063 Mixed Signals (12 page)

“I tripped him,” she announced proudly. “Are you okay? What happened in there?”

“Plenty,” Nancy said, “but I don’t have time to explain. We’re on a tight deadline.” She looked down at Josh. “Aren’t we, Josh?”

Josh shook his head, his chest still heaving. “I’m not going back in there. No way.”

“I’ve already called the police,” Nancy said. She squatted beside him and looked into his eyes. “You’re in enough trouble already, Josh. It’ll be a lot worse if that bomb goes off—especially if someone gets hurt.”

“A bomb!” Bess gasped. “When is it going to go off?”

“A few minutes before halftime,” Josh spat out, “and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Nancy wasn’t sure exactly how much time they had, but she knew they needed to work fast. “Is there any way to dismantle it?” she asked.

“Of course,” Josh replied. He sounded offended. “I made it myself. I know how to take it apart.” He looked from Nancy to Bess, a mixture of defiance and fear in his eyes. “But I’m not going to. My old man is really angry at me as it is. I’m not going to ruin this now.”

Nancy’s palms began to sweat. How was she going to get him to deactivate that bomb? “You seem to know a lot about explosives,” she said in what she hoped was an admiring tone.

“I’ve always been a science whiz,” Josh told her proudly as he climbed to his feet. “People think I’m a dimwit because I’m on probation. It’s not true.”

“I think you had to be pretty clever to plan all those things designed to hurt Randy Simpson,” Nancy said, shooting Josh a dazzling smile. “The fire, the loose weights, the sleeping pills—even the float. You managed to pull them all off without getting caught.”

“Some of them were easy,” Josh said arrogantly. “With a little kerosene, that platform turned into a tinderbox. People thought Kristin started it with her baton, but that was an illusion. I just had to toss a match from the side of the stage.

“The other things were easy, too,” Josh continued. “Carrie never even missed her wildcat costume. She keeps it in a closet near the girls’ locker room. It was a cinch to borrow and return it without her knowing. And as for the guys, well—none of them would ever suspect a teammate of rigging the float or drugging a fellow player.”

“But I thought those guys were your friends.” Bess said indignantly.

Suddenly Josh’s face took on the same sad expression Nancy had glimpsed in the locker room. “I don’t have any friends,” he mumbled. “When your father plunks you down in a new school every year, you don’t have time to get attached.”

Nancy felt sorry for him, but she couldn’t get the ticking bomb out of her mind. If she didn’t talk some sense into Josh, they could all be blown to bits.

“Josh, there’s no easy way out of this thing. But if you dismantle the bomb, it’ll be a start in the right direction. Please don’t let anyone else get hurt.”

Josh studied the floor. When he spoke, Nancy had to lean close to him in order to hear. “Oh, all right,” he mumbled. His shoulders slumped forward as she led the way back into the locker room and opened the door to the boiler room.

“Stand back,” he instructed Nancy and Bess. “I know what I’m doing, but you can never be too careful.”

From a measured distance the girls watched as Josh cut two wires and removed the clock. “That’ll do it,” Josh told them.

Nancy let out a long sigh of relief. At last that dreadful ticking had stopped!

She and Bess followed as Josh took the dismantled bomb over to a bench by the lockers and sat down heavily. Nancy couldn’t help asking, “Would it really have been worth it, Josh?”

Josh buried his face in his hands. “Dad was afraid you were getting too close. He didn’t like the questions you kept asking. That’s why we staged that fake attack at the library.”

“I don’t get it.” Bess was confused. “Why do you and your father want the Wildcats to lose?”

“Money,” Nancy answered for him.

Josh nodded. “Dad’s got a gambling deal going with a hotshot bookie. When I’m quarterbacking and Dad is calling the plays, we can usually control the score of a game. The point spread is set in advance. I just make sure our team finishes within the predicted spread.”

“Gambling!” Bess gasped. “How awful!”

“But when Josh was put on academic probation, it ruined their whole scheme,” Nancy pointed out.

“If Randy had agreed to throw the game when Dad made those phone threats,” Josh told the girls, “everything would’ve been fine. But that didn’t work, so Dad figured we could hurt him enough to take him off the roster. A third-stringer would never score against Russell’s defense.” Josh shook his head sadly. “Too bad the guy refused to cave in.”

“Maybe you can fill in a blank for me,” Nancy said to him. “I saw the point spread your father bet for this game, six to ten. How could he be sure Randy would score in the right range?”

Josh grimaced. “He couldn’t. Dad convinced our bookie to change the bet. We were going for just a straight loss.”

“I still don’t understand why you set that bomb,” Bess put in. “What’s the use of blowing up an empty locker room?”

Josh clamped his mouth shut. For a second it seemed as if he might bolt, but then he said, “Oh, what’s the use. I might as well tell you. The locker room wasn’t going to be empty. Dad’s going to take Randy out of the game before halftime and send him here to rest up. The bomb was supposed to go off when Randy was in here and the rest of the players were still on the field—at exactly three thirty-five.”

“And kill Randy?” Bess was horrified.

“None of the other threats worked,” Josh said helplessly. “If Emerson wins today, my father will lose all our savings.” He lowered his voice and added, “And more. This bookie has promised to make us pay—in blood.”

“An explosion in the locker room will raise a lot of suspicion,” Nancy pointed out.

“Not when the bomb is attached to a boiler that’s been acting up for months.”

Just then the outside door to the locker room opened and Ned rushed in, scowling. “I didn’t get anywhere with Dean Jarvis. He insists that he can report only to the police, said something about confidentiality. I told him it was important but—” He broke off as he noticed the dismantled bomb on the bench next to Josh.

“That’s okay,” Nancy told him. “We’ve found some answers on our own. And we just stopped Josh from blowing up Randy.”

