Update On Crime (6 page)

Nancy glanced up at the ceiling. “The smoke alarm in here has been ripped out,” she said. Turning to Hal, she asked, “What did you lose from your desk?”

Hal gingerly sifted through the blackened, smoking material on his desk, then opened all the drawers. He shook his head. “All my notes on the bribery case—I can re-create those, but the tape I was working on was stolen out of my locked drawer. They must have jimmied it.”

In a whisper only Nancy could hear, he added, “Fortunately, I have the master tape locked up at my house. I had a sneaking suspicion that something like this might happen.”

“Whoever set this fire wanted to send you a message,” Nancy said grimly. “Otherwise, they would have just stolen the stuff.”

Just then the security guard burst into the
room and took a look at the damage. He reacted by making a low whistle.

“Did you see anything?” Hal asked the guard.

The guard shook his head. “No, but I was keeping an eye on the set, not back here,” he reported.

“I
saw something.” A tall, blond man who had been standing in the doorway stepped forward. He was wearing a technician's uniform. “I'm Clay Jurgenson,” he said. “I saw someone running away from Hal's office. The person was wearing a Channel Nine jacket.”

“Was it a man or a woman?” Nancy asked.

Clay Jurgenson shook his head. “Sorry. I couldn't tell. I just saw the logo on the back of the jacket as the person disappeared around the corner. I didn't think anything of it until I heard the smoke alarm ringing.”

The sound of a sarcastic chuckle made Nancy glance toward the doorway. Gary Krieger was leaning insolently against the doorjamb. He, too, was wearing a Channel 9 jacket.

“Someone wearing a station jacket—that must narrow down the list of suspects to about twenty or thirty people,” Gary said mockingly. He eyed Hal's charred desk. “I guess we have ourselves another puffer,” he sneered. “Lots of smoke, not much damage.” He took off down the hallway without another word.

Nancy couldn't believe that Gary could be so callous toward Hal. She recalled Gary's behavior during the apartment fire earlier that afternoon. Was it possible that he was behind
this
blaze?

“I hate to admit it, but Krieger's right—we
all
own station jackets,” Hal said.

He looked up as Otto Liski appeared in his office. “Okay, that's enough gawking. Back to work, everyone.” Once the area had cleared out, he shut Hal's door and stared glumly at the ruined desk.

“This is getting worse,” he said. “Before now we've only been getting threats against Hal. Now there's been an actual attack.”

“I think it's time to let the police in on what's been going on,” Nancy advised him. “I've worked with Chief McGinnis on other cases. He and his men can work very discreetly when necessary, so maybe word of the attack won't leak to the press.”

Otto Liski looked from Nancy to Hal, then shook his head. “I don't want to risk having the public get wind of this,” he said. “What can we do, short of calling the police?”

Nancy thought for a moment. “So far we know that the arsonist is someone on the inside—there's too much security for an outsider to be pulling this off, plus Clay saw someone wearing the station jacket.”

She was thinking out loud, piecing her thoughts together as she went. “And since Hal's notes on the Steve Gilbert story were destroyed, it seems likely that the person is trying to prevent Hal from running his story. I need to check out whether there's any connection between Gilbert and anyone at the station.” Looking at Mr. Liski,
she said, “I'll need to review your personnel records as soon as possible.”

The producer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Those files are supposed to be confidential,” he said slowly. “But under the circumstances I'll make an exception.”

Soon Nancy was sitting in an empty cubicle, poring over the résumés and other personal documents of the Channel 9 staff. She paid close attention to the files belonging to Marilyn Morgan and Gary Krieger.

Marilyn's file revealed little. She had worked at stations all over the Midwest before coming to WRVH and had risen rapidly from weather reporter to anchorwoman. Gary Krieger's résumé contained an interesting footnote. Under the Hobbies and Interests section, he had described himself as a volunteer fire fighter. It wasn't enough to link him to the blaze in Hal's office, but it told Nancy that he was someone who knew his way around fire.

It took Nancy over two hours to go through all the files, so she had missed the six o'clock news. When she returned the files to Mr. Liski's office, he told her that there had been no incidents during the broadcast. “Did you find anything?” he asked.

“Nothing conclusive,” she told him. “I'd like to question Bill Steghorn, though. Valerie said that he was working outside the tape feed booth last night. Maybe he saw something. In any case, he's also a possible suspect.”

“You'll probably find him somewhere back in
the equipment area,” Liski said. He pointed to an open utility door. “It's down that hallway. Keep turning right until you reach a big computer room.”

Nancy wandered down the cool, dim passageways of the station's equipment area to look for the engineer. In the semidarkness, she was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the feeling that someone was watching her.

“Lost your way?”

Nancy jumped as Bill Steghorn emerged from the shadows. In the gloom, his bearded face with his heavy eyebrows looked vaguely threatening. Then he smiled, and the menacing look was gone.

“No, I came back here to find you,” Nancy replied. “Hal Taylor asked me to pick up some equipment for him.”

At the mention of Hal's name, Bill Steghorn's expression darkened slightly. “Hal Taylor,” he said with distaste. “If you're here for long, you'll find out that he isn't exactly a favorite with the production people.”

Nancy pretended to be sympathetic. “I gather he's not a favorite with a
lot
of people around here,” she said.

Bill shrugged, then reached down to grab his tool kit and an equipment bag from the floor. Now that Nancy's eyes had adjusted to the dimness, she saw some fresh duct tape around a cable he had apparently been working on.

“You can never fool the production people about who the good and bad on-air people are,”
Bill told Nancy. “We know because we're the ones who make them look good.” They walked together down the hallway until they stood in front of a row of lockers.

