Moving Target

  Chapter

  One

  NOT FOR ME!” Nancy Drew held up her hand to halt Ned Nickerson, who was about to put another helping of pasta on her plate. “One more mouthful,” she continued, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously, “and you’ll have to roll me out of here.”

  “Can’t have that,” Ned replied, grinning. He looked across the table at Nancy’s friend, George Fayne. “George?”

  The dark-haired girl shook her head and groaned. “I think I’ve reached my limit, too,” she replied. “But ask the waiter if we can take the rest with us,” she added. “It’ll be a great carbo-load in the morning before we start off.”

  “Spaghetti for breakfast?” The disdain in Kendra Matthews’s voice was unmistakable, and she wrinkled her nose disapprovingly.

  “Not to worry,” said George cheerfully, deliberately ignoring the put-down as she peered into the large crockery bowl on the table. “I don’t think there’s enough for both of us.” She glanced over at Nancy. “Too bad Bess isn’t here,” she said. “She would have loved this dinner!” She paused. “Of course, she would have had to start a new diet tomorrow, too!”

  “You’re probably right,” Nancy agreed. Bess Marvin, George’s cousin, was usually along when Nancy and George went anywhere, but sports were not her strong suit, so she had decided to pass on the bike trip.

  Ned, a student at Emerson College, had invited Nancy and George to join a group of students for a three-day bike trip during Emerson’s fall weekend. The spaghetti dinner at a small, family-style Italian restaurant just off campus had been planned so the cyclists could meet one another before the ride.

  Besides Kendra Matthews, the girls had met CJ Springer, a tall, blond biology major whose studious appearance behind rimless glasses contrasted sharply with his muscular build. And then there was Erik Olson, who was leading the group and who had taken every opportunity during dinner to remind the rest of the group that he was Emerson’s top cyclist.

  “You’ll need all the help you can get if you want to keep up with me,” Erik said to George. She had told him that she was competing in the women’s division of the same thirty-kilometer race he had signed up for the following month.

  “I just finished a ride in Colorado,” he continued, before she had a chance to respond. “Uphill, high altitude. Not much oxygen up there. That’s where you separate the pros from the amateurs. You have to be physically fit.”

  “I thought this was a recreational ride, not a race,” said Nancy, attempting to head off a clash between George and Erik.

  “Every ride is a race,” Erik said. “And I’ve never been in better shape.” A slight smile that was more like a sneer crossed his face. He turned to George. “But unless I’m mistaken, you walked in here tonight favoring your left leg.”

  Even in the muted candlelight of the restaurant Nancy could see George’s face flush. “I twisted my knee last week,” she said defensively. “But it’ll be totally healed by next month.”

  “We’ll see,” said Erik.

  “Well, you two can race all you like,” said Kendra. “I signed up for this bike trip so I could get better acquainted with one CJ Springer.” She slipped her small, beautifully manicured hand over CJ’s big one and smiled up at him.

  Nancy noticed that several expensive rings flashed on her fingers. They went right along with the designer sports outfit she wore. Obviously Kendra Matthews was not hurting for money.

  CJ cleared his throat, and Nancy could sense his embarrassment. He seemed to be a shy person, not used to this kind of open attention.

  “I think a man with brawn and brains is a real prize,” Kendra cooed, seemingly unaware of CJ’s discomfort.

  Despite her dislike for Kendra’s boldness and insensitive approach, Nancy had to admit that her own motives weren’t so different from Kendra’s. She had signed up for the trip so she and Ned would have some time together. With her busy schedule and Ned in classes, they hadn’t been able to spend much time together lately.

  “It’s too bad the other girl who’s going couldn’t be here tonight,” Nancy said. “What’s her name? Jennifer?”

  Erik nodded. “Jennifer Bover. She works nights at Ed’s Diner, on the other side of town. I don’t think anybody really knows her.” He looked around at the other Emerson students, and there was a general shaking of heads. “All I know is that she’s a transfer student and she’s in my psych class. She just signed up for the trip yesterday.”

