“Was this door locked yesterday when you got here?” Nancy asked.
“Of course it was.” The professor pulled out a small key ring, attached to his leather belt by a short chain. “My keys are always with me, you see,” he noted as he slipped a key into the lock and pushed open the door. “No one ‘borrowed’ them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
The professor ushered Nancy into his small, book-crammed office. He gestured toward a tall black steel cabinet next to his battered wooden desk. “The file cabinet was locked when I got here, too.”
“Did you notice whether the answer key was in the file yesterday morning?” Nancy inquired.
Tavakolian huffed slightly. “Well, no—I didn’t check inside the folder Wednesday morning. All I needed were the tests to hand out to the students. I took the completed tests home with me last night, and I didn’t return until this afternoon, when I came to get the answer sheet.”
“Were the office door and the file cabinet locked this afternoon when you got here?” Nancy was closely studying the surface of the file cabinet, looking for scratches that might indicate someone had jimmied the lock.
“Yes, definitely,” Tavakolian answered as he took out his key and unlocked the cabinet. “I kept the test folder in the bottom drawer.”
Nancy opened the deep bottom drawer of the cabinet and glanced over the folders crammed into it. “Aren’t you going to dust for fingerprints?” the professor inquired curiously.
Nancy hid her annoyance at his meddling. “I doubt that that would help us here,” she said politely. “A surface like this is probably covered with many people’s prints. Besides, we’re not looking for a criminal whose prints would be in a police file. Now, do you still have the original copy of the test?”
From the drawer, Tavakolian pulled out a ten-page document on plain white copy paper from a manila folder. Nancy held it up to the light to study the typeface. “I took my disk and printed the test out on the laser printer in the English department office,” the professor said. “It’s faster than my printer here.”
Nancy nodded, rapidly checking out his desktop computer setup. Then she scanned the test itself. “If someone cheated on the test, he or she would get a high score, right?” she asked.
“Well, you see, there are two sections of the test,” Tavakolian pointed out. “The first part is multiple-choice, with fifty questions—the answers are A’s, B’s, C’s, and D’s. Whoever stole the answer sheet would get a perfect score on that part. But the second part of the test wouldn’t be easy to cheat on.” He flipped the pages to show her. “It consists of five essay questions.”
“And the answer sheet didn’t list answers for essay questions,” Nancy concluded.
Tavakolian shrugged. “For each essay question, I did write down a few phrases, indicating topics that should be covered by the student. But when I grade such a test, I also give points for clear, intelligent thinking.”
“So we might be able to identify the cheater,” Nancy mused, “if a student gets a perfect score on the multiple-choice section and mentions the correct topics on the essay questions, but doesn’t really seem to understand them.”
“True,” said Tavakolian.
“Although the only clear proof of the theft would be to find the missing answer sheet in a student’s possession,” said Nancy. “But if you had the tests graded, we could zero in on the most likely cheaters.”
“I hadn’t planned to grade them at all,” Tavakolian said, “since the test has to be thrown out. But if you wish, I will grade it. I’ll do the multiple-choice section first.
“Of course,” he added fussily, “it will take me a number of days to correct the essay section. In any case, I’ll give you the names of any students who get a perfect score on the multiple choice.”
As Nancy jotted down her phone number at the Theta Pi house for the professor, she asked, “Does anybody else have a key to this office?”
“No. Oh, there’s the cleaning woman,” he remembered, “but she doesn’t have a key to the file cabinet. Besides, she barely speaks English. What use could she have for a literature exam?”
About as much use as Ned Nickerson would have, Nancy thought to herself. “I’d like to speak to her anyway,” Nancy told him.
“I think she starts work, down the hall, around now,” Tavakolian said. “I’ll see if I can find her.” He went out the door.
While he was gone, Nancy conducted a careful inspection of the office. First she searched through the other two drawers of the file cabinet. The professor seemed to have a well-organized filing system, she noticed. Each file had a neatly typed label and was in perfect alphabetical order.
