Illusions of Evil (7 page)

Nancy reached toward Freda and said, “Ms. Clarke, I know how much you and Chris have suffered, but—”

“Look,” Vince lashed out, “this is going nowhere. The whole thing will be decided in court.” He strode to the door and held it open. “I'm sick of you pestering Freda. I want you out—now—and I don't want to ask again!”

Nancy could tell they wouldn't get much further with Freda and Vince. She walked out the front door with George close behind.

“That was asking?” George said as they headed toward the car. “I'd hate to see what happens when he tells someone to do something.”

Nancy noticed a truck parked at the curb with the words Garraty Hauling and Disposal, Inc., 10900 River Bluff Road, 232-7961 painted on the side. There were smaller letters below the company name and address. “ ‘Where there's no such thing as trash,' ” Nancy read aloud.

“Nice,” George commented dryly.

Once they were in Nancy's car, George said, “That didn't go too well, did it?”

“Actually, better than you might think.” Nancy started up the engine. “Chris as much as admitted that his accident wasn't all the park's fault, and I got a chance to meet Vince Garraty.”

“What a delight!” George replied, then buckled her seat belt and grabbed the map. “Where to next?” she asked.

“Find this street on the map,” Nancy said, handing her the slip of paper with Benny Gotnick's address on it.

“Right,” George responded.

Ten minutes later they were parked in front of a dilapidated little house on a seedy street in Conklin Falls. The paint on the house was chipping, and the tiny yard was overgrown with weeds.

“I don't see a car. Do you think he's in there?” George asked. “The place looks almost abandoned.”

“Only one way to find out,” Nancy replied. “Stay here. I'll be right back.” She got out of the car and made her way through the weeds to the front door.

There was no bell, so she pounded on the door. After a while she turned back to George and gave a shrug. She tried the door. It was locked. She knocked again, just to make sure, then reached into her bag for her lockpicking kit.

“Looking for Benny?” she heard someone call.

Nancy swung around and saw a middle-aged man in khaki pants and a faded flannel shirt emerge from the house next door. She quickly tucked her kit back in her shoulder bag.

“He's at work,” the man said affably. “But you could catch him after six or so.”

“Great,” Nancy replied. “I'll come back.” Then she started down the cracked walk but, on second thought, stopped. “You don't happen to know where he works, do you?” she asked, smiling. “I'm the daughter of an old friend of his, and I kind of wanted to surprise him.”

“Sure,” the man said. “Garraty Hauling, just south of town.”

Nancy's eyes widened, but she kept her voice level. “Thanks. I'll try there,” she said.

When she got back to the car and pulled away from the curb, she let out a long breath. “Did you hear that, George?”

Her friend nodded.

Nancy checked her watch. It was almost five-thirty. “Up for a little more work before we call it a day?” she asked.

“What do you have in mind?” George asked.

“I'd like to check out Garraty's place—nose around, see if we can find Benny, that sort of thing. I remember the address from the truck. River Bluff Road. Benny's neighbor said it's just south of town.”

“Not a bad idea,” George said. “You know, it really is weird that Benny works for Vince. Do you think it could have any connection to the case?”

“I don't know,” Nancy replied. “But I definitely want to avoid running into Vince. Somehow, I don't think he'd welcome us with open arms.”

“I know what you mean,” George agreed.

As it turned out, Garraty Hauling and Disposal was about half a mile north of Adriana's amusement park. A sign pointed down a dirt drive that led to a gate and a chain link fence surrounding the complex. There wasn't a guard, so Nancy drove right into the lot.

“Let's just cruise around,” Nancy said, slowing the Mustang to five miles an hour. At one side there was a big garage with two Garraty trucks pulled up to loading bays. Next door was a prefabricated building with a sign indicating that the company's main office was inside.

Nancy steered around the garage. Behind it was another parking lot, bigger than the first, with several dump trucks parked in it. At the back Nancy noticed a tanker. On its side, in bold letters, were the words Warning—Toxic Waste.

At the far side of the lot was an enormous warehouse with scores of steel drums stacked outside. The whole place seemed to be deserted, probably because it was after five, Nancy surmised.

“I doubt we'll find Benny around now,” George said.

“You're right,” Nancy answered. She turned the car around. “But maybe I'll stop in at the office, just to be sure.”

“You're a brave soul, Nancy Drew,” George joked.

Nancy parked in front of the office building and was just about to get out when George hissed, “Stop!”

Through the windshield, Nancy could see Vince Garraty coming out the front door with a briefcase in his hand. She and George ducked, their heads close together on the front seat. “I
guess he didn't stick around at Freda's,” George whispered.

Only when they heard Vince start up his car and drive away did they get up.

“That was a close one,” Nancy said, grinning.

George just shook her head.

• • •

Nancy decided to take the scenic route, along River Bluff Road, back to River Heights. The parkway was more direct, but River Bluff was prettier, especially south of the amusement park.

As she drove, Nancy thought about the Benny Gotnick-Vince Garraty connection. Could the two of them be working together? she wondered. It made a certain amount of sense. Vince had definitely been hostile to her at Freda's.

Her father had said that Vince didn't really care all that much about closing down Riverfront. He was only humoring his fiancée. Would he engage in sabotage for her sake though? He was a respected businessman with a good deal to lose. It didn't seem likely.

Benny was the key, she decided. The next day she'd track him down no matter what.

