Framed & Dangerous (9780545443128) (9 page)

Clearly
the Prom Killer was not stalking the halls of Danville Middle School. Whoever set that fire was either dead or eighty years old now. And why would they want to stir up trouble again, after all this time? Our fire had nothing to do with the Prom Killer. My logical mind knew this.

The rest of the school? Not so much.

Kids went bananas. Some were convinced that a ghost was haunting the halls. Some were even saying they were too scared to go to the dance. Rumors flew that the field house was only the first fire. The Prom Killer was going to return on the night of the dance and burn down the gym with everyone in it.

By the end of the day, even Fiona was in a tizzy. She ran up to my locker, basically panting in panic. “There's a rumor that Principal Plati might cancel the dance!”

I twirled my combination on the dial and opened the locker door. “Because someone wrote something stupid on a poster?” I scoffed. I hardly believed that.

Fiona stomped her foot. “Because people are freaking out and therefore their parents will freak out. Zane hasn't been arrested yet. He's still just a suspect. So people are starting to wonder if the Prom Killer story is coming true again. If history will repeat itself.”

I felt a flicker of doubt. “They wouldn't cancel the dance altogether, though. Right?”

“Yeah, they would,” Darcy said, coming up behind me. She hefted her backpack up over one shoulder. “They take this stuff seriously. If there's even a small chance the dance is unsafe, it will be canceled for sure.”

I could feel the blood draining from my face. Only a few days ago, everything had been wonderful. Zane was about to ask me to the dance. Then Zane was framed. We didn't solve the case. And now the dance might be canceled.

My throat tightened as a mixture of anger and sadness rushed through me. “It's just so unfair. All of this.”

“I know!” Fiona agreed, raising her fist in the air. “The Dance Committee worked so hard. We're having our last meeting Wednesday afternoon to make decorations. Saturday night is going to be perfect. Unless it gets canceled.”

“It won't if we solve the case first,” Darcy said, trying to remain hopeful.

But I wasn't so sure.

 

Tuesday
afternoon, Darcy and I decided to try and visit the Maples Nursing Home again.

The same woman was behind the desk. She had a big pouf of hair that she'd probably meant to dye red but looked kind of pink. She remembered us. “Here to see Helen?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered. “If she's well.”

The woman made a face that worried me. “As well as she's going to get, I'm afraid. Go on down the hall. She's in the first room on your right.”

“That was kind of ominous,” Darcy whispered as we walked.

We found Helen's room quickly enough. It was large and homey looking, with a bright and big window, a bed, a television set, a small couch, and a rocking chair. A thin, frail-looking woman rocked in the chair while staring out the window.

Darcy coughed into her hand. “Excuse me? Are you Helen Fallon?”

The woman slowly turned her head toward us. She wore a flowered housedress and had short, thinning white hair. “Yes, I am,” she said, glancing from Darcy to me in confusion.

I gingerly approached the chair, suddenly nervous. She was just a little old lady, nothing to be scared of, but something about her seemed ghostlike and sad. “We'd like to talk to you for a few minutes, if that's all right.”

“About what?” she asked warily.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words didn't come.

Darcy had no such problem. “About prom night, 1948.”

The woman's eyes widened. After a long pause, she motioned to the couch opposite her chair. “Have a seat.”

Darcy and I settled in on the couch, and Helen turned toward us. She was too skinny and seemed sickly. She let out a bone-shaking cough into her fist.

I looked at Darcy and grimaced. That must have been what the woman behind the desk meant. Helen was dying. I felt guilty interrogating her about something that had happened so long ago. We should let her sit in peace. Yet, at the same time, she'd invited us to stay. Maybe she
wanted
to talk about it.

“So,” Helen said. “What do you want to know?”

I nudged Darcy with my elbow. She could start.

Darcy cleared her throat. “Um, I don't know if you heard, but our field house burned down. At your old school.”

Helen nodded. “Unfortunate. I read about that in the paper.”

“We were supposed to have our dance in that building,” Darcy explained. “So, our fire has brought up stories about …”

“My fire,” Helen said matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” I chimed in. “Rumors and ghost stories. We know that you and the boy who died were close, and I feel bad even asking you these questions, but we were hoping —”

Helen put her hand up. She held me in a steely gaze, like she was making some momentous decision. After what seemed like forever, she simply said, “It's time.”