Next she moved to the large double-sash window that overlooked Emerson’s central lawn. The glass rattled loosely in the wood frame, but the old brass lock fit tightly. No one had climbed up to the second floor and entered that way.
Stepping over to the office door, Nancy inspected the lock there. It was a cylinder lock, set into the wood. She recognized the brand name and knew it was a good, sound lock, almost impossible to pick. It didn’t seem as though anyone had broken into the office.
Just then the professor returned, leading a middle-aged woman with graying blond hair. Over her slacks she wore a flimsy mustard-colored smock. Her deep-set blue eyes reflected her fright.
Nancy offered her a seat, but the woman shook her head and stood beside the chair. As Nancy gently questioned her, she said her name was Sophie Maliszewski. She’d worked at Emerson for twelve years, ever since coming to the United States from Poland. Showing Nancy her large ring of keys, she said that she cleaned the professor’s office every weeknight, usually between seven-thirty and eight.
“The professor says something’s missing from his office—a piece of paper,” Nancy said.
“The professor have many piece of paper here,” Sophie joked weakly.
Nancy smiled. “We think someone may have stolen the answers to a test.”
“And if there was cheating going on, the students will have to take the test over again,” Tavakolian said.
Suddenly Sophie’s pleasant round face went absolutely white. “Oh, no!” she cried out, greatly agitated. She collapsed into the chair beside her, and her head fell forward. Nancy rushed to her side. Sophie was about to faint.
Chapter
Three
SOPHIE GAVE A WEAK PUSH to Nancy’s arm, indicating that she would be all right. Nancy stepped back and watched the woman closely, wondering why she had reacted so strongly. Two or three seconds went by, then Sophie lifted her head and stared at the wall in a daze.
“What did you say?” Nancy asked her gently.
Sophie shook her head. “I am sorry. I just—I feel sorry for the students, they work so hard, to take this test a second time . . .”
“Do you know something about the missing test answers?” she pressed.
Sophie shook her head with vigor. “No, I know nothing. I never see any paper.”
“I believe her,” the professor said quickly. “Sophie, you go on back to work. Thanks for talking to us.”
As soon as the woman was out of earshot, Nancy turned to the professor. “Professor, you were the one who wanted this incident checked out,” she reminded him. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t interfere with my work.”
Tavakolian reacted with surprise. He clearly expected all teenagers to be in awe of him. “I wouldn’t dream of interfering,” he said. “But don’t you think you ought to interrogate Ned Nickerson? He is our prime suspect, not this poor laborer.”
Nancy stifled a smile. “Yes, I agree. I’ll go interview Ned Nickerson right now.”
“Good,” the professor nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—I have a lot of tests to grade.”
After saying goodbye to the professor, Nancy walked back to the Omega Chi Epsilon house, hoping to find Ned. As she expected, he had gone back there and was waiting for her in the living room.
“Let’s go to the downstair
s study lounge,” Ned suggested as he took her arm. “No one’ll be there today, and we can talk.”
They passed through the living room into the lounge and sat down on a lumpy green sofa. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you, Drew,” Ned said, his dark eyes gazing into hers. “When you walked in the dean’s office, I felt frustrated, having to pretend I didn’t know you. All I wanted was to take you in my arms—like this.” He slid his arm around Nancy’s shoulders, drew her to him, and gave her a long kiss.
Nancy’s insides melted as she surrendered to the kiss. But halfway through it she surprised even herself by pulling away.
“Remember what the dean said,” she whispered softly as she drew away. “I can’t let our relationship influence my investigation.”
Ned brushed her comment aside. “I’m not worried—I know I didn’t take that answer sheet,” he murmured, lips brushing her cheek.
“So why don’t you tell me your side of the story?” she said.
Ned reluctantly straightened up and began his version of events. “Okay—Monday afternoon. The English department secretary, Ms. Belzer, called and asked me to go to Tavakolian’s office. He handed me the test to photocopy. I went down the hall to the English department’s photocopier.”
