Hot Tracks (10 page)

“Sure, I'd love to help,” Bess said brightly. Nancy chuckled to herself. She didn't think Bess had ever waxed a car in her life.

The rain had stopped, and the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds. Nancy and Bess shed their slickers and got to work. Nancy caught Bess and Dirk staring at each other a few times. Maybe there was a chance things would work out for them.

At one point Dirk took off to get some water for the engine. Nancy walked over to Jake, who was bent over the Big D's exposed front end.

She didn't want to wait all day to find Kitty. Maybe she could convince Jake to take her there earlier. Besides, she hadn't really talked to him about Jimmy Sandia's murder. If he was close to Kitty, maybe he knew more than he was letting on.

“So where were you yesterday when all the excitement was going on?” Nancy asked lightly.

Jake straightened up and gave her a stony look.

“I already told the cops,” Jake told her. “You know, your two buddies.”

“Detectives Hawkins and Powderly?” Nancy guessed.

Jake nodded. “They were here nosing around the track this morning.” Without another word, he went back to his work. Clearly, he was through talking to Nancy.

With a sigh, Nancy began polishing again.
She was beginning to feel as if she'd never get to the bottom of this case.

• • •

“I can't believe how excited I am!” Bess exclaimed. It was late afternoon and she and Nancy were sitting on the hilltop overlooking the track.

The girls had helped Dirk and Jake get the Big D ready all day, stopping only briefly for lunch. Now it was time for the race.

At the starting line, Big D's Dynomite zoomed forward in a burst of speed. In the lane next to it, an orange car did the same.

“They're off!” Nancy cried. She couldn't believe how excited she was.

She frowned a second later when the cars screeched to sudden stops, then backed up to the line again.

“Relax. That's just the burn-out,” Bess explained. “They do it to heat up the tires. Gives them better traction for a faster start. These races are so short, they're often won by just a fraction of a second.”

Nancy looked at her friend, surprised. “I'm impressed. Where'd you learn all that?”

“Dirk explained it yesterday,” Bess said proudly. “He said the cars can go up to a hundred and sixty miles an hour, so the race only lasts a little over eight seconds. There's a light beam that records the times at the finish line.”

Nancy looked down at the short track. Chain-link fencing ran along both sides of it,
and a huge cornfield bordered the end. A tractor and pesticide sprayer were parked out in the field.

There was a loud roar, and Bess jumped to her feet. “There he goes!”

The Big D shot from the starting line and streaked down the straight track, slightly ahead of the other car. At the finish line, a blinking light in Dirk's lane signaled the end.

“He won!” Nancy exclaimed.

Her cheer died a second later because instead of slowing down, Big D's Dynomite continued to barrel even faster down the asphalt track.

“Something's wrong!” Bess gasped.

Finally the back wheels seemed to lock. But by then the Big D was going so fast, it started to skid sideways. Then the car flew into the air and landed with a crash in the cornfield.

Nancy watched in horror as the Big D zigzagged through the soft dirt, obviously out of control.

“Dirk's not stopping,” Bess gasped, clutching Nancy's arm. “He's going to hit that tractor!”

B
ESS SCREAMED
as Dirk's car spun sideways in a spray of dust. The Big D crashed into the wheel of the tractor and jolted to a stop.

As the crowd around her stood up, Nancy took off down the hill. She could hear Bess right behind her.

After racing along the track, Nancy took off into the field. She ran between the rows of young corn plants until she reached the car.

The Big D had swung around so that the driver's door was smashed against the tractor wheel. As Nancy yanked open the passenger door, she saw that Dirk was slumped down in the seat. His hands were cupped around his neck, his eyes shut.

“Dirk!” Nancy touched him lightly on the arm. “Are you all right?”

Opening his eyes, Dirk peered sideways at her. “Man, I don't know. I knocked my head on the steering wheel. My neck really hurts.”