Nancy looked at her watch. “Uh-oh! It’s almost three-thirty. Coach Mitchell will be sending Randy in here any second. I have to get outside to make sure the other half of this crime team doesn’t slip past us. Bess can fill you in on what’s happened.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a hand?” Ned asked.

“Stay here and keep an eye on Josh until the police get here,” Nancy instructed as she backed out the door.

In the stadium, Nancy stood at the front of the bleachers, behind the players’ bench. With just over a minute left in the first half, the score was ten to six in favor of Emerson. Way to go, Randy! Nancy thought with a smile.

Nancy checked her watch as the coach called a time-out: 3:31. Just four minutes until the intended explosion time. Coach Mitchell motioned Randy off the field and spoke with him briefly. Nancy wasn’t surprised when Randy nodded at the coach, stripped off his helmet, and started jogging down the path toward the locker room.

As Randy passed her, Nancy shivered to think what might have happened to him if she hadn’t stopped Josh in time. She waited until Randy had disappeared, then walked onto the edge of the playing field and joined Coach Mitchell.

“Coach,” she said firmly, “you’re needed in the locker room right away.”

Nancy could see a flash of annoyance in his eyes as he peered down at her. “I can’t leave the field now! My team is in the middle of play.”

“But it’s an emergency,” Nancy persisted. “It’s Josh—I’m afraid he’s been hurt.”

For a moment the coach froze. He stole a quick glance up at the clock on the scoreboard, which now read 3:33.

“My son—” Coach Mitchell said in a horrified voice.

Before Nancy could say anything more, the coach turned and tossed his clipboard to the ground. “I have to save him,” he mumbled, then scrambled down the path toward the locker room.

Nancy followed as quickly as she could, catching up with the coach just as he threw open the door and bounded inside.

“What!” Coach Mitchell bellowed, skidding to a halt.

Looking over his shoulder, Nancy saw that the police had arrived. A tall, lanky officer was handcuffing Josh.

“Why, you little—” The coach spun around, his face mottled red and purple.

A moment later he lunged at Nancy, his large hands grabbing for her throat.

Chapter Eighteen

N
ANCY REARED BACK
in shock, and the coach’s hands closed over thin air. With lightning speed, she grabbed one of his arms and twisted it behind his back. A moment later the tall officer was clapping a pair of cuffs around Coach Mitchell’s wrists.

“
You
did it!” the coach sputtered, glaring at Nancy and struggling against the officer. “You turned these people against me!”

“That’s not true,” she said, facing him squarely. “You were using the Wildcats—manipulating the team’s performance so that you could make money.”

The coach let his gaze drop to the floor. “I have nothing to say,” he muttered.

“It’s too late for that, Dad,” Josh said wearily. “She’s already guessed everything. It’s all over now.”

“I’ve never been so scared in my life!” Bess insisted. “Nancy just pointed at the bomb and told him to defuse it! Can you believe that?”

Ned slipped an arm around Nancy’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Sounds pretty exciting to me.”

“For the moment I’m just glad it’s over,” Nancy said, smiling up at him.

She and Ned were sitting on the hood of her Mustang in the parking lot outside the stadium. Alumni and students were gathered in clusters for the traditional post-game tailgate party. Even though Emerson had lost, spirits were high.

“And all this was going on while we were playing the first half?” Jerry asked. “Sounds like the real action was happening off the field.”

Bess nodded. “By the time you guys filed in at halftime, the Mitchells had already been taken to the police station.”

“Dean Jarvis tells me that charges have been filed against Josh and his father,” Ned told Nancy. He rubbed a hand over her shoulder to warm her up. “They’re gone now, and I can’t say that I’ll miss them, even if Josh was a great quarterback.”

“But you’ve still got an honest quarterback on the roster,” she said.

Ned followed her gaze to a nearby Jeep, where Randy was digging into a cooler to find sodas for two cheerleaders. “That’s true. And it looks like Danielle hasn’t tarnished his reputation completely,” he added, chuckling.

Nancy laughed. “He really did do a pretty good job in today’s game. Even though the Wildcats lost, they scored seventeen points. The Pirates only beat them by three.”

“Hey, the dogs are ready.” Hopping off the car, he went over to the portable charcoal grill that he and Jerry had set up.

“Good,” Bess said, “because I’m famished.”

Ned returned with a platter of hot dogs loaded with mustard and onions, and they all dug in.

Nancy had just taken a bite of one when she noticed some familiar faces a few cars over.

“Hi, Nancy,” Susannah Carlson called. She looked cute in a pair of tight black jeans and a sweatshirt with
Emerson
emblazoned on the front.

Nancy waved. “Congratulations on the big win,” she told Zip. He was wearing jeans and a red sweater. Tamara was clinging to his arm.

“Hey, when I make a promise, I deliver,” Zip said with a wide grin.

“We heard about the Mitchells,” Tamara told Nancy, “about how you discovered that they were the ones trying to hurt Randy. I don’t know how you figured it out. They seemed like clean-cut, all-American football heroes.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Nancy pointed out.

“Hey, Susannah,” Ned called over from Nancy’s Mustang, “nice sweatshirt.”

Susannah glanced down at it and blushed. “Oh, I guess you could say that I’ve come to terms with good old Emerson this weekend. I realized that I’m just bitter because I never got my college diploma. So I’ve decided to go back to school—in Chicago. And this time I’m going to finish.”

“That’s great,” Nancy told her.

“Well, good luck,” Ned said.

“Thank you, Ned.” Susannah smiled. “And if you folks ever need any special spices, call me. Susannah’s Spices. I’m in the Yellow Pages.”

Ned linked his fingers through Nancy’s and gave her hand a squeeze. “Thanks, but with Nancy around, life is spicy enough!”