Making Waves

  SO YOU THINK Stan is pulling a fast one on us?” Annabel asked. It was the first time she had shown interest in the case, Nancy thought.

  Andy jumped up from his seat in the cockpit. “Maybe Stan shot Nick,” he said angrily. “Nick might have found out that he was trying to steal the plans.”

  “But what about Leah and her pirate story?” Bess asked, confused. “Did Yadlowski just make that up to cast suspicion on someone else?”

  Nancy let out a sigh and shrugged. “I wish I had answers for all our questions, but I don’t,” she said.

  Suddenly Parker stood up on top of the cabin and pointed out over the water. “Look, the race committee has posted the course.”

  Andy gazed at the banner that had been hung from the race committee’s boat. Then he consulted the race circular in his hand. “Just as I thought. We’ll have to sail to the Bay Bridge for the first mark of the upwind leg. Then we’ll run downwind about five miles to the leeward mark.”

  “Piece of cake,” Annabel said confidently. She steered the Skipper’s Surprise toward an orange marker bobbing in the water that marked the starting line. “At least it will be if you guys remember all you learned. What’s tacking?” She shot the question at Bess.

  “Uh,” Bess stammered, “that’s when the boat changes course, and you have to switch the mainsail to the other side of the boat,” she blurted out.

  “Right,” Parker said.

  “The forty-footers go first,” Andy said. “That means us. There’ll be a warning gun, then a preparatory gun, and then we’re off. So let’s get ready, crew!”

  • • •

  Half an hour into the race, the Skipper’s Surprise was nearing the graceful arcs of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Nancy had to admit that so far the race had been exhilarating. In front of the bridge, she could see the orange weather mark that signaled the end of the upwind leg. They had to round that mark counterclockwise, then head south to the leeward mark.

  Annabel had explained that rounding the mark was the hardest part of the race. All the sailboats were converging on that one point, so the skipper had to avoid accidents yet work for the best position to get ahead.

  “Ned, are you and Nancy ready to handle the jib?” Annabel called above the wind.

  Ned was braced on the port side of the boat. Nancy was on the starboard side, ready to cast the jib sheet off the winch. The jib was the triangular sail in front of the mainsail. When they tacked to round the mark, the jib would have to change from the right side to the left. Nancy would let out slack in the sheets on her side, while Ned would pull the sheet tight on the port side so the jib would be set for the downwind part of the course.

  “Ready!” Ned shouted back.

  Positioned at the bow, Parker and Bess were getting the spinnaker ready to fly. The spinnaker was a brightly colored sail that ballooned out in front during the downwind leg for extra speed.

  “We’re ready to set the spinnaker pole,” Parker added.

  “Wait for my signal!” Annabel called out. Behind her, Andy was in control of the mainsail, automatically making adjustments as Annabel made slight changes to the course she was steering.

  As they approached the orange marker, Nancy’s heart began to race. On the right side of the Skipper’s Surprise three other forty-footers were rushing straight for the marker, too.

  Nancy held her breath as she saw what Annabel was trying to do. There was just enough room to squeeze the Surprise between the three boats and the marker. Since they would then be on the leeward side of the boats, the Surprise would have the right of way and the racer’s advantage. They’d be able to round the mark ahead of the three other boats. But if Annabel made the slightest mistake, they could crash right into the marker or one of the boats.

  Adrenaline pumped through Nancy as they glided swiftly toward the marker. Off to the right, the three boats angled straight toward the Skipper’s Surprise. Nancy tensed, waiting for the crash.

  “Cast off the jib!” Annabel shouted.

  Ned and Nancy jumped to action. At the same time, Andy let out the mainsail, and the Surprise shot into the wind and tacked onto the same course as the three boats. At the bow Parker and Bess readied the spinnaker.

  “Ease the jib and set the spinnaker pole!” Annabel directed.

  As the Skipper’s Surprise circled the mark and headed south, the spinnaker rose into the air, caught the wind, and billowed out, its neon orange stripes zigzagging across it. Looking quickly over her shoulder, Nancy could see the three other boats rounding the mark about two lengths behind.

