Then Deirdre snapped. “It’s a breach of contract if you don’t show up. So unless you’re prepared to pay big-time, you’re going to camp.”
Deirdre’s sarcasm and cruel tone wasn’t lost on Mallory. Her mouth was a grim line as she glared at her new manager.
“Okay, I’ll go,” she finally said.
Deirdre was already on the phone with Amy as Mallory walked us to the door.
“Do you think someone around here could be after us?” Mallory asked in a low voice. “Like maybe a crazy fan?”
“I hope not,” I said. “But we’re going to do everything we can to find out what happened to your sisters.”
Mallory waved bye as we walked away from Casa Bonita. I felt bad leaving her alone with Deirdre.
“So what do you think?” Bess asked.
“I think that if a bunch of twelve-year-old girls are the sisters’ only stalkers,” George said, “we don’t have much to worry about.”
“Then who should we worry about?” Bess asked.
My thoughts turned to Amy. “I know you don’t think it’s a big deal,” I said. “But I keep thinking about Amy’s yellow sunburst tattoo.”
“As long as you don’t think too much,” George said. “I’ve got to run now. I promised my neighbor I’d check out her crashed laptop.”
“I’ve got to pick up those new tools for my dad,” Bess said.
And I’ve got to see what I can find out about Amy Paloma, I thought.
After good-byes, I headed straight home to my room. With Dad playing golf and Hannah running errands, I had the whole house to myself.
I sat at my desk and browsed the web for anything I could dig up on Amy. All I found was current news, like Amy’s books and TV appearances, nothing that connected Amy with Roland or his cult. There was a site for Camp Athena, including Amy’s mission statement. It was all about empowerment, self-esteem, and the importance of good role models. Ha!
“Some role model Amy’s turning out to be,” I told myself.
Leaning back in my chair, I gazed out the window and saw someone standing in our driveway, looking straight up at my window. It wasn’t Dad, and it definitely wasn’t Hannah. It was some guy wearing a white jacket and a fedora-style hat.
A breeze suddenly fluttered the sheer curtain in front of the open window, and when it fell back in place, the man was gone!
I felt a chill, but not from the breeze. It was the strange feeling I got about that guy.
Weird, I thought.
I was about to go back to my computer when my phone rang. Still creeped out by the mysterious figure, I was glad it was Bess.
“I heard from Maggie again, Nance,” Bess said, her voice flat.
“Don’t tell me she still hates camp,” I said.
“She does, but that’s not why she called,” Bess said. “She told me that Mallory never showed up to talk to the campers.”
Never showed up? The phone shook in my hand as I imagined the sinister possibilities. First Mia, then Mandy—and now Mallory!
“Wait,” I said, trying to stay calm. “Maybe Mallory canceled. She didn’t want to go in the first place.”
“She didn’t cancel,” said Bess. “Maggie said that when the campers asked about Mallory, Amy just said she had no idea where she was.”
“We’ve got to let Deirdre know,” I said.
“I already did,” Bess said. “She texted me that she was going to speak to Chief McGinnis.”
“Well, it’s about time!” I declared.
“Deirdre wants us to meet her at the station too,” Bess said. “So we can all talk to the chief.”
“Whatever we can do to help,” I said. “Tell George to go to your house. I’ll pick you guys up in about ten minutes.”
I hung up, grabbed my keys, and ran outside to my car. I backed out of our driveway and turned up Bluff Street. From the corner of my eye I saw a red light flash on my dashboard. It was the low brake fluid light.
How did that happen? I wondered.
My car was a hybrid. The generator handled much of the braking, preserving brake fluid.
Making a mental note to get it checked, I kept driving. I made all the traffic lights and turned onto Vernon Street, where the Marvin house stood. I could see Bess and George in the distance. They were hanging out in the driveway, talking to Mr. Marvin.
I stepped on the brakes to slow down. The car kept moving—at full speed. Glancing down at the red light, I saw it still flashing. The brake fluid wasn’t just low—it was empty!
