Making Waves

“So what do you have for us?” Nancy asked.

  “Steele Lumber’s bank records.” Stan pointed to a list of numbers on the left of the screen.

  “How did you get access to that?” Ned asked.

  Stan chuckled. “Don’t ask.”

  Nancy had kept the computer printout from Annapolis National. Now she took it from her pocket and unfolded it, comparing the figures on the screen with the figures on the paper. “It looks as if the deposits made to Steele Lumber coincide with the withdrawals from Andy and Nick’s special account as well as the checks written by Lazlo Designs.” She frowned. “There don’t seem to be deposits from anyplace else.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Stan said. “Which means this is a dummy account set up strictly to hold money being taken from Lazlo Designs. Plus, all my sources say there is no legit business named Steele Lumber.”

  “I don’t get it.” Ned shook his head. “Why move the money from one account to another?”

  Stan leaned back in his chair. “My guess is, it’s the only way Nick Lazlo would’ve been able to move that amount of money without anyone else knowing. A person can’t draw out large sums all at once, because he’d have to come into the bank in person armed with various IDs. Plus, since it’s a joint account, the bank might call Andy to verify the withdrawal.”

  “So Nick does it a little at a time,” Nancy said. “And if he does it by writing checks to another company—”

  “A fake company set up by him,” Stan put in.

  Nancy nodded before continuing her thought. “Then the bank sees only the check. He probably could have forged Andy’s name. And he must also have been siphoning money from Lazlo Designs’ regular account, which is why we saw five-thousand-dollar checks to Steele Lumber.”

  Stan pressed his fingertips together, making a small steeple with his hands. “Right. Now we have to find out why Mr. Lazlo needed all this money,” he said. “And why he didn’t want Andy to know about it.” Frowning, he stared intently at the screen. “The only other information this gives us is the name of the person who has access to Steele Lumber.”

  “It’s not Nick Lazlo?” Nancy asked in surprise. “I just assumed it was.”

  “Nope. I wish it was that easy. The name on the account is Bill Jobeson.”

  “Bill, Bill . . .” Nancy said. Why did that sound familiar?

  “Maybe Lazlo was paying the money out to a blackmailer?” Ned suggested.

  Stan shrugged. “Could be. Hopefully, I’ll find out that answer when I learn who Bill Jobeson is.”

  He spun his chair around to face Nancy and Ned. “I’ve got some more interesting news, too,” he told them, a gleam in his eye. “My sources on the police force say that the placement of Andy’s fingerprints on the gun look very strange.”

  “Why?” Nancy asked.

  “Because his fingerprints were found only on the barrel of the gun, not on the grip. The grip had been wiped clean.”

  Nancy squeezed Ned’s hand excitedly. “So somebody else could have shot the gun, wiped his or her prints off, then planted it in the bushes!”

  “Right,” Stan said. “And since it’s Andy’s gun, the real shooter would have assumed that at least one of Andy’s prints would be on it somewhere.”

  Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad all this information pointed to Andy’s innocence. “Now I know what our next job is. I want to head back to the scene of the crime. The police zeroed in on Andy so quickly that they might have overlooked evidence to the identity of the person who really did shoot at Nick Lazlo.”

  • • •

  “Now, what’s the plan again?” Annabel Lazlo asked Ned and Nancy an hour later. “Andy’s going to sail the boat to the cove?”

  Nancy and Ned were following her along a narrow path that wound through the woods owned by Annabel’s mother. Andy had called Annabel for permission to explore the property, and Annabel had insisted on being their tour guide.

  “Yes,” Nancy answered Annabel’s question. “He should be there at about the same time we get to the top of the cliff.” Andy, Parker, and Bess were going to moor the Skipper’s Surprise at the same spot where they’d found Nick Lazlo’s deserted boat a few days earlier. That would help Nancy to “re-create” the shooting.

  Nancy was glad that Annabel had come. She wanted to see her reaction at the scene of the crime. If anyone had had the opportunity to set up Andy, it was Annabel. Annabel knew Nick would be at the cove, she knew how to get to the cliff, and she knew Andy had a gun. Annabel seemed to genuinely care for Andy, but Nancy knew that criminals could be convincing actors.

