Framed & Dangerous (9780545443128) (7 page)

After
the last-period bell rang, I hurried to my locker. Darcy and I were planning a little trip to Mrs. Wolfson's house to find out more about Charles Austin. I felt so hopeless with Zane's case. We didn't have any leads. So at least I could research the Prom Killer case and keep my mind busy.

Darcy came over, pulling her arms through her backpack straps. “Ready to go?”

“There you guys are!” an exasperated voice called out.

Maya ran up, out of breath.

“You were looking for us?” I asked.

“Yeah. You rushed out of class so quickly.” She took a moment to catch her breath, then smiled at us. Like
she had a secret. She whispered, “I researched the thing you wanted me to ask about, and the answer is yes, but you might have to come up with a story.”

I had no idea what she was talking about.

“Mr. Gray?” Darcy guessed.

Oh!

“Yes,” Maya said. “My aunt says you can talk to him in the hospital this afternoon.”

I pumped my fist. “Yes!” Finally, a step forward on Zane's case.

Darcy frowned. “But we'd have to postpone our visit to Mrs. Wolfson.”

“Worth it,” I replied. Zane came before the Prom Killer.

“Here's the thing, though,” Maya said. “Visiting hours end before my aunt's shift starts. So she can't get you in.”

“So how
can
we get in?” I said anxiously. We needed Mr. Gray. He was our only lead.

Maya shifted her gaze to me. “It's family only. So you'll have to …”

“Go undercover,” Darcy finished with a gleam in her eye.

 

The
Danville Regional Hospital is small, and serious cases get shipped to the Boston hospitals. But, thankfully, Mr. Gray's injuries were not severe. He would actually be released soon. But we needed to talk to him ASAP. The more time went on, the more the focus would be on Zane and not on catching the real criminal.

So Darcy and I spent the afternoon biking to the hospital. It was on the opposite end of town, and by the time we got there, we were tired and covered in sweat. If we hadn't been fighting, we would have been talking and joking the whole time, so the ride would have flown by. Now, though, there was a tense silence.

Darcy wiped her brow with her forearm. “Mr. Gray had better have a lead for us after all that,” she complained.

I ignored her. We chained our bikes and walked toward the main entrance. The building looked like a LEGO: brick and square, rising only three floors up. The doors whooshed open automatically, and we walked in.

“What now, you think?” Darcy asked, looking around.

My dad had to have his appendix removed a couple years ago, and I vaguely remembered the visiting process. I pointed at an oversize information desk. “We go up there and ask for his room number.”

The man behind the desk looked young and bored. He was flipping through a magazine and chewing on a wad of gum. We weren't allowed to have gum in
school
, so I thought that must be against some rule in a
hospital
.

Darcy strode up to the desk confidently, her chin jutted out, her shoulders straight. “We're here to visit our uncle, Mr. Gray.”

Oh, man.
That sounded so weird only using a last name. What niece referred to her uncle as Mister Last Name? I braced myself for something bad. He was going to demand to see identification or proof of some kind, I just knew it. He started typing something into the computer, and I was convinced it was a secret message to security. Something like:
Imposters! Come throw them out!

But he only snapped his gum and said, “Room 303.” He aimed a thumb over his shoulder and added in a
monotone, “Take the elevator to the third floor. The nurses' station will be right there. You can ask them or follow the signs.”

“Thanks,” I said, hurrying away.

When we got out of earshot, Darcy pumped her fist. “That was easy!”

“So far,” I reminded her. “Don't jinx it. We still have to get past the nurses' station.”

We found the elevator bank, and I pressed the
UP
button.

Darcy tapped her foot. “I hope he has some clues for us. Otherwise we —”

Over Darcy's shoulder, I saw a tall man walking our way. I held my finger to my lips, and Darcy stopped talking. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. I tried not to look at the stranger. I felt like my guilt was written all over my face. In all caps. I AM VISITING SOMEONE AND I'M NOT A FAMILY MEMBER.

Okay, it's not the world's biggest crime. But still.

He stepped into the elevator with us, carrying a huge “Get Well” display with flowers and balloons. We only had to go up a couple floors but, since we were all silent, it seemed like the longest elevator ride ever.

Finally, it reached the third floor and the doors opened. The man walked out first … right to the nurses' station.

He muttered, “Delivery for Room 306.”

The nurse behind the desk replied, “You can leave it here, and I'll bring it down to the room. Where do I sign?”

Darcy grabbed the sleeve of my sweater. “Now's our chance,” she hissed. “Go fast!”

I followed her, quietly speed-walking past the desk. The nurse was looking down as she signed the delivery man's paperwork. We were going to make it! I looked up at a room number as we passed: 301. Mr. Gray's room was next. Almost there.

“And where are you going?” a woman's voice rang out.

Or not.

