Ned stopped at the deli and bought sandwiches for Nancy and himself. They gobbled them down on their way back.
As they turned onto McConnell, Nancy groaned. “Will you look at that? I thought Fleet’s was open around the clock! Now how can we check it out?”
Ned pulled up to the curb, and they climbed out, staying hidden behind the car so they could observe what was happening. Fleet’s Courier Service was dark and locked tight as a drum. But Gold Star’s garage appeared to be alive with activity. Nancy and Ned crept closer, using shadows for cover. Reston, Brownley, and a couple of drivers in white jackets with “Fleet’s” stenciled on the backs were busily jockeying taxis around inside, as if making room for something.
“Well, now we know where the couriers are. Those cabs are new,” Nancy whispered. “Maybe it’s part of the shipment Brownley was talking about.”
As they watched, a couple of cabs were driven next door to the car wash. As they drove through the bay doors, the lights went out. Anyone passing by would have thought the place was closed. “See?” Ned said.
“This is crazy,” Nancy said. “Those cabs looked perfectly clean.”
“Well, I warn you, this will go on for the next forty-five minutes. There’s nothing more we can do tonight. We’ll have to try tomorrow night, okay?”
Nancy hated to give up. She’d been primed to search for the route to the basement, but what Ned said made sense. They’d be risking discovery if they tried it with all those people around.
“Okay. Tomorrow night,” she said. “I guess it’s just as well.” Suddenly she was very tired.
Ned drove her around to her car. They spent a leisurely few minutes saying good night, and then they each drove home.
Nancy went in the back door as usual, but didn’t turn on the light in the kitchen. Her goal was bed, so she checked the lock, then walked straight through the darkened kitchen and up the stairs. That was why she didn’t see her father’s note on the refrigerator until the next morning.
It was the worst news she could have gotten. Carson Drew’s pretrial hearing had been moved up. It was now scheduled for that very afternoon!
“Can they do that, Dad?” Nancy asked, horrified. She’d just come down for breakfast and read the note.
“I’m surprised that they moved it up,” he admitted. “But it’s not that unusual. I take it you haven’t found anything to use to clear me?”
“We’ve found out a lot of things, and there aren’t as many holes in the jigsaw puzzle as there were when we started.” She told him about the discovery she had made the night before, thanks to the contents of Reston’s trunk.
“But the most important piece is missing—how they framed you. I have an idea, but I need to get the proof.”
Carson got up from the table. “All right. Keep at it, and please don’t worry. Pretrial isn’t the end of the world.”
“Honest, Dad?” Nancy asked. She felt desolate at having let him down.
“Honest. Oh, by the way, I brought my associates up to date last night on what you’re doing.”
“You didn’t tell them about my working at Gold Star, did you?”
“Yes. If they’re going to defend me, they’re entitled to know how the investigation is going. Will you be in court today?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” Her father managed a tight smile. “I can use the support. Courtroom C at two o’clock. And Leonard runs a tight court. He starts on time. I’m off. See you at two.”
Nancy hurried up the stairs. She glanced through the notes she had made about the case and tossed them into a large tote bag. If she got lucky and found the answers she needed before two o’clock, she’d be prepared.
Suddenly the obvious answer to one of her problems hit her. “Of course! Mr. Tyler!” she said out loud.
She looked up his number and dialed it. “Mr. Tyler, this is Nancy Drew. I’m embarrassed that I didn’t think to ask you this yesterday. Is there another way to get down to the lower level of the garage?”