Gradually her thoughts strayed to her date that night with Ned. It would be wonderful to be alone with him. A long-distance relationship wasn't easy, but Ned and Nancy were trying their best to make it work.

“Earth to Nancy!” George called out.

Nancy shook herself out of her reverie. “Sorry, George. What?”

George laughed. “Nothing in particular. I just wanted to make sure you were still there.”

For the next ten minutes Nancy kept her mind on the road. Below and to her right, the river wound its way south to River Heights. The road meandered through the woods, then curved back toward the cliffs above the river. A gravel shoulder and guardrail were all that separated it from a two-hundred-foot drop. After a few miles, Nancy realized that the car behind her was perilously close. She sped up, and so did the other car. When she slowed down again, the other car remained close behind.

“What's wrong?” George asked.

“I think someone's tailing us,” Nancy answered.

Then, with a screech of tires, the black sports car sped up and started to zoom around them on the left, forcing Nancy to steer the Mustang toward the gravel shoulder at the right.

“What a jerk!” George said.

The windshield was tinted dark so Nancy couldn't see the driver as the sports car started to pass.

All at once the black car veered toward Nancy's Mustang, ramming her front left fender. Nancy clutched the steering wheel, but the Mustang jolted and swerved wildly.

As the black car pulled past them, Nancy
fought to straighten the wheels of the Mustang. It was too late. The front end of the Mustang hit the gravel shoulder and skidded toward the guardrail.

Nancy saw a slice of the river shimmer before her.

George screamed, “We're heading right for the edge!”

N
ANCY DESPERATELY HELD ON
to the wheel, trying to control the Mustang. She hit the metal guardrail anyway and felt it give way.

“Look out!” George screamed.

Then without warning Nancy felt the wheels bite into the rough shoulder of the road. The Mustang came out of the skid! Nancy turned the wheel to the left until the car was straight and reentered the lane.

Fifty feet up the road was a scenic lookout, so Nancy slowed down and pulled in, her heart pounding, her hands almost welded to the wheel.

Both girls sat in stunned silence for several minutes.

“Are you okay?” Nancy finally asked George.

George let out a deep breath. “Fine, considering that a maniac just tried to kill us.”

Nancy opened the car door and looked back up the road, but the sports car had long since disappeared around a bend. “You didn't happen to see the license plate number, did you?”

George shook her head. “I could make a stab at the first few letters. But it all happened so fast.”

“I know,” Nancy agreed. “And the car's windows were tinted, so I couldn't see the driver at all.” Frustrated, she hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. “Well, I guess I'd better get out and take a look at the damage.”

The front left fender was pretty banged up, but the car was still operable.

“We were lucky,” George said as she came around from the passenger side and bent down to inspect the damage. George ran her hand over the dent. “Well, whoever the driver was, he lost some paint,” she said slowly.

Nancy leaned in close and scrutinized the scrape mark. George was right. There was a trace of black paint over the dented blue metal.

Suddenly she sprang up. “I know I've seen a black sports car someplace recently,” she said, leaning her hands against the hood. “Where was it?”

George remained silent so that Nancy could concentrate.

Then a dark look passed over Nancy's face. “Mikhail Grigov!”

“Adriana's old partner?” George exclaimed. “But why would he try to run us off the road?”

“I told you how he threatened me in the parking lot at Riverfront, didn't I?” Nancy reminded her friend. “That's where I saw his car, and it was definitely a sporty black number—European, I think.”

“So you've got another suspect now,” George remarked.

“Yes.” Nancy sighed. “And it's also pretty clear that someone wants me off the case.”

“Don't you think we'd better go back into Conklin Falls and report this to the sheriff?” George asked.

Nancy nodded in agreement. “I've got some questions I want to ask him about the roller coaster accident anyway.”

The two friends got back into the car and headed into town. Within ten minutes they had found the headquarters of the sheriff's department, a two-story brick building on the main street, right next to the courthouse. The deputy on duty directed them to Sheriff Pulaski's office.

The sheriff rose from behind his desk as Nancy and George came through the door. He was a compact, fit man of about fifty or so, whose brown hair was shot through with gray. Nancy immediately recognized him from the television news segment the night before. She quickly introduced herself and George, and Pulaski shook their hands. He took a seat behind his desk, while Nancy and George sat down opposite him.

“What can I do for you?” the sheriff asked.

Nancy got right to the point. She briefly explained her involvement in the case at Riverfront Park and then told him about being run off the road by a man in a car that looked like the one owned by Adriana's ex-partner.

The sheriff instantly turned businesslike and pulled a report form out of his desk. “So you figure it was this Mikhail Grigov character,” the sheriff said. “Did you actually see him behind the wheel?”

“No, the glass was tinted so dark that I couldn't make a positive identification,” Nancy said.

“Did you get the license number?” Pulaski asked.

Nancy bit her lower lip. “Not exactly.” On the way back into Conklin Falls, George had been able to remember the first two letters of the plate. Nancy gave them to Pulaski now. “I realize that's not a lot to go on.”

“No, it isn't,” the sheriff agreed. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. “And I really don't see what Grigov stands to gain by threatening you or sabotaging Riverfront—
if
it's been sabotaged.”

Nancy told the sheriff about the roller coaster's missing wheel block.

“Sounds like an accident to me—” He ran his hand through his hair, which sprang up into a cowlick at his touch.

George stared pointedly at Nancy, silently
communicating a thought Nancy shared—that Pulaski wasn't going to be much help to them.