At the twelve-mile mark they hadn’t seen Munk yet. They passed the halfway mark at just over thirteen miles. Still nothing.
“We’ve been at this for over an hour,” Bess said, her eyes scouring the crowds lining the course.
“Water station up ahead on our right,” Detective Zandt called.
Nancy watched closely. The large folding table held many cups and was manned by a dozen or so volunteers. The van was ten yards ahead of Annette when Nancy saw a volunteer with longish dark hair edge forward with two paper cups in his hand. She stared to make absolutely certain . . .
“It’s him!” she said, keeping her voice down so that Munk wouldn’t hear. “In front of the table!”
At a word from Detective Zandt the van slowed to a crawl, and he, Nancy, and Bess jumped out. “Stokes? We have him spotted,” Detective Zandt said into his radio as he went. He quickly gave the location.
Nancy hit the ground running and dashed toward Munk. She was ten yards away when he saw her. For an instant his eyes locked with hers. Then he whirled and started to sprint away.
Nancy was on him before he could get up any speed. She launched herself forward, slamming her shoulder into his legs, and he crumpled forward. Before he could get up, Detective Zandt had pinioned Munk’s hands behind his back and put handcuffs on him. He jerked the man roughly to his feet.
“Are you crazy?” Munk shouted. “I’m a volunteer here!”
“It’s all over,” Nancy told him. “We know everything . . . Mr. Munk. When Gina Giraldi recovers, she’ll be able to put you away for a long time.”
Calvin Munk paled, and his jaw muscles clenched. “I should have killed her when I had the chance!” he spat out. “And Annette—she deserves to die! She ruined my life! She remembered me . . . the scandal. She threatened to go public—”
“Don’t worry,” Bess cut in. “Annette will pay for what she did, too.”
While the detective read Munk his rights, two squad cars pulled up on a side road, sirens wailing.
“Why did you attack Gina Giraldi?” Nancy asked as two uniformed officers came to take Calvin Munk away. “Did she recognize you, too?”
The man nodded. “I think so. I recognized her, from Europe. When I heard that reporter say that Gina would expose someone connected with the marathon, I couldn’t take the chance that it was me. I had to shut her up first.”
“You were the one who tried to drop that huge pot on our heads!” Bess accused.
Munk glared at her. “You were stupid not to get the message and back off.” He was still ranting angrily when the patrolmen led him to their car.
“Come on,” Detective Zandt said, heading for the other squad car.
“Where are we going?” Nancy asked.
“To the finish line,” he replied. “You want to be there when we collar Annette Lang, don’t you?”
• • •
The finish line was in Grant Park, under a decorative archway. A digital clock on top of the arch ticked off the time elapsed since the start of the race. It read 2:18. Reporters, photographers, and fans were waiting for the lead runners to appear.
Nancy noticed Irene Neff pacing nervously near the red tape. She went over to the woman and told her about Calvin Munk. Irene’s jaw dropped in amazement.
“Renee will be upset,” she said. “Charles helped to make her what she is.”
Nancy returned to where Bess, Detective Zandt, and Sergeant Stokes were standing, just beyond the reporters at the finish line.
“The lead runners will be here in about fifteen minutes,” Sergeant Stokes informed them. “Last we heard, Renee Clark and Annette Lang were neck and neck.”
“I wonder how George is doing?” said Bess.
“She won’t finish for at least an hour after the winner,” Nancy said.
Soon she heard a burst of cheering and applause, then more cheering, even closer. As the cheering grew still louder, she saw Renee Clark sprint to the tape. She looked tired and winded, but her face was lit up in a winner’s smile. Behind her by a hundred yards was Annette Lang, running as hard as she could.
Irene Neff rushed up to Renee, and the two hugged. Nancy heard Renee ask, “Where’s Charles?”
“He couldn’t be here,” said Irene. “I’ll explain after you meet the press.” Renee’s beaming grin faded to a look of puzzled concern, but she let herself be led to the circle of reporters.
As Annette crossed the finish line, cameras flashed, and there was more cheering. The detectives waited until she had caught her breath, then approached her.
“We’d like to talk to you, Ms. Lang,” said Sergeant Stokes.
“Now? Why?” Annette asked, taken aback. “It’ll have to wait—I’ll be with the press for a while.”
“Do you want your arrest filmed for the evening news?” Stokes asked.
Annette gave a short, sharp laugh. “My arrest? I’m the victim here, remember?”
“Annette, I found out who was responsible for the threats against you,” Nancy said, meeting Annette’s glare. “I found out that it was you.”
“Calvin Munk is under arrest,” Sergeant Stokes added. “He’s talking to my men now.”
When Annette didn’t say anything, Nancy said, “That’s a nasty bruise on your shin. That must be from when I kicked you, after you attacked me at the Winning Margin.”
Annette gave a long sigh, “You could never understand,” she said. “After all this time in the spotlight, I couldn’t see myself becoming a has-been, tomorrow’s trivia. I figured if I could get a shot at TV work, I’d still be a somebody.”
“How did you connect Munk and Mellor?” Nancy wanted to know.
“His handwriting,” Annette said. “He looks a lot different now from the way he did then—new hair color, clean-shaven, thinner—everything. But once I saw his writing, I saw through the rest. I knew it was him.”
Annette smiled, as if she were proud of her treachery. “He once sent me a note of congratulations for a race I won in France. The day we got here, I saw him pin a note to Renee on the message board, and I recognized the writing—it’s very distinctive. I already had the plan, but I needed someone to help me, and I put the pressure on him. But I had nothing to do with Gina!” she exclaimed. “That was his doing!”
“You still have plenty to answer for,” Sergeant Stokes said, leading her to a police car. He stopped and turned to Nancy.
“I have to hand it to you. You’d make a fine police officer.”
Nancy blushed and murmured her thanks. The police drove away with Annette, but Nancy and Bess waited for George near the huge digital clock. Kevin joined them a while later.
More and more runners were coming across the finish line. A few collapsed and were helped up by volunteers and taken to first-aid stations.
“There she is!” Bess screamed, pointing down the course. It was George, looking more elated than tired. At the finish line she looked up at the clock, and her face lit up.
Bess rushed over and flung her arms around her. “Three hours, forty-seven minutes! A personal record!” George gasped, returning Bess’s hug and then doing the same with Nancy. “Munk,” she said, “is he—”
“In custody. Annette, too,” Nancy assured her.
“Hi,” said Kevin, giving George a big hug.
“Good work. I was thinking of making a trip to River Heights—maybe in a week,” Kevin went on. “How does that sound?”
“It sounds perfect,” George told him, grinning. “I can’t wait!”
Kevin turned to Bess. “Listen, I have a friend I think you’d like to meet. Want me to call him tonight? We can all go out to dinner together.”
Bess’s blue eyes shone for a second. Then she got a suspicious look on her face.
“What does he do?”
“He’s a runner, middle-distance events—”
“No, thanks,” Bess said, cutting him off. “I’ll pass.”
“But why?” Kevin asked, perplexed.
“I’ve sworn
off runners,” she said. “They all have one-track minds—and the only thing on them is track!”
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Simon Pulse
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
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Copyright © 1992 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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Carolyn Keene, Running Scared
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