Deciding that she couldn't wait, she slipped up the stairs to the second floor. Doors lined both sides of the hall, but which one was the bathroom? She didn't know.
Nancy chose a door at random. She knocked, and--receiving no answer--pushed it open.
"Oops!"
It was a fraternity brother's room, empty at the moment, luckily. She was about to shut the door and go when, in the light from the hall, she noticed a framed picture above the desk. It was of Mike and Ned! This wasn't Ned's room, she knew. She had seen that before, so it must be Mike's.
Curious, she moved toward the photo for a closer look. As she did, she accidentally kicked a cardboard carton. She looked down--and gasped. It was full of Styrofoam packing chips!
Rooting among them, Nancy also found scraps of cloth, thread, and the mangled half of a pillowcase--the same materials used to construct the effigy! She was stunned. There could only be one conclusion, she knew: Mike O'Shea--Emerson's best player--was the practical joker!
Suddenly, the door behind her creaked. Nancy whirled and stifled a scream. A tall, threatening figure was silhouetted in the doorway!
Chapter Four
"WHAT ARE YOU doing in here?" Ned demanded. He flicked the tight switch next to the door.
Nancy blinked. "Oh, it's you! Thank goodness . . . you startled me."
"Nancy? I said, what are you doing poking around in Mike's room?"
There was a coolness in his tone that puzzled her. Why was he being so hostile? It wasn't as if she'd been doing anything wrong!
"I came upstairs for the bathroom but walked in here by mistake," she explained. "But I'm glad I did. Look what I found!"
She nudged the carton toward him with her toe. Ned glanced at its contents and shrugged.
"So?"
"Don't you see? It's the same stuff that was used to make the dummy in the gym!" Quickly she filled him in on her examination of the effigy. "It means that Mike is behind all the practical jokes!"
"Not necessarily."
Nancy stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Come on, Ned, be serious . . . what else could it mean?"
"Well, maybe it's just a coincidence. Or maybe somebody dropped that box in here in order to frame him."
Nancy thought about that. At first she was embarrassed--she had jumped to a conclusion! But then she realized that she had been right after all.
"No, it couldn't be a frame-up," she reasoned. "A frame-up would be more obvious. Think about it . . . why dump the evidence in a place where only Mike is likely to find it?"
"Okay, I'll admit it sounds farfetched," Ned said. "But so what? It's not as farfetched as your theory!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I know Mike. He'd never do anything to hurt the team."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Of course I am! The Wildcats mean everything to him. He'd no more play practical jokes on us than . . . well, than he would shoot the ball into the other team's basket!"
A short silence followed. Ned had a point, Nancy knew. There was no good reason for Emerson's co-captain to undermine the team's morale, none that she could think of, anyway. On the contrary, he had every reason to work for the team's success! Was her theory a washout after all?
No, she decided, the evidence was right in front of them. Maybe she didn't know the motive yet, but she couldn't ignore the facts. Somehow she had to convince Ned that she might be right.
"Ned, maybe someone's paying Mike to play the practical jokes," she suggested.
Ned shook his head. "Give me a break. Even if Mike could be bribed, which I doubt, who would do something like that?"
"A rival team?"
"No way! Those pranks have been played before and during all our games."
"Okay, then maybe Mike's got his own reason . . . a secret one. Maybe it's even a subconscious desire to lose, or something."
"You're way off base," Ned declared. "Mike and I are friends. If he were loony-tunes, believe me, I'd know!"
Nancy was getting ticked off. "Ned, why are you being so stubborn? You've got solid evidence of Mike's guilt right at your feet!"
Ned crossed his arms. "You know as well as I do that evidence can be misleading. To phi the blame on someone you need more than a box of packing chips--you need a motive, too!"
"Okay, okay!"
Nancy began to pace back and forth. Usually she was calm and collected when working on a case, but now she was beginning to feel frustration. She didn't like it.
"All right, I guess we'll have to investigate some more," she said finally. "Here's where we'll start--"
"We?" Ned interrupted.
