My Deadly Valentine, Page 4

  “I’d like to start mine, too,” Bess said. “I saw some supplies this morning that would be absolutely perfect.” She turned to Nancy and asked, “Do you mind if we leave you on your own for the tour of the building?”

  “No problem,” Nancy said. “Go work on your valentines. I’ll meet you back at the Theta Pi house.”

  As the two girls disappeared into the bookstore, Nancy turned toward the pit. There, two televisions blared, one tuned to a soap opera, the other to a news program. The sofas and chairs had been claimed by students who were studying, talking, or napping between classes.

  Stepping down into the lounge, Nancy went toward a campus phone. She dialed the union office and spoke to Fitz.

  “I’ll be right up,” Fitz said. Five minutes later he appeared, a wide smile on his face. “I just spoke to Rosie,” he said. “She sounds a little down but was happy to see you guys. Too bad she didn’t see who hit her.”

  Nancy nodded. “That’s why I’m here. I’ve visited Emerson before, so I’m familiar with the general layout of this building. What I’d really like is a behind-the-scenes tour.”

  “An inside look . . .” Fitz said thoughtfully. “Well, I wouldn’t do this for just anybody. But since you’re a friend of the Theta Pis, I can’t say no.”

  “Thanks,” Nancy said, studying Fitz as they went down the ramp that cut through the center of the building.

  “The weirdest thing about the student union is that the main entrance is on the top floor,” Fitz explained. “The architects designed it that way since the building sort of leans into the hill.”

  On the floor below the main entrance, Fitz took Nancy through the laundromat, the student bank, and an old-fashioned candy store filled with glass jars of hard candies, chocolates, and licorice.

  “Some of the student organizations also have offices on this floor,” Fitz explained. He showed Nancy the suite used by Emerson’s newspaper staff and the large student government office.

  “When you and Rosie came into the building last night, did you notice anyone else around?” Nancy asked.

  “It was pretty empty,” Fitz said. He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Wait a second! When I passed by the snack bar on my way down to the office I think I saw Tamara Carlson and her boyfriend.”

  “Really?” Nancy was intrigued. “Did you speak with her?”

  “No way. She and Rosie can’t stand each other.”

  So Tamara was near the scene of the crime, Nancy thought. That’s why she’d apparently made up an alibi.

  When they descended the ramp to the ground floor, Nancy’s senses were on alert. If Rosie had been dragged to the garden behind the union, it was likely that her attacker had taken her this way.

  Fitz walked her through the large banquet room that was used for parties and dances. “This is where the Sweetheart Ball will be held on Saturday,” he explained.

  Two meeting rooms, each with a large conference table and more than a dozen chairs, and a kitchen were connected to the banquet hall. After walking through them, they returned to the bottom of the ramp.

  “When I came down here, I went into the night manager’s office, right there,” Fitz said, leading Nancy to a narrow corridor on the far side of the ramp. It was lined with four doors. At the end of the hall, Nancy noticed a metal door.

  Just then one of the doors along the hall opened, and a young woman peeked out and smiled. “Fitz! I was just going to page you on the intercom. You’ve got a call on line three.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he told Nancy, then followed the woman into the union office.

  Glad for the time alone, Nancy looked at the metal door. This could be the way Rosie’s attacker had left the building. It didn’t seem likely to Nancy that whoever it was would have dragged her all the way around outside.

  She spun around, trying to figure out which side of the building the garden backed up to. Following the hall to its end, she pushed open the metal door and peered inside.

  The wide, short corridor beyond had an unfinished look, with a cement floor and two battered doors leading off it. The first one connected to a loading dock large enough to accommodate two trucks. Although it was now deserted, Nancy guessed that it was used to bring in food and supplies.

  A second door led to a dark, windowless room where a huge, square furnace rumbled. Stepping inside, Nancy knew she’d hit pay dirt. The floor of the boiler room was smeared with a black soot thrown off by the furnace. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see the rectangular shape of a door on the opposite wall. She’d be willing to bet that door opened to the garden.

  Rosie must have been dragged through this room after the attack!

