Choosing Sides (3 page)

Caroline frowned and shook her head.

“I can think of someone,” Hector put in quietly. “Patrick Gleason.”

“That's a serious charge, Hector, one that I'm not willing to make yet,” Caroline said.

Neither am I, Nancy thought. Especially with Ned working on his campaign. She looked at Hector. “Do you have any reason to suspect Gleason, other than the fact that he's the opponent?”

“An opponent who has a losing campaign,” Hector said forcefully.

Just then the phone rang, and Hector picked it up. “It's Channel Nine, WRVH,” he whispered to Caroline, covering the mouthpiece. “They want to interview you about the article. I'll talk to them in the other room.”

Caroline nodded grimly. She rubbed her temples as her campaign manager left the office. Obviously, the article had upset her.

“Tell me about Bobby Rouse,” Nancy said.

Caroline leaned back in her chair. “He's been arrested several times for stealing cars and robbing stores. From what I remember, he usually works for other people, not on his own.”

“So maybe someone else put him up to posing for this picture,” Nancy said. “But who?”

“I haven't thought about Bobby Rouse since the trial two years ago,” she said wearily. “I'll dig up his files and see if I find any names.”

Bess leaned forward in her chair and asked, “Maybe Nancy and I could try talking to him to see what we can find out, too. Do you have any idea where we could find him?”

“We might have an address in his files, but that information is two years old. Maybe you should try the police,” Caroline replied. “Rouse has a long record, so they might have more recent information.”

“I'll give Chief McGinnis a call,” Nancy said. “But first, Bess and I are going to visit Brenda to get her to print a retraction. Hopefully, we'll be able to get some info about her source, too. If I
know her, she'll be dying to talk about her big scoop.”

• • •

Ten minutes later Bess and Nancy were on their way to the
Today's Times
office in Nancy's blue Mustang. Bess was staring at a copy of the article that Nancy had taken from Caroline's campaign headquarters. “I mean, I know it's a fake, but how did the person who made it get it to look so convincing?”

“Bobby Rouse must have posed for a picture where he was accepting money from
another
woman,” Nancy said. “Then someone took an old photo of Caroline and cut out just her head, pasting it over the other woman's body in the photo. That way, it would look as if
Caroline
were the person handing the money to Rouse.”

“But wouldn't that look obviously fake?” Bess asked, giving Nancy a dubious glance.

Nancy nodded as she turned her Mustang left onto the main drag of downtown River Heights. “Yes. But if someone took a new photograph of the pieced-together picture, they could easily touch up the negative to make it look natural. That way the person could make another, almost perfect-looking print with the new negative.”

“Wow.” Bess shook her head in amazement. “It sounds as if someone went to a lot of trouble to frame Caroline.”

“That's for sure. I just hope we can find out who.”

“But how can you be sure Rouse actually
posed
for the photo?” Bess asked. “I mean, he has a record. Isn't it possible someone got hold of an old photograph of him accepting a bribe, then put Caroline's head on the woman's body? Maybe Rouse himself had nothing to do with this picture.”

“I thought about that, too,” Nancy said. “But it looks set up. It's been taken right out in the open, and the woman has her arm stretched out so that no one could miss the fact that she's giving him a wad of bills. I'm positive the photo was staged.”

Nancy pulled into the
Today's Times
parking lot and found a spot. Then she and Bess headed into the brick building and took the elevator up to the newsroom. Reporters sat at their desks, clicking away on their computers and talking on phones. Brenda was at her desk near the far end of the room.

“Check it out, Nan,” Bess said in a low voice. “It looks as if Brenda has adopted the Serious Journalist look.”

Brenda's long, dark hair was pulled back in a neat bun, Nancy saw. She wore a tailored wool suit with a crisp white blouse instead of her usual, more feminine clothes. Brenda was talking on the phone, but when she saw Nancy and Bess, she motioned for them to sit down in the two chairs by her desk.

“This scoop is already opening doors for me,” Brenda said into the phone. “You won't believe who I'm interviewing on Friday: Mayor Filanowski! I'm the only one who's managed to get an interview with him. He was genuinely impressed by my story.” Brenda paused. “Well, he
did
set conditions. He still won't discuss the election or the candidates, but I'm sure I can get him to.”

“That's Brenda,” Bess whispered in Nancy's ear. “Humble as always.”

Brenda hung up the phone and gave her visitors a smug smile. “I'm glad you stopped by,” she said. “Being congratulated by Nancy Drew, ace detective, means a lot to me.”

“Actually, Brenda,” Nancy said, ignoring the reporter's arch tone, “Bess and I are here to ask you to print a retraction to your story. I'm sure you didn't—”

“A what!” Brenda shrieked.

Glancing at Brenda's desk, Nancy saw a copy of the article about Caroline Hill. “That photo is a fake,” she said, pointing to it. “Caroline Hill has worn a medical ID bracelet constantly for years, but the woman in this photo doesn't have one. That woman isn't Caroline Hill at all—the photo's just been doctored to make it look as if she is.”

“You're making that up.” Brenda sniffed. “You're jealous because for once
I
beat
you
to
uncovering a big crime. Besides, I have the original photograph right here to prove you're wrong.”

Brenda shuffled through the papers on her desk and handed Nancy a manila envelope. Nancy slid out an eight-by-ten black and white photograph.

“Brenda, this doesn't prove anything,” she argued. “Did you meet the person who gave you this photo and told you about the fencing ring?”

“What do you think? Of course I met him!” Brenda replied indignantly. She glanced warily at Nancy and Bess. “Don't even bother trying to find out who it is. You should both know that as a journalist I'm protected by the First Amendment. I'll never reveal my sources.”

