River heights celebration parade, finally

Outside the gymnasium, the parade was about to begin.

“Finally,” a man said, calling from the street. He stood with his family, excited about the parade. He tapped his two kids on the shoulders, getting their attention, and pointed in our direction. One by one the crowd saw the parade gathering and about to begin, and they cheered and clapped, preparing for us to pass by them on the street.

The band lined up in front of the float, testing their instruments, running scales and adjusting their River Heights High School uniforms and fuzzy hats. The crowds continued to line up along the street, waving banners and eating their carnival food — big pretzels, fro-yo, funnel cakes, hot dogs, caramel popcorn, and cot- ton candy. Little kids blew whistles and danced in the street, impatient for the parade to begin.

Dad and Mr. Nickerson stood together, with Ned nearby. They wore concerned looks on their faces, but they didn’t know about the torn dress and graffiti threats, so hopefully they weren’t as scared as Lexi. Frankly, at that point, I was fairly scared myself. The whole day had been one crime after another. I knew something was going to happen. We all did, but neither the chief nor Mara would listen to us, so all we could do was be prepared.

Mr. Steele and Chief McGinnis waited near the entrance to the gymnasium, overseeing the last-minute lineup and roll call of the parade participants. Mr. Steele seemed distracted by Mara Stanfield; he didn’t take his eyes off her while she fixed Lexi’s hair and adjusted her new dress. Chief McGinnis kept one eye on the group of us. I couldn’t believe he thought I might be the one behind the notes and stolen money. On one hand, I understood where he was coming from; it was true that every time a crime was committed, I was there. But he knew me better than that. I looked forward to proving my innocence to him, not that I needed to in any real sense, but if that was what it was going to take to get him to listen to the evidence that George, Bess, and I had uncovered today, then so be it.

Deirdre and Josh held hands and sat on the curb. I wondered if his parents had found out about his car accident yet, or if the driver of the other car had found his note.

“Nancy, I’m really scared,” said Lexi, standing next to me as we climbed the stairs of the float. Lexi took her place on the throne, sitting among the flowers and glitter.

“I know you’re scared, Lexi, but look,” I said. “Bess will be on the float with us too. I’ll sit on the front of the float, and she’ll be right behind the throne. This way we can keep an eye on everything in front of us and everything behind us.”

“Where will Officer Rees be?” she asked.

“He will be in the driver’s seat at the very back, monitoring the speed.”

“And George?” Lexi asked.

“George is going to walk along the parade route next to us. She’ll keep an eye on the spectators. You’re well surrounded, Lexi.” I looked up as Mara Stanfield clapped her hands for us all to get in our positions. “Also, if you see or hear anything that doesn’t seem right, just tell Bess or me and we’ll take care of it.”

Lexi smiled and sat back. As she did, the crowd began to cheer and clap again. The band played one of their songs and marched in perfect time with one another. The float engine rumbled as Officer Rees turned the ignition and moved the float into position behind the band. Lexi sat on her throne, waving and smiling as flowers were thrown from the crowd and landed on the deck of the float.

Before George and Bess got into position, I pulled them aside for a last-minute pep talk and game plan.

“Okay, girls. We all know that something is going to happen during the parade, so let’s keep our eyes sharp.”

“Are we sure something will happen?” asked Bess.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I just think we’ve spent so much time on the stolen money and the notes,” Bess said, “that I’m wondering if we might be making this into a bigger issue than it actually is, you know. Like maybe we’re creating this drama.”

“There has been way too much evidence,” George said. “Nancy is right. Something is going to happen, and we have to be alert. Lexi is only following through on this parade because Mara wouldn’t cancel it.”

“Bess,” I said, “I totally understand your concerns. So if you feel like I’m overreacting and don’t want to have a part in any of this, please feel free to sit back with the spectators and enjoy the parade.”

“George,” said Bess, “do you think all these incidents are linked together somehow?” I was sure she was asking her cousin this question as a way to get reassurance.

“I do,” George said. “I believe we’ve been right all day long. I believe everything is connected and that we’re close to finding out who is behind it all.”

“Okay. I’m in,” said Bess. “I’m just nervous and want everything and everyone to be safe.”

“Which is why we’re going to ride along with the float. Bess, you double-check all the alterations one last time to make sure nothing new has changed. When you’re ready, sit behind the throne and watch the float from behind.”

“You got it, Nancy,” she said.

“George, you walk on the ground next to the float. Keep an eye on the crowd and make sure no one and nothing comes at us from the sides.”

“No problem, Nancy,” she said.

“Let’s stay in touch by cell phones too. Call me if you see something peculiar. And if you do see something, whatever you do, don’t let Mara, Chief McGinnis, or Lexi know about it. Let’s try and handle it ourselves.”

Bess walked around the float, testing the railings again, and the platform in front of the throne. The paint was still wet, but that wasn’t too big of an issue, as it was mostly covered by the decorations. Everything seemed to be safe and as it had been this morning when it was delivered. Bess gave us the thumbs-up and settled in behind the throne as I sat in the front. George took up her position next to us on the ground, and we all waited for the parade to begin its route through River Heights.

The banner above Lexi’s throne flapped in the slight breeze. It read:

Lexi Claremont

Daughter of River Heights

My cell phone rang almost right away. I pulled it out and saw that it was George, who was walking to my left and was at the very back of the float.

“Nancy,” she said.

“Everything okay?”

“It’s hard to see into the crowd. There are too many people. And most of them have balloons and foam fingers and food. It’s going to be difficult to see anyone coming at us.”

“Don’t worry. Just do the best you can and keep in touch with me,” I said. My phone beeped — it was Bess calling on the other line. I put George on hold and clicked over to Bess.

