Hot Tracks, Page 3

  “This is where the desk clerk sent us,” Nancy said, glancing around as they stepped inside.

  The room was divided into two cubicles. Two desks piled with papers were jammed into the cubicle closest to the door. The other cubicle had a desk with a computer and printer and a rubber plant with three dusty leaves.

  “Can I help you girls?” a man’s voice said from the hall behind Nancy and Bess.

  Nancy whirled around to see a paunchy, middle-aged guy in a rumpled tweed sports jacket, holding a jelly doughnut.

  “Uh, yes,” Nancy said. She introduced herself and Bess, then asked, “Is this auto theft?”

  The man waved his doughnut around the room’s two cubicles. “This is it.” He walked past the girls, taking a bite of the doughnut as he passed. “Now, what can I do for you?” he asked, sitting at one of the two desks in the room’s outer cubicle. “I’m Detective Stan Powderly.”

  “My Camaro was stolen last night,” Bess began.

  “Camaro, Camaro . . .” Detective Powderly muttered. Setting his doughnut down, he riffled through the papers on his desk.

  Nancy turned as a younger man wearing cowboy boots and jeans strode into the room, a worn leather jacket draped over one shoulder. His dark hair was trimmed short around his ears but grew long in the back.

  “Hey, Hawk, you know anything about a Camaro?” Detective Powderly asked the newcomer.

  The younger guy introduced himself to the girls as Detective B. D. Hawkins. He took a folder from the second desk and opened it. “Right here. Jackson took the report,” he said in response to Detective Powderly’s question. He turned to Nancy with penetrating brown eyes. “Are you Ms. Marvin?”

  Nancy pointed at Bess. “No, it was her car.”

  B.D. chuckled as he skimmed the report. “Not for long, I see,” he said. “This must be the shortest ownership on record.”

  Nancy was amazed at his attitude. He wasn’t being very sympathetic to Bess’s predicament.

  “Don’t mind Detective Hawkins’s sense of humor,” the older detective said quickly. “He and I are only on temporary assignment in auto theft. Just since this ring of car thieves has been operating. Usually we work in homicide. Chasing cars seems tame compared to murder.”

  Detective Hawkins smiled apologetically at Bess. “Why don’t you tell us what’s on your mind.”

  Nancy looked up as a small, well-built man strode briskly into the room. He had jet black hair, and his dark eyes seemed to snap at the other two men. Powderly wiped sugar off his mouth, and Hawkins slid off his perch on the desk to stand straight.

  “Good morning, Stan, B.D.” With a frown, the newly arrived man plucked the folder from Detective Hawkins’s hands and flipped through it. “Is this Jackson’s report?”

  “Right,” Hawkins said. “This is Bess Marvin and Nancy Drew. Ms. Marvin is the owner of the car.”

  The dark-haired man nodded at the girls. “I’m Raul Quinones, the detective in charge of auto theft. Ms. Marvin, why don’t you go over the report with Detective Powderly to see if there’s anything you want to add.”

  Dropping the folder on the desk, he walked past them and into the cubicle with the computer.

  Nancy followed him. “May I speak to you?”

  “Go right ahead.” With a nod, Detective Quinones began to leaf through a stack of papers.

  “After the car was stolen, we drove around town looking for it. We think we spotted it,” Nancy began.

  “Hmmm,” Raul Quinones muttered. He sat down and turned on his computer.

  Nancy wondered if he was even listening. Frustrated, she put her hands on the desk and leaned over the top of the computer. “We followed the Camaro until it disappeared down a dead-end street. I think the driver drove it right into a warehouse.”

  Raul Quinones raised his head sharply to her. “A warehouse? You’re sure?”

  “Detective Quinones, I’m an experienced detective. I would have noticed if there was any other way out.”

  “Detective, huh.” Quinones seemed to think about it for a second. Then he got up and peered around the partition into the other cubicle. “Stan, B.D. Get in here,” he ordered. “Ms. Marvin, you’d better join us, too.”

  After everyone had squeezed into Quinones’s office, Nancy and Bess told the detectives in detail about chasing the yellow Camaro. Nancy noticed that Quinones’s face was crimson with anger by the time they finished.