  On her right, Nancy noticed a workbench built into the cinder block wall. Careful not to touch anything, she looked over the wrenches and tools hanging on the wall and strewn on the counter-top. Among the clutter she found a roll of electrical tape. That alone was not surprising. But when she came to an operating manual for the furnace, she quickly leafed through it and gasped. Part of one page had been torn out! The note pinned to Rosie’s coat had been written on a scrap of paper torn from this booklet.

  Had Rosie been attacked by someone on the staff of the building?

  Just then the room seemed to shake as the furnace roared to life. Time to get out of here, Nancy thought. She needed to tell Dean Jarvis about her discoveries.

  Nancy was about to turn away from the workbench when something caught her eye. Glimmering in the light of the furnace was a large wrench. Nancy was able to make out two strands of brown hair stuck to its rounded head. Was this the weapon used on Rosie?

  Suddenly a beefy hand closed over her wrist, and Nancy let out a shriek. She spun around and found herself pinned to the worktable by a big man with smoldering eyes.

  Chapter

  Six

  STUNNED, NANCY TRIED to step aside, but the large man held her arms back in a tight grasp. “Not so fast!”

  Nancy’s heart pounded madly as she stared into the man’s grim, piercing eyes. The smell of sweat and soot threatened to overpower her as she tried to make out his face. The light from the furnace gave the angles of his jaw a hard look. Was this the man who had attacked Rosie?

  “What’re you doing in here?”

  Fighting to appear calm, Nancy answered, “I was just touring the building—with Fitz. I guess I went through the wrong door.”

  “This place is off-limits to students,” the man growled, releasing her arms at last.

  Just then the door opened behind him, and Fitz appeared, silhouetted in the light from the hallway. “Nancy? Max, what’s going on?”

  Max pointed at Nancy. “I came in to check the gauges on the furnace, and I found this girl wandering around. Keep your girlfriends out of my boiler room,” he ordered, then pushed past Fitz into the hallway.

  “Wait a second, Max! She’s not my girl—” But the man didn’t stop or slow down.

  “Who is he?” Nancy asked.

  “Max Dombrowski. He’s on the maintenance staff, and among other things he takes care of the boiler,” Fitz answered, turning back to Nancy. “He sure was in a rotten mood.”

  “Probably because I found some evidence that might implicate him as Rosie’s attacker,” Nancy said, glancing back at the workbench.

  “Max? No way!” Fitz shook his head.

  “Was he on duty last night?” she asked.

  “Yeah, though I don’t remember seeing him around,” Fitz said. “But what kind of evidence did you find?”

  Nancy showed him the tape and furnace manual, then pointed to the door. “Where does that exit lead?” she asked.

  “To the garden. But it’s locked from the outside,” Fitz explained. “Is that important?”

  “Absolutely,” Nancy said. “In fact, if you show me the nearest phone, I’ll call Dean Jarvis. He’ll probably want to check out this room.”

  Within minutes the dean arrived at the student union. He was joined by Sergean
t Weinberg and another officer from the local police, who brought a forensic kit to collect evidence.

  Fitz seemed surprised that a wrench and a furnace manual could stir up so much interest. After the investigators arrived, he was called out to the loading docks to oversee a delivery.

  Nancy watched as the officers put the wrench, tape, and booklet in plastic bags. “We’ll confirm that they match our other evidence and check them for prints,” Sergeant Weinberg explained. “But all in all, it looks like the victim was brought into this room.”

  With high-powered flashlights, they searched the soot-covered floor and discovered tracks leading out the door. After they photographed the drag marks, Nancy followed the officers through the steel door leading to the garden. She circled the stone fountain.

  The day was overcast and dry, but there was certainly more light than there had been at night.

  “When I visited Rosie at the hospital, she discovered that her Sweetheart locket was missing,” Nancy told the police. She described the locket, but after a half hour of searching the frozen grass, no one had come across the gold necklace.

  As the police continued to search the area, Nancy and the dean discussed the investigation.

  “Rosie didn’t see who attacked her,” Nancy told him, “but she thinks it was Tamara Carlson. And Fitz recalls seeing Tamara and her boyfriend in this building late last night.”