“Don't move,” Nancy cautioned, sliding into the car. “You may have injured it.”

He smiled wanly as Bess stuck her head in the open door beside Nancy's. Jake was right behind her. “That was some finish, huh?”

“Shh,” Bess said soothingly. “The rescue squad's on the way. Oh, you poor thing!”

“How does the Big D look?” Dirk asked. “Is my car totaled?”

“Just the side door,” Jake assured him. “The dirt slowed you down so the impact wasn't as bad as it could've been. What happened anyway?”

“My front brakes didn't work. It felt as if the brake line snapped.” Dirk grimaced and added, “I think somebody cut it. It was fine before lunch.”

Nancy nodded grimly. “Let me check and see what I can find.” She got out, and Bess slid in and took Dirk's hand.

Waving urgently, Nancy motioned to the emergency vehicle that was pulling up. Two paramedics jumped out, carrying medical bags. As they reached the car, Nancy and Jake walked to the front of the Big D.

Crouching down, they looked at the area near the left wheel. Brake fluid was everywhere. When Nancy inspected the line, she saw that it had been sliced. “Dirk was right,” she said grimly.

“Check this out,” Jake added, tapping one end of the severed brake line. Looking more closely, Nancy saw that the end had only been sliced partially through. The rest was frayed, as if it had snapped from pressure.

“Whoever did this only cut part of the way through the line,” Jake explained. “That way the brakes would hold during the burn-out, then snap when Dirk tried to stop at the finish line. That's when there's a lot more pressure on the brakes.”

Nancy straightened up just as the paramedics lifted Dirk out the passenger door and onto a stretcher. A protective collar had been placed around his neck. She and Jake walked next to the stretcher on one side, and Bess was on the other.

“You were right about the brakes,” Nancy whispered to Dirk. “Who could have done it?”

“Kitty.” Dirk's voice was a whisper.

“Kitty did it?”

He frowned. “No.
Ask
Kitty.”

“But where is she?” Nancy leaned closer to hear the answer.

“She'll find you.”

As the paramedics slid the stretcher into the emergency van, Bess said firmly, “I want to ride with him.”

“Good idea,” Nancy agreed. “I'll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can.”

“Right.” Bess fished in her purse for her car keys and handed them to Nancy. Then she climbed into the van and sat next to Dirk.

Nancy watched as the van drove away, siren blaring. When she looked back at Jake, he was studying her. “Why would somebody want to hurt Dirk?” he asked.

“That's what I'd like to know,” said Nancy. “My guess is that someone thinks you and Dirk know too much. This was his—or her—way of warning you to keep your information to yourself. Or maybe they wanted you both away from the track.”

Nancy hadn't mentioned Kitty by name, but she could see that Jake got her point. He smoothed back his hair with a nervous gesture. After a long pause, he said, “Kitty did tell us some stuff last night—stuff I didn't know about.” He frowned. “I thought I was dating a hotshot mechanic. I was shocked when I found out she and Jimmy Sandia were stealing cars.”

So Kitty
was
Jimmy's partner, Nancy thought. But was she a murderer, too? “What did she say happened in the shed yesterday?” Nancy asked.

Jake shrugged. “She just said she'd arranged to meet Jimmy there after she overheard you and Bess talking about a guy with a red ponytail. But she says she didn't kill him,” he added quickly.

“I'm not so sure about that,” Nancy told him. “The police were ready to close in on Jimmy. Kitty might've been afraid he'd turn her in. And it looks as if she's the only suspect the police have.”

Jake leveled a serious gaze at Nancy. “That's why she's so scared,” he explained. “She thinks she was set up.”

“Who would set her up?” Nancy asked.

“I don't know,” he answered, holding up his hands in a helpless gesture. “I think that's what she wants to tell you.”

Just then a tow truck rattled to the end of the track and honked. Jake and Nancy moved away from the Big D.

