After a few minutes a brown SUV with tinted windows pulled up and parked right in front of Barney’s car. We all watched carefully as the door opened and a dark shape climbed out, arms laden with full egg cartons. At first all we could make out was a dark profile, but then the shape moved to Barney’s window, passing under a streetlight, and knocked.
“Oh noooooo,” George whispered, watching intently, her face paling. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. I thought this couldn’t get any worse.”
I looked to where she was looking but couldn’t see any cause for distress; the shape had morphed into an older, bulkier-looking version of Barney. This version had dark hair cropped close to his head, and he wore a rumpled-looking button-down shirt instead of a T-shirt, but the resemblance was unmistakable.
“I should have known,” George was moaning. “I should have seen the resemblance! Oh, man . . .”
I caught Bess’s eye in the rearview mirror, but she looked just as confused as I felt.
“What’s the problem here?” Bess asked. “I mean, besides the obvious Committing Vandalism in a Strange Town for Dubious Reasons problem.”
George groaned again. “I went on a date with that guy,” she said, pointing at Big Barney. “His name is Jake, and I’m guessing Barney is his brother. I think Carrie set us up, actually. It was a long time ago, but he’s going to know my name isn’t Jackie and that I don’t go to St. Mary’s.”
I was already automatically pushing the key back toward the ignition. We could make a break for it, make some stupid excuse to Eloise and Barney; Mirabelle got spooked, or I really had to use the bathroom. We could get away before anyone noticed the resemblance between Jackie and this girl Jake once went on a date with. But then I was surprised by a knock on my window. Eloise!
I swallowed hard and rolled down my window. “You startled me!” I cried. “The thing is, um, Mirabelle really has to use the—”
“And this is Katrina!” Barney’s puppyish voice piped up behind my car, and I turned to find him just a few feet away with Jake beside him. Both of them were holding several cartons of eggs now. Jake looked down at me and waved, and then, horrifyingly, knelt to look inside my car. “Nice wheels,” he said, nodding, looking from the dash to the passenger seat. “Is this a two thousand . . . Hey, it’s you!”
George cringed. She’d been spotted. And it was too late—my chance to bolt had passed.
My heart sank. Caught.
George slowly folded herself out of the passenger seat and opened her door, standing and smiling broadly at Jake. “Hey there, Jake,” she said in a confident voice. I realized she was still hoping she could save this. “It’s Jackie, remember?”
Jake frowned. He shook his head slightly. “No, your name isn’t Jackie,” he said. “Are you playing a joke? Because I’m sure of it. Your name was really unusual, for a girl—Bob or Steve or something. I know! George.”
George’s face fell. Barney looked from Jake to her, still smiling hopefully.
“Nah, man,” he told his brother, “these are Katrina’s friends from St. Mary’s. Mirabelle and Jackie.”
Jake furrowed his brow. “St. Mary’s? No, that’s not right either.” He put the eggs down on the roof of my car and pointed at George. “Her name is George, and she’s from River Heights. We went to a party together. She’s Carrie Kim’s friend. Remember her?”
A pack of confused faces turned to all of us, pale in the harsh streetlight. I felt my heart plummet into my stomach.
Eloise was the first to speak, all her friendliness disintegrating as she turned her hard gaze on me.
“All right, Katrina,” she said, her lips twisting into a snarl. “How about you tell us what’s really going on?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Ugly Truth
“YOU DON’T GO TO BOYLESTOWN high, do you?” Eloise went on, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “That explains why I’ve never seen you during school hours. I can’t believe I never even asked you what grade you were in!”
I looked uneasily at my friends. “We can explain. . . .”
“You’re Carrie Kim’s friend,” Barney said, pointing at George with an angry expression. “That’s what Jake just said, right?”
George looked doubtfully at me. “I—well, yes. She’s my cousin.”
A gasp went through the little crowd.
Barney turned his glare to me now. “You came up to me at the protest, asking me all these questions about how the sports complex would impact the environment, and the whole time you’re working for Carrie Kim’s campaign? Man, how could I be so dense! You were just pumping me for information she could use to crush us!”
