“This is interesting, too,” Nancy said, as she examined the contents of Jennifer’s wallet. “How tall are you, George?”
“Five feet eight inches, as if you didn’t know.”
“Color of hair?”
“What do you mean, color of hair?”
“Color of eyes?”
“What is this, Nancy? Twenty questions?”
Nancy laughed. “Look here,” she said, passing the wallet to George. “Look at her driver’s license. At a quick glance, who does that picture remind you of?”
George held the license out at arm’s length and looked at it critically. “The haircut’s the same, and she’s definitely a natural brunette.” She looked up at Nancy. A sense of foreboding passed between them as each stared at the other.
“Nan,” George said, “do you think somebody’s mistaking me for Jennifer?”
Chapter
Twelve
IT’S POSSIBLE,” Nancy said. “Someone who doesn’t really know Jennifer or someone who saw her when her hair was its natural color and combed this way. There’s a definite resemblance between the two of you.”
“Well, the color change explains the fifty-dollar check to the beauty shop,” George said.
“When did you say that was written?” Nancy asked, frowning.
“Friday. The day before yesterday. Why?”
“I was wondering why she’d have her hair color changed the day before a bike trip,” Nancy said. “I could understand if she were going to a dance or a party or something—but for a bike trip? It doesn’t make sense. Unless she had it done as a disguise, instead of just for vanity.” Nancy looked closely at George. “You know, you are built the same. In fact, when I saw her standing at the window in the lounge on Friday night, I mistook her for you.”
George nodded. “And remember on Saturday morning, Erik made some comment about her hair. Like he was seeing her as a blond for the first time. But they had classes together on Friday, I think. So she must have had her hair bleached Friday night. Which would explain why she didn’t go to work.” She paused and scratched her head. “Which explains what?”
Nancy shrugged. “Maybe nothing. Maybe she just wanted a change. But whatever it means, she used to resemble you in a general way.”
“Poor thing,” George quipped. “Same shape, same coloring, same build, but lucky for her, she doesn’t have my face!”
“Cut it out, George,” Nancy said. Her expression changed from a grin to a puzzled frown. “I think that your resemblance to Jennifer might explain your series of accidents.”
“You mean somebody’s after Jennifer?” The surprise in George’s voice was apparent.
Nancy looked up at her friend. “It’s possible. We have to figure out why. When did she make those deposits?”
George flipped through the pages of the check register and read off two dates, as Nancy jotted them down on a scrap of paper. “And there’s a third two-hundred-dollar deposit that she made on Wednesday.”
Nancy studied the information and shook her head. “I can’t figure out the significance,” she said. “Look, you go through her backpack and see if you find anything suspicious. I’m going to call the Emersonville police.”
“Okay,” George replied. She walked to the window and pulled aside the curtain and squinted into the night. “There’s a light in the phone booth, but that’s about all I can see. What if the party breaks up? I’ll need some warning to get out of here.”
“I’ll be able to see them from the booth,” Nancy said, “especially since there’s a bonfire. If they start coming toward the cabins, I’ll whistle. That means get out.”
“Got it,” said George. She already had Jennifer’s backpack unzipped and was systematically laying things out on the floor as she searched through the contents.
Nancy closed the door firmly behind her, and the lock clicked. After a cautious glance around, she jogged quietly toward the phone booth. She could hear the soft sounds of the group singing as she dialed the number. A woman officer, Sergeant Telfer, answered the call.
“This is Nancy Drew,” she said. “Is Lieutenant Easterling still around?”
“No, Ms. Drew, he left around dinnertime. But he told me you’d be calling. Let me see what I’ve got here.” There was a brief pause. “First of all, he wanted you to know that we did finally get hold of the judge, and we got a search warrant for Palumbo’s place.”
“Did you find the rest of the stuff?” Nancy asked.
“Not a thing,” said the sergeant. “His place was clean as a whistle.”