"Of course." She stopped pacing and glanced at him. "Ned, you're going to help me, aren't you?" she asked.
"Help you what? Dig up dirt on my friend? No, I'm not."
Nancy was stunned. "You've got to be kidding me! Come on, Ned, you're in a perfect position to help. You're inside the team! Anyway, you've never refused to help before."
"You've never suspected one of my friends before, either."
Her temples began to throb. Rubbing them, she muttered, "I can't believe what I'm hearing. Are you telling me that you don't want to put a stop to the practical joker?"
"Of course I do!" he growled angrily.
"Then help me!"
"Show me a suspect with a good motive and I will!"
"This box--"
"Forget the box! That's not a motive. That's just a clue!"
He was working himself into a rage. His dark eyes were blazing. His jaw was tight. Nancy had never seen him look at her that way before--not once!
"What's with you, anyway?" he said furiously. "Sometimes I think you care more about solving mysteries than you do about people."
"That's not fair!" she cried. "It's people that I'm trying to help . . . people like Coach Burnett and the members of your team."
"Yeah, well, it won't do any good to come down on a guy with no motive."
"Then what should I do? Trust him?"
"Sure."
"Forget it. He'll just pull more practical jokes."
Ned was disgusted. "C'mon. You're not even sure he's responsible."
"And you're not sure that he isn't!"
It was a stalemate. She couldn't see it Ned's way, and Ned wouldn't see it hers. What was she going to do?
First of all she would remain calm, she decided. Next she would try hard to see it from Ned's point of view. For a full minute she studied the toes of her boots, trying to understand what Ned saw that she did not. She failed. Every way she looked at it, her conclusion was still the same--the evidence pointed to Mike!
"I don't know. I can't believe we're arguing like this," she said finally.
Ned's voice was hollow. "Me either. How come you're so determined to nail Mike?"
"I'm not trying to nail him. All I'm saying is that we should investigate some more!"
"No." Ned shook his head sadly. "Mike's my buddy, and I'm going to stick by him. This time you're on your own."
"Ned, please! I need you on this case!"
"Like I said, you've got me . . . but not to throw dirt on my friend," he insisted.
Nancy's anger returned full force. She kicked the cardboard carton. "Ned, you're letting me down! Why can't you open your eyes? Why can't you use your head!"
"Logic isn't the only way to get at the truth," Ned said softly. "Sometimes you have to listen to your heart."
It was a long time before Nancy was able to think of a reply. When she did, it was too late. Ned was gone.
A short while later, Nancy, Bess, and George walked back to their dorm. It was bitterly cold and very quiet. Their feet crunched on the hard-packed snow. Their breath made frosty white clouds in the air.
Nancy tried to conceal her feelings, but her friends sensed that something was wrong. Soon she had told them the entire story, from her earlier fears about her and Ned to their argument in Mike's room.
For once the cousins had little to say.
"I sure hope you can patch things up," Bess said in a small voice.
"Thanks. Me, too," Nancy replied. "I just don't understand why he's being so stubborn. The evidence was right under his nose!"
George sighed. "I guess he's doing what he feels is right."
"I guess."
All the windows in the dorm were dark. When they reached the side entrance, Bess whipped out her key and dashed inside. George held the door open for Nancy.
"Aren't you coming in?"
"No, I'm going to stay outside for a while and look at the stars. I've got some things to sort out, you know?"
"I think I do. See you upstairs."
Letting out a long breath, Nancy stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket. What a mess! The idea of tackling this case without Ned--worse, without his support--made her feel awful. What should she do?
Maybe she should give up and go home, she reflected. She hated to let Coach Burnett down, but at the same time nothing was worth the misery she was going through. And anyway, it was just a bunch of practical jokes, wasn't it? Nothing serious.
Just then Bess burst out the door. Startled, Nancy stared at her in alarm.
"Nan," Bess gasped, "we've got to go back to River Heights right away!"