  “So, my own officers couldn’t track these thefts to a warehouse area, but two teenagers could,” he said in a tight voice. “Maybe I should’ve hired them.” His dark eyes bored into Hawkins, then Powderly.

  “All right. We’ll check it out,” Detective Hawkins grumbled. “But it sounds to me as if that guy led them on a wild-goose chase.”

  “I don’t think so,” Nancy said firmly.

  “Come on, Hawk, lighten up,” Stan Powderly said, clapping his partner on the shoulder. “These girls just might help us get somewhere.”

  With a deep sigh, Raul Quinones rubbed his temples. “Stan’s right, B.D.,” he said. “At this point we need to check out every lead.”

  “You’re the boss,” Hawkins said, folding his arms over his chest. Nancy could tell he wasn’t convinced.

  Detective Powderly turned to Nancy. “Sorry if we seem doubtful, but all we’ve come up with so far is dead ends. A dozen cars have been stolen in River Heights in the last month, and they’ve all disappeared without a trace.”

  “Well, if the chop shop is in one of those warehouses Nancy and I saw, this could be the tip you’ve been waiting for,” Bess said brightly.

  Hawkins glared at Bess. “I’ve got to finish the Jenkins report,” he said gruffly. “Stan, you’ll have to cruise past those warehouses, okay?”

  “Cruise past?” Bess echoed, looking from Hawkins to Powderly in disbelief. “Aren’t you going to charge into the warehouses and arrest the thieves?”

  The younger detective shook his head. “We can’t. You don’t know positively that the car went into a warehouse. Besides, we’d need a search warrant even to look around,” he explained. “I think you’ve been watching too much TV, Ms. Marvin.”

  “But what about my car?” Bess insisted.

  “Detective Hawkins is right,” Raul Quinones told Bess and Nancy. “We can’t do anything unless you know for sure that the car the kid was driving was yours, which you don’t, and exactly which warehouse he went into, which you don’t.”

  Nancy put her hand on Bess’s arm. “They’re right,” she said.

  Planting her hands on her hips, Bess glared angrily at the three detectives and Nancy. “Well, since you aren’t going to do anything about it, I will!” With that, she marched out the door.

  Nancy started after Bess, but Detective Hawkins caught her arm. “Don’t you two ladies go getting into trouble,” he warned. Then he stepped around Nancy and went to his desk in the outer cubicle. Stan Powderly followed him.

  “B.D.’s right, Ms. Drew,” Raul Quinones added. “A teenage private eye used to purse snatchings and missing old ladies is no match for car thieves.”

  Nancy bristled. Purse snatchings! This guy had some nerve. “I’m not promising I won’t help my friend, Detective, since we discovered more in one night than you did in the past month,” she said hotly.

  For a long moment Nancy and Raul Quinones silently faced each other.

  “I realize we don’t have solid proof that the car drove into one of the warehouses,” she said at last. “Let’s hope that Detective Powderly finds something out.” Offering her hand, she added, “Nice meeting you, Detective.”

  “Likewise,” he replied. As they shook, he fixed her with a penetrating gaze. “And, Ms. Drew,” he added as she left, “don’t do anything stupid.”

  When Nancy emerged from the police station, Bess was waiting in the Mustang, which was parked next to the curb out front. “We’re going back to search those warehouses,” Bess said determinedly.

  “My idea exactly,” Nancy agreed, cli
mbing into the driver’s seat.

  “So don’t argue with me,” Bess continued, “or try to change my . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she stared at Nancy in surprise. “Really?”

  Nancy nodded. “The police are right. They need probable cause before they can get a search warrant. If we’re careful, maybe we can find the evidence they need.”

  “All right!” Bess exclaimed, grinning. “We can pretend we’re inspectors or looking for work or—” She broke off with a gasp. “Oh, no! I totally forgot. I’m supposed to meet Dirk for lunch.”

  “Ohhh. Big decision,” Nancy teased. “Will she choose the guy or the car?”

  Bess furrowed her brow, then quickly snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. I’ll invite Dirk to come along. Then I can have both. Let me just run back into the station and call him.”

