Hotline to Danger (13 page)

Nancy gulped. She knew if she lied, she might lose Rachel's trust. “No. But—”

Before the door could slam shut, Nancy stuck
her foot in the crack. Then B.D. whirled to her side and shoved the door open with both hands.

Rachel fell backward onto the bed. With a cry of pain, she raised her arms in front of her face as if to shield herself from a blow.

“It's all right!” Nancy rushed to the girl's side, slid her arm around her shoulders and held her close. “This is Detective Hawkins, Rachel. He's here to help you.”

B.D. leaned down. “Hey. I'm a good guy.” He grinned at her.

Lowering her arms, Rachel laid her head on Nancy's shoulder and started to cry with exhaustion. Nancy hugged her closer, then glanced around the tiny room. The bed took up most of one side. On the other side was a narrow closet, and next to it, a door leading into a bathroom. The bedroom had a window that opened to a fire escape.

“I'm sorry,” Rachel sobbed. “I guess I really am glad to see you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but—now I'm so tired and hungry and confused, I don't know what I'm doing.”

B.D. jumped up and waved to the officer in the hallway. “Get us something hot and nourishing to eat. Soup, tea, whatever. And make it quick,” he called, then sat down on the other side of Rachel. “Hey. You need to quit running and let us help. That's what we're here for.”

“I know.” Rachel sniffed. Nancy pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it to her.

Rachel wiped her cheeks, then blew her nose. “Only I'm not running from the police,” she whispered. “I'm running from that night. From that horrible nightmare. Because—” She shuddered and her eyes filled with tears. “I saw my mother kill Paul!”

Y
OU ACTUALLY SAW
your mother kill Paul?” Nancy exclaimed.

Rachel dabbed her freckled cheeks with the tissue. “No. But I know who it was. Paul came to Billie's apartment on Monday night. He was really upset. He said he had a meeting with someone at ten o'clock. When he said it was by the warehouse, I got really worried because that's where the members of his old gang hang out.”

She gulped, then went on. “But I didn't have a car, so I had to call a cab. By the time I made it to the back of the warehouse, all I saw was my mother standing over the body. The headlights of her car were on, so I saw her clearly.”

She looked up at B.D., then at Nancy, tears filling her eyes again. “I knew she wanted to kill Paul. She hated him because she thought he was
the reason I wouldn't come home. She'd already tried to pay him off with five thousand dollars!”

Rachel's shoulders stiffened. “Monday morning I went up to Paul's room. He showed me the money. I couldn't believe it! For eighteen years she's run my life as if I were a prize show dog. Now she was trying to pay off the first guy who ever liked me just for myself.” She gave Nancy a sad smile. “Paul told me he was giving the money back to her.”

Then abruptly, she stood up, her cheeks flushed with anger. “So when he came over to Billie's apartment that night, I figured it was her he was meeting behind the warehouse. When he gave her back the money and told her he was still going to see me, she must've been so furious she killed him!”

Her arms wrapped protectively around her, Rachel looked first at Nancy, then at B.D. with an expression of despair. “I knew my mother would do anything to get me away from Paul, but I didn't think she'd kill him.”

“Why didn't you call the police?” B.D. asked.

“I couldn't turn in my own mother!” Rachel exclaimed. “I knew I had to report the murder, so I called the hotline, hoping Billie was on duty and she'd know what to do. When Nancy answered, I panicked and ran.” Her shoulders slumped. Turning, she stared vacantly out the window. “Only now—now I see that if my mother's guilty, she has to be punished.”

B.D. slapped his hand on his thigh. “Well, case closed,” he announced.

A rap on the door announced the arrival of Rachel's food. Minutes later, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, wolfing down a ham sandwich, french fries, and a chocolate milk shake. B.D. was perched on the windowsill, eating a hamburger.

When Rachel finally leaned back on the bed with a satisfied sigh, Nancy asked the questions that had been bothering her.

“Rachel, why do you think Paul gave you that envelope for the police? And when did he give it to you?”

“Monday night, when he came over to Billie's apartment. He told me about the meeting, then handed me the envelope. He said to give it to the cops if something happened.”

“Did you know what was in it?” Nancy asked.

“Look, Nan,” B.D. said as he threw his trash away. “Let's get Rachel down to the station where we can do this officially. She's got a lot of questions to answer.”

Nancy jumped up. “Wait, B.D. If Paul gave Rachel the page from the teen center account and the check and told her to go to the police if anything happened to him, then it has to have
something
to do with why he was murdered.”

Nancy swung her gaze to Rachel. “Was your mother in any way involved with the teen center? Did she ever make a donation?”

Rachel snorted. “No way. My mother hates any kids who don't look like they're headed to Harvard.”

“See?” Nancy grabbed B.D.'s arm. “There's more to this case than Rachel's mom. Paul must have found out that something shady was going on at the center. Maybe he was even in on it, but then changed his mind.”

B.D. looked unconvinced. “You already explained all that, Nancy. But now that we have Rachel's testimony, my job is to arrest Mrs. Thackett for Paul's murder.”

“But what if there's a chance the killer
isn't
Mrs. Thackett?”

B.D. crossed his arms and gave Nancy a wary look. “All right. What do you have in mind?”

“Since the phone tap and the tape recorder are still hooked up, we need to have Rachel call the hotline and tell the volunteer where she is.”