“Time for what?” I asked. Time for us to leave?

“It's time for the truth,” she said, and her voice didn't sound frail anymore. It had force behind it. She sat up a bit straighter in her seat and said, “I've kept it in for so long. A lifetime really. It's time for my story to be told.”

I could feel Darcy trembling with anticipation beside me. “Okay …” she said.

Helen clasped her hands on her lap and met our eyes. “I set the fire.”

I stared at her in shock. “What?”

“Prom. Nineteen forty-eight. I set the fire,” she repeated.

Darcy and I sat in stunned silence. If I were the fainting type, I would have dropped to the floor.

“I loved Charlie Austin,” Helen began. “And I do believe he was starting to return my feelings. Even though he was much more popular than I was, he'd asked me to prom. It was a dream come true.”

Helen beamed at the memory. Then the smile slipped from her face as she said, “But then Betty Frazier and her boyfriend suddenly broke up. She was beautiful, a stunner really. And she decided she wanted Charlie by her side at the prom.”

“What did he do?” Darcy asked.

“He dropped me. Just like that. The day before prom. I was dateless and heartbroken. Embarrassed and ashamed.”

My heart sank, imagining how Helen must have felt. But then I remembered … she wasn't so innocent after all. I said, “But you went to prom night anyway.”

Helen took a deep breath. “I didn't want anyone to get hurt, you should know that. All I wanted was to spoil the prom. Since it had already been ruined for me. I set a small fire in a darkened corner. I figured it would start slowly, they'd all run out, and the dance would end early. But the decorations caught and the flames spread too quickly.”

I shuddered, picturing the moment. My fingers crept toward Darcy until they found her hand to clasp on to. Hers felt as clammy as mine.

Helen's eyes were wild and the words started to come faster. “There was panic and horror. Everyone made it out but Charlie … he spotted me. I ran out the back door. He went out front and didn't see me in the crowd. So he went back in and refused to come out until he'd found me. He felt guilty, I think. But he didn't realize I'd left the building … and he died in there.”

I clutched my stomach, feeling sick. Darcy looked even paler than usual.

Helen continued, “When he was still in the building searching for me, I was halfway down the street, running home, gripped with guilt over what I'd done. And I was only feeling terrible about the fire. I didn't find out anyone was hurt until the next morning. Charlie was dead, and it was my fault.”

Helen's bloodshot eyes were wet and glassy. Her voice broke. “I never got over it. I never allowed myself to date or marry or have children because Charlie would never have those things.” Her voice cracked, and she let out a rattling cough.

I recoiled deeper into the couch. I wished I could click my heels three times and be back at home, without these scary images in my head. But Darcy squeezed my hand, silently telling me to be brave.

After she regained her composure, Helen said, “His death was accidental. But that doesn't make it any less my fault.” Tears slicked her face as she focused her gaze on us. “You can do what you wish with this information. Go to the police. Whatever you feel you have to do. But learn this lesson from me, girls. Love can be the most wonderful thing. But jealousy will bring about your darkest hour.”

Helen launched into another coughing fit. She turned her back to us and resumed gazing out the window, perhaps thinking about her crime. Darcy and I exchanged a glance and managed to walk numbly out of her room. We didn't speak a word as we got to our bikes, still dazed.

Darcy broke the silence. “Well, that was unexpected.”

I nodded. When I'd entered Helen's room, I never for a moment guessed that she would be the infamous Prom Killer. I swallowed hard. “What should we do? She's guilty of something horrible.”

Darcy shook her head. “I know. But she never meant to harm anyone.”

Thinking out loud, I said, “Yeah, but doesn't she need to be punished?”

“She punished
herself
for her entire life,” Darcy said. “Plus, you saw her. She's not going to live much longer.”

That was true. What did I want … for her to spend the last week of her life in jail? “The whole thing is just so sad,” I said. “The tragedy could've been prevented to begin with. But once it happened, Helen should've been brave and told the truth right away.”

“I agree,” Darcy said. “But it's in our hands now. So what do we do about it?”

I took a deep breath and thought about everything we'd learned. “I think what Helen and Charles would want is for people to learn from the mistakes
they
made, and to not repeat them.”

Darcy nodded. “When this is all over, we'll talk to Mrs. Wolfson. She'll help us figure out the right thing to do.”

