Danger on Parade (9 page)

Tears were streaming down Bess's face. “Greg t-told me that he can't see m-me anymore because no one thinks the grand marshal of the parade should be seen with the lead sabotage suspect!”

“That's awful!” Nancy said. She grabbed their coats as they were handed over, tipped the woman, then hurried from the club with Bess. Within moments, they had hailed a cab, and Nancy gave the driver her aunt's address.

Nancy put her arm around Bess's shoulders. “I know it must be hard to have Greg treat you so terribly,” Nancy said. “First thing tomorrow I'm
going to call Jules and find out if the formula we found in Louis Clark's office really is for Forever. If it is, that's a good start to proving to everyone that you're innocent.”

Bess nodded, but she still didn't look very hopeful. For the rest of the ride back to Eloise's apartment, she remained silent. Once Nancy let them in the front door with her key, Bess headed straight for the bedroom.

“You girls are home early,” Eloise said, stepping out of her bedroom in her nightgown and robe. “Bess, Greg just called.”

Bess's mouth dropped open in amazement. “He did?”

Eloise nodded. “He said he wants to meet you, alone, at the parade studio, so you can talk things over and clear everything up.”

“The parade studio?” Nancy echoed, frowning. “But he was just at Inverted. That's nowhere near Brooklyn.”

“I'm sure he said the parade studio,” Eloise insisted. “It does seem rather strange, though.”

Bess was already hurrying back toward the door. “Maybe it's not so strange,” she said. “Maybe he thought of something that might lead to the real culprit,” she said excitedly. “Yes, that
must
be it. I've got to get over there.”

“Bess, wait! This could be dangerous,” Nancy cautioned, but she could see her friend wasn't going to change her mind. “Well, I'm going to go
with you, then. There's no way you're going to that warehouse all by yourself.”

“Be careful, girls,” Eloise said. “Nancy, your father would have my head if he knew I was letting you go. If you two aren't back here in an hour and a half, I'm calling the police.”

Nancy kissed her aunt. “Don't worry, we'll be home before then.”

• • •

“Bess, I think I should go inside with you,” Nancy said, staring out the cab window at the entrance to the Mitchell's warehouse. The street was deserted, and she didn't see the guard or Greg anywhere.

“No, Nancy. Greg said he wanted to see me alone,” Bess said firmly. “I'll be fine.”

Nancy frowned. “I'll give you five minutes,” she agreed reluctantly. “But then I'm coming in to check on you.”

Bess agreed, then got out of the cab and hurried to the entrance. Nancy was surprised to see that she had no difficulty opening the door. Could Greg have left it propped open for her? But then, how had
he
gotten in? Had Neil lent him his Mitchell's ID? Had he talked the guard into letting him in?

The more Nancy thought about it, the more concerned she became. The guard didn't appear. After a few minutes, she couldn't stand waiting any longer. After instructing the taxi driver to
wait for her, Nancy got out and hurried toward the warehouse entrance. She paused outside the door, cocking her head to one side.

In the distance she could make out the faint sounds of sirens. The high-pitched whine grew louder, and moments later two police cars were barreling down the street toward the warehouse, their lights flashing. A black sedan was right behind them.

Nancy froze with fear as all three cars screeched to a stop at the curb in front of her. Jill jumped out of the black car, spoke briefly to the four officers, then led them into the warehouse.

“Jill! What are you doing here?” Nancy asked.

“I could ask you the same thing, but I don't have time, Nancy,” Jill said. She quickly led the officers through the door and down the long hallway to the parade studio.

Nancy followed, a feeling of dread welling up inside of her. “Jill, I think you should know—”

Before Nancy could say anything more, Jill opened the door to the studio, and she and the officers rushed in. Nancy gasped as she stepped in after them.

The parade studio was bathed in light. Bess was standing in the center of the warehouse, her eyes wide with terror.

Half a dozen balloons were laid out on the floor around her—slashed to pieces!

I
KN-KNOW THIS
l-looks bad,” Bess stuttered. “When I got here, the b-balloons were already slashed. Honest!”

Nancy hurried over to Bess and put an arm around her friend. “We just arrived a few minutes ago,” Nancy explained to Jill and the police, one of whom was the detective who had questioned Jill about the fire. “Bess got a message to meet Greg Willow here.”

Detective Green crossed his arms over his chest and glanced around. “Well, I don't see him, do you? All I know is that once again we've got a problem with the parade, and once again Bess Marvin is in the middle of it.” He took a notebook from his back pocket and flipped it open. “All right, why don't you tell me the whole story?”

While Bess told Detective Green what had happened, Nancy went over to Jill, who was examining the slashed balloons. Jill's face was a mask of anger. “Where's the guard?” she snapped, looking around the cavernous room. “Why didn't he stop this?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Nancy said. “He wasn't outside when Bess and I arrived. Listen, about Bess—”

“I can't even look at her anymore, Nancy,” Jill cut in, lowering her voice. “I know you think she's innocent, but she's been connected to almost every attack on the parade. I'm sorry, but I just don't trust her.”

The two of them turned as one of the officers called out urgently from a float on the other side of the studio, “Detective! Over here!”

Nancy and the others hurried over to the young officer. He was bending over a uniformed guard who was bound and gagged.

“Oh, no!” Bess exclaimed, her hands flying to her face. “Is he okay?”

The officer quickly untied the guard and removed his gag. The guard looked surprised to see so many people in the parade studio. “I'm okay, except for this nasty bump,” he reported, gingerly rubbing the back of his head.

“I don't know how it happened, Ms. Johnston,” the guard went on. “I came in to make my rounds, and someone beaned me on the head
from behind. I don't know who it was or how he got in here.” He glanced at his watch. “That was about fifteen minutes ago. When I woke up just now, I was tied up, and you all were here.”

“We're just lucky whoever it was left the door open,” Jill said, with a critical glance at Bess. “If the door is left open too long, it triggers an alarm in the police precinct. By chance, I was on my way over here to pick up some papers I needed, and I saw the police pulling up ahead of me. It was a lucky coincidence.” She glared at Bess.

“Wait a minute. You don't seriously think Bess did this?” Nancy said defensively. “We weren't even
here
fifteen minutes ago. Can't you see? Someone else did all this, then arranged the phony message so that Bess would come down here. The door was open when we got here. Someone
wanted
Bess to get in so she would get caught. Call my aunt. She's the one who took the message.”

Nancy looked beseechingly at Jill, but Jill's expression still remained stony. Detective Green didn't look convinced, either. He finished taking Bess's statement, while the other officers searched the parade studio.

“My men didn't find a knife or any other sharp object Ms. Marvin could have used to slash the balloons. There's no sign of forced entry, either,” Detective Green reported to Jill twenty minutes later. “We did find a small piece of cardboard
taped over the door so that the lock couldn't engage.” He nodded at Bess. “Do you want to press charges for breaking and entering?”

Bess grabbed Nancy's arm, her eyes wide with fear. Jill hesitated a moment, frowning, before she answered. “That won't be necessary.”

Nancy was relieved when the police finally told the two of them they could leave. The two girls hurried outside to their waiting taxi.

“Nancy, I could've gone to jail tonight!” Bess wailed. “Why is someone doing this to me?”

“More importantly,
who
is doing this to you?” Nancy said, giving Bess's arm a squeeze. “The real saboteur wants to make sure you get caught, instead of him or her. And I seriously doubt that that person is Greg Willow. Whoever called just used Greg's name.”

Bess wiped at her eyes and looked at Nancy. “Louis Clark?” she suggested.

“Or his connection at Mitchell's,” Nancy added. “A lot of people from the store were at Inverted. Anyone could have seen you with Greg and known there's something intense between you. After we left, they could have left the message for you and then gone to the parade studio and knocked out the guard and slashed the balloons.”

Bess reached into her bag, took out a tissue, and blew her nose. “What about Howard Langley? He was at Inverted tonight, too.”

Nancy let out a sigh. “Maybe, but we can't pin
the sabotage on him
or
Louis Clark without more concrete proof.” Her next words were swallowed by a huge yawn. “What we need is a good night's sleep. Maybe in the morning something will come to us.”

• • •

“There's Jules,” Nancy said Wednesday morning as she and Bess entered a coffee shop near Mitchell's Department Store.

“I hope he can prove Louis Clark really
is
stealing Mitchell's exclusive scent,” Bess said. “Then maybe Louis will admit to the other sabotage, too, and my Thanksgiving will be saved.”

“With any luck, the real culprit will be in jail before the day is out,” Nancy said.

“Hi!” Jules greeted them as the two girls slipped into the booth opposite him. After the three of them ordered coffee and doughnuts, he leaned over the table. “I couldn't believe it when you called this morning about Louis Clark. So did he really steal our perfume?”

“You're the one who can tell us the answer to that question,” Nancy said.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the photocopy of the formulas she'd found in Louis's office. Jules had a file with him. He opened it and looked back and forth from the file to the sheet.

“Let me see,” he said, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Number three—this is it!” he yelled.

“Are you sure?” Bess asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

Jules nodded his head adamantly. “Positive. It's an exact match to the formula for Forever.” He pounded his fist on the table. “Somehow Louis Clark got his hot little hands on a sample of our perfume! That's about the only way to re-create the formula exactly.”

“We think that's why he broke into the lab on Monday,” Nancy said. “We found a handkerchief with his initials on it inside.”

“I don't know,” Jules said. “It's virtually impossible to determine the formula overnight, even with a sample. Maybe he actually found the formula in the file,”

“Maybe,” Nancy said. “I'm going over to Louis's office right now to confront him.”

“Good idea,” Jules agreed. “I'd go with you, but I've got a doctor's appointment.” He gestured to the sling protecting his left arm. “Let's meet back here in an hour so you can fill me in.”

• • •

“I'm sorry, girls, but you need an appointment,” Louis Clark's secretary said firmly.

Nancy saw Bess's disappointed look, but she wasn't about to give up that easily. “I thought I
had
an appointment,” Nancy lied, raising her voice. If she made a big enough stink, maybe that would work.

“Yes,” Bess chimed in loudly. “It's very important that we see Mr. Clark
now.”

“Well, you can't. I—”

Just then the door to Louis Clark's office opened, and Louis appeared. “What's going on out here?” he asked.

Nancy held up the photocopy of the perfume formulas. “Recognize these, Mr. Clark?”

Louis's eyes widened at the sight of the formulas. His gaze flitted nervously around the reception area. “I, er, think I can spare a few minutes for these young ladies,” he told his secretary, gesturing for Nancy and Bess to enter his office.

As soon as he shut the door behind the girls, Nancy squarely faced the store owner. “Mr. Clark, I know you're trying to steal Mitchell's exclusive perfume formula. I also happen to know you're missing a handkerchief—the one with the initials L.C. It was found in Mitchell's cosmetics lab in Brooklyn.”

Louis stared impassively at Nancy and Bess as he walked to his desk and sat down. His initial nervousness had disappeared. “The police have already called me. A Detective Green, I believe. Nice fellow. He asked me some standard questions, and I told him I didn't know what he was talking about. I'm an important member of New York's business community,” he added smugly. “No one's going to believe I would stoop so low as to break into my competitor's warehouse.”