Very Deadly Yours (13 page)

“And nobody saw you?” Nancy asked incredulously.

“I don't think anyone was looking at me,” Jenny said simply. “You can't imagine what that intersection had turned into. It wasn't only our car that had been rear-ended—a car had driven into the back of the truck, too. No one was paying attention to
me.”

It was getting dark, and the restaurant was starting to fill up now. The waiter darted an anxious look at their table, probably wondering when they'd leave. But Jenny was oblivious to everything except her story.

“Well, so now I had all that money,” she went on, “and no John. I just went home and put the briefcase under my bed. Then I went to work. I'd called in earlier and said I'd be late.”

“And what did you do with the money?”

“Nothing, for a year. I just left it under my
bed. I didn't even want to touch it. Then it got so I couldn't stand to be in that apartment anymore. I had to start all over. I used a little of the money to move to River Heights. The rest of it's still under my bed.

“To tell you the truth, I was almost relieved when I realized Bill was after me,” Jenny said. “It was worse wondering when he'd find me. Never knowing what was going to happen. At least I can settle things with him now. That's why I decided to call the paper. I was so flustered that I didn't realize there was no coffee shop at Fortieth and East anymore. I thought, at least I'd be able to stop running. It's not as bad as—”

There was a gentle tapping at the window. Both girls looked up, startled.

Bill Stark waved cheerily at them, his face ghostlike against the dark night.

“Oh, my God!” Jenny gasped. “He'll kill us!” She was already on her feet and moving toward the back door. Nancy was right next to her.

“My car's out back,” Jenny panted. “If we go out the back door, we may be able to—”

Just then she stumbled against one of the tables. She dropped her shoulder bag, and its contents spilled all over the floor. Jenny fell to her knees and began frantically scooping everything up.

“Just leave it all there and take your bag,” Nancy said sharply, jerking Jenny to her feet. “Here's the back door.”

The parking lot was dark and deserted, and Bill Stark was walking toward them.

“Hi, gals,” he said.

This time he
did
have a gun. He pulled it out of his pocket and aimed it right at Nancy's face.

O
KAY
, J
ENNY
,” B
ILL
said. “Tie her up.”

Before Nancy could move, Jenny had grabbed her, stuffed Nancy's mouth with a rag that Bill had thrown her, and tied another rag over it. At the same time Bill was opening the trunk of a battered red Honda.

What was going on? Jenny seemed to have become another person! She was pinning Nancy's arms behind her back so tightly that she couldn't even think about wriggling away. Not that she was going to try—not with that .38 pointed at her. The gun didn't waver as Jenny dragged Nancy over to the trunk and pushed her inside.

As Bill was closing the trunk, he leaned over Nancy. “I thought you'd like to know that there's been a little change in plans,” he said politely. “Jenny and I have decided to work together for the time being. You see, she actually
did
show up at Fortieth and East right about the time I'd, uh, put you out of commission, and we thought we might as well pool our resources.”

So this whole meeting with Jenny had been a setup. Nancy felt sick.

“Sorry I put you to so much trouble yesterday,” Bill continued. “I guess I just overreacted to the pain. You know me—Mr. Walking Wounded. Don't make any noise in there, or I'll come around and shoot you.” He smiled and slammed the door, and Nancy heard him turn the key in the lock.

The Honda started up with a roar. Whoever was driving was flooring it. Nancy rolled helplessly back and forth as the car whipped around turns and sped out of the parking lot.

Nancy forced herself not to panic. She'd been in this situation before, and there was definitely no sense in struggling. If the trunk was airtight, she'd only use up oxygen. And she didn't know this part of River Heights well, so trying to figure out where the car was going wouldn't help her. The only thing she could do was try to relax.

She was furious at herself. Furious for trusting Bill and furious for having believed Jenny's story. They'd fed her a piece of the truth, and
she'd believed it was the whole thing. How could she have been so gullible?

But wouldn't anyone have trusted them? she asked herself. Bill hadn't been faking the agony he'd been in the day before—even though he had managed to conceal part of the truth from her. And Nancy was sure Jenny's story was pretty close to the truth—at least her description of the events leading up to John's death. But keeping the money unspent under her bed seemed a little unlikely to Nancy now.

She winced as the car bounced over what felt like an enormous pothole. Had she been in there for a few seconds or for hours? It was hard to tell. Her whole body ached from being jolted back and forth, and it was frighteningly hot and stuffy in the trunk. Worst of all was the cottony feel of the gag in her mouth.

Nancy wondered if she dared take it off. After all, they hadn't tied her hands. But Bill had a gun, and she'd better not make him mad.

At least she could retie the gag so it was more comfortable. Nancy yanked it off—luckily Bill hadn't knotted it very well—and tied it so that it wasn't cutting into her face. She'd just finished knotting it when the car stopped.

Nancy heard the car door slamming. Footsteps coming toward her. The trunk being unlocked.

And then Bill was standing there, pointing the gun in her face. Nancy stared at him, making no attempt to move.

“Good girl,” said Bill approvingly. “Glad to see you behaved yourself in there. Now, I'm going to take this gag off you, but I don't want you making a sound. Not one sound. Understand?”

