Don’t Look Twice (4 page)

“What's that, Mario?” Nancy couldn't hear him over the combined noise of Puccini's and the kitchen of the French restaurant. She had covered her left ear with her hand and had the receiver clamped to her right ear.

“Your friends, they just left.”

“They left?” Nancy couldn't believe her ears. “Did they say where they were going?”

“Okay, fine, I gotta be going, too. Ciao.” Mario hung up. Nancy listened to the dead line for a
moment before she placed the receiver back on the hook.

Where could her friends have gone? More to the point, how could they have left Puccini's without her? Didn't they wonder where she was?

She turned around to find the hostess hovering behind her. This time the woman looked less shocked and more concerned.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “You look a little shaken up.”

“I'm okay,” Nancy said, managing a small smile. “I've just misplaced my boyfriend.”

“Oh, it was that kind of accident,” said the hostess, smiling. “Well, if you need to make any more phone calls, you can use the restaurant phone. It's up by the maître d's station. Oh, and the rest rooms are right around that corner, if you want to dust yourself off.”

Nancy thanked her and hurried into the ladies' room. She didn't look nearly so bad as she had imagined. Mostly she was sandy. She brushed the sand off as well as she could and gave her hair a good shake. Then she splashed her face with cold water and washed her hands.

She did need to make more phone calls. The first person she thought to call was Pat Burnett, Ned's basketball coach. Maybe he'd know where to find his players.

The coach was staying at the Chicago University dorm, and the switchboard was already closed.

Where could her friends have gone? To the
police? If they were that concerned, wouldn't they have said something to Mario? On the other hand, if Mario
was
one of the kidnap gang, he probably wouldn't have told Nancy anyone was worried about her.

Nancy's head was swimming. This was getting her nowhere. She was tired and hungry, and she needed to get home. She dialed the Sampsons' number.

Nella Sampson answered the phone on the second ring. “Nancy!” her husky voice said into the receiver. “We were wondering when you'd turn up. Your friends are already here.”

“They're there?” Nancy cried.

“Sure. There was some talk of your disappearing from the restaurant—one of the girls said it was a practical joke. At any rate they figured this was the best place to wait for you to show up. Ned drove your car here.”

“A practical joke?” Nancy repeated, feeling stupid. Was someone playing tricks on her?

“Wait—” Nella's voice suddenly got fainter. “George is grabbing the phone. You're coming right over, aren't you, Nancy?”

“Yes,” Nancy said, but she doubted Nella had heard. George was already talking.

“Nan! Where are you?” George demanded. “You didn't tell me you had a disappearing act planned for the evening.”

“George, something crazy happened, but I'd
rather tell you in person.” Nancy's tone changed slightly. “Is Ned there?”

“Of course. We're all here.” George paused. “Nan,” she said in a much quieter voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I'll see you in ten minutes.” Nancy dug into her back pocket and found a couple of bills. So far so good. “I'm taking a taxi over.”

Nancy hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of relief. She had found her friends, and they knew she was all right. Now all she had to do was stop a kidnapping from happening.

Nancy thanked the hostess sincerely. Smiling, she handed Nancy one of the restaurant's business cards. “Come back and have dinner at Le Coq d'Or when you find your boyfriend,” she offered.

On the street there were plenty of cabs, and Nancy hailed one easily. She got in and gave the Sampsons' address to the driver. It was still Friday night in the big city, and Nancy watched as couples and groups hurried to warm restaurants and cozy apartments.

She shivered. She had left the blankets on the beach, and all she had on was a thin mohair sweater over her cotton blouse. She had left her coat and purse at the restaurant.

As she thought about that, Nancy felt a twinge of anger. George and Ned should have known something was wrong. Why would she have left
her coat and purse behind if she had planned on disappearing? Especially the coat. It was freezing, for goodness' sake!

The cab came to a stop outside a fancy three-story town house. Nancy handed over the last few dollars that were in her pockets.

The door to the townhouse opened, and Nella Sampson ushered her in out of the cold.

“Nancy, you look frozen,” she said, hugging her. “I think you could use some hot chocolate. Come on in—your friends are all in the living room.”

When Nancy walked into the living room, everybody immediately began yelling at once. “Where were you?” “What's the big idea?” “Who'd you plan this with?”

Nancy just sank down on the nearest comfortable chair and smiled weakly. “I can't tell you anything until I've had some hot chocolate,” she protested.

“Nancy” —George hugged her friend— “I was beginning to get worried.”

“Step aside, Fayne,” Ned interrupted. “I need a hug, too.”

Nancy smiled and put her arms around his neck. She needed to hear that. Ned sat on the arm of the easy chair, put one of her cold hands between his two warm ones, and rubbed gently.

“Whenever you're ready, we're dying to know where you've been all this time,” he said.

“I don't think she wants to tell,” said Denise. “I think she's enjoying the suspense too much.”

Nancy supposed Denise was trying to make a joke, but it fell heavily in the room. Looking up, she caught the cheerleader's annoyed expression. Denise's big green eyes showed disappointment.

Hmmm, Nancy thought, suddenly alert. There's one person in this room who isn't so glad to see me. I wonder why, exactly.

Was it possible that Denise Mason had been behind Nancy's “kidnapping”?