  While Nancy waited, she rolled down the window and breathed in deeply. It was a beautiful May morning, sunny, yet not hot. She checked her watch, then glanced out the window.

  She hoped Bess wouldn’t take long. On the other hand, she wanted to give Detective Powderly a chance to check out the warehouse area and leave before they got there. Even though he’d been friendly and helpful, Nancy didn’t think he’d approve of their snooping around.

  Nancy looked up as the front door to the police station opened, but the person coming out wasn’t Bess. Nancy recognized B. D. Hawkins’s tall, slim build and cowboy boots. He strode around to the employees’ parking lot at the side of the station and got into a dark blue sedan. When he pulled out of the lot and drove past Nancy, she could see there was a dent in his right front fender.

  He must have finished the Jenkins report early, Nancy thought. Maybe he was going to join Detective Powderly in the warehouse district.

  The front doors to the police station opened again, and this time Bess did come running out. “Dirk said he’d love to come,” she told Nancy. “In fact he said something about always wanting to nab a car thief.”

  • • •

  “So, what’s the plan?” Dirk asked from the back seat of Nancy’s Mustang. “We climb up a fire escape to check in windows?”

  Nancy and Bess had just picked him up at his family’s house, and they were heading for the industrial area of town.

  “Nothing quite that dramatic, I’m afraid,” Nancy told Dirk, laughing.

  “What is our plan?” Bess asked, looking expectantly at Nancy.

  “Actually, I haven’t thought of one,” Nancy admitted. “First, let’s just see what that dead-end street is like in daylight.”

  A few minutes later Bess pointed out her window. “There’s the sign for Pacific Trucking Company,” she said. “Take the next right, Nan.”

  Nancy turned into the dead-end street, then pulled over to the curb and turned off the ignition. She, Bess, and Dirk peered out the front windshield.

  It was definitely the street they’d been down the night before, but now it was busy with trucks loading and unloading. The ramps were dotted with men and women stacking dollies with boxes, writing on clipboards, and talking.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Dirk said. “We can go in and inquire about shipping my race car to California.”

  “You’re going to California?” Bess asked with dismay.

  Dirk laughed. “No way. This is just to help out the investigation,” he told Bess.

  “It’s a great idea, Dirk,” Nancy said. She pointed to a building on the left, a two-story warehouse with double garage doors. The sign over the doors said Ace Hauling.

  Grinning at Bess and Nancy, Dirk said, “Well, let’s find out what they haul.”

  Nancy pulled the Mustang back into the street to park by the loading dock of Ace. As she did, a huge car carrier pulled away from another loading dock farther down the street. It filled most of the road.

  “Can that thing get past us?” Bess asked nervously.

  “I think so,” Nancy replied, steering the Mustang as close to the right curb as she could.

  The carrier accelerated and came clanking toward them. Nancy honked the horn to warn the huge vehicle away. Instead, it suddenly swerved over onto Nancy’s side of the road. Nancy couldn’t pull out of its path.

  As the carrier continued to bear down on them, Bess grabbed for Nancy’s arm. “That truck’s headed straight for us!” she screamed. “We’re going to get run over!”

  Chapter

  Five

  NANCY’S HEART leapt into her throat. The carrier was barreling toward them so fast, it would squash the Mustang flat as a pancake! Couldn’t the driver see them? She glanced around frantically. Just ahead there was a ramp up to a building on the right, but Nancy didn’t know if she could get there before the carrier blocked it.

  “Hold on!” she yelled. She pushed the gas pedal to the floor, and the Mustang shot forward.

  Bess screamed in the seat beside Nancy as the Mustang and the carrier flew toward each other. Just when a crash seemed inevitable, Nancy cranked the steering wheel as hard as she could to the right. The Mustang flew up over the curb and bounced onto a paved ledge that led up the ramp.

  “Look out!” Dirk called, bracing himself.

  Nancy stomped on the brakes, but not hard enough. The car zoomed up the ramp and plowed into a stack of boxes, scattering them everywhere before screeching to a halt.

  Nancy whipped her head around in time to see the carrier rumble past. She caught a glimpse of the driver. He was leaning out the window watching them, a nasty grin on his craggy face. Obviously he had seen them. Black hair stuck out from beneath his baseball cap. Before Nancy could read the license plate number, the carrier had turned the corner and was out of sight.