“Which means it’s almost certain that he’s passing on the stolen goods to a fence,” Nancy said.
“That’s what we figure. But we haven’t been able to link him to anyone, and he’s not volunteering anything.”
“Lieutenant Easterling was trying to get some information for me from the authorities in Florida,” Nancy continued. “Do you have it?”
Sergeant Telfer cleared her throat. “I hate to keep giving you negative news,” she said, “but we don’t have anything yet. They’ve got the tail end of a hurricane going through down there, and their computer system went down. I phoned them about an hour ago, and they said they should be back online soon. Can I call you as soon as the information comes in?”
Nancy bit her lower lip. What rotten luck. “No,” she said. “I’m at a pay phone in the middle of nowhere. I’d better call you back.”
“Okay. Give them about an hour. I should have something for you by then. Oh, and Ms. Drew?”
“Yes.”
“Lieutenant Easterling is worried about you. He said to tell you to be careful.”
“Thanks,” Nancy said. “I appreciate his concern, and I am being careful. I do have one more question for you,” Nancy continued. “It’s kind of off-the-wall, though.”
“Try me,” the sergeant said, laughing. “It can’t be any more off-the-wall than some I’ve fielded in this job.”
Nancy smiled at her good humor. “Have you ever heard of a beauty shop in Emersonville called Cassie’s Crowning Glory?”
“Heard of it?” The officer chuckled. “Cassie gets a chunk of my paycheck every month.”
“Great!” Nancy said. “Not about your paycheck,” she added quickly. “About my question. Do you know if Cassie’s shop is open evenings? Like, would she be open Friday nights?”
“Maybe not regularly,” the woman answered. “But Cassie’s pretty flexible. Her shop’s in her home. She pretty much opens up any time that anyone wants to have her hair done. She’s a widow. Not many demands on her time, except for her customers.”
Nancy’s thoughts were whirling as Sergeant Telfer talked. That meant that Jennifer could have had her hair bleached on Friday night. And she could have made a spur-of-the-moment decision to do it, which would explain why she had called in sick to work at the last minute and why Erik had made a comment about her hair on Saturday morning.
“One more question,” Nancy said. “Can you give me the dates of the previous burglaries?”
“Easy,” said the officer. “They’re burned into my memory.”
Nancy squinted at the scrap of paper in her hand as Sergeant Telfer quickly cited the dates. Each deposit in Jennifer’s account came two or three days after each of the three burglaries, previous to the Friday night break in. Was it coincidence, or was there a pattern that would link Jennifer Bover to the Emersonville burglaries?
“Are you still there, Ms. Drew?”
The woman’s voice brought Nancy back from her thoughts.
“Yes, sorry. I was just checking those dates against some bank deposits made by Jennifer Bover. She’s one of the riders on our bike trip.”
“Bover,” the sergeant repeated. “She’s someone Lieutenant Easterling checked on for you, right?”
“Right,” said Nancy. “But there was nothing on her. Look, would you do me a favor? He offered to check Bover with the campus police, and I told him it wouldn’t be necessary.”
&nb
sp; “Change your mind?” the officer asked.
“Yes,” Nancy said. “Could you please see if they have anything on her?”
“Sure. I’d be glad to.”
The beam of a flashlight on the slope caught Nancy’s attention, and she stretched the metal-coil phone cord to its limit as she leaned out for a better look. The singing had stopped, and in the glow from the fire, she could see figures outlined as they walked up the hill.
“I’ve got to go!” Nancy said urgently. “I’ll call back.” She slammed the receiver back on the hook and gave a loud piercing whistle as she glanced toward Jennifer’s cabin. She saw that it was dark. George must have already left, she thought.
Nancy shoved the scrap of paper into the pocket of her jeans and stepped outside the booth. As she did, there was a crackling of leaves behind the phone booth and the sound of footsteps.
Someone was running toward the woods. And, Nancy realized, that person must have been hiding nearby, listening to her conversation!