  “Well, we’ll meet Jennifer tomorrow,” said Ned, getting up. “Tonight we should probably get some sleep.”

  Once outside, they gathered on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant to recheck last minute details.

  “Rats!” said George. “I forgot my breakfast.”

  “I’ll get it,” Nancy said quickly. Even though George claimed that her knee had almost completely healed, Nancy was concerned about her friend walking any more than necessary. She darted back into the restaurant and returned a few moments later, carrying the carton of spaghetti.

  “See you all in the morning,” Erik said. “I’m going to jog around campus once before I hit the dorm.” He looked over at George. “Would you care to join me?” he asked.

  “Negative,” said George, scowling after him as he jogged off without waiting for an answer. “There goes Mr. Personality!” George said. “I wonder if they cover behavior modification in that psych class he’s taking.”

  CJ, who was standing next to George, grinned. “Take care of that knee,” he said quietly, leaning over so she could hear him. “Ice it tonight and sleep with it propped up. It might help.”

  George smiled back at him. “Thanks,” she said. “I will.”

  Kendra tapped her foot on the sidewalk, openly annoyed with the attention CJ was paying George. She reached for his arm and tossed her long black hair back over her shoulder with an impatient gesture. “I think it’s time to go,” she said to CJ.

  “Right!” He turned to the trio beside him. “Would you guys like a lift? I’m in the parking lot over there.”

  Nancy looked at George, once again thinking about her knee.

  “No, thanks,” George replied quickly. “We’re going to walk back across campus. See you tomorrow.”

  Nancy, George, and Ned crossed the street, heading toward Packard Hall, the Emerson dorm in which George and Nancy had been given a room.

  “You could have taken a ride,” Nancy said to George.

  George grinned. “If I’d accepted a ride, I might never have reached the dorm alive,” she quipped. “Talk about territorial rights. Kendra’s got him staked out and barb-wired.”

  Ned laughed. “That’s what it looks like, but it’s definitely a one-sided attraction. CJ and I have a couple of classes together, and we’ve gotten friendly.”

  “I liked him,” George said, in her usual forthright way. “But the two of them together seem like the world’s biggest mismatch.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Ned replied. “Kendra’s been pursuing him since the semester began. She even signed up for molecular biology just because he was in the class. That’s how she heard he was going on the bike trip. He’ll shake loose, but he’s a nice guy, and he’ll do it his way. He certainly doesn’t encourage her.” Ned slipped his arm around Nancy’s shoulders.

  The night was clear, and the air was crisp with the smell of autumn. Overhead, thousands of stars shimmered against the midnight blue sky. It was a perfect fall night in the Midwest, and it promised a perfect long weekend for nature lovers and cyclists.

  “What’s that building over there?” George asked, pointing toward a large brick structure with a dome on top.

  “That’s the science observatory,” Ned answered, “and the one coming up here on our left is the president’s house. T
hat’s the back of it we’re seeing. It faces the road over there, but the back is as pretty as the front.”

  “I heard on TV that Emerson’s president has gone to France,” Nancy said. “Something about an award? I’m trying to remember.”

  “Your memory’s doing fine,” said Ned. “He and his wife were invited to accept an award for Emerson’s student exchange program. It’s one of the best in the nation. They left yesterday.”

  The trio was parallel to the spacious back gardens of the three-story house, where the lawns sloped down to a deck and swimming pool, covered now for the off-season. Beyond the pool, Nancy could see a small, low, glassed-in building adjoining the back of the mansion. It looked like a hothouse.

  As often happened with them, Ned was reading her thoughts. “The president used to teach botany,” he explained. “He just couldn’t give it up when he got into administration. I understand that he grows all sorts of exotic plants in there—even orchids.” Ned gestured toward the darkened rear of the house, but Nancy was already staring in that direction.

  “Ned, I saw a light over there. Someone’s out on the patio.” She squinted for a better look and pointed. “See? By the French doors. He’s wearing a ski mask! It’s got to be a burglar.”