Wednesday,
I still felt rattled from our discovery of the real Prom Killer. But in addition to all these mixed-up feelings about 1948, I also felt heartened. We'd done it. We followed the clues right to the real Prom Killer. I felt a flicker of hope that we'd be able to do the same for our very own fire starter.

When I got to the Dance Committee meeting, I could hear squeals of excitement from the girls inside. I walked in just as Fiona was banging her gavel on the podium to start the meeting.

Violet rolled her eyes at the sight of me.

“Word has come from Principal Plati that the dance will
not
be canceled,” Fiona said. “So it's time for decorations!”

The crowd clapped and cheered. Fiona took charge, breaking everyone into stations. I was assigned to glitter duty, which was perfect. My job was to go from table to table, tossing my glitter on any decoration that needed it. So I could move around the room, listen to conversations, and keep my eyes open for clues.

Fiona instructed everyone to spread out their supplies. People had been put in charge of bringing paper, glue, scissors, and other stuff. I wandered around with my tub of glitter, stopping to sprinkle it on stars here and there. A few girls wore Delanceys, but — since most girls don't wear the same shoes every day — some who wore them yesterday weren't wearing them today. Which made it even more confusing.

By the time the meeting was finishing up, the room was a disaster area. Backpacks, papers, and remnants of cutouts were strewn about everywhere. I stayed behind with a few others to help clean up.

Mrs. Haymon, the teacher-advisor, held up the recycling bin as I dumped a bunch of cut-up paper into it. “Thanks for helping, Norah,” she said.

Even though I wasn't feeling very cheery, I gave Mrs. Haymon a smile and said, “No problem.” She
was one of my favorite teachers. Her mind was a lot like mine — focused on logic and reason — and we'd had a couple cool talks about astronomy in the past.

I bent down to pick a pile of trash off the floor, when I saw something that made my heart lodge in my throat.

It was a piece of notebook paper that must have fallen out of someone's book or backpack during a supply rummage. It was only a girly doodle of a heart with a boy's name in the middle. Nothing earth-shattering.

Except the name was Zane.

And the nice happy heart had a giant, dark X crossed over it.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one on the Dance Committee with Zane on the brain. But this person seemed to have … conflicted emotions about him.

I looked around the room. There was no way to tell who it came from. Half the committee members had already left. But as I looked down at the note again, something in the back of my mind tingled. I squinted and stared until I realized what was nagging at me.

I'd seen this handwriting before.

 

“Someone
else on the Dance Committee likes Zane,” I said, handing Darcy the note. I'd hurried to her house with my heart racing and we were now in her basement. “Well,
liked
is probably the more appropriate word. Now they seem to hate him.”

Darcy examined the note for a minute, deep in thought. Then she looked up at me. “The field house fire ties in to the Prom Killer after all.”

I gulped. “Say what?”

She dropped the note on the couch and started pacing. “This whole time we've been thinking, ‘Why would anyone do this? Everyone likes Zane.'”

I shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

She opened her arms wide. “Maybe that's it then. Someone
likes
Zane. Maybe someone jealous enough to want to ruin his life because he likes … someone else instead.” She made googly eyes at me rather than saying my name.

I blushed, but then thought for a moment. “Helen was so jealous over Charlie taking Betty to the prom that she set out to ruin their night.” I pointed to the
note. “And this person found out that Zane was going to ask me to the dance and decided if she couldn't go with him, no one could?”

Darcy nodded and rubbed her chin. “That would make sense. How would this other girl find that out, though?”

I had a theory. “Can I borrow your cell phone for a minute?”

Darcy pulled it out of her pocket and handed it over. I scrolled down to Fiona's number and hit
CALL
. After two rings, Fiona picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey, it's Norah. I'm using Darcy's phone.”

I could hear the smack of bubble gum. “What's up?” she asked between chews.

“Did you tell anyone anything about Zane and me?”

The chewing stopped. “Like what?”

“That he might like me or something like that.”

The line was silent for a moment. Then Fiona said, “Promise you won't get mad?”

I sighed. “I promise.”

“I may have said that you and Zane were totally crushing on each other and that he was definitely going to ask you to the dance.”

I smacked my face into my palm.