  “Tamara Carlson, the girl who’ll be Sweetheart now that Rosie’s been eliminated,” Dean Jarvis said thoughtfully.

  “Do you know her?” Nancy asked. “Do you think she’s capable of attacking Rosie?”

  Dean Jarvis sighed. “The rivalry between Rosie and Tamara was brought to my attention after an unfortunate incident last spring. They were involved in an altercation during Songfest.”

  After what Mindy had told her, Nancy wasn’t surprised. “Why did they argue?”

  Dean Jarvis shook his head as if it pained him to recall the incident. “Tamara Carlson was elected Songfest queen, and Rosie came in second. Traditionally, the girls in the queen’s court all wear matching dresses, but Rosie didn’t like the style Tamara chose. When Rosie showed up in a different dress, the girls got into a screaming match. Apparently, Tamara tore Rosie’s gown.”

  Nancy frowned.

  “I gave both students reprimands,” said the dean. “We can’t allow that kind of behavior.”

  “Rosie never mentioned it,” Nancy said.

  “I’m sure she’d rather forget it,” Dean Jarvis replied. “But when it comes to competing against each other, there’s no telling what those two are capable of.”

  “Then there’s Max Dombrowski,” Nancy said, telling the dean about her frightening encounter with the maintenance man. “It looks like Rosie was attacked with one of Max’s tools. And Fitz says that Max was on duty last night—though I don’t know what would have motivated him to harm a student.”

  Dean Jarvis frowned. “We have a large staff, and I’m afraid I don’t know Max very well. But I’ll check his employment file.”

  By the time the police had finished searching the area, it was nearly five o’clock. Dinner was at six, and Ned was picking Nancy up at seven-thirty for the Sweetheart Feature.

  How am I ever going to sit through a movie when this case is heating up? Nancy wondered as she hurried back to the Theta Pi house.

  • • •

  When Nancy opened the door of the house, she was shocked to find Casey Thompson squaring off with Fitz. It appeared that a fight was just about to break out.

  “Casey?” Nancy asked. “What’s going on?”

  Juanita and Kristin looked on from the living room, alarmed.

  “Casey was just leaving,” Fitz said, putting his hands on his hips so that his chest expanded.

  “I came over to return Rosie’s ten-speed,” Casey explained. “She left it at my dorm after we went on a bike trip. I didn’t realize I’d be greeted by a lynch mob.”

  “Why don’t you just go before somebody gets hurt?” Fitz threatened.

  “Easy, guys,” Nancy said, surprised at Fitz’s angry tone. She slipped her hand on Casey’s shoulder and guided him toward the door. “I visited Rosie today,” she told him quietly. “She seems to be doing okay.”

  “That’s a relief.” Casey gripped the doorknob. “Did she ask about me?”

  “She said that she doesn’t think you were the one who attacked her,” Nancy answered.

  “That’s some consolation,” Casey said, stepping out the door. “Now all I have to do is get the rest of the campus to believe I’m innocent.” With that, he made a quick exit.

  “He’s got some nerve,” Juanita said when he’d gone. “Coming around here after what he did to Rosie.”

  “Juanita, I think you’re overreacting,” Brook said, emerging from the den. Nancy could see a group of girls working on their valentines in front of the television set. Bess stood in the doorway, listening curiously.

  “There’s no proof that Casey Thompson attacked Rosie,” Nancy pointed out. She told them about the evidence the police had found in the boiler room. “Could Casey even gain access to that room?” Nancy asked Fitz.

  He shrugged. “You did,” he pointed out. “The boiler room is supposed to be locked, but sometimes Max is careless.”

  “Well, whether or not he attacked Rosie, Casey Thompson is no friend of mine,” Juanita said. “It’s a good thing Fitz was here to help him carry that bike down to the basement, I wouldn’t have gone down there alone with him.”

  “Let’s not forget about Tamara Carlson,” Kristin pointed out. “We just got a call from Rosie. She definitely won’t be out of the hospital before the weekend. So Tamara’s the new Sweetheart.”

