The Case of the Artful Crime (6 page)

With a creak, the heavy door fell open a crack, but no one appeared. Nancy realized someone was
letting her out but was not going to show him or herself. He or she might be sneaking out of the kitchen right now.

“Stop!” Nancy cried, bounding out of the refrigerator.

A shadowy figure was already near the back of the kitchen. A moment later, Nancy heard the door slam as the culprit dashed outside.

Racing across the kitchen, Nancy pulled the door open in time to see a man caught in the beam of the motion detector light. For a second she saw him—short and broad-shouldered with a dark knit hat covering his hair. In the next moment, he ran out of the light's field. The light snapped off, and he was engulfed in darkness.

Nancy chased him out into the lot. The light snapped on as she stood beneath it, and she could see that the lot was empty. No car engine sounded. The man seemed to have disappeared into the night air.

A fat raindrop hit Nancy's brow, and a sprinkling of drops began to fall around her. She turned and went back into the restaurant. She had to call Shawn and tell him what she'd discovered. Someone had to catch those mice!

Deciding to use the phone in Shawn's office, Nancy headed across the dining room and up the stairs.

Inside the office, she clicked on the overhead light, then made her way to the phone. Fortunately, Shawn's number was one of five numbers listed on
his instant-dial machine. Three other numbers belonged to food, linen, and beverage suppliers. The fourth was marked Loreen.

Nancy hit the button marked Home, and the phone automatically dialed Shawn. “Hello, this is Shawn. I can't come to the phone right now . . . ” his answering machine responded.

Nancy spoke when the machine's tone sounded. “Shawn, this is Nancy. There's trouble at the restaurant. I'll wait for you here another half hour. After that, call me at home.”

She left her number, hung up the phone, and settled into Shawn's swiveling leather office chair. I've seen that man who ran from the kitchen before, she mused. Yet she couldn't remember where.

Resting her head back on the chair, Nancy closed her eyes. She let the image of the man running through the parking lot play through her head. She saw his shoulders, his black shirt, his knit hat.

This mental instant replay revealed something to her that she'd missed. She had seen the man's sideburns and the back of his hair. His hair was silvery gray.

Nancy's eyes flew open. “Jack!” It wasn't just the hair. It was his build, his way of moving, everything. She was sure it was him.

“Case closed,” she said, getting out of the chair. “Almost.” She still needed a motive. It probably had something to do with Shawn's deal with Jack. Maybe Jack thought Shawn had underpaid him and he was getting even. Perhaps there were bad feelings
between Shawn and Jack, something Shawn was too embarrassed to reveal.

Nancy was no longer content to sit and wait for Shawn. Why wasn't he home? Maybe he was home but had gone to sleep. Nancy debated driving to his house and waking him up. Surely he'd want to know what she'd uncovered.

Turning off the light, Nancy headed back down the stairs. As she opened the front door, she saw that the rainstorm was in full fury, spattering the front lot with its driving torrents.

Nancy was about to dash to her car when she remembered the open refrigerator door. There was no sense letting all Shawn's food spoil.

Closing the front door gently, she turned back toward the kitchen. A clap of thunder exploded overhead, followed by the flash of jagged lightning in the windows.

In that split second of brightness, Nancy spotted another dark figure in the dining room!

Nancy flattened herself against the hallway wall. Her heart was hammering in her ears as she wondered if the intruder had heard her. She hoped that the thunder and rain had masked the sound of her footsteps.

Moving soundlessly, she made her way to the entrance of the dining room and crouched low, near the reservations stand.

The person inside the dark dining room was staring at one of the paintings on the wall. His eyes had obviously adjusted to the darkness, since he
didn't use a light. From the man's height alone, Nancy could tell it was not Jack. This person was of medium build. Baggy clothing disguised the rest of the physical outline, though Nancy was fairly sure that it was a man.

What was going on? Why was the intruder standing there like that?

Then, with one startlingly swift gesture, the figure raised his arm. Nancy saw the glimmer of the knife in his hand as it swung over his head—then slashed through the painting's canvas!

