Carrie looked up at me, confused. “Sure, what about?”
I shook my head. “It could be nothing.”
Carrie nodded, and I led her out of the little room into the hallway, down toward the kitchen. Inside, a crew of caterers were working at top speed to get salads and appetizers out to thirty tables of ten people each. Things were chaotic, and nobody noticed us watching as a stream of waiters walked briskly out, each carrying a big tray of salads high above his or her head.
“Do you see that waiter?” I asked, pointing to Barney, who now looked all crisp and proper in his black-and-white uniform.
Carrie squinted. “The kid with the dark hair?”
I nodded. Carrie looked at me curiously.
“Do you remember whether he worked the last fund-raiser?” I asked.
Carrie frowned. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I don’t remember all the faces. But yeah, I think I saw him there. And it’s likely; we used the same catering service.” She gave me a quizzical look. “Why?”
I watched Barney disappear into the ballroom. “No reason.” I turned back to Carrie with what I hoped was an encouraging expression. “Well, Bess and George and I probably should find our seats and let you work on your speech. Should we try to take Julia, too?”
Carrie smiled with relief. “Oh gosh, that would be great.”
We went back into the little room, where I told Bess and George that we’d better get seated, and George convinced Julia to come find her table with us; Carrie needed alone time to psych herself up. Bess, George, and I headed back to the table where Ned waited; Julia took her seat at a table near the front.
As I settled into my seat, though, I watched Barney carefully as he emerged from the kitchen again, a pitcher of water in each hand.
Maybe I haven’t caught you yet, I thought, but I’m keeping my eye on you.
CHAPTER TEN
A Surprising Speech
IT SOON BECAME CLEAR THAT I wouldn’t have to work too hard to keep an eye on Barney. He was our waiter! Just seconds after we’d taken our seats, Barney hefted two pitchers of water over to our table. A few feet away, he seemed to spot me and shook his head, like I can’t believe it. But he pasted on a professional smile and kept going, ducking his head politely as he filled our water glasses. When he got to mine, he wouldn’t make eye contact at all. When he got to Ned, he “accidentally” missed the glass and got a little puddle on Ned’s lap.
“Sir, I’m so sorry,” Barney said in a smooth voice, grabbing Ned’s napkin and going to swipe at the spot.
“It’s fine.” Ned grabbed the napkin and sponged himself off. “Accidents happen.” But after Barney nodded and made his way back into the kitchen, he leaned over to me and whispered, “Isn’t that the guy you were talking to outside?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t think he’s my biggest fan—or yours.”
Ned watched Barney’s back as he walked away, shrugging. “Hazards of a sassy girlfriend, I guess.”
I smiled, but already my mind was cranking on another idea. I asked Bess for a piece of paper and a pen, which of course she was able to produce from her huge purse in about five seconds. (I love having prepared friends.) Cupping my hand around the paper as the rest of the table discussed the latest episode of The Amazing Race, I carefully wrote:
Barney,
I’m sorry I accused you. I know you’re not a bad guy. Forgive me?
—Nancy
A few minutes later Barney was back with a huge tray filled with salads. He carried a little metal stand with him, which he set up on the floor and then placed the big tray on top of it. Without making eye contact, he began swiftly sliding a plate in front of every diner. When he got to mine I slipped the note into his hand.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, quietly enough so that only he could hear.
Barney disappeared again, and we all eagerly dug into our salads. Ned, Bess, George, and I were sharing the table with two Boylestown basketball players and their dates. They all seemed very nice and were interested to learn that we knew Carrie and were working on her campaign. George eagerly told them all the things that made Carrie the best candidate for town council, and I noted that now when George talked about the sports complex, she seemed authentically excited about it. How things change!
