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Authors: Carolyn Keene

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BOOK: 008 Two Points to Murder
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Nancy didn't either. She pushed her way through the players and stepped forward for a closer look. What she saw confirmed her suspicion: The figure wasn't human after all. It was an effigy--a dummy dressed in an Emerson basketball uniform.

Looking closer, she saw a sign pinned to its chest. It read: Death to the Wildcats!

"That's sick."

Ned was standing next to her, she realized. A look of disgust darkened his handsome, square-cut face.

"You said it!" Mike O'Shea spat, joining them. "Who'd do something like this?"

That was exactly the question on Nancy's mind. If this was supposed to be a joke, then it wasn't very funny. Turning away, she walked over to Coach Burnett, who was standing to one side with Dr. Riggs. Both men were shaking their heads.

"The sooner I get to work on this the better," Nancy said quietly. "Do you think you can get this gym cleared out?"

"Sure thing," the coach replied. "Okay, guys! You've seen what there is to see. Let's move out!"

The team started back to the locker room slowly. Nancy saw many unhappy looks and overheard the words "jinx" and "bad luck" as the players muttered to one another in low tones.

Coach Burnett was following his team out when Nancy stopped him. "That uniform the effigy is wearing . . . how could the joker have gotten hold of it?" she asked.

"Probably bought it." The coach shrugged. "That's not our official uniform--just a copy that anyone can purchase at the student bookstore."

"You're sure? It couldn't have been stolen from someone on the team?"

"No, we've never used that number."

"Okay, thanks, Coach Burnett. I'll let you know the second I've got any solid leads."

When the gym was finally empty, Nancy held a conference with Bess and George.

"First we've got to establish how the joker got in. George, you check every door to the building. I want to know whether they're locked."

"But there must be dozens!" George objected. "How will I find them all?"

"Walk around the outside of the building. That'll be fastest," Nancy suggested. "Bess, you check out the front entrance. Find out who signed the guest register today and whether someone without an Emerson ID could have slipped in."

"You got it, Nan."

While her friends were busy with their assignments, Nancy borrowed a ladder and a knife from a janitor, cut down the effigy, and examined it. It was crudely sewn from a set of one-piece long underwear. Its head was part of a plain white pillowcase. Inside, it was stuffed with Styrofoam packing chips. No clues there, Nancy decided. Anyone could have assembled the materials.

She was studying the note pinned to the effigy's chest when her friends returned.

"The exits can only be opened from the inside," George reported. "Whoever did this was either let in or came in through the front entrance."

"Good work. Bess?"

"The guard claims that security is extra tight because of those assaults the coach mentioned. Only students with Emerson ID cards can get in."

"What about the guest register? Any names down for today?"

"Yes, three . . . Nancy Drew, George Fayne, and Bess Marvin. That's it."

"Terrific." Nancy groaned. "That blows my first theory. I figured the joker might be someone connected with a rival team, but since it's impossible to sneak in here that idea is out."

"The joker could still have been let in through a side exit by someone else," George reasoned.

Nancy shook her head. "I don't think so. Practical jokers don't usually work in pairs. My guess is that the culprit came in through the front entrance with the dummy hidden in a gym bag."

"But, Nancy!" Bess was horrified. "If that's true it means--"

"Yes. The practical joker is someone from Emerson College!"

 

A short while later Ned appeared. In his jeans and crisp shirt, his hair still damp from the shower, Nancy thought he looked fantastic. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but his grim expression made it clear that he was in no mood for fun.

"Think you can track down this clown?" he asked as Nancy drove to the dormitory in which Ned had arranged for the girls to stay.

"It shouldn't be too hard."

"Yes, with Nancy on the case the creep'll be caught in no time," Bess said from the backseat.

"I hope so. These incidents are getting on everyone's nerves."

"Yours, too?" Nancy teased lightly.

"No, but I can understand why some of the guys are upset. We're under a lot of pressure, and the practical jokes just add to it."

"I can imagine," George remarked. "It must be like waiting for bombs to explode, except that you never know when or where they'll go off."

"Exactly."