“What’s up, Bess?” I said.

“Everything okay with George?”

“Yeah, I think so. She’s having a tough time dealing with the crowd. Too much movement and too many people. Why?”

“I saw someone on the other side, someone I’ve never seen before. He looked suspicious to me. You know how we know pretty much everyone in River Heights, or at least know what they look like?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t know this guy.”

“One second,” I said, as I clicked on conference call and connected all three of us together.

“Bess. George,” I said. “Are you all on the line?”

“Here,” said Bess.

“Here,” said George.

“Great. Bess, repeat to George what you just said to me. What do you see?” I asked.

“There’s a man walking along the sidewalk with the float. He’s behind the crowd lined along the curb, and he’s walking in step with the float. I’ve never seen him before. Not a local.”

“Which side?” asked George.

“Right side,” Bess said.

George ran behind the float to the right side and scoured the crowd for a man walking with the float in the crowd, but she didn’t see anyone. She walked right up to the crowd, then through the crowd. She passed a group of kids dancing to the band’s music and pushed her way through a sea of white and blue balloons. She reached the sidewalk behind the parade watchers and was now observing the float from the spectators’ position. She spun around, looking in all directions.

“I don’t see anyone strange,” she said. “Just kids and parents.”

“He’s by the tree now. He keeps staring at the float,” Bess said.

George looked toward the next tree and finally saw the man.

“The man in the red cap?” George asked.

“Yes,” Bess said.

“Why didn’t you say he was wearing a red hat? That is a pretty clear descriptive item,” said George.

“Be careful over there, George,” I said.

George approached the man cautiously. She followed him for a bit, watching him carefully. She looked around to see if he was communicating with anyone else,

if he had any accomplices. She didn’t notice anyone else. Finally the man slowed down, and she walked up to him, and tapped him on the shoulder. As he turned around, we all noticed that he was holding a child in his arms. The child was holding a balloon and saying, “Follow the float, Daddy. Follow the float.”

“Yes,” the man said to George.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you were someone else.” George pulled back from the man and spoke into her cell phone. “False alarm. Bess and Nancy, this situation was a false alarm. He was holding a child.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Better that it’s a false alarm than something worse.”

“Sorry, Nancy,” said Bess. “Like I said, I’m just very nervous and couldn’t see the kid from here. I guess I’m a little on edge.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “We’re all on edge. Honestly, it’s better this way.”

The spectators tossed more and more bouquets of flowers onto the deck of the float as it passed them. Lexi waved to the crowds, smiling and blowing kisses to them. I kept ducking as the flowers piled up all around me and flew past my head. Everything seemed to be going okay, and it looked like the parade was going to go on without any incident. I leaned back and relaxed more than I had all day and found myself waving and smiling at the crowds too. The parade was fun again, and I could tell from all the smiling faces in the crowd that it was an important part of the carnival festivities. I was glad to have listened to Mara.

Then the float jolted forward, lurching and shaking in tremors, like an earthquake. The engine growled, shaking the foundation of the float itself. The float stopped moving as the band continued to march on, not knowing that the float had stalled and stopped dead in its tracks. Although stopped, the float continued to emit horrible growls and whines. Then there was a sound like a hiss as the shaking increased.

“Everything okay back there?” I asked Bess.

“Other than all the shaking and noise?” Bess asked. “I don’t think this is so good.”

“George, anything?” I asked.

“Nothing. Everything seems okay from here. The float is just not moving, and we can’t hear the noises out here. I can hear them on the phone, but out here, it just looks like you guys stopped the float.”

I stood and walked back to Lexi, who had a frightened look on her face even though she kept waving and blowing kisses as the flowers continued to pile up around her. I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I am going to check on Officer Rees and make sure everything is okay with the engine.”

“Please do,” she said. “And hurry back.”

I passed Bess and walked along the edge of the float to Officer Rees, who was struggling with the ignition. He looked up and saw me. He looked as pale and white with fear as Lexi.

“Nancy, I don’t know what happened. It just got jammed. The engine’s still running, but the wheels aren’t moving.”

“Can you shut the engine off?” I asked.

“That’s the weird thing. It won’t shut off,” he said. “You know how you can shut a car’s engine off? This is supposed to work the same exact way, but it won’t do that. Something’s wrong here.”

This was the moment I knew my prediction was about to come true. Between the noise and Officer Rees’ description of the engine problems, it was only a matter of time before the float experienced greater issues.

“I’m going to grab Lexi and get off the float,” I said. “We need to get off the float. You too. Get up and move.” I turned to Bess and Lexi and yelled, “EVERYONE OFF THE FLOAT.” But before I had a chance to reach them, George cried out over the phone.

“FIRE,” she said. “FIRE. There’s a fire on the float. Get off, Nancy. Bess, get off. Fire. Fire. Fire.”

Bess shouted almost immediately afterward, “FIRE. FIRE.”

Black smoke appeared as if out of nowhere, pouring out from underneath the float, billowing up into the air. I could hear the crowd calling out and acknowledging the fire, screaming and running in all directions. I made my way past Bess, who was still crouched down behind the throne. Blue and red flames appeared along the banister. The fresh coat of paint that was still wet caught fire fast. The flames spread quickly, circling the entire float, trapping us onboard. Lexi, Officer Rees, Bess, and I met in the middle of the float on the platform, keeping our distance from the heat and the flames.

“I knew this would happen. I knew something bad would happen. Oh, Nancy, do something. Help us, please,” said Lexi.

“Nancy,” Bess said, “we need to do something. We’re trapped!”

