Trial By Fire

Chapter Two

Nancy, Ann Granger, and Bess sat in the police precinct’s cafeteria. It was a dingy basement room filled with vending machines, but since it was nearly three, they were all too hungry for the decor to matter. Ned had already eaten and gone back upstairs to see how much longer they’d have to wait.

“I just don’t understand it,” Nancy said again. “How could my uncle Jon do this?”

Ann sipped her coffee. “Judge Renk’s reputation is as impeccable as your father’s. Maybe more so, since he’s been around longer. He must really believe the bribe came from Carson.”

“He has a good reason.” Ned appeared behind them. Turning a chair to face them, he straddled it. “It’s worse than we thought, Nancy. The police have a tape of a call your dad is supposed to have made to the judge, offering him the money.”

“What?” Nancy stood up, almost knocking her chair over. “Then the tape’s a fake!”

“It must be a good one,” Bess said, “if it fooled the judge.”

“Right. That’s really scary,” Nancy said. “But how could my uncle believe- Ned, do you have a quarter? I’m out of change.”

He dug into a pocket. “Who are you going to call?”

“My uncle Jon. I won’t be satisfied until he tells me he really believes my dad is capable of something like this.”

Nancy walked upstairs to the first-floor hall where she had seen a bank of telephones. As she deposited the quarter, Ann, Bess, and Ned hurried toward her.

Her ring was answered immediately, and she recognized the lilting brogue of the housekeeper. “Hello, Mrs. O’Hara,” she said. “This is Nancy. Nancy Drew.”

There was a sharp indrawn breath. “Ah, Nancy, it’s a dark day, isn’t it? How are you?”

“Fine, Mrs. O’Hara. Is my uncle Jon there?” The only response was a long silence. “Mrs. O’Hara, please,” Nancy begged. “You know how important this is.”

“Aye, that I do, Nancy. But his honor hasn’t been well, poor man, and this business with Mr. Carson has almost put him in his bed.”

“I’m sorry, but he can’t feel any worse than we do. May I speak to him?”

“He’s not home. And he’s not at the courthouse, either,” Mrs. O’Hara added hurriedly.

“What time do you think he’ll be back?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t know, and that’s the truth. Whenever it is, he won’t be taking calls. He’s that sick at heart.”

Nancy was determined not to give up. “When he gets back, would you ask if he’d see me? Please?”

A gusty sigh told her she had gotten past the first hurdle. “I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm to ask. I’ll call you and let you know.”

“I’d appreciate it very much, Mrs. O’Hara. Thank you.”

Nancy hung up, wondering if she could really count on Mrs. O’Hara’s help.

She glanced at the clock behind the sergeant’s desk. The afternoon seemed to be crawling by, and sitting around doing nothing made it feel that much longer. She wanted to get to work on her father’s case immediately.

Nancy turned to the reporter. “Ann, I need to know everything that’s happened so far. How about filling me in?”

“Sure.” Ann sat down on a bench and crossed her long legs. “I got an anonymous tip to check out the Mid-City Insurance Company. I found out that there was no such company. The address was a room about the size of a coffin, with a girl who answered the phone. Connie something.”

“I don’t know anything about insurance companies,” Nancy admitted. “But what’s wrong with using an answering service?”

“Not only did Mid-City not have an office anywhere,” Ann said, “they had no insurance agents.”

“I don’t get it,” Nancy said.

“Someone who said he represented Mid-City Insurance hired Connie’s answering service to take their calls. Once a day the man phoned for messages. If Connie received any mail, she was to send it on to a post office box. She said they got one large envelope once a week. That was it.”

“Didn’t she think that was odd?”

Ann snorted. “What did she care? It was a cushy job, and she was being paid well.”

Bess looked thoughtful. “Maybe I should start an answering service.”

“Why not?” Ann said. “Anybody can. Anyway, by tracing who paid Connie, and then tracing the post office box, I finally stumbled onto the parent corporation. That was where several names popped up. Names I’d seen before-all tied to organized crime and all on the board of directors of Mid-City.”