Again and again the man pierced the painting with his knife. Then he began to slash the painting beside it.

Alone in the dark, Nancy knew it would be foolish to confront an intruder with a knife. Instead, she would have to follow him—preferably from the safety of her car.

Then a horrible thought hit her. What if Shawn showed up? He might run into the knife-wielding intruder. Nancy shuddered. She had no choice but to wait outside. That way she could intercept Shawn, or be ready to tail the intruder as soon as he got into his car.

Stealthily, Nancy made her way back to the front door. She slipped through and ran out into the pouring rain. Splattering through puddles, she raced around to the windowless side of the building.

There, parked by the building, was a compact black sedan. Obviously the intruder had expected
to be alone at this hour. She noted the license plate: RV5-289. There was no time to investigate any further. She ran to the dumpster, glad she'd thought to hide her car away behind it.

Thunder clapped overhead as Nancy stood behind the dumpster and peered around it. What a night! she thought, shaking her head wearily as the rain soaked her clothing. A few minutes later, the man emerged from the front of the building and got into his car. Nancy hoped a flash of lightning would shed some light on him, but it didn't come quickly enough. The storm was beginning to move away.

As soon as the man turned on his ignition, Nancy got into her Mustang. She pulled out from behind the dumpster in time to see him heading up the dirt road away from the Arizona House. She decided to risk leaving her headlights off as they traveled along the road. Accelerating slightly, she followed the red points of his taillights through the rain.

After half a mile, the car turned into a more residential section. Nancy slowed and fell back. She'd have to turn on her lights now or risk being stopped by the police. It was late, and there were hardly any other cars on the road. Nancy knew she would need to stay well behind to avoid being spotted.

The car's driver didn't seem to be in any hurry. That was a good sign. He didn't realize she was following him. Nancy tailed him past the expensive homes in the area and was surprised when the car
slowed down and stopped in front of the Wainwright estate.

What was he looking for? What connection did the Wainwright estate have with this man? But just as the thoughts flashed through Nancy's mind, she realized she had a more pressing problem. How was she going to avoid being noticed now?

She had no other choice. She continued driving past the car and made a right into the first available cross street, several yards ahead. Nancy pulled to the curb and cut her lights. She would have to wait for the car to pass before she could tail it again.

Nancy had to wait five minutes before the sedan passed. This time, its tires squealed as it raced down the street. Startled, Nancy could barely start her car fast enough. Though she was still within the speed limit, Nancy didn't like to drive so fast in a storm. Her wipers slapped furiously, sending rivers of water streaming off the sides of her car. Her hands gripped the wheel as she concentrated on keeping control of the car.

Was the intruder now trying to shake her tail? It seemed so. Nancy let up on the gas. If she fell back a little, maybe he would think she was gone. She'd risk losing him, but it was a risk worth taking.

The sedan turned onto the highway that ran along the outskirts of River Heights. Nancy followed it. On the open road, the sedan sped even faster, but the conditions made it easier for Nancy to keep track of the car, even at a distance. She saw
it turn off at the exit leading into the seediest section of River Heights.

A traffic light at the end of the exit had slowed the sedan's progress, and Nancy was in time to see it turn right at the light. She caught the green light and regained sight of the car, which was about a block ahead of her.

The storm was slowing to a drizzle now. Nancy followed the sedan for two more dark, shabby blocks. Without warning, the sedan turned sharply into a brightly lit twenty-four-hour drive-through car wash.

A car wash? Nancy thought, puzzled.

Forgetting caution, Nancy pulled into the lot just as the sedan disappeared behind the cloth flaps that dangled over the car wash entrance. She had him now. When the car emerged under the bright spotlight, Nancy would be waiting, ready to get a clear view of the driver. She might even confront him. It would be safer out in the open.

Without hesitating, Nancy drove past the confused attendant. She parked her car around front, blocking the exit of the car wash. She waited. Slowly, the front end of the black sedan emerged, riding on the washer conveyor belt.

