Don't Look Twice

  There was something about that theory that didn’t sound quite right to Nancy, but she didn’t have time to figure it out right then. She leapt out of bed and threw her bathrobe over the oversized T-shirt that she had slept in. She had to call Denise. There would be lots of Masons in the Chicago phone book, though. How could Nancy find her telephone number?

  Ned would know. Nancy raced down the two flights of stairs to the phone in the kitchen.

  Nella Sampson was on the phone, laughing and drinking coffee. She waved to Nancy, then cupped her hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s my husband—looks like he’s going to be delayed in Detroit for a few more days on business. There’s juice on the table. I’ll be off in a minute, and we’ll whip up some breakfast.”

  “Nella, I know this is rude,” Nancy said breathlessly, “but it’s an emergency. I have to use the phone.”

  “Of course, Nancy.” Nella didn’t turn a hair. She just said into the mouthpiece, “I’ll call you back, Bob.” Then she hung up and handed Nancy the phone, looking at her expectantly.

  Nancy dialed directory assistance to get the switchboard number at the university. The switchboard operator was useless, though. He had no idea where the Wildcats were staying and didn’t seem to care when Nancy told him it was an emergency. “I need a room number,” he kept repeating. Finally Nancy hung up, frustrated.

  “What’s going on, Nancy? Can I help?” asked Nella Sampson.

  “I’ve got to get through to Ned at the guest dorm, but I don’t know which one it is,” Nancy explained.

  “Well, why don’t we take a ride over there? I’m sure someone on campus can help us out.”

  Nancy took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. She threw open the door to the room she was sharing with George.

  “George, I have to go find Ned. I’ll come back and get you later,” she said softly.

  George’s head was buried under the comforter, but Nancy heard a muffled, “Okay.”

  Nancy dressed quickly in jeans, a teal sweater, and a pair of flat-heeled boots. She found her coat and purse in the closet and practically threw herself down the stairs. Nella was waiting for her at the bottom.

  She took one look at Nancy and said, “We’ll take my sports car. It’ll get us there the fastest.”

  The two of them jumped into the tiny yellow sports car, and Nella, her face alight with excitement, gunned the engine. Nancy couldn’t suppress a smile. Nella was one of her favorites among her father’s friends. Fun-loving and adventurous, she seemed more like an eighteen-year-old girl than a forty-eight-year-old woman.

  “I used to teach at the university, so I know the fastest route,” Nella said, negotiating the little car out of the garage and onto the street. With a squeal of tires, they were off.

  As they drove, Nancy explained her thoughts about the kidnapping to Nella. Nella listened intently. “My goodness,” she kept saying. “My goodness. It’s all so hard to believe!”

  Once they got to the campus, Nella drove to the large dorm complex and stopped the car.

  “What now, detective?”

  Nancy frowned. She had no idea where to begin, but she was in luck. Someone in a maroon-and-white Eagles jacket was wheeling a bicycle across the frozen lawn.

  Nancy immediately recognized him. It was Tim Raphael, the player who had gotten thrown out of the game the night before. Nancy leaned out of the passenger window and called out to him.

  “Excuse me, Tim. Could you help us out?”

  Tim Raphael slowed his pace and sauntered up to the car. He looked very pleased with himself. “I bet he thinks we’re a couple of fans,” Nancy whispered to Nella.

  As soon as Tim got close enough to the car to recognize Nancy, his expression changed, though. He seemed almost shocked to see her, but he quickly recovered and pasted a friendly smile on his face. “I met you last night, didn’t I?” he asked.

  “Sort of. You came over to our table at Puccini’s. My name’s Nancy Drew, and this is Nella Sampson,” Nancy said.

  “Nice to meet you again,” Tim said, leaning down toward the passenger window. He fixed his gaze right on Nancy. His eyes were a fantastic shade of greenish blue, offset by curly black hair. “So what’s up?”

  Tim’s manner was making Nancy a little uneasy. At first he had seemed shocked to see her, and now he was acting as if they were old friends. What was the matter with him?

  “We’re looking for the dorm where the Wildcats are staying,” she said quickly.