I tried to pay attention and contribute to the conversation, but my eye kept wandering to the door where waiters occasionally popped out of the kitchen. It was one of the quietest times of the meal for the waitstaff, because the attendees needed time to finish their salads, and entrées were likely already set out. At one point, I watched Barney come out of the kitchen, lean against the wall, and make conversation with a tall Asian girl about our age, also part of the waitstaff. He glanced over in my direction and I quickly looked down, not wanting to get caught. But even after I turned back to the conversation at our table, I felt his gaze lingering.
Finally Barney came to clear our plates. He didn’t look at me at all as he grabbed the plate containing a good half of my portion—I’d been too distracted to eat. I kept watching him hopefully, but he never acknowledged me, and soon disappeared with the dirty plates back into the kitchen. I felt my heart sink. Did my plan fail?
But a few minutes after that, as Bess was telling one of the basketball players’ dates about an amazing nail salon she’d found in Boylestown, Barney reappeared from the kitchen—this time carrying a tray of entrées. He strode purposefully to our table, still not looking at me, and began placing the dish in front of each attendee. He placed mine last, and before he pulled his hand away, he found my hand and shoved a piece of paper into it.
By the time I realized what had happened, he was gone.
The rest of the table was laughing at something Ned had said as I unfolded the paper and looked inside.
FORGET IT—NO BIG DEAL.
Five words. But it wasn’t the words I was interested in, it was the handwriting. As I stared at the blocky, evenly spaced letters, my blood chilled.
It was the same handwriting that had been used on both notes to Carrie. The same handwriting as the message scrawled in paint on the front entrance.
I could feel the blood rushing in my ears. I was right! Barney is really behind everything! I’d thought he was so cheerful and harmless—how had I been so fooled?
Now I watched him emerge from the kitchen again and settle, leaning against the wall, with a good view of the podium. Oh no, I thought. The speeches were going to start any minute. So far Barney had made his point using anonymous notes, a manipulated recording, a dead squirrel, and a can of paint. What else was he planning for this fund-raiser?
How is he going to ruin it?
I wasn’t going to wait around and find out. I jumped out of my chair, and when all eyes turned to me, mumbled a feeble “Excuse me—restroom,” before heading off toward the backstage room where I’d found Carrie with Bess, George, and Julia earlier.
I shoved through the door, only to find the room empty. I backed up and looked around, and soon spotted Julia, standing with her arms folded as she leaned against a plain white door.
I ran up to her. “Julia! I need to talk to Carrie. It’s urgent.”
Julia narrowed her eyes at me. She must have gone into the restroom to clean herself up; her hair had been tucked back into its complicated updo, and her yellow dress was now wrapped with a peach-colored shawl, hiding the stains and smears of red paint. She looked nearly TV-ready.
“Carrie’s not to be disturbed,” she said coolly. “She’s in this restroom putting the finishing touches on her speech. I’m sure we don’t have to tell you, Nancy, these speeches have become more important than ever! It’s crucial that she get the tone just right.”
I was a little stunned by how completely Julia had reverted to her usual calm, responsible self. Wasn’t she just sobbing a few minutes ago? Telling the press that “this campaign is a nightmare”? Did she realize that half the reason Carrie had to get the speech just right was to undo all the damage Jul
ia had done?
“It’s kind of an emergency,” I said, looking urgently at the door. “Can you get her?”
Julia looked me over thoughtfully, then uncrossed her arms and took my shoulder. “Maybe I can help you. Let’s talk elsewhere.”
She led me down the hallway toward the kitchen, stopping just before the entrance to the ballroom. “Now, what’s up, Nancy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
The words tumbled out in a rush. “I think I know who the note writer and squirrel killer and entrance painter is.”
Julia raised her eyebrows. “You do? Who?”
I turned and looked toward the ballroom. Sure enough, Barney was still leaning casually against the wall, nibbling a fingernail and waiting for the speeches to start.
“It’s that waiter. Right there—with the black hair.”
Julia turned to look at him, then turned back to me with a thoughtful frown. “How can you be sure?”
