"But it is possible," Nancy insisted. "In fact, it should have been clear to me all along. No one has a stronger motive for harassing Annette Lang than Annette herself.
"Mr. Townsend, Annette is already finding it crowded at the top. These so-called attacks have been getting her a big dose of media exposure. Kevin says that she pressed him to put in a good word for her with the ICT execs. This is just the break she needs, only she maneuvered it herself."
The man frowned but said nothing.
"I had suspected Kevin Davis of using Annette 121 for career advancement, but it's actually the other way around/' Nancy caught George's triumphant look and smiled back.
"Annette could have prepared the anonymous notes, ripped up her own gear, even attacked me in the changing booth," Nancy went on. "I thought it was odd when she asked me to join her on her trip to the store, since she'd been resisting my attempts to protect her. Now I know why she wanted me along."
"But what about Gina Giraldi?" Derek protested. "Surely Annette wouldn't let someone be seriously hurt, or even killed, for the sake of a career. She's not as cold-blooded as that!"
Nancy had been wondering about that herself. "Well, we know she's not doing all this by herself," she said, thinking out loud. "The note on the message board means she's got an accomplice. I guess it's possible that that person has gotten out of control."
"That's right," Bess put in. "Annette really did seem upset after finding out about Gina. That was about the only time she ever lost her cool."
Nancy nodded. "Except for when I went after that sniper," she remembered. "I thought she was worried about me, but what she was really worried about was that I might catch her accomplice."
"Gee," George said, shaking her head. "Who do you think the accomplice is?"
"I wish I knew, because whoever it is is a very dangerous person," Nancy replied. "I don't think it's Renee or Irene anymore. One, Annette is trying too hard to implicate them. Two, the person who 'attacked' Annette today was definitely a man."
Turning to Mr. Townsend, Nancy asked, "By the way, do you have a sample of Annette's handwriting?"
"I have a note here, actually," he replied, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and passing it to Nancy. It was a note setting the time of that afternoon's gym workout.
Nancy looked at it and frowned. The script didn't resemble the backhanded writing of the note she had seen on the message board.
"Hey, Nan," Bess spoke up. "How did you figure out about Annette?"
"She didn't set up this so-called abduction attempt very well. She drags us outside as witnesses and calls Brenda's room to ensure press coverage. But when I ask her what she wants to tell me, she has nothing new to say."
"Astonishing," the trainer said quietly. "I'd never have thought it, but listening to you, it all fits."
"Now what?" Bess wanted to know. "Do we go to Annette and make her say who she's working with?"
"I don't think so," Nancy said. "The accomplice is already dangerous. Knowing we're on the trail might make things even more dangerous. I'd like to check a few more things first, before confronting Annette."
"Such as?" George asked.
"Let's call the hospital and check on Gina again," Nancy answered. "If she can talk, she might identify her attacker. Mr. Townsend, I know this is hard for you since you're Annette's trainer. But can you behave toward Annette as if you don't know anything of what we've been talking about?"
The man nodded. 'Til do my best."
Leaving the trainer, Nancy, George, and Bess headed across the lobby toward the phones near the elevators.
"Ms. Drew?" A clerk at the desk motioned to Nancy as the girls passed by. "A call came in for you a few minutes ago. Here's the message."
He handed her a slip of paper that said, "Call Sergeant Stokes." A number was listed beneath.
Nancy hurried over to the bank of phones, and her friends followed. She dialed the number but was told that Stokes was out. She then called the hospital. A nurse informed her that Gina was drifting in and out of consciousness and had said a few words.
Nancy relayed the news to Bess and George. "I think it's worth a shot at trying to talk to Gina."
"I'm willing," said Bess. "Let's go."
George held back. "Would you guys mind if I don't go?" she asked. "There's that early carbo-loading dinner in the restaurant tonight, and then Kevin said he has something special to give me." George's voice lowered as she said the last part, and she gave Nancy and Bess an embarrassed smile.
"No problem," Nancy told George. "Have fun!"