Newly washed and waxed, the hood gleamed. Finally, the windshield emerged. Nancy stared into the car through the glistening glass.

The car was empty.

Nancy waited. She was sure the driver was merely crouched in his seat. He wouldn't stay there forever.

Three minutes passed, and Nancy couldn't stand to wait any longer. Keeping low, she left her car and crept alongside the sedan to a rear window. She carefully peeked into the car. The keys were still in the ignition, but the car was completely empty!

Nancy moved to the trunk. It was locked. Just to be sure, she grabbed the keys from the ignition and opened the trunk. Empty.

He's still in the car wash, Nancy decided, sprinting to the entrance.

“Hey, lady!” cried the attendant as Nancy brushed aside the heavy cloth flaps covering the opening. “You can't go in there.”

Ignoring the attendant, Nancy ran into the center of the dark, dripping car wash.

“Lady, are you nuts?” asked the short, thin attendant as he came into the car wash behind her.

“The man who drove that car, where is he?” Nancy asked urgently.

The attendant shrugged. “Isn't he in his car?”

“No,” Nancy replied. “Is there a light in here?”

The attendant stepped to the side and flipped a switch. The garagelike room, filled with hoses, sprayers, and brushes, was suddenly bright. Nancy and the attendant were clearly the only ones inside.

“You must have seen the man when he paid you,” Nancy said. “What did he look like?”

The attendant's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You mean, you don't even know this guy?”

“I'm a detective. I was trailing him,” Nancy explained. “What does he look like?”

The attendant folded his arms. “Hard to say. He had on dark glasses, which was weird, since it's nighttime. But we get all kinds of crazies in this neighborhood.”

“What color hair?” Nancy urged.

“I don't know. He had on a tweed cap, I think.”

“Any scars, a mustache,
anything?”
Nancy asked.

“Hey, I'm no FBI agent,” the attendant replied irritably. “I don't inspect the customers. I just take their money and pass them through. He was a guy wearing sunglasses and a cap. That's all I know.”

“He must have slipped out the back,” Nancy told herself, walking to the rear entrance. Behind the car wash was a low fence, which surrounded a row of tall warehouse buildings with unlit alleys. Nancy
guessed that the driver had hopped the fence and disappeared down one of the alleys.

It was now obvious to Nancy that he'd realized she was following him. Her ploy of hanging back hadn't worked.

“What am I supposed to do with his car?” asked the attendant, coming up behind Nancy.

She threw him the keys. “Pull it to the side. I'm going to contact the police. They'll come pick it up. If the driver returns, please call me right away. My name is Nancy Drew, and I'm listed in the phone book. And try to get a good look at him if he comes back, okay?”

“Will do,” the attendant said with a shrug.

“Thanks,” Nancy said as she headed back to her car.

“Hey, wait!” the attendant called. “I just remembered something. The guy had strange hands. They looked kind of like plastic.”

“Thanks,” Nancy called back again as she climbed into her Mustang. Surgical gloves, she thought. They could be bought at any surgical supply store. That meant there wouldn't be a single fingerprint anywhere.

As Nancy drove back onto the highway, she looked at her watch. It was one in the morning. It was a good thing she had taken a nap. Besides, she was now super-charged from the excitement.

Dark glasses and a tweed cap, she thought, mulling over the attendant's description. She was fairly sure he hadn't worn those at the restaurant.
He must have had them in the car and put them on to avoid being recognized in any way by the attendant. It seemed she was dealing with a quick-thinking adversary.

Nancy pulled into a highway gas station and used the pay phone to call Shawn. Once again, his machine answered, but this time he'd recorded a message for her: “Nancy. I got your message. I'm at the restaurant. Please come down or call me as soon as you hear this.”

In about ten minutes Nancy was back at the Arizona House. The restaurant was completely lit up. This time she pulled into the front lot right next to Shawn's car and a River Heights police car.

As soon as she walked through the front door Shawn hurried to meet her. He was dressed in jeans and a sport shirt, and his hair was mussed, as if he'd run out the minute he got her message.