Kip raised one brow. “Okay, so Remer and I argued. I told him if I saw his ugly face around Nighthawk territory again, I’d kick him out myself.” He leaned close to Nancy. “But I didn’t say I’d kill him.”
“That’s right,” Joey confirmed. “I was there.”
“What did Paul do when you threatened him?” Nancy asked.
“He told me he had more important things to do than argue with a punk like me.”
Nancy frowned. “Do you have any idea what he meant?”
Joey, Billie, and Kip shook their heads.
“Any idea who killed him?”
Kip’s face brightened. He beckoned to someone hunkered down in the back of the caboose. “Skins, get up here and tell the P.I. what you saw.”
A little guy about fourteen pushed his way past the other gang members. His leather jacket hung loose on his skinny frame, his head was shaved bald, and his eyes darted nervously from Kip to Nancy.
“Well, I—I—” he stuttered. Skins flashed Nancy a shy grin, swallowed, then tried again.
“Monday night I—I slept here in the caboose,” he said, staring at his feet. “Whenever my dad and I have a big fight, I come here. I sleep on the seat there, and it ain’t so bad.”
Nancy looked where he was pointing. Under a window that faced the warehouse, there was a long wooden bench. Stepping closer, Nancy peered out the glass. In the moonlight she could see the loading docks, the overgrown field, and a short stretch of the tracks.
“So you were here when Paul was murdered?” she asked, excitement creeping into her voice.
He nodded. “But I didn’t see what happened. I woke up when car lights flashed in the window. It took me a second to remember where I was. When I finally sat up and looked out the window, I saw a car in the field behind the warehouse.”
Skins glanced hesitantly up at Kip. The leader gave him the thumbs-up sign. After taking a deep breath, the boy finished his story.
“The car lights shone right on the body. I heard the door slam, then the car squealed out of here like it was going to a fire.”
Nancy let out her breath. “Did you see the driver?”
“Naw.” Skins looked apologetic, but then he gave her a huge grin. “But I know what kind of car it was! A silver Mercedes.”
“Thanks, Skins,” she said sincerely. Then she reached into her back pocket and pulled out Rachel’s picture. “Now, I’d like you all to look at this picture of Paul’s girlfriend, Rachel. Maybe someone has seen her in the neighborhood. She witnessed the murder, so if we find her, we can clear up this mystery.”
Kip flicked his lighter on so that the gang members could get a good look at the photograph. Nancy watched closely as they passed the picture around and looked at it.
“Nope. We haven’t seen her around.” Kip was the last person to hand the picture back to Nancy. He flicked off the lighter.
“If you do see her, please call the River Heights Police Department and ask for B. D. Hawkins,” Nancy said to the silent, staring faces. “You don’t have to give your name.”
Several heads nodded.
“And thank you,” she added.
“Thank you.” Kip made a half bow. “For believing us.”
But when Nancy finally reached the safety of the Mustang, she wasn’t sure who or what to believe. She just knew she desperately wanted to go home. After calling George to say she was safe, she planned on going straight to bed.
• • •
“So let me see if I’ve got this right,” Bess said to Nancy the next morning. She was riding in the front seat of the Mustang, and George was in the back. The three girls were on their way to see B.D. at the police station.
“Mrs. Thackett could be the murderer, only she has an alibi,” Bess repeated what Nancy had told them earlier. “Or Kip could be the murderer, although he told you he wasn’t. Only he has no alibi.”
Nancy laughed. “Right. Simple, huh.”
Bess sighed. “Yeah. About as simple as my relationship with Kyle.”
Nancy looked at her friend. Bess’s mouth was turned down at the corners. “Sorry, Bess. I’ve been so wrapped up in this case, I’d forgotten about you and Kyle.”
“Me, too,” George said apologetically. “So what did you two talk about yesterday?”
“I suggested that when he leaves, we date other people.” Bess’s voice was resigned. “I think it’s the only way. We’re going to still try to see each other—you know, on holidays and stuff.”
George patted her cousin’s arm. “Hey, that sounds like a good solution. How did Kyle take the part about dating other people?”
Bess shrugged. “He’s not wild about it.”
Nancy pulled up in front of the police station, hoping that the case would distract her friend from her troubles for a while. “Let’s see if B.D.’s found out anything new.”
They found B.D. in his office. There was just one extra chair in his office, and he carried in two others so that all three girls could sit down. Then he sat down behind his desk. The first thing he did when he heard about Nancy’s late-night escapade was to groan. “I can’t believe you let that punk DiFranco get away, Nancy,” he said angrily. “You know we’ve
been looking for him. Maybe I ought to have you arrested for aiding a criminal.”
“If I’d let you in on it, Kip would have known,” Nancy shot right back. “He’s no fool. Then he wouldn’t have told me anything.”
B.D. muttered something, then swung around in his swivel chair. He stood up and strode to a coffee maker. “You girls want any coffee?” he asked gruffly. Nancy could tell by his unshaven face and the dark circles under his eyes that he probably hadn’t made it home the night before.
When they shook their heads, he poured himself a cup, then turned to Nancy. “So you really think this Skins kid was telling the truth about the Mercedes?”
Nancy shrugged. “I think so. Now we just have to figure out who can afford a Mercedes.”
“Probably Mrs. Thackett,” Bess stated.
Nancy, George, and B.D. turned to her.
“Don’t you remember Billie saying Mrs. Thackett told Rachel she wouldn’t get any of ‘her money’?” Bess reminded them. “And remember Rachel’s leather suitcase? And her clothes?”
“Bess is right,” Nancy said. “Only when Mrs. Thackett came to the center, she was driving a blue sedan.”
“Maybe she has a second car that she’s hiding because she thinks it could have been spotted at the scene of the crime,” George suggested.
B.D. stopped in the middle of sipping his coffee and glanced suspiciously from Bess to George to Nancy. “Why do I get the feeling you three are cooking up something?”
“Because we are!” Bess exclaimed.
“Look, B.D., I’ve got an idea,” Nancy said excitedly. “You don’t have enough evidence to go snooping through Mrs. Thackett’s garage, but if we just happened to—”
Holding up one hand to silence her, B.D. strode back to his desk. “I don’t want to hear about your plan. In fact, I’m going to pretend you girls weren’t even here. But—” Pausing, he looked at them with lowered brows, then suddenly winked and smiled. “If you should happen to spot a silver Mercedes in her garage, I want to be the first to know.”
Fifteen minutes later Nancy pulled the Mustang up the circular drive of the Thackett home. It was located in one of River Height’s most expensive neighborhoods. The two-car garage was off to the right of the house. Both doors were shut, and there were no window panels in them.