Not only couldn’t I slow down—I couldn’t stop!
GRILLED TO OBJECTION
“HELP!” I screamed. I slammed on the brakes over and over, with no luck. The only way I could stop the car now was to crash!
Bracing myself, I gripped the wheel, turning it all the way to the right. With a screech, the car swerved to the side, landing in a deep ditch.
“Nancy!” Bess’s voice shouted as my hand shakily turned off the engine. Looking up, I saw her, George, and Mr. Marvin racing down the block toward my car.
“Are you okay, Nancy?” Mr. Marvin asked. He stepped into the ditch, opened the door, and helped me out.
“I’m fine . . . fine,” I said. “A little shaky, but okay.”
“We saw your car go out of control,” George said. “What happened, Nance?”
“The low brake fluid light flashed on,” I said. “Next thing I knew I couldn’t stop.”
Bess and her dad knew a thing or two about fixing cars. While Mr. Marvin checked out my brakes, Bess said, “Even if the light was on, you’d still have enough line pressure left.”
“Not if the brakes were cut,” Mr. Marvin’s voice said.
“Did you say cut?” I cried.
“I hate to tell you this, Nancy, but someone cut the tubing on your brakes,” Mr. Marvin said.
Someone had tampered with my brakes?
“Any idea who it was?” George asked me.
I was about to say I didn’t know—until I remembered the strange figure in my driveway.
“There was some strange guy hanging out in our driveway before,” I said. “My car was parked outside, so he could have gotten to it.”
“What did he look like?” George asked.
“He wore a white jacket and a hat,” I said. “If it was him, how did he do it?”
“The best way is with . . . wire cutters,” Bess said. Then her eyes widened as she waved us away from the car and her dad. “You guys—remember how I told you that my dad’s wire cutters were missing from his toolshed?”
“So the guy who stole the wire cutters also cut Nancy’s brakes?” George asked.
The thought made my skin creep. “We already think someone is after the sisters,” I said. “Why would someone want me?”
“Because you’re a detective?” Bess suggested with a shrug. “And he doesn’t want you to find the sisters?”
“Right,” I said glumly.
We stopped talking as Mr. Marvin came over.
“I can replace the tubing, Nancy,” he said. “I can also get Charlie Adams and his emergency truck to pull the car out of the ditch.”
“Thanks, Mr. Marvin,” I said.
“But if this was an act of vandalism,” he said sternly, “it’s up to you to go to the police right away.”
“We were just about to go to the police,” I said. “We’ll definitely tell them everything.”
“ASAP,” Mr. Marvin reiterated, his face grave.
We watched as Bess’s father walked back to the house for his tools.
“I guess we’ll be taking your car, Bess,” I said, gazing sadly at my poor hybrid. I was happy to be alive, but worried about this stranger in my driveway. Who was he? If he was trying to stop us—me—from finding the sisters, what would he do next?
Once in Bess’s car, we tried to figure out everything we knew so far.
“So a guy wearing a white jacket was creeping around outside your house,” George told me from the backseat. “
Who wears a jacket when it’s eighty-seven degrees?”
That was a tough question. Everyone we’d seen in town lately had on sleeveless or short-sleeved shirts. Everyone except . . .
“Mr. Safer!” I said. “He wears a clean white smock every day in his cheese shop.”
“Do you still think Mr. Safer had something to do with the sisters going missing?” Bess asked.
“Even if he was upset with Mandy, Mallory, and Mia,” George said, “why would he want to hurt you?”
“Like we said before—to keep me from finding out the truth,” I said. “Mr. Safer knows I’m a detective too.”
We were almost at the police station when Bess said, “My dad’s tools were stolen before Mr. Safer asked the sisters to be in his play. What reason would he have to do away with them then?”
“Good point,” I said, though I was still pretty suspicious of Mr. Safer’s weird behavior. And his white jacket.
Bess parked in front of the station. We stepped out of the car, and there was Deirdre Shannon coming out of the building. She looked at us, but kept walking.
