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“That’d be perfect,” said Nancy. “The kids who need tutoring are likely to be the same ones who’d want their grades changed. Do you think your father can get me into the program?”

“No problem. I’ll talk to him tonight.”

“Okay, call me back when you’ve spoken to him. Thanks for your help, Sally,” Nancy told her. “And remember, don’t talk about this with anyone.”

“My lips are sealed,” Sally assured her.

The next morning Nancy parked her Mustang in a visitor’s slot in the Brewster Academy parking lot and got out. She smoothed her red, black, and white plaid skirt and straightened the collar of her white blouse, then retrieved her attaché case from the back seat. She wasn’t sure what a tutor might wear, but she hoped she looked the part.

Brewster Academy was a two-story gray stone building, with slate-colored shingles and two massive chimneys on either side of the roof. It looked as if it had escaped from a print of a New England town. The school was beautiful, but that didn’t change the fact that something very ugly was going on there.

One of the front doors opened, and Harrison Lane stepped out on the top step. He’d called her the night before to tell her that everything was set, and she’d brought him up to date on what she’d learned about I. Wynn. Now, spotting Nancy, he waved.

“There you are,” he said as she walked up to him. “I’ve been waiting for you. I just had a word with Walter Friedbinder, our new headmaster. He’s arranged everything.”

Lane led her inside and down an echoing hallway to a door with Administration painted in gold on the frosted glass pane in its upper half. Inside was a small anteroom with a desk, a waiting area, and a couple of file cabinets. Through a doorway to one side, Nancy caught a glimpse of an elaborate-looking computer setup.

The woman at the desk raised her head and said, “Please go right in, Mr. Lane. The headmaster is expecting you.” Nancy noted her nameplate: Ms. Arletti.

Nancy had been expecting the headmaster to be a gray-haired man, perhaps with a trim mustache, but Walter Friedbinder was young and athletic looking, with short-cropped, reddish hair and intense blue eyes. He sprang up from his desk as they entered his office.

“Welcome to Brewster Academy, Ms. Drew,” he said, offering his hand. “It’s nice to have you with us.”

“Thank you. And please call me Nancy,” she said. “But maybe I’d better use the name Nancy Stevens around here. My name has been in the papers, and it might be best if no one knows I’m a detective.”

“Of course,” said Friedbinder, the smile fading from his face. “I hope you can help us. As I’m sure Harrison told you, this is my first year at Brewster. I accepted the position as headmaster because I admire Brewster’s progressive educational system. The thought that the school might be ruined by a scandal makes me sick.”

“I’ll do what I can, Mr. Friedbinder,” Nancy told him.

His smile returned. “Please call me Walter. We try to keep things informal around here.”

He returned to his desk and picked up a file folder. “I think you’ll find whatever you need to know about the tutoring program in here,” he said, handing it to Nancy. “Now, why don’t we go next door and I’ll introduce you to my assistant head, Phyllis Hathaway. She can take you down to the learning lab and get you settled in.”

“I’ve got to be off,” Lane told them, checking his watch.

Just as they left the headmaster’s office, the door across the anteroom swung open. An attractive woman with dark hair pulled back in a French braid came out. She was about thirty years old and stylishly dressed in a black linen dress.

“Why, hello,” Lane said. “It’s been a long time. How are you?”

The woman gave him a surprised look, then smiled politely and said only, “Fine.”

There was an awkward pause, then the banker said, “Well, goodbye, everyone,” and left.

Walter urged Nancy across the room.

“Phyllis,” he said, “this is Nancy Stevens, who is joining the tutorial program. I said you’d help get her squared away.”

Nancy was glad that he’d remembered to use her alias. The fewer people who knew her true identity, the better.

“Hi, Nancy,” the woman said. “I’m Phyllis Hathaway. Come into my office. I’ll tell you a little about the program, then we can go down to check out the classroom where you’ll be working. Have you done much of this sort of work before?”

Walter rushed to answer before Nancy could reply. “Nancy has excellent qualifications,” he said, his voice harsh and impatient.

Phyllis’s expression hardened. “I’m sure she does,” she said in a clipped tone that clearly said, Mind your own business.

The headmaster’s face reddened, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, after another awkward pause, he said, “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Nancy, if you need anything, just let me know.”

He disappeared into his office, and Nancy followed Phyllis into hers.

“I hope that didn’t make you uncomfortable,” the woman said apologetically after they were seated. “I’ve been at Brewster for a number of years, ever since I finished college out in California. But Mr. Friedbinder is new to the place. We’re still learning to work with each other. I guess we’re experiencing what’s called a personality conflict.”

“That happens, I suppose,” Nancy murmured. She glanced around the office. Half of Phyllis’s desk was taken up by the high-powered computer work station Nancy had glimpsed before. The bookcase behind Phyllis’s chair seemed to be filled mostly with software manuals and books on computer programming.

“I’ve heard that the school has a very advanced computer system,” Nancy remarked.

Phyllis beamed. “It certainly does—the most powerful of any high school in the state. We’re very proud of it, and I’m especially proud because I was able to help design it. I’m sure you’ll enjoy using the system, too, once you get the hang of it. Now, here’s what we hope to accomplish with the new tutoring program. . . .”

As Phyllis spoke, Nancy realized that this case was going to be a challenge in more ways than one. In addition to unmasking the grade-changer, she was going to have to help students with their English, history, and social sciences. It sounded as if she was going to have to do a lot of homework herself!

“That’s the plan in a nutshell,” Phyllis concluded. “Now, why don’t I give you a quick tour of the place?”

They were getting to their feet when the telephone rang. “Excuse me a moment,” Phyllis said, reaching for the receiver.

Nancy stepped just outside Phyllis’s office and waited. She was reading her notes and thinking over her approach to the investigation, when suddenly a phrase caught her attention.

“—too dangerous,” Phyllis was telling the caller. “Listen, Dana, I don’t like him any more than you do. I’d love to see the conceited nitwit squirm, but I’m not sure I want to go any further with this. Yes . . . okay . . . maybe I am getting cold feet. But this could really hurt Brewster. I know . . . I know . . . the financial rewards are compelling. And I really do need the money. Let’s just take it more slowly. This plan has the potential to end in disaster.”

Chapter Four

Nancy edged away from the office door. She didn’t want Phyllis to guess that she’d overheard any of her conversation.

It looked as if Nancy had another suspect. Phyllis had a motive—apparently she needed money, though Nancy didn’t know why. And who was it she wanted to see squirm? Maybe Friedbinder, considering their strained relationship. A grade-changing scam would accomplish both things. Phyllis had the opportunity, too. Who would have better access to the school’s computer than she?

There was only one catch. Phyllis was tall and elegant. Even in a disguise she wouldn’t fit the description of the petite I. Wynn—or of the woman who’d been seen at I. Wynn’s Sycamore Avenue address. But maybe that was where this Dana person came in.