“I know you're not supposed to see Kitty till later, but . . .” He took a deep breath, then said, “In the pit area there's a big dual-wheel pickup hooked to a long, enclosed trailer. It's used for hauling cars. The trailer has Tiny's Mean Machine written on it. That's Tiny's rig. He'll tell you where Kitty is.”

“Tiny?” Nancy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You'll know him when you see him,” Jake told her. “After I get Dirk's car taken care of, I'm going to the hospital.” Giving Nancy a smile, he said, “Thanks. And good luck.”

I'll need it, Nancy thought, crossing slowly toward the pit area. There were still so many unanswered questions—such as who had sabotaged Dirk's car? And who on the police force was trying to sabotage the auto theft investigation? There was some connection she was missing. Nancy could just feel it, but couldn't bring it into focus.

One thing was clear: Dirk wasn't a suspect anymore. He wouldn't have caused his own
accident. Also she couldn't imagine Jake doing something to hurt his own brother. Still, Nancy thought, Jake
was
involved with Kitty. . . .

She slowed her steps, wondering if she should call Detective Quinones, then quickly decided against it. If Kitty smelled a cop, she'd never come out of hiding. Nancy decided to take the chance that Jake and Kitty were telling the truth.

But that didn't mean she wouldn't be careful.

A cool wind whipped through the area, and goose bumps prickled Nancy's arms. With Bess gone, she suddenly felt all alone. The pit area was full of people now, but no one she knew she could trust.

Nancy's senses were extra alert as she approached Tiny's truck. The enclosed trailer, which was hooked up to it, was big—large enough to hold two cars.

She walked around to the back of the trailer. The ramp was down, and the heavy metal doors were open, but a canvas tarp hung over the entrance so Nancy couldn't see inside. With a deep breath, she walked up the ramp, pulled the tarp aside, and stuck her head into the dark trailer.

In the next instant, a hand was clapped over Nancy's mouth and a strong arm had circled around her chest.

Nancy tried to scream, but it came out a muffled grunt. Then she felt herself being hoisted into the air. Kicking her feet, she tried
to free herself, but the person's hold only tightened. Nancy's heart flip-flopped. She was trapped and no one knew where she was!

“Hold still. I'm not gonna hurt you,” a man's voice said gruffly.

“Thanks, Tiny,” a softer voice spoke up. Nancy strained to look through the dark. It was Kitty Lambert. The brunette was sitting cross-legged on a bed of blankets at the front of the darkened trailer. A half-eaten sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a bottle of soda were next to her.

Tiny gently set Nancy down next to the blankets. Then he stood protectively over Kitty. Nancy's eyes had adjusted to the dark and now recognized the huge man she'd seen Kitty talking to the day before. He was wearing oil-stained coveralls, and his head had been shaved.

“I heard about Dirk,” Kitty said quietly, motioning Nancy to sit next to her. Tears filled her eyes. “I'm sorry it's come to this. I hope you can help.”

Was that a threat, or a plea for help? Nancy couldn't tell for sure. She nodded calmly, but her heart was still racing. “I'll try. But you'll have to tell me everything.”

Kitty sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I didn't kill Jimmy. He was my brother,” she said simply.

Nancy's eyes widened in surprise. Her brother! “I'm sorry,” she said sincerely. “I had no idea. You have different last names.”

“Jimmy was my stepbrother. We didn't tell anyone,” Kitty said. “I didn't kill him,” she went on, “but I still feel as if it's my fault. I'm the one who got Jimmy into car theft. We both wanted to make it big on the drag-racing circuit—only it takes a lot of money.” She sighed. “We got impatient.”

“And stealing cars was a way to make big money?” Nancy guessed.

Kitty nodded. “Jimmy made enough to buy the car of his dreams. Then he got careless in Chicago and almost got caught, so we split. River Heights seemed like a perfect place to work. There's a track, and we knew from people in the auto theft business that there was already an established chop shop, too. In fact, they recruited us as soon as we hit town.”