Bess sat down. “It does sound suspicious, but I have to admit I can’t see what they were doing wrong,” she said.

“I couldn’t, either, at first. But I managed to sneak a look at the message log Connie kept on Mid-City. All the calls to Mid-City were from three local businesses.”

“So?” Bess asked.

“There were only calls from these three.”

“Oh,” Nancy said. “You figured at that point that they were paying their premiums to a company that didn’t exist. And that’s when you wrote the articles.”

“Right. And they launched the grand jury investigation.”

“And you testified?”

“I gave them everything I had and was thanked for my cooperation. They dismissed me. Didn’t even press for the name of my source-not then, anyhow.”

“Why’d they change their minds about wanting to know your source?” Ned asked.

Ann looked bewildered. “I’m not sure. I had put the Mid-City thing behind me and was following up a lead on something else. Then someone left a message at the Record for me to go talk to a woman out at Crimson Oaks-that retirement village on Wilson Avenue. It was about Mid-City.”

“Who was she? Why were you supposed to see her?” Nancy asked.

“I never found out. I was just leaving to see her when this man came in and slapped the court order in my hand.”

“The grand jury dismissed you and then issued the court order?” Nancy asked with a puzzled frown.

“Yes. I haven’t gotten anything done since.”

“What did you tell the grand jury this last time?” Ned asked the reporter.

“Nothing. I don’t know who gave me that tip to check out Mid-City. Even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell them. They recessed to give me time to think about it.”

Bess’s eyes widened. “What are you going to do now?”

“Stand behind my First Amendment rights, which imply that a reporter does not have to reveal a source. If it means going to jail, I go to jail.”

Nancy stared at her hands. What Ann had told her was interesting-but interesting enough to frame her father? Someone obviously thought so. And I have to find out who, she mused.

It was late in the afternoon when Carson Drew finally appeared. His face was taut and grim. “Hi, everybody. Sorry it took so long.”

“What’s happened?” Nancy asked anxiously.

“I’ve been arraigned and made bail. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had my fill of this place for one day.”

“What comes next, Carson?” Ann asked as they left the building.

“A pretrial hearing to decide if the evidence is strong enough for me to be bound over for trial. They’ll let me know as soon as a date is set.” He drew in a deep breath of fresh air. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow. All I want to do now is go home. Ann will need a ride,” he said to Nancy.

“Just to the Record,” the reporter said. “If it’s not out of your way.”

Nancy dropped off Bess and Ned and headed for the newspaper. Her father was silent during the whole drive.

When they reached the Morning Record, Ann directed her to the parking lot behind the office, where a battered old Ford was parked against the rear wall. Nancy pulled up behind it.

Carson Drew unbuckled his seat belt and got out. “I’ll call you in the morning,” he said, helping Ann from the back seat. “We’ll see this thing through together.” He shook her hand, then stood watching as she walked toward her own car.

“Whatever I can do, I’ll do,” Ann answered earnestly. “Thanks, Nancy. Hope to see you again soon.”

The sky was dark by then; the parking lot dimly lit. There were only a half-dozen cars on the lot, and none parked near the reporter’s.

Moving with a long-legged stride to the old Ford, Ann dug into her purse for her key and stuck it into the lock. She seemed to have difficulty getting it to work, so Nancy flipped on her brights, hoping it would help.

The beam brought Ann’s car into sharp focus. Just under the grimy tailpipe of the Ford Nancy noticed a small square box, so shiny and bright that the Mustang’s headlights bounced off it. It was much too clean to have been attached to the car for long. What could it be? Nancy wondered.

“Got it,” Ann called as the key finally turned.

“Ann! No!” Nancy acted without thought for her own safety. She wrenched open her door and hit the asphalt running. Ann stared at her in amazement.

Without breaking stride, Nancy hurled herself forward and tackled Ann around the waist. They landed just a few feet from the car.

Nancy’s timing had been perfect. With a deafening roar, the old Ford exploded in an enormous ball of flame.