  With that, Nancy bolted across the lawn, up toward the building. But the intruder must have seen her coming, for he moved quickly around the far side of the house, out of view. Nancy ran full speed around the mansion. Ned, surprised by Nancy’s quick reaction, hesitated a moment, then broke into a run behind her, with George following.

  The masked person, dressed in dark pants and a dark turtleneck, was racing toward a motorcycle parked in the driveway.

  Nancy could feel her heart pounding as she ran across the front lawn. She was gaining on him. Only thirty feet separated them now.

  As agile and quick as a panther, the prowler jumped on the motorcycle and started it up.

  Nancy ran out into the driveway, still determined to catch him. But instead of heading for the street, he suddenly whirled the bike around and, revving the engine, aimed the motorcycle directly at her!

  Chapter

  Two

  NANCY LEAPT to the grass, barely getting out of the way in time. Furious, she raised her arm and hurled the carton of spaghetti, hitting the man on the motorcycle squarely on the side of his head. He lost his balance and almost tipped over. As Ned and George came into view, the motorcyclist regained his balance, made a U-turn in the driveway, and sped off, disappearing down the street.

  “Are you all right?” Ned asked, breathing hard as he ran to Nancy’s side. “He aimed that bike right for you!”

  “I know,” Nancy said grimly. “I clobbered the side of his head, but it didn’t stop him.”

  “What did you throw?” George asked, coming up behind them.

  Nancy turned to her friend. “You don’t want to know,” she said, attempting to lighten a scary situation.

  “That’s what I thought,” said George. “My breakfast.”

  “Let’s get to a phone,” Nancy said. “I’ve got to call the police. He was carrying a backpack, and my guess is that it’s filled with stuff from the president’s house.”

  “Packard Hall is the closest dorm. We can cut across here,” Ned said, pointing. “There’s a phone in the lobby.”

  Nancy ran on ahead and within minutes had alerted the Emersonville police to the burglary. By the time George and Ned reached the building, the alarm had gone out to cars in the area.

  “I’ll bet it’s the same guy who pulled the other robberies around town,” Ned told them as they sat in the lounge, which, typically for a dorm on a Friday night, was almost deserted. “He’s really clever. He pulls just one robbery a week—although come to think of it, if it’s the same guy, he pulled two robberies this week, one on Monday or Tuesday night that didn’t get reported until”—he hesitated—“Wednesday, I think, when the people came home. The guy only hits in the rich areas of town, and always when the owners are away. The papers are full of it. People are buying alarm systems like they’re pizzas. He only takes jewels or cash, and none of the jewels have shown up in local pawnshops. The police think he’s working with an out-of-town fence.”

  “The officer I talked to said they had two cars in the area. He thought they might have a chance of getting him this time,” Nancy said. “He said the other burglaries weren’t even discovered until the following day.”

  The phone in the lobby rang, and the student who answered it peered into the lounge.

  “Call for Nancy Drew,” she said.

  The call was brief. When Nancy came back into the large room, it was apparent from her expression that the news was good.

  “They’ve got him!” she said. “One of the cars picked him up two blocks from campus.” She gave Ned and George a wide grin. “He was easy to recognize. He was the only motorcycle rider in the area who was wearing cold spaghetti.”

  “Way to go, Nan!” George said, laughing.

  Ned laughed, too.

  Nancy turned to Ned. “I have to go down to headquarters,” she said.

  “I’ll drive you,” he offered. “My car’s close. I’ll cut through the back way to the parking lot and meet you out in front.”

  “Thanks,” Nancy said. “I’ll get George some ice for her knee and meet you in a few minutes.”

  George had sprawled out on one of the couches in the room and had her leg propped up. “You’re okay, Nancy Drew,” she said with mock seriousness. “I’m not sure I could walk from here to the kitchen. It was that after-dinner run that did it!”

  Nancy grinned at her and returned in a few minutes with a towel filled with ice cubes. “Some insurance for tomorrow’s ride,” she said, handing it to George.

