“What’s that supposed to mean?” George asked. “Is that a threat?”
“No, only a warning.” She flicked a piece of fluff from her hot pink track suit. “Then again, maybe you just need to get training wheels until you learn how to ride.”
Ned, who had gone to check the brakes on the other bikes, came and stood by Nancy just in time to hear Kendra’s final remark. “We need to get going,” he said briskly. “We don’t have much daylight left.”
“Good idea,” Erik agreed. “I’ve heard enough of your garbage, Kendra. Chill out.”
George looked up quickly, surprised at this defense from an unexpected source. But her relief was short-lived as Erik continued. “It’s hard enough riding with amateurs who don’t look after their equipment”—he looked pointedly at George—“without having to listen to junk like that from people who have no reason to be here except to advance their social life.”
“Just what do you mean by that crack?” Kendra asked.
“I mean,” Erik said, “that some people don’t know the difference between a bike trip and a dating service.”
Kendra’s pretty face twisted into an ugly mask as she faced Erik. “And some people,” she snapped, “don’t know the difference between a bike trip and an ego trip. Why don’t you explain to us, Erik, why it is that every time you sign up for one of these outings, somebody has an accident?”
Erik flushed, and Nancy could see the cords in his neck straining, as his anger surfaced. But before he could say a word, Kendra stormed on. “Why don’t you tell us the story about Jeffrey Long, Erik. Or maybe you’d like me to tell it. You almost killed him!”
Chapter
Six
ERIK TURNED his back on Kendra and moved toward his bike without answering. He kicked back the stand, swung his leg over the crossbar, and started out, pedaling fiercely. George, not about to give up on their competition, quickly followed, leaving the rest of the group standing by the side of the road.
Nancy grabbed Kendra’s arm. “Tell me about Jeffrey Long,” she demanded.
Angrily Kendra shook Nancy’s hand away. “You’re the detective. You figure it out!”
Less than an hour later, Nancy braked as the group approached the bike compound at Bannon House.
Built in the late nineteenth century, the prim two-story farmhouse had been given an additional wing later to accommodate a second generation of the Bannon family. When working the land no longer yielded sufficient income, one of the heirs had turned the place into a country inn. Its edge-of-town location and proximity to the main bike trails had made it a natural stopping place for cyclists.
As Nancy locked up her bike, she noticed that at least two dozen bicycles were already parked there. Obviously the Emerson group wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the fall break.
When Nancy signed in at the desk in the main hall, she was told by the desk clerk that she would be in room twenty-two with George, who had signed in fifteen minutes earlier.
Nancy’s anger at Kendra and Erik had not diminished during the five-mile ride. “I’ve got to find a phone,” she said to Ned, as he signed in. “The Emerson police should be able to tell me about Jeffrey Long, whoever he is. If Kendra thinks I’m not going to check this out, she’s in for a big surprise.”
He smiled at her and nodded. “CJ and I are bunking together. I’ll take your stuff up to your room while you make the call. And we’ll keep an eye on George.”
Nancy gave him a quick hug and a grateful look. “Thanks, Nickerson,” she said, and then grinned. “I may keep you around.” She turned to the woman at the desk. “Is there a pay phone around that I can use?” The woman pointed to the game room in the back.
The room was deserted except for two college-age guys shooting pool at the far end. Nancy assumed they were with one of the groups whose bicycles she had seen outside. The phones were against a wall, sandwiched between a dart board and a large relief map of the area. Nancy walked over, picked up the receiver, and dialed.
“Emersonville Police Headquarters, Sergeant O’Malley here,” said a male voice.
“This is Nancy Drew. Is Lieutenant Easterling available?” She drummed her fingers on the counter beneath the wall phone while the sergeant checked. Then Lieutenant Easterling’s familiar baritone voice came on the line.
“Nancy! How’s the ride?”