Nancy tried not to let her frustration show. “But, Brenda, the story is a lie. The person who gave you this information was breaking the law.”

“Which means you're protecting a criminal, not the truth,” Bess added forcefully.

Brenda still didn't look convinced. “How do you two know that Caroline Hill wore that bracelet constantly?” she shot back. “For all you know,
she's
lying!”

Nancy could see that Brenda wasn't going to be helpful. She was just about to slide the photograph back into its envelope when she noticed something on the reverse side. It looked as if something had been written down, then erased.

Squinting at the slight indentations, Nancy
tried to make out the words. The first word was “Contact.” And beneath it two telephone numbers were listed. Nancy quickly memorized the numbers, then replaced the photograph in the envelope and handed it back to Brenda.

“Well, I guess I misjudged you,” Nancy said, getting up. She wanted to leave before she forgot those numbers! “Come on, Bess, let's go.”

Bess looked startled, but she stood and followed Nancy from the newsroom. “Why did you let her get away with that?” she whispered as soon as they were out of Brenda's earshot.

Nancy was muttering the numbers to herself. Just outside the newsroom, she stopped abruptly to write them down in the small notebook she carried in her shoulder bag. “I didn't, Bess, not exactly. I still think we should tell Mr. Carlton about the doctored photo. Even if you and I can't get Brenda to print a retraction, her own father can.”

She pointed to the numbers she'd just written down. “But first, I have to call these phone numbers. Brenda wrote them on the back of the photo, and I'm pretty sure they're the numbers for the person who gave her the photo and the story.”

In the lobby they found a pay phone. After digging in her bag for change, Nancy dialed the first number. There was no answer.

“Try the other number,” Bess encouraged. She bit her lip expectantly as Nancy fished her quarter
from the change slot, fed it in again, and dialed.

The phone rang several times. Nancy was about to hang up, when someone answered.

“Hello,” a cheerful man's voice answered. “Patrick Gleason's campaign headquarters. How may I help you?”

N
ANCY OPENED HER MOUTH,
but no words came out. She slammed the phone down, stunned.

“Nancy, what is it?” Bess asked.

“That second number is for Patrick Gleason's headquarters!” Nancy said.

Bess's eyes widened. “Do you think
Gleason
is the one who's trying to frame Caroline?” she asked. “Patrick Gleason may not be the best choice for mayor, but I never heard my dad say anything about him being sleazy enough to do something like
this.”

“From what Ned says, he's a really honest guy,” Nancy agreed. “But if he's desperate enough to win the election . . .” Her voice trailed off. Then she said, “Or maybe someone who's working on Gleason's campaign gave Brenda the
scoop. It's possible that Gleason doesn't know anything about it. Anyway,” she continued, “at least we have a lead. Ned said he was going to be working on Gleason's campaign today. After we talk to Brenda's father, I'm going to go over to Gleason's headquarters and see what I can find out.”

“What should I do?” Bess asked.

Nancy thought for a moment. “Maybe you should go back to Caroline's office and tell her and Hector about this lead. I'll drop you off and meet you back there when I'm finished.”

“Sure,” Bess agreed. Her blue eyes sparkled as she added, “Besides, Kyle said he was going to be around this afternoon.”

• • •

Half an hour later, Nancy pulled her Mustang to a halt in front of the downtown storefront where Patrick Gleason had his campaign office. She got out of her car and peered through the huge plate-glass windows plastered with Gleason posters.

The place seemed just as chaotic as Caroline's headquarters. Nancy didn't spot Ned, but it looked as if half of Emerson College had volunteered to help.

Nancy felt a little nervous as she stepped inside. What if someone recognized her as a volunteer for Caroline Hill's campaign?

“Hi!” Two lanky guys about Nancy's age greeted her immediately. Their button-down
shirts were covered with “Gleason for Mayor” buttons. “Are you here to volunteer for the campaign?” one guy asked.

“Uh, no,” Nancy replied. “I'm here to see Ned Nickerson.”

“He's over there, answering phones.” The other guy pointed across the room to a corner that hadn't been visible from the window. Ned had a telephone receiver to his ear. He looked so preoccupied that Nancy hesitated to interrupt him.

She was crossing toward him, when a door opened at the rear of the office and a man wearing a suit walked out. He was over six feet tall, lean and handsome, with a short, thick shock of dark hair that gave him a boyish air. Nancy recognized Patrick Gleason from his posters. He headed toward the water fountain near Nancy and stooped to get a drink.

Taking a deep breath, Nancy strode over to the candidate. “Hello, Mr. Gleason,” she began in a cheerful, brisk voice, “I'm Nancy Drew, Ned Nickerson's girlfriend.”

Patrick Gleason spun around, and a dazzling smile flashed across his face. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Nancy,” he said, shaking her hand firmly. “Ned's talked a lot about you. He mentioned that you're working for Caroline Hill,” Gleason added with a note of amusement. “That must make for interesting dinner conversation.”

“It does.” Nancy took a deep breath before adding, “Particularly with the ridiculous allegation
against Caroline Hill that was in
Today's Times
this morning. You wouldn't happen to know who gave that story to the paper, would you?”

Gleason's smile faded. He took Nancy's arm and ushered her into his office. “Are you accusing me of planting stories about my opponent?” he demanded, shutting the door.

Nancy swept her eyes over the clutter on Gleason's desk. She didn't see anything to indicate that he had provided Brenda with the story. “I have reason to believe that someone from this—”

Her words were cut short when Gleason's intercom was buzzed, and a voice said, “Brodsky from the
Morning Record
is on line three.”