  “We did it!” Andy cheered. Across the top of the cabin, Ned gave Nancy the thumbs-up sign. The Skipper’s Surprise was ahead. If the rest of the race was this successful, they were going to win!

  • • •

  “So what happened?” Bess grumbled three hours later as the tired crew sailed back up to the Devereux’ dock. “At first we were winning, and then . . .” Her voice trailed off as she slumped onto the cockpit seat. Next to her, Nancy could see Andy staring glumly out across the Severn River. Ever since they’d lost the race, he’d been silent.

  Annabel sighed. “Well, I can’t blame it on the crew,” she said, giving everyone a reluctant smile.

  Thank goodness, Nancy thought. When they’d come in fourth, she’d been braced for Annabel’s wrath. Nancy was sitting with Ned on the deck, leaning against the side of the cabin. Ned’s arm was draped around her shoulder. The wind, the sun, and the fast pace had drained them both.

  “Maybe if Nick had been skipper, we would have won,” Annabel said, casting a worried look at Andy.

  “No, you did a great job,” Andy shot back. “It’s the Nican. Something’s not right.”

  “What!” Parker exclaimed, echoing Nancy’s surprise. He was standing at the bow, folding up the jib. “What do you mean?”

  “There was no way anyone should’ve beaten us,” Andy said firmly.

  “Do you think someone sabotaged the boat?” Nancy asked.

  “I don’t know how. I checked her from stern to stern this morning.” Andy’s angry expression changed to one of bewilderment. “This is all so crazy! And the worst thing is, we may get to shore and I’ll find out something else horrible—like that I’m going to jail for the rest of my life.”

  “No way!” Annabel said, a determined set to her jaw. “There’s no way they can prove you shot Nick.”

  The two of them looked genuinely distressed, and Nancy wished she could believe they hadn’t been involved in Nick’s disappearance. Still, she couldn’t be sure. With Stan’s possible deceit, Leah O’Halloran’s involvement, and perhaps sabotage, Nancy didn’t know whom to suspect—or whom to trust.

  “Look, someone’s coming to meet us,” Ned said.

  Nancy turned to see two figures moving across the lawn. “Oh, great,” Andy groaned. “I bet it’s those two homicide detectives.”

  Nancy stood up and trained her binoculars on the dock. “No, it’s your mom and dad, and they have big grins on their faces.”

  “I hope it’s not because they think we won,” Annabel spoke up from the wheel. “Bess, you grab the mooring line. Nancy, help Parker in the bow. Andy, drop the mainsail. And, Ned, you get ready to keep the boat from hitting the dock’s pilings.”

  “How’d the race go?” Mr. Devereux asked after the group had docked. “Did the Skipper’s Surprise leave the rest in her wake?”

  “Um, not exactly,” Andy replied quietly.

  As Nancy jumped to the dock with the bowline, Mrs. Devereux turned to her. “Nancy, a Stan somebody has called twice for you. It sounded important. I left a number by the phone where you can reach him.”

  Nancy thanked the older woman, but her stomach was churning. That morning she had thought Stan was an ally. Now she had no idea what he was up to. Was he working for someone who wanted to steal the design of the Nican Forty’s keel? Or was he helping to sabotage the boat so it wouldn’t be a success? It was Sunday, so she couldn’t double-check the office
of Bayside Insurance. That meant she’d have to be extra careful when she spoke to Stan Yadlowski.

  Nancy excused herself and jogged up to the house. She found the number by the phone in the front hall. This time Stan answered on the first ring.

  “Hi, Stan.?’ Nancy kept her voice as calm as possible. “What did you find out?”

  “Lots,” Stan replied in a grim voice. “But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  Nancy sucked in her breath. “Why not?”

  “Because it makes your friend Andy look awfully suspicious. I checked into the account where the insurance money was deposited.”

  “And?” Nancy prompted, tightening her grip on the phone receiver.

  “There is no money,” Stan replied. “The balance in the account was under a hundred dollars.”

  “What? What happened to the rest?”

  “A friend of mine just happens to work at Annapolis National. She checked the computer for me and said that the money’s been slowly paid out to—now, get this—Steele Lumber.”