I looked out over the crowd which was dispersing and scrambling in all directions, and made eye contact with George, who was still on the phone with me.

“George, go to the nearest food stand and grab a fire extinguisher,” I said. “Every table should have one. Hurry. Please.”

“Will do, Nancy,” she said. “Sit tight.” She quickly ran and got a fire extinguisher from the closest stand, then ran back to the float faster than ever. All the running she’d done from location to location today seemed to have prepared her for this very moment. She took a running start at the float before tossing the fire extinguisher over the banister like one of the bouquets of flowers. We all stepped back as it landed with a loud thud next to us. I picked it up, removed the pin, and squeezed the handle. White fire extinguisher foam doused the fire along the banister.

Nearby, I saw more white foam blasting the fire. As it settled and cleared, I could see that it was Ned and Dad helping to put out the flames.

“I’m here, Nancy,” Ned called. “We’re going to get you all off the float soon.”

Ned and Dad continued to hose down the float from the street as I did from the deck of the float until the fire department arrived. Firefighters in full gear climbed aboard the float with their masks and hoses and axes and put out the remaining fire. They kicked out one of Bess’s banisters and made a safe exit for us off the float and onto the ground, lifting us one by one down to the street.

All our parents had been watching from the crowd and ran to us, wrapping us up in hugs and many kisses. Dad was there too with Mrs. Gruen.

“Oh, Nancy,” Dad said. “I was so scared. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m okay, but I knew this would happen. I tried to get Mara Stanfield to cancel the parade, but she wouldn’t do it. Neither would the chief. No one wanted to listen to me. But I was right all along.”

“Well, it’s over now,” he said.

Mrs. Gruen kissed me on the cheek and handed me a bottle of water to drink to clear out the smoke from my throat. “Drink this, sweetie,” she said. “It will help you to breathe.”

“I demand that you stop working on this investigation immediately, Nancy,” said Dad. “This has gotten far too dangerous for you to pursue. It is not child’s play anymore. This is for the police to handle.”

“But Dad —,” I said, but he wouldn’t listen to me at all.

“No. Stop. I care too much about your safety,” he said. “You’ve obviously stumbled onto something dangerous. Someone doesn’t like that you know as much as you do. Let’s go find Chief McGinnis. You can tell him everything you know and then leave it all alone. Okay? Will you do that for me? Please?”

“Let’s find Chief, Dad,” I said. “He wanted to talk with you and me anyway. He thinks that I might have something to do with the stolen money.”

“Seriously, Carson, this is out of hand,” Mrs. Gruen said. “She’s a teenager. This is all too much for a teenager to handle. Theft. Fire. No, no, no. Too much.”

The float was doused in water by the fire department and the engine finally shut down. The decorations were burnt black and the flowers turned to ash. Lexi looked dazed as she gave her statement to the police, who had just arrived. They were interviewing everyone on the float as well as spectators who’d witnessed the fire erupt. Mara Stanfield came running over to us in tears, her purse still in her hands.

“Lexi, my goodness, I am so sorry. I had no idea,” she said. “I’m so glad you are okay.”

“Nancy warned you,” said Lexi. “And you didn’t listen. I’m wondering if you didn’t have something to do with the fire yourself.”

Chief McGinnis arrived on the scene and overheard this exchange. He whispered something into a policewoman’s ear as she began to wrangle us all together — Bess, George, myself, Ned, Lexi, and Mara.

“I want to see all of you in the gymnasium right now. No questions. No answers. I have had it up to here,” he said, raising his hand up to his head, “with all the lies and deception I’ve seen around here today. This was supposed to be a fun-filled day of celebration. It’s the River Heights Celebration, after all. Now there are fires, stolen money, threats, mysterious notes. Well, no more. It ends right now.”

“But sir,” Mara said, but she was interrupted.

“No. Listen to me now. Everyone in the gym,” he said. “We are going to get to the bottom of this. Because I think I know who is responsible.” He looked at me and smiled.

“Her?” Mark Steele said, having just arrived. “Nancy Drew? Really, Chief.”

Chief McGinnis didn’t respond, which seemed to be a good enough answer for Mr. Steele, as he smiled too.

“Good thing you’re an attorney, Carson,” said Mr. Steele. “Looks like your little girl is going to need good representation, since Chief here thinks she’s behind all the crimes today. The fire. The sabotage. And the stolen cash box money. Funny how she was conveniently around when all of these things happened.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I couldn’t believe what they were all saying. Of course I wasn’t behind the crimes. Why would I set fire to a float that I was on myself? Why would I steal money from my boyfriend, Ned? This was all so ludicrous. I had to find a way to prove my innocence.

PRADA PURSE EVIDENCE

“I am completely innocent,” I said as I sat down on the bleachers next to George and Bess. Ned sat behind me with Lexi Claremont. Deirdre Shannon and her boyfriend, Josh, arrived too, keeping mostly to themselves at the end of the bleachers. Josh still looked a little green, either from all that food or fear of his parents finding out about his car accident. Mara Stanfield sat by herself in front of me, clutching her purse tight in her hands. She kept shaking her head in disbelief, at the fire on the float, at the torn dress, at being accused of stealing the ticket booth money. Mr. Nickerson, Mrs. Gruen, and my dad stood next to the bleachers, too nervous to sit down, as Mark Steele and Chief McGinnis paced in front of all of us. Mr. Steele had a perpetual frown on his face today. So many things had gone wrong that I was sure he was going to flip out on us.

“I really have nothing to do with any of this,” I said again.

“Listen to her, Mark,” Dad said. “You know Nancy. She’s a good kid. You know deep down she had nothing to do with the fire. She didn’t steal the money. She isn’t writing the notes.”

