Very Deadly Yours (11 page)

“Look how close we are to the expressway now,” she said encouragingly. “We'll be there in no time.”

“I—I really can't go any farther,” Bill said. “I'm not kidding, Nancy. You'd better just get back to your car and leave me here. I'll understand.”

Nancy smiled wryly. “I think we're stuck with each other for the moment, Bill. Let's make the most of it.”

“No. This is as far as I go.”

“But we're almost there! You
can't
give up now,” Nancy pleaded.

For answer Bill took his hand off her shoulder, spun around dizzily—and collapsed facedown on the ground. “No more nagging,” Nancy heard him mutter into the grass.

Nancy forced herself to speak as cheerfully as possible. “Well, I'm sorry you feel that way,” she said. “I guess I'm just going to have to drag you across the field.” She waited for a second to see if that would galvanize him back up again, but he didn't move. “Okay. It's your decision.” And she reached for his hands.

“Ooof!” she said, only half kidding. “What have they been feeding you?”

Bill didn't even bother to answer.

It was the longest walk Nancy had ever taken. Just trying to keep Bill's head from dragging along in the grass was as hard as pulling him. Her purse and first-aid kit kept slipping off her shoulder. To make matters even worse, the sticky mud underfoot finally wrenched the heel off one of her pumps. And—just to cheer things up—it began to pour again, this time with thunder and lightning mixed in.

Oh, my little heated car, Nancy thought longingly as she hobbled along. A warm bed and a dry bathrobe.
Food
—she hadn't had a thing since lunch. Why did I ever think I wanted an interesting job?

And she hadn't seen a single car pass since they'd gotten out of the woods. Maybe—on top of the road's being legally closed—there was a
storm warning out. I can't drive in this rain, Nancy realized. I'll have to wait until it lets up.

There they were at last at the dark, shining express ramp. At least it would be easier to drag Bill over asphalt than grass. There was his wrecked car being tirelessly washed by rain. “The police can send a tow truck for it,” she called down to him.

Now they were leaving the ramp, and there—at last—was her car. “We made it!” she shouted at Bill. “We're safe!”

Somehow she managed to run the last few feet to the car. Bill didn't seem heavy at all now. Nancy unlocked the car door and hoisted him into the passenger seat. Then she raced around to the other side and let herself in.

“Now. Ignition. And lights. And heat,” she chattered, turning the heat on full blast.
“And
flashers. I'm sorry I don't have anything hot to drink, but there's plenty of water out there if you get thirsty.”

“Why are you being so nice?” mumbled Bill, wincing as he shifted position in the seat.

“Just my job,” said Nancy. “Now, keep an eye out for any headlights—on either side of the highway. We'll try to flag down help if anyone goes by. I'm going to stay in here and keep you company until I actually see a car coming. No sense in standing out there for hours. I'll just have my flashlight ready in case.”

Bill didn't answer. He looked as if he'd dropped off to sleep already. After a couple of minutes Nancy switched the radio on low to keep herself company.

“Rain and gale winds to continue on through the night,” said the announcer. “There's a travelers' advisory in effect until further notice. So stay inside and keep warm with someone you love.”

I wish, thought Nancy as she turned the heat up a notch. Ned, I just hope you're more comfortable than I am.

Bill muttered something inaudible, and Nancy glanced over at him. He was looking worse and worse—flushed and shaking as if he had a fever. He opened his eyes and stared glassily back at her.

“Will I die?” he asked clearly.

“Bill, your leg is hurt, but there's nothing else the matter with you as far as I can tell,” said Nancy. “You're going to be fine.” And as soon as you're all better, you're going to jail, she thought to herself.

Bill shook his head fitfully. “So you think I'm the kind of guy who advertises for dates in the Personals?” he asked.

Nancy sat up, suddenly alert. Was he finally going to tell her what was going on? “Well, that's what your ad sounded like,” she said.

“Hah! That's all you know,” Bill said with a laugh. “There's something big going on, Miss
Private Detective. Big money. Bigger than you'll ever see. That's why I got a little mixed up when your friend answered my ad. You see, I thought
she
had the money,” he added, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

“What money was that again?” Nancy asked casually.

“John's money—John's and mine. John Engas. He was my partner. Do you think my leg is broken?”

“I don't know, but if it is, I'm sure you'll heal fast,” Nancy said, soothing him. “So you and John worked together? What—uh, what kind of work?”

“Making money.” Bill winked at her. “The old-fashioned way.” He giggled deliriously. “Oh, I guess I might as well tell you about it. It's all in the past now. You see, we had the perfect scheme
and
the perfect bank picked out—and then John had to get
her
involved.”

“You must have been furious,” Nancy said. Injured as he was, he still could be dangerous, she thought, so it was important to humor him.

“ ‘Furious' isn't the word for it. You see, two years ago—it's hard to believe it's that long ago already—my buddy John and I dreamed up the perfect scheme for robbing First Lincoln in Chicago.” Suddenly he glared at her. “But don't think I'm going to tell you what it was. Oh, no! I don't want you stealing my ideas.”

Nancy shook her head. She couldn't think of any way to answer that.

“So then John said he wanted his girlfriend to be our getaway driver. He said Jenny was a great driver and not the nervous type.” Bill coughed. He was shivering again.

“Not the nervous type,” Nancy prompted him.

