Sinister Paradise (4 page)

“Who?” Diana rushed to the window.

Nancy tried to stop her. “
Don't!
He'll see you—”

Too late! Diana's outline broke the shaft of light. Glancing at the street, Nancy saw the moon-faced man flinch. He averted his face at once and turned away, heading for the nightclub district with a hasty stride.

No doubt about it. He was spying on Lisa's bedroom. And now he was getting away!

C
OME ON
, N
ED
!”

Nancy dashed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. She reached the front door in thirty seconds, yanked it open, and rushed onto the outdoor balcony.

She just caught a glimpse of the man's Hawaiian shirt in the park across the street. Then a bus hissed to a stop at the curb. The dark-haired man jumped aboard. With a throaty rumble, the bus lumbered away. She'd lost him!

Ned came up behind her. “Great try, Nancy. We would've had him if we'd been on the first floor.”

They turned and headed back into the apartment.
Diana was waiting at the door, her face tense. “Who was that man?” she asked.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Nancy replied.

“I haven't any idea. I've never seen anyone hanging around in front of our building. Do you think he had something to do with Lisa's running away?”

“He may have. But I'll tell you one thing, Ms. Faulkner.” Nancy tilted her head toward the window. “If that man or anyone had anything to do with Lisa's disappearance, then your daughter may be in a lot of trouble. I'd think long and hard about calling the police. I'd think
really
hard.”

Diana swallowed hard. “Wha—what are we going to do?”

“We're going to find Lisa,” Nancy said simply. She asked for permission to borrow the photo cube. Diana consented readily, and Ned hurried upstairs to fetch it.

Diana sat down slowly, her head bowed. Tears collected in the lower rims of her eyes. “I—I tried my best.” She began to sob. “I did! We just c-could n-never talk to each other. Please try to understand that.”

Nancy touched the woman's shoulder as Ned arrived with the photo cube. Without a word, Nancy tilted her chin toward the door. She and Ned left quietly, and she closed the door gingerly behind her.

“What do we do now?” asked Ned, escorting her back to the parking lot.

“Go to Lisa's school first thing tomorrow and find out who her friends are. We'll talk to them.” Nancy opened her car door. “Maybe they can tell us where she might have gone.”

Ned dropped into the passenger seat. “You look pretty grim, Nancy. What is it?”

“I'm feeling pretty grim.” Nancy turned the ignition key. “I don't like the way this is shaping up, Ned. Mrs. Faulkner hires me to find her missing granddaughter. A company I never heard of tries to kill us. An unknown man has Lisa's home under surveillance. What's the connection?”

Ned shrugged. “You've got me.”

“It's not what we know,” Nancy replied, shifting into reverse. “It's what we
don't
know! And in a case like this, what we don't know can get us all killed!”

• • •

Promptly at eight the next morning Nancy drove into the parking lot of Roosevelt High School. Bright sunshine dappled the huge lawn and isolated coconut palms of the campus.

Bess stepped out of the car, turning her face toward the sun. “Glorious!” she said. “If I lived in Honolulu, I'd have the worst attendance record in school.”

Nancy smiled and pulled on the brake. Earlier that morning Bess and George had volunteered
to go undercover at the school, to try to learn more about Lisa. Ned had offered to talk to the custodians.

“First stop for me is the principal's office,” Bess announced. “I'll pretend to be a transfer student. Maybe I can get a look at Lisa's file.”

“I'm going to the guidance office,” George said.

Ned grinned. “It's the boiler room for me.”

Nancy stepped out of the car. “Okay, we've all got investigating to do. Let's meet back here at ten-thirty. Good hunting.”

The first bell jangled as Nancy was crossing the campus. Kids in jeans and button-down shirts ambled into the cinderblock building, jostling and laughing with one another. Threading her way through the crowd, Nancy headed down the hall.

Although she had Lisa's photo, Nancy was reluctant to show it around. The minute she did, she'd be marked as an outsider. So she drifted from group to group—introducing herself as a transfer student, seeking out the class gossips, dropping a question here and there.

By the time the homeroom bell rang, Nancy had learned a number of things about RHS. Karen Rothenberg was running for junior class president. Super-hunk Troy Shepherd had broken up with Marcia Kirtland. And Lisa Trumbull's best friend was named Dawn Burnham.

A girl pointed out Dawn's homeroom. Nancy
took up a position by the door. Ten minutes later, the electric bell cut loose with an earsplitting clang and kids streamed into the hallway. Nancy spotted Dawn at once.

“Hi, Dawn! Wait up a minute, will you?” Nancy followed behind her.

Dawn halted and turned, an inquiring expression on her face. Nancy answered the unspoken question. “I'm Nancy Drew. I just transferred in.”

Dawn smiled uncertainly. “Maybe I've seen you around.”

Nancy fell into step beside the girl. “I was wondering if you and Lisa Trumbull could help me.”

“Depends.” Dawn shrugged, hugging her books close.

“My dad's in the navy. Just got transferred to Pearl,” Nancy said smoothly. “When we lived in Florida, I was in a flying club. I want to join one here.”

Dawn's eyes lit up. “You're into flying? Fixed or rotary wing?”

“Rotary.” Nancy was suddenly glad that Ned had talked her into learning to fly a couple of years ago.