“You went straight there?” Nancy asked.
Ned nodded. “Yeah. But then, while I was at the machine I saw that one page of the test was missing. I went back to ask the professor where it was, but he wasn’t there.”
“Where was he?” Nancy asked.
“I don’t know.” Ned shrugged. “I figured he was coming right back, because his computer screen was still on. Then I noticed he’d left the manila folder he kept the test in right on his desk. I looked inside it for the missing page, but all I saw was the answer key and a computer disk.”
Nancy frowned. “So the answer sheet was there then,” she said. “What did you do next?”
“I figured the disk had the test on it, so I took it back to the English department office,” Ned continued. “Ms. Belzer let me boot it up on her computer. I printed out the missing page, then took the disk back to the professor’s office. He still wasn’t there, so I put the disk back in the file folder.”
“And was the answer sheet still there then?” Nancy checked.
Ned nodded. “Then I went back to the copier and made the copies. I took them to Tavakolian—he was back in his office by then. I handed him the stack of copies, which he then put in the bottom drawer of the cabinet. That’s when I left.”
“So Tavakolian doesn’t know that you used his disk with the test on it,” Nancy mused.
Ned looked nervous. “What difference would that make? The answer sheet is what’s missing.”
“True,” Nancy agreed. “But if the professor knew you’d borrowed his disk, he’d be even more convinced that you’re guilty. We can’t clear you until we find out where that answer sheet went.”
“And how do we do that?” Ned asked.
Nancy leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, frowning. “That’s the part I haven’t figured out yet,” she admitted.
An hour later, after Nancy and Ned had had a chance to chat and catch up, they decided it was time to get something to eat. As they went out the front door of the frat house, Paul DiToma came sauntering down the stairs behind them. “Hey, Ned! I see you found Nancy,” Paul called out.
“Yeah, thanks, Paul.” Ned turned, grinning.
Paul said to Nancy, “Going to meet Brook?”
Nancy looked confused. “Did she say she was expecting me?”
“Not that I know of,” Paul said, and Nancy noticed the slight blush on his face. “I was just asking.”
“Oh, so you know Brook?” Ned asked.
“I just met her today,” Paul explained, following them out the door. “It’s funny, even though we’re both English majors, we never got to know each other before. Does she, uh, have a boyfriend?”
“No, not right now,” Nancy said.
“Come on, Paul, go for it—ask her out,” Ned urged his friend. This time, Nancy saw the blush deepen to scarlet.
“Ned and I were heading for the snack bar—want to join us?” Nancy asked.
Paul considered for a moment. Digging a hand inside his pocket, he pulled out a couple of crumpled one-dollar bills and some loose change. “Better not tonight,” he said. “I don’t want to spend any more money until the weekend. Thanks, though—some other time.” He waved goodbye and set off in another direction.
Ned and Nancy went on to the student center, a large, old-fashioned stone building that had once been the home of the university president. “I like Paul,” Nancy said as they sat down with their burgers at the far end of the main room where tables were clustered. “He’s a refreshing change from all the jocks in your frat.”
Ned playfully punched Nancy’s arm. “Hey. I’m one of those jocks.”
“You know what I mean,” Nancy said with a smile. “Should I warn Brook about him?”
“No, Paul’s a decent guy,” Ned assured her. “He doesn’t date much. He’s kind of shy, around girls and guys. It would be great if he and Brook got something going.”
“What about the personal ad addressed to Paul that was in the Emersonian today?” Nancy asked. “Jerry and Rich were teasing him that it was from some girl.”
Ned shrugged. “Who knows? Hey, Jerry and Rich might even have put in the ad as a joke.”
“I’m not so sure. Maybe I should call the newspaper office tomorrow to find out who placed the ad,” Nancy mused.
“Nan, you’ve already got one mystery to solve—don’t go inventing new ones.”
“Oh, you know me—one mystery is never enough,” Nancy said good-naturedly.
