Choosing Sides (6 page)

Just then a guy wearing a gold lamé tuxedo and sunglasses sauntered past them. Kyle shaded his eyes and joked, “Man, I can't see! That suit is blinding me!”

“I almost forgot about the entertainment part of this rally,” Bess said, giggling. “Let's at least listen to the band before we go check out Bobby Rouse, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Nancy agreed. When the group of guys started to play, she couldn't help moving to the beat. Pretty soon a large group of Caroline Hill supporters were dancing on the stage. During a fast song, Nancy almost knocked into someone at the edge of the crowd. Turning, she saw that it was Brenda Carlton.

“Oops, sorry, Brenda,” Nancy said breathlessly, coming to a stop. “What brings you here? Don't tell me you're a Hill supporter.”

“Hardly!” Brenda replied sourly, holding up her reporter's pad. “I happen to be working on an assignment, thanks to you.”

“How's that?” Nancy asked.

Brenda put a hand on her hip. “After you talked to my father about my article, he had no choice but to ask me to write a retraction to the Caroline Hill scandal if I couldn't verify positively that the photo was accurate and not doctored. I just got a statement from Ms. Hill.”

Before Nancy could reply, Bess and Kyle came up to her. “Hey, Nan, it's almost nine. Maybe we'd better go look for Bobby Rouse now and—” Bess broke off when she saw Brenda.

“Bobby Rouse?” Brenda was suddenly alert. “What are you going to talk to him about?”

Bess shot Nancy an apologetic look. “It's nothing,
Brenda, really,” Bess said, but the reporter didn't look convinced.

“You guys are up to something.” Brenda closed her notebook. “I'm coming with you. Don't even try to talk me out of it,” she said firmly. “I have as much of a right to talk to him as you do.”

“Look, Brenda—” Nancy began.

“Either you let me come with you, or I follow you, anyway,” Brenda said.

Nancy exchanged a look with Bess and Kyle. At least if Brenda was with them, Nancy thought, they might be able to keep her from doing something stupid. “Well, okay,” Nancy finally said. “But first I want to make a few calls. I'll meet you all at my car in a couple of minutes.”

While the others headed outside, Nancy found a pay phone in the lobby and called Chief McGinnis. “Hi, Chief,” she said when he came on the line. “I heard that Bobby Rouse is out on bail. Can you tell me who posted the bond?”

She waited while he called for the report. “A guy named Ralph Lemko,” Chief McGinnis said.

“Hmm. That could be the same Ralph I saw Rouse talking to earlier today,” Nancy said.

Chief McGinnis gave her Lemko's address. “Oh, one more thing,” he told her. “I ran a computer check on Bobby Rouse. It turns out that the address he gave us is false. I thought you'd want to know, in case you're planning on talking to him.”

Nancy tried to hide her disappointment.
“Thanks for letting me know,” she said. “I guess I'll have to try to find him somewhere else.”

After hanging up, Nancy joined Kyle, Bess, and Brenda at her car. They piled in, with Bess and Kyle in the backseat and Brenda up front with Nancy.

“The address we have for Bobby Rouse is bogus, so let's drive by Slim and Shorty's,” Nancy suggested as they drove away. “Maybe we'll find Rouse or his friend Ralph.”

When they reached the diner, Nancy slowed down to look around. The lights at Slim and Shorty's glowed brightly, but just about every other building around was dark.

“This neighborhood looks even scarier at night than it did this morning,” Bess said with a shiver.

Nancy pulled to a halt in front of the diner and gazed through the windows that ran the full length of the front. The diner was almost deserted. The booths were empty. An old man sat over his coffee at a long counter, and a short, fat cook in a dirty apron read the paper.

“I don't see either Rouse or his friend in there,” Kyle said, frowning. “Now what?”

“I can't believe you guys made me go on a total wild-goose chase!” Brenda sighed in exasperation.

