The Clues Challenge

  “Good.” Ned frowned, stomping the snow under his

  boots. “'Cause she's got some explaining to do.”

  “What's going on?” asked Hanna, a girl with freckles

  and a halo of reddish brown curls around her face. She

  glanced curiously at the Omega team as they circled

  Joy at the foot of the legendary oak.

  “I found this in your backpack, Joy,” Nancy began.

  She opened the container and poured a handful of

  chalky tablets into her palm.

  Joy stared blankly at the tablets, her pale brows knit

  together. “Pills?” she said. “But I don't—”

  “It's the same medicine someone used to spike our

  dessert at the Eatery,” C.J. cut in. “Don't try to pretend

  you don't recognize them. They're obviously yours,

  Joy.”

  Joy's eyes flickered uncertainly. “I've never . . .” Her

  voice trailed off as Randy snapped a photograph of her.

  “Hey!” she said sharply. “I don't like being set up—

  especially in front of the press!”

  She grabbed the bottle of pills and shook them in

  front of Nancy's face. “You know these aren't mine.

  Why are you setting me up?”

  Whoa, thought Nancy. Joy was hardly acting like a

  person who'd been caught red-handed.

  “You're going to be in serious trouble when we show

  this to Mr. Lorenzo,” George pointed out.

  “And the police,” Nancy added.

  “But I didn't do anything!” Joy insisted.

  “Are you saying you're not the person Mr. Lorenzo

  saw sneaking around the woods in my hat?” she asked,

  turning back to Joy. “That you weren't up on the roof

  on the administration building when that icicle was

  knocked off?”

  “And what about the other night, when we saw you

  at the bell tower,” George added. “You were definitely

  up to something there.”

  Joy bit her lip. She glanced back at her teammates.

  All four girls watched her uncertainly.

  “All right. All right,” Joy said at last, letting out her

  breath in a sigh of frustration. “I have been up to

  something. But it's not what you think. It doesn't have

  anything to do with the Clues Challenge!”

  Nancy couldn't believe how defiant Joy was. “We're

  listening,” Nancy said.

  “There's a chemistry midterm coming up,” Joy

  began. “I promised to help someone in my class study.

  That's who I was meeting after the pre-Challenge

  dinner. I was going to lend her my study notes.”

  “Outside the bell tower, in the freezing cold?”

  George asked doubtfully. “Why did your friend run

  away like she was harboring top-secret classified in-

  formation? Getting class notes is no big deal.”

  “It is to my friend,” Joy insisted. “She's used to being

  at the top of her class. I guess she figured her

  reputation as a brainiac would be wrecked if people

  knew she'd been having trouble.”

  Nancy searched her mind, trying to fit Joy's expla-

  nation to all that had happened. There were still too

  many unanswered questions. “What about your glove?”

  Nancy asked.

  “The one I found on the roof of the administration

  building,” Ned reminded Joy. “Along with that file. Are

  you trying to say you didn't use the file to sabotage

  George's skis?”

  Joy shook her head forcefully “I didn't! I was never

  on that roof, I never touched that screwdriver, and I

  don't know about any pills,” she insisted. Planting her

  hands on her hips, she fixed Nancy with accusing eyes.

  “Someone set me up!”

  She seemed so sincerely angry that Nancy found

  herself believing Joy. “What about my yellow Omega

  team hat? I know you took it,” Nancy said.

  For the first time Joy's defiant glare faded to un-

  certainty. “That was me,” she admitted. “Since you

  guys wrecked my first chance to give my friend the

  chemistry notes, I had to make another rendezvous. I

  decided to meet her during the party, when everyone

  from the Clues Challenge would be at the Attic.”

  “That way no one would see you outside and think

  you were searching for clues,” Grant said.

  “Exactly,” Joy said, nodding. “I didn't plan to take;

  your hat, Nancy. But as I was on my way out of the

  Attic, I saw it sticking out of your jacket pocket. . . .”

  She took a deep breath and let it out in a cloudy

  stream. “I was really mad at you guys.”

  “Why?” C.J. asked.

  “You kept accusing me of things I didn't do! I was

  sure you were trying to make me look bad, so I decided

  to give you a taste of your own medicine. I took the

  yellow Omega hat for extra insurance. That way if

  anyone happened to see me by the boathouse . . .”

  “We would get the blame instead of you,” Nancy

  finished.

  Joy nodded. “Look, I'm sorry you almost got dis-

  qualified,” she said. “But I'm not the one who's been

  sabotaging you guys. And I'm not about to waste time

  on this stuff now.” Turning to her teammates, she held

  up the clue she'd brought down from the top of the oak

  tree. “Let's go, Deltas!”

  Joy and her teammates waded through the snow to

  their skis, put them on, and skied back the way they

  had come.

  “What are we waiting for?” C.J. asked, jumping for

  his own skis. “Let's finish going over the evidence after

  we win the Clues Challenge!”

  The Omega team stayed close on the Deltas' trail as

  they skied back toward Clues Challenge headquarters.

