Hotline to Danger (8 page)

“And I'll take the meatball sub.” George grinned. “With mozzarella and green peppers.”

When Lil left, George leaned closer to Nancy. “So what do we do now? Ask Ernie if Billie worked here Monday night?”

Nancy looked around. “I don't even know if there is an Ernie.”

“Sure there is. He's in the back adding gallons of hot sauce to the chili.”

Nancy started to laugh but then put a finger to her lips. “Here comes Lil. Let me do the talking.” She waited until the waitress had set the drinks on the table, then said, “My friend and I were in here Monday night, late—between ten and midnight—and I left my jacket in the booth.”

“Uh-huh,” Lil said in a bored voice.

“I thought maybe our waitress might have picked it up. I think her name was Billie.”

Lil tapped her lips with her pencil, stuck out one hip, and thought a second. “Yeah. Billie was working late last night. But she didn't say anything about picking up a jacket. Sorry.”

“Did you hear that?” George whispered when Lil left. “Billie
was
working the night Paul was murdered.”

“Right.” Nancy nodded excitedly. “And if she's lying to protect Kip, that means he must have something to hide—like the murder of Paul Remer!”

M
AYBE
B
ILLIE LIED
about the argument between Rachel and Mrs. Thackett, too,” Nancy said to George.

“Wow. Maybe Billie will do anything to protect Kip,” George replied.

Just then Lil brought their orders. Nancy's stomach began to growl when she saw the juicy Ernie Burger. She hadn't realized how hungry she was.

When Lil left, George asked, “What are we going to do now?”

“As soon as we finish eating, we need to head back to the center to talk to Billie,” Nancy said as she picked up her burger. “She's got some explaining to do!”

• • •

An hour later George and Nancy were standing in the doorway to the rec room. Kids were playing cards and video games. Billie was talking on the pay phone, a serious expression on her face. Her cheeks paled when she saw the two girls, and she hung up quickly.

“I wonder who she was talking to,” George said in a low voice.

“Kip, I bet,” Nancy whispered back, then strode over to the phone. Before Billie could get past her, Nancy grabbed her arm.

“Hey, Billie, George and I just had a nice meal at Ernie's,” she said in a casual tone.

Billie grunted and looked away from her.

“Yeah. And we met a friend of yours named Lil,” George added.

Billie looked sideways at the two of them. “And I bet you asked Lil if I worked Monday night.”

Nancy raised one brow. “How'd you guess?”

Sighing, Billie pulled her arm from Nancy's grasp. “That was Kip I was talking to. He was really mad at me. He said it would only hurt him if I didn't tell you the truth.”

“And what
is
the truth?” Nancy asked.

Billie motioned for Nancy and George to follow her into the hallway. Compared to the rec room, it was fairly quiet. “The truth is Kip had nothing to do with Paul's murder, only he has no alibi.” Billie swung around to face Nancy. “And without an alibi, he's dead meat.”

“Hmmm.” Crossing her arms, Nancy stared at Billie. The girl met her gaze without flinching. She
is
telling the truth, Nancy decided, or at least she thinks she is.

“How about if I meet with Kip and let him tell me the whole story?” Nancy asked. “Then I can go to the police. Maybe they'll believe me.”

“You'd have to meet him alone,” Billie said.

“No way, Nancy,” George said quickly. “That's too dangerous.”

“Not if it will clear Kip,” Nancy told her friend. “If he
is
innocent, the police need to be searching for the real killer.”

“I'll call and arrange it,” Billie said. “But it will have to be on our terms.”

“I understand.”

“Nancy,” George said, pulling her friend aside when Billie went back into the rec room. “You can't do this alone.”

“I don't have any choice,” Nancy replied. “If you were Kip, would you trust anyone?”

“No, I guess not. Still—”

“It's done.” Billie marched back into the hallway a few minutes later. “Ten o'clock tonight. Drive to the warehouse where Paul was killed. Park in front, then walk to the tracks. If you're alone and we don't smell any cops, we'll find you.”

Nancy nodded. Billie eyed her warily for a second.

“I hope we can trust you, Nancy,” she said in a low voice, then strode to the front door, flung it open, and left.

“Whew,” George gasped. “You're at least going to let me wait in the car, right?”

Nancy shook her head. “I can't, George. If Kip senses that I haven't followed their directions, he may never come out of hiding. And then this case could really stall, especially since it doesn't look like the police are any closer to finding Rachel.”

“Yeah. I guess you're right,” George said, but she was still frowning.

“Look, nothing's going to happen,” Nancy assured her friend. “But if I don't call you by eleven o'clock tonight, you have my permission to contact B.D. and tell him everything.”

“Hey, guys, what's up?” a voice asked behind them.

Nancy and George spun around to see Bess and Kyle entering the teen center. Bess's eyes were red and puffy. Kyle had a sheepish expression on his face.

“We thought we might find you here,” Bess said. Reaching out, George gave Bess a hug. “Are you all right?”

Bess looked over at Kyle, then back at her cousin. “Yeah. Kyle and I talked about his leaving and, well, I'm pretty upset, but I think we've worked it out. So where have you guys been?”

Nancy smiled. “That's a long story. Are you here for your self-defense class?”

Kyle nodded. “We thought we'd see if you two wanted some dinner first.”