Nancy nodded, and Bill pulled off the gag. Then he grabbed Nancy's hand and dragged her out of the car.

They were in a dark little alley next to the
Record
building. “Jenny, you want to come in or wait?” Bill asked.

“Might as well come in,” said Jenny casually as she got out of the car. “I've never seen a newspaper office before.”

“Okay. Let's go.” Bill nudged Nancy's shoulder with the gun. “We're going in a side door,” he told her. “I want you to act completely normal. If anyone sees us and asks what we're doing here, tell them this is part of your investigation. Otherwise, I don't want a word out of you.”

The entrance he took her through was a set of heavy black double doors at the back of the building. The three of them stepped into a dimly lit hall. Ahead of them was a service elevator.

“It wasn't a great job, working here, but I guess it came in handy,” Bill said with a chuckle. “All the mailroom deliveries come in this way. I've got keys to everything,” he added, answering Nancy's unspoken question.

He unlocked the service elevator, and it slid open with a rusty wheeze. “After you, ladies,”
Bill said as he shoved Nancy in. The barred elevator door clicked shut, and the elevator creaked slowly to the fifth floor—the newsroom.

“All ready and waiting, I see,” said Bill approvingly. In the dark the room was filled with the day's leftovers—the computers waiting silently for someone to use them, a “Do This First!” memo slapped on top of a pile of papers on someone's desk, a bicycle wheel whose owner must have decided to walk home. Far below them Nancy could hear the roar of the presses. They'd be making too much noise for anyone working down there to hear her.

With a flourish Bill pulled out the chair at the nearest terminal. “Have a seat,” he said chattily to Nancy. “You, too, Jenny. Let's talk.”

Her face expressionless, Jenny plunked herself down at the next terminal and fixed her gaze on Nancy.

“Well, I got to thinking after you left the hospital last night,” Bill said. “You know, I'm a pretty nice guy, but I do have one fault—I talk too much when I'm upset.

“So I said to myself,” he continued, “ ‘Why let a little pain stop me from getting what I want?' Especially when my leg wasn't broken after all. With all this money at stake, it'd be crazy to let a bad attitude get in my way.” He sounded as if he were giving some kind of screwball pep talk.

“So I called Jenny last night and told her about you. We decided that since you knew about both
of us, she and I would be in this together now. So that's why we're leaving town together.”

“With the bank money,” said Nancy. “How much is left, Jenny?”

Jenny grinned wryly. “Enough,” she said. “It should cover expenses for a while, anyway.” A shadow crossed her face. “Of course it won't go as far divided in half, but what can I say? Bill's a very persuasive guy.”

“I guess I am,” said Bill. His smile was sinister. Nancy wondered just what he'd said to convince Jenny she should join forces with him. “Well, we've got one problem before we can take off—and Nancy, you can probably figure out what that is.”

“Me, I'll bet,” answered Nancy.

“Uh-huh. You're the only person who knows about us. I guess that means you'll just have to get out of here somehow.”

“ ‘Get out of here'? What a delicate way of putting it, Bill,” Nancy answered coolly. Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she wasn't going to show it. Jenny had found a compact in somebody's desk and was looking at herself approvingly before turning her attention back to Nancy.

“Besides, I'm
not
the only person who knows what you're up to,” Nancy continued. “My two best friends do, too. Of course Bess already feels pretty close to you, but George can't
wait
to meet you. I told them to call the police if they hadn't
heard from me by nine this evening.” She'd just noticed that the clock in back of Bill said 8:48. “I also filled Mr. Whittaker in this afternoon. In fact”—she was desperately trying to think of something that would sound plausible—“he's probably got this room under some kind of surveillance right now.”

“Good try, Nancy. Not quite believable, but if it's true, that's all the more reason for finishing things up quickly. Your friends can be the first to read your ad in tomorrow's Personals column.”

“My ad?”

“Yeah.” Bill reached over and switched on her computer. “Don't worry. I'll dictate it. All you'll have to do is type it.

“Don't make any mistakes, now,” he commanded. “We don't want any typos in your last words.”

T
IME FROZE IN
the empty room. Nancy felt as if she couldn't breathe. The humming of the computer seemed unbearably loud, and somewhere outside a train whistled in the night.

Bill looked up at the ceiling as if searching for inspiration. “Let's see,” he said, “how should we start this? I, Nancy Drew, have decided to end it all'? It's not quite in the general style of the Personals, but—”

“Wait. There's still one thing I never found out,” said Nancy rapidly. If she could keep talking, maybe she'd survive a little longer. “Why
was
John's body found in the driver's seat, Jenny? I thought you'd been driving the car.”

Jenny's laugh was horrifyingly happy. “Of course I was driving the car! But it wasn't hard switching places with him. I mean, he was a little heavy. A dead weight, you might say”—she laughed merrily again—“but, Nancy, I really think people can accomplish anything they set their minds to, don't you?”

Nancy couldn't hold back a shudder. Jenny's composure was inhuman—and she was obviously even more cold-blooded than Bill.