Ned reached up under her red-blond hair and ran his fingers lightly along the nape of her neck. “I think I can find a way to get your mind off mysteries for the evening,” he said in a husky voice.
“Promise?” Nancy asked, her blue eyes shining.
“Promise,” Ned replied.
• • •
Before breakfast the next morning, Nancy met Ned on the Theta Pi lawn and they went jogging around the campus lake. “Out of shape, Drew?” Ned teased her as they pounded up the final slope.
“No way, Nickerson,” she retorted cheerfully. “Want to do another lap?”
Ned laughed and slowed to a walk. “Sure, I could handle it. But I have to stop by the library to sign up for a study carrel—a private cubicle in the book stacks. I want to make sure I get one near the political science books. Do you mind if we swing by there now?”
Nancy agreed, and they walked up the hill to the library, a new building with walls of shining reflective glass. After Ned filled out a carrel request form, the librarian gave him the number of his carrel. Ned led Nancy down into the underground book stacks where his carrel was situated.
The stacks were long, low-ceilinged, windowless rooms, with rows of bookshelves on each side of a center aisle. “I’ve never seen so many books in one place,” Nancy said, marveling.
“Some students are complaining that we need a new library wing already,” Ned told her. “The library was crowded practically from the day it was built. So they installed these sliding bookshelves to store more books in the limited space.”
He pointed to long lines of gray steel shelves on each side of the center aisle and perpendicular to it. Ned grasped a handle on one and cranked it. It moved slowly forward, shoving a stack of other shelves forward. A space opened between the shelf Ned was pushing and the one behind it. Each bookcase sat on wheels, which rolled along two steel tracks the length of the center aisle.
“If I wanted a book on this shelf, I could slip in and get it now,” he said, pulling out a book at random. “Of course, who’d want to read about Sumerian archaeology?”
Nancy laughed. “I’m sure somebody does, and that person is glad the library made room for these books.”
Leaving the library, Ned and Nancy returned to their houses
to go to their rooms to shower and dress. Reaching Brook’s room, Nancy found a message on the answering machine from Professor Tavakolian, asking her to call him. She dialed his number quickly.
“Well, I stayed up late last night grading the tests,” Tavakolian told her. “I’m only halfway through, but I’ve already found three perfect scores—more than usual.”
Nancy grabbed a scrap of paper. “Why don’t you give me the students’ names?” She jotted them down as the professor spelled them out: Carrie Yu, Gary Carlsen, and Steve Groff. Then Tavakolian rang off, after promising he’d call her later with any more names.
Looking up the three students in Brook’s new campus directory, Nancy phoned them. Introducing herself as Professor Tavakolian’s assistant, she set up appointments to interview the first two students at the professor’s office—Carrie Yu at eleven o’clock, Gary Carlsen at eleven-thirty.
But when she talked to Steve Groff, Nancy immediately sensed trouble. “Why do you need to interview me?” Groff asked. “All this orientation stuff is taking up too much time. I came here on a swimming scholarship. If Emerson wants me to swim, why don’t they let me get on with it? I need to spend all day training at the pool.”
“Then I’ll meet you at the pool in twenty minutes,” Nancy suggested quickly. “It should only take five or ten minutes. You’ll recognize me—I’ve got red-blond hair and I’ll be wearing a white T-shirt and dark blue running tights.” She hung up before Groff could object.
After a brief phone call to Ned to tell him she’d meet him for lunch, Nancy grabbed a raisin-bran muffin from the Theta Pi kitchen and sprinted over to the sports center, an enormous complex on the far side of campus. The pool was in a large room with one glass wall overlooking the football field. Nancy sat on the bleachers beside the empty pool, watching the locker-room door. Soon a tall, tanned guy with huge shoulders and chlorine-bleached short hair walked out in his trunks.
“Steve?” Nancy called out hopefully.
The guy looked up at her.
“Hi, I’m Nancy Drew,” she said, standing up. “I called you earlier.”