George offered to let them use her car, which was parked in the hotel garage, but Nancy and Bess decided to take a cab to the hospital. They got Gina's room number from the reception desk. On the third floor a nurse directed them to Gina's room.
"She might not make much sense," the nurse warned them. "It's mostly just babble."
The two girls paused just inside the door of the room. Gina's head was wrapped in bandages, and underneath her eyes were huge, ugly bruises.
Bess shook her head angrily. "Whoever did this deserves to—" She broke off as the runner's eyes fluttered open and her lips moved.
Nancy and Bess hurried over to Gina's bedside and bent over to listen.
"Monk. . ." came a faint whisper. "I know him. ... It was monk . . ." Then she closed her eyes.
"Monk?" repeated Bess, looking at Nancy. "That nurse was right—she is just babbling."
"Maybe," Nancy admitted. "Anyway, it looks as if Gina is out again for now. We might as well go back to the hotel. I'll try Sergeant Stokes again. Maybe 'monk' will mean something to him."
"Not there?" Bess guessed an hour and a half later, when Nancy hung up the phone in their room.
Nancy nodded. It was the third time since returning from the hospital that she had tried to contact Sergeant Stokes. Each time she had been told he was out and couldn't be reached. "My stomach's growling," she said. "Let's go eat dinner."
Just then the door opened, and George walked in. "Look at this!" she exclaimed, holding up the silver running shoe charm Kevin had shown Nancy the day before.
"How cute!" Bess exclaimed, examining it.
"Kevin gave it to me as a good-luck charm for the race tomorrow. That's why he didn't want to say where he was yesterday. He wanted to surprise me. Isn't he wonderful?"
Nancy smiled at George. "He really is," she agreed. "Hey, it's only seven-thirty. How come you're not still out with Mr. Wonderful?"
"I have to be up by six-thirty tomorrow morning," George told her. "The race starts at nine, and I should be there by seven-thirty or eight. So tonight I'm not doing anything but sleeping."
After saying good night to George, Nancy and Bess left the room and went to the Great Fire for dinner.
"I never thought I'd feel sorry for Gina," Bess said, taking a bite of her chicken crepes, "but now I do. What a terrible thing to happen."
Nancy frowned and speared a lettuce leaf with her fork. "I just hope we can make sure the same thing doesn't happen to anybody else," she said. Looking up, she noticed a familiar, curly blond head a few tables away.
"Oh, there's Jake," she said. "He doesn't seem too happy." The runner's association official was staring down at his dessert and coffee without touching them.
"Poor Jake. He's probably upset about Gina," Bess said sympathetically. "I'm going to ask him to join us."
She got up and went over to his table. A moment later Bess returned with Jake, who was carrying his cup of espresso and his dessert plate.
"I am happy for company," he told them. "It saves me from thinking about Gina's terrible ordeal."
Nancy and Bess told him about their visit, trying to make Gina's condition sound as hopeful as possible. They didn't say anything about her mention of "monk."
Jake seemed grateful when Bess launched into a humorous story about George's many failed attempts to get her to take up running. By the end of the meal he was even laughing. When they left the restaurant and
said good night, Nancy felt good about the friendship that had begun between them.
She and Bess were headed for the phones to call Sergeant Stokes again when Nancy heard Renee Clark calling her name.
"Nancy! Over here!" Renee was standing by the message board.
Nancy raised her eyebrows at Bess, and the two girls crossed the lobby to the runner.
"All set for tomorrow?" Nancy asked Renee.
"More or less," Renee said distractedly. Nancy noticed that her usual cheery attitude was gone. Actually, Renee appeared very worried.
"Have you seen Charles around anywhere? My trainer?" the runner asked.
Nancy shook her head. "Not since this morning," she answered.
Renee frowned. "We were supposed to have dinner together tonight and go over my strategy for tomorrow. But he's not anywhere around. I called his room several times, but there's no answer, and nobody has seen him since early in the day."
"Maybe he was delayed somewhere," Bess suggested.