“Well, we’re not so sure about that anymore,” Mr. Steele said.

“How can you blame me for these crimes when I’m investigating them?” I queried. “I have information that links the criminal to all three — the fire, the missing money, and the threatening notes.”

“A child investigating crime? Who ever heard of

such a thing?” asked Mr. Steele, laughing.

“Preposterous.”

Dad, George, Ned, and Bess all looked at me, clearly nervous too.

“Enough,” Chief McGinnis said. “This has gotten too far out of hand. Too dangerous. Too many people running around trying to help solve the mystery.”

“But Chief,” I said, “I didn’t steal the money. I didn’t start the fire. I didn’t write any of those notes. You have to believe me.”

He held up his hand and slowed me like a crossing guard holding up a sign. He nodded his head. “I know,” he said. “Nancy Drew, you are not responsible for any of the crimes.”

“What?” Mr. Steele said, confused. “But you said it was her. You said she was to blame.”

“No,” Chief said. “I said I knew who was responsible, and I looked at Nancy, but I never said her name. Do not jump to conclusions, please.”

I was not entirely sure why Mark Steele seemed to want to see me get in trouble for all of this. Maybe he just wanted it all to be solved and made to disappear, whether I was the real culprit or not.

“Nancy Drew did not commit any of these crimes,” Chief McGinnis said.

“Thank goodness,” Mrs. Gruen chimed in from the back of the room, fanning herself with her hand.

“But I do want to hear what evidence you were able to uncover,” Chief continued. “I have some information myself, and I think before I reveal what I know, I would like to hear what you know.” He stepped back and welcomed me up to stand next to him and present my information to the group.

“Well,” I said, “I had a few suspects early on, each with peculiar circumstances, but none with a real motive. I examined Deirdre and Josh for a bit and thought they were some kind of team, working together to steal the money and plant the notes.”

“Hey,” Deirdre said angrily. “How dare you, Nancy Drew!”

“But I needed to ask myself, what would they have to gain?” I said. “And the answer is nothing. They would gain nothing at all. It was not them.”

Deirdre and Josh smiled at me.

“Thanks,” said Deirdre.

“Then I thought maybe it was Joshua Andrews, the baker,” I said. “Mr. Steele here refused to rent him a food stand, so the motive existed. Mr. Andrews was angry that he couldn’t participate in the carnival, so perhaps he decided to sabotage it. With fire. With notes. By stealing the money. But the only problem was that it would have been impossible for him to have done all those things and been at his bakery in town.”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Gruen said. “I saw him this morning.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Mrs. Gruen saw Mr. Andrews at his bakery at the same time that Ned claims the ticket booth money was stolen. Mr. Nickerson saw him at the bakery too.”

“What about Ned Nickerson, then?” said Mr. Steele.

“That is just ridiculous,” Ned said, sitting forward in his seat. “We already went through this. I didn’t steal anything.”

“Not my boy,” Mr. Nickerson said.

“Correct. Also, impossible,” I said. “First of all, where would Ned have hidden the money if he had stolen it, and more important, when would he have had the time to hide it? Between opening the ticket booth and assisting all his unexpected callers and visitors, when would he have found time to leave the ticket booth and hide the money away? Besides, Josh, Deirdre, and Mara each claim to have stopped by and had an interaction with Ned. This proves that he never left.”

“All right, Nancy,” Chief McGinnis said. “Thank you for the recap, but what is the evidence that you discovered?”

“I discovered smudges on the notes,” I said, “that looked different from the ink the notes were written in, so I asked George to use her new scientific machine to examine the elemental makeup of the smudges.”

“What was the smudge?” Chief McGinnis asked.

“Ballaster Ink,” I said.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” asked Mr. Steele.

Mr. Nickerson cleared his throat and raised his hand like he was in a classroom, waiting to be called on by the teacher.

“Yes,” Chief said, pointing at him.

“Allow me to explain Ballaster Ink,” he said. “As publisher of the River Heights Bugle, I am constantly looking for ways to compete with the bigger national daily newspapers. One of the ways in which I am able to do this is by using a less expensive ink for my newspaper. Ballaster Ink. There are many daily, weekly, and monthly newspapers that use this ink in their pages. The only downside is that it comes off on your fingers more easily than regular ink.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I follow,” Chief McGinnis said.

“Whoever is writing the notes, whoever ripped up Lexi’s dress, they read a lot of these smaller newspapers,” I said. “The ink comes off easier onto your fingers. No matter how much you wash your hands, the ink is difficult to get off. Which is why we found the smudges on the notes and on the dress.”

“So you were able to tie the notes and the dress together, but how are we supposed to tie those to the money and the fire?” Mark Steele said.

“The notes threatened future sabotage, ever since yesterday, in fact. The notes even mentioned the parade,” I said. “So the fact that the notes specifically warned us that more sabotage would take place, and then it did, only proves the connection.”

“Interesting,” Chief McGinnis said.

“And finally,” I said, “one of you here is responsible for this annoying nickname.”

“What’s wrong with Fancy Nancy?” Mark Steele asked.

Even Mr. Steele knew about it. I couldn’t have been more frustrated.

“One of you is responsible for telling people to call me this name. And I want to know who it is.”

“Thank you, Fancy Nancy, for the evidence.” Chief smirked. “However, I have al- ready decided who the criminal is, and it saddens me to have to tell you.”

“Who is it?” I asked.

We all looked at one another, passing glances and worried expressions. Any one of us could have been accused of these crimes. Chief paced back and forth in front of the bleachers, finally stopping in front of Mara Stanfield.

“Mara?” asked Mr. Steele. “No.”

