The Cheating Heart (5 page)

N
ANCY FELT HER
stomach sink. The missing answer sheet—in Ned's possession!

“What's that?” Ned asked innocently.

Without a word, Nancy showed him the sheet of paper. She watched Ned's face go white.

“But . . . but . . .” Ned spluttered. He swallowed and began again. “I never saw this paper. I just bought the book ten minutes ago.”

Nancy looked at him with a troubled gaze. “How could it have gotten into this book?”

“I took the book off the shelf about an hour ago, just after I finished talking to Paul,” Ned recalled. “But I spent some time looking for other books I needed. I did set down my pile a couple of times while I was talking.”

Nancy nodded. “So someone could have
slipped it into your book. But why would anyone do that?”

Ned looked anxious. “Someone must be trying to frame me.”

“Yes, but who—and why?” Nancy pointed out. “I know you're innocent, Ned, but I have to tell Dean Jarvis and the professor about finding this. It'll put you under stronger suspicion, I know, but I can't suppress evidence.”

Ned agreed, reluctantly, and walked Nancy to the Theta Pi house. Nancy called the dean to tell him about the answer sheet Ned had found. Jarvis asked to meet her and Ned at his office the next morning, along with the professor.

• • •

“Hey, earth to Nickerson!” Brook teased Ned that evening. Ned, Nancy, Paul, and Brook were sitting in the auditorium in the student center, waiting for the movie to start.

Ned, who had been staring absently at the blank movie screen, shook his head. “Sorry, Brook,” he said. “What were you saying?”

“She was mocking the fine cuisine we had tonight at the Omega Chi house.” Paul said with a grin.

“Come on, Paul, you have to admit the fried chicken was a little greasy,” Brook teased back.

Nancy smiled, but she was acutely aware that Ned, sitting to her left, hadn't been himself all evening. She reached over and took his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“So what are we seeing tonight?” Paul asked.

Brook had picked up a page of notes distributed by the Emerson Film Society. “It's a sixties detective movie called
Marlowe,”
she said, reading the sheet. Paul leaned over to read it, too. Nancy saw he was using this as an excuse to lean against Brook's shoulder.

Feeling a tug on her hand, she turned to exchange a smile with Ned. He had noticed the attraction between Paul and Brook, too.

Nancy leaned against Ned's shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

Ned heaved a small sigh. “I'm not anticipating seeing the dean tomorrow.”

“Don't worry, Ned. We'll find out who's framing you,” Nancy said confidently, when she actually didn't feel so sure. She hadn't made any headway on the case yet—and she had no idea what move to make next.

• • •

The next morning at ten o'clock Ned and Nancy met the dean and the professor at the dean's office. Dean Jarvis was a different man in his weekend clothes, a knit sport shirt and Bermuda shorts. Professor Tavakolian wore his usual tweed jacket, but this time over a black polo shirt.

Nancy described how she and Ned had found the paper in Ned's book. Dean Jarvis frowned as he listened. “What do you have to say for yourself,
Ned?” the dean asked when she had finished.

Ned spread open his palms. “I'm mystified. I swear I don't know how the sheet got in there.”

Nancy cleared her throat. “We haven't established that the paper I found is the missing answer sheet,” she pointed out.

“Well, I happen to have made a new copy of the answer key,” Tavakolian replied, pointing to his well-worn black leather briefcase. He rooted around for a minute and pulled out the test, handing the top page to Nancy.

Nancy laid it on Dean Jarvis's desk next to the paper she had found in Ned's textbook. All four of them silently studied the two sheets of paper. Both sheets showed the same string of A's, B's, C's, and D's.

“There, it is the missing sheet,” Tavakolian exclaimed in triumph.

The dean was concerned. “I have to say I wasn't convinced that there had been a theft at all. But now it seems clear that
someone
really did steal the test answers.”

Ned swallowed tensely. “But it wasn't me!”

Nancy interrupted, trying to sound calm and objective. “It doesn't make sense, Dean. Why would Ned carry the sheet around with him after the test was over? It seems more likely that the thief—whoever it is—knew that Ned was under suspicion and planted the answer key on him in the bookstore, while he wasn't paying attention.”

Dean Jarvis sighed and turned to Ned. “I won't take action against you until we have more concrete evidence. But frankly, it doesn't look good. If you did steal and sell the answers, Ned, I'd have to suspend you—or even expel you.”

Nancy spoke up. “I've got six other suspects—Steve Groff, Carrie Yu, Gary Carlsen, Annie Mercer, Linda Corrente, and Tom Mallin.”

The dean frowned. “Tom Mallin?”

“Why? Do you know anything about him?” Nancy asked quickly.

The dean pursed his lips. “I, uh, know who he is. But I know nothing that would incriminate him. The other names aren't familiar to me. You go ahead with your investigation, Nancy, but I hope you come up with something soon.”

Ned and Nancy left the dean's office, worried and subdued. Ned reminded Nancy that he had to go help the Omega Chi brothers prepare for that afternoon's reception. Knowing that the Theta Pi house would be a madhouse, Nancy picked up a quick lunch at the snack bar before her last suspect interview.

At twelve-thirty Nancy knocked on Annie Mercer's door. A cute, bubbly girl with dimples and short ash blond hair opened the door. “Hi, Debbie,” Annie said.

“Sorry—my name is Nancy, not Debbie,” Nancy reminded her.

“Whoops!” Annie giggled. “Well, anyway, come in. Our room is a total mess, though—we
still haven't fixed it up. Me and Claire, my roommate. I think it's so cool being at college, don't you? Do you have a boyfriend?”

Nancy was surprised that Annie seemed like such an airhead. Her high school record had shown all A's and loads of awards and extracurricular activities. Still, Nancy reasoned, she could act like an airhead in order to be popular.

