Hot Tracks (14 page)

“You wouldn't dare,” Dirk said hotly.

“Oh, wouldn't I?” Stan retorted. He became deadly serious as he added, “Now I want you to tie up your boyfriend, Ms. Drew.” He waved them toward the freight elevator. “There's some rope over there.”

Dirk started over, Nancy next to him. As she
turned, Nancy reached into her jacket pocket and clicked on the tape recorder.

“Don't bother taping this, Ms. Drew,” Powderly told her. “We're torching the whole place. All the evidence will be gone. Now that the police have an idea of where this chop shop is, we've got to start all over in a different city.”

“But what about these cars and your equipment?” Nancy asked.

“It's cheaper just to replace all of it,” Powderly explained with a shrug. “Now quit stalling and tie up your boyfriend.”

Dirk put his hands together and held them out to Nancy. When he did, he nodded his head ever so slightly toward the spray gun. Nancy realized that the compressor was still on. Maybe she could use the gun somehow. But how?

“So tell me, Stan. How did you get involved with the auto theft ring?” Nancy asked, trying to buy some time. She moved as slowly as she dared as she looped the rope around Dirk's wrists.

“Easy. I busted a kid stealing cars several months ago, and he led me right to R. H. Shipping. Then I politely informed the head of the ring that either he paid me off, or I turned them all in. You can imagine his decision. My payoffs were so lucrative, I decided to get in on the operation.”

Nancy couldn't believe Stan Powderly's
smug attitude. He was actually proud to be a crooked cop! It made her sick.

Powderly waved his gun around the shop as he continued explaining. “Somebody else did all the dirty work. I was just a middle man. My job was to tell Kitty what kind of car was needed.”

“So you started leaking information about the police investigation to the people at the chop shop, so they could avoid being caught,” Nancy guessed.

“Right. Being on the police force was perfect. Handy for finding new recruits for stealing cars, too. Now do his feet.”

Dirk obediently sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. If only she had a diversion, Nancy thought, some way to take Stan's attention.

“How did you manage to frame Hawkins?” she asked, trying to remain calm. The younger detective was still sitting bound on the floor, leaning awkwardly against the boxes. His angry gaze was fixed unwaveringly on Stan Powderly.

“That was easy,” said Powderly. “Wiping off the prints was just a matter of breaking into the evidence room. And good old Hawk—he's arrogant but gullible. He lent me his car so I could tail you and plant the evidence tape. I made it pretty obvious that I was following you, figuring that a hot young
detective
like yourself would try to turn the tables on me.”

Nancy didn't miss his sneer as he said the word
detective
, but she said nothing.

“Lucky for me, Hawk left his boots in the car,” Powderly went on. “That gave me the idea of framing him for Sandia's murder.”

Nancy tied one last knot, then stood up. “Sounds like you've got everything covered,” she said, pretending to be impressed.

“Yeah—and it was fun.” Detective Powderly leered at them. “I even got to dress up like the other grease monkeys at the track, and hang around until I got the chance to kill Jimmy Sandia.”

“Then
you
must be the one who cut the brake line on my car,” Dirk said angrily.

Powderly nodded. “Right before the race, when you and Ms. Marvin were exchanging good luck smooches, and Ms. Drew was off being a detective somewhere. My plan was to divert attention away from the pit so I could find Kitty Lambert. Didn't work out that way, though.”

“You creep,” Dirk said. He struggled to stand up, but Powderly swung his gun around to point at him.

“Sit down,” Powderly ordered.

In that split second, his attention was diverted. Nancy knew it was now or never.

Diving for the spray gun, she whipped it around and pulled the trigger. Blue paint spurted into Stan Powderly's face. With a scream, he threw up his hands to guard his eyes.

At the same time Dirk launched himself into the back of Powderly's knees. The detective fell backward on top of Dirk, but managed to keep a grip on his gun.

Nancy aimed the stream of spray at Powderly again. This time he managed to lurch backward, just out of reach.

“Nice try, Ms. Drew,” Stan said, wiping the paint from his eyes. He stood up, his gun pointed at Nancy's head. “Too bad you didn't succeed, because now I'm through fooling around.”

Pulling a cigarette lighter from his pocket, he flicked it open. A blue flame shot into the air. “With all the paint and thinner in here, this place will go up like a torch—with all of you in it!”

Y
OU MUST BE
pretty desperate to kill all of us,” Nancy said in as calm a voice as she could muster.

“Not desperate. Smart,” said Powderly. He started to lower the flame of the lighter toward a cardboard box.

Suddenly there was a crash above them. Nancy raised her head in time to see Raul Quinones drop in from the skylight above.

“What—?” Powderly began. As Quinones landed on his feet on the roof of a car, Powderly quickly flicked off the lighter and once again aimed his gun at Nancy.

At the same time, Quinones drew his gun and ordered, “Drop the gun, Stan.”

“I'm not the one you want, Raul,” Powderly
said smoothly. “Hawk's your man. These kids were in on the auto theft ring, too.”

“Don't believe him,” Nancy said to Detective Quinones, trying not to think about the gun pointed at her head. “He was going to set the whole place on fire, with us in it.”

“She's crazy.” Stan glowered at Nancy. “They decided to work with Hawkins. I caught them painting cars.”

“Cut the double-talk, Stan,” Quinones said firmly. “It's over. We caught your two goons trying to make a run for it. Even if they won't testify against you, I'm sure Ms. Drew and her friends will.”

Stan's eyes narrowed. “You'd take their word over mine?”

“That's right,” said Quinones. “Now drop it.”

“Never.” Stan pressed his gun barrel against Nancy's temple. “Go ahead and shoot me, but the lovely Ms. Drew will die, too.”

