Authors: Carolyn Keene

Hot Tracks (15 page)

BOOK: Hot Tracks

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Bess bent down and patted the floor. For a second, she was quiet, then Nancy heard her whisper, “Hey, Nan, do you smell something?”

Nancy sniffed the air. “Yeah. Car paint.”

“No. I mean, down here on the floor.”

Nancy leaned over and sniffed. “Your perfume.”

“That's what I'm talking about!” Bess's voice rose to an excited squeal. “I'm not wearing any. The smell is coming from the carpet!”

She sat up and grabbed Nancy's hand. “Nancy, this beautiful red Camaro with white leather seats
is
my car! Remember when I spilled the perfume in it?”

Nancy's mouth fell open. “That's right!”

Just then Dirk came over carrying a huge dashboard. “Hey, Bess, do you have your VIN? This is from a Camaro, and I want to check and see if it came from yours.”

While Bess rummaged through her wallet, Nancy told Dirk about the spilled perfume.

“I've heard of lots of strange ways to ID a car, but this is definitely the strangest,” he said with a laugh. Taking the slip of paper Bess handed him, he added, “Now, if we can prove that this dashboard is yours
and
that it originally came from this now-red Camaro, then even the police will have to be convinced.”

Bess leaned forward and hugged the Camaro's steering wheel. “I just know this car is mine.” Then she sat back with a serious expression. “Only when I get it back, I'm definitely equipping it with some antitheft devices!”

â¢Â â¢Â â¢

The next day Nancy, Bess, and Dirk were at the drag strip huddled around Big D's Dynomite.

“Well, your Camaro may have gotten a facelift,” Dirk said to Bess, “but I'm afraid the Big D won't be ready in time for the Memorial Day race.”

Bess squeezed his hand. “I'm really sorry.”

Giving Bess a quick kiss on the cheek, he said, “At least everything else turned out okay. The notorious River Heights chop shop will soon be an empty warehouse.”

“And since Kitty turned herself in and is
testifying against Powderly, he'll be in jail for a long, long time,” Nancy added.

“Jake went over to post Kitty's bail this morning,” Dirk told the girls. “They should be here any minute.”

A few minutes later Nancy saw Jake and Kitty walking through the entrance to the pit area. The two were holding hands and beaming at each other.

“Hey! We've got good news,” Jake said as the couple came up to the Big D. “Since Kitty's providing testimony that will put Stan Powderly behind bars, Detective Quinones is going to speak to the judge about giving her a suspended sentence.”

“I just may get probation,” Kitty said hopefully.

Jake looked down at her with a serious expression. “A
long
probation where you won't be able to get even a speeding ticket.”

“That's okay,” said Kitty. “I'm just happy for a second chance. I'm never going to break the law again. After all, it cost me my brother.” Turning to Nancy, she added, “I can't thank you enough. If it wasn't for you and Bess, I'd be running for my life.”

“It was your information that helped close up the chop shop,” Bess told Kitty.

Kitty nodded. “I'm glad of that. From now on, I'll earn the money needed to race Jimmy's dream car by being the best mechanic on the drag strip.”

“Well, I'm definitely going to need a mechanic
to help get the Big D back in shape,” Dirk said with a sigh.

“Thanks,” Kitty told him. She and Jake exchanged a grin, and Kitty said, “Do you want to tell him, Jake?”

“Tell me what?” Dirk asked.

Jake grinned and slapped Dirk on the shoulder. “Kitty's going to need someone to drive Jimmy's car in the Memorial Day race. How about it?”

Dirk's mouth fell open, and Bess jumped up and gave him a hug. “Say yes!” she urged.

“Yes!” Dirk cried, throwing his baseball cap in the air. Laughing, Nancy picked it up from the ground and plopped it back on his head.

With a huge grin, Dirk slid his arms around Bess's and Nancy's shoulders. “Definitely yes. And with Nancy and Bess crewing for me, I'm bound to win!”

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.