  Nancy drew her breath in sharply. “That’s the company I noticed in Lazlo Design’s account books.”

  “Right,” Stan said. “Lucky for me, one of the checks written to Steele Lumber had just come in the day I visited. My friend pulled it for me.” Stan hesitated briefly before adding, “And the check was signed by none other than your friend Andrew Devereux.”

  Chapter

  Twelve

  NANCY ALMOST DROPPED the telephone receiver in her shock. Andy had been the one withdrawing the money! But he’d denied even knowing about Steele Lumber.

  Just then, a hand closed around her shoulder. With a gasp, Nancy spun around to find Andy behind her, a grim look on his face.

  “Nancy! Are you still there?” Stan said over the phone line.

  Keeping her eyes on Andy, Nancy slowly spoke into the receiver. “Yes.”

  Andy’s parents strode into the hall behind their son. “What’s going on?” Mr. Devereux asked.

  “What did Stan say?” Andy asked.

  Nancy took a deep breath, willing her heartbeat to slow down. Holding up a finger to Andy and his parents, she spoke to Stan again. “What about the license plate number of the van that met Leah O’Halloran?” she asked.

  While waiting for Stan’s answer, Nancy tried to reason through what she’d just learned. If Andy was trying to keep the Steele Lumber account a secret, why would he have mentioned it to her in the first place? For all she knew, Stan was feeding her false information. If he was working for a rival company or a saboteur, it would be to his advantage to make Andy look as guilty as possible.

  Stan’s voice came back over the line. “The van’s from a local rental company. It’ll take a little more time to figure out who rented it. I should have that information and something on Steele Lumber by Monday. My guess is that Steele Lumber is just a dummy account.”

  Nancy thanked Stan and hung up.

  “Well? What did he say?” Andy probed. Mr. and Mrs. Devereux were right behind him.

  “From the look on your face, I’d say it wasn’t good news,” Andy’s father guessed.

  Taking a deep breath, Nancy told them about the insurance money having been withdrawn from the special account they had set up. Andy’s mouth dropped, and his eyes glazed over.

  “You don’t believe that I took it, do you?” Andy exclaimed as his parent’s surprised gaze swung to him. His face went from white to bright red. “Someone is setting me up. And when I find out who it is, I’m going to kill them!” Spinning around, he started for the stairs.

  Nancy ran after him, catching him on the bottom step. “Andy, wait!” she said. “Stan might be lying. We need to get a look at that account.”

  “That’s right!” Mr. Devereux added determinedly. “The account is at Annapolis National, right? I play golf with the president. He’ll help us clear this up, even if it is Sunday.”

  An hour later Mr. Stewart, president of the Annapolis National Bank, and Mary Masterson, the manager, were standing with Mr. Devereux, Andy, and Nancy behind the counter of the bank. The others had stayed at the house to finish cleaning up the Skipper’s Surprise and fix dinner.

  Andy was staring at a computer printout statement of his account. Nancy was standing next to him, reading down the list of checks drawn against the special account. In the last two months, numerous checks had been written out to Steele Lumber until the balance of the account was only ninety dollars. Photocopies of the checks showed that Andy’s signature was on them.

  “I did not write those checks,” Andy declared angrily. “Someone must have forged my signature.”

  “Uh, the signature would have been compared to your signature card,” Mary Masterson spoke up hesitantly.

  Andy’s eyes narrowed. Nancy had never seen him so angry, not that she blamed him. If someone was setting him up, they were doing a good job.

  “Look, why would I drain my own account, then deny it?” he asked. “After all, it is my money. Nick or I could move it into another account whenever we wanted.”

  “So you and Nick were joint account holders?” Nancy asked. A germ of an idea had just come to her.

  “What are you getting at?” Andy asked, puzzled.

  “You mentioned that Nick had also written out several checks to Steele Lumber from the company’s account,” she said quickly. “Could he have taken out the insurance money without your knowing about it?”

  Mr. Devereux clapped his son excitedly on the shoulder. “Of course he could have.”