Two more turns brought them to the dormitory, a modern brick-and-glass building by a parking lot. Ned helped them unload their gear, then began to carry Nancy's duffel bag and Bess's suitcase toward the side entrance.

"Ned, you can't go in there with us!" Nancy said.

"Sure I can. Didn't I tell you?" He grinned. "It's a coed dorm!"

George chuckled. "Hear that, Bess? You should love it here."

"Will you please knock it off? How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not here to hunt guys," Bess declared. "Anyway, who cares? It's strictly buddy-buddy in coed dorms, right, Ned?"

"So I hear," he confirmed.

Their room was on the third floor. It was part of a suite that had its own bathroom and kitchenette. Nancy loved it.

"Who usually lives here?" she asked.

"It's a spare suite," Ned informed her. "The school keeps it for special visitors." He handed them each a key to the room and another to the dorm's side entrance.

Nancy tossed her duffel bag at the foot of one of the beds, then walked with Ned to the door. "Thanks," she said softly. "Uh, Ned . . . any chance we can get together while I'm here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing. Won't you be pretty busy tackling this case?"

"Not
that
busy, I hope."

"Good." He smiled. "Omega Chi Epsilon is having a party tonight after the game. Care to go with me?"

Happiness flooded through her. "You bet!" She grinned. "Can Bess and George go, too?"

"Of course. Just wait for me outside the gym after the game, okay?"

"
Okay!
"

He kissed her then. It was nothing heavy--just a "see you later" sort of kiss--but it was enough for Nancy. Her heart soared.

 

"Will you look at the size of that crowd!" Bess whistled in amazement.

The three girls were walking toward the sports complex for that evening's game against St. George's College. A noisy line several hundred people long stretched from the main entrance to the middle of the parking lot. Homemade banners and purple-and-orange Emerson pennants were everywhere.

"Gee, I hope we'll be able to get hi!" George said.

"We will, don't worry. The gym holds at least four thousand," Nancy told her.

"Good," Bess put in, "but where are the other team's supporters going to sit?"

"Outside, if the Emerson fans have anything to say about it."

As they joined the line, however, Nancy noticed that not everyone was there to cheer on the rival teams. Up near the doors, which were not yet open, a group of sign-carrying students was staging a protest. She could hear jeering voices from the crowd, urging them to get lost.

"I wonder what's going on?" she said curiously.

"Why don't you and George check it out? I'll hold our places," Bess offered.

"Thanks. Let's go."

As she and George drew close, Nancy saw that the signs the protesters carried read "Say 'No' to Burnett's Budget!" and "Scholarship Before Sports!" The protesters seemed discouraged by the crowd's hostility, but their leader--a brown-haired, confident-looking boy--was determined to continue the demonstration.

"C'mon . . . we can't give up yet!" he roared. "Hey . . . how about you two girls? Will you sign our petition?" He thrust a clipboard at Nancy and George.

Nancy glanced at the letter it held. There were only half a dozen signatures on it. "Uh . . . I don't know. What does it say?"

"It demands that the trustees assign less money to the Physical Education department in next year's budget."

George bristled. "Why should they do that? Physical education is important!"

"Sure, but not more important than academics. Yet each year the P.E. department gets more money than any other. It's not fair."

"Yes it is," George countered. "Sports programs are expensive."

The boy's face darkened. "Oh, I get it--you're a jock. You care more about the locker room than about the classroom."

"And you'd rather grind than unwind!" George shot back. "Tell me something--what makes you think you know what's best for this school?"

"Well, for one thing I'm president of the student council. Tom Stafford's the name, in case you didn't know."

"I didn't. But I still say sports are important."

"Typical," Tom said, turning away in disgust. "You jocks are all alike--all brawn, no brains."

Now Nancy was angry, too. She believed strongly in free speech, but the student leader's last remark was too much.

"That's not fair. I know plenty of athletes who are also excellent students," she said.

Tom pivoted. "Sure. Name one!"

"My boyfriend, Ned Nickerson."

The change that came over Tom at the mention of Ned's name was striking. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. His voice grew cold. "You go out with the Big Nick, huh? Well, congratulations. I hope you're enjoying your share of the school's money."

"My
what
?" Nancy asked, astonished.

"You know what I'm talking about," Tom hinted darkly. "Tell me, do you and Ned toast the trustees when you're out on the town?"

"Just what are you implying?" she demanded. "What do our dates have to do with trustees or school money or
anything
?"

George tugged on her arm. "Come on, Nancy, this guy's a jerk. Let's go."

"Not until he explains himself! He's insulting Ned! And I'm not going to let him get away with it!"

"Nancy, come
on
! The line's beginning to move."

Reluctantly, Nancy abandoned her argument with Tom Stafford and rejoined the line. In no time they were inside, climbing the bleachers to their seats. She explained what had happened to Bess, who agreed that Tom was out of his mind.

"How someone like that could be elected president of the student council is beyond me," she remarked.

"Me, too."

Nancy seethed quietly. Once the game began, however, she gradually forgot the encounter. The action was fast and exciting, and it was impossible not to be swept up by it.

St. George's had a good team, but they were no match for Emerson's razzle-dazzle offense and their tough, relentless defense. Several times Ned took possession on the rebound and led his team in fast break drives down the court. The score climbed, and by the end of the first half Emerson was ahead by an eighteen-point margin.

"Looks like the game's in the bag," Nancy said to George during half time.

"Sure looks that way." George grinned back.

But a few minutes later Nancy realized she had spoken too soon. Shortly after the jump ball that began the second half, the action came to a halt as a blood-curdling scream rang out!

Chapter Three

A
N EERIE SILENCE
descended in the gym. It didn't last, however. A second later a murmur rose from the bleachers. On the court, a referee blew his whistle for a time-out. Nancy noticed security guards hurrying toward the Emerson bench, and without a moment's hesitation she joined them.

The scream had come from the pretty, freckle-faced student who masqueraded as the team mascot, the Emerson Wildcat, Nancy discovered. The girl was standing behind the bench in tears. She wore the Wildcat costume, minus the head, but it hung from her limbs in tatters.

It had been slashed to ribbons!

"I don't understand. . . . I only had it off for a few minutes!" the girl sobbed. "I was taking a break, and . . . and when I put it back on . . ." Her sobs grew louder.

"Don't worry, it isn't your fault," the head cheerleader consoled her. "It could have happened to anyone."

Nancy pushed through the crowd around the unhappy girl. "Excuse me . . . where did you put the costume while you were on your break?"

"In the cheerleaders' locker room, as always," the girl said, wiping her eyes with her fingers.

"Was the room locked?"

"No, it never is, as far as I know."

"Did you notice anyone hanging around in the corridor outside it?"

"No! The hall was empty and so was the locker room."

"Too bad," Nancy muttered. Obviously, the practical joker had struck again. She had hoped to gain some clues to his or her identity, but it appeared that none had been left.

Disappointed, she turned away. As she did, she saw that the team members were staring at the damage to their mascot. Their expressions ranged from shock to fear. Probably they were wondering if the next practical joke would involve one of
them
being slashed, she guessed.

Someone else was looking at the damage, too, she discovered a moment later--Tom Stafford. He was hovering inconspicuously at the edge of the crowd, but thanks to her earlier encounter with him she picked him out right away. Could he have slashed the costume? There was no way to be sure, of course, but the satisfied expression on his face made her very suspicious.

Nancy decided to question him. By the time she reached the spot where he had been standing, however, he was gone.

 

When the game began again it quickly became clear that Emerson had lost its edge. St. George's scored three times in less than one minute, and a series of fouls by Emerson players only made the situation worse. With ten minutes left, Emerson's lead had dropped to a slim four points.

Nancy cheered herself hoarse. If Emerson didn't pull together soon, she knew, they'd lose the game--and with it their chances of making the NCAA playoffs.

The score seesawed, but finally, with just five minutes left to play, Emerson began to rally. Coach Burnett called for a full court press--an aggressive defense pattern. It was a risky move, but it worked. Frustrated, St. George's lost its momentum. The rhythm of the game shifted. Once again Emerson regained the upper hand. When the final buzzer sounded, the score was Emerson 79, St. George's 73.

BOOK: 008 Two Points to Murder
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