“I’ve thought about that, too. Want to take a look?” Nancy asked.
“I’d love to, but I have to get home—and right now,” Jim said as he glanced at his watch. “Sorry, you guys. Look, maybe we’ll get a chance to work together on this before I have to go back to school. Nice to meet you, Ned.”
As soon as Jim left, Ned said, “Nancy, don’t try it without me, understand? I leave at two, when the Gold Star guys take over. We can—”
“What do you mean, the Gold Star guys take over?”
“The dispatcher’s worked out a deal with my boss. They close the wash to the public at two and run the cabs through.”
“Every night?” Nancy asked, puzzled.
“I guess so.”
Nancy leaned against the wall. “That’s funny. Brownley told me that if the cab was dirty at the end of my shift, to run it through your place. If he tells all the drivers that, what’s left to wash?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve got to run. There goes a customer in the front. Promise me you won’t do anything without me, okay?”
“I promise. The Mustang’s parked in the public garage. Second level. I’ll wait there for you.”
“Deal.” Ned bent down and kissed her. Then he sprinted into the gaudy glare of the car wash.
When he had disappeared inside, Nancy trotted around the block. There was no reason she couldn’t just look inside Fleet’s from the street. She wouldn’t go inside, just look.
Fleet’s rollup door was open halfway. Stooping to peer under it, Nancy saw a line of vans backed against the side walls. Some were larger than others, but they were all white and all had aerials for two-way radios. A glassed-in office, similar to the one next door at Gold Star, was tucked just inside the door.
Nancy scooted across to the other side and squinted at the door of the office. Above it was a sign: Fleet’s Courier Service. P. Reston, Proprietor. This was getting better and better!
Nancy glanced at her watch, wondering if she should wake her father’s secretary to ask if the firm used Fleet’s. No, it was after one. It could wait. It was even more tempting to call Ann. The reporter kept weird hours, and she might still be up.
Dashing past Gold Star, Nancy darted into the alley. She’d get the Mustang and find a phone.
Then she heard a sound behind her. Someone else had walked into the alley.
Reston. Nancy stepped back, pressing against the side of the garage. Reston walked across the mouth of the alley to an old car parked alongside the car wash. He opened the trunk, took something out, and then headed back toward the entrance of Gold Star.
Hugging the shadows, Nancy slithered along the wall toward the car he’d just left. This was not the Buick he had driven the night before. In fact—
She tried the door on the driver’s side. It was unlocked. Opening it just long enough for the ceiling light to come on, Nancy checked the interior. This was the car Reston had driven when he had kidnapped her!
Maybe I should check the trunk, she thought, removing the lock pick from her wallet. In less than fifteen seconds she had it open. Using her penlight was chancy but worth the risk if she found something important.
As it was, the contents were certainly interesting—several boxes of blank hack licenses, and the kind of dated stickers that were glued on the windshield of taxis after they had passed inspection.
Wedged in the corner was an unopened box marked Fragile. Nancy’s curiosity got the best of her. She leaned in and played her penlight across the printing on its side: “Nature Under Glass. Fragile. This End Up.” Nancy tried to pull it toward her. It was surprisingly heavy.
You’re getting sidetracked, Drew, she told herself. Maybe it was a present for his wife or something. The important discoveries were the hack licenses and the inspection stickers.
Suddenly Nancy heard someone stepping from the sidewalk into the alley. She glanced up and realized with horror that it was Reston. Stooping quickly, she eased the trunk down, hoping she could duck-walk back into the shadows beside the building.