  Tim pulled back a little, his gaze becoming wary again. “Well, I know they have a practice scheduled for ten o’clock in the main gym,” he said. “If you’re looking for your boyfriend, you can probably still catch him in his room. They’re all on the seventh floor of Harrigan House. That’s the low brick building at the far side of the dorm complex.”

  As they drove over to Harrigan House, Nancy wondered about Tim’s behavior. Why had he had such a strong reaction to seeing her? Could it be that he had been in on this kidnapping thing? It was certainly worth checking into. “I’ll have to ask Ned and George if they remember seeing Tim leave Puccini’s last night,” she murmured.

  “Why?” Nella asked curiously. Then her expression changed quite suddenly. “You think he had something to do with the kidnapping?”

  “He does play for the other team,” Nancy pointed out. “And he might know people who have a lot of money riding on the Eagles in the tournament—maybe even the people he was with last night in the restaurant.”

  “So, you think he’s trying to sabotage the tournament?” Nella shook her head. “I don’t agree, Nancy. Tim knew Ned was your boyfriend—you heard him mention it just now. If he’d been part of the kidnapping ring, he would have known that you were the girl he was after, not Denise.”

  Unless there’s more to Denise and Ned’s relationship than anyone is telling me, Nancy thought with a twinge of jealousy. She also knew Nella had a point about Tim.

  Still, his behavior toward her had been very odd. There was probably some other angle to the kidnapping, something she was overlooking. Nancy became a little annoyed with herself. It was too early in the case to be jumping to conclusions—she’d have to do some solid investigating first.

  They pulled up in front of Harrigan House, and Nella waited in the car while Nancy ran across the lawn and into the brick building. She found Ned in his room, zipping up his gym bag. He was surprised to see her.

  “I just called you, but George said you were out looking for me,” he said, giving her a quick kiss. “What’s up?”

  “I may have solved part of the puzzle,” Nancy announced. After she told him her theory about Denise being the intended victim, she watched the concern spread across his face.

  “I have her number right here,” said Ned, feeling for his wallet. He pulled a ripped piece of notebook paper out of the billfold. “We’ll have to use the hall phone.”

  Ned dialed the number, and Nancy stood by, nervously tying and untying a drawstring from her jacket. She hoped she was wrong—but then again, it might be better if she had guessed right. Better that they should know who the kidnappers were after. That way they’d have a real chance of preventing it.

  “Hello, may I speak to Denise, please?” Ned said after a moment. Nancy crowded in close to the phone, and Ned held the receiver a little toward her so they could both hear.

  “I’m sorry,” said a woman with a thin voice on the other end of the line. “Denise is gone.”

  Chapter

  Seven

  NANCY’S HEART SKIPPED a beat. Were they too late?

  “Gone? Where did she go?” Ned asked, his voice rising in pitch.

  “She’s—out of town for the weekend,” the woman replied, sounding oddly hesitant.

  “She is? Funny—she didn’t mention anything about leaving town to me. This is Ned Nickerson. I’m on the basketball team—”

  “This is Denise’s mother.” The woman sighed audibly. “Is there a message?”

  Ned looked at
Nancy questioningly. “Ask for a number where you can reach her,” Nancy mouthed.

  Ned nodded. “Well, I really need to talk to her. Is there any way I can reach her?” he persisted.

  “I’ll give her the message. She’s at her grandmother’s, but they’re, er—they’re out shopping. When Denise calls, I’ll make sure she gets your message. Goodbye, now.”

  Ned hung up the phone. “Boy, she couldn’t wait to get me off the line.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange that Denise just decided to go to her grandmother’s?” asked Nancy. “She did say she’d be seeing us over the weekend. I’m sure she wasn’t planning this trip last night.”

  “Well, Denise is impulsive—and I do know she’s very close to her grandmother. So I guess it’s possible,” Ned responded. He frowned. “Anyway, why would her mother lie?”

  “Maybe the kidnappers told her to. They wouldn’t want anyone to alert the police, after all,” Nancy pointed out.

