032 High Marks for Malice (9 page)

“Then why are they blank?” Cass asked.

“Maybe the person wanted to hide a command, especially if he doesn’t want anyone to know how the program works or what it’s designed to do. These two commands are hidden. Even when you type in the right words on lines seven, twenty-five, and thirty, the words won’t show up on the screen.”

“Sure,” Nancy said. “Anybody could be watching and see them.”

Marty smiled at her. “Exactly. So these commands remain invisible, even if you print out all the rest of the program’s commands on paper. Invisible or not, the program knows it’s been told to do its job—whatever that is—and it does it.”

Reading over Marty’s shoulder, Ned said, “I think I’m beginning to understand. If you typed in the wrong thing, the program would stop right there. It wouldn’t even print out the two line numbers. So Doc must have found the key.”

“And was killed for it,” Nancy said.

“Could this be one of the commands?” Ned pointed to the paper he’d found in the taffy.

“Might be, but we need the second. One without the other won’t work,” Marty explained.

“So now what?” Cass demanded. She sat on the edge of her chair, nervously rolling a piece of paper into a tube.

“What’s that?” Nancy asked her.

She shrugged. “Just an invitation to a reception. It was in the folds of one of the printouts I picked up outside.”

“May I see it?” Nancy asked. Cass gave it to her. “ ‘Appreciation Night,’ ” Nancy read aloud. “ ‘Friday, November 25, Penn Pride Hotel, Philadelphia.’ ” She tapped the paper in thought. “Marty, didn’t you say Doc went to Philly for Thanksgiving?”

“Yes. That must have been Doc’s. He mentioned going to a fancy dinner with his sister.”

Nancy and Ned scanned the invitation. “ ‘To extend appreciation to those special few who’ve made extraordinary contributions to the community,’ ” Nancy read. There were notes in red in the margins. “Marty, is this Doc’s writing?” she asked.

Pain streaked across his features. “That’s his, all right. The worst handwriting on campus.”

“There’s a big asterisk beside the name of one of the men who received an award,” Nancy noted. “Andrew Bladinsburg. Can you make out the other things Doc wrote?”

Marty held the invitation at arm’s length and read it with his eyes almost closed. “That’s a number, a seventy with a big question mark behind it. I can’t make out the rest.”

Nancy flipped to the short biography of Bladinsburg on the back. “Hey, he was a graduate of Basson!”

“Maybe the number is the year he graduated,” Marty suggested.

“But why did Doc keep this?” Nancy asked, her excitement rising. “And why stick it in the computer printouts which were so important to him, unless this was important, too? I think we’re on to something here.”

Marty looked at his watch. “I hate to break this up, guys, but I have to go. I’ve got to pick up some software from a professor,” he said. “What about these printouts? Do you want me to keep them and try to figure them out?”

Nancy hesitated, uncomfortable at the thought of letting them out of her hands. “I’d rather have copies made for you.”

Marty’s expression said clearly that he understood. “Fine. I’ll be on campus all day tomorrow. Look for me in the comp sei complex.”

Ned, Cass, and Nancy left, the printouts and invitation tucked safely in an old briefcase Marty lent them. Nancy smuggled the briefcase into the dorm under her coat. Considering how interested the thug in black had been to get his hands on it,
she decided she would sleep with it under her pillow.

• • •

A brainstorming session over breakfast the next morning moved Maria into first place as their prime suspect.

She was a computer science major with, Cass informed them, a straight-A average. She had been known to repair a computer, so she knew her way around its internal works. And she’d told Ned she knew several different programming languages.

But several nagging questions remained for Nancy. “Why would Maria become involved in the murder of a favorite professor? For money?”

“She admitted she needed it,” Ned said. “That’s why she gave up her Christmas vacation—to earn overtime pay.”

“But there would have to be a lot more money involved than whatever she makes working in the computer lab,” Nancy mused. “Money for doing what? We’ll never know until we figure out what this mysterious computer program does.”

“Which means we’d better get to work,” Ned said. “We have a long way to go.”

• • •

After a stop at the hospital to check on Line—there was no significant change in his condition—Cass left in Line’s car to interview someone for her independent study paper. Ned, armed
with directions to the nearest public library and a pocket full of quarters, took the printouts to make copies for Marty.

Nancy, her tote bag packed with a change of clothes for her afternoon as Cass’s stand-in, went in search of the alumni office. If Andrew Bladinsburg had deserved an asterisk from Doc on that awards program, it might pay to know more about him.

Nancy was hoping to get a look at Basson’s alumni directory. To her disappointment, the alumni office was closed for the holidays. A secretary passing by suggested she try the college library. She got directions and headed toward the library.

It looked as if it was one of the oldest buildings on campus. A parade of columns stood like sentries along a patio that wrapped around the building. Oddly enough, the front doors were locked.

“Hey, gorgeous!” A boy near the fountain waved to Nancy. “You have to use the side entrance,” he called.

She waved a thank-you and walked across the front patio. As she passed the column at the corner and rounded the end of the building, she was suddenly yanked backward. She struggled as a strong hand was clamped over her face.

The hand was not empty. Instantly the smell of chloroform invaded Nancy’s mouth and nose.
She knew if she didn’t break her attacker’s grasp, she’d be unconscious in seconds!

She elbowed her attacker, but her head had already begun to spin. Slowly her surroundings faded as the chloroform took effect. Darkness descended. Nancy slumped, lifeless, in her captor’s grasp.

N
ANCY GROANED
, opened her eyes, and closed them again. She was sitting, her back against the column at the corner of the library. Her head spinning, she remained where she was, breathing deeply, trying to remember what had happened.

The last faint odor of the chloroform brought it all back. She’d been attacked—again. But why? The only things she’d been carrying were her tote bag containing Cass’s leotard, tights, and the program from the awards banquet in Philadelphia.