Chapter Five
"WHAT! WHY?"
Bess's face was pale. "Never mind why! Just warm up your car. We've got to get out of here as soon as possible!"
Nancy ran her fingers through her reddish gold hair. Great, she thought. Now, on top of everything else, Bess was freaking out! What could have made her so upset?
"Bess, calm down, okay? Try to tell me what happened."
"Oh, Nancy, it's awful. The room . . . our clothes . . . what if we hadn't gone to the party? What if we had been there!"
The room? A feeling of dread shot through Nancy. Brushing past her friend, she unlocked the entrance and raced up the stairs. She saw right away why Bess had freaked.
The room was a mess. The door had been jimmied, and their clothes were strewn everywhere. Desks and chairs were overturned. The bed coverings had been torn off. Nancy felt sick. Who could have done this? she wondered. A burglar? A vandal?
It was neither. Alerted by the smell of paint, she whirled around. There, spray painted on the room's large plate-glass window, was a bloodred warning: Go Home, Drew!
So! The practical joker was on to her!
Bess came in behind her. "See what I mean? Let's get out of here, Nancy."
"No way!" she declared. Her fists curled in anger. "You can split if you want to, but I'm going to stay as long as it takes."
"But our stuff . . . the room . . . ! As soon as we report this, the school is going to throw us out anyway, I just know it."
"I doubt that. The mess can be straightened up, and the paint will come off. They'll let us stay. By the way, where's George?"
"She went for a security guard," Bess said.
A minute later George returned with both the guard and the dorm advisor, a senior named Lynn. Lynn was horrified but assured Nancy that they could remain.
"Your boyfriend vouched for you girls when he arranged for the room. I know this isn't your fault. It could have happened to anyone."
That wasn't exactly true, Nancy knew, but she decided not to mention it. Instead, she zeroed in on the cleanup.
"Some turpentine would help that window. Is there any in the building?"
"Yes, in the basement," Lynn confirmed. "I'll get it."
When she was gone, the guard conducted a brief investigation. The moment he had enough information for his report, he stuffed his pen back into his shirt pocket.
"No permanent damage to school property, fortunately," he remarked. "Sorry about your clothes, though."
"Me, too. Any chance of having that lock fixed tonight?" Nancy asked.
"Yes. I'll phone the central maintenance office and have them send their night man right over," he offered.
"Thanks. Oh, one more thing. Any idea how the . . . uh . . . vandal got into the building?"
The guard scratched his head. "Well, the front door is guarded around the clock, so I guess he came in the side entrance, same as you."
"But I have a key!"
"So do lots of people. There are one hundred kids living in this dorm, miss. It's fairly common for them to copy their keys for their friends. Anybody could get one easily."
"I see. Thank you."
Rats! she thought. No help there. Why were clues so hard to come by on this case? Either the practical joker was very lucky, or he had more on the ball than she thought!
The next morning, Nancy and her friends ate breakfast in the student union. Bess still wanted to return to River Heights, but after an hour of heavy persuasion Nancy was able to convince her to stay.
"You're sure we're not in any danger?" Bess asked for the third time.
"I'm positive. Look, you have to understand how practical jokers think . . . they don't get their kicks from injuring people. They make their victims suffer in other ways."
"Oh, thanks. Now I feel a lot better!"
"Take it easy, will you?" George snapped. "Why can't you stop worrying for once?"
"Fine. I will. The next time someone wants to wreck our room I'll let them in and give them a hand, okay?"
"Don't be melodramatic."
"Well, what do you want me to do?"
"Relax!" George picked up her tray. "Come explore the campus with us! We might as well enjoy ourselves while we can, right?"
"I suppose."
Bundled against the cold, the three girls began a self-guided tour. Emerson's ivy-covered buildings looked lovely in the snow, but Nancy's mind was on the case. What she needed now was a plan, she knew. The practical joker was on the alert. In order to catch him, she would have to outwit him--but how?