“I'm sorry!” Fiona said. “But you know how I am with gossip. It's like a compulsion. I can't
not
talk about these things with people.”

“Fine, fine.” I wasn't too mad. She was about to give us our biggest clue. “Okay, Fiona, this is very important. You need to remember. Who did you tell?”

“Um, it was at the Dance Committee meeting the week before the fire.”

“Okay …” I said. “And
who
did you tell?”

A pause. “Everyone at the meeting.”

After a lot of groaning on my end and apologizing on her end, I got off the phone and filled Darcy in. She rolled her eyes about Fiona's big mouth, but said, “That could be the arsonist's motive, though.”

Helen's words echoed in my head.
Jealousy will bring about your darkest hour.
Was someone really jealous enough — of Zane and
me
— to commit a crime?

“So how do we figure out who it is?” I blurted.

“We need a Partners in Crime brainstorm,” Darcy replied. “Hang on.”

She went into the corner and dragged a big whiteboard on an easel into the center of the room. She uncapped one marker and handed me another.

“Where did this come from?” I asked.

“Found it at a yard sale,” she said. “I knew it would come in handy. Detectives use these all the time on crime shows. It helps to write down all the clues and then you can see patterns you didn't realize were there.”

I was willing to try anything. “Okay, where do we begin?”

She spoke out loud as she wrote. “The arsonist is a girl, and she's on the Dance Committee.”

The marker squeaked as she scribbled.

CLUES

GIRL

DANCE COMMITTEE

“She wears Delanceys,” I said.

Darcy wrote: DELANCEY SHOES.

“What else do we have?” she asked.

I looked at the note in my hand and remembered my realization from the meeting. “The handwriting is big, round, and looping. And notice the tiny heart doodled inside the
e
on
Zane
.”

“Great!” Darcy said. “Distinctive handwriting!”

“There's more,” I said. “I first noticed this strange
e
on the dance posters that were hung in school … the morning of the fire.”

Darcy's eyes gleamed. “So whoever wrote this note also put up the first posters.”

“Yep,” I said. “And whoever did it came into school extra early on that day to hang them. But when Fiona asked at the Dance Committee who did it … no one raised their hand.”

“Because that would place her at school early the morning of the fire,” Darcy said, marker raised in the air. She turned to the board and wrote: HUNG THE DANCE POSTERS.

Then she started a second column and wrote:

TIMELINE

STARTED FIRE

HUNG POSTERS

E-MAILED ZANE FROM COMPUTER LAB

“It looks like she came in early to start the fire,” I said, “but she needed an alibi in case she got caught on school grounds.”

“So she hung the posters in case anyone saw her around,” Darcy said. “And then she had extra time to e-mail Zane from the computer lab while everyone else was gathering outside.”

“Exactly.” I tapped a fingernail on the board. “Now for suspects.”

I made a third column with the word SUSPECTS.

“You know who's on Dance Committee and has the right shoes?” Darcy said with one eyebrow raised.

I shook my head. “Don't say Maya.”

“Maya!” Darcy cried.

I glared at her.

“What?” Darcy made a face. “She's a legit suspect. She and Zane have gotten close, being neighbors and all.”

“She's also neighbors with Hunter,” I pointed out. “Maybe she has a crush on him, too?”

Something flashed in Darcy's eyes. But as quickly as it came, it disappeared. “Hunter's not the one in trouble right now,” she said.

I gave an annoyed sigh. “Maya was excited to tell me Zane's secret was that he liked me. She wasn't jealous.”

“Fine, then,” Darcy said reluctantly. “Is there anyone on Dance Committee who
does
act jealous?”

Violet's sneer immediately came to mind.

Darcy pointed at my face. “You're thinking of someone. Who?”

“Well, Violet clearly has a problem with me. But I
assumed it was because my dance theme got chosen over hers.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “That could be it. She
is
a girl who likes to get her way. But her anger about the theme could also be covering up her true jealousy … over Zane.”

I stepped back and looked at our work on the board. It was frustrating to be so close yet still so far. “We have it,” I said, clenching my fist. “We know everything this girl did and when she did it. We just don't know for sure
who
she is.”

Darcy paced back and forth in front of the board, then suddenly stopped. She picked the note back up from the couch and tapped her finger on the unique
e
.

A slow smile spread on her face. “We don't know who she is, but we know how to catch her.”