"Well, there was a note from him on the board," Renee went on, "and in it he said he might be late. But it's so strange that he wouldn't have dinner with me tonight, when I have such an important race tomorrow." She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket.
Nancy stared at the note, stunned. It was the red-marbled notepaper!
"Can I see that for a second?" she asked.
"Sure," said Renee, handing it over.
Her pulse racing, Nancy read the brief message: "I may be a little late tonight. If I am, don't wait for me. C."
There was no mistaking that distinctive backslanted scrawl. It was definitely the same as the handwriting in the note giving the details of the sniper shooting.
And that meant that Charles Mellor was Annette's accomplice—and that he had staged where the shooting should take place!
Chapter Seventeen
Renee, is this Mellor's regular notepaper?" Nancy asked.
Renee nodded. "It's from somewhere in Europe. Charles lived there for years, and he still has this stuff imported."
"And this is his handwriting?" Nancy pressed.
"Definitely," Renee replied without hesitation.
"It's pretty distinctive, isn't it, that backward tilt? He writes left-handed, so—"
"Excuse me," Nancy said, cutting off Renee.
"Bess and I have an important phone call to make."
As soon as they left Renee, Nancy told Bess what she had just discovered. "You're sure it's him?" Bess asked, her eyes wide.
Nancy nodded firmly. She reached for the nearest receiver when they got to the bank of telephones in the lobby. This time she got through to Sergeant Stokes.
"I have important news," said the sergeant.
"I do, too, and I suspect it fits in with yours," Nancy said over the line. "Let's hear yours first."
"Okay. The only one on your list of suspects who didn't check out squeaky clean was Charles Mellor. His fingerprints rang bells in our computers. According to Interpol, he has a criminal record under another name, Calvin Munk— M-u-n-k."
" 'Monk!' Of course!" Nancy exclaimed. "Let me guess," she went on excitedly. "I'll bet Calvin Munk's criminal record has to do with professional track or distance running in Europe."
"Right you are," Stokes answered, sounding surprised. "He was banned from racing in Europe for doctoring some runner's food before a race. He knew his chemistry—he added some poisonous mushrooms to the chicken in wine sauce the guy had ordered. Made the guy sick as a dog. It was supposed to look like food poisoning."
"There's something else, too," Nancy said. She told the detective about Gina saying "Munk" at the hospital. "And Renee Clark just identified the handwriting on the note that had the time and place of the shooting in the park. Charles Munk wrote it."
Stokes made a low whistle.
"Gina and Annette have both been around for a while, and they both have run on the European circuit," Nancy went on. "Gina must have recognized Mellor as Munk from back then."
"That makes sense," the sergeant agreed. "If he thought she was going to talk to Brenda Carlton about some scandal involving him, he might have figured he had to stop her."
"That's another thing," Nancy said. "Munk is half of the conspiracy responsible for all the incidents we've been investigating."
There was a pause before Stokes said, "And I suppose you've worked out who the other half is?"
"It's Annette herself," Nancy told him. She went on to explain her theory that the whole thing was to build up Annette's TV exposure so that she would be hired as a sportscaster.
"And that's who Monk left the note for. He was telling her where to run so that he could set up the shooting. Originally I thought that the note was for the sniper, but it was from Munk to Annette."
"It does fit," Sergeant Stokes said slowly. "Between them they had the means, the motive, and the opportunity for everything. Munk must have been driving the car that was used in the apparent hit-and-run and the so-called abduction attempt."
"And he 'borrowed' ICT cars in all three instances, probably to throw suspicion on Kevin in case he was seen."
"The question is, what was his motive?" Stokes wondered aloud. "What did Munk gain?"
Nancy paused for a moment, thinking. "My hunch is that Annette blackmailed him into helping her. Like Gina, she must have recognized him. She would have known what he had done in Europe and she probably threatened to expose him. The problem is, he's vanished."
After a short silence, Sergeant Stokes said, "Stay put. My partner and I are on the way."