  “And Fitz saw Tamara and her boyfriend in the student union last night,” Nancy said.

  “And it was just minutes before Rosie was attacked,” Fitz added tensely.

  A silence fell as everyone wondered who the attacker could be. “I don’t know who to blame anymore,” Kristin said.

  “Hey, girls,” called a voice from the kitchen. Trish appeared in the doorway, wearing a striped apron. “The spaghetti sauce is simmering, but we need help with the salad. Any volunteers?”

  “I’ll do it,” Nancy said, glad for the diversion.

  “Me, too,” said Bess.

  “Me, three!” Fitz chimed in.

  The other girls went back into the den, and Trish led the new recruits into the kitchen.

  “Hi, guys!” Mindy called. She was standing at a counter spooning melted butter on a long loaf of Italian bread sliced lengthwise. “I’m making garlic bread.”

  “I’m working on the sauce,” Trish said.

  Nancy peeked into a huge simmering pot of sauce as she tied on an apron.

  “Just point me to the lettuce,” Bess offered.

  “And I’ll just be the lovable kitchen pest,” Fitz joked, perching on the counter near Mindy and sticking a strand of dry linguine into his mouth.

  “So what else is new?” Mindy teased.

  “Be kind, or I won’t bid on your valentine, young lady,” Fitz told her.

  “Hah!” Mindy laughed. “I heard a rumor that you’re going to the ball with Kristin.”

  Fitz shrugged. “So sue me. Doesn’t mean I can’t drive up the bidding on a few other valentines. What’s yours going to be, Nancy?”

  “I haven’t thought about it much,” Nancy admitted. “I’ve been too busy tracking down Rosie’s attacker.”

  “When Nancy gets a case, she really throws herself into it,” Bess explained.

  “I saw that firsthand this afternoon,” Fitz said. “By the way, did the police come up with any new theories?”

  “They’re convinced that Rosie was dragged through the boiler room,” Nancy said as she tore lettuce. “And I found the weapon—a wrench.”

  “Wow,” Bess said, slicing a carrot into thin strips. “And what about the maintenance man you mentioned—Max? Do you think he attacked Rosie?”

&nbs
p; “I don’t know,” Nancy said.

  “A new suspect appears every time you turn around,” Mindy said. “Casey, Tamara—now Max.”

  “It’s hard to keep up, even for a gossip hound like you,” Fitz said lightly, punching Mindy on the arm.

  “Cut it out,” she said, sidestepping him and knocking over a box of pasta. A shower of spaghetti spilled out, bouncing onto the floor.

  Mindy winced. “Oops!”

  “Nice move,” Trish said. “You’ll have to get the broom. It’s in the basement.”

  “I’m up to my wrists in garlic butter,” Mindy said.

  “I’ll get it,” Nancy said, wiping her hands on her apron.

  The basement door was beside the refrigerator. Nancy opened it, stepped onto the landing, and turned toward the steps on the left. The stairs were dark. She ran her left hand along the wall, feeling for the light switch.

  Her hand closed around something—and suddenly her heart seemed to lurch out of her chest as an electric current shot up her arm!

  Chapter

  Seven

  NANCY REELED BACKWARD and fell onto the threshold of the door. Everything went black for a second as her heart hammered wildly. She covered her face with her hands, still feeling stunned by the shock.

  “What happened?” Bess called.

  “She’s hurt!” Fitz exclaimed as everyone rushed over and gathered around Nancy. They pulled her to her feet and helped her into one of the vinyl kitchen chairs.

  “Nan, you look pale as a ghost,” Bess said, rubbing Nancy’s back. “What happened?”

  “I got a shock,” Nancy told them, starting to feel better at last. “I was reaching for the light switch, but the wires are exposed.”

  “What?” Mindy’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

  “How could that be?” Trish asked.

  “I don’t get it,” Fitz said. “Casey and I were just down there with Rosie’s bike. We would have noticed it.”

  “Wait a second,” Mindy said, touching Fitz’s shoulder. “Do you think that Casey could have set it up—like a trap—while you weren’t looking?” Her dark eyes filled with horror at the thought.