“Oh, boy! Lisa is sure going to want to meet you.” Dawn grinned as the two of them hurried along. “Lisa and I belong to a flying club in Wailuha. Lisa's way ahead of me, though. She's got her pilot's license and instrument rating, and
she's about ten hours away from getting her rotary-wing ticket. Lisa loves choppers. Last summer, at camp in California, she went up in a Huey, and it was love at first sight.”

“She went to flight school in California?”

“No, just summer camp. Picasso sent her to a ranch near Bishop.”

“Picasso?”

“Lisa's mom. Di the Artist. Usually, Lisa hated being sent away like that. But this gave her a chance to be with Michele again.”

“Michele?” Nancy prodded.

“Yeah. Michele Woodbridge.” Dawn's sigh was nostalgic. “Me, Lisa, and Michele used to hang out together in junior high. We were real close, all three of us. Then Michele's parents got a divorce, and she moved to San Francisco with her mom.” A sad look came over Dawn's face. “By that point, things were getting pretty nasty for Lisa at home, too. Her mother's latest marriage was breaking up. Lisa told me her mother and that Rafferty guy used to fight like cats and dogs. Flying kitchenware and everything!” Dawn shook her head. “Boy, when I think back, it sure wasn't easy for Lisa. Di used to fight with all of her husbands. When we were little, Lisa practically lived at Michele's house—”

Brrrinnnnng!
The late bell jangled mercilessly. Dawn cast a worried look at her classroom. There was time for only one more question.

“San Francisco? You guys must really miss Michele. Do you stay in touch?”

“Lisa does. She writes once a week. Me, I'm no writer. Listen, Nancy, I've got to go. See you at lunch?”

“One of these days. Take care, Dawn.”

Doing a brisk about-face, Nancy headed up the corridor. Ned and Bess met her halfway. “Did you learn anything?” Ned asked.

“A little. I think now I understand why Lisa ran away.” Nancy turned to Bess. “How'd you make out?”

“Not so well. I got into the central filing system, but all I found was Lisa's locker number—four-forty-seven,” Bess replied.

“How'd you manage that?” asked Ned.

“Easy. I told the main secretary I was a transfer student. She asked me for my transcript, and I told her it was back home in North Dakota. When she went into the principal's office to make the call privately, I sneaked a peek.”

“North Dakota?” Nancy echoed.

“Yeah, I told her I was Bess Summers from Grand Forks, North Dakota. I figured that would keep her on the phone for a while,” Bess added proudly.

Nancy cleared her throat. “Bess, did you stop to think what will happen when she calls Grand Forks and finds out Bess Summers doesn't exist?”

Just then, the overhead intercom blared, “Bess
Summers, report to the front office. Bess Summers, report to the office
immediately
!”

“Better go hide in the car,” Nancy suggested. “Your cover is blown!”

Ned hurried down the hall. “I'll go look for George.”

“Good idea. I'll be along in a few minutes.” Nancy took off in the opposite direction. She had something she wanted to try.

Nancy found Lisa's locker in the science section. Kneeling, she put her ear to the steel. Her fingers turned the dial to the left. A musical
ting!
sounded. Taking a deep breath, she reversed the turn ever so slowly. Once, twice around the dial, then—
ting!
She wiped her sweating fingers on her pants leg, then painstakingly moved the dial to the left again.
Ting!

Nancy stood up and gave the handle a quick tug. The door swung open. Immediately Nancy noticed a colorful bit of paper on the top shelf. She pulled it free. It was an airline brochure, a schedule of flights and departure times. One line was circled in ink.

FLIGHT 227 HNL-SFC 2:30
P.M.

Familiar with airline codes, Nancy knew that HNL-SFC stood for “Honolulu to San Francisco.” She grinned excitedly. It was all coming together now. She pulled out the note she had taken from Lisa's bedroom.

Miss Mi

1276 Pr

San Fra

Now it's clear, Nancy thought.
Mi
stands for
Michele
. Michele Woodbridge. And Michele lives in
San Francisco.

Now Nancy understood how Lisa had pulled it off. Lisa had been angry when she wrote to Michele. Perhaps she had hinted at leaving home for good. Perhaps Michele had offered her a place to stay. Lisa's big problem had been getting the airfare to fly out of Honolulu. And Diana had solved that problem when she had sent Lisa to the bank. Only Lisa had never made it to the airport. She was still out there. . . .

Suddenly a brawny hand closed around Nancy's wrist. She gasped.

“What are you doing here?” a man's voice growled in her ear.

T
URNING
, N
ANCY LOOKED
into a nugged face. The man was big and broad-shouldered. He looked like a boxer with more losses than wins. Beside him stood a tall, goateed black man. They were both too old for high school.

“I asked you a question,” the first man muttered. His grip tightened on Nancy's wrist.

Nancy's heart thudded against her rib cage as the man backed her up against the locker.

At that moment a teacher stepped out of the biology lab and came forward, her face stern. “Gentlemen, I'll have to ask you to leave. If you don't stop bothering that girl, I'll call the police!”

The white man sighed. He reached into his
blazer, produced a wallet, and flipped it open. A silver badge gleamed. “We
are
the police.”

“We'll handle things from here on in, ma'am,” the black man said, leading Nancy away. He clucked his tongue in reproof. “Breaking into other people's lockers? Young lady, it looks as though you've got some detention time ahead of you.”

“Wait a minute!” Nancy said. “I'm not a student here. My name is Nancy Drew. I'm a private investigator from the mainland. I'm trying to find Lisa Trumbull. She's run away.”