I told her the whole story as briefly as I could. How I’d met Barney trying to find out more about Ms. Meyerhoff, and the whole Green Club misadventure. How I’d seen the stationery in Eloise’s locker. How Barney had likely been a waiter at both of Carrie’s fund-raising events. And most importantly, the sample of his handwriting—which I pulled out to show Julia—which clearly was the same handwriting used on both notes and outside, in the paint.
Julia’s brow seemed crease further and further with each piece of evidence. Finally she looked up from the note into my eyes. “Very impressive, Nancy,” she said, nodding slowly. “You’re a very clever girl. Thank you for telling me. You can go back to your seat—I’ll take care of it.”
I stared at her, surprised. “Take care of it how?” I asked. “We need to get him out of here. Who knows what he’ll try next?”
Julia glanced over at Barney, then turned back to me, leaning in to speak quietly right into my ear. “I want to keep this quiet, Nancy. This night has already been a bit of a PR nightmare. I realize I’m responsible for that, and I’m so sorry, but I can’t take it back now—I just need to keep the campaign rolling.” She paused and gave me a serious look. “I’m going to call the police and they’ll come get Barney. But I don’t want to make a big scene, okay? We’re going to try to handle this without any of the audience finding out.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but then stopped. It felt wrong—not to see Barney led out in handcuffs, not to have my big moment of I knew it was you! as he was led out by the cops. But when I thought about what Julia had said, I knew she was right. I’d become involved in this case because I believed in Carrie’s campaign and didn’t want to see it destroyed. And what was best for her campaign was to handle this quietly, with little fanfare.
“Okay,” I said softly, with a little nod. “I’ll go sit down. But can you tell the police to hurry, please? I’m worried about what might happen if Barney’s here for the speeches.”
Julia agreed. “I hear you, and I’ll tell them,” she said, shaking her head. “The last thing we need is another embarrassing incident!”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. Thanks.”
Julia actually patted me on the back as I turned and made my way back to the table. When I sat down I looked back in her direction and could see that she was already deep in conversation on her cell phone. She gave me a little wave, then disappeared back into the hallway.
I tried to regulate my breathing.
George reached over and squeezed my arm. “You okay, Nance? Your face is a little flushed.”
Breathe. Breathe. “I’m okay.” I considered telling her what had happened, but the basketball players and their dates were all watching us eagerly, their faces warm with concern. “I—I thought I saw a mouse in the restroom. I hate mice. But it was just a dust bunny.”
Everyone laughed, and before the conversation could progress much further, a tall, burly redhead stood up and approached the podium.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “My name is Ted Gelman, and I play tight end for the Boylestown High School state champion football team.”
The audience erupted in cheers. Ted was one of the three football players Julia had selected to get up and speak about the athletics program and how Carrie’s proposal would change things for the better. I struggled to relax as Ted’s speech continued without incident. He was self-deprecating and funny, and the audience was responding just as we’d hoped they would—with warmth and interest.
But when Ted had been speaking only a few minutes, I glanced up and my heart jumped into my throat. Barney was approaching with a carafe of coffee. As I watched carefully, he went around the table, pouring coffee into George’s and Ned’s cups. I demurred, and he nodded kindly and moved on. If he had any idea that I’d told Julia to call the police to take him away, he gave no indication.
Speaking of which, where were the police?
Ted finished his speech to roaring applause, and then a shorter African-American boy with dreadlocks stepped up to the podium. “Hi, I’m Trent Wickham, and I play defense for the Boylestown High School state champion football team,” he began. Again, the audience greeted him with warm applause. Trent began talking about what the football program meant to him, how it had changed his life and his outlook, and I stared stubbornly at the clock. Then Barney, who was leaning against the wall again. Then the clock.
Where are the police?
