Into Thin Air (9 page)

“Yeah, well, read it again,” the super told her. He opened the door and motioned for her to leave by jerking his head toward the street.

Nancy stepped out into the late afternoon sun. Forgery? She shook her head, mystified. Once again she looked up at the sixth-floor windows. They were empty. But the open window where she had spotted the man watching her was now closed.

Whatever the super and the woman in 6R said, someone had been in that apartment. And if what they'd told her was true, it wasn't Artie Wilson.

Bess and George trotted around the side of the building and ran up to her.

“What happened?” George asked anxiously.

“You first,” Nancy said. “Did anyone leave the building through the back door?”

George shook her head. “Nope. Not that we saw, and we've been standing there ever since you went inside.”

“How about you, Nan? Find anybody?” Bess asked.

“I found out there's a forger by the name of Artie Wilson who lives in the apartment where I saw the man in the window. But he's in prison.”

“So do you believe Mark now?” George asked. “Do you actually think Johnson is alive?”

Nancy pursed her lips and nodded. “It certainly seems like a possibility.”

Bess let out a low whistle. “But how, Nancy? After a helicopter explosion like that?”

“That's the next thing we're going to find out, Bess,” Nancy told her friend. They had reached her car and she stopped at the curb. “Wait right here, you two. I want to make a few phone calls. I won't be long.”

Nancy trotted over to a nearby telephone booth. Her first call was to Mark at the pizza parlor.

“Hi, Nancy. I'm on the other line. Can I call you back?” he asked.

“This'll just take a minute,” she told him. “I wanted you to know I'm going to charter a helicopter for tomorrow night. I want to duplicate Johnson's last ride. It may teach us something.”

“Good idea,” Mark said. “It worked when we found those mangled sunglasses.”

“I'll call you to let you know the time,” she said before she hung up.

Nancy's second call was to Mac MacIlvaney, “Mac? I need to charter a helicopter for tomorrow night. I'd like to go up at exactly the same time Johnson made his ride.”

“That would be about seven-fifteen,” he answered. “What's this all about?”

“I'll fill you in tomorrow night, Mac,” she
said, quickly hanging up. She made a third phone call to Chief McGinnis at the River Heights Police Department and managed to catch him just as he was leaving for the day.

“Arthur Wilson?” McGinnis said when Nancy inquired about the forger. “A convicted felon, as I recall. Hang on, I'll see what I can find out.”

A minute later the chief came back on the line. “Yup, we got him here, Nancy. He violated his parole in a minor way, so a judge ordered him to serve another two months of his sentence. He's due out in two days, on Friday at five o'clock.”

“Any chance I can visit him in jail before then?” Nancy asked.

“During regular visiting hours, sure.” McGinnis sounded alarmed. “Say, what do you want to see him for? He's not a pleasant character.”

“Just following my nose,” Nancy told him. “I have one more question—did you ever lab test Johnson's bloody clothing after the explosion?”

“No, I don't think so. Why?”

“Chief, I'm beginning to believe Christopher Johnson is still alive,” Nancy said. “I've got to go, but I'll keep you posted on what I find out.”

Nancy hung up and ran back to where Bess and George were standing. “Big day tomorrow,”
Nancy told them. “Want to come out to the airport with me at around dusk?”

“Sure, Nancy,” Bess said. “Why?”

“We're going on a helicopter ride,” Nancy said with a mischievous grin.

• • •

Late the next morning Nancy drove to the River Heights Jail and asked to see Artie Wilson.

“You have twenty minutes,” the guard said, ushering her into the waiting area. “The prisoner will come into cubicle fourteen. You can speak to him through the Plexiglas screen.”

Nancy seated herself on a hard plastic chair and waited. In a few minutes a thin, stooped, white-haired man appeared on the other side of the window. He cast Nancy a dark look and sat down.

“Artie Wilson?” Nancy asked, meeting his cold gaze with her own cool stare.

“Yeah,” the man answered, sticking his chin out defiantly. “Who wants to know?”

“I'm here to find out what happened to the money that was embezzled from the Anderson corporation,” Nancy said quietly.

Her bold statement obviously startled Wilson, but his expression immediately hardened into a sullen stare.

“What's it to you?” he demanded, his lip curling.

“The question is, what's it to you?” Nancy shot back, keeping her gaze level and steady.

Wilson slouched in his chair. “Let me tell you something, young lady. I don't know who you are, but I don't like people sticking their noses in where they don't belong.”

“You're in touch with Christopher Johnson,” Nancy bluffed. “I know he's alive. And I also know he's hiding out at your apartment.”

Wilson blanched. His hands began to tremble, and he dropped them to his lap. “I don't have to talk to you,” he spat. “I don't even know who you are, lady.”

He leaned close to the Plexiglas, his eyes flashing. “I'm not saying Johnson's alive, and I'm not saying he's dead. But I'll tell you this. If you know what's good for you, keep your nose out of other people's business—or you could end up getting hurt real bad!”

N
ANCY DIDN'T FLINCH.
So Artie Wilson was threatening her—or warning her, she thought. Well, she'd heard threats before. She stood and pushed her chair back.

“Nice talking to you, Mr. Wilson,” she said coolly.

“I've lived a long time by keeping my mouth shut,” Wilson snarled. “I advise you to do the same.”

The guard approached and put his hand on Wilson's arm. Wilson walked away.

Nancy watched him go. She still didn't know how to connect a convicted forger to Christopher Johnson's crime, and the whole case was beginning to frustrate her. Maybe
that night, though, she'd learn something at the airport, if all went well.

Fifteen minutes later Nancy was pulling into her driveway. Hannah Gruen was standing at the front door, taking in the mail.