  Had she been working with Leah O’Halloran? Even though no new evidence had come to light implicating Leah, Nancy didn’t want to lose sight of her as a prime suspect.

  Nancy was behind Annabel as the three pushed through ivy and brambles. Nancy could hear Ned behind her, grumbling about the brambles snagging his Jeans. Ahead of her, Annabel moved with long, graceful strides. With her streaked hair and golden eyes, she reminded Nancy of a tiger on the prowl.

  “So what is it you’re trying to prove with this little hike?” Annabel asked as they walked along.

  “I’m still trying to clear Andy,” Nancy replied. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

  Turning her head, Annabel shot her an annoyed look. “Andy’s lawyer will get him off. But if you want to stomp around in the woods, be my guest.”

  As Nancy followed Annabel out of the dark woods to the edge of the cliff, the sudden change to bright light made her squint. The Severn River stretched out below her. Nancy saw the Skipper’s Surprise sailing into the cove.

  Stepping closer to the edge of the cliff, Nancy looked down. The steep, rocky sides plunged to the shore about forty feet below.

  “That would be a tough way to go, huh?” Annabel said, coming up beside Nancy. She had put on her sunglasses, so Nancy couldn’t read her expression, but there was a dark tone in Annabel’s voice that Nancy didn’t like.

  Annabel stepped closer to Nancy, so close that Nancy could feel her shirt sleeve brush her arm. Quickly Nancy looked behind her. Ned wasn’t there!

  For a second, panic seized her. Nancy spun in her tracks, trying to get away from the cliff’s edge. At the same time, she could feel the stones give way beneath her feet.

  Nancy screamed as she started to slide. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Annabel shoot out her arms toward her. In that instant, Nancy knew she was doomed. Annabel was going to push her over the edge!

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  NO!” NANCY YELLED. “Ned, help!”

  Annabel quickly grabbed Nancy’s arms and pulled her away from the edge of the cliff. At the same instant, Ned rushed out of the woods and hurried over.

  “What’s going on?” he asked in an accusing tone. Reaching Nancy, he steadied her with an arm around her shoulders.

  Annabel lowered her glasses and looked at the two of them in shocked surprise. “You don’t think I was going to push her off the cliff?” she asked. Then she threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, how funny! Annabel the murderer. I’ve been called a lot of things, but that would be a new one.”

  “It’s not funny, Annabel,” Ned said.

  With a shrug, Annabel put her sunglasses back in place. For a second Nancy could only stare at her. Had the woman been about to push her off the cliff, then changed her mind when Ned came into view? Or had Nancy only stumbled in her panic?

  Pulling away from Ned, Nancy looked up at him. “Thanks,” she whispered. Stepping toward the edge of the cliff again, she peered down to the cove. Below, Andy, Bess, and Parker were slowly maneuvering the Skipper’s Surprise into the spot where they’d discovered Nick Lazlo’s boat, the Neptune. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Nancy gazed out at them.

  “Not such an easy shot from up here,” Ned said. “The person would have to be quite a marksman.”

  “Is there a way to get to the bottom of the cliff?” Nancy asked Annabel. In her mind, she tried to imagi
ne the crime. Andy wouldn’t have had enough time to go down to the shore, hide and shoot Nick, and then climb back up again. But someone else might have shot Nick from below, then climbed up the cliff and planted the gun.

  Annabel nodded. “There’s sort of a path about a hundred yards to the right. Before we were married, Nick and I used to climb down to the cove to have private picnics.” Then she sighed. “That was before I realized he was a shark in disguise.”

  “Can you show us?” Nancy asked, growing excited. When she’d watched the police and crime team investigate, they had concentrated only on the area around the cliff where the gun had been found. By expanding the search, there was a good chance she might find some clue they’d missed.

  “I guess,” Annabel replied with a shrug. “But I’m supposed to play tennis, so after this you’re on your own.”

  Nancy and Ned followed Annabel down an overgrown path. It was no wonder that nobody had noticed the trail, Nancy thought. It looked as if it hadn’t been used in years.

