Hot Tracks (8 page)

The guy with the ponytail obviously recognized her, but if he thought
she
hadn't recognized
him
, maybe he wouldn't panic and bolt.

Nancy glanced back at the parking lot. She could just make out the guy with the ponytail locking the door of his truck cap. After looking around, he headed for the garagelike building Kitty Lambert had disappeared into.

Nancy walked casually in the direction of the building, keeping a close watch on the guy. He opened the side door and disappeared inside the building.

What was he doing in there? Nancy wondered. She hurried down a low dirt slope to the back of the building and crouched beneath a small, boarded-up window.

“You didn't tell me someone almost caught
you!” a woman's shrill voice said from inside the building.

A guy murmured something. Then Nancy heard the woman's voice again, only this time, the roar of an engine drowned out her words.

Nancy inched slowly along the wall to the side, where it sounded as if the voices were coming from. Then she peered around the corner. Suddenly the side door was flung open and Kitty Lambert ran out, a wrench clasped in her hand.

So the woman with the shrill voice was Kitty! She must have been talking to the red-haired guy. Nancy watched as Kitty strode back to the pit area and Dirk's car. Nancy didn't see Dirk, though.

Turning her attention back to the building, she listened for the red-haired guy. There was no sound from inside the building. Nancy knew he had to be in there because she would have seen him if he'd come out the only door that she'd noticed.

Perfect, Nancy thought, smiling to herself. As long as he's in there, I might as well sneak a peek into the back of his truck.

Stepping away from the garage, Nancy checked to see where Dirk and Kitty were. Kitty was standing by Big D's Dynomite, talking to Jake. Nancy then spotted Dirk sitting with Bess on top of the hill. Good, the coast was clear.

Nancy walked casually toward the truck with the enclosed bed. There were plenty of
other people milling around the parking lot, but they all seemed to be busy.

When Nancy reached the truck, she sauntered along the side and peeked into the window in the cap. The glass was tinted, but she could make out a pile of car parts inside.

Nancy glanced around quickly, then slipped her lock pick out of her purse. In five seconds she had the door to the truck bed open. She pressed her lips together as she surveyed the jumble of parts. How was she going to tell if they were stolen?

Her gaze fell on a rectangular engine block. Hadn't Detective Quinones mentioned that that was one of the places that the Vehicle Identification Number was stamped?

After checking to make sure no one was looking, Nancy stepped up on the bumper and leaned into the truck bed. Pulling her penlight from her purse, she clicked it on and searched for the VIN. All she found was a rough spot on one end. Maybe the number had been ground out.

Not definite proof, Nancy said to herself as she locked the truck back up. It was obvious that the guy with the ponytail, or someone he was working with, didn't want that part traced.

She walked casually away from the truck and checked her watch. Almost four-thirty. Where was Quinones? And where was the guy with the ponytail?

Dirk and Bess were still on the hill. Catching
Nancy's eye, Bess waved and made a drinking motion with her hand. Nancy nodded, then made her way toward the concession stand to buy some sodas.

As she passed by the garagelike shed, Nancy decided to make a little detour. She hoped the guy with the red ponytail was still inside. Nancy decided to keep an eye on him until the police arrived.

She slowly opened the door she'd seen Kitty storm out of. It was dark inside, and Nancy had to wait for her eyes to adjust.

Several large shapes turned out to be cars and tractors. Along the far wall were some gardening tools. This had to be some kind of maintenance shed. Nancy saw no sign of anyone inside, though.

She turned her attention to the cars. The one closest to her was a black sports car. An older model Chevy was parked next to the far wall. Between the two was a car covered with a tarp.

Could it be stolen? Maybe she could get a peek at the car's VIN. Silently, Nancy crept around the sports car to the middle one. The tarp was tied to the back bumper so she couldn't lift it up. As she passed between the two cars, heading to the front end, Nancy reached inside her purse for her penlight. If she could just see under—

Suddenly she lurched forward as the toe of her sneaker caught on something. With a cry, she landed on the dirt floor, her purse flattened beneath her.

Nancy rolled onto her side with a groan and sat up. She gasped when she saw what she'd stumbled over—two legs sticking out from under the middle car, as if someone were working on it.

A chill raced up her spine. No one would work on a car in darkness. Her fingers curled around her flashlight. Slowly she drew it from her purse and flicked it on.

Taking a shaky breath, she scrambled to her knees. She ran the beam of light up the jean-covered legs, then bent down and flashed it under the car.

It was the guy with the red ponytail.

A feeling of dread grew in the pit of Nancy's stomach. She felt for his pulse, but there was none. He was dead.

N
ANCY STARED
at the dead man, her mind reeling.

Somebody had killed him and shoved him under the car. Kitty Lambert had come storming out with a wrench. Had it been Kitty?

Just then Nancy heard footsteps behind her. Before she could move, strong fingers closed around her shoulder. Instinctively, she whirled sideways and batted the person's arm away.

“Ow!” a male voice cried out.

Jumping up, Nancy found herself face-to-face with Raul Quinones. He was holding his arm and grimacing with pain.

“Detective Quinones! What are you doing sneaking up on me? I thought you were the person who killed the guy with the red ponytail.”

The detective's mouth fell open. “Killed him?” he echoed.

He quickly knelt next to the body, and Nancy handed him her flashlight. When he aimed the beam under the car, he gave a low whistle. The light illuminated a small pool of blood under the head.

“Did you touch anything?” Quinones asked Nancy.

“I felt for a pulse,” she replied. “Oh, and I tripped over his leg. That's how I found him.”

Quinones sighed and got to his feet; “Well, there goes our car thief—and any chance of getting him to tell us where the chop shop is.”

