Choosing Sides (9 page)

N
ANCY GLANCED
frantically around the room. She had to think of a way to get them out of this mess—fast!

Suddenly she had an idea. Planting her hands on her hips, she faced her boyfriend and said in a loud, angry voice, “Ned Nickerson! You're a real jerk, you know that?”

Ned looked at her in astonishment. “What?” he said.

“Pretend we're fighting,” she whispered, pointing to the door. Raising her voice to a shout, she said, “First, you tell me you don't even know the girl, and then you tell me she's just a friend!”

Nancy waved her hand at him to respond. Then she hurriedly bent down to pick up the contents of the drawer.

“Well, she
is
just a friend!” he defended himself
loudly. Stifling a laugh, he helped Nancy return pens and papers to the drawer.

“Really?” Nancy's voice was icy as she scooped up paper clips. “And are you in the habit of kissing all your friends?”

They paused and listened: The footsteps had stopped. Good! Nancy thought. Hopefully the person was totally embarrassed and wondering what to do.

“You know, Nancy,” Ned went on, “I'm getting really sick of your crazy accusations!” He finished putting the last of the items back in the drawer, then slid it into its slot.

“Is that so?” Nancy shot back. “Then maybe I should just leave right now!” She stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind her.

Their one-man audience, a tall, middle-aged man, was hovering near the office door when Nancy came out. She saw his face switch from fascination to embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping. Nancy faked a gasp of shock at his presence and hurried out the front door. Moments later, after apologizing to the staff member, Ned joined Nancy down the street, where they couldn't be seen from the headquarters' windows.

“Fights are fun when you don't mean it,” Ned joked. He pulled Nancy into his arms as he leaned against a parked car.

“Aren't they, though?” Nancy agreed, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Maybe we
should take up acting. We sure had that poor guy convinced!”

Ned laughed. “Yeah, that was Dave Mitchell, a staff member. I told him I was really sorry for using Gleason's office for our fight. I acted as embarrassed as he was.” He kissed her hair.

“Hey,” Nancy said, looking up into his face. She thought he looked cuter than ever. “How about dinner at my house tonight? I really owe you after all the trouble I keep getting you into. Hannah's making roast chicken and blueberry cobbler.”

Ned grinned at her. “You're on. For tonight, you and I are going to forget about this campaign
and
your case.”

He bent to kiss her, and Nancy found that she didn't have any problem forgetting about everything else in the world but Ned.

• • •

“Now, I'm supposed to be Molly Thomas, a photographer at
Today's Times
, right?” Bess asked Wednesday morning, as she and Nancy climbed the marble staircase in City Hall.

“That's right,” Nancy replied. It was just before nine, the time of the appointment she had made with Mayor Filanowski, pretending to be Brenda. The girls' heels clicked across the polished hallway as they headed for the mayor's second-floor office. Bess was carrying a camera bag. “I can't believe Hector is trusting me with
his best camera,” she said. “I hope I don't drop it.”

As they passed a mirror set in a gilt frame on the wall, Nancy paused to check her reflection. Staring back at her was a chic, sophisticated young woman, wearing a tailored houndstooth suit with a short, narrow skirt and black pumps.

“You look very Brenda Carlton,” Bess said, giggling. “Especially with that red lipstick and French braid.”

“I just hope he's never met Brenda before—or that it's so long ago that he's forgotten how she looks.”

When the girls reached the mayor's office, Nancy introduced herself and Bess to the mayor's secretary, Mrs. Wellborn. The petite, grayhaired woman reminded Nancy of a small bird.

Pressing her intercom button, Mrs. Wellborn said, “Mayor, the Carlton girl is here for her interview, along with her photographer, Miss Thomas.”

A moment later, a portly man in his early sixties appeared. “Come on in, Miss Carlton, Miss Thomas!”

Nancy had never met Mayor Filanowski before, but she recognized him from pictures she'd seen in the paper. He smiled jovially at the girls as he shook hands and waved them into his office.

Nancy exchanged a relieved look with Bess. Filanowski didn't seem to know that Nancy wasn't Brenda. So far so good!

The girls glanced around at the gleaming wood paneling and thick damask curtains, then sat in the upholstered chairs the mayor indicated by his desk. He sank into his leather desk chair and locked his fingers behind his head. He had already shed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

“I must tell you, Miss Carlton, I have only a few minutes to give you. But that's more than any other reporter is getting, so you should feel lucky. And of course you know my policy of not discussing the upcoming election.” When Nancy and Bess nodded, he smiled. “Now, you wanted to talk to me about growing up in River Heights?”

“Yes, that's right,” Nancy replied, flipping open her notebook and pretending to take notes.

The mayor launched into a long description of what the city was like when he was a boy. “Things have certainly changed for the better,” he told them. “The old stereotypes are breaking down. We've even got our first female firefighter!”

“Doesn't it seem ironic, Mayor,” Nancy said, smiling sweetly, “that you have such compassion for minorities and women, and yet you're being accused of sabotaging Caroline Hill's chance of becoming mayor?”

Filanowski glowered at Nancy. “If you're talking about the editorial in the
Morning Record,
that's a bunch of nonsense!” he said gruffly. “I am not trying to hurt Caroline Hill any more than I am trying to help Patrick Gleason.”

“Then why have you remained silent?” Nancy persisted.

“I've already stated my reason!” Filanowski shouted, then hit the desk with his fist. “That's all I'll say on the matter! Why won't you people leave me alone!”

Nancy and Bess jumped in their seats. Why was he reacting so strongly to the questions? Nancy wondered.

“Excuse me,” Filanowski mumbled, his face reddening. “I'm a little tense these days. It's not easy facing retirement. Now, where were we?”