We skidded to a stop and turned around. The nurse had spotted us. The delivery man grabbed his paperwork and walked off, his job done.

“Room 303?” I answered, though it sounded like a question.

The nurse examined us closely. She was a tired-
looking woman with frizzy gray hair. “Are you family members?” she asked.

“Yes,” Darcy piped up. “We're Mr. Gray's nieces.”

Darcy and I looked about as related as an apple and a sneaker. But maybe the nurse would buy it.

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you have an adult with you?”

Darcy and I exchanged a glance. I had no idea what to say. My brain was like an upside-down turtle, kicking frantically but getting nowhere. Darcy opened her mouth, readied with what I imagined would be a great story, but the nurse held up her hand.

“Nice try, girls,” she said. “I don't know why you want to visit with your school janitor, but you'll need a family member with you to do so.”

My mouth went dry. She was Psychic Nurse. We were busted. Shoulders sagging, we trudged back over to the elevator and pressed the
DOWN
button.

“Now what?” I whispered.

“We wait for the elevator,” Darcy said sarcastically.

“And then what?”

But Darcy's eyes got big. “Shh,” she said. “Wait a second.”

I looked back over my shoulder and saw that the nurse was walking down the hall with the giant flower and balloon arrangement the delivery man had brought.

“As soon as she enters that room,” Darcy said. “Run.”

I was about to list all the reasons why this was a bad idea, but then the nurse disappeared into Room 306, and Darcy took off running. I followed, as hard as my legs would go. My heart was thudding. Only seconds later we were inside Room 303.

We'd made it!

But Mr. Gray wasn't in the bed.

A bald man, much bigger and older than Mr. Gray lay sleeping in front of us.

Darcy turned to me. “What the —?”

But my eyes went to the yellow curtain by the side of the man's bed. It was a shared room. My dad had had one of those, too. I quietly slid the curtain aside and there was Mr. Gray, in the second bed, reading a book.

His usually clean-shaved face had stubble, and his black hair stuck out at all angles. But he didn't look too bad. His eyes widened at the sight of us.

Darcy immediately went to his bedside. “We're not supposed to be here so please talk quietly,” she begged. “We want to ask you about the fire. And we're kind of in a rush.”

Mr. Gray smirked and laid his book down. “Norah and Darcy. Since when did you two join the police force?”

“We just have a few questions,” I said, wringing my hands. “It will only take a minute.”

“I already told the police everything, girls. You should leave this to them.”

Darcy said, “But our friend is the main suspect right now and we know he didn't do it.”

Mr. Gray frowned. “Who?”

I couldn't hide the desperation in my voice when I answered, “Zane Munro.”

The shock showed all over Mr. Gray's face. He shook his head. “Zane's a good boy. He would never do something like this.”

“We know,” Darcy said. “But whoever did left Zane's wallet at the scene. They framed him. This person is definitely dangerous. Who knows what they'll do next, especially with our big dance coming up. We need to figure out who it is.”

“Is there anything you can remember?” I prompted. “Something you saw or heard?”

Footsteps sounded outside the door, and we all went silent. The nurse was walking from Room 306 back to her desk. I closed my eyes and hoped she didn't stop to check on the patients in here. I stood completely still, every muscle in my body frozen.

The footsteps passed.

I exhaled in relief. “Please,” I said, begging Mr. Gray with my eyes.

He let out a long, slow breath. “Unfortunately, girls, I didn't see or hear anyone. But … I did smell something out of place.”

“Smell?” Darcy repeated.

“What?” I asked, gripping the footboard of the bed. “What did you smell?”

“Perfume,” he said. “Lots of it.”

Darcy
and I waited until Psychic Nurse took a bathroom break. Then we snuck back out of the hospital and ran over to our bikes.

“Now we have proof that Zane didn't set the fire!” I said, exhilarated.

“He clearly doesn't wear perfume,” Darcy agreed. “The arsonist is a girl!”

“We did it,” I said in disbelief. “We saved him.”

I was so happy and in the moment that, without thinking, I reached my fist out. And Darcy, equally thrilled with what we'd done, bumped it.

Then our smiles dropped as we realized we were supposed to be in a fight. We weren't supposed to be doing our special best-friend fist bump. I awkwardly
looked down and started fiddling with my bike's kickstand.

“We should talk,” Darcy said. “And not about cases. About us.”

I nodded and let go of my bike. I didn't know what Darcy was going to say, and it felt like a butterfly sanctuary had set up in my stomach. We sat down beside each other on the curb.

Darcy began, “I was really mad at you. But now that we've been working the case together … I just can't stay mad. You're my best friend, you know. And, yeah, things might be changing a bit, but —”

“They're not changing,” I protested.

“But … you joined the Dance Committee and you're hanging out with all these popular girls.”