“It wasn’t me,” she said. “No, I didn’t do it.”

“Yes,” Chief said. “I am sorry to say, but Mara Stanfield is the thief, the author of the notes, and the arsonist.”

Mark Steele marched over to Mara, shaking his head in disgust. He put his hands on his hips and stared at her. I could tell he wanted to believe her, to believe that she didn’t do it, but he seemed to be exhausted with all the trouble and ready to accept the chief’s findings.

“Mara,” Mr. Steele said, “I suggest that you resign as president of the board of the Daughters of River Heights association.”

“Mark,” she said. “I’m telling the truth here. I didn’t do any of these things.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have listened to my gut instinct. I always had a feeling you were involved. Let me ask you this one question: Why didn’t you listen to Nancy when she asked you to stop the parade?”

“Why didn’t you listen to Nancy?” she asked. “She’s been running around this carnival all day, asking questions and poking her nose where it doesn’t belong, but you never listened to her either.”

“I believe I just finished listening to her,” he said. “Why don’t you just resign gracefully? This will avoid any negative press.”

“This is absurd,” she said. “You have no proof of any of this. I am calling an emergency board meeting. I have no obligation to resign, especially without any evidence. I am utterly shocked and insulted at these horrible accusations.” Mara dug through her purse for her phone, but had difficulty finding it and continued to root and root for it. “I mean, setting fire to our float? With students aboard? Are you serious? What kind of person do you take me for anyway?”

“A guilty person,” Mr. Steele said.

“Mara,” said Chief, “you are the only one connected to all aspects of these incidents. You were seen at the ticket booth this morning. You are the president of the Daughters of River Heights Association and the head of the parade committee. You were there when the dress was destroyed. And you’ve been seen around the food court area, in the vicinity of the notes.”

“So have a lot of us,” she said, her hand sliding in and out of purse pockets, still looking for her cell phone. “What would my motive be?”

“You wanted to head up the carnival committee and oversee everything, but Mark Steele stood in your way,” Chief said. “If you sabotaged his carnival in every way possible, then you would be put in charge next year in place of Mark. If you were lucky, you would be instated this year, replacing Mark immediately.”

“This is absolutely insane,” she said, standing to leave. “I will not sit here and listen to this any longer. Why can’t I find my phone?” Just then her purse fell to the floor. The contents spilled out across the gymnasium floor — a bundle of cash wrapped in a blue note.

The room was uncomfortably quiet as we all stared at the cash. Chief McGinnis pulled a rubber band off the wad and unfolded the blue note. Black smudges were smeared all over the paper. Chief counted out the cash and looked up when he finished. He handed the cash over to Mark Steele.

“Mark, I believe this is exactly the amount that was stolen — three hundred and fifty dollars,” Chief said.

“My, oh, my,” said Mr. Steele. “Why, it is the missing money. Thank you, Chief.” He smiled at the chief, then at me. “Sorry for the accusation, Nancy.”

“I don’t understand this,” Mara said, still rifling through her purse. “Why can’t I find any of my belongings in here? Where is my cell phone? Where is my wallet? Where are my car keys?”

“Mara Stanfield,” Chief said, “you are under arrest for petty larceny, arson, and terrorizing River Heights with threats.”

“Chief, you have to believe me. I don’t know where that money came from. It wasn’t me. I swear to you, it wasn’t me,” she said, pleading.

“The evidence doesn’t lie,” Chief McGinnis said, pulling out handcuffs and slap- ping them onto her wrists behind her back, exposing her fingers.

“Wait,” I yelled from the bleachers. “Look at her fingers.”

“Why would we do that?” Chief said.

“They’re clean. She doesn’t have any black ink on them,” I said. “The person we’re looking for will have hands stained with black ink.”

“Honestly,” Mark Steele said. “Chief, are you seriously going to take investigative advice from Nancy Drew? She probably washed them really well not too long ago.”

“Watch it, Mark,” said Chief.

Suddenly Bess shrieked. Everyone jumped from shock and turned to look at her as she threw herself to the ground, rifling through Mara Stanfield’s purse.

“It’s a fake,” said Bess. “It’s a fake. It’s a fake.”

“What do you mean?” George asked.

“And there are smudges inside the purse,” Bess said.

“Can someone please explain to me what is going on?” said Chief.

“Earlier today I saw that Mara was carrying a very expensive purse. A Prada purse,” Bess said. “Do you know how high-end the brand Prada is, Chief?”

“I am vaguely aware of the name,” he said. “It is very expensive. Continue.”

“Well, then you also know how it is spelled. And this is definitely not a Prada purse,” said Bess.

“How do you know?” Mr. Steele asked.

Bess held up the purse to show everyone the inside — Pradi. Black smudges were visible along the lining too.

“How is it that her purse has black smudges all over it, but her fingers don’t? How is it that she couldn’t find her cell phone, or wallet, but the ticket booth money was tied up neatly in a stack, covered by a blue note?” I said. “Someone is trying to frame Mara for this.”

“Impossible,” Mr. Steele said.

“I believe the evidence is pointing you in a different direction, Chief,” said Dad.

“Who was your source of information who said Mara was responsible for all of this?” George asked.

“I received an anonymous phone call. Whoever it was said that Mara Stanfield was to blame for the crimes today and that proof could be found in her purse,” said Chief. “It does seem a little too tidy.”

“Don’t you think that I would have hidden the money away somewhere if I had stolen it, so that it wasn’t in my purse all day?” Mara asked. “And why would I have paid for float alterations, if I was just going to torch it?”

“Chief,” I said. “I don’t mean any disrespect here, but I believe that you’ve ar- rested the wrong person. Mara is innocent.”