“Yes, I have a boyfriend,” Nancy answered, then changed the subject. “I just wanted to ask you about the literature test last Wednesday. Did you think it was too easy or too hard?”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Oh, it was easy. But I love English—it's my best subject. My boyfriend's an English major. What's your major?”

“Um, psychology,” Nancy fibbed. “Did you happen to see anyone cheating?”

“On the test?” Annie asked in surprise. “Gee, no. Who would do that?”

Remembering that Annie was a straight A student, Nancy decided to rule her out as a suspect. She made up a few more questions, then left the girl's room.

What next? Nancy wondered in frustration. It was clear that she wouldn't get any information from her suspects through direct questioning. But maybe I could find some clues in their dorm rooms, she thought. She went downstairs to a phone booth and looked up her suspects' addresses and copied them into her pocket notebook.

Annie was still in her room, so Nancy couldn't begin by searching there. But Steve Groff, the swimmer, lived in Jenkins Hall, which was nearby. Nancy knew Jenkins Hall well. Ned had lived there his freshman year. It was only a short walk.

Nancy tried to act casual as she climbed the stairs to the fourth floor of Jenkins Hall. Steve Groff's room was 408. Nancy found the door and gently tried the knob. It had been left unlocked. She knocked, then pushed the door open gingerly. No one was inside.

The small dorm room, with its white painted cinder-block walls, was a study in contrasts. One side was neat and clean, with a smooth bedspread on the bed and a few books lined up on the bare desk. The other side was a pigsty. The narrow bed was unmade, dirty clothes were thrown on the floor, and empty soda cans lined the windowsill. Nancy stepped closer to the desk on the messy side. Behind a stack of dog-eared books—mostly poetry and philosophy—were two swimming trophies with Steve Groff's name on them.

Nancy knew she had to hurry—the unlocked door probably meant that Steve or his roommate had only stepped down the hall for a minute. She pulled open a desk drawer and saw several spiral notebooks, well scribbled in. It'll take me ages to hunt through all this, Nancy thought.

Just then she heard a step at the door. “What are you doing?” a voice demanded angrily.

Nancy whirled around to see Steve Groff in the doorway. He recognized her at once. “You—the English department snoop!” he accused.

Nancy thought fast. “This is
your
room?” She pretended surprise. “I was looking for, uh, Brad. Sorry!” And she slipped past him, out the door.

Steve must have believed it was an honest mistake, because he didn't follow her. Hurrying down the stairs and out the dorm, Nancy scolded herself for having been so obvious. She had learned something, though. Steve wasn't just a dumb jock. All those books and notebooks showed that he was truly interested in literature. Maybe his high test score really was legitimate.

Sitting on a grassy slope across from the dorm, Nancy took out of her pocket the list of addresses she had jotted down. Dean Jarvis had reacted oddly to Tom Mallin's name, she remembered. Maybe Tom's room should be searched next.

Tom wasn't in a dorm. He lived off campus—1107 Uncas Street. Nancy walked over to the lot where she had parked her blue Mustang. She remembered that Uncas Street was about two blocks away but it was a long street, stretching far away from campus.

Once in her car, she followed Uncas Street, noting that the addresses at first were much higher than Tom's. She followed the street for about ten minutes, getting farther and farther from campus. The neighborhood gradually
changed to small, old, shabby houses, with peeling paint and hanging shutters.

Nancy drove slowly to catch the house numbers. She was close to Tom's house now—1113, 1111, 1109—1107.

Nancy parked across the street. Tom Mallin's house was better kept than most—a square brown-brick bungalow with yellow wood trim. Beside the front steps, someone had planted a few chrysanthemums.

A light was on upstairs and an older-model brown sedan was parked in front. After her last experience, Nancy decided to wait until she was sure the house was empty before making her search.

As she sat in the car, she wondered why Tom lived here. Few Emerson students lived off campus, and those who did usually were juniors or seniors. Was Tom a “townie”? If so, it didn't look like the family had enough money to send a son to a private college like Emerson. Then, too, Tom had said that he was on financial aid.

Just then the door opened, and Nancy sat up in astonishment. Out walked Sophie Maliszewski!

Holding her breath, Nancy watched Sophie climb into the old brown car, her mind racing.

Maybe Sophie was Tom's landlady, Nancy thought. Or vice versa—maybe Sophie rented a room in Tom's house. Or maybe she had just been visiting Tom for some reason. At any rate, a
connection between the two had been established. It had to mean something!

As Sophie started her car and drove away, Nancy did the same. Sophie turned at the corner onto a main thoroughfare. Nancy followed her, trying to be unobtrusive, but there weren't many cars around. After a couple of blocks, Nancy saw Sophie look anxiously into her rearview mirror, as though she'd spotted Nancy. Sophie, obviously nervous, began to drive faster.

Nancy saw that the light at the next intersection was red, but to her surprise, Sophie sped up. She's going to run the light, Nancy realized.

Nancy was determined not to lose Sophie, but she didn't want to put herself in danger.

The light turned green just as Sophie hurtled into the intersection, and Nancy sped up to follow in her wake. A large green truck on the cross street had illegally moved into the intersection and had to skid to attempt to stop. Abruptly swerving to miss Sophie's car, it came screeching straight at Nancy!

S
LAMMING ON HER BRAKES,
Nancy twisted the steering wheel just enough to swing her car out of the path of the truck. With a blast on his horn, the truck driver continued through the crossing, jolted over a curb, and then roared away.

Nancy pulled over to the curb and sat for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly. As soon as her pounding heart had slowed down, she looked up to see which way Sophie Maliszewski had gone.

The brown car had stopped on the far side of the intersection. Sophie jumped out and ran over to Nancy's car, her round face expressing her concern.