  Ned looked a little annoyed. “That’s stretching it, isn’t it, Nan? No, I think we’re back to square one. You know, maybe your kidnapping was a practical joke after all.”

  “Ned!” Nancy said through clenched teeth.

  “Okay, forget I said that,” Ned said quickly. He glanced at his watch. “Look, I have to get to practice. I’ll be done at noon, and then I’m all yours. Here’s the dorm number—call me. Okay?”

  “Yeah, okay,” Nancy said. She turned away, trying not to let her disappointment show. Why wasn’t he taking this more seriously? And how did he know so much about Denise, her impulsiveness, and her grandmother? It sounded as if Ned knew Denise pretty well.

  After Nancy left the dorm, she slipped back into Nella’s sports car and slumped in her seat.

  “It looks like I was wrong about Denise,” she told Nella. “Ned thinks so, anyway.”

  “Hmmm,” said Nella. “You look a little discouraged. What do you say to a nice breakfast at the Museum Café and a quick look through the new Hans Pieters exhibit at the Amster Gallery?”

  Nancy sighed. She did have a case to crack, but at the moment she had no concrete leads. A late breakfast and a little culture might be exactly what the doctor ordered. It had made her feel left out when Ned and Denise had been able to discuss the art at Puccini’s so knowledgeably.

  Puccini’s! Nancy had forgotten all about wanting to talk to Mario. She did have a lead to follow, after all!

  “The gallery sounds great. But how do you feel about Italian food for breakfast?” Nancy asked Nella with a grin.

  Nella raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not my first choice, but I’ll try anything once.”

  They swung by the Sampsons’, where they picked up George and switched to Nancy’s Mustang. Then they drove over to the restaurant.

  Puccini’s was not even open for lunch yet when the threesome arrived. The door was unlocked, so they ventured inside. It was dark and quiet and hadn’t yet been transformed by lights, music, tablecloths, and people. No one was around except for a janitor who was sweeping up and a bartender who was washing and stacking glasses.

  “Can I help you?” the bartender asked, glancing at them. “We’re not open for lunch until noon.”

  “We’re looking for Mario,” said Nancy.

  “You here about the waitress job?” asked the bartender, looking interested for a moment.

  “No,” Nancy replied. “I just wanted to talk to Mario for a few minutes.”

  The bartender shrugged and slid a wineglass into a slot in the rack above his head. “He’s in the kitchen, but watch out. He’s on the warpath today. The sausage delivery hasn’t come yet, and the bread delivery that did come in was stale. So, if he starts throwing pans and meat cleavers around, don’t be surprised.”

  “I think I’ll wait out here,” George said. “He probably doesn’t want a whole crowd of starving women invading his kitchen.”

  “Okay. If he comes at me with a meat cleaver, I’ll scream and then you run in and save me.” Nancy waved. “Wish me luck.”

  “Oh, you two are being silly,” Nella began. Just then there was a loud crash in the kitchen, and someone started screaming in Italian.

  “You sure you don’t want to come back later?” the bartender asked with a sarcastic smile.

  “I would, except it’s really important,” Nancy told him. “I’ll be right back.”

  She pushed through the swinging kitchen door and immediately spotted Mario stirring a huge caldron of red sauce. He was standing next to the prep cook, practically yelling in his ear and gesturing madly with his free hand.

  “Why don’t you think? Use your head once in a while. Your mama tells me you’re smart, but all I see is you getting yourself in trouble.”

  The prep cook was tall, so he had to hunch over the cutting board to chop up mounds of tomatoes, peppers, and onions. Both of them had their backs to Nancy.

  “Excuse me, Mario?” Nancy asked.

  “Yeah, what do you want?” Mario turned and answered gruffly. He seemed a completely different person from the one who had served them dinner the night before.

  “My name is Nancy. Nancy Drew.”

  “Oh, ho, Miss Disappearing Act herself.” Immediately his genial manner returned. “So, you had fun with your big joke?”

  “That’s what I came to talk to you about,” said Nancy. “You see, it wasn’t a joke at all. I was kidnapped last night.”