Chief looked at me and the rest of us, before grabbing the handcuffs still snapped onto Mara’s wrists and walking her out of the gymnasium and into the back of his squad car. We followed them outside and watched as Mara began to cry. She looked at me through the window and mouthed the words, Please help me.

“Nancy,” George said. “We have to do something.”

“I know,” I said.

“But what?” Bess asked. “Chief has made up his mind. They found the cash in Mara’s possession.”

“We need to find more evidence,” I said. “There has to be something. There’s no way that Mara is responsible for any of it.”

“Not even your new name?” Bess said.

“Not even the name that drives me crazy,” I said.

BRAND-NEW DAY

None of the evidence pointed to Mara. Sure, the ticket booth money was found in her purse. Yes, she had motive. Absolutely, she had access to all the crime scenes — the ticket booth, the food court, Lexi’s dress, and the parade float. And because of all those things and the fact that Chief McGinnis found the bundle of cash wrapped in a blue note in her purse, she’d been arrested and was sitting in the back of a police car.

Aly Stanfield, Mara’s daughter, stood next to the police car, her hand on the window. Mara’s hand was up too, pressed against the glass. Aly cried, never moving her hand.

“Mom,” she said. “What can I do to get you out of here?”

“It’s okay, baby,” Mara said. “This is just a misunderstanding.”

“But what can I do? There has to be something I can do to get you out of here. Chief McGinnis is wrong.”

“He is wrong, baby. But it will all be okay.”

I overheard their conversation and eased my way between them.

“Mara. Aly. I just might have an idea,” I said.

“What’s that?” Aly asked, removing her hand from the glass of the window.

“Bess and I know that the purse wasn’t yours. We saw yours earlier today — the Prada purse. This one clearly said Pradi on it, but Chief wouldn’t know the difference in a million years.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Mara asked.

“That we find the other purse. That we find your purse. It has to be around here somewhere.”

“What a good idea,” Aly said.

“I just don’t know where it could be,” said Mara.

“Well, when was the last time you saw your purse? Or when was the last time that you left your purse unattended? My thought is that whoever is doing all this sabotage tried to frame you. The perpetrator loaded you up with evidence and hung you out to dry. However, the criminal still had to have handled your real purse. It has to be somewhere.”

Mara thought for a minute. Then said, “The fro-yo stand.”

“That’s right,” said Aly. “You stopped by to give me money for the rides and left your purse behind the table with the girls.”

“Could it have been Deirdre?” I asked. Suddenly Deirdre’s name had popped up again. She had access to the purse and the ticket booth money and the blue notes, but the idea of Deirdre Shannon taking on the role of supervillain just didn’t feel right.

“No,” Aly said. “Deidre disappeared around the time that you showed up at the fro-yo stand this morning. I’ve seen her around the carnival, but she never came back to help out.”

“What did you do with the money I gave you this morning?” Mara asked. “You said you needed it for rides, but I don’t think I saw you get on any.”

“Don’t be mad,” said Aly. “You always get mad about this.”

“Aly, what did you do?” Mara asked.

“I went to see Lucia Gonsalvo.”

Mara dropped her head forward, frustrated. She looked at me and glared, like she was mad that I’d let Aly go to Ms. Gonsalvo. For all intents and purposes, Lucia Gonsalvo was the local psychic and owner of the Psychic’s Parlor in town. She looked exotic, as one would imagine a psychic to look, but she had also lived in River Heights ever since I could remember. Dad had actually represented her once in a legal case with her landlord. He’d been able to sort out her issue amicably without having to take it to court. I wondered if she psychically saw that Carson Drew could help her resolve her problems and that was why she used him.

Lucia Gonsalvo had a tiny tent at the carnival, and often there were small lines of people waiting outside, anxious to meet with her. Most of the time, her clients at the carnival were out-of-towners or visitors. But occasionally, a few locals would seek her advice. Aly Stanfield, apparently, being one of them.

“What did she say?” Mara asked, adjusting her handcuffed hands in her lap and resting her head against the seat. “Did she foresee that your mother would be arrested by the end of the day?”

“She said that I had important things to do today.”

“Like bail your mommy out of jail,” Mara said.

“And she said that I would be back to see her before the sun went down.”

“Listen,” I said. “I’m going back to the fro-yo stand with Aly to look for your real purse. When the switch took place, I have a feeling that whoever did it had to ditch your real purse right away. So it has to be around there somewhere. In a garbage can or under a table somewhere.”

“Please hurry,” Mara said. “I can’t stand to be here any longer than I have to be. Besides, as soon as Chief McGinnis comes back, he’s going to take me in to the police station.”

I turned to Bess and George and explained the game plan.

“The four of us can cover more ground than just Aly and me. We’re looking for the real Prada purse,” I said. “We have to look everywhere.”

Bess frowned. “Oh, poor Prada purse.”

“What’s wrong now?” asked George.

“It hurts me to think about that poor baby purse being in a dark place some- where,” she said. “Or buried under gross garbage. We need to find her.”

“Let’s just hope that all her personal belongings are still inside. Her car keys. Her wallet. Her cell phone. These will help us to prove beyond a doubt that Mara was framed.”

We headed off together, back into the carnival on a very important specific mission. I felt closer than ever to finding answers, and I believed everything hinged on the real Prada purse.

Back at the fro-yo stand, the four of us ransacked every inch of space. Under the table. Under napkins. On top of the fro-yo machine. Inside the fro-yo machine. In the garbage can. Nothing. We didn’t find the purse — or a single shred of evidence that proved her purse had ever been left there.