  “Are you guys all right?” she asked Bess and Dirk.

  Surprise showed in Dirk’s green eyes, but he quickly recovered his composure. “Sure,” he replied. “Great driving, Nancy. Ever think about racing?”

  Beside Nancy, Bess slowly let out the breath she must have been holding the whole time. “I’m okay, too. If I can get my heart to stop pounding like a drum, that is.”

  Nancy jumped as someone rapped on her windshield. A man’s face was pressed close to the glass. He had scraggly blond hair and was unshaven.

  As he bent down to reach her window, he asked, “Are you all right?” The man was over six feet tall and burly, with arm muscles that bulged out of his T-shirt sleeves. There was an unreadable expression in his eyes.

  Nancy nodded. “Fine. I’m not so sure about my car, though. That was quite a jolt.”

  “Well, you better back it up and get it out of here. We’ve got work to finish up,” the guy said gruffly. Then he stepped away.

  Nancy didn’t know if he was threatening her or simply being brusque, but she didn’t want to find out. She was about to do as the man asked when Dirk leaned forward and called out her window, “Not until I check the car.” In a lower voice, he added, “You don’t want to drive off if something’s wrong.”

  “We might not have any choice,” Bess said nervously. Several other guys had appeared on the loading dock. “Let’s get out of here, Nan.”

  “Dirk’s right. It could be dangerous to drive,” Nancy told Bess. Turning off the ignition, she got out of the car, Dirk right behind her.

  “Sorry about the boxes,” Nancy said to the men on the loading dock, gesturing toward the cardboard cubes that were scattered everywhere.

  The blond man watched Nancy with steely gray eyes. “It’s a good thing for you they were empty.”

  “You knocked your front end out of alignment,” Dirk called from the right side of the car, where he was kneeling.

  Going over to him, Nancy saw that the right front tire was scuffed and the rim of the wheel was bent. “You can still drive it, but get it to your mechanic as soon as possible,” Dirk said, straightening up.

  “Thanks for checking,” Nancy told him. The burly blond man was right behind them, his arms crossed over his chest. The other men were already restacking the cardboard boxes.

  Nancy t
ried to ignore his intimidating stare. “Did you happen to notice that carrier’s license plate number?” she asked him.

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Then how about the company that owns the carrier? Is the driver someone you know?” Nancy persisted.

  “Don’t know that, either.” The blond man turned and began helping the others stack boxes. “But I know one thing,” he tossed over his shoulder. “If I were you I’d get out of here. This isn’t the kind of place young folks should be hanging around.” As if to emphasize his words, he took a knife from his pocket, plunged it into one of the boxes, and ripped it in two.

  Dirk took Nancy’s elbow and firmly propelled her to the driver’s side of the Mustang. “Uh, thanks again,” Nancy called while Dirk climbed into the back seat. She then slid into the front.

  “Hurry up,” Bess whispered, nervously peering out the window at the men on the loading dock.

  Nancy started the car, but looked at the building in front of them carefully before pulling away. “There’s no sign on this warehouse. I wonder who owns it. I hate leaving without finding out anything.”

  “Oh, we found out plenty,” Bess said as Nancy backed down the ramp. “Like not to come here during the day.”

  “I’m pretty sure that that car carrier’s trying to run us down was no accident,” Nancy said, steering her Mustang onto the main road.

  “What are you talking about?” Dirk asked.

  Nancy looked at him in the rearview mirror. “That driver could have stopped. He had to have seen us. And those guys on the loading dock sure acted as if they were hiding something.” She tapped the steering wheel. “Which proves there’s a chop shop somewhere on this street. Maybe right where we crashed, or in the building where the carrier was parked.”

  “I don’t know,” Dirk said, shaking his head. “You’d think the thieves would have brains enough to play it cool. I mean, trying to run us over was like waving a sign that said, Chop Shop in Here.”

  Bess laughed. “You’re right. Hey, are you guys hungry? I was so nervous back there, I must have burned off a zillion calories. Let’s eat.”