“Well, that's what he said. I only saw Jenny twice. Once when we rehearsed the drive and then again on the day of the robbery. She was gorgeous, as far as I could tell—but she was wearing sunglasses, so it was kind of hard to see what she really looked like. She was dressed all in white both times—John said that was what she always wore.”

Nancy could see the headlights of an approaching car—the first she'd seen since they'd been there. She was about to jump out and try to flag it down when she stopped herself. There would have to be another car at some point, and she wanted to hear the rest of Bill's story while he was still in a talkative mood. She watched silently as the car passed them and sped on into the night. Bill didn't even notice it.

“So. The robbery went fine—better than fine, actually. We had it set up so that John and Jenny would leave in one car and I'd leave in another. That way it would be harder for people to chase us. We were going to meet outside the city and
split up the money. That little weasel!” he suddenly shouted. “I can't believe she tricked us like that.”

“What did she do?”

“Only got John killed, that's all. I waited for three hours at the spot we'd arranged. Then I heard on the car radio that—that there'd been an accident. John's car had been totaled, and he was dead.”

“And Jenny?”

“John was the only person they found in the car.”

“So Jenny must have escaped?” Nancy said.

“Escaped and taken the money with her.” Bill sighed heavily. “I never found out who identified the body. I couldn't do it myself, of course.”

“So there you were, without the money and without any idea of where Jenny was,” said Nancy, trying to sound as sympathetic as she could.

“That's right—until last year. Then a—well, let's say a friend of mine told me Jenny was hiding out here. I figured she'd be using a different name and keeping out of the way, but I knew one thing about her: she and John had met through the Personals. Now, you can change your name, but reading the Personals is the kind of thing you never change. Besides, I couldn't think of any other way to reach her.”

“So
that's
why you ran the ad,” said Nancy.

“Yeah. The funny thing is, that's how I got my
job, too. The first copy of the
Record
I bought had a Help Wanted ad for a guy in the
Record's
own mailroom. It's not much of a job, but it'll keep me going until I get that money back.”

“But what makes you think you're going to get the money back?” Nancy asked.

“I talked to Jenny this morning.”

“What? But last night—”

“No, she didn't make it to her meeting with you last night. But she called the paper again today, and I just happened to be passing by the desk when the phone rang. Lena's out sick, they said. I figured Jenny might try again, so I kept checking the phone.”

He chuckled contentedly. “She's scared out of her mind by those ads I've been running. She says she'd rather turn herself in than have me looking for her. We were going to meet tomorrow. . . .”

Bill had been talking with more and more animation in the past few minutes, but now his eyes suddenly clouded. He collapsed back down into the seat. “Only
now
how can I get anywhere to meet her?” he said disgustedly. “Even if we do get rescued soon, I'm hurt too badly to go anywhere but a hospital. And then I'm as good as in jail. I have the worst luck in the world.”

“I can think of one way out,” Nancy said slowly. “But you may not like it.”

“Well, what is it?” Bill asked.

“You can let me meet Jenny for you.”

Bill stared at her. “But she could be a murderer!” he said. “She'll kill you for sure if she finds out you know what's going on!”

“That's a risk I'll have to take,” Nancy answered. “I've got to finish up this case. And if I have to face a murderer to do it, that's just the way it'll have to be.”

S
O YOU'RE REALLY
meeting this woman tonight?” said Bess. Nancy had stopped by Bess's house to tell her and George what had happened the night before. “I hope you know what you're doing, Nancy.”

“I do,” Nancy said. “There's no way Bill's going to be able to do it, and someone has to connect with Jenny—if only to make sure she's caught. Bill says he realizes he may have to go to jail, but he won't even mind as long as Jenny gets whatever treatment he does.”

George snorted. “He won't mind going to jail? After everything he's done to get that money back? Do you really believe him?”

“I wouldn't,” admitted Nancy, “but I think his accident really knocked the stuffing out of him. He's an incredible hypochondriac, for one thing. He really thinks that fall down the cliff was a brush with death. And he says the fact that I was the one who rescued him just proves that he was never meant to get away with this.”

That wasn't all Bill had said the night before. Once Nancy had convinced him that she'd be “able to handle a meeting with Jenny, he'd really gone to pieces.

“You're being so good to me after everything I've done to you,” he'd said. “I'll never be able to thank you, Nancy. I swear, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you—”

“Hold it, Bill,” Nancy had said, half amused. “I have to warn you, I'm still not exactly on your side. As soon as the police get here”—the motorist they'd flagged down had promised to drive to the police station two exits away—“you're going to be in custody, you know.”

But Bill had seemed resigned to that. “It feels good to have this all off my chest.” He'd sighed. “I guess I'm just glad to be out of the whole mess.”

The police had taken Bill and Nancy to the hospital, and Bill had been taken away for X rays. By then he was delirious again, and the nurse Nancy spoke to was sure the hospital wouldn't need to use any extra security to keep
him in his room.
“He's
not going anywhere,” she'd said, “not with that leg and that fever.”

Now it was almost noon the next day, and Nancy was stretched out on Bess's couch. The rain had finally stopped, and sun was dancing in through the curtains. It was hard to believe she'd ever been drenched and cold.

But Bess hadn't stopped fussing since Nancy had walked through the door. “I just don't think you should meet Jenny alone, Nan.” She was fretting now. “She could be a killer, for all you know—look what happened to her boyfriend!”

“Look, Bess, it's going to go just fine,” Nancy said again. “We're meeting in a public place, you know.”