Nancy's heart was pounding. She knew Detective Quinones didn't have a choice. He'd never risk her life. He lowered his gun without hesitating.

There
had
to be a way, Nancy thought desperately. Her eyes darted quickly around. If she could only distract Powderly . . .

When her gaze landed on B. D. Hawkins, Nancy noticed that he was looking at her. He was still leaning against the boxes in the middle of the room. With a secret wink at Nancy, he began to thrash his body from side to side.

“Knock it off!” Stan shouted, whirling toward Hawkins.

In that second Nancy lashed out with a chop to Powderly's wrist. The gun flew from his hand, skittering across the floor. Before Powderly could recover it, Raul Quinones jumped from the roof of the car, raced over, and landed a punch on Powderly's jaw.

Powderly crumpled backward with a cry. By the time he looked up again, Quinones's gun was trained on him. “You're under arrest, Stan.”

As if on cue two other officers raced up the metal staircase. Nancy recognized one of them as Officer Jackson, who immediately twisted Powderly's hands behind his back and handcuffed them. The other officer hurried over to B. D. Hawkins and began untying him.

“Bess!” Nancy exclaimed, as her friend came up the stairs after the officers. “Are you okay?”

Bess nodded. “I'm really sorry. Powderly's goons sneaked up on me in the car. They had my mouth taped before I even knew what was happening. I'm just lucky those other cops found me tied up downstairs in the office.”

“It's not your fault,” Nancy reassured her. “Powderly sneaked up on all of us.”

Bess shivered as she looked at Detective Powderly. “Boy, am I glad you got him. Those goons said he was going to burn this whole place up.”

Just then Bess's gaze landed on Dirk, who
was still tied up next to the elevator. “Dirk!” she cried, rushing over to him. She and Nancy quickly untied him.

As soon as Dirk was free, he enveloped Bess in a big hug. “I'm so glad you're not hurt,” he said.

“I'm glad we're
all
not hurt,” Bess said, but Nancy noticed a slight blush in her friend's cheeks.

Glancing around at all the parts, Nancy said, “Well, we finally found the chop shop, but I don't see your Camaro anywhere, Bess.”

“I guess we were too late,” Dirk added. Seeing the disappointment on Bess's face, he took her hand. “Hey, with my contacts, we'll find you a new car in no time. Maybe something as nice as—” His glance fell on a red sports car in the corner. “Something as nice as that baby.”

Bess forced a smile. “Okay. It's a deal.”

Nancy went over to Detective Hawkins, who was sitting on the floor, rubbing his ankles where they'd been bound.

“I want to apologize for suspecting you,” Nancy said. “If you hadn't distracted Powderly, we all could have been in big trouble.”

Hawkins held up his hand to quiet her. “I'm the one who should apologize,” he said with a smile. “For doubting your abilities. You're one smart detective, Nancy Drew.”

As Officer Jackson and the other officer led Powderly down the steps, Detective Quinones
came over to Nancy and Detective Hawkins. “You okay, Hawk?” he asked, helping the detective to his feet.

Hawkins nodded. “I feel pretty dumb, though. I mean, to think I believed Stan when he said he wanted my car last night because his was in the shop. I had no idea he was setting me up. I thought the guy was my friend!”

Quinones ran his fingers through his hair. “If it helps any, it seems as though he had everyone fooled.”

Shaking his head ruefully, Hawkins said, “That's for sure. When I drove up, Stan waved me into R. H. Shipping and took me up here to show me the chop shop. I was thinking what a great bust, when
wham!
He must've hit me on the head with something hard.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“You need to take it easy,” Quinones told him. “The medics will be here any minute.”

Nancy took the tape recorder from her pocket and handed it to Detective Quinones. “It's all on here,” she said.

“Hey, Hawk!” Officer Jackson called from the top of the steps. “The dispatcher just called. You're to meet your wife at the hospital. Seems you're going to be a dad!”

“All right!” B.D. whooped. “Baby number four. I've been moonlighting as a security guard to make enough money for a down payment on a bigger house. We've kind of grown out of the old place.”

Quinones burst out laughing. “So
that's
why
you've been so tense and edgy and hard to get in touch with. And all this time I thought it was because you were being paid off by car thieves.”

“Sorry I didn't tell you about the moonlighting,” said B.D. “I was afraid you'd make me quit. The only person I did tell was Stan.”

“Who used the information to make you look even more guilty,” Nancy put in.

B.D. started for the stairs, then paused and smiled back at Nancy. “Hey, you were good back there,” he said. “Ever think of joining the police force?”

“No way. It's too dangerous,” she said, laughing.

“I'll be back up as soon as the medics take B.D. to the hospital,” Quinones told the teens. He disappeared down the steps after Detective Hawkins.

Nancy was smiling to herself when she turned back to Bess and Dirk. They were picking through the piles of car parts. “What are you guys looking for?” Nancy asked.

“Any sign of Bess's Camaro,” Dirk answered. “She's really down.”

As Bess went over to peer in the window of the red sports car, Nancy noticed that it was a Camaro. It looked like the same model Bess's had been.

“Don't worry,” Nancy said, going over to her friend. “When you get your insurance money, we'll just have to hunt for a car like this.”

“Only it won't be the same,” Bess said with a sigh. “Your first car is like your first love—you never forget it.”

Nancy opened the car door. “Come on, get in. We'll go for an imaginary ride—to check out guys at The Scene.”

“Oh, all right.” Bess had to smile. She climbed into the driver's seat while Nancy got in the passenger side.

“This is some interior,” Nancy commented, running her hands down the white leather seats. “They must've been sending this car to somebody willing to lay out big bucks.”

“That's for sure,” Bess agreed. “Only I don't think it was quite ready to go. Look at this ugly brown carpet.”