“You also talk too much,” Reston growled.
“It must be a very successful business,” Nancy went on, “considering the trouble you’ve gone to to protect it. How much have you been pulling in?”
“No harm in my telling you. You won’t be passing it along. About a million a year.”
“Pretty good,” Nancy said. “Certainly enough to spread some around to people who can help keep you in operation. How many people are on your payroll?”
Reston shrugged. “Ten. They’re cheap, all things considered. A hack inspector here, a police records clerk there. They don’t ask for much. But they’re a big help.”
“And the judge? He was about to blow it for you, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, which was unfortunate. It was very handy having someone who could tip us off about search warrants, or secret indictments that would put certain friends behind bars. No matter. We’re grooming someone to take his place. Now-” He placed the gun against her temple.
“One last thing,” Nancy said, her mouth dry. She had to play for time. “What were you holding over the judge’s head?”
Reston grinned. “Gambling debts. For every tip he gave us, we knocked ten thousand off his bill.”
“How much was framing my father worth?”
“Fifty thousand. And it worked. Your daddy’s going to jail, little girl.”
“Sooner or later, you will, too-for first-degree murder.”
“What’s she talking about?” Brownley stared at Reston. “You killed Renk? You said it wasn’t you! You said somebody had done us a favor!”
“So I lied. After little Ms. Drew got away from me, I went to relieve Casper out near the judge’s place. And who shows up? Ms. Drew again.”
“You didn’t tell me about that!” Brownley said, eyeing his partner as if he were seeing him for the first time.
“I don’t report to you. I could hear Renk beginning to cave in loud and clear. He had to go. What do you care?”
“If he doesn’t care,” Nancy said, “he should. You made him an accessory to murder.”
“Wait a minute! I didn’t know anything about it!” Brownley’s ruddy complexion had turned ashen.
“Maybe not. But you will know about ours,” Nancy pointed out. “If he kills us, you might as well have pulled the trigger. He tried to kill us once before.”
“No, I didn’t, girlie. If you mean that car bomb, that was a mistake. The bozo I hired did it all wrong. Why would I kill her when I needed information from her.”
Brownley backed out of the wire enclosure. “I don’t want anything to do with murder, Reston. You kill them and you’re on your own.”
For the first time, Nancy saw uncertainty in Reston’s icy gray eyes. “Maybe you’re right.” He backed out of the cage and slammed the door. “You come up with me. We’ll talk.”
Brownley looked worried as he secured the padlock.
As soon as they were out of sight, Nancy began looking around for a means of escape.
“I’m so sorry, Nancy,” Ann said. “They fooled me. I thought it was you driving that cab. I opened the door to get in, felt a stinging in my arm-and that’s all I remember.”
“Forget it. My dad’s hearing is this afternoon. If we don’t get out of here, we’ll probably wind up in the nearest river and my dad’ll wind up in jail.” She peered out of the enclosure. “And it doesn’t look like Jim will be able to help us.”
Scooting over to the wall, Nancy leaned her back against it and pushed herself to a standing position. She then reached into the trash barrel for one of the oil cans and tilted it toward her wrists. There wasn’t much left in it, but what little there was oozed over her hands, coating them with the thick fluid.
It took draining the dregs from two more cans before her wrists were slippery enough for her to work the cord off. She then untied her feet and freed Ann.
But their problems were far from over. The enclosure was locked, and Nancy had no idea what happened to the pick she had been using when she was caught.
“Pssst!”
Nancy’s head snapped up. Bess, on all fours, scuttled over to the wire cage. Her eyes were twice their usual size. She looked heavier than usual, too.
“Nancy! Ann! You’re okay!” She looked at the lock with alarm.
“My pick set may be out there on the floor somewhere,” Nancy said. “See if you can find it.”
Bess pawed through the trash outside the door. “Here it is. Now what?”
“The weave of the wire is too small for me to get my hands through,” Nancy said. “You’ll have to get it open for us.”
“Me?” Bess swallowed and squared her shoulders. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”
Nancy prompted her, forcing patience and encouragement into her tone. It seemed to take forever, but after a struggle, the lock clicked open and the door came ajar.
“Quick! This way,” Nancy said and started for the row of boxes.
“Uh, I think I’m going to need help.” Ann’s voice was weak. Her legs seemed to be even weaker. “It’s that stuff they gave me.”
Nancy and Bess looked at each other in dismay, then moved back to her side. Awkwardly, they maneuvered her between the cars and pushed and shoved her through the space at the end of the boxes.
At the bottom of the conveyor, Bess shook her head. “No way she can make it up this thing, Nancy. You go on. I’ll stay with her.”
Ann shook her head. “No! Leave me. You’ve got what you need to help Carson. Get out of here. Go to him.”
Nancy would have loved to do just that, but she felt responsible for her two friends and Jim. It was certain that if they didn’t get away, Reston would be glad to shoot them.
She looked at the door to the courier service. “Let me check and see if we can slip out from Fleet’s side. If we can make it to the street level, we can hide in one of the vans until the coast is clear.”
“No.” Bess’s voice was firm. “I’ll do that. You go on. Here.” She yanked the tail of her blouse from her jeans and pulled a bulky envelope from under it.
“I thought you looked awfully lumpy,” Nancy said. “What is it?”
“Cassettes of your dad’s and the judge’s voices. The dummies had everything marked plain as day.”
Nancy shook her head in amazement. “Bess, you’ve been super. I’ll get help for you all as soon as I can.”
“Wait,” Bess said. “I’ve got something else for you. It-” She stopped. “What was that?”
The conveyor swayed and began to quiver. Someone was coming down!
Nancy thought fast. Maybe it was Ned-but she couldn’t count on that.
“Come on!” she whispered. She grabbed Ann’s right arm, Bess took the left, and they crossed to the door of Fleet’s. Nancy yanked it open-and ran smack into Brownley.
Chapter Seventeen
“Get in here!” Brownley hissed and yanked them into the electronics workshop. He eased the door closed quickly, then cracked it just enough to see who was climbing down the conveyor.
While he was occupied, Bess snatched the envelope of evidence from Nancy’s hand and crammed it back under her blouse. By the time Brownley said, “Mac’s come back. Wonder why,” the envelope was safely out of sight.
He closed the door and turned to face them. His skin was flushed, his eyes wide and staring. “Thought you were home free, didn’t you? Well, you aren’t!”
“You aren’t, either, are you?” Nancy moved from beside Ann and walked slowly around the workshop. “What were you doing in here? Trying to remove incriminating evidence connecting you with the judge?”
Papers were strewn all over the floor. File drawers hung open. Tapes had been pulled from the shelves and lay at all angles. Bess would have been too smart to leave such a mess.
But the batch of papers Brownley was clutching really gave him away. Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he dropped them. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled.