False Notes (13 page)

“You never know,” I said. “It could still work out.”

“Come on, Nancy,” George said. “How are we supposed to make a four-hour drive in three hours? Even if we
don’t
run out of gas this time?”

“Zip it,” I hissed at George as Leslie came back into sight with an overstuffed backpack slung over her shoulder. “We’re going to do what we can, okay?” I smiled brightly at Leslie as she reached us. “Ready to go?”

“I guess.” Leslie closed and locked the cabin door, then followed us to the car.

Dawn was breaking over the lake as I started the engine. My stomach was grumbling, and my eyelids felt like they were lined with wool. It had been a very long night—and it wasn’t over yet. Stifling a yawn, I pulled onto the road and headed for the highway.

Bess was sitting in the back with George, while Leslie was in the passenger seat across from me. I glanced over and saw that she was staring blankly out the window. Unlike the rest of us, she didn’t look sleepy—just sad and worried. “Can you tell us
exactly what happened?” I asked her softly.

She glanced at me. “Sure,” she said. The truth of the situation seemed to be sinking in at last. “It was all Mrs. Sharon’s idea—the rehearsal retreat up at the cabin, I mean. She said it would give Diane and me a chance to really focus on our music for a few days without any distractions. We didn’t want to miss the recital at our camp, but she insisted that the auditions were more important.” She shrugged. “I thought she was right, but I still felt bad about leaving Mrs. Diver in the lurch.”

“So where did Diane go?” George asked from the backseat. “You said she was up here with you, right?”

“Her dad came to get her yesterday morning,” Leslie explained. “She had a dentist appointment back in River Heights. But he said I should stay for one last night, since I’d have a more peaceful night’s rest, and more time to practice on their piano—it’s a really nice piano.” A note of admiration crept into her voice.

“Didn’t you think that was sort of strange?” George asked. “Him making this long drive twice in two days, I mean?”

“Of course!” Leslie said. “Diane and I both thought it was totally weird. But he insisted. And I had no reason to think there was anything wrong.”

“But what about your parents?” Bess asked. “They’re really worried about you.”

Leslie turned to stare at her. “What?” she said. “Why would they be worried? They knew where I was.”

“I’m afraid they didn’t,” I told her gently. “They’ve been frantic. As far as they know, you just disappeared.”

Leslie gasped. “I can’t believe this!” she exclaimed. “Mr. and Mrs. Sharon told me that my parents knew all about the retreat. They said my parents had thought it was a great idea!”

“Was that why you didn’t write much in the note you left?” Bess asked her.

George shot her cousin a scoffing look. “Keep up, Bess,” she said. “Isn’t it obvious? Leslie didn’t write that note. Her folks even said it didn’t look like her handwriting, remember?”

“Note?” Leslie sounded confused. “What note?”

We explained it to her. “The Sharons must have planted it at your house somehow,” I finished.

She looked shocked. “I can’t believe they would do something like that! This is terrible. I can’t believe my parents have been worrying about me all this time.…”

I felt sorry for her. George offered Leslie her cell
phone so she could call home. Soon Leslie was sobbing into it as she explained the whole situation to her parents.

I clenched the steering wheel and pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal, more determined than ever to get her home in time for that audition.

D
espite my good intentions,
it was almost 10
A.M.
when we drove into River Heights. We’d gotten lost once after leaving the highway for a bathroom break, and then as we neared River Heights we’d been caught in snarled rush-hour traffic. Leslie had called her parents several times to report on our progress, and they had promised to meet us at the conservatory.

They were standing on the sidewalk outside the building when I pulled into the closest parking space. I was so exhausted I barely had the strength to turn the key to cut the engine, but Leslie immediately bounded out of the car and flung herself into her parents’ arms.

After a few noisy, confusing moments of happy
reunion, the family pulled apart. “Well?” Leslie asked her parents hopefully.

By that time Bess, George, and I had dragged ourselves out of the car. I waited with bated breath, hoping for some good news.

But it looked like we wouldn’t get it. Clay Simmons shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” he told his daughter. “Your mother and I tried every which way to convince them to wait for you. But they insisted that the audition times were final, and that there would be no makeups.”

We all went inside the conservatory building, still hoping for some sort of miracle. But we soon learned that the last round of auditions had just ended. The judges were conferring. A few minutes later it was official: The award had been won by a flautist from West Heights.

“At least those rotten cheaters the Sharons didn’t win,” George muttered with some satisfaction. “Their plan failed.”

I was glad about that too, but it didn’t make me feel that much better. I could tell that Leslie’s family was feeling the same way.

“Oh, well,” Leslie said, trying to sound cheerful and failing miserably. “I’m sure there will be other scholarships.”

Her mother pulled her into a tight hug. “Don’t
worry, sweetheart,” she whispered into Leslie’s hair. “We’ll find some way to pay for your training. I promise.”

Leslie looked up at her. “But how?” she asked. “The conservatory is so expensive.…”

“I don’t know,” Heather admitted, glancing at Clay, who was standing helplessly nearby. “I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out somehow.”

I was feeling depressed as we all said our good-byes and prepared to go our separate ways. As I fished the car key out of my pocket, I realized it was now officially my father’s birthday.

Oops, I thought, more dejected than ever. So much for finding the perfect gift. I’d be lucky if I could stay awake at his party that night. The very thought made me yawn. Gift or no gift, I needed to get some sleep. I was just too tired to shop. Dad would have to understand.

I invited the Simmonses to the party, and they promised to come. Maybe that would help take their minds off everything, I figured sleepily as Bess, George, and I headed back to my car. Or maybe Dad would be able to help them somehow when he heard what had happened.

“Too bad the Sharons are so deeply in debt,” George commented as she strapped herself into the front seat. “Otherwise your dad could help Mr. and
Mrs. Simmons sue them for enough money to pay Leslie’s tuition.”

I smiled slightly. Obviously she’d been thinking along the same lines as I had. “I thought of that, but I’m not sure it would work,” I said. “Leslie’s still a minor, but she went up there of her own free will. It would be her word against the Sharons’.”

“What if Diane testified for Leslie?” Bess wondered from the backseat.

I shrugged. “A teenager testifying against her parents? I don’t know.”

We fell silent after that, each of us thinking our own sleepy thoughts as I drove through downtown River Heights. The business day had started, and everywhere we looked people were bustling around looking perfectly normal—and awake. Our long drive up to Lake Firefly already seemed like a strange, hazy dream.

After dropping off my friends at their homes, I headed back to my house. Dad had long since left for work, and Hannah had left a note on the refrigerator saying she was at the supermarket picking up supplies for that night’s party. Grateful at not having to explain anything just then, I headed straight upstairs and fell into bed, barely pausing long enough to kick off my shoes.

I was so tired that my head was spinning, making
me feel a little dizzy. Spots floated on the backs of my eyelids, dancing to the tune of the classical piece Leslie had been playing when we found her.

Suddenly my eyes flew open and I sat bolt upright. For the first time in hours, I smiled. I’d just had a perfect idea. Maybe I wasn’t able to fix Leslie’s problems. But if my latest plan worked out, at least one thing that day wouldn’t be a total disaster. I reached for the phone on my bedside table.

I spent most of the day sleeping, awaking a few hours before the party feeling refreshed and optimistic about the evening’s festivities. Every time I thought about Leslie’s lost scholarship, my mood sank a little; I still wished I could figure out a way to help her. But I was determined not to let such worries spoil my father’s special day. I threw myself into the party preparations with all the energy I could muster, setting up tables and chairs near the grill in the backyard and helping Hannah prepare mounds of delicious food.

Bess and George arrived a little early to help out too. Soon the backyard looked festive and beautiful. Party lights blinked from the bushes, and bright bouquets of flowers were everywhere. When Dad arrived home from work, he was amazed.

“Wow,” he said, putting an arm around my shoulders
and planting a kiss on top of my head as he looked out the kitchen window at the backyard. “I know you said we were having a little cookout for my birthday. But I wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

I hugged him. “You deserve it, Dad. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” He grinned. “So what’d you get me?” he asked playfully.

“Now, now,” I joked back, waggling a finger at him. “You’ll just have to wait to find out.”

As he headed upstairs to change clothes, the doorbell rang. “Party’s on!” George exclaimed.

A group of neighbors were the first guests to arrive, led by Harold Safer, who had brought some buffalo-milk cheese for the party. Soon Bess and George’s parents and siblings turned up, and then Lucia Gonsalvo appeared, bearing a large platter of homemade pasta salad.

Dad came back downstairs to greet others as they appeared. Chief McGinnis came with his wife, and Ned brought his family along. Various clients, friends, and neighbors of Dad’s kept arriving until it seemed that half the town was in our backyard.

The party was in full swing when I finally spotted Heather, Clay, and Leslie Simmons walking into our backyard and pausing by the drinks table. Right behind them was Morris Granger.

I hurried to meet them, reaching our guests at the same time as Dad. “Hi.” I greeted Leslie and her parents with a wink. “I’m so glad you could make it.” I thought Dad might be surprised to see that Leslie was back safe and sound, since I hadn’t yet had a chance to fill him in on the conclusion of the mystery. But I quickly realized that Heather and Clay must have called him at his office to give him the news. I only hope they hadn’t spilled the beans about anything else.…

Next Dad turned to shake Granger’s hand. From their hearty greeting, I quickly deduced that Granger was one of Dad’s clients. I was a little surprised by that; I’d had no idea they knew each other.

Just then Granger turned to me with a broad smile. “And young Nancy!” he declared, reaching out to pump my hand. “It’s delightful to see you again, as well.”

“Again?” Dad raised an eyebrow at me quizzically. “I didn’t realize you two were acquainted.”

I grinned at him sheepishly. “Yes, we met yesterday,” I admitted. “It’s sort of a long story.”

With Morris Granger’s help, I quickly filled Dad in. Leslie and her parents listened silently, sipping at sodas, and halfway through the story Bess and George wandered over to join the group.

By the time we finished telling the story, Dad was
shaking his head. “I should have guessed,” he said. “Anytime Nancy gets that faraway look in her eyes, it means she’s on the trail of another mystery.”

Mr. Granger laughed, reaching for a second soda. “Well, she certainly solved the heck out of this one,” he said admiringly.

I smiled weakly, exchanging a glance with Bess and George. We’d solved it, all right—but too late to do anything to help Leslie.

“That reminds me,” Mr. Granger said. “I suppose this means I owe you that reward, Nancy. Is it all right if I drop off a check tomorrow, or would you like me to wire the money directly into your bank account?”

I gaped at him, not understanding what he was talking about at first. “What?”

“The reward,” Mr. Granger repeated. “The ten thousand dollars for the person who tracked down Leslie. That’s what I promised, and I never go back on my word.” He smiled at me. “Besides, you earned it.”

I gulped, finally remembering his offer at the Simmons house the previous night. Ten thousand dollars! Images of all the things I could buy with that kind of money flashed through my head. It was tempting—but I knew what I had to do.

“Well, first of all, if I
did
earn the reward, my
friends earned it right along with me,” I said slowly, glancing at Bess and George. “If you’ll just let me talk with them for a moment…”

The three of us huddled a short distance away. When Bess and George heard what I had in mind, they both quickly nodded, even though I could see that George had been adding up in her mind all the electronic equipment she could buy with her share.