“What a drag,” Nancy muttered. She pulled into the street, then turned into an alley to turn around. Her headlights lit up a parked car about halfway down the narrow drive.

“Better back out, Nan,” Bess advised.

“Wait,” Nancy said, peering ahead. “Why is the passenger door on that car open?”

“Who cares?” Brenda said. “It's an abandoned car. Let's just get out of here.”

But Nancy was already out of the car. Kyle and Bess followed, with Brenda trailing behind. Nancy couldn't see anyone in the rust-pitted sedan as she approached, but that didn't mean that the driver wasn't in or near the car. She looked in all directions, then peered through the open door.

The next instant, Nancy gasped and jerked back. Stretched out on the front seat was Bobby Rouse. He was staring up at her with dead, unseeing eyes.

Nancy felt a wave of nausea as she leaned in for a closer look. Bobby's expression was frozen in a look of mild surprise, his eyes blank. Blood still trickled from a neat, round bullet hole above his ear.

Behind her, Nancy heard Bess and Brenda muffle screams.

“Is he dead?” Kyle asked, hugging Bess to his chest.

Nancy reached in and gingerly felt Rouse's pulse, then gave a terse nod.

“I think I feel sick,” Brenda said in a tight voice. “I have to get out of here. I mean, I, uh, better go back and call in to the newspaper with this right away.” She took off down the alley.

“Call the police, too!” Nancy called after her.

Nancy's gaze ran over the car's interior, which was empty except for a takeout coffee container and a scrap of paper lying on the dashboard. Leaning over, she read aloud the words scrawled on the paper: “‘Nine o'clock, Greenwood.' ”

Kyle checked his watch. “It's nearly ten o'clock,” he said. “Do you think that note's about some kind of meeting?”

“Maybe,” Nancy replied. “But I wonder what or who Greenwood is? And if Greenwood has anything to do with why he was killed.” She turned and headed toward the alley's entrance. “Come on, let's go make sure Brenda called the police.”

• • •

“What did Caroline say when you told her about Bobby Rouse?” Bess whispered to Nancy Tuesday morning.

Nancy had just taken a seat next to her friend in the front row of folding chairs set up in the middle of Farragut Park, near downtown River Heights. Caroline, standing on a platform decorated with red, white, and blue bunting, was about to speak to a coalition of teens and senior citizens who had banded together to clean up the park.

“She was pretty upset,” Nancy answered. “Not only is she being framed, but someone's actually been killed. And now Bobby Rouse can never tell us who arranged for him to pose in that photograph.”

“Which means that Caroline might never find out who's trying to ruin her campaign,” Bess finished.

Turning around in her chair, Nancy glanced at the crowd. Her gaze narrowed when she saw three college-aged guys standing in the back.

“Bess!” she said softly, pointing. “I saw those guys at Patrick Gleason's headquarters yesterday. They were bad-mouthing Caroline.”

Bess frowned. “What are they doing here?”

“Beats me, but I'm going to keep an eye on them.” Nancy turned back to face front as Caroline was introduced to the crowd.

“Friends,” Caroline began, “I remember just two years ago when this park was a wasteland where children never played and people were afraid to walk at night. But through your hard, unselfish work—”

“Murderer!”
a voice shouted from the back row, cutting Caroline short.

Turning around, Nancy saw that the three guys from Gleason's office were on their feet. Now they all shouted together, “Murderer!” One guy was holding up a sign in dripping red paint: The Answer: Hill Killed Rouse.

Nancy gasped and jumped to her feet. “Bess, we have to get them out of here right away! This could ruin Caroline's campaign!”

She had only gone a step when the three young men rushed up to the dais.

“They have something under their shirts!”
Bess said, gripping Nancy's arm. “They're going to hurt Caroline!”

Nancy sprinted toward the guys, but it was too late.

“No! Don't do it!” Caroline shouted as one of the men heaved a small, round object at her. It was a balloon, Nancy realized.