There was another problem on her mind, too--Ned. She still believed that Mike O'Shea was the number-one suspect, but she could see now that she had pushed too hard the night before. Not only had she attacked Ned's teammate, she had attacked Ned's judgment, too! Somehow she would have to convince him that she still respected him, she decided.
As they entered the student bookstore, Nancy stopped at the bank of pay phones just inside the door.
"Go ahead," she told her friends. "I'll join you after I call Ned."
She dug a quarter from her purse, then held it near the coin slot as she thought about what to say. As she did, however, her attention was caught by a handsome, dark-haired boy hurrying to a nearby phone. What a hunk! she thought. Who was he calling? Some lucky girl, no doubt.
But he wasn't calling a girl. At least, it didn't sound that way.
"Hello, this is Captain Hook."
Captain Hook? What was this all about? Nancy wondered.
The boy continued: "What's the line for tomorrow? Yeah? Well, let me have a ten-timer. No . . . the other guys."
Stranger and stranger! Nancy knew it wasn't polite to eavesdrop, but she couldn't help herself--especially not when the conversation was this interesting!
"What do you mean I can't have it?" His face was turned away from her, but his tone was clearly annoyed. "C'mon, man!" A pause. "Look, Frank will cover for me, okay?"
That was it. With a hasty "Thanks," he hung up and rushed off.
Nancy was more puzzled than ever. What did all that mumbo-jumbo mean? Well, she didn't have time to figure it out. She had something more important to do: save her relationship with Ned!
Dropping the coin into the slot, she dialed his number. Their conversation was short. Ned was on his way to an economics class. They set up a date for that evening, however. They could see a movie in town, he suggested. Afterward, they could go to his favorite pizza joint.
"That sounds fine. Listen, Ned . . ." Nancy hesitated, toying with some loose change and a scrap of paper she'd found on the ledge under the phone. There was so much she wanted to say. Where should she begin?
Ned cut her off. "Save it, Nancy. I've got to run."
"Sure, 'bye."
Nancy's heart sank as she hung up the receiver. He sounded so cool! Would he ever forgive her for the way she had acted?
Nancy absentmindedly scooped the change into her purse. The scrap of paper fell in with it, and Nancy noticed vaguely that a phone number was written on it. Captain Hook must have dropped it. She didn't stop to think about it, though. Instead, she rushed worriedly from the booth.
That evening, Ned picked her up at eight. It was their worst date ever, Nancy decided later. The movie was terrible, and at the raucous pizza parlor they sat across from one another awkwardly, hardly talking, the only unhappy-looking couple in the entire place.
Nancy felt miserable. Ned hated her guts, she was sure of it. When he looked up from his third sausage-and-mushroom slice, she waited nervously for him to speak.
"So, where are Bess and George tonight?" he asked.
"George went to the sports complex to work out," Nancy explained. "Bess is with her."
A smile rugged at the corners of Ned's mouth. "Bess went to the gym voluntarily?"
"Uh-huh." Nancy smiled, too. "She said she didn't want to be alone in the room after the break-in last night, soooo . . ."
"Amazing. Maybe some good will come out of this case after all."
"If you think Bess will discover the joys of working out tonight, forget it. She only went because she was desperate."
Suddenly, Nancy couldn't stand the tension in the air for another second. Leaning on her elbows, she stared deep into his eyes.
"Ned, can we talk? I mean, really talk? I acted like a jerk last night, and I'm sorry. Please say you'll forgive me!"
Ned leaned back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face. "Of course I forgive you," he said. "I'm glad you see how wrong you were, too. Mike's my buddy, and--"
"Wait a minute! Hold on! I didn't say I was wrong. Not about Mike. What I said was, I acted dumb."
Ned cooled visibly. "Then you still suspect him of being the practical joker?"
"Of course. The stuff in that carton--"
"Nancy, I can't believe this!" Ned exploded. "Doesn't it matter to you that I've known Mike for two years? Don't you care that he's my friend and that I trust him?"