Aly and Bess moved outside the stand and checked behind other tables. The candy apple table. The popcorn table. The funnel cake table. Nothing.

George and I left the food court and wandered around the games and rides section of the carnival, checking more trash cans, but we also asked the operators and cash collectors if they had seen anything suspicious, or if they had witnessed anyone hiding or dumping a purse somewhere. No one remembered seeing or hearing anything. Although they had all heard about the drama of the day — missing money, blue notes, dress devastation, and parade float sabotage.

Finally George and I met up with Aly and Bess. We had swept through the entire carnival, searching high and low, left and right for the purse.

“The purse is our only hope,” Aly said, “to prove my mom’s innocence.”

“There has to be another way,” said George.

“George is right,” Bess said. “This can’t be the end of the road. We’ve chased this mystery all day. We’ve been all over the place, investigated so many people. It just can’t end here. It can’t end on a missing purse.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Just hold on. I think I have an idea.” It was then that the greatest and most unorthodox idea popped into my head. “You guys are going to think I’m a little crazy, and I would never use this method under any other circumstances, but since we’ve run out of options, what if we go and see Lucia Gonsalvo?”

“Nancy, are you sure you want to do that?” asked Bess.

“It seems like a long shot, but what do we really have to lose at this point?” George said.

“And she did tell me earlier today that I would be back to see her soon,” Aly said.

“You never know what information she’ll have for us,” I said. “Worst-case scenario is that she tells us absolutely nothing. Best-case scenario is that she gives us a nudge in the right direction.”

The girls looked at one another and thought a minute before agreeing to join the plan. Bess and George smiled, giddy, I thought, about visiting a psychic — something they had never done before.

“Well,” I said. “Is everybody onboard with the idea?”

“Let’s go,” said George.

“Why not,” Bess said.

We walked through the rides and food court sections to a tiny tent on the outskirts of the carnival. Lucia Gonsalvo sat in a rocking chair outside, sipping iced tea. She wore a long brown skirt and a red shoulder wrap, and her hair was wrapped up in a bandanna. As we approached, she stopped rocking and closed her eyes. She turned her face up toward the sky and let the sun’s rays beat down on her as she soaked up the warmth. She inhaled a big breath and exhaled slowly. “Welcome,” she said, her eyes still closed.

“I came back,” Aly said. “Just like you predicted.”

“Yes you did, my child,” she said.

“We were wondering if you would be able to help us,” I said. “We’re trying to solve a mystery and find a purse, but we’ve run out of conventional means to help us. I thought maybe if we came to you, you would be able to help us in some way.”

Ms. Gonsalvo began rocking in her chair again as a black cat ran out from inside the tent and hopped into her lap. She pet the cat from its head down to the tip of its tail, over and over. “You want my help, huh?”

“Yes,” I said. “Very much so.”

“Please,” she said, “follow me.” Ms. Gonsalvo stood, still holding the cat, and walked into her tent. All four of us entered behind her, unsure if what we were doing was brilliant or crazy.

Inside, there was a table with a crystal ball in the center of it and five chairs. We sat down around the table and stared at the crystal ball intensely, like we expected a dragon or monster to climb out of it. Ms. Gonsalvo put the cat back down on the floor and placed her hands on the crystal ball, closing her eyes. She tilted her head back and began chanting nonsensical words.

I knew that I was as nervous as the other girls, having never done something like this before. We all held hands, waiting for Ms. Gonsalvo to give us some insight or information about our case.

“You are looking for a purse,” she said. “But it is missing and you can’t find it. Someone has hidden it from you and you are desperate to find it.”

“Go on,” I said.

“And you have many unanswered questions.”

“We do,” I said. “Can you help us answer some of them?”

“The person you are looking for cannot be found today,” she said. “The person has covered his or her tracks too well. Not even I can see who it is.”

“Can you tell if it’s a man or a woman?” Bess asked.

“I cannot,” she said. “But I can tell you that the purse is where it all began. Go back to the beginning and you will find it.”

“The beginning?” asked Aly. “What does that mean?”

“The beginning of what?” George asked.

“Guys,” I said, nearly jumping out of my seat. “The beginning of this case. Where did it begin?” The girls didn’t catch on. “The ticket booth. It began with the missing ticket booth money.”

“Oh my gosh,” Aly said. “We were just there.”

“The purse is there,” Ms. Gonsalvo said. “Go and you will find it.”

“Is that all you see?” I asked.

“That is all,” she said.

I slid ten dollars across the table to her, and we stood to leave the tent. As we reached the opening, she called out to us.

“Wait,” she said. “He is close.”

“Who is close?” I said.

“The person you are looking for,” she said. “He is close.”

“It’s a guy. We’re looking for a guy?” I asked.

“But I can’t make out his face. He has ink on his fingers. He stole the money. He stole the purse. He wrote the notes. He sabotaged the float.”

“Who is it?” Bess blurted out.

“I can’t see him,” she said. “But it’s not that I can see him, there is something telling me about this.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“There is video footage. A security camera,” she said. “In the school. Check the security camera and you will find him.”

We were about to leave again when Ms. Gonsalvo spoke once more. “Wait. There is one more thing.” She looked at me and pointed. “Fancy Nancy,” she said. “You don’t like it when people call you by that name.”

“No,” I said. “I hate that name. How did you know about that?”

“Speak with Heather. She knows about it,” Ms. Gonsalvo said.

“Heather Harris?” I asked. I looked at Aly to see if she knew anything about this, but she avoided eye contact. “Aly? Do you know something that you’re not telling me?” I looked at George and Bess, who looked away as well. “Girls? Someone needs to fess up here.”