“Deirdre, where are you going?” I called. “Aren’t we all going to speak to Chief McGinnis?”
“I’ve said everything I need to say,” Deirdre said, brushing past us.
“Okay,” George said when Deirdre was out of earshot. “Can someone tell me what that was all about?”
“It’s just Deirdre being Deirdre.” I sighed. “Come on. We don’t need her in order to speak to Chief McGinnis.”
The air-conditioned police station felt great as we walked inside. An officer behind the front desk told us to go directly into the chief’s office.
“Hello, Chief McGinnis,” I said as we filed in.
“I’ve been expecting you, girls,” Chief McGinnis said in his usual gruff voice. “Have a seat.”
Three chairs were facing the chief’s desk. I sat between Bess and George, eager to talk about the Casabians.
“Deirdre probably told you about Mandy, Mallory, and Mia, Chief McGinnis,” I said. “We suspect foul play. You see, one day when I went to their house, there was carbon—”
“I’d like to ask a few questions first, Nancy,” Chief McGinnis cut in.
“Sure,” I said, surprised at the interruption.
“Shoot,” George said, then quickly added, “I mean—ask away.”
The chief looked down at his notes and said, “Is it true you told Ned Nickerson that if you never saw the Casabian sisters again, it would be fine with you?”
Silence.
Why was the chief asking us that?
“You mean . . . when Ned was interviewing us for the Bugle,” I said slowly.
“I said that to Ned,” George said. “I was only kidding.”
“How did Deirdre know about that?” I asked.
“Ned told Deirdre, apparently,” Chief McGinnis said. “He thought it was funny, but Deirdre did not.”
While the chief was focused on his notes, I caught my friends’ eyes. What was going on?
“Nancy,” Chief McGinnis said, looking up. “You saw your boyfriend Ned kayaking with Mia Casabian a few days ago. How did that make you feel?”
Now I was really confused. Shouldn’t the chief be asking questions about the sisters? Or about any suspicious characters we might have seen? But I wasn’t about to argue with the chief of police.
“I was upset,” I said, still confused. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Chief McGinnis looked from me to Bess to George.
“Isn’t it also true that a certain Camp Athena scheduled you girls to speak, but then you were replaced with the Casabian sisters?” he continued.
“What does that have to do with—” George started to say before Bess spoke up.
“That’s right,” Bess said. “Amy decided to ask the sisters instead of us.”
“How did that make you feel?” Chief McGinnis asked. “Angry? Jealous?”
Okay. Now I thought I knew what this was all about.
“Excuse, me, Chief McGinnis,” I said. “Are you implying we have something to do with the Casabian sisters’ disappearance?”
“I’m only following through on some concerns Ms. Shannon had,” Chief McGinnis said, nodding down at his notes.
“Don’t tell me we’re suspects!” Bess exclaimed.
“I prefer to use the term ‘persons of interest’ right now,” Chief McGinnis said.
“Oh, man.” George groaned under her breath.
I was too stunned to speak. I’d always known that Chief McGinnis didn’t like me and my friends to take on the same cases he was working on—but to believe Deirdre over us? Unreal!
“We had nothing to do with the disappearance of the Casabian sisters,” I blurted. “Nevertheless, we refuse to answer any more questions without the presence of my dad—I mean, our lawyer.”
“I’m only doing my job, girls,” Chief McGinnis said, shutting his writing pad. “That’s enough for today.”
For today? Did the chief mean there was more questioning to come? The thought made me sick.
“You didn’t tell him about your brakes, Nancy,” Bess said on our way out of the police station. “Or the strange guy in your driveway.”
“Why bother?” I scoffed. “Thanks to Deirdre, Chief McGinnis isn’t exactly on our side.”
“Oh, but he’s just doing his job,” George said sarcastically. “Give me a break.”
“Well, it’s time we did our job,” I said. “We have to find out what happened to Mandy, Mallory, and Mia—to save them and ourselves.”