At that moment, the mayor's intercom buzzed, and he hit the button. “Yes?”

“Al is on line one,” Mrs. Wellborn said.

“Tell him I'll get back to him in five minutes,” Filanowski replied. Then he stood up and turned to Bess. “Now, Miss Thomas,” he said, “if you're ready to take my picture, we can wrap up this interview.”

Nancy felt her heart sink. Obviously, the mayor had no intention of saying anything more about the election.

Bess chatted with the mayor about his retirement plans as she posed him next to a photograph of himself as a boy. Then she and Nancy thanked the mayor and left.

As they passed Mrs. Wellborn's desk, Nancy paused. “What will you do when Mayor Filanowski retires?” she asked pleasantly.

“I'm retiring to Florida also,” Mrs. Wellborn answered. “Though I'm afraid I could never afford to live in Pelican Bay, where the mayor will be living. You have to be practically a millionaire to live there.”

“Well, good luck,” Bess told the secretary.

As soon as the girls had left City Hall, Bess said, “Filanowski really lost it when you asked him about Caroline. Do you think it means anything?”

“It makes me wonder if he has some special reason for not backing Caroline—something he doesn't want people to know,” Nancy said. Then she shrugged. “But according to my dad, he's always been honest and straightforward. What could he possibly have to hide?”

They reached Nancy's Mustang, and Bess put Hector's camera bag in the backseat before she and Nancy climbed in front. “There's something else I don't get. How could the mayor afford an expensive condo in Florida?” Bess asked. “Didn't Hector tell us the mayor lost a lot of money a year ago?”

“That's right,” Nancy said. “But I still don't see any connection between him and the frame-up. We'll just have to keep looking for clues. Come on, let's go to headquarters. I'm sure
Caroline and Hector will want to know how things went.”

Fifteen minutes later, Nancy parked in front of Caroline's headquarters. They were just getting out of the car as Hector came to meet them, a concerned expression on his face.

“Don't worry, your camera's fine,” Bess assured him, pointing to the bag on the backseat.

Nancy started to tell Hector about their interview, but he cut her off. “You can tell me all about the mayor later,” he said tersely. “Right now you both have to go get Kyle.”

“What are you talking about?” Bess asked, stopping on the sidewalk. “Where is he?”

“He was picked up by the police for trespassing and assault,” he replied.

“What!” Nancy and Bess both exclaimed.

Hector held up a calming hand. “Apparently, he decided to stake out Patrick Gleason's house this morning, and something went wrong.”

“Nan, let's get down there!” Bess said urgently.

“There's one other thing,” Hector added.

Bess and Nancy turned to look at him.

“I don't mean to worry you,” he cautioned, “but I think Kyle's been hurt.”

H
URT
!” B
ESS CRIED
. Her eyes widened in fear. “How badly? What happened?”

“All Kyle told me was that he'd been banged up in a fight,” Hector replied.

Nancy and Bess didn't wait to hear anything more. They jumped back into Nancy's Mustang and drove to the police station. When they walked into the precinct room, Nancy spotted Kyle sitting on a chair near the desk sergeant.

Bess gasped as Kyle stood up and walked toward them. His shirt was torn, his left eye was swollen, and he had a gauze bandage on his forehead.

“Kyle, what happened to you! Are you all right?” Bess cried, running over to him.

Nancy stayed a few feet back as Kyle tipped
Bess's chin up so he could kiss her softly on the lips. “I got into a fight, sort of, with Steve Hill,” Kyle explained, looking sheepishly from Bess to Nancy.

“Steve Hill?” Nancy repeated, confused. “But I thought you were at Patrick Gleason's house.”

Kyle let out a long breath. “I'll explain everything, but let's just get out of here, okay? No one pressed charges, so I can go, but my car is still parked by Gleason's. Could you drop me off there?”

Bess got in the backseat with Kyle and made him lean his head back as he talked. “I'm not sure why I decided to stake out Gleason's house,” he began, as Nancy pulled the car away from the curb. “I guess I just figured that it couldn't hurt, since we hadn't come up with any huge clues anywhere else.

“Anyway, I'd been standing across the street from the house for a while, and I hadn't seen anyone suspicious. I was just about to leave, when Steve Hill drove up.”

“Did he see you?” Nancy asked, as she drove.

“Not at first,” Kyle replied. “But when he came out five minutes later, instead of getting in his car, he crossed the street and walked toward me. He dropped a letter in the mailbox near me. I turned away, but he spotted me, anyway. I guess I'm a pretty crummy detective,” he said apologetically.

Bess gently stroked his cheek. “That's not true. Staking out Gleason's house was a great idea, even if you didn't find out anything.”

“What was Steve Hill doing at Gleason's house?” Nancy asked, looking at Kyle in the rearview mirror.

“I didn't exactly have a chance to find out,” Kyle told her. “Hill grabbed me and asked what I was doing spying on Gleason. When I told him it was none of his business, he pushed me forward, away from him, and I stumbled and fell against the mailbox—that's how I bashed up my face. Pretty soon a squad car showed up. Mrs. Gleason had seen us fighting from her window, so she called the cops.

“Of course Steve Hill told the cops that I was spying on Gleason and that I'd attacked him,” Kyle went on. “But I wasn't trespassing, and it was obvious that
I
was the only one hurt, so he didn't press charges. The police just brought me down to the station in a squad car to fill out a report.”

Following Kyle's directions, Nancy made her way to Patrick Gleason's brick house and pulled up behind Kyle's yellow hatchback across the street. “I'm sorry you had to go through all that, Kyle.”

“Especially since I didn't even find out anything,” he said. “I guess I'd better go home, clean up, and get changed. What are you two up to?”