“The only popular girl I'm friends with is Fiona! And she's just as much friends with you. The only reason I joined the committee was as a favor to her and to be honest, I'd much rather be home reading my favorite astronomy blog. Or” — I paused to take a deep breath — “hanging out with you.” I saw Darcy give a small smile, and I continued, “When we had our fight, you didn't really give me a chance to talk, and I think there were a few miscommunications.”

“I guess I did interrupt you a lot,” Darcy admitted. “What did you want to say?”

“About the day you invited me to come watch TV,” I began.

Darcy piped up. “And you said you were too busy, but then you invited Fiona over and watched a movie with her instead.”

I shook my head. “It wasn't like that. I was too busy to watch
Crime Scene: New York
with you. But as Fiona and I were leaving your house, she begged me to let her pick out my clothes for the next day. You know how into style she is and all that. So she came in, picked out my clothes, and then my parents invited her to stay for family movie night. And I didn't even think to call you because it was a movie you would've hated, I knew you were busy watching your favorite show, and I never thought you'd assume I was having secret hang-out time with Fiona. I thought you knew me better than that.”

A little pink bloomed on Darcy's cheeks. “Oh.”

Everything I'd been wanting to explain to my BFF spilled out in a rush. “And when I talked about having a sleepover and inviting Fiona and Maya, I never knew you were upset, because you faked being asleep.
All you had to say was, ‘Norah, I was hoping we could hang out just the two of us,' and I totally would've done that.”

“Oh,” Darcy said again.

“There were lots of times when you took things I said the wrong way. But instead of asking me about it, you just kept it all bottled up inside until you exploded that day. It wasn't fair.”

“You're right,” she said. She looked down and started nervously playing with a pebble. “I just thought that you were beginning to … like Fiona better than me. Because she's popular and all that.”

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head. “Since when do I care about who's popular and who's not?”

“I know you don't. But I just felt like you were … changing. You were hanging out with Fiona a lot and then you started dressing like her.”

“Just that one day,” I pointed out.

But then I remembered when I saw Darcy fist bump Hunter in the auditorium. And that bit of jealousy I had. That was how Darcy had felt when she'd seen me hanging with Fiona all the time.

“I'm really sorry,” I said. My throat felt tight, like I was on the verge of crying. I fought to hold the tears
back. “I'm not changing. I'm still nerdy old Norah and I always happily will be. I don't think there's anything wrong with making more friends, though. You like Fiona and Maya.”

“I do. You're right,” Darcy said. “And I'm sorry for acting the way I did. It all could've been avoided if I'd just told you how I was feeling.”

“That's true,” I said, finger raised high.

She held her fist out. “Friends?”

I bumped it. “Best friends. And partners in crime. Always.”

She then reached across the space between us and pulled me in for a hug. Which was huge because Darcy is
not
a hugger. When we pulled away, there were even a few tears in her eyes. Tears! From Darcy! So then I started crying out of happiness. My best friend was back.

And I knew for a fact, deep down inside, the way you know that the sky is blue and the sun will set that night and rise the next day … that Darcy hadn't started the fire. No matter how mad she was at me, she would never want to hurt me or Zane.

 

Friday
morning, I practically skipped into school. Darcy and I were finally and truly made up! I no longer felt like my insides were playing a game of Twister. And I was super excited to share what we'd found out with Principal Plati and get Zane off the hook.

But the school secretary told me the principal was at an offsite meeting with the superintendent and the earliest he could meet with me was after lunch. I took that appointment — I had no choice, really — and wished for time to go faster.

In math class, I finished my quiz early and used the rest of the time to sit and fantasize about my upcoming hero moment. I'd go to Zane's house and knock on his door. He'd open it, his face all depressed, and I'd tell him the good news. His eyes would brighten. He'd lift me up and spin me around in the air. And then he'd ask me to the dance and everything would be right with the world.

“Earth to Norah. Hellooooo? Are you here or out exploring the galaxy?”

I blinked quickly. Darcy was waving her hand in my face.

“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I was just …”

“Daydreaming about telling Zane you saved him.”

Yep, Darcy knew me better than anyone. Caught, I shrugged and smiled.

“Well class is over, dork,” she said lovingly. “Time for lunch.”

I bought a salad and a side of fries, grabbed extra ketchup, and then made my way through the lunchroom chaos to our usual corner table. Maya and Fiona were already seated. Darcy came over next, and I noticed Fiona eyeballing her outfit: black patterned tights under a purple-and-black-striped sweater dress. Pure Darcy.

Maya said brightly, “Hey, Norah, like my Delanceys?”

I furrowed my brow. “Your what?”

She stretched out her leg and flexed her foot. “My new Delancey shoes! Aren't they awesome?”

I took a peek. They were black leather ballet flats with a silver buckle on the front toe. Nicer looking than the sneakers I wore most days, but they didn't look as comfortable. Maya was totally excited, though, so I said, “Yeah, cool!”