“Well, hello, stranger,” Hannah greeted her.

Nancy gave her a quick hug and a kiss. “I know I've been out a lot lately. Sorry.”

Hannah opened the door and gestured for Nancy to enter ahead of her. “I'm sure you're keeping yourself busy. I hope you're hungry. I just made some chicken salad and fresh iced tea.”

Nancy got a plate while Hannah put out the food. “Your father has been concerned,” Hannah told her. “Where did you go in the middle of the night Monday?”

“I was totally safe,” Nancy assured her, digging into the delicious chicken salad. “I was at the police station in Brewster.” She knew that Hannah had probably been even more worried than her father, but Hannah would never admit it.

“Well, I'm happy to hear that,” Hannah said. “More salad?”

“No thanks. Any calls?”

“Yes—Ned called,” Hannah told her. “He said he would be in his room this afternoon, if you want to reach him.” She handed Nancy a napkin. “I guess he's expecting you this weekend.”

Oh, no, Nancy thought. She'd forgotten all about going to visit Ned at Emerson College that weekend. And with the pace of the investigation quickening, she knew she'd have to cancel. She felt terrible, even though she knew Ned would understand.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Nancy went to her room and reached for her phone. Ned answered on the second ring.

“I knew it was you,” he said. “I miss you. I can hardly wait to see you on the weekend.”

“Ned, look,” Nancy said with a sigh. “I'm sorry but—”

Ned listened as she filled him in on the case. When she was through, he let out a sigh.

“I understand, Nancy. These sound like dangerous characters, though. Are you sure you're not taking any unnecessary chances?”

Nancy let out a frustrated sigh. “What's going on? All of a sudden, everybody's worried about me—and I'm not in any danger at all!”

There was a beat of silence at the other end of the line. Then Ned asked, “Who else is worried about you? This guy Mark?”

Nancy wasn't sure, but she thought she detected a note of jealousy in his voice. “Not Mark,” she answered with a giggle. “He's too involved in this case to worry about anybody, including himself.”

“What's he like, anyway?” Ned asked.

“He's very cute,” Nancy teased. “But I
already have a boyfriend, remember?” She laughed. “Even though I can't get to see him this weekend.”

The reassurance seemed to work. “Well, the weekend afterward for sure,” he urged. “And I'll call you before then. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, and hung up the phone with a wistful sigh.

• • •

Nancy passed the afternoon cleaning her room and writing a letter to her aunt Eloise. Finally it was time to pick up George, Bess, and Mark for the trip to the airport.

The cousins were both on the Bradfords' porch chatting with Frances and Marie. Nancy beeped the horn. As George got into the front seat next to Nancy, Bess stood beside the window.

“Nan, I can't come with you,” she said, guiltily. “This guy Scott that I have a total crush on asked me out for tonight. What could I say? That I couldn't come because I had to go up in a helicopter and fly over a cornfield?”

“Hey, don't worry about it, Bess,” Nancy said with a grin. “Just have fun, and tell us all about it tomorrow.”

Bess was obviously relieved. “You know I will. Have a good time, okay?” With a last wave, she took off for her house.

Nancy grinned at George and shook her head. “Good old Bess, huh?”

“I think Bess is secretly scared to go up in a helicopter,” George commented.

Seconds later Mark burst out his front door and almost tripped down the porch steps. George leaned forward in her seat so he could crawl into the back of the Mustang.

“Listen,” he said when he was settled. “I have something to say before we head off.”

“What?” Nancy said, turning to face him.

Mark leaned forward in his seat. “I've been thinking maybe I should do this helicopter ride myself, Nancy. It could be dangerous, and I don't want you getting hurt because of me. I mean, it's my case, after all.”

Nancy rolled her eyes, “That's very gallant of you,” she said with more than a hint of sarcasm. “But George and I can handle ourselves just fine.”

“We've probably been in a lot more tight fixes than you have, Mark,” George pointed out. “Besides, going up in the helicopter was Nancy's idea, not yours.”

Mark glanced from George to Nancy. “You're right.” He nodded. “But I was thinking, if we really want to reconstruct Johnson's escape, we should probably do a real chase. We could ask the police to fire a couple of shots to—”

“Planet Earth to Mark Rubin!” Nancy broke in. “Do you read us?” Mark blinked.

Nancy grinned at him. “Just trying to bring you down to earth again.”

Mark nodded and sat back. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I got a little carried away.

“Okay, so forget I even said it and listen to my big breakthrough,” Mark went on. He looked from Nancy to George with a self-satisfied grin, deliberately keeping them in suspense.

“No fair, Mark,” Nancy cried. “Out with it!”

Mark reached into his pocket and took out the pair of mangled glasses Nancy had found at the railroad tracks. He dangled them in front of the two girls. “One lens was completely smashed, but there was enough glass left in the left lens for an optometrist to tell me its strength.”

“So?” George prodded.

“So then I took the day off from work and spent all afternoon calling every eye doctor in Brewster until I found Johnson's. I sweet-talked the receptionist into telling me his prescription.”

Nancy's eyes lit up. “Was it—”

Mark nodded slowly and deliberately. “It matched. Exactly. These are Johnson's glasses. They have to be.”

“So that proves it!” George exclaimed. “You
did
see him and he
is
still alive!”

Mark pretended to be insulted. “Did you ever doubt me?”

Nancy and George couldn't help laughing. “Let's just say we had to look at all the angles first,” Nancy said.

“That still doesn't explain how he survived a helicopter explosion,” George pointed out.

Nancy started the car. “That, my friends, is what we'll find out before the day is over.”