I shook my head. “Barney, that’s really not true.”
“Then what are you doing, Katrina?” Eloise asked, folding her arms in front of her chest. “If that’s even your real name? Since Jackie is really George, and I’m going to guess your mother didn’t actually name you Mirabelle,” she added with a pointed glare at Bess.
I took a breath. “I’m Nancy,” I said. “Nancy Drew. Look, I’m really sorry. It was never my intention to mislead you guys.”
“Really?” Barney asked, his eyebrow raised in doubt.
I thought about that for a minute. “Well . . . okay. Honestly, it was. But it wasn’t just to mess with you or hurt your feelings. I’m trying to find out who keeps harassing Carrie Kim.”
Eloise perked up. “Carrie Kim is being harassed?”
In brief, I told her the whole sordid story: the note at the block party, the manipulated recording, and finally, the deceased squirrel that arrived in the mail. Barney paled visibly at that story.
Eloise looked utterly disgusted. “My God,” she muttered. “You must think I’m an animal!”
“No, I don’t,” I insisted, then gave a helpless shrug. “But I didn’t know how committed you were to the environmental cause or how far you’d go to stop the sports complex.”
Eloise shook her head, then looked me confidently in the eye. “I’m very committed to the environmental cause. And I’ll do anything within my power—anything ethical, I mean—to keep the sports complex from being built. But I would never kill a squirrel. Jeez!”
I glanced at Bess and George, who looked just as sheepish as I felt. Okay, I’d totally misjudged this one.
“Anyway,” Eloise went on, placing a hand on her hip, “I believe in democracy. The voters get to decide whether Carrie Kim gets a town council seat, not just me.”
“But,” I put in, as an important detail came back to me, “you had some Boylestown Teachers Association stationery in your locker.”
Eloise frowned. “Yeah?” she asked. “And . . . ?”
I explained. “The first note Carrie got, the one that was handed to her at the block party, was written on BTA stationery. That’s what led us to the high school in the first place. The paper smelled of smoke, and I was thinking Ms. Meyerhoff might have been involved.”
Kiki, the Mohawked girl, sneered at me. “Ms. Meyerhoff?” she asked. “Sheesh, you aren’t a very good detective. Ms. Meyerhoff wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Barney nodded sagely. “She’s actually a member of PETA,” he explained, naming the famous animal rights organization. “There’s no way she would send you a dead squirrel. She’s the most peaceful person you’ll ever meet.”
Eloise was looking more and more annoyed. “The stationery in my locker does belong to Ms. Meyerhoff,” she added, “so score one for Nancy Drew, I guess. But I didn’t steal it as part of some nefarious plot to scare your cousin. I work as her teacher’s assistant third period, and I write letters for her sometimes. That’s all.”
Ahhhh. I glanced at Bess and George. Score one for Nancy Drew . . . so why did I feel like this whole experience had been a spectacular failure? I’d upset some perfectly nice-seeming kids. And most infuriating, I was no closer to figuring out who actually was harassing Carrie.
Suddenly a bright light turned on outside the house we were standing in front of, blinding
all of us. A loud male voice boomed out from behind the light. “Who’s out there? Are those eggs? Eloise Stromberg, is that you again?”
“Oh no,” Eloise muttered, looking around at the dozens of eggs Barney and Jake were holding. “I can’t get caught again. Scatter, guys!”
I didn’t know what to do for a moment, but then loud footsteps came pounding down the walkway from the house, and Eloise and her friends suddenly took off running in all different directions. Jake and Barney tossed the eggs on the ground, and Jake bolted down a winding driveway across the street. I looked helplessly at my friends.
“Don’t just stand there,” Bess hissed. “Run!”
I ran. Not gracefully or straight, but I ran. I took off down the road and then turned down a narrow alley that was brightly lit at the other end, implying that it let out into another street. I heard footsteps behind me and my heart squeezed, but when I emerged from the alley and dared to look behind me before I took off across a huge green lawn, I saw that it was only Barney running behind me.
