Out of Bounds (9 page)

E
DGAR
C
HESSMAN
?” George said after Nancy filled her in on what had happened. “A blackmailer?”

“I know. It's hard to believe, isn't it? But I saw him.” With a shake of her head, Nancy laid the blackmail note down on the kitchen table.

“ ‘Kiss your dreams goodbye,' ” Bess read, focused on the letter still. “What dreams?”

“I wish I knew,” said Nancy, sitting down at the table and leaning back in her chair.

“What's next, Nan?” asked George, pulling up a chair for herself and sitting down next to her friends. “Are you going to put this back in Pete's doorway?”

“Not right away,” Nancy answered, lightly fingering the letter. “I have a feeling I can learn more by
not
delivering it. I want to see what Edgar does when Pete doesn't come up with the money.”

“But wouldn't it be the perfect trap to return the letter?” Bess urged. “You could call the police—”

“And they could catch Pete in the act of handing over the money!” George finished for her cousin.

“Not so fast, guys,” said Nancy, running a hand through her hair. “There's nothing illegal about giving somebody money. Also, we don't know
why
Pete's being blackmailed, or what that guy Doc has to do with this whole thing. There's a lot more we have to find out.”

“You're right,” murmured George, leaning on an elbow with her cheek on her palm. “This case is weird.”

“Let's concentrate on what we
do
know,” Nancy suggested. “Sometimes that helps.”

“We know Edgar is blackmailing Pete,” Bess offered.

“It sure seems like that's the case,” said Nancy with a nod. “But, remember,
Pete
doesn't necessarily know who his blackmailer is. This letter is anonymous.”

“True,” George agreed.

“I think it's rotten of Pete to accuse Cynthia of
stealing when he's the one taking money from his own restaurant to pay a blackmailer!” Bess said in a sudden outburst.

“Hold on, Bess,” Nancy replied reasonably. “We don't have any proof that Pete is stealing from Touchdown, though it certainly does look that way.”

“Are you going to tell Cynthia what's going on?” George asked.

“Maybe I'd better,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “She's been so anxious.”

“The news should help her enjoy the party more. I'm really excited about it—assuming Bedford beats Montvale tomorrow.”

“Are you coming with us, or do you have to work, Nancy?” George asked.

“I wouldn't miss the game for anything,” Nancy said with a smile. “After all, Pete's going to be there. And wherever Pete goes, I go.”

• • •

“It's all so incredible,” said Cynthia, shaking her head in disbelief the next day before the opening kickoff. “I can't believe Pete's stealing the money from Touchdown.”

The stadium was packed for the big game, and anticipation was running high. Nancy, Bess, and George had gotten front-row bleacher seats just behind the cheerleaders' bench. Cynthia was looking up at them, her eyebrows drawn together and her mouth open slightly.

“Well, I can't say for sure yet,” Nancy went on. Looking down on the field, Nancy saw Rob practicing tosses. “Oh, and Cynthia,” she went on, “there's something else—it's about Rob—”

The referee's whistle blew, signaling the teams to enter. A roar went up from the excited crowd.

“It can wait till later,” Nancy said. “You'd better start cheering. The team needs you.”

“Right. See you later, Nancy. And thanks for all the good work.” Cynthia went off to join the other cheerleaders on the fifty-yard line as the players were introduced one by one. When Bill Ellman's name was called, Nancy noticed a puffy white bandage around his finger. “Hey, Bess, what happened to Bill?”

“Oh, didn't I tell you?” Bess said. “He broke his ring finger at practice yesterday.”

“He broke a finger?” Nancy said, amazed.

“Yeah, but he won't let it stop him from playing,” Bess added.

“That's incredible,” Nancy murmured, wondering if her friend was finally starting to tire of going out with a guy so obsessed with football. “How can he play with a broken finger?”

“Beats me,” Bess confessed. “You know, I'm beginning to wonder about Bill. He's so completely wrapped up in himself and the team. All I did was ask him if his finger hurt, and he told me it was none of my business.”

“Bess,” George said with a shake of her head, “maybe it's time to dump this guy.”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Bess mumbled.

George and Nancy exchanged a knowing look over Bess's head, but they didn't say anything more about Bill.

“Here comes the kickoff!” shouted Bess as the players lined up on the field.

The whistle blew, and the Bedford kicker booted the ball downfield. The Montvale man caught it but was wiped out by Lonnie Price before he could run a yard.

“Boy,” said George with a little whistle, “that was some hit.”

The game got rougher. On the next play a Montvale player had to be helped off the field, limping badly. After that, Lonnie delivered a late hit to Montvale's quarterback, sending him to the sidelines, too. By the end of the first quarter, the officials were blowing penalty whistles almost every other play. Even though five of the Montvale players had been sidelined, the team had scored two touchdowns because of all the calls against Bedford.

Down at field level, near the team's bench, Nancy spotted Pete, standing up and screaming, “Go get 'em!” Whenever a Bedford player came off the field, Pete would go over and pat him on the back. Bill and Lonnie gave him high fives, but
most of the other Bedford Bears either ignored him or pushed him aside.

“How can he enjoy this?” George wondered, observing Pete. “It's just the kind of thing that gives contact sports a bad name.”

“He's that kind of guy,” Nancy said with a disgusted shrug.

Down on the field a Montvale player took a shot in the head from Bill Ellman and ran off, clutching at his nose.

“This is horrible!” Bess cried, turning away in shock. “Can't the officials do something?”

“They're doing all they can, Bess,” George answered. “Bedford is racking up penalties like crazy. They just had a touchdown called back, remember?”

In the end, though, Bedford came out on top. They'd defeated Montvale by a score of seventeen to ten. The jubilant team marched around the field, their faces ghostly from the unnatural glare of the stadium lights, with their coach on their shoulders. A core of their most ardent fans crushed in on them from all sides.

Nancy turned to George and Bess. “Some game, huh?”

Bess seemed a little stunned. “I guess that's what they call ‘winning ugly,' ” she said ruefully.

“Check it out,” George said, pointing to the field, where a Montvale player tried to shake
Lonnie Price's hand, Lonnie gave him a shove instead. The rejected ballplayer shook his head in disbelief.

“I wonder what the college scouts will think of that,” Nancy mused as the three girls walked down the two steps to field level. Cynthia was waiting for them, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Oh, Nancy,” she said, her breath turning to puffs of white vapor in the cold November evening. “I'm so ashamed. They acted like brutes!”

“Hey, cheer up, Cyn,” said one of the other cheerleaders, trotting by and giving Cynthia a pat on the back. “We're one game away from being state champions! Watch out, Carlisle, here comes Bedford!” The happy cheerleader ran off to join the crowd circling the players.

“Even Rob,” Cynthia moaned. “That wasn't football, it was— I don't know what it was.”

“Cynthia,” said Nancy, putting an arm around her. “I need to talk to you privately.”

George and Bess had to leave to get ready for the party, so they said goodbye. Nancy led Cynthia off a short distance to where they couldn't be overheard. “Cynthia,” Nancy asked gently, “Rob doesn't drink, does he?”

“Rob?” Cynthia's eyes grew huge. “No way. He's too involved in training to mess up like that.”

“Are you sure?” Nancy asked.

“Positive!” was Cynthia's reply. “What made you even think that?”

Nancy hesitated and decided not to tell her what she'd learned at the clinic. The girl was upset enough already.

“Nancy, I'm scared. The way the guys are acting, all these other strange things that are happening—I don't know what's going on.”

“Don't worry, Cynthia,” Nancy said with an assurance she didn't really feel. “We'll get it all figured out.”

• • •

Bess's house shook with the sound of a hundred or so Bedford High kids dancing, talking, and whooping it up. Everyone seemed to have forgotten or forgiven the disgraceful way the team had played in the flush of victory.

“Bess really knows how to throw a party!” Nancy shouted to George, who walked over to greet her friend.

“Isn't this fun!” Bess called out merrily, bouncing up to them.

Coming from behind her, Bill Ellman slipped an arm around her waist. “Hey, where are you escaping to, Bess? How about a dance?”

“Okay,” Bess said, taking his hand and walking over to the dancing area.

As they walked off, Nancy could swear Bill had turned and given her a look of sheer hatred. What was wrong with him? Nancy wondered, startled.

“He certainly seems happy,” George remarked. Obviously, George hadn't caught Bill's poisonous look at Nancy.

“We're number one!” Lonnie Price shouted as he entered the party, his clenched fist aimed at the ceiling. A huge cheer erupted from the guests. “Hey, beautiful!” Spotting George, he put his arms around her and gave her a huge hug.

George resisted feebly and finally pulled herself from his grasp. “Well, hello to you, too,” she joked.

“Let's dance, George!” Lonnie shouted, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her off.

Nancy spied Rob and Cynthia in a corner of the dining room. Rob was pale, and Cynthia was frowning.

Walking up to them with a smile, Nancy said, “Hi, guys. How come you're not dancing?”

“Don't feel like it,” Rob mumbled in an unfriendly tone. Cynthia looked over at Nancy and shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

“Rob's been feeling dizzy,” she explained anxiously.

Rob stared hard at his girlfriend. “I said, don't tell anybody,” he fumed.

“But Nancy's my friend, Rob—” Cynthia protested softly.

“I said, don't tell
anybody,
” Rob reiterated, his
voice filled with frustration. “What are you, dense?”

“You don't have to get nasty about it,” Cynthia said, shrinking back against the wall. “Sorry, Nancy.”

“Listen, I'll see you guys later, okay?” Nancy said, backing off. What's eating him tonight? she thought to herself as she turned away.

Nancy watched Lonnie and George on the dance floor for a while, then circulated, chatting with the other guests and sampling the great food Bess and George had whipped up.

About an hour into the party Nancy noticed Rob moving furtively toward the kitchen. He was up to something, Nancy decided. But what?

She followed him. Off the kitchen was a pantry with stairs that led to the basement. Poking her head inside, Nancy noticed the door to the basement was half-open. She heard guys talking on the steps.

Standing at the basement door, Nancy pressed her ear to the wooden barrier and listened to the muffled conversation.

“Are you sure?” It was Rob's voice, and it wasn't hard for Nancy to make out who the other two guys were—Lonnie Price and Bill Ellman.

“Definitely,” Lonnie replied. “Hogan said he knew her when she was working on that Jake
Webb case. You know, that guy Darryl who was spying for the Russians.”

Fear shot through Nancy. Her cover was blown.

“Maybe she doesn't know anything,” Bill suggested anxiously. “She's really friends with Bess and George, you know.”

“Don't be an idiot, Ellman,” Lonnie snapped. “She's onto us, all right.”

“Look, you guys,” Rob said, sounding scared. “Maybe we should just cool it, huh?”

“What's gotten into you lately, Matthews?” Lonnie demanded. “We've got one more game. You can't back out now.”

“But the doctor said—”

“Forget the doctor, Matthews!” Lonnie demanded. “Do you know how many scouts are coming to see us next week? You know what they can do for you? A scholarship at a major university. Maybe a future shot at the NFL.”

“But—”

“Rob,” Lonnie went on, his voice more soothing, “my doctor said the same thing. But it's going to have to wait one more week.”

Nancy remained rooted to the spot and held her breath, hoping they'd reveal their secret.

“What about Nancy Drew, guys?” Bill Ellman asked nervously. “What if she already knows?”

“We'll have to shut her up, that's all,” snarled Lonnie.

“What does that mean? How are you going to shut her up?” Rob asked, fear sounding in his voice.

Nancy's spine stiffened as she heard Lonnie's menacing retort. “Never mind,” he snarled. “You just let me handle Nancy Drew myself.”