“Oh, no,” Nancy moaned and concentrated on shaking off the effects of the anesthesia. She wondered how long she’d been out. Groggily, she
checked her watch. The numbers swam in front of her eyes.

After several minutes she rose. Holding on to the column for support, she waited for her head to clear. When she finally felt better, she started for the side door, still a little unsteady on her feet.

Then she saw a patch of deep purple dangling from the spiky leaves of a bush at the far corner of the library. Cass’s leotard!

Moving carefully, she retrieved it and crammed it into her pocket. She glanced around to the patio on the back. There was the towel Cass had lent her. Of course! Her assailant had opened the tote, tossing its contents in a frantic search for the printouts he—or she—hoped were there. Nothing else would be worth such a stunt in broad daylight.

The thief had left a trail that led into the woods. A few feet farther on, she saw the tights. And down at the very end, tucked between the patio and the shrubbery, Nancy found the tote bag. Her makeup kit, comb, and brush were still in it.

So was the awards program. Nancy leaned against a column in relief. She had tucked the program into a Basson College catalog she had picked up in Cass’s room. Either the thief hadn’t seen it, or he hadn’t realized its significance. Stuffing everything back into the tote, she went to finish her mission for the morning.

The library was quiet as a tomb. Nancy went to the information desk. “Where are the alumni directories?” she asked the receptionist.

The receptionist directed her to the back of the stacks.

The most recent directory had been published two years earlier. Nancy opened it to the
Bs.
No Andrew Bladinsburg. A check of earlier directories, published every two years, revealed no Bladinsburg, either. Why had this man been left out?

Nancy pulled all the yearbooks from 1970 to 1980. He wasn’t in any of them. Frustrated, she put them back on the shelves. Oh, well. Ned was checking the public library for information. Maybe he’d have more luck.

She decided to check out Doc since she was there. The yearbooks featured sections on the faculty and underclassmen, as well as graduates. Retrieving the one for the previous year, she flipped through it.

She saw several pictures of Line, most taken in classroom settings, a few in the computer lab. Maria Arnold’s wide eyes stared back at Nancy from a couple of them. Then she turned to the faculty section of the Department of Computer Sciences. “Here he is,” Nancy said, under her breath. “Paul R. Evans, Ph.D. Doc.”

Nancy examined the picture with a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and sadness. A boyish face,
with skin the color of honey; dark eyes, sparkling with humor, his lips stretched in an amused smile.

Doc had graduated from Basson in 1970 and had returned to teach three years later with his Ph.D. He looked like such a nice—

Nancy heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw the tall, silver-haired man from the hospital. Nancy’s mind whirled as she tried to remember his name. The college registrar. Chaplin? No, Chapin.

“Good morning, Dr. Chapin,” she said.

“Mister,” he said with a smile. “Good morning. Looking into Basson, are you? It’s an excellent university, one of the best in the nation.”

“So I understand. A friend of a friend graduated last year,” Nancy said, feeling that she should provide a cover for her activities. “I was trying to find her picture.”

“What was her name?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t remember. I only met her once, but I’d recognize her face if I saw it.” Casually, she turned the page, then another. Doc’s image was gone. “She was really sold on Basson, I remember that. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to visit.”

“I would recommend it highly, and not just because I’m the registrar. We have a wide choice of academic majors, state-of-the-art equipment, and a faculty composed of the finest minds in the
country.” Abruptly he changed the subject. “I hear young Sheffield’s hanging on. I am very relieved, especially since we haven’t been able to reach his father. Are you and he good friends?”

“I’d never met him,” Nancy said. “Still haven’t, to tell the truth. Just happened to be passing the carillon and heard him moan.”

Chapin nodded gravely. “A very lucky young man. And a foolish one, too. But they will try to climb the tower, no matter what we say.” He lifted his right arm and glanced at his watch. “I must go. Nice seeing you again.”

“Thank you.”

“If you have any questions about the school, come by my office. I’m always available for young people interested in my university.”

“Thank you. That’s good to know. Goodbye.” Nancy watched him leave, wondering if he was always so stiff. Perhaps being a registrar was a stressful position.

It was Nancy’s turn to check her watch. Except for a mild headache, she felt almost normal. There was just enough time to find a restroom and splash some water on her face. Then she had to report for work.

• • •

“Work, huh?” Nancy said to herself after she’d been on duty an hour. “This is almost fun.”

That is, after she’d proved to Mr. Pickering that she could handle the equipment. Dressed in
a sweatshirt, shorts, and running shoes, he had made the rounds of all the weight machines with her, becoming more cheerful as they moved from one to another. Nancy spotted him, making sure he used his body and the weights properly.

As prearranged, she hurried downstairs to the dining room at her break time to meet Ned. She covered her annoyance when she found him at a corner table with Maria practically draped all over him. The petite brunette girl couldn’t have gotten any closer.

She peeled herself off him as Nancy approached. “Hi, how’s it going upstairs?” she asked, with a smile that wouldn’t have fooled a baby. She was not happy at the intrusion.

“Fine. It’s fun.”

“Can I get you something?” Ned asked, a plea for understanding in his eyes.

“Something cold would be great—how about an iced tea?”

Ned hurried away, as if eager to please. Nancy almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“I was just telling Ned, it’s such a lucky thing you two showing up just in time to find Line,” Maria said, folding and refolding her napkin. “And when Cass needed a sub.”

“It was lucky, wasn’t it?” Nancy wondered what Maria was up to.

“I mean, after all, you come to tour the university and wind up working here. That is why y’all
came, isn’t it?” Propping a small chin on her fist, she tried to look casual. “Are you thinking of applying?”