  Nancy let the thrill of the race take over her thoughts

  about the sabotage. She didn't think about the case

  again until they reached the Sports Complex.

  Everyone headed for the glassed-in atrium—except

  Randy. He held back, hoisting his skis and poles onto

  his shoulder. “I'll catch up with you later, C.J.,” he said.

  “I've got some business to take care of.”

  There was a determined note in his voice that

  caught Nancy's attention. Randy looked long and hard

  at the atrium, where Mr. Lorenzo sat.

  “Did you see the way he looked at Mr. Lorenzo?”

  Nancy whispered to George and Ned as Randy started

  toward his Jeep. “You guys brainstorm the clue without

  me,” she said. “I want to find out what Randy is up to.”

  Ned nodded, taking her skis and poles. “We'll be at

  the Student Center,” he told her.

  George stuck her skis into the snow next to Ned and

  hustled to catch up with Nancy. “Well, you didn't think

  I'd let you go by yourself, did you?”

  The two girls ran inside the atrium to pull off their

  ski boots and grab their own shoes. By the time they

  got into Nancy's Mustang, Randy was just turning his

  Jeep onto the main road of the campus. Nancy fol-

  lowed at a distance.

  “He's leaving campus,” George said.

  Up ahead, Randy's Jeep turned right onto Main

  Street. He drove p
ast the Eatery, then turned left just

  past SportsMania and parked on a side street. Nancy

  pulled over to the curb a few cars back, and she and

  George watched through the windshield.

  Randy got out of his Jeep and jogged across the

  street. He looked both ways, then ducked into an al-

  leyway.

  “Talk about suspicious,” George murmured.

  Nancy reached for the door handle and pulled it.

  “Let's follow him,” she said.

  She and George crossed over to the alleyway and

  paused at the end of it. Nancy peeked her head around

  for a look, then blinked to let her eyes adjust to the

  dimmer light.

  The alley stretched back about fifty feet, she saw.

  One side of it ran behind the businesses on Main

  Street. Windows dotted the grungy brick walls, along

  with a network of fire escapes higher up.

  Randy was about halfway down the alleyway. As

  Nancy watched, he reached up toward one of the

  windows and pushed it up.

  “He's sneaking in!” she whispered to George.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “SportsMania, I bet.” Nancy frowned as Randy

  hoisted himself up and over the windowsill. As soon as

  he was out of sight, she darted into the alleyway.

  “Come on!” she whispered.

  They tiptoed down the alleyway, then crouched be-

  neath the window Nancy had seen him climb through.

  They heard drawers opening, and the rustle of papers.

  “Come on,” Randy's muttered voice came through

  the window.

  Slowly and silently Nancy lifted her head until she

  could see through the window. They were at the back

  of SportsMania, all right. Nancy recognized Mel

  Lorenzo's cluttered office immediately. Her eyes

  narrowed as she caught sight of Randy, bent over an

  open drawer of Mr. Lorenzo's desk.

  “Ahem!” Nancy cleared her throat.

  Randy's head jerked upward, and his surprised eyes

  locked on her.

  Nancy was through the window in a flash. “Gotcha,”

  she said.

  14. Caught!

  “What are you doing?” George demanded of Randy,

  scrambling through the window behind Nancy.

  “Leaving Mr. Lorenzo another blackmail note?”

  “Shhh!” Randy held a finger to his lips, jerking his

  head toward the office door. “If Jimmy hears, we'll all

  be in hot water.”

  The three of them froze. Nancy didn't relax until she

  heard Jimmy talking to a customer in the store. He

  didn't appear to have heard them.

  “Don't try to change the subject,” she whispered,

  crossing her arms over her chest. “We were talking

  about blackmail, remember?”

  Randy stared at her blankly. “I don't know what you

  mean,” he said.

  “Shouldn't we call the police, Nancy?” George bit

  her lip and leaned against a stack of cardboard cartons.

  “Wait!” Randy glanced quickly back and forth be-

  tween Nancy and George. “Just hear me out. If you still

  want to call the police when I'm done, I won't stop

  you.”

  Nancy glanced at George, who shrugged. “Okay,”

  Nancy said.

  “I'm looking for evidence,” Randy said. “Evidence

  that could lead to the capture of a criminal who's been

  on the loose for the past three years.”

  He pulled his notebook from his parka pocket.

  Nancy recognized the faxed sheets he slipped out from

  under the cover and held out to her.

  “Three years ago there was a point-fixing scam at

  Western Tech,” Randy explained. “I wrote about it for

  Sports World.”

  Nancy said nothing to let on that she had already

  read the beginning of the article. Holding it out so

  George could see it, too, she skipped over the part she

  had already seen.

  “Whoa,” she said, reading farther. “The man who

  masterminded the scam got away?”

  Randy nodded. “Andrew Papazian, a local busi-

  nessman. He skipped bail and was never seen or heard

  from again.”