“Heather was mad that you busted her and her blog yesterday, and she wanted to get back at you, so she made fun of the way you dressed at the fro-yo stand. She called you Fancy Nancy,” Aly said. “I heard it from her.”

“I heard it from Aly,” Bess said.

“I heard it from Bess,” said George.

“And who told my dad?” I asked.

“I did,” Bess said. “I asked if Fancy Nancy was there, and he laughed.”

I had bigger things to worry about than that silly name, but I was happy to have gotten to the bottom of that mystery. I thanked Lucia Gonsalvo again as the four of us rushed out of her tent and back to the ticket booth. Mr. Nickerson and Dad were there with Ned. Mr. Steele was speaking with Chief McGinnis.

“I have an important announcement to make,” I said, “and I need everyone to listen.”

“Everyone is listening, dear,” Dad said.

“Chief, if my source is correct, then Mara’s real purse with all her belongings was stolen and replaced by the fake purse. Her real purse was stashed inside the ticket booth.”

“Well, then, let’s open it back up and see for ourselves,” Chief said.

Ned and Mr. Steele walked over to the door of the ticket booth and unlocked it. They both went inside with Chief McGinnis and emerged again almost right away, the chief holding Mara’s real — and according to Bess, very expensive — Prada purse. Chief opened the purse and pulled out a wallet and a cell phone. He opened the wallet and removed Mara’s driver’s license.

“Looks like we have conflicting evidence,” said Chief. “Here’s her real purse, but Nancy, that still doesn’t prove she didn’t take the money in the first place. She could have easily stashed her purse in the ticket booth herself.”

“There is one more piece of evidence,” I said, turning to face Mr. Steele. “Are there surveillance cameras attached to the school?”

“Yes, there are, but none that would have picked up any of the carnival activity,” he said.

“But what about the parking lot? What about the ticket booth?” I asked. “Are there any cameras that would have captured even a little bit of footage?”

He thought for a moment before answering. “Actually, you know, yes. There just might be one camera that picked something up.”

“Well, then, let’s review that tape,” Chief McGinnis said.

In the front office of the school, Chief McGinnis, Mark Steele, Bess, Ned, Mr. Nickerson, Aly Stanfield, and I stood around a television as George operated the video machine. We watched as the sun came up at the beginning of the day and a few cars began to arrive and park in the lot.

“There I am,” Mr. Steele said, pointing to his car parking under a grove of trees.

George fast-forwarded a bit. Then Mr. Steele began to yell for her to stop.

“Wait. Rewind,” he said. “Go back.”

George backed up a bit before stopping again. “Here?”

“Yes,” he said. “Watch.” He pointed at his car again, parked and still. Nothing happened for a few minutes, but then another car came into the picture. I knew right away what was about to happen. It was Josh, Deirdre’s boyfriend. He was backing his parents’ car into the spot when — BAM! — CRASH! — he tore up the side of Mark Steele’s car. Josh ran around both cars, examining the damage. He then ran across the parking lot to the ticket booth, which was in the corner of the camera. He returned minutes later with paper and a pen and left a note on the windshield.

“He hit my car,” Mr. Steele said. “That was my car! How come no one told me that he hit my car?” He paced in the back of the room, holding his head.

We continued to look at the footage and saw Deirdre and Mara both knock on the ticket booth door and speak to someone inside — Ned. They were very far away and difficult to see, but because we had a time line in place already, we knew who we were looking at. It was then that something interesting happened. A fourth person arrived at the ticket booth door, but this person didn’t stand outside like the others. This person entered and exited soon after with the cash box in their hands.

“Did you all see that?” I said.

“We did,” said Chief.

“I can’t make out who it is,” Ned said. “It’s too blurry and too far away.”

“But it is definitely a man,” Chief said.

Mr. Steele turned to Ned. “You told us only three people stopped at the ticket booth this morning. You failed to mention a fourth.”

“Ned, can you please explain?” said Chief.

Ned tuned pale and looked at me.

“Ned made me promise not to say anything, but after Mara stopped by the stand this morning,” I said, “he fell asleep.”

“You what?” Mr. Steele yelled.

“It was early. I was tired. I’m sorry. It’s my fault the money was stolen, but I didn’t steal it. That dude right there did,” Ned said.

George fast-forwarded a while before stumbling on the last piece of the puzzle. “Um, hey, everyone. Look.”

Outside the ticket booth and closer to the camera stood Ned, his dad, and me. We were talking. This was only a few hours ago, and I remembered it well. Behind us, however, was the mysterious man again, carrying a woman’s purse. He snuck back into the ticket booth with the purse and left without it.

“Holy cow,” Ned said. “Did you all see that?”

“It appears that I have arrested the wrong individual,” said Chief.

“Arrest Ned Nickerson,” Mr. Steele said.

“No, Mark,” Chief said. “He didn’t do anything wrong. Sleeping is not a crime. It’s negligent, but not a crime.”

“So what does this mean?” Bess asked.

“It means Mara is innocent. Ned is innocent. Deirdre and Josh are innocent. It means that we still have no idea who stole the money, framed Mara, sabotaged the float, or wrote the notes. But we do know it is a man.”

Everyone was quiet. One by one, we left the front office and headed back to the parking lot, each to our own car, to head home after another long day. I stayed behind and continued to rewind the video footage. Back to the beginning where the thief snuck into the ticket booth and left holding the cash box. I froze the screen and stared at the image.

“Who in the world are you?” I asked. “And why are you doing this?” These questions remained unanswered for now, but I was sure the mystery would soon be solved. “I will find you,” I said. “Just give it time.” I turned off the television and video equipment and headed home. Tomorrow would be a brand-new day.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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