Fatal Ransom (4 page)

Lance dropped her arm and stepped back a pace. “No. I'm not firing you. I would never do that! But you've been injured. I can't ask you to stay on the case now!”

“Lance,” Nancy said, “when I sign up for a case, I sign up for the duration. A little sprain isn't going to interfere with my work, believe me. I've been hurt worse than this lots of times! It's all part of the job. I still think I can get Hal back. You can call in the police if you want, but I'd still like to continue working. A sprained arm won't affect my brain. It won't even affect my physical ability that much.”

“Nancy Drew,” Lance said, “I take it back. If you want to stay on this case, I'm all for it. And I won't call in the police
yet—
in case the kidnappers meant it when they said they'd kill Hal if I did.” He started for the car again, and then
gave Nancy's left arm a gentle squeeze. “I don't think I've ever met anyone as dedicated as you. I wish Monica were more like you.”

Nancy didn't answer. She was thinking that the only thing she had in common with Monica was that they were both female.

“I wish she had some direction in her life,” Lance said. “It's so hard to get her to think about anything besides herself. If Monica were half as dedicated to something as you are to your work, she'd be—well, she'd be—”

Nancy cleared her throat. “I'm sure Monica must have some good qualities,” she said, wondering what they might be.

Lance held the car door open for her, then went around to the driver's side and got in. For a minute he sat staring out the windshield at the crowded parking lot. “We used to care for each other,” he said. “But not anymore.”

Nancy wasn't sure what to say. “Things change,” she finally ventured.

“Before the kidnapping we had finally decided to break up. It was hard on both of us. Harder on her, really, I suppose. That's why I told her she could stay at the house until she found a suitable place. Of course I'll pay for her new place until she gets a job. She'll probably choose the most expensive apartment she can find—but at the moment it seems worth the price.”

That explained Monica's presence—and her attitude, Nancy thought to herself.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Nancy told Lance what she thought he'd like to hear: “I'm sure everything will work out.”

It wasn't what she believed.

• • •

It was afternoon before Nancy was able to investigate the mall, as she had planned to do in the morning. She and George walked together, hoping to find anything that they could use as a clue.

“I never come over here to shop, but I see what Lance meant,” Nancy said. “This mall
is
a hangout for a lot of punk kids.”

“There's nothing wrong with punkers,” George said. “They're just kids trying to make a different kind of statement.”

“I know,” said Nancy, “but I am going to follow my lead on Hal's crowd until I know definitely if they're involved with this case or not.”

“But just because they dress differently from us doesn't make them kidnappers!”

“You're right,” Nancy said. “But Lance thinks Hal's girlfriend, Amy, knows something about all this. And the last time Lance talked to Hal, Hal said he was going to the mall. I just feel there has to be a tie-in here somewhere.”

As they finished their round of the mall, Nancy added, “Lance gave me a security guard's name. I think I'll go see if he's on duty and check things out with him. Why don't you go ahead and make another round while I'm gone? Keep your eye out for anyone who looks like Hal Colson or Amy Tyler.”

“Love to, Nancy,” George said. “How will I recognize them?”

Nancy showed her the photo of Hal Colson. “This is Hal. All I can tell you about Amy Tyler is that she wears punk clothes and she has weird hair. Orange spiked on the left side, shoulder-length purple on the right. Shouldn't be too hard to find, actually—even in this crowd. Meet you back here.”

“I'll do my best,” George said.

They parted company, and Nancy turned off the main mall corridor and started down a hall with a sign that said Security. She walked a few feet down the short, narrow, isolated passageway, going by a couple of storerooms on the way.

The door marked Woodland Mall Security was ajar. Nancy raised her hand to knock, and at that moment she heard a female voice. “Soon this will all be over, and you'll be a rich man.”

The voice was hauntingly familiar. But whose was it? And where was it coming from?

Nancy stepped closer and tried to peek through the crack in the open door.

Suddenly she heard a scuffling noise coming from the main mall corridor. She stepped away from the door to listen.

“Oh, no!” a woman screamed. “She's dead!”

N
ANCY RACED OUT
into the mall corridor. What on earth was going on?

Once she was out in the open area, she saw a crowd gathered in front of a store across the way. She hurried over and wove her way into its center.

“What's happened?” she asked.

A young pregnant woman was lying on the floor. She opened her eyes, then looked up at Nancy and the crowd in total shock. “Oh,” she murmured. “I—I must have fainted. I'm so sorry.”

She tried to get to her feet, but only succeeded
in raising herself to a sitting position. The people crowding around her began to disappear one by one, apparently disappointed that something more dramatic hadn't happened.

Nancy grimaced. That's crowd mentality for you, she thought. “Are you hurt? Is there anything I can do to help you?” she asked the woman.

“You could help me up,” she said, and laughed.

Nancy did. Once the woman was on her feet again, Nancy asked, “Can I get you to a doctor?”

The woman grinned. “No. I'll be fine now. This happens to me all the time.” She thanked Nancy and walked away.

Nancy watched for a few seconds to make sure the woman stayed on her feet. Then she looked around to see if George had been in on any of the excitement. There was no sign of her—but who was that disappearing into that expensive shoestore down the corridor? It looked like Monica! Nancy ran down the hall and burst into the store.

“Where's the woman who just walked in here?” she asked the haughty-looking salesman who had immediately approached her.

“I'm sorry, miss, but you—” But Nancy had already spotted Monica in the corner, where
she was trying on an expensive pair of green snakeskin boots.

“Monica!” Nancy exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Did anyone call for Lance while I was at the hospital? Were there any messages?”

Monica looked incredulous—and disgusted. “You followed me in here to question me?” she asked. “I didn't stick around after you left, if that's what you mean. I'm not your personal secretary.”

“I asked you to stay by the phone,” Nancy said angrily. “I'd have thought it was the least you could do, since you were the reason Lance had to take me to the hospital.”

“Well, you'll just have to think again,” Monica purred. “Get it into your head that I don't care anything about what's happened to Hal. All right?”

“But he's Lance's nephew! Don't you at least—”

“Could you come over here a minute?” Monica interrupted, raising her voice and beckoning to the salesman. In an instant he was at her side.

“This girl is really pestering me,” she said. “Is it too much to ask that I be allowed to do my shopping in peace? You'd think the least you could do would be to keep people from loitering in here.”

The salesman turned to Nancy. “I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave right away. You're
upsetting one of our best customers,” he said coldly.

“But I—” Nancy began.

“Go play detective somewhere else,” said Monica.

“Please, miss. Before I call security,” said the salesman.

Nancy left without a word. She couldn't trust herself to speak.

But at least the salesman had reminded her of where she had been heading originally. She walked back to the security office and approached the door slowly. This time, though, the door was closed, and there were no sounds coming from the other side.

Nancy knocked lightly, and a heavyset man in a gray uniform opened the door.

“Excuse me, could you tell me where I can find Mr. Mathers?” Nancy asked.

“That's me,” the man said. “Can I help you?”

Nancy smiled. “I'm Susan Bigelow,” she said. “From WBBB.” She hoped Lester Mathers wasn't too familiar with the local TV newscasters. “We're doing a story about the new mall, and I thought you might be able to give me some information. Maybe a unique slant I could use to open this series. What kind of place is it to work at?”

She couldn't tell by his expression whether he was buying her story, but she was determined to stay with it.

“Well,” he said, rubbing his forehead, “I have to say I can't imagine why anyone would want to watch a story on TV about this mall. What's there to say about it that isn't depressing? It's falling down around everyone's ears!”

“Falling down? What do you mean?” Nancy asked.

“I didn't mean it literally, of course. It's just that with all these kids hanging around here and everything—”

“The kids cause a problem?”

“Well, it's not anything you could put your finger on, exactly. It's just that there are so many of them, and they all look so weird. They fight a lot, and when they aren't fighting they just stand around and stare at people. Why'd they have to pick
this
mall? It's driving business away!”

“Do you know any of the kids personally? Do you ever talk to any of them?” asked Nancy. Maybe he'd end up helping her after all.

Lester Mathers laughed shortly. “They don't exactly drop in for tea, if that's what you mean. The only ones I know are the ones who cause trouble. Why, just a few days ago I—”

He broke off and stared strangely at Nancy.
“What kind of story did you say you were doing?”

“Just some sort of human interest thing,” Nancy said evasively. She was dying to know what he'd been about to say, but she didn't want to make him suspicious. Instead she pulled out her picture of Hal and showed it to him. “Do you know this boy?”

Lester looked at it for a second. “Why, that's young Hal Colson.” He shook his head. “Michael Colson's son. He sure don't take after his old man. Good thing Mike's not around to see him now.”

“So you knew Michael Colson?”

“Yes, I did,” said Lester quietly. “I thought the world of him too. Wonderful personality. When he was alive, this place was just getting started. Construction men all over, nothing finished—but he gave you the feeling that it was going to be the most beautiful set of shops in the world. And he knew each of us by name. He could really make you feel like a part of things.”

He shook his head again. “Like I said, things have changed. It sure isn't the same kind of place now.”

“I heard somewhere that the mall wasn't filling up quite as fast as Michael Colson must have expected,” said Nancy.

“It's true. The new guy just doesn't have the
right touch, I guess. Look at all those empty storefronts! He hasn't rented out any new space in a long time. If they don't watch out, it'll be a ghost town around here.”

“But Lance told me he thinks that's only temporary,” Nancy said quickly.

“Lance? You mean you know Lawrence Colson?” Lester's expression was suddenly guarded.

“I—well, I talked to him before I started work on the story, of course,” said Nancy. Inside she was furious with herself. She had wanted to defend Lance so much that she completely derailed the interview. Now Lester was rising to his feet, and he looked angry.

“What are you trying to do, Miss Bigelow?” he asked. “Get me in trouble? Make me spill the beans on the boss? Is that what you call ‘human interest'—getting me fired?”

“No, no!” Nancy said. “I didn't mean to upset you. I only wanted a little background—”

“Sure you did! You reporters are all alike. Get out of my office.”

“Mr. Mathers, I promise you, you're making a mistake,” Nancy said, trying to sound calm. “If you'll only listen to me for a second—”

“I told you to leave. This is the only job I have, and I'd like to keep it. Now move! The interview is over.”

Nancy stood up, and as she did she noticed a row of videotapes on a shelf over Lester's head. All of them were labeled Scanner. They must be security tapes of the mall—and perhaps Hal was on some of them!

Well, that wasn't the exact time to ask about them. “Goodbye, and thank you for your help,” Nancy told Lester politely. “I hope you enjoy seeing the story on TV.”