I
N THE NEXT INSTANT
Nancy discarded that theory. The kidnapping, joke or not, had to have been planned in advance. It was too well orchestrated to have been put together at a moment's notice. There was no way Denise could have known Nancy was coming to Chicago until that very evening. After they'd met, the only time Denise had been alone was the ten minutes or so while she was showering and changing after the game. Surely she'd have needed more time to plan.

Besides, Nancy was forgetting about how the one kidnapper had said she was “the wrong girl.” If Denise had somehow managed to plan it, Nancy would have been the target. There would have been no mistake.

Nella Sampson bustled in at that moment with a tray filled with mugs. She set it down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, then took a seat herself. “Okay, where have you been?” she demanded. “I was beginning to think I would have to call your father and tell him we'd lost his only daughter on her first night in Chicago.”

Nancy smiled. “That's not quite as ridiculous an idea as it sounds,” she admitted. “As a matter of fact, it seems I was kidnapped.”

Leaning back in her chair, Nancy slowly told them the details of her kidnapping. She felt much better with her left hand clasped in Ned's and her right hand wrapped around a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Nella had made her a thick turkey sandwich, which sat untouched on the coffee table.

Everyone sat listening to her story in astonished silence. There was a fire in the fireplace, and an occasional pop or snap was the only other sound in the room besides Nancy's voice. Ned put his arms around her and held her tightly when she told the part about waking up alone on the beach. Denise sat wide-eyed, barely moving.

“Then I called Mario from the French restaurant, and he said that he thought it was some big joke,” Nancy concluded. “And after that I managed to track you guys down here.”

Nella Sampson shook her head. “It's unbelievable!” she murmured.

“After you had been gone for fifteen minutes, I
started to get worried,” said George. “I thought maybe you had decided to make a few more phone calls, but then you still hadn't come back. So I went to check the phones and rest rooms, just to see if you might be there.”

Ned interrupted. “George came back to the table and said you weren't there, so we both went outside to see if you had gone out for some air or something. George went one way, I went the other. After about ten minutes we came back inside. Then I talked to Mario. He said he had seen you leaving in a car and that someone had told him it was some kind of practical joke.”

Nancy looked at him. “I would never play that kind of game.”

“I know, but Denise . . .” Ned trailed off.

George finished his sentence for him. “Denise thought that you had agreed to be part of a practical joke staged by the Eagles.”

Nancy felt herself getting angry. “First of all, why would I want to help the other team play a practical joke on the Wildcats? And second, that kidnapping was no joke. I was there, remember? It was very scary!”

Suddenly Nancy felt as if she was about to cry. She took a deep breath to calm down, then sipped her chocolate. It had gotten lukewarm, and there was a filmy layer of milk on top. She put the cup down.

“The important thing, though, is not what you guys
thought
happened,” she said, leaning forward
in her chair. “The important thing is what actually did happen—and what will happen again, if we don't figure out who the kidnappers are and who they really want.”

“Shouldn't we call the police?” asked Dave.

“I think we should make sure it wasn't a practical joke first,” said Denise. “I mean, I'm sure it seemed very serious to you,” she said to Nancy as if she were talking to a small child. “I just wonder if it seemed scarier to you than they meant it to be.”

“If their idea of a joke is to slap chloroform over Nancy's mouth and leave her to freeze on the beach, I sure wouldn't want to find out what they do when they're serious,” George interjected hotly.

“Hold it,” Ned said, his voice sharp. “I think we need to think this through logically.”

“I think we can assume that the kidnappers aren't going to strike twice in one night,” Nancy said, tiredly running a hand through her hair. “They need time to come up with another plan.”

“So we need to figure out who the intended victim is and get to her first,” George added.

After a short silence Nancy cleared her throat.

“They probably wanted someone else who was at the restaurant,” she said, starting them off.

“Maybe someone with a lot of money,” suggested George.

“Well, I did notice that Martha Dodge was there last night,” offered Denise. “She's a major
snob—I went to high school with her. Anyway, she was sitting at the table behind ours. Her family is incredibly rich.”

“Okay, so her family is rich,” Dave said, leaning back on a pillow on the rug. “But why choose to kidnap somebody's rich daughter from a busy restaurant, when anybody could have caught them in the act?”

“Maybe they
wanted
to get caught,” offered Denise. “Someone told Mario it was a practical joke. It probably was.”

Nancy bit back a sharp retort. She knew her story sounded pretty weird. Why did Denise have to keep insisting that the ordeal Nancy had just gone through had been a practical joke, though?

“But why?” George was asking. “Who is the joke on? Certainly not on Nancy.”

“Let's say it was a real kidnapping attempt—and not a practical joke. Could it have something to do with the basketball tournament?” Dave said. He sat up from his relaxed position on the floor, his blue eyes intense. “Someone could have followed us from the basketball game, thinking Nancy was an Emerson student.”

“And?” Nancy prompted.

“Well, let's say they wanted to distract us from the tournament by kidnapping one of our students,” he went on excitedly. “Then they find out they messed up and didn't get a student.”

“That seems like a pretty drastic thing for the
Eagles to do. Besides, if they were caught, they'd get disqualified not only from the tournament but also from all league play,” Ned objected.

“If
they were caught,” said Dave. “They make it look like a professional job, and we're off their trail.”

Nancy had already thought of this possibility in the car on the way to wherever the kidnappers had taken her. It did seem pretty drastic, she had to agree with Ned. But she could think of no other explanation.

“Mario said someone told him it was a practical joke,” she put in. “That would make someone on the Eagles team an obvious choice.”