“More exciting than I expected,” she replied. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Will you see if you have anything about a bike accident in Emersonville involving a Jeffrey Long? I’m not sure when it happened.” Nancy mentally computed a time frame. If Kendra was a junior now and had been on campus then . . . “It would have been within the last two years,” she added.
“Okay. I’m going to put you on hold.”
Lieutenant Easterling came back on a few minutes later, but the news was disappointing. “Nothing in our records,” he said. “But you know, I vaguely remember that name. Long was an Emerson student, right? There was something in the newspaper. . . . Tell you what. Give me your number, and I’ll get back to you in a few minutes. I’m going to call campus security.”
“Great!” said Nancy. “While you’re at it, ask them if they have anything on Erik Olson or Kendra Matthews, will you?”
“Sure,” he replied. “What number are you at?”
Nancy squinted at the ancient phone and read off the number. “Will it take long?” she asked. “I’m at a pay phone in the game room.”
“Shouldn’t,” Lieutenant Easterling said. “The campus records are computerized.”
“Thanks!” She hung up and looked around the large room. Wood-paneled walls and a beamed ceiling fit in perfectly with the rustic setting. There was a Ping-Pong table parallel to the pool table, and couches with overstuffed cushions sat under a long window that offered views of the forest beyond. The other wall was dominated by a massive stone fireplace.
It was a perfect room for relaxing in after a day’s ride, and she could tell why the inn was popular with cyclists. Nancy took a magazine from a wall rack and curled up on the couch to wait. It seemed like hours before the phone rang. She jumped up and grabbed the receiver.
“Well, you picked a couple of winners,” Lieutenant Easterling said cheerfully. “Olson was involved in that accident with Jeffrey Long. Seems like they were both signed up for a race last year, but Long had an accident with his bike the week before and never got into the marathon.”
“What kind of an accident?” Nancy asked.
“A freak accident. His wheel came off when he was on a training run. He broke an arm and some ribs, and one of his lungs was punctured. The kid was hurt really badly. He’s recovered now. Olson had borrowed Long’s bike the day before the accident. They were fraternity brothers. Olson was suspected of tampering, but nothing was ever proved. In fact, no charges were filed, which explains why we don’t have a record of the incident.”
“What about Kendra Matthews?” she asked.
“Matthews is another story,” he said. “She’s on campus probation this semester. In May she tore up the room of some gal who went out with her ex-boyfriend. And according to Mike—he’s the campus cop I talked to—she’s a spoiled brat. Too much money and mouth, and too little maturity and brains. Her father’s some bigwig attorney.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant,” Nancy said. “Anything new on the burglaries?”
“Nope. Spaghetti Man isn’t talking, and we haven’t found any more of the stolen property. He’s local. Works as night manager at Ed’s Diner. Or did. Well, keep in touch.”
“What?” Nancy said, but the dial tone was already humming in her ear. She replaced the receiver and leaned up against the wall. Ed’s Diner! That had to be more than coincidence. And it might explain why Jennifer was so standoffish after she heard about Nancy’s involvement in the capture. If Jennifer and the burglar both worked at the diner, they must know each other. Nancy walked quickly out of the game room.
??
?Erik Olson,” she said crisply to the woman at the desk. “What room is he in?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Thanks.” Nancy turned and quickly walked up the stairs to the second floor.
She paused in front of the door to room twenty-nine and took a deep breath. Then she raised her hand and banged on the door with her fist.
The look of surprise on Erik’s face when he opened the door was unmistakable. “Well, well. I, uh, didn’t expect to see you,” he stammered.
“I’ll bet you didn’t,” Nancy said, pushing past him into the small room.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m inviting myself in,” said Nancy, “unless you’d like to step outside and discuss this in front of anyone who happens to come by.”
“Discuss what?” Erik asked warily.
“Jeffrey Long’s ‘accident,’ for starters. It seems you have an unlucky habit of being around people who ride bikes that fall apart. The Emerson campus police had some questions about that being an accident.”