Chapter
Thirteen
NANCY ROUNDED the booth to chase the eavesdropper, but the person had already disappeared into the trees. How much had the person heard? Did the person know she had been talking to the police? She glanced back over her shoulder. The people coming up the hill had drifted off to their cabins, but another figure was running toward her. George! What was she doing out here?
“To your left!” George yelled.
She must have seen the person, too, as she was coming out of Jennifer’s cabin. Between the two of them, maybe they could cut him or her off.
As Nancy ran, her sneakers kept sliding on the slippery pine needles. Just as Nancy ducked under a low-hanging branch and veered to the left, she heard a thud. She stopped and turned. George had fallen! Nancy changed direction immediately and ran to her friend.
“Oh, rats,” George wailed. She was sitting on the ground, hugging one leg, which was bent at the knee. The other was stretched straight out in front of her. “I can’t believe how stupid I am!” She boosted herself up, putting her weight on one leg, and winced. “That stupid root or whatever it was. I didn’t even see it.”
“Of course you couldn’t see it,” Nancy said, quickly putting her arm around George’s waist to support her. “It’s dark, and it was covered with pine needles. Can you walk?”
“I’m not sure,” George said. “Talk about a big-time klutz. We almost had that person.” Gingerly she put her weight on the sore leg.
“I’m going to get Mr. Kipling,” Nancy said.
“No,” George said. “Just give me a hand back to the cabin.”
Nancy nodded. “Okay. Drape your arm over my shoulder. We’ll take it slow. Did you find anything in Jennifer’s room?”
“No.” George shook her head. “Nothing. I was out of there before they started back up from the beach. I was coming to get you when I heard you whistle. I thought I saw something, so I hid in that clump of bushes over there. That’s when I saw him running.”
“Or her,” said Nancy.
“Or her,” George repeated.
Supported by her friend, George half hopped, half hobbled back to their cabin.
“I’ll be fine in a few minutes,” she said, sitting down on the bed.
“I’m going over to the big house to get you some ice,” Nancy said. “And I’m locking you in.”
George nodded her thanks. “That’ll help more than anything,” she said. “The ice, not being locked in, I mean.” She gingerly reached forward and circled the sore knee with both hands. “It hasn’t started to swell,” she said. “Maybe it won’t. Nancy, could you tell who it was?”
“No,” Nancy replied. “We’ll talk when I get back. I’ll hurry.”
“Watch yourself out there,” George cautioned, but Nancy was already out of the cabin. George heard the lock click.
When Nancy returned with a plastic bowl full of ice, George was sitting in a chair by the window, with her leg propped up on another chair. She had a towel in her hands.
“Do you have any idea who it was?” George asked Nancy again, as she put the ice in the towel, then wrapped it around her knee. “Was it a man or a woman?”
“I don’t know,” said Nancy. “And I don’t know how long the person was there. I didn’t realize anyone was listening until I went to leave the booth.”
“Probably overheard your whole conversation,” George said morosely. “What did you find out?”
“Not much,” said Nancy. “The information from Florida hasn’t come in yet. The place where Jennifer got her hair done is open Friday nights, and each of the big deposits in her checking account was made a couple of days after the three other Emerson burglaries. Which isn’t exactly evidence of guilt. But . . .”
“But what?” George asked.
“But I have a hunch that somehow Jennifer is connected.” She looked over at George and waved her hands in a frustrated gesture. “I just don’t want to believe it of her, I guess. She doesn’t seem like the type to be mixed up in anything criminal.”
“I know,” George agreed. “She seems so wholesome. I mean, showing off that picture of her brothers and sisters. You can tell she really cares about her family.”
Nancy nodded. “Yes, and kids seem to gravitate to her, like those little boys on the swings at lunchtime yesterday.”
“And I heard her trying to talk Kendra into doing volunteer work with her at the Women’s Shelter on Saturday afternoons.”
Nancy sighed. “Dad says that often the ones who appear to be most innocent are the most guilty. I just hate to think Jennifer’s mixed up in anything bad.”
