Carolyn Keene. Trial By Fire

“There are microphones in all of the ladybugs,” Nancy said. “Fleet’s Courier Service drilled holes for pencil points into the tops of the paperweights and maneuvered the ladybugs down through one of the holes. Then they gave them away to judges, lawyers—”

“District attorneys,” the district attorney added tightly.

“Across the street in the parking lot, you’ll find a white Fleet’s van with two fiat tires,” Nancy said. “I slashed them a few minutes ago. The van’s full of electronic listening equipment and recording devices, and it’s been picking up conversations all over Judiciary Square.”

“Bailiff,” Judge Leonard snapped, “get some officers and locate that van immediately! Is there anyone in it, Ms. Drew?”

“Yes, sir. After I punctured the tires, I jammed all the locks. He’s stuck, just waiting to be picked up.”

The bailiff ran up the aisle and out the door.

“They used the paperweight to tape my dad’s voice,” Nancy said, continuing.

Bess, the ever-ready assistant, slid the tapes out of the envelope and said, “Defense exhibit C.” Then she darted back to her seat.

“We found these in the basement of Fleet’s. You can see they’re clearly marked—one with my father’s name, one with Judge Jonathan Renk’s, and one with both. They’re building a library down there.”

“And I imagine my name is on one of those volumes,” the judge said, his face red with anger. “Get somebody to send the police to this place,” he barked at the district attorney.

“They’re probably already there, to pick up the men who’re behind this. The owners of the Gold Star Cab Company.”

“What’s a cab company got to do with this?” the judge asked.

“Uh, if you don’t mind, Your Honor, if I don’t get exhibit—what is it? D?—on the table at this point, I’ll lose my train of thought.”

He smiled. “Then by all means go on.”

Nancy handed her father the two twenty-dollar bills. “Ms. Hanson—that’s my father’s secretary—sent this. It’s your change from the coffee money envelope, Dad.”

He took it. “This could have waited, honey.”

“I don’t think so,” Nancy said, holding up the envelope. “I’m told you make your contribution every couple of weeks.”

Carson Drew nodded. “That’s right. We all do. We—” He stopped, staring, then groaned. “The blank envelope. The coffee envelope. Is my face red!”

“One of Fleet’s couriers simply removed a blank envelope from the stationery rack behind Ms. Hanson’s desk,” Nancy explained, “slipped the coffee money into it, and kept the one you’d handled.”

“So simple. It was brilliant,” Carson exclaimed.

“The couriers are in and out around the clock. I’m guessing one got into your office at night while the cleaning crew was there and typed Unc—I mean, Judge Renk’s name on it.”

“And Fleet’s supplied the ten thousand dollars with which to implicate your father?” Judge Leonard said. “They could afford that?”

Nancy grinned. “That and more. Judge Leonard, do I have a story for you!”

Chapter Nineteen

“Incredible, absolutely incredible,” Carson Drew said.

Everyone, Mr. Tyler and Jim Dayton included, was positioned in various stages of collapse in the Drew living room, stuffed to the gills. Hannah had fed them as if it were their last meal.

“All this was to hide a stolen car operation?” Carson asked.

“A million-dollar-a-year stolen car operation,” Nancy emphasized. “They’ve been setting it up for years, bribing anyone who could keep the cab company front going—hack inspectors, licensing officers, police department record clerks.”

“Some city officials are going to be very embarrassed,” Ann said.

“It was a smooth operation,” Ned said. “They’d bring in a stolen car and paint it gold.” He shuddered. “Then they’d slap a magnetic roof light on it, stencil Gold Star on its side, and leave it parked in the garage for a while.”

“Then they’d take it through the car wash to get the water-based paint off and send it on its way—to a used-car lot.” Nancy smiled. “And Ann’s story threatened to expose it all.”

“They needed an insurance company for Gold Star, so they set up the Mid-City cover,” Ann said. “The only businesses Mid-City covered—on paper, that is—was Gold Star, Fleet’s, and Freddie’s Used Cars.”

“But how’d they pull in Jonathan?” Carson asked.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *