The Cheating Heart (9 page)

“Of course I don't want you to get expelled,” she finally said. “But the dean warned me that I can't give you special treatment. What would it look like if I accused Carrie and then found out she wasn't the thief? I'd rather she confessed to me before I go back to the dean.”

“Well, I guess you don't care that my college career is on the line here,” Ned said.

Nancy was taken aback. “That's not true, Ned! That isn't true at all! And I
am
working on the case. But it's very—baffling.”

“Too baffling for the great Nancy Drew?” Ned asked skeptically, striding ahead.

“No!” she defended herself, walking fast to keep pace. “But all I have is a piece of paper with some letters written on it. I can't prove
when
Carrie wrote them down, or why. And I can't prove that she stole that answer key. She had no more access to it than—”

“Than I did?” Ned snapped back, stopping abruptly. He whirled around, and Nancy could see the cold fire in his dark eyes. “So that's it. You
do
think I'm guilty.”

Nancy's mouth dropped open. “What? I've never believed you were guilty, not for a second. But that won't convince Professor Tavakolian—or the dean, apparently. So I've got to catch the
real
thief, to get you off the hook.”

“Then you'd better do it pretty fast,” Ned said hotly. “I can't get expelled—I love Emerson! I love the basketball team, I love my frat, I love my classes and my friends. I can't believe I'd have to leave, just because I made photocopies for a professor I don't even know!”

Nancy's throat tightened in sympathy. “Please, Ned,” she said urgently. “If I'm going to clear your name, I have to do it the right way—not the easy way.”

Ned and Nancy locked gazes for a long moment. Then Ned ducked his head and muttered, “Sorry. I guess the pressure is getting to me. Come on, let me walk you back to your house.”

At the door of the Theta Pi house, Ned took Nancy in his arms and gave her the kind of hug that made her think that everything was all right. Relieved, she lifted her face to his for a kiss. As they clung together for several minutes, their kiss went well beyond making up. Nancy felt limp in his strong grasp, powerless to do anything other than continue the long embrace. When they finally let each other go, it was slowly, reluctantly.

Her head still spinning, Nancy went inside, hurrying past the girls chatting in the living room. As she passed the small desk in the front hall, the girl sitting there, Mindy Kwong, looked up with a smile. “Hi, Nancy,” she said brightly. “Oh, I think there's a message for you.” She hunted on the cluttered desktop.

“From Professor Tavakolian?” Nancy asked.

“I don't know—someone just dropped this through the front door mail slot,” Mindy explained, holding up a plain white envelope.

Nancy took it and held it close to the desk light, curious to know why it was unmarked. She turned it over and broke open the sealed flap. Inside was a sheet of plain white paper. She unfolded it, discovering a typed note:

Dear Detective, If I were you, I'd check on Paul DiToma. He's the guy who stole that test.

N
ANCY REREAD
the note in disbelief. Had Paul DiToma stolen the answer key and sold it to Carrie Yu—and maybe to other students as well?

Nancy forced a smile. “Thanks, Mindy. Good night!” She skipped lightly up the front stairs. Mindy was known to be a gossip, and right now Nancy didn't want to supply her with any material.

Alone in the second floor hallway, Nancy studied the mysterious message again. As she thought through the facts, she realized Paul really could have stolen the sheet. He was an English major, so he'd know his way around the English faculty offices. Paul wouldn't have needed to steal the answers for himself, but as Professor Tavakolian had said, other students would pay to get the answers—and Paul was in need of money.

But how did this connect to the mysterious phone calls he'd received, and the ad in the
Emersonian:
“Paul DiToma—I'm waiting for you”?

Could Paul's friendship with Ned somehow be a factor in all this? Nancy felt slightly sick to her stomach at this thought. Ned was very touchy about being a suspect—the last thing she wanted was a reason to doubt him.

One thing was for sure—she'd better get to sleep before Brook came back. How could Nancy talk to Brook, knowing that Paul was under suspicion?

• • •

“Oh, Nancy, I can't believe this is all happening,” Brook said. She sat up in bed the next morning, hugging her knees to her chest.

Nancy moved around the room, getting dressed. “So you had a good time last night?” she asked, trying to sound noncommittal.

Brook stretched lazily. “We were out until midnight—
it's
the first time I've ever had to use my night key to get in after lockup time!” She giggled. “We just went to the Night Owl diner. But we got talking about everything in the world—our families, classes we're taking, books we've read, places we want to travel to—just everything!”

Nancy buttoned her jeans and pulled her burgundy-colored cotton sweater out of her duffel
bag. “So you two really have a lot in common?”

“Oh, it's more than that,” Brook said, gushing. “I feel as though I've known him all my life. I can't believe that we only met on Thursday.”

As Nancy stepped to the mirror to brush her hair, she felt an ache in her throat. She was glad Brook was happy, but it only made her feel bad that the reason for Brook's happiness was now one of her suspects.

Brook leaned over to check her bedside alarm clock. “Paul and I were going to meet for brunch—do you and Ned want to join us?” she asked.

Nancy slung her purse over her shoulder. “No, thanks—maybe we can double for dinner. Why don't you ask Paul to make plans with Ned?” With a quick wave, Nancy was out the door.

Nancy went downstairs to the phone to call Ned. “I have to track down Carrie Yu this morning,” she explained to him. “I'd better do it alone because I need to get her to open up to me.”

“Stop by the house when you're done—I'll be waiting to hear what happened,” Ned said anxiously. “I'll shoot baskets with Jerry and Rich till you get here. And, Nan—good luck.”

“Thanks, Ned,” Nancy replied warmly. She hung up and dialed Carrie Yu's number. This time Carrie's roommate answered. She told Nancy that Carrie was taking an orientation tour of the chemistry labs.

Nancy walked across campus to the science labs. The glass front doors were open, and Nancy walked down the empty, echoing corridors. She spotted a few older students in various laboratories—working on long-term projects, she imagined. Otherwise the building was quiet.

Nancy soon found the tour group in progress. A lab director was demonstrating how to use a bank of computer terminals. Nancy spotted Carrie among the students.

Ten minutes later, when the tour was over, Nancy fell into step beside Carrie. “Remember me from Friday?” Nancy asked.

Carrie nodded warily. “You're the English professor's assistant.”

Nancy drew a breath. “I'm working for Dean Jarvis as well. We're looking into a possible cheating ring on the literature test.”

Carrie stopped still, but she said nothing.

“Look,” Nancy went on. “I found this stuck to your shoe.” She held up the yellow memo slip, hoping Carrie wouldn't ask how she'd found it.

Carrie stared at the paper, visibly upset.

“These letters match a series of answers on the test,” Nancy said. “Did you have these answers stuck on your shoe when you took the test?”

Carrie blinked. “I took them into the auditorium with me,” she confessed in a tight voice. “But I didn't use them!”

Hooray! Nancy was thinking—I have my thief.
“How did you get the answer sheet out of the professor's office?” she asked Carrie.

“What office?” Carrie frowned. “A guy stopped me outside the English department office, just after I signed up for the exam. He offered to sell me the test for fifty dollars.”

Nancy frowned. “You bought the test?”

“Yes,” Carrie said, her eyes cast down in guilt. “Then I took the test to the library and looked up the answers to the questions. I wrote down the letters on three yellow slips—but like I said, I didn't use them!” She looked up pleadingly.

“You got a perfect score,” Nancy noted.

“Well,” Carrie admitted, “after looking up all that stuff in the library, I—I remembered the right answers without looking.”

Nancy reflected for a moment. It was the answer key that had been stolen from Tavakolian's office, not the complete test. Was there another cheating ring at work? Carrie had said a guy sold her the test—that could have been Steve Groff, Gary Carlsen, Tom Mallin, Paul, or even . . . Ned.

“Who sold you the test?” Nancy asked, continuing to grill.

Carrie shrugged. “I don't know his name. He was tall, like an athlete—”

“Dark hair?” Nancy asked, not really wanting an answer.

“Oh, no.” Carrie shook her head. “His hair was white blond.”

The image clicked in Nancy's mind—Steve Groff.

Fifteen minutes later Ned came charging into the living room of the Omega Chi house, where Nancy was waiting for him. Dressed in baggy sweats, with a basketball under his arm, he was gorgeous, she thought.

Nancy jumped up and flung an arm around Ned's neck, planting an excited kiss on his cheek. “I've got a hot break in the case,” she whispered. “Where can we go to talk?”

Ned led her into the empty study lounge, where she quickly recounted her interview with Carrie. “Steve Groff?” Ned whistled. “The same guy who argued with Paul at the party yesterday?”

“It may not just be a coincidence,” Nancy said guardedly. Then she showed Ned the note she'd received the night before, accusing Paul of the theft.

“You don't think they're in this together, do you?” Ned asked, aghast.

“I don't know what to think,” Nancy admitted.

Ned shook his head. “I can't believe Paul is involved. But you have to talk to Steve Groff.”

“I just called his dorm room—he wasn't in,” Nancy said.

“You know where he is, most likely,” Ned said.

Nancy nodded. “The pool's my next stop.”

“Can I come along?” Ned asked. “Steve seems
to be a hothead—you could probably use some backup.”

“Sure—thanks.”

There were several swimmers doing laps in the big pool when Nancy and Ned arrived. It took them a few minutes to pick out Steve. Watching him churn up and down the pool, Nancy was impressed with his strength and endurance.

As Steve finally emerged, dripping wet, from the pool, Nancy and Ned hurried along the wet tile floor to cut him off. Steve first rubbed his head with a towel, then looked up to see Nancy. He sneered. “I've got nothing more to say to you.” When he noticed Ned standing behind her, he hesitated.

“Steve,” Nancy said patiently, hoping to keep the encounter calm. “I just talked to Carrie Yu—she said that you sold her a copy of the test.”

Steve began to flush. “She bought it!” He protested. “She's as much to blame as I am.”

For the moment Nancy let that pass. “We just want to know how you got the copy,” she said.

Peering quickly over his shoulder, Steve muttered, “I—I just found it.”

“Found it?” Ned repeated in dismay.

“You've got to believe me!” Steve burst out. “I was outside the English department, and I happened to look in a big trash basket in the hall. There it was right at the top. ‘Freshman Literature
Placement Test.' It was too good an opportunity to pass up! And then that girl walked by and I decided to make a buck. I told her I had the test and asked how much was it worth to her. I made her a photocopy of it for fifty dollars.”

“And you don't have any idea how the test got in that trash bin?” Ned asked.

Steve shook his head. “That test could have been stolen by anyone—even Paul DiToma.”

Nancy's head jerked back. “Why do you mention Paul DiToma?” she asked quickly.

Steve gave her a sly look. “I ran into him in the department office, just before I found the test copy in the trash.”

Nancy recalled Paul saying he'd spoken with Steve in the department office that Monday. Her eyes narrowed. “Did you write me that note about Paul being the thief?”

Steve was too surprised by her deduction to try to lie. “Yeah, I wrote it,” he said. “I don't like that guy—so I made that up. But I should have known you wouldn't believe it. He's your buddy. I saw you all together in the student center yesterday.”

“That's true,” Nancy said. “Was it you who wrote on his leather jacket?”