“We just ate,” George said. “But we'll keep you company.”

Nancy winked at George. “We know the perfect place—Ernie's Grill. And, Kyle, they have your favorite dish just the way you like it—red-hot chili!”

• • •

At ten o'clock sharp, Nancy pulled the Mustang up to the warehouse and parked. She turned off the car lights but hesitated before getting out.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, she thought. She was alone at a deserted warehouse where someone had been killed. What if Kip
was
guilty? What if he figured Nancy knew too much and needed to be eliminated?

Nancy shook her head, trying to drive away her thoughts. Kip wouldn't be stupid enough to do anything to her, too. That would be too risky.

Besides, this meeting was important. When she'd called B.D. after dinner, he told her they'd found Paul's prints on the envelope, as well as some other prints they couldn't identify, so they had no idea where the money had come from. Also, one of the officers had checked Mrs. Thackett's alibi for Monday night. The ticket taker and two other patrons remembered
seeing her arrive at the theater just before eight o'clock.

Taking a deep breath, Nancy opened the car door and swung her legs out. So if Mrs. Thackett had an alibi, that meant Nancy had to figure out if Kip was innocent or just a clever con artist.

Nancy walked slowly down the long drive. Except for the crunching of gravel under her feet, the night was silent.

Where was Kip hiding? she wondered. She remembered B.D. telling her that the gang sometimes met in the old railroad cars.

When she reached the tracks, Nancy stopped and looked around. The moon peeped from behind billowing clouds. She shivered as the wind raced down the tracks. The old railroad cars loomed dark and empty to the right of her. Still, Nancy felt as if eyes were watching her from every shadow.

One cautious step at a time, Nancy made her way down the tracks toward the cars. A noise made her freeze midstep. It was only a soft thud, but Nancy could tell it came from the boxcar nearest her.

“Billie? Are you there?” Nancy called. When there was no answer, she huddled into her down jacket, trying to stop her shoulders from shaking as she walked toward the boxcar.

Nancy peered around the side of the car, but it was so dark she couldn't see anything. She
opened her shoulder bag and pulled out her flashlight. But before she could flick it on, a hand clamped down over her mouth and another one grabbed her wrist.

The flashlight clattered to the tracks as Nancy's arm was twisted behind her back and she was pulled roughly backward against someone's chest.

W
ITH HER FREE ARM
, Nancy struck out behind her, but the grip on her wrist tightened painfully, and the fingers over her mouth squeezed her cheeks.

“If you know what's good for you,” a voice behind her whispered, “you'll come quietly. All right?”

Nancy nodded and dropped her arm. Without letting go of her, the person pushed her forward. She was guided past the boxcar and up to the ladder of an old caboose.

“Hey! Joey! I need some help here,” the voice called, and Nancy knew who her captor was—Billie!

A tall, gangly kid stepped onto the outside platform of the caboose. He grabbed Nancy by
the arm and hauled her up the rungs of the ladder.

“Sorry about the rough treatment,” Billie said as she swung up next to Nancy. “But we had to make sure you came by yourself. Kip's inside.” Billie motioned toward the door of the caboose.

Arms folded, Joey stood to one side. Nancy poked her head into the caboose. Faint streaks of moonlight filtered through the conductor's lookout, and she saw half a dozen faces staring at her.

A lighter flicked on, and a tall guy with hooded gray eyes stepped from the shadows. Thrusting the flame in Nancy's face, he studied her carefully.

“So you're the P.I.,” he commented.

Nancy shielded her eyes from the dancing light. “Yes. Nancy Drew. And you're—”

“Kip DiFranco.” He flicked the lighter off and held out his hand.

“And this is my gang.” Kip waved Nancy farther inside. From what she could make out in the moonlight, everybody was wearing a black leather jacket with the letter
N
studded onto the front.

“So, you're working with the cops,” Kip said. “I've read about you in the newspaper. You've solved some pretty wild crimes.”

“Some.” Nancy stood very straight, hoping her voice sounded strong.

Everyone glared suspiciously at her except for
Kip, who eyed her coolly, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.

“So, Ms. Private Investigator, how can we help each other?” he asked.

“I want to catch the person who murdered Paul Remer.”

Kip nodded. “Me, too. Not that I'm all choked up because he's dead,” he added, “I just don't like being accused of something I didn't do.”

“And what proof is there that you're innocent?”

“I don't have any. That's my problem. I crashed early last night. And I was alone in my apartment. And since I supposedly have a motive for the killing, the cops are going to pin this on me no matter what.”

“What do you mean, a motive?” Nancy asked.

Kip's eyes hardened. “Search her,” he told Billie, without answering Nancy's question.

Billie ran expert hands down Nancy's sides and back. “She's clean.”

“Good.” Kip nodded. “If we'd found a wire on you, you would've been in trouble. But since you're clean, I'll tell you the truth. I would have loved to see Paul Remer run out of town. He almost landed me in jail on a burglary charge.”

Nancy frowned.

As if in answer to her unasked question, he said, “Yeah. I pulled the job, and because of Remer, the cops caught me. I had an alibi all set
up. Friends of mine swore to the police that I was playing pool all night at Ernie's. Only Paul decided to rat on me. He told the cops I wasn't playing pool and that he saw me outside the drugstore minutes before it was robbed.”