“Keep going,” he said panting. “The guy ran down the street this way.”
So I cut across the lawn and then across the street, down a narrow, rocky footpath that led down to the parking lot for a local playground. When we were there, I paused to think about where to run next, and I felt Barney place a hand on my shoulder. He was still panting, trying to catch his breath.
“Think . . . we’re safe.” He gasped, then collapsed onto the pavement.
I was panting too. I put my hands on my hips and walked back and forth, waiting for my breathing and heartbeat to return to normal. “How will . . . I get home?” I managed finally, casting a nervous eye in the general direction of my car.
“You’ll drive,” Barney said, sounding a little stronger now. “Karlowski . . . he’s caught us before. He chases . . . until he gets tired. Which is, like . . . five minutes. Then he gives up.”
I nodded. “Oh.” Barney looked a little more together now—his breathing was almost back to normal—but he was still sitting on the ground, staring at the pavement. He ran a hand through his hair, wiping the sweat from his brow, and then brought up his other hand and cradled his head. He looked utterly miserable.
“What a night,” he muttered. All his pink-cheeked, smiley puppyishness was gone, and he looked older, and also tired.
It made me feel terrible.
“Barney, I’m really sorry I lied to you,” I said, meaning it.
He shrugged. “I get why you did it, I guess.” He looked up at me, and there was a spark of playfulness back in his eye. “It’s just my curse to appreciate mysterious women.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that.
Barney glanced in the direction we’d come and listened for a moment. “I think it’s probably safe,” he said.
I nodded, and together we made our way back up the path, through the alley, and back to our cars. When we got there, Bess’s blond head popped up over the roof.
“We think Karlowski went inside a few minutes ago,” she whispered. “It didn’t look like he even noticed your car.”
George stood up next to her, stretching, and gave Barney an awkward nod. “Hey.”
Barney nodded back. “Well, I’ll leave you ladies,” he said, looking over at his own car. “It looks like most of my passengers are back.” He paused. “Erm . . . I’d say it’s been fun, but actually, it hasn’t.”
I cringed and nodded. “Fair enough. I hope you have a much better tomorrow, Barney. You deserve it.”
He shrugged and turned away. “See you around, I guess.”
I glanced at my friends, and together we all opened up our respective doors and climbed back into the car. I put the key in the ignition, but then just sat there for a moment, sighing. “That,” I said finally, “was not my finest hour of sleuthing.”
Bess reached up from the backseat and patted my arm. “Oh, don’t feel bad, Nance,” she said encouragingly. “The stationery sent us in the wrong direction. We can take another look at the notes, and maybe the box the squirrel was sent in? Maybe that will give us some leads.”
George was staring out the window, and she nodded and turned back to face us. “We’ve definitely been looking in the wrong direction,” she said. “Whoever’s harassing Carrie, they’re bigger and more dangerous than a bunch of eco-loving high school kids.”
The next day I was desperate to do something worthwhile. So Bess, George, and I all headed down to Carrie’s Boylestown headquarters to volunteer. There was lots to do, because Carrie had to let several staff members go when she realized she couldn’t afford to pay them. The three of us stuffed envelopes, handed out flyers near the busy supermarket, and updated Carrie’s database of supporters. By five I was feeling a lot better and had almost forgotten the disaster that was the night before.
Carrie paid for a pizza for all of us, and we ate it eagerly around the big folding table by the wall.
“It feels like we’re making some headway,” Julia said brightly, looking up from her laptop to take a quick sip of diet soda. “I just confirmed five new friends on Facebook!”
But Carrie’s face remained inscrutable. “Great,” she said sarcastically, pulling the crust off her pizza. “That almost makes up for the five hundred or so we’ve lost since the whole recording debacle.”
Julia frowned. “Carrie, you have to stay positive,” she urged.
Carrie put down her pizza and took in a breath. “I’m trying,” she said. “But it’s really hard when the front page of the Boylestown paper looks like this!”