“Wait a minute!” Erik said angrily. “They didn’t prove anything. A couple of guys in the frat house who were on my case set me up for that.” He stared at her with gray-blue eyes that were as cold as icicles. “Didn’t they tell you that the case was closed for lack of evidence?”
“They did,” Nancy said. “But they weren’t convinced you were innocent, either.” She was looking past Erik when she replied, gazing across the room at the hook on his closet door. “But we don’t lack evidence here, do we?”
Erik’s eyes followed her glance. He moved toward the closet, but Nancy was quicker. She snatched an object hanging from the hook and whirled around to face him, holding George’s knee support in her hand.
“Wait a minute,” Erik said as a red flush crept up his neck. “That was just a joke. Can’t you take a joke? Are you always so serious?”
“You bet I’m serious when my best friend is at risk!” Nancy snapped. “I don’t see anything funny about this. And I don’t see any humor in sabotaging her bicycle, either. She could have broken her neck.”
“Hold on,” Erik protested. “So I stole her stupid knee brace, but I didn’t touch her bike.” He held up his hand as if taking an oath. “I swear it. On my honor.”
Nancy gave him a withering look. “Right. I’m warning you, Erik,” she said in a low voice. “If you have any more tricks up your sleeve to harm George or to keep her from finishing this ride, you’re going to have to answer to me.”
She stormed out and hurried down the hall to the room she was sharing with George.
“Nancy!”
Ned’s voice stopped her just before she reached the door. He was coming up the stairs two at a time, grinning at her. “I’ve been sent to find you,” he said, giving her a hug. “George and CJ are in the compound working on her bike. Come on down and tell us what’s happening.”
“Oh, Ned,” she said, as they went downstairs. “That Erik is such a . . . sleazeball!”
George and CJ stopped working while Nancy told them Lieutenant Easterling’s information on Erik and Kendra, and described her confrontation with Erik.
“Do you think he did it?” George asked, pushing her hair back as she gripped a pair of pliers.
“I don’t know,” Nancy said. “He stole your knee brace for sure.” She tossed it to George. “But he was adamant about the bike. He says he didn’t touch it.”
“I vaguely remember hearing about Long,” Ned said.
“I was on an exchange program in Europe,” said CJ. He made no comment on the information about Kendra.
“One other thing,” Nancy said. “The burglar they arrested last night is the night manager at Ed’s Diner.”
George looked at her, startled. “Then Jennifer must know him.”
Nancy nodded. “But I don’t know where that fits in with everything else yet. Anyway, how’s the repair job going?”
“Slow,” George said. “But it could have been a lot worse. None of the spokes are broken, and nothing else is bent or damaged.”
“Where’s the rest of the group?” Nancy asked.
“Jennifer’s in her room. She’s not hungry. Believe it or not, Kendra went with Michael Kirby to the rock concert at the fair,” Ned said, raising his eyebrows. “And there goes Erik with that group that came in just before us.”
“Well, I’m starving,” Nancy said. “There has to be food at the fairgrounds. How far is it, do you know?”
“Less than a mile,” Ned replied. “We can leave the bikes here and walk.”
“You two go on ahead,” George said. “We’ll finish up and meet you at the grandstand.”
• • •
Nancy and Ned had no trouble finding the fairgrounds. Everyone was heading in that direction and the hurdy-gurdy music of the midway rolled out on the evening breeze, as did the smells of the animal barns that housed the livestock. They got some chili burgers and fries from one of the booths, then found seats in the grandstand behind Michael and Kendra just as the concert started. George and CJ finally arrived at the intermission.
“Mission completed?” Ned asked.
“All fixed and ready to ride,” said CJ. “I’ve even given it a trial run. That bike is as safe as a baby carriage.”
“As safe but not as slow, right?” George asked.
“Right!” said CJ, smiling at her affectionately. He handed her a hot dog and a can of soda from the cardboard tray he was carrying. “Here, this will take the edge off your appetite.”