Nancy felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when the hotel's concierge let her, Bess, Sergeant Stokes, and Detective Zandt into Calvin Munk's room ten minutes later.
"He's already gotten away, hasn't he," Bess said, leaning against the wall next to the door. Empty drawers stuck out of the dresser, and the closet held nothing but some hangers.
"Looks that way," said Sergeant Stokes.
"Take a look at this," Detective Zandt called to his partner as he peered inside the top dresser drawer. He held up two brass rifle cartridges.
Sergeant Stokes examined them. "The same kind the sniper used in the park," he said. Then he went back to searching the area near the bed.
"Well, well." Sergeant Stokes pulled a pad of the marbled notepaper from the bedside table. He held it close to the bedside lamp. "Indentations on the top sheet," he observed. "Munk wrote something down and tore off the sheet."
Nancy went over and watched while he did a pencil rubbing. "A phone number," she said.
The sergeant nodded. "We'll get out an all-points bulletin on Munk," he said, "and we'll check on this number."
"He could still be planning more attacks," Detective Zandt said. "If Munk wants to bury his past, he'll go after Annette. That reporter—"
"Brenda Carlton," Nancy supplied.
"Right. She's another possible target. We can keep watch on her, but I don't see how we can keep an eye on Annette along the whole marathon route. We should just put her into custody right now and be done with it."
Nancy held up a hand. "The problem is that Annette's arrest will make news. When Munk hears of it, he'll go into hiding."
"But if she isn't arrested, Munk is bound to be somewhere on that marathon course tomorrow, waiting for her," Bess put in, picking up on Nancy's reasoning.
"Right," the sergeant said. "And we can't possibly cover over twenty-six miles. It would take an army."
"Munk has dropped out of sight and changed identities once before," Nancy pointed out. "If he runs for it, he may be able to do it again."
Sergeant Stokes sighed and scratched his head. "We might be able to arrange to have a police scooter trail Annette along the course. I'll check with the racing association. I'll make my final decision in the morning."
"For now we'll put a discreet guard on Annette's and Brenda's rooms," Detective Zandt added.
Checking her watch, Nancy saw that it was after ten. "Let's tell George what's been
happening," she said to Bess.
They said good night to Stokes and Zandt, then went down a flight to their room. When they opened the door, the room was dark, but Nancy saw George stir in her bed.
"I was just drifting off," George said groggily, sitting up and turning on the bedside light. "Are you guys going to sleep already?"
Bess went over and sat on the edge of her cousin's bed. "We know who Annette's accomplice is," she told George in a rush. "Charles Mellor, except his name is really Calvin Munk."
"Slow down," George urged, holding up both palms. "Charles Mellor is the other half of Annette's conspiracy? You mean, Renee Clark's trainer? What did you say his real name is?"
Nancy quickly told George about the history of Calvin Munk and that he had written the note on the message board. "Now Munk has disappeared, and the police are afraid he might try to hide the truth about his past by killing Annette tomorrow."
"In the race?" George sat bolt upright, now fully awake. "But how? Where? There'll be thousands of people watching, and television crews and everything. Annette is going to be in front of a TV camera for most of the race. He'd be crazy to try anything."
"Maybe he is crazy," Bess suggested.
Nancy nodded thoughtfully. "One thing's for sure. He's getting more and more out of control. What he did to Gina shows that he's no longer going to worry about hurting people."
George's eyes widened. "How can we help?"
"Right now the police are taking care of everything," Nancy assured her. "The best thing for us to do is get some sleep. One way or another, tomorrow is going to be a full day."
The phone rang before seven the next morning, rousing Nancy from an uneasy sleep. As she got up from her cot, she became aware of the shower running and saw that George's bed was empty. Bess was still sound asleep.
Nancy stumbled to the phone and picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Nancy? This is Sergeant Stokes."
"What's up?" Nancy asked, instantly alert.
"No sign of Munk. That phone number in his room was a gardening supply place. A man with Munk's description bought a supply of a powerful pesticide. The active ingredient is nicotine."