  “Thanks,” said George. “I’ll wait here till you get back.” She motioned toward the TV set near the couch. “Maybe I’ll catch the sports roundup. Besides, I want to hear all the details—especially about my spaghetti.”

  • • •

  When Nancy and Ned reached the police station, they waited a long time in Lieutenant Easterling’s office, while the president’s sister identified some of the jewelry that had been taken. Finally Nancy was called in to give her statement.

  Lieutenant Easterling was a big man with a soft voice and a kind face. Nancy had worked with him before, and he greeted her like an old friend.

  “Are you going to be in town over the weekend, Nancy?” he asked her when she had finished giving her statement.

  “No, I’m going on a bike trip. I won’t be back till late Monday,” Nancy explained.

  “Well, we probably won’t need you again,” he said, although his voice sounded uncertain.

  “When I get back to the dorm, I can call you and let you know our itinerary,” she added just in case. “You can reach me by phone when we stop for the night.”

  “Fair enough,” Lieutenant Easterling said. “And, Nancy, thanks. This was a big break for our department. I’m glad you were around.”

  Nancy and Ned walked back out to his car. It was late, the evening was gone, and they’d hardly had a chance to say two words to each other.

  “How about a cup of coffee and a piece of pie?” Ned asked as they got into the car.

  “Coffee sounds great,” said Nancy. “Pie sounds impossible on top of that dinner.”

  “Not for me,” said Ned, putting the key into the ignition. “I’ve heard that Ed’s Diner makes the best pie in town. Let’s go. Maybe we’ll have a chance to meet Jennifer Bover before tomorrow.”

  Nancy looked at her watch. “Depending on when her shift ends, we could even give her a lift back to the dorm. Kendra said Jennifer was living in Packard.”

  Ned drove through the quiet, darkened streets away from the campus toward the highway. “I hear that Ed’s Diner is popular with truckers,” he said, as they left the residential area. “A lot of them swing off the freeway so they can eat there.”

  “Then the food must be good,” Nancy said. r />
  Once they were on the highway, it was only a short drive to the diner. Nancy pointed up ahead at a flashing neon sign. “There it is.”

  Ned pulled into a parking space in front of Ed’s Diner, and the couple went inside. The place was bigger than it appeared from the outside, and business was brisk, even at that late hour. The worn padded booths, taped in places to hide the cracks in the vinyl coverings, clearly announced that this was an eating place that had been around for a long time.

  Nancy slipped into an empty booth near the cash register, and Ned seated himself opposite her.

  “I wonder which one is Jennifer,” Nancy said, looking around at the three waitresses who were hustling to fill orders.

  The cashier, who was also doing hostess duties, finally appeared at their table with two coffee mugs in one hand and a steaming pot of coffee in the other.

  “Sorry you had to wait,” she said. “We’re shorthanded tonight, and the place has been cracklin’ like a house afire! Coffee?” She was a short woman, about twenty pounds overweight, and had sparkling gray eyes that were surrounded by permanent laugh wrinkles. She looked like somebody’s grandmother.

  Nancy nodded. “Please,” she said.

  “I want some pie, too,” Ned said. “Do you have apple?”

  “Sure do. Best apple pie in town.”

  “With ice cream,” Ned added. “And can you tell us which one of the waitresses is Jennifer Bover?”

  The woman’s friendly expression suddenly disappeared. “Jennifer Bover?” she repeated, her voice taking on a sarcastic ring. “Miss Jennifer decided to call in sick twenty minutes before her shift started. She knew that Helen was on vacation. And she knew that the night manager was off. And she knows what Friday night is like around here. But does she care about the rest of us? No! Then on top of it, yesterday, she asked for the weekend off to go on some kind of biking trip.”

  She glanced from Nancy to Ned, who were both looking puzzled at the outburst, and forced a small smile. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I shouldn’t mouth off like that. Are you friends of Jennifer’s?” She paused for a split second and then answered her own question. “No, you can’t be friends, or you wouldn’t have asked which waitress she was. . . . I’ll get your pie.”