Nancy froze as she saw the balloon strike Caroline and explode. The next instant, Caroline was covered head to toe in blood!

N
ANCY WATCHED IN HORROR
as Caroline staggered backward, dazed, dripping with the gooey red liquid.

“You'll never get Bobby Rouse's blood off your hands, Hill!” a wiry member of the trio snarled.

Nancy leapt into action, covering the last few steps to Caroline. Bess was right behind her. Catching Caroline by the shoulders, Nancy and Bess turned her away from the hecklers.

“It's paint,” Nancy told Caroline as soon as she saw the red liquid up close.

Hector and several volunteers sprinted up from their chairs and tackled two of the attackers, while the third got away. The whole crowd was in an uproar.

All at once Caroline seemed to recover from the shock. “This has to stop!” she said angrily.
She strode over to the two men who were pinned to the ground. Nancy and Bess followed.

“What is the meaning of this outrage!” Caroline demanded.

The two men got to their feet. Nancy saw the beefy guy's Adam's apple bob as he looked at Caroline. “You know what it's about!” he shot back. “It's all over the front page of
Today's Times.
Bobby Rouse was found murdered last night.”

“We know you killed him,” the wiry one broke in. “Why don't you just give up now?”

“Uh-oh,” Nancy whispered in Bess's ear. “This kind of publicity is really going to hurt Caroline.”

“That's just what these guys want,” Bess said, shaking her head in disgust.

“Caroline,” Nancy said, stepping forward, “I think you should know that these guys work on Patrick Gleason's campaign.”

Turning back to the young men, Caroline demanded, “Does Patrick Gleason know anything about this?”

“He had nothing to do with this,” the thin one replied. “We were acting on our own.”

Caroline's questioning was interrupted when two police officers showed up to take the protesters away. Caroline regained her composure. Before she returned to the dais, she said to Nancy, “I'm going to have to change clothes after this,
but I'd like you to meet me back at headquarters later to fill me in on any new developments.”

While Caroline tried to calm the crowd, Bess whispered, “What are we going to do to stop all these lies, Nancy?”

“We have to find out who planted that story about Caroline and who killed Bobby Rouse and why,” she said. “Right now Steve Hill and Patrick Gleason are our only suspects. I'm meeting Ned for lunch later. Maybe he can help me find out what, if anything, either Gleason or Steve Hill knows about Bobby Rouse's death.”

“And about that Greenwood thing in the note we found in Rouse's car,” Bess added.

Nancy nodded. “Right. Caroline and Patrick Gleason are going to be debating this afternoon at four. Maybe Ned can help me check out Gleason's office for clues then, while everyone is at the debate. But for now, why don't you and I wait for Caroline at her headquarters?”

Nancy dug her notebook out of her shoulder bag and ripped out one of the pages. “This is the license plate number of the woman we saw at Hill's house yesterday,” she said, handing Bess the paper. “It's a long shot, but maybe the woman fits into Caroline's frame-up or Bobby Rouse's murder somehow. While we're waiting for Caroline, we can call the Department of Motor Vehicles and try to trace the plate and find out the owner's name.”

“Shouldn't we be looking into Greenwood, too?” Bess asked.

“Definitely. We can search the phone book for every Greenwood in the area.”

• • •

An hour later Caroline returned to the campaign office. Leaving Bess poring over the phone book for any Greenwoods, Nancy went into the back office to talk to the candidate. She spotted a copy of
Today's Times
on Caroline's desk. “Oh, so here's the article on Bobby Rouse's murder,” Nancy said to Caroline as she picked up the paper.

Skimming through the article, Nancy was relieved to see that there was nothing linking the murder to Caroline. In a small box at the bottom of the page, a few lines mentioned that there had been some “factual errors” in the previous day's article about the fencing ring, as well as a short quote from Caroline.

“It's not much of an apology,” Nancy said, folding up the paper in disgust.