  Andy thought about it for a second. “It’s possible. Come to think of it, I don’t think I received any statement for this account last month—or the month before. I know this sounds stupid, but I didn’t even think about it because we had agreed not to touch it. So someone could have withdrawn the money without my knowledge.”.

  “Then that explains everything,” Mr. Stewart said. “Nick must have had a reason to take the money out.”

  Nancy’s mind was whirling a mile a minute. If Nick Lazlo had written the checks, why had he signed Andy’s name to them? And why was he paying out such large sums of money to Steele Lumber?

  Absently, Nancy took the computer statement and folded it. Maybe when they found the answer to those two questions, they would solve the case.

  • • •

  Monday morning Ned, Nancy, Andy, Parker, and Bess were finishing breakfast on the patio. The air smelled sweetly of cut grass and flowers. Still, everyone’s mood was gloomy.

  “Let’s try to look at this rationally,” Nancy said. “Maybe if we all put our heads together, we can figure out this case.”

  “I just know Andy didn’t do it,” Parker declared. “I mean, if you were going to make off with over half a million dollars, you’d at least do it right—head for some remote tropical island so you could enjoy it.”

  “And you certainly would wipe your fingerprints off the gun that was used to shoot at Nick Lazlo,” Bess chimed in, as she finished eating a muffin. “I think all this account stuff is to confuse us. Leah O’Halloran is our crook. Let’s concentrate on her.”

  Nancy silently agreed. One thing she knew was that Andy Devereux wasn’t stupid. All her instincts told her that he wouldn’t have left so many obvious clues pointing to himself. That meant that someone else was setting him up. Someone who knew a lot about sailing and the business—someone like Annabel or the O’Hallorans.

  “At least we know Stan Yadlowski was telling the truth about the account with the insurance money,” Nancy said. “By the way, he called just before breakfast. He said he wants us to meet him at his office—he has some interesting information to show us. So I’d say he’s working with us instead of against us.”

  “Unless the interesting information he wants to show us is a gun,” Andy put in.

  Dropping her napkin on the table, Nancy stood up. “That’s why we’re going to pay a visit to Bayside Insurance first and find out for sure if Mr. Stan Yadlowski is who he says he is.” r />
  “Not me,” Andy said, getting to his feet as well. “I’m meeting a boatbuilder friend of mine at the office so he can study the design of the Nican. If no one sabotaged the Surprise, I want to know why she didn’t win yesterday’s race. You guys can take my car. I’ll take my mom’s.”

  “Why don’t Bess and I go with you?” Parker offered. “We can go through Nick’s office and look for those missing account statements. If we can find something that proves Nick was the one withdrawing the insurance money, that’ll really help your case.”

  “But why would Nick do that?” Ned wondered aloud.

  “That’s the ten-million-dollar question. Hopefully we’ll learn the answer soon,” Nancy said. Turning to Andy, Bess, and Parker, she added, “Ned and I will meet Stan at his office, then call you at Lazlo Designs.”

  An hour later Ned and Nancy stood in front of the door of a small clapboard house on the outskirts of Annapolis. The paint on the door was chipped, and the bushes flanking the stoop had taken over.

  “Are you sure this is Stan’s office?” Ned asked dubiously. He was stretching sideways, trying to peer into a window.

  Nancy nodded. “This is the address.”

  “Let me knock. If he shoots us through the door, at least you’ll be left to get him,” Ned joked.

  “Not necessary. You may not trust him, but after talking to Mr. Aquino of Bayside Insurance, I’m convinced that Stan’s on the level. Aquino confirmed Stan’s story about the pirates and about their investigation.”

  Just then the door opened, and Stan waved the two teens inside. “Hi. I thought I saw someone spying in my window,” he said with a smile.

  As Nancy stepped in, she looked around with a practiced eye. Stan’s house may have looked ramshackle from the outside, but inside it was cozy and cheery. In the center of his living room, he had a state-of-the-art computer systern.

  “Nice equipment,” Ned commented.

  “Only the best,” Stan said. He sat down in a swivel chair in front of the computer. “People don’t realize that nowadays half the work a P.I. does is at a keyboard.”