“Maybe that was it,” said Randi suspiciously. Then she shrugged. “Hey, why don’t I interview you about the program now?”
As the girl reached for a pad and pencil, Nancy hastily said, “I’m not the one you want. I just started, I’m only temporary, and I don’t know that much about it. Why don’t you interview Ms. Hathaway or Mr. Friedbinder?”
Randi wrinkled her nose. “They’re not actually working in the tutoring program; you are. I want to get a ground-level view of it.”
“Then the people you ought to talk to—” Suddenly Nancy clapped her hand over her mouth. “Uh-oh, I just remembered, I left someone in the learning lab waiting for a tutoring session!”
Randi was staring at her as if she had lost her mind. Too late Nancy remembered that she’d just told Randi she was meeting a student there at the newspaper office. Luckily, all Randi said was, “Okay, but I still want that interview with you, Nancy Drew.”
Shooting Randi an apologetic smile, Nancy hurried back down the hall.
Suddenly she gasped and stopped short so quickly a guy with a big stack of books under one arm, obviously late to class, walked straight into her. She helped him pick up his books, thinking about what Randi had said.
Randi had called her Nancy Drew—not Nancy Stevens. Somehow she’d uncovered Nancy’s real identity. Randi wasn’t the only one who had addressed her by her full name in the last hour, either. The author of that threatening message had done the same. Walter Friedbinder and Sally Lane were supposed to be the only ones who knew her real name, but if Randi knew, others might, too.
Nancy groaned. It was going to be even more difficult to track down the grade-changer now.
When she reached the learning lab, it was empty. The girl must have gotten impatient and left. Nancy turned on the computer and checked her E-mail. No new messages had come in for her.
“Hey, there,” a familiar voice called from the doorway. “Sharpening your computer skills?”
Nancy turned to see Victor stroll into the room. “Something like that,” Nancy answered him. “Listen, will you excuse me? I have to make a phone call.”
Victor’s face fell, but all he said was, “Sure. I just sneaked out of class to say hi. Catch you later.”
Once he was gone, Nancy dialed the number of the People’s Federal Bank. Harrison Lane came on the line at once.
“Nancy!” he said. “I was just going to call you. Eight hundred dollars that was deposited yesterday in I. Wynn’s account was withdrawn from the Archer Avenue bank machine at eight-thirty this morning.”
“Before school hours,” Nancy noted. “Mr. Lane, is there any way you can program the bank’s computer to alert you the next time somebody tries to make a withdrawal or deposit from that account?”
“That shouldn’t be too hard,” the banker said. “We’ll just put a flag on the account number, with instructions to telephone me when it pops up. We can also tell the computer to take extra time to process any transaction for that account. That way, we’ll have enough time to react to the alarm.”
“Great,” said Nancy. “Can you set it up right away? I don’t want our crook to decide to pull out of this scheme before we have a chance to catch whoever it is.”
“Neither do I,” Lane agreed. “I’ll flag that account the moment we get off the phone.”
“Thanks.” As she hung up, Nancy’s stomach growled, reminding her that it was almost time for lunch.
Nancy’s heart sank when she entered the anteroom separating Phyllis Hathaway’s and Walter’s offices. She’d rushed there after grabbing a quick bowl of soup in the cafeteria, hoping to find Phyllis out to lunch, but apparently the assistant head was eating in that day and was hunched over some papers on her desk. As Nancy watched, Phyllis took a bite from a sandwich, then turned her attention back to her work.
Stepping out of Phyllis’s sight, Nancy leaned against Ms. Arletti’s empty desk to think. She had to get the woman out of there so she could search her office.
As she thought, Nancy became aware of Walter Friedbinder’s voice from inside his office. “Sure, Mel. We’ll talk about it at the staff meeting before the board arrives. . . . Fine. See you then.”
Nancy stood up straight as an idea came to her. A second later she sneaked inside Walter’s office and closed the door behind her.
“What—?” he began when he saw her, but she silenced him by putting a finger to her lips. His gaze was openly dubious, but he waited while Nancy explained in a whisper what she wanted to do.
“So I call Phyllis in here for an emergency meeting, giving you a chance to search her office?” Walter’s intense blue eyes took on a pleased glint. “I’m sure I can handle that.”
“Great,” said Nancy, smiling at him. “I’ll wait out in the hallway until I hear her go into your office. If you can keep her here for ten minutes, that ought to be long enough.”
A few minutes later Nancy slipped into the assistant head’s office and stood with her back to the closed door. In a flash she scanned the room—two filing cabinets, desk, the computer station, a bookcase, and a coatrack with a raincoat on it. She decided to start with Phyllis’s desk, which was against the wall to the left of the door.
Sitting in the desk chair, Nancy glanced through the papers on the desktop, next to the half-eaten tunafish sandwich. They were nothing but notes on an upcoming parents’ visiting day. Next she pulled open the top desk drawer and sifted through a jumble of paper clips, rubber bands, and pens.
Nancy saw nothing that would link Phyllis to I. Wynn or the scam. Nor did she find any clues as to what “plan” Phyllis had meant during her phone conversation with Dana that Nancy had overheard.
A few times Nancy paused to listen but heard only the distant hum of Phyllis and Walter talking in the other office.
Next she tried the file. It was locked, but she easily jimmied it open using the lock-picking kit she always kept in her purse. What is this? she thought, her gaze lighting on a binder that was tucked in among the files. The spine was labeled “Computer Password Logbook.”
Great! Snatching up the binder, she opened it to the first page. It was a chronological listing of the computer passwords. Next to each password was the name of the student to whom it was assigned and the date the password was issued. All of the entries on the page were made in a neat, flowing script, probably Phyllis’s.
Nancy’s head snapped up as she heard a door open and then Phyllis’s voice, loud and clear. “Nonsense, Walter, I have the file in my office. It’ll just take a second to grab it.”
Nancy’s breath caught in her throat, and she slammed the book shut. She could hear Walter objecting, but Phyllis wasn’t paying any attention. Her heels clicked on the floor as she crossed the wooden anteroom.
Nancy checked frantically for somewhere to hide, but there was nothing—no closet, no enclosed space. Unless she could suddenly disappear, Phyllis was going to catch her red-handed!
Chapter Eight
Nancy didn’t have time to think about what to do. Holding the binder to her chest, she slid the file drawer shut, then rushed over to squat in the corner behind the door, on the far side of the desk. A split second later Phyllis’s clicking heels stopped outside the door and the knob was turned.
Nancy held her breath as the door swung in toward her. She stayed low so Phyllis wouldn’t see her silhouette through the frosted glass in the top half of the door. Please leave the door open, Nancy begged silently, and stay on the other side of the room!
She heard a drawer being opened and some papers being rustled over by the desk. Would Phyllis notice the unlocked file drawer or the missing binder?