“Do you think he was just one of the little guys?” Nancy asked.

“I'm sure of it,” the detective replied. “He might have led us to the ringleaders.”

“I think I know who may have killed him,” Nancy said. She told him about overhearing the conversation from outside the shed. “The woman said, ‘You didn't tell me someone almost caught you.' Then I saw Kitty Lambert leave, carrying a large wrench. She's a mechanic who works with Dirk Walters, the guy we told you about.”

“A blow on the back of the head with a wrench could have done it,” Quinones said thoughtfully. He shone the penlight on the shed's dirt floor, and Nancy spotted two trails leading up to the car from the side of the shed by the tractor.

“Looks like she dragged him over here and
pushed him under the car,” Nancy said. “Probably to hide him from anyone coming in the door.”

Nancy started to follow the drag marks, but Detective Quinones put a restraining hand on her arm. “We'll take it from here,” he said firmly. “I'll radio headquarters and get the boys from homicide and the crime lab out here.”

“I'm sure glad you got here when you did,” Nancy added. “You obviously got my message. I called because I witnessed Dirk buying a car part from this guy. I'm pretty sure the guy with the ponytail recognized me, too.”

“We'll just have to ask Dirk a few questions,” Quinones said as they walked to the door. “Just remember, let
me
do the talking. You're not supposed to be in on this case.”

“How'd you know where to find me?” Nancy asked when they got outside.

“Your friend, Bess.” He pointed over to his police car, where Nancy could see Dirk leaning against the rear bumper. Bess was hopping nervously from one foot to the other. When she saw Nancy, she rushed forward and gave her a hug.

“Is everything okay? You were going to get sodas, and then I saw you go into that building. When Detective Quinones drove up in a rush and asked where you were, I didn't know what to think.”

“I'm fine,” Nancy assured her, “but our car thief isn't.”

“What do you mean?” Bess asked. “He's hurt?”

Nancy shook her head. “No. He's dead.”

“Dead!” Dirk jumped up, and his face turned white. “But I just . . .” His voice trailed off, and he ran his fingers back through his hair.

Nancy was about to press Dirk for more information when Detective Quinones came over to them. “Now tell me what you know about this red-haired thief,” the detective said, fixing Dirk with his eyes.

Dirk slumped back against the police car. “His name is Jimmy Sandia. He races here, that's all. I don't know him very well.”

“Didn't you buy a car part from him?” Nancy pressed.

Dirk cracked a knuckle before answering. “Yeah. Jets for my carburetor. So what? Lots of people sell parts.”

Nancy had a feeling Dirk wasn't telling everything he knew. He'd heard Bess say the car thief had a red ponytail. He must have guessed it was Jimmy.

Turning back to Detective Quinones, Nancy said, “I looked inside Sandia's truck and saw an engine block with the VIN ground out.” She was taking a chance in letting Dirk overhear her, but she wanted to see how he'd react.

“Maybe he made a little money on the side selling the parts the chop shop couldn't use,” Quinones guessed.

“Jimmy selling stolen parts?” Dirk broke
into the conversation. “That's crazy. I really resent that you'd think I'd buy hot parts. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Flashing Nancy an accusing look, he went on, “Anyway, Jimmy always locks his truck, so it sounds to me like you broke into it. Are you a cop or something? I mean, what's going on here?”

Nancy stared at Dirk without replying. He seemed more angry than worried, and he was surprised to hear about Jimmy selling stolen parts. Her gut feeling was that he was telling the truth—unless he was a very good actor.

Just then, two cars pulled up and half a dozen officers got out—the homicide squad and lab technicians, Nancy assumed. As they went about their jobs, she couldn't help but wonder if one of them was the bad cop, and if so which one. She had to trust that Detective Quinones could control that side of the investigation.

By this time other people were milling around them curiously. The police quickly roped the area off. Nancy turned as another car roared up, spraying dust everywhere. Stan Powderly opened the door and got out.

“Where's B.D.?” Quinones asked, a note of exasperation in his voice. “I couldn't get him on his radio.”

Detective Powderly shrugged. “Who knows? He's been disappearing a lot lately. So what've we got?” He glanced at Nancy and Bess.

“The famous
detective
, Ms. Drew, still insists
on snooping around,” Quinones said, adopting a sudden, gruff attitude toward Nancy. “Well, she stumbled over something she didn't expect to find. Our car thief is dead.”

Quinones gestured to the garage, and he and Powderly went in.

“You're a detective?” Dirk asked Nancy when the police officers had gone.

“The best,” Bess said proudly.

Dirk's face flushed red with anger. “Now I get it. You guys are just hanging around the track trying to catch a car thief. You don't even care about being with me.”

“No!” Bess exclaimed. “You invited us before my car was even stolen.”

Dirk glanced doubtfully from Nancy to Bess, a frown creasing his forehead.

“But it does look as though some of your friends are involved,” Nancy said softly.

“Jimmy Sandia was
not
my friend!” Dirk burst out.

“I'm not talking about Jimmy. I'm talking about Kitty,” Nancy told him.

“Kitty?” Bess and Dirk said at the same time.

Nancy nodded. “I heard her talking to Jimmy in the garage before he was murdered. When she stormed out, she was carrying a wrench in her hand. She might have been the last person with him.”

Dirk glared at Nancy. “Kitty Lambert would never hurt anyone,” he said angrily. “I don't care what you saw. Now I'd appreciate it
if you two would leave the track. I don't like you accusing my friends.”

“What about your race?” Bess asked. “I thought you wanted us to see it.”

“Forget it. Fans like you I can do without!” Turning abruptly, Dirk stormed off.