  “So, you were kidnapped last night, and today you’re in Mario’s restaurant. What happened, they get the ransom money already?” Mario’s whole body shook with laughter. “That’s fast work.”

  Nancy could see he wasn’t taking her seriously. She took a deep breath. “Well, apparently they had the wrong girl,” she said.

  “So, they threw back the little fish and went for the big fish, huh?” Mario remarked. He chuckled. “I hope they went to a seafood restaurant!”

  Nancy could feel herself beginning to get annoyed. Mario was treating this like a game.

  “I’m trying to keep them from getting the big fish,” she said, forcing herself to remain in control. “As far as I know, they don’t have her yet.”

  “Ah, I see. And who might this big fish be?”

  “I don’t know. But you told me last night on the phone that someone had told you that my kidnapping was a big joke. Who was it who told you?”

  Mario’s mood subtly changed again. “What are you, a detective?” he asked with a sour grin.

  “As a matter of fact, I am,” Nancy retorted.

  “Owwww!” yelled the prep chef. He dropped his knife, clutching his hand. Nancy looked over at him.

  With a start, she saw that it was Tim Raphael. He must have been on his way to work when I stopped at the university, she guessed.

  She rushed over to look at his hand. Blood was flowing from the left index finger. Nancy quickly grabbed a clean towel and wet it.

  “Here, press this against the cut. Hold it tight,” she said briskly.

  “Thanks,” Tim mumbled. He quickly glanced at her with a mortified expression. Again, Nancy found herself drawn to his eyes. They were clear as blue crystal and tinged with sea green.

  “Let me take a look at your hand,” Mario said in a gruff voice. He took Tim’s hand and studied the cut, but Nancy could see that his face was anxious.

  “You’re going to live,” he announced after a moment. “Go downstairs, wash it with soap, and put a bandage on. I’ll finish up here.” He sighed, picking up the sharp knife.

  Nancy watched as Tim walked through the swinging doors of the kitchen. What is going on with him? she wondered. Why do I make him so nervous?

  Mario cleared his throat, and Nancy turned back to him. “You were about to tell me who told you about the practical joke,” she reminded him.

  Mario scowled. “I don’t remember.”

  He’s protecting someone, Nancy knew instantly. Tim? She thought about the conversation she had walked in on as she came into the kitchen. Mario was scolding Tim about
getting into trouble. He had sounded very protective of Tim.

  Tim keeps cropping up in this case, Nancy thought. It’s time I got some answers from him.

  Thanking Mario, Nancy left the kitchen. She made a beeline for the rest rooms and stopped at the men’s room door.

  “Tim,” she said, knocking. “Tim, can I talk to you?” She thought she heard water running, but no one responded to her question.

  “Tim, I’m coming in there to talk to you.” Still no answer. Nancy took a quick look around and then pushed open the men’s room door.

  A thin stream of water was dribbling into the sink, but the place was empty. She looked for feet in the stalls. No one.

  Nancy walked out to the phone area and glanced around. She noticed that the rear door leading into the alley was ajar.

  The feeling of déjà vu swept over her again. Less than twenty-four hours earlier the mysterious kidnappers had dragged her through that very door. Now Tim was gone.

  Her heart pounding, Nancy raced out to the alley. Had Tim been kidnapped, too? She was about to run inside and call for help when she happened to glance down at the far end of the alleyway.

  A figure on a bicycle was pedaling furiously away from Puccini’s. He was too far off for Nancy to make out any details, but she recognized his height and the cap of dark curly hair.

  It was Tim. He was evidently safe, but he was obviously running away from something—or someone. Nancy had a strong feeling that the person Tim was running away from was Nancy Drew!

  Chapter

  Eight

  THERE WAS NO WAY Nancy could catch up with Tim on foot, and by the time she got to her car, he’d be long gone. Gritting her teeth, Nancy went to join George and Nella. First Denise, now Tim—people kept disappearing on her. It was more than frustrating.

  George and Nella were sitting at one of the tables near the door. George had a couple of maraschino cherries on a napkin in front of her, the artificial red coloring dyeing the napkin pink.