  “There.” Annabel halted, pointing to a wild azalea bush growing from an outcrop of rock. “The path’s on the other side of that bush.”

  “Thanks,” Nancy said as she and Ned walked past Annabel.

  “Don’t fall!” Annabel called in an overly sweet voice. Then she turned and headed back the way they’d come.

  “Annabel is one strange lady,” Ned whispered. “I wonder what Andy sees in her?”

  “It could be that he likes challenges,” Nancy replied. “Though I agree with you that she’s strange. I mean, here we’re trying to find clues that will help Andy, and she’s off to play tennis.”

  Nancy stopped on the right side of the azalea bush. Sure enough, a steep, rocky path angled down to the cove. Nancy bent down to study the area.

  “Look at this!” she exclaimed, pointing out an imprint of a shoe toe embedded in a patch of clay. “Annabel said she and Nick came down here before they were married,” Nancy said in a low voice. “That was a long time ago. I bet that footprint was made last Friday.”

  “Didn’t the police climb down here?” Ned asked.

  Nancy shook her head. “They climbed down at Annabel’s property and walked along the shore from there.”

  “That’s right. So then, who left this footprint?” Ned wondered aloud.

  “Let’s see if we can find out,” Nancy said with a determined set to her jaw.

  The two started slowly down the steep incline, pausing to search for signs that someone had recently been there. About halfway down, Ned pointed out a broken twig. Then Nancy found a scuff mark on a rock. When they reached the bottom, she jumped to the rocky shore.

  “The tide would’ve washed away any signs down here,” Nancy said. Turning, she tilted her head back to study the cliff. “Only someone who knew about that path would have even attempted to climb to the top.”

  “Annabel?” Ned guessed. “She could have climbed down at her property as the police did, and then walked over here. After she shot Nick, she could have climbed up the cliff, figuring no one would ever spot the prints.”

  Nancy frowned. “Bit then why show it to us? Unless she thought there was no way she’d left tracks. Except she was wrong. The police can use that toe imprint to get an idea of the make of the shoe as well as what size foot the person had.”

  As she scanned the cliff, Nancy spotted something odd at the base. When she stepped closer, she could see little dots in a patch of dirt that had collected between two rocks. “I wonder what this is?” she asked, leaning down to study the dirt more closely. The dots looked like little craters randomly sprinkled in the, dry earth.

  “Who knows,” Ned replied, coming over to join her. Turning, he waved to Andy, Bess, and Parker, who had anchored the Skipper’s Surprise about a hundred feet from shore. “All I know is, I’m getting hot and hungry. Those guys look like they’re having fun.”

  Nancy twisted around. Andy raised his soda can in the air in a silent toast. Parker and Bess were relaxing on the top of the boat’s cabin.

  “That does look pretty inviting,” Nancy agreed. “Maybe we could dive in and swim out to the boat—”

  She broke off abruptly. “Dive in!” she repeated. “Ned, now I know what these dots are! They’re drips of water that splashed into the dirt. When the dirt dried, it made these little craters.”

  “You mean raindrops?” Ned asked. “But it hasn’t rained since we’ve been here.”

  Nancy shook her head. “No. Besides, if it had rained, then we’d see those marks in lots of places. These drips are just in one area—they came from the person who climbed this cliff.” Her heart was pounding in her chest as she grabbed Ned’s hand. “Don’t you see? The person who climbed up the cliff was wet! He or she had been swimming in the river!

  “I bet someone was in the boat with Nick,” Nancy continued. “Whoever it was shot him, then motored the boat somewhere else to dump the body. That’s why the divers haven’t found it.”

  Ned let out his breath. “Then the killer anchored the boat in the cove, swam to shore, climbed the cliff, and planted Andy’s gun there,” he said, finishing Nancy’s thought.

  Nancy pulled Ned toward the cliff. “Come on. We’ve got to find Stan. With all the information he’s gathered, this might sound logical enough to convince the police that Andy’s been set up.”

  • • •

  Half an hour later, Nancy burst from the woods into the sunlight. Ned was right behind her. Earlier they had parked Andy’s car along the side of the road of Annabel’s mother’s property. As the two jogged toward it, Nancy spotted a beat-up sedan parked in front of the Cadillac. Stan Yadlowski opened the sedan’s door and got out.