Now Rachel looked confused. “But you already know where I am.”

“Only B.D. and I know,” Nancy explained. “Whoever tapped the phone has obviously been looking for you, too. My hunch is when the real killer hears the message on the tape recorder, he or she will rush over here, pronto!”

“And we'll nab him.” B.D. suddenly looked interested.

Even Rachel brightened. “I'll do anything to help, especially if there's a chance the murderer isn't my mother.”

“No. You've done enough.” Nancy touched Rachel lightly on the hand. “I'll stay here and pretend I'm you.”

B.D. jerked his head up. “No way, Drew. You've done some crazy things before, but the police department has trained officers for situations like this.”

“Only there's no time to get one up here and brief her,” Nancy protested. “Besides, you'll be here to protect me,” she added, smiling convincingly.

B.D. rolled his eyes. “Oh, boy. Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

“Because you know I'm right,” Nancy teased. “Come on, Rachel, let's make that call, then we'll switch clothes.”

• • •

An hour later Nancy was crouched behind the closed bathroom door. She had the water running in the sink as if she were washing up. B.D. was hiding in the tiny closet, his gun drawn, the door cracked open.

Nancy was glad that Rachel was safe at the police station. She was also glad B.D. had gone along with her plan. She knew that he had enough information to arrest Mrs. Thackett. And since they'd been waiting an hour and no one had shown up, she was beginning to think he was right—that the bookkeeping page and the check in the envelope weren't related to the murder.

Nancy grimaced as she rubbed a cramp in her
left calf. Then she stuck a finger under the red wig she was wearing and scratched her scalp. Lucky for her, one of the undercover cops at the station had had it in his locker and was able to bring it over.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened with such a loud bang, Nancy almost fell over.

“Rachel!” Mrs. Thackett's voice boomed through the room. “Thank goodness I—”

Her voice was abruptly cut off by the sound of B.D. charging from the closet and yelling, “Halt! You're under arrest for the murder of Paul Remer!”

Mrs. Thackett screamed.

For a second Nancy was stunned. So Rachel's mother
had
killed Paul. Slowly, she stood up. She could hear Mrs. Thackett protesting shrilly.

When she went out into the room, B.D. was handcuffing the woman. Two other officers had rushed to the doorway when Mrs. Thackett screamed.

“I want my lawyer,” Mrs. Thackett was now demanding loudly. “You police have harassed me enough. Take these handcuffs off, right now.”

“Lady, if you were innocent, you wouldn't be here,” B.D. said. He handed her over to the tall officer. “Read Mrs. Thackett her rights, then take her down to your squad car. I'll be with you in a second.”

Still complaining noisily, Mrs. Thackett was led out the door.

“Well, Nancy, can we finally close this case?” B.D. asked her.

She nodded. “Yes. Still, it's hard to believe Mrs. Thackett hated Paul enough to kill him.”

“Let's just say she loved her daughter too much,” B.D. replied, shaking his head. “And you may be right. She might have hired someone who researched Paul's background and knew he'd had a run-in with the Nighthawks.” He sighed. “I'm sure the whole story will come out soon enough.”

“Yes, but I sure feel sorry for Rachel,” Nancy said. “She's been through a lot, and now there's even more in store for her.”

“I know. Can I give you a lift?”

Nancy glanced around the tiny room. She'd noticed some of Rachel's things in the bathroom. “Let me just get Rachel's stuff, and and I'll be down.”

B.D. smiled, then left the room.

Nancy started toward the bathroom doorway. A loud
thunk
outside the bedroom window made her freeze in her tracks. It sounded as if someone had jumped onto the metal floor of the fire escape.

She held her breath. Nothing. Exhaling with relief, Nancy pushed open the bathroom door the same second a black shape hurtled through the bedroom window.

Glass flew everywhere. Nancy ducked her head and threw her arms over her face. Then she heard a sinister chuckle, and her breath caught in her
throat. Framed in the light of the broken window was the ski-masked attacker from the alley!

Swiftly, the person pulled out a knife. With a cry, Nancy jumped backward. The knife slashed through the air as she crashed into the doorjamb.

Whoever it is must think I'm Rachel! Nancy realized in horror.

She ripped off the red wig. The black figure paused for a second, giving Nancy just enough time to make a dash for the door to the hallway.

But the figure in black got to the door ahead of her and blocked it. Glancing around for a weapon, Nancy grabbed a lamp from a small nightstand and held it in front of her.

“Don't come any closer,” she warned.

The attacker chuckled. “Always on top of things, right, Ms. Drew? Only this time, I'm afraid you made a big mistake and had the wrong person arrested.”

Reaching up, the person plucked off the ski mask.

Nancy inhaled sharply.

It was Mr. A!

T
HE DIRECTOR
of the teen center gave Nancy a sinister smile.

“So I was right,” Nancy said breathlessly. “Mrs. Thackett didn't kill Paul.”

“Which is why I need to get rid of you.” Mr. A's cheeks were flushed, and his bald head glistened with sweat. Nancy couldn't believe the mild-mannered director was the person who'd attacked her in the alley.

His eyes narrowed. “I figured once you got hold of the page from the account ledger, you'd figure it out. That's why you're more dangerous than Rachel. I only wish I'd killed you last night in the alley.”