George sat up straighter and leaned over to peer out the window. “Somebody’s coming up the path.”
Nancy turned off the light and joined her at the window. “It must be Erik,” she said. “He stayed down at the beach after the others left to help Mr. Kipling clean up. They were coming back when I went to get the ice.”
A door slammed, and then a light went on inside Erik’s cabin, showing him clearly.
George sighed. “I guess that lets him out as an eavesdropping suspect,” she said. “Even the great Erik can’t be in two places at once.”
Nancy nodded. “Right. And after our talk today, I don’t think it was Kendra. She was very frank with me. She wouldn’t have any reason to eavesdrop on a phone call. By the way, since you’re the designated peeping Tom, has she come back to her cabin yet?”
“Home and probably all tucked in by now,” George reported. “Michael walked her to the door while you were getting ice, and then took off.”
Nancy nodded. “I noticed that his van was gone,” she said.
George gingerly stretched her leg out and shifted the ice pack. “This is feeling a little better,” she said. “I’m going to try to put my weight on it.” She stood up and took a few cautious steps. “Not bad. Not great, but not bad.” She turned to face Nancy, who was still standing at the window, looking out. “Nan, if you’ve ruled out Kendra and Erik, that leaves us with Michael and Jennifer.”
Nancy nodded, without turning her head. “Take a look at this,” she said, motioning to George.
George moved cautiously to the window and followed Nancy’s gaze. In the moonlight a solitary figure was moving stealthily away from the cabins toward the wooded area.
“It’s Jennifer,” Nancy whispered. “I’m going to follow her. Keep the light off.”
“Keep the light off?” George repeated, dramatically looking around. “Who are you talking to? I’m going with you!”
“Not with that knee,” Nancy said.
“But we’re not running this time,” said George. “We’re sneaking. And my knee is always up to sneaking.”
“Sorry,” Nancy said firmly. “I’m going solo. I won’t be long. Stand guard.” She opened the cabin door and exited before George could answer.
The light in Erik’s cabin went off as Nancy passed by. The rest of the units were already dark. Nancy stayed a safe distance from
Jennifer, taking care not to make any noise in the loose underbrush as she entered the woods. The moon, covered intermittently by slow-moving clouds, provided enough light for her to watch, as Jennifer stopped in a small clearing, crouched down, and began to dig. She had the small shovel from the barbecue pit, and it was clear to Nancy that she was burying something. But what?
She watched in silence as the blond girl took something from her fanny pack, placed it in the hole she had dug, covered it with dirt, and carefully brushed pine needles over it. Then she reached for a rock and planted it to one side of the burial site. After looking furtively around, she straightened up and hurried back to the path that led to the cabins.
Nancy waited until she heard the door to Jennifer’s cabin close before she moved into the woods. Unsure whether someone else might be lurking nearby, Nancy looked around warily, her ears straining for any foreign sounds in the hush of the night. Finally satisfied that she was alone, she took the rock that had been left as a marker and used it to scoop out the soft dirt, uncovering a small felt bag with a drawstring closure.
Nancy pulled the drawstring open and dumped the contents of the pouch into her palm. Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared in disbelief.
“The emeralds,” Nancy whispered, staring at the glittering jewelry. “The stolen emeralds.”
Chapter
Fourteen
NANCY STOOD UP SLOWLY, the jewelry still clutched in her hand. She felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach.
She was beginning to understand the reasons behind the accidents of the past forty-eight hours, but she was disappointed. She had hoped that Jennifer was not involved. That possibility was now out of the question. She slipped the jewels back into the pouch, pushed the pouch into her jacket pocket, and slowly walked back to the cabin.
“Well?” said George expectantly, turning on the lamp as Nancy softly closed the door behind her and locked it.
“Well,” said Nancy, reaching into her pocket, “she was burying this.” She opened the pouch and took out the emerald jewelry.