Kendra, who had pointedly ignored the arrival of CJ and George, turned to Michael.
“I’ve heard enough of this hick band,” she said. “Let’s go.”
They disappeared into the crowd, and the foursome settled in on the bleachers for the second half of the concert.
“You know what I want to do?” Nancy said to Ned, after a couple of numbers.
“What am I now?” he asked her. “A swami? A crystal-ball reader?”
“Come on, Ned! What do I always want to do at a fair?”
Ned groaned. “I hoped we could avoid it this time,” he said. “You want to ride the Ferris wheel, right?”
“Right!” Nancy said brightly. She turned to CJ and George. “We’re going to the midway. We’ll meet you back here when the concert’s over.”
Hand in hand, Ned and Nancy strolled away from the concert area and over toward the midway. There was a large crowd in front of the Ferris wheel.
“Popular ride,” Ned said. “The line seems awfully long to me.”
“That’s because everybody loves the Ferris wheel,” Nancy teased. “Except maybe one or two misfits.”
“Excuse me, madam,” Ned said as the line began moving. “Are you insulting me?”
Nancy started to answer, but then touched her finger to her lips. Familiar voices were drifting over from the other side of a popcorn stand.
“She staged that accident just to get CJ to pay attention to her,” Kendra wailed. “She knew he was my property for this trip.”
“Not to worry, sweetheart,” Michael Kirby replied. “I have a feeling that”—he laughed—“George isn’t going to finish this bike trip, anyway!”
Chapter
Seven
NANCY GRASPED Ned’s arm tightly, and a worried expression crossed her face. “Ned! That was a threat if I ever heard one.”
“Now, don’t jump to conclusions, Nancy,” Ned said. “He may have been talking about the trouble George has had with her knee.”
“Ned, I have a funny feeling about him,” Nancy said. “I’m going back to warn George. I’m not going to let her out of my sight for a minute.” She stepped out of the line and headed for the bleachers, with Ned following.
“Do me a favor?” she asked over her shoulder. “Keep CJ busy while I talk to George. And I want to take a look at Michael’s van. No point in getting everybody upset about this.”
Ned nodded. The concert was just ending, and streams of people were leaving
the stands. Nancy spotted the tall couple coming toward them and waved. “Come on,” she said, running over to George and linking arms with her. “I want to show you something.” She hurried George toward the building that housed the crafts, homemade jams, and baked goods. “We’ll be back in a little while,” she shouted at Ned and CJ.
“What’s up?” George asked, puzzled by Nancy’s urgency. “Could you kidnap me later, Nan? I was kind of enjoying the company of a tall blond.”
“Sorry, George,” Nancy said as they entered the building, “but this kidnapping was necessary.” A long table displaying handmade afghans and quilts was just inside the door. Nancy paused by the table. “George,” she said, “when you first saw Michael and CJ at Bannon House with your bike, what did Michael say to you?”
George shrugged. “He just said he’d be glad to give me a lift back to Kenville.”
“Just you. Not you and CJ.”
George nodded.
“That’s the second time he’s offered to take you somewhere, right? The first time at the side of the road, and again at the Bannon compound.”
“Yes. What are you getting at, Nan?”
“It’s as if he’s trying to separate you from the group,” Nancy said. “I don’t like it.”
George grinned. “Are you discounting my feminine appeal, Ms. Drew?” She posed like a model, with one hand behind her head. “He probably just can’t resist my newest scent, Eau du Cycle. Boy, was I glad to get into a shower!”
Despite her concern, Nancy grinned. “George, I think CJ will vouch for your appeal, but I’m concerned about Michael Kirby. He’s spending a lot of time with our group—almost as if he’s following us—but he doesn’t know any of us. For a salesman, he doesn’t seem to be selling anything, and for a sporting goods rep, he didn’t think about the liability factor when your bike broke down. Something about him doesn’t ring true.