My heart was beginning to pound. Barney might have planned something to disrupt the speeches at any minute—and who knew what that something could be? So far his stunts had just been meant to embarrass Carrie, but what if he’d planned something more dangerous? What if someone got hurt? It might seem far-fetched, but he’d killed a squirrel, for goodness’ sake. Wasn’t that one of the warning signs of a child sociopath—cruelty to animals?
“Anyway,” Trent was saying, and I realized that five more minutes had gone by and I’d not heard a single word of his speech. “I just want to express my wholehearted support of Carrie Kim, who was an athlete herself, and her amazing sports complex proposal, which will change the lives of many more young people like me.”
Everyone whooped and clapped, and I slapped my hands together on autopilot. Should I find Julia again? But then I saw them.
Two uniformed Boylestown police officers, making their way along the side of the ballroom toward the kitchen.
My heart leaped. They headed toward the kitchen, and one of the cops said something to Barney, who looked confused. The second officer gestured for him to calm down, and then pointed down the hallway, like he wanted the three of them to go and talk elsewhere. Barney frowned but followed, still looking confused, and the three of them slipped out of my sight.
It took every bit of willpower I had not to leap up and run down the hallway, but I knew that in doing so, I would only make more of a scene. Still, I focused every hearing muscle I had in the direction of the kitchen. Maybe I was just imagining things, but I felt I could make out raised voices over the din of conversation as the third football player slated to speak, a red-faced blond boy, stood up.
“WHAT?!” The shout was brief and furious, and definitely Barney’s voice. I squirmed in my seat, but just then the football player stepped up to the podium, and the crowd began cheering wildly.
“I’m Frankie Ludlow,” he said, “and I play QB for the Boylestown High School state champion football team!”
More cheers and applause. If anyone in the audience had heard Barney’s shout from the kitchen, it was quickly forgotten. But then I heard, clear as day, one more outburst in Barney’s voice.
“Aunt Julia—what’s going on?”
I lost my breath for a moment. Wait a minute—Aunt Julia?
“And I’m here to tell you,” Frankie Ludlow was saying, but he had to wait for the applause to die down. “I’m here to tell you . . .”
I got unsteadily to my feet as Frankie finally got the first line of his speech out.
“I’m here to tell you why electing Carrie Kim to the town c
ouncil would be a huge mistake for Boylestown!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Wrong Man
THE HOOTING AND APPLAUSE DIED down immediately. A gasp went through the crowd, which immediately grew silent, wanting to hear exactly what Frankie Ludlow had to say.
“Carrie Kim’s sports complex would destroy the local environment! Do you know how many unique species live in Willow Woods, in the trees she’s planning to tear down to build a new football field? They’ll be gone forever, people, they’re not going to be able to live in a few scraggly trees planted on the current field!”
I knew I should run back to the kitchen and see what was going on, but I felt like my feet were stuck in concrete. Frankie’s face shone with passion, and I could tell the audience believed he truly meant every word he was saying. But who had arranged for him to do this? Julia had chosen all the speakers. Julia . . .
I turned around and spotted her then, slipping out of the kitchen with a look of pure pride and delight on her face. She seemed to catch Frankie’s eye and nodded to him, making a keep going gesture. Frankie turned back to the mic, adding details about what the turfing process would do to local groundwater and wildlife.
I glanced at Bess and George. Their faces were mirrors of my own shock. Julia, I mouthed to them.
“So as I’m sure you can understand by now,” Frankie went on, pounding the podium with his fist for emphasis, “while I support the high school sports program, I don’t think that athletics are more important than taking care of the planet. . . .”
The police started escorting Barney out of the kitchen at that point. He was handcuffed, and while it was clear they were trying to be discreet, several eyes in the audience turned to watch as Barney was dragged out, still protesting.
“This wasn’t me! I swear! I was just . . .”
Over the din of Frankie’s speech, the confused chatter in the ballroom, and Barney’s anguished shouts, I could suddenly make out another sound. Banging. Coming from the hallway where Julia had told me Carrie was “working on her speech” in the restroom.