  “So those three college kids were ruined,” George

  said, pointing at the names in the article. “Ty Brubaker,

  Kent Atwood, and Jamal Warner. But Papazian got

  away.”

  “Actually . . .” Randy shot another glance at the

  closed office door. Lowering his voice even more, he

  said, “I think I may have found him.”

  Nancy's mouth fell open as she made the connec-

  tion. “Mr. Lorenzo? You think he's Andrew Papazian?”

  “There's a photograph in the article.” George

  flipped to the second page and pointed at the grainy

  image.

  “Hmm.” Nancy looked closely, then frowned. “See

  how fat Papazian is?” She pointed to the huge paunch

  on the man in the photograph. He held a corner of his

  suit jacket over his face. A fat cigar stuck out from

  between the fingers of his right hand, which he used to

  hold a corner of his suit jacket over his face. “Mr.

  Lorenzo is in much better shape than that. And I've

  never seen him smoke.”

  “I know, I know. Papazian didn't wear a ponytail or

  tinted glasses, either,” Randy said. “But he could have

  changed the way he looked so no one would recognize

  him. Try to see past the superficial details.”

  Nancy stared at the photo again. “Papazian is big,

  like Mr. Lorenzo,” she said slowly. “If this guy lost

  weight, got in shape, gave up cigars, grew his hair, and

  started wearing glasses, he could look like Mr.

  Lorenzo.”

  “That's a lot of ifs,” George said. She fixed Randy

  with questioning eyes as she put the faxed article down

  on the desk.

  “I didn't make the connection at first, either,” Randy

  told them. “But there was something Lorenzo kept

  saying, Man, oh, man.' ” Randy tapped the article

  against the desk. “It rang a bell. Then I remembered

  where I'd heard it.”

  “Andrew Papazian?” Nancy guessed.

  “Bingo,” said Randy. “He used that expression all

  the time. During the trial, press conferences . . . I

  wasn't the only person who noticed. After he skipped

  town, I remember reading a newspaper headline that

  said, Papazian Is Gone, Oh, Gone!' ”

  “I still couldn't say for sure that Mr. Lorenzo is the

  same person in that photograph,” Nancy said. “But if

  he is, that could explain why he's being blackmailed.

  Someone else could have realized he was Andrew

  Papazian.”

  “And that person threatened to spill the beans—

  unless Mr. Lorenzo paid big money,” George finished.

  “The big question is, who is the person?”

  Nancy rested her hands on the desk and leaned over

  them, thinking. “I don't know. And I'm still not sure

  what all this has to do with the sabotage that's been

  going on at the Clues Challenge,” she said. “Maybe

  nothing.”

  Randy's article lay on the desk in front of her. Nancy


  found herself staring at a photograph near the end of

  the article, of the three Western Tech basketball

  players who had been expelled.

  The caption read, “Ty Brubaker, Kent Atwood, and

  Jamal Warner expressed remorse for their part in the

  point-fixing scandal. Ty Brubaker, former high scorer

  for Western Tech, said, It was wrong. I'm sorry I ever

  let Pops talk me into it.' “

  “Pops?” Nancy said, fingering the print.

  “Papazian's nickname,” Randy told her.

  “I've seen it before . . . somewhere,” Nancy mur-

  mured.

  She couldn't take her eyes off the photograph. There

  was something familiar about it. She kept going back to

  Ty Brubaker, and the dark brows that stretched over

  his eyes in a thick line. . . .

  “That's it!” she said, snapping her fingers.

  “Shhh!” George shot a warning glance at the door.

  All three of them froze. Nancy only relaxed when

  she heard Jimmy and his customer still talking out in

  the store.

  “There's a photograph of Dennis and Ty Brubaker

  in Dennis's room!” she whispered. “He has an auto-

  graphed photograph of Ziggy Laroquette, too. Some-

  one named Pops wrote on it.”

  “Papazian?” George guessed.

  Nancy shrugged. “Maybe. But we know one thing

  for sure. If Dennis knew Ty Brubaker, he definitely

  knows about the point-fixing.”

  “Which means he could have known Papazian

  before he skipped bail and turned himself into Mr.

  Lorenzo.” Randy jumped to his feet and headed for the

  window. “Dennis is the link we need to put Papazian

  behind bars where he belongs. I've got to talk to him.”

  “Hold it!” Nancy said. “We still don't know for sure

  that Mr. Lorenzo and Andrew Papazian are the same

  person.”

  “Besides which,” George added, “Dennis might not

  want to cooperate. If he's the person who's been

  blackmailing Mr. Lorenzo, he's made a lot of money by

  keeping Papazian's identity a secret.”

  Randy shoved the faxed article under the cover of

  his notebook and dropped it into his jacket pocket.

  “We can't sit by and do nothing. If Lorenzo is Papaz-

  ian, he belongs in jail.”

  “We need to find out the truth,” Nancy said. “Let's

  talk to Dennis.”

  “How? We don't know where he is,” George said.

  Nancy headed for the window and began to climb

  back out to the alley. “I think I know how we can find