  “How did you know where to find us?” Nancy asked, puffing for air as she and Ned stopped in front of him.

  Stan grinned. “Hey, that’s my job.” He held out a rolled-up sheet of paper. “Wait till you see what I discovered.”

  Unrolling the paper, he showed it to Nancy and Ned. It was a computer printout. “This is Bill Jobeson’s credit report. It’s public record. Any time you apply for a loan or make a credit card purchase, anyone can check this.”

  Nancy studied the report. There were three columns. The first had the name of the bank or credit account and the date it was opened.

  “Notice anything strange about Bill Jobeson?” Stan asked.

  “I do,” Ned put in quickly. “The guy didn’t spend anything for almost two years. Look.” He pointed to the date column. “He has a long history of credit—charge cards, a car payment, mortgage. Then three years ago—nothing.”

  “Right,” Stan said. “Until last year. Then all of a sudden, our mysterious Mr. Jobeson starts spending again. And look here—” Stan unrolled another sheet of paper. “This is a list of purchases Mr. Jobeson made in the last year with his credit card.”

  Nancy looked sideways at Stan. “How did you get that? Or is that another trade secret.”

  Stan laughed. “Let’s just say I have my ways.”

  Pointing to the last item on the list, Nancy said, “Look at this. A charge to a rental car company—and it’s dated Thursday. Do you think Bill Jobeson was the person in the van who met Leah O’Halloran?”

  Before Stan could reply, Ned snapped his fingers and said, “Maybe Mike O’Halloran, Leah’s husband, is pretending to be this Bill Jobeson person. We thought Leah might have lied about her husband being dead.”

  “Maybe the two were blackmailing Nick for something,” Nancy added excitedly. “That’s why Jobeson is suddenly spending money again—Nick transferred the money into a dummy account under the false name of Bill Jobeson. Of course Mike O’Halloran really set up the account, using a fake identity.”

  Stan cleared his throat. “Uh, I hate to burst your bubble, kids, but the other news I’ve got is from police headquarters. This morning the Miami Police Department called Annapolis. Mike O’Halloran’s body washed up on shore. It took them some time to identify it, but it was him, all right. And just as Leah
O’Halloran said, he’d been shot.”

  Nancy’s mind was reeling. “So if Mike O’Halloran isn’t Bill Jobeson, who is?”

  Stan shrugged. “My first hunch was Mike, too. Now I don’t know.”

  “Well, we’ve just discovered something else,” Nancy told him. She and Ned told the private investigator about what they’d seen on the cliff and her theory that the shooter had actually been on the boat with Nick Lazlo. When she was finished, Stan frowned.

  “It could be that this mysterious Bill Jobeson knew Nick well enough to go sailing with him that morning. But that still doesn’t tell us who he or she is and why the person shot Nick,” Stan said.

  Nancy cocked her head to one side, thinking over the case. “There seem to be several suspects. Let’s take another look at your printouts and see if they give us any more leads.”

  “Good idea,” Stan agreed.

  Holding up the credit report, Stan pointed to the two-year time gap in the dates. “Sometimes when we see this pattern—where there’s a big gap between the times a person spends money—it suggests someone who’s established a new identity.”

  “A new identity?” Nancy repeated.

  “Yeah. Some missing persons don’t want to be found. Maybe they owe their ex-wives a ton of alimony, or maybe the creditors are hot on their heels. So they disappear. The stupid ones get caught, of course. Because eventually they run out of money and have to reestablish credit or get a job. If they use their own name, bingo, we’ve got them.”

  “But the smart ones come back as a whole new person,” Nancy added. “I’ve read about that. A year or so before the person plans on disappearing, he or she begins to establish a new identity.”

  Ned put his hands on his hips. “Wait a minute. A person can’t just pick a new name out of the air. He needs a birth certificate, social security number—”

  “Correct,” Stan cut in. “So someone establishing a new identity has to take someone else’s identity. Usually they find a dead John Doe—some bum who’s in a pauper’s grave with no family to claim him. Or maybe they . . .”