She pulled a Boylestown Bugle out from behind the table, and I gasped. There was a photo on the front page from the disastrous dinner, with Carrie standing at the podium, looking horrified as the manipulated recording played. LOCAL CANDIDATE CAUGHT ON TAPE INSULTING VOTERS, the headline screamed. In smaller letters, the headline asked, IS THIS THE END FOR THE KIM CAMPAIGN?
Bess and George looked as surprised as I was. “How long has this been all over the papers?” George asked.
Carrie shrugged. “Since it happened,” she said, folding the paper and putting it back behind the table. “But each time they run another story, we lose even more donors. It just keeps getting worse and worse. I’m almost out of money, cuz.” She poked at her pizza and groaned. “I really wanted to do something for this town, and especially for those high school athletes. But I’m beginning to think maybe I should quit while I’m ahead.”
Julia jumped up from her seat. “Carrie, no!” she insisted, walking over to her longtime friend. “You can’t just give in like that. You care too much about this town.”
Carrie shrugged. “But does this town care about me?” she asked. “They loved me when I was this big tennis champ. But now—I almost feel like the townspeople want me to move!”
“That’s not true,” Julia said. “Remember the elderly folks we talked to at the senior center yesterday? They loved your idea of bringing elderly volunteers into the schools.”
Carrie blinked, then nodded slowly. “Meeting with them was probably the one good point in my last week,” she agreed.
Julia narrowed her eyes. “And kids still like the sports complex idea,” she went on, as if speaking her thoughts as they came to her, “plus lots of parents. That’s still a really good idea, Car—some yahoo with a squirrel issue notwithstanding.”
Julia seemed to be going deeper and deeper into her own thoughts. Carrie looked over at George, shrugged, and took a bite of pizza. “Too bad good ideas don’t pay the bills,” she muttered, sipping her soda.
Julia’s eyes widened. “That’s IT!” she shouted, loud enough to make us all jump. We looked at her curiously.
“Why can’t a good idea pay the bills?” Julia asked, running back to her laptop and typing furiously. “The sports complex is still the best idea you have. What we need to do is throw a big event to get the town back on our side!”
“A big event?” Carrie asked disbelievingly. “Jules, have you not been listening? We don
’t have money to pay the bills. Much less throw some big event!”
I looked at my friends and noticed that Bess’s expression had turned all moony and thoughtful. Uh-oh.
“She’s right,” said Bess, standing up and smiling in Julia’s direction. “The high school athletes still support Carrie, and the town supports them.”
Julia looked up at Bess like she’d just invented the lightbulb. “That gives me an amazing idea!” She stood, throwing her arms out to either side. “What if we throw a joint fund-raiser for the campaign and for the football team? We could split the profits fifty-fifty and have some football players come make speeches in support of Carrie. You know they would, Car. This could totally save your campaign!”
I had to admit, it sounded like a great idea. But when I looked over at Carrie, she still looked hesitant.
“I . . . it’s a good idea, Julia,” she said, looking down at the table and sighing before she turned back to us and went on. “But how am I going to pay for it? I’m going to have to borrow money. And then what if it doesn’t work? Not only is my campaign over, but I’m in debt.”
Julia moved in closer. “Come on, Carrie. It’s a gamble, I know. . . .”
“But it’s a good gamble,” Bess put in. She moved closer, nodding her head. “Trust us, Carrie—this is a safe bet. It’s a really good idea. If all goes as planned, it could not only save your campaign but get you elected—and isn’t that the most important goal?”
Carrie still didn’t look convinced. But I could see from her thoughtful expression that she was beginning to consider it. “I guess I could ask my dad for a loan. Short-term, to be paid back as soon as the fund-raiser is over,” she murmured, then shook her head and pushed her pizza away. She looked at George. “Cuz, what do you think? You have a good head on your shoulders, and I feel like I’m not in my right mind right now. Is this a good idea, or is it just going to make things worse?”