Then I noticed Fiona wrinkling her nose in distaste. “What's up with you?” I asked.

Fiona put her hand to her collarbone. “
I
was the first one to wear Delancey flats. Then everyone else started buying them. It seemed like every girl on the Dance Committee had them on.” She rolled her eyes at the fashion injustice.

Maya blushed. I gave her a sympathetic look and said, “Don't mind Miss Runway over here. You know how she gets with fashion. I think the shoes look great on you no matter who else has them.”

“Sorry,” Fiona said. “All I meant was that people should have their own style. I mean, look at Darcy. She may dress like a homeless vampire, but I have to admit she has her own creative look. Darcy, Violet, and I are the fashion visionaries at this school.”

“Well, aren't you special?” I joked, tossing a French fry at Fiona's plate. Meanwhile, Darcy looked surprised at Fiona's compliment.

Fiona tossed the fry back, and we laughed and started a mini food fight until the lunch monitor told us to knock it off.

I was so glad everything was back to normal. Hanging out with my friends — and specifically Darcy again — had temporarily gotten my mind off the meeting with the principal. Though I didn't know why I was nervous about it. It was a
good
thing. Right?

The bell rang, and Darcy, Maya, and Fiona looked right at me.

It was time.

“Good luck,” Maya said. She seemed anxious for me.

Darcy asked, “Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?”

Fiona scoffed. “Any meeting with the principal is better without Miss Troublemaker around.”

“Touché,” Darcy said, laughing. She'd been in the principal's office enough over the years. This was better for me to do myself.

I stood, ready. I was on my own, but armed with evidence. This whole nightmare was going to end. Now.

A few minutes later I sat in the chair outside the office. The longer I waited, the more my confidence melted into nervousness. I pulled the cuffs of my sweatshirt over my hands.

Finally, the secretary said, “Mr. Plati will see you now, Norah. Go on in.”

I took a deep breath and walked into his office. Principal Plati looked up from a pile of folders on his desk. “Good afternoon, Norah. Have a seat.”

He motioned to one of the chairs opposite his desk. I picked the left one and sat down.

“What can I help you with today?” he asked.

I clasped my sweaty hands together on my lap. “I'm here with evidence proving that Zane Munro didn't burn the field house down.”

Mr. Plati's eyebrows rose halfway up his forehead. “Is that so? And what evidence is this?”

“Darcy and I visited Mr. Gray in the hospital yesterday afternoon,” I began.

Mr. Plati held up his hand. “You did what?” he snapped.

I swallowed hard. “We just wanted to ask him if he'd seen or heard anything —”

“That is a job for the police, young lady,” he cut in. “You have no place questioning people.”

Part of me wanted to run away and hide under a desk somewhere. But I forged on. “Mr. Plati, I really believe Zane is innocent. Someone else set the fire
and left his wallet there to frame him. And I felt that the only way to prove it was to talk with Mr. Gray. I'm sorry if you're upset about that, but I got the proof we needed. So I think it turned out okay.”

Mr. Plati considered this for a moment, while banging the end of a pen against his desk. “Fine. Tell me what you found out.”

Back on track, my heart slowed from the speed it had revved up to. I spoke clearly and confidently. “Mr. Gray said that when he went to try to put out the fire, in addition to smelling smoke, he noticed an overwhelming scent of perfume. And, sir, since Zane doesn't wear perfume, I think this rules him out as a suspect. I think we can assume the real arsonist is a girl.”

Principal Plati groaned and rubbed his face with both hands, like I'd just made him overwhelmingly annoyed. “Is that it?” he said.

I wasn't expecting a standing ovation or anything, but his reaction was the complete opposite of what I had anticipated.

“Yes, that's it,” I said, my tone a lot less confident. “Isn't that enough to prove it wasn't Zane?”

Mr. Plati pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply. “This is something the police haven't released to the media, and I shouldn't even be telling you. But you're a bright, well-behaved young lady, Norah. And I want you to stop this nonsense and focus on your schoolwork.” He paused. “The fire department's investigation has shown that the fire started in a trash can pushed into the center of the field house. If the sprinkler system had been completely finished, it would've gone off and prevented the total destruction of the field house. But unfortunately the system wasn't turned on yet and the fire spread from the trash can and eventually engulfed the entire building.”

“Okay …” I said, totally not understanding what this had to do with my evidence of Zane's innocence.

“The investigation also showed the initial cause of the fire. Someone piled napkins and dry grass inside the trash can, covered it with perfume, and lit it. The perfume was an accelerant. That's why Mr. Gray smelled what he did. The fire was
started
with perfume.”

I felt a rumbling all through my body, like an
earthquake. Everything was crashing down. My evidence was not proof at all. Zane was still their main suspect. I wasn't about to head to Zane's house and tell him that I saved him.

So, instead, I ran into the hall in tears.