“Hal's a lightweight,” the engineer went on dismissively. “Now, Marilyn Morgan, on the other hand—she's a good reporter and a great lady.” He set down his bags and opened his locker.

Remembering that Bill Steghorn was a possible suspect, Nancy quickly scanned his locker for anything that might link him to the recent attacks against Hal. She didn't see a typewriter or any kerosene, but she noticed that the inside of his locker door was covered with publicity photos of Marilyn.

Bill felt her curious gaze. His heavy eyebrows drew together in a frown as he placed some tools on his locker shelf. Then he slammed the door shut. “What was it that you needed to pick up for Hal?” he asked Nancy.

“Just another clip mike,” Nancy improvised. “His other one was destroyed in the fire in his office, and he used someone else's for the six o'clock news.”

“Yeah, someone seems to really have it in for him,” Bill said, handing her a microphone from his equipment bag.

“No one seems to have seen anything suspicious, though,” Nancy commented, hoping to draw the engineer into revealing whether he'd seen anything the previous evening.

“Yeah, I was working outside the tape booth last night, and I didn't see a soul except for Marilyn and that production assistant, Valerie,” he commented. “Beats me how they got that screwball tape into the broadcast.”

Nancy thanked the engineer for the microphone, then returned to the newsroom. It was nearly seven-thirty, and she suddenly realized that she was famished again. She didn't know how much more she could find out about the sabotage, so she decided to call it a day and head home for some dinner.

On her way out, Nancy passed by Hal's office. The anchorman wasn't there, but a couple of fire fighters were sifting through the ashes, looking for evidence of arson.

As she passed through the lobby, Nancy felt an arm link smoothly through hers. She found herself staring into the sparkling green eyes of Hal Taylor.

“I always take my new assistants out for a bite to eat on their first day.” He grinned. “Since you're such a special intern, why don't we make it a special meal? Let's say, someplace like Le St. Tropez?” Le St. Tropez was one of River Heights's more romantic and elegant restaurants. Its dining room had a stone fireplace and an intimate atmosphere.

The color rose in Nancy's cheeks as she felt the warmth of Hal's touch. “Isn't that a pretty cozy spot for a business meeting?” she teased.

“It's not business I have in mind at the moment,”
Hal teased right back. “Besides, they have the world's best beef Wellington. Trust me.”

Nancy felt herself being propelled forward by the force of Hal's charm. Before she knew it, the two of them were in Nancy's Mustang on their way to the restaurant. Hal whistled appreciatively as she maneuvered through traffic.

“A bright, beautiful girl who drives her sports car like a pro,” he said, smiling. “Is there anything you
don't
do well?”

“Give me a minute and I'll think of something,” Nancy returned. It's no wonder that Hal Taylor is so popular, she thought—he's irresistible!

The maître d' greeted Hal warmly—the news anchor was obviously a regular. He showed them to a private booth at the back of the restaurant. After they were seated, Nancy tried to discuss the case, but Hal wanted no part of it.

“I'd much rather talk about you,” he said. “How did you become a private investigator?”

He listened while she described some of the more famous cases she'd worked on. Then he said, “I meant it earlier today when I said you'd make a great reporter. Have you ever thought of a career on the air?”

“Being a reporter seems pretty glamorous, but I guess I'm really a detective at heart,” she told Hal.

“Speaking of hearts,” Hal said softly. “Is there a handsome boyfriend lurking in the wings?”

“Yes,” Nancy answered truthfully. She felt a guilty stab of conscience as she thought about Ned. After all, he would be coming home to see her the next night. What would he think if he could see her having a romantic dinner with Hal Taylor?

Hal leaned back and smiled ruefully. “I suppose it was too much to hope that you'd be fabulous
and
unattached,” he said. “I'm not really free, either, I guess. I'm still seeing the waitress I told you about. And I still haven't been able to sort out my feelings about Marilyn. Sometimes I think we news types aren't meant to be in a stable relationship,” he finished.

“Why do you say that?” Nancy asked.

“It's tough being involved with a reporter,” Hal explained. “I guess we journalists are really married to our careers more than to anything else. That was one thing Marilyn understood. I kind of miss that about her,” he added wistfully.

After dinner Nancy dropped Hal off at the station. She shook her head as she watched him disappear into the building. He didn't seem to know what he was looking for in a relationship. And that meant that Hal had the potential to be dangerous to a woman's heart!

When Nancy arrived home, she spotted a note on the refrigerator. “Gone to see my sister. Back soon. Love, Hannah.”

Nancy dropped her purse on the kitchen table and made herself a cup of cocoa. She was just
settling down to drink it when the phone rang. It was Bess. Her friend's tone sounded urgent.

“Hurry over to the Schooner Deck as soon as you can,” Bess said in an excited voice. “I've found out something important about your case!”

W
HAT IS IT
, Bess?” Nancy asked, feeling a burst of adrenaline race through her.

“I can't talk right now—the manager is breathing down my neck,” Bess replied nervously. “Just hurry over. He'll be off duty in a few minutes, and then we can talk.”

Nancy didn't waste a second. Twenty minutes later, she pulled up to the River Heights café where Bess worked. By now it was after ten, and the restaurant was practically deserted.

“Nancy!” Bess cried as soon as Nancy came through the door. She grabbed Nancy's hand and led her to a corner table where a dark-haired girl was sitting. The girl was also wearing a waitress's uniform.

“This is Rita Greenburg,” Bess said, introducing Nancy. “Rita works here in the afternoons. She's the girl I mentioned to you—the one who knows Hal Taylor.”