CHILLING ENCOUNTER
“You were right not to answer any more questions without a lawyer present,” Dad said.
I nodded, not feeling much better. It was only a few hours after our “interrogation.” Bess, George, and I sat in my living room while Dad advised us on what to do next.
It was handy having a lawyer for a dad, but I still wished we didn’t need one.
“What do you think will happen, Mr. Drew? How serious is this?” Bess asked, wringing the fringe on a sofa pillow nervously.
Dad said calmly, “I don’t think Deirdre’s word is enough to get you into trouble, but I will defend you should this go any further.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said.
“I can’t believe this is happening, Mr. Drew,” George said. “We bust crimes, we don’t commit them.”
“Of course,” Dad said. “To be on the safe side, I wouldn’t get involved with looking for the Casabian sisters right now.”
I stared at my dad. He hardly ever discouraged us from working on any cases.
“Why, Dad?” I asked.
“You don’t want to get on Chief McGinnis’s bad side, that’s why,” Dad said as he stood up from his chair. “Especially now.”
We kept our mouths shut until Dad left the room.
“What are we going to do?” George asked.
“We’re not stopping work on this case,” I said.
“You heard what your dad said, Nancy,” Bess said. “We can’t get on the chief’s bad side—especially since we’re suspects!”
“You mean ‘persons of interest,’” I said with a smirk. “We’re already on his bad side, so what have we got to lose?”
“Um . . . our freedom?” George said.
I shook my head and said, “We’ll be extra careful not to cross paths with the chief or any of the police officers.”
“Where do we start?” Bess asked.
“I’d like to investigate Safer’s Cheese Shop for clues,” I said. “I just can’t get his white jacket off my mind or how upset he was about his play.”
“Yeah, but it’s after seven o’clock on a Saturday night,” George said. “If the store’s closed, how will we get inside?”
I leaned toward Bess and George and whispered. “I still have the keys Mr. Safer gave me when I worked there. He fired me so suddenly, I forgot to give them back.”
George cocked her head as she studied me.
?
??What?” I asked.
“The way you said ‘fired,’” George said. “By any chance, are you angry at Mr. Safer because he replaced you with Mandy?”
“Omigosh, George, now you sound like Chief McGinnis!” I said. “I’m not bitter, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Just a thought,” she said.
Charlie Adams had returned my car an hour ago. Mr. Marvin had been able to replace the tubing and get the brakes to work like new—although I was relieved when we made it safely to Main Street.
“I didn’t tell my dad about the cut brakes,” I admitted as we got out of the car. “He’s got enough to worry about.”
“What about your dad, Bess?” George asked. “Do you think he made the connection between the missing wire cutters and Nancy’s cut brakes?”
“Probably not,” Bess said. “He’s a great mechanic—but a detective he’s not.”
I expected the door to Safer’s to be locked, and it was. As I fumbled through my pocket for the keys, Bess whispered, “I know this sounds crazy, but I feel like someone is watching us.”
“Whoever it is,” I said, turning the key in the lock, “I hope it’s not Chief McGinnis.”
The door swung open.
It was still somewhat light out, so we didn’t need to turn on the store’s lights and draw attention to ourselves
“What are we looking for?” George asked. “Clues or the Casabians?”
“Both,” I said.
Bess pointed to the empty glass case. “Where’s all the cheese?”
“Mr. Safer stores it in that fridge at the end of the day,” I said, pointing to a large stainless-steel door in the back of the shop. On the wall next to it was the thermostat.
“Does he freeze it?” Bess asked.
“He can if he sets the thermostat low enough,” I said. “But it’s usually set at refrigerator temps.”
“That’s a lot bigger than your typical fridge,” Bess said. “I’ll bet all three of us could fit inside easily.”
“What does a walk-in fridge have to do with the missing sisters?” George asked.
Plenty! I thought as it suddenly clicked.
“You guys,” I said. “If the fridge could fit three of us, it could fit the three of them.”