Carolyn Keene. Two Points to Murder

Ray’s high, thin voice rose to a whine. “You won’t rat on me, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Ever since Burnett threw me off the basketball team, this is the only fun I have left.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to point your gun at another human being!”

“Okay. Excuse me! I won’t do it again.”

Nancy relaxed a little, but only a little. She wasn’t comfortable around Ray. Who could be, when he acted so weird? In fact, if it weren’t for Mike, she would gladly have put him at the top of her list of suspects!

Casually she glanced at the paper target on top of one of the firing stations. Its bullseye was shot out.

“That yours?” she asked.

“Yeah. Pretty good, huh? I’ve been shooting most of my life.”

“Hmmm. . . . Listen, Ray, I’m looking for Ned. Have you seen him?”

Ray’s face darkened. “Mr. Wonderful? No, I haven’t seen him. Why don’t you check the trophy case upstairs?”

“What! Why?”

“ ’Cause Burnett’s got him on such a pedestal, he probably forgot and stuck him in there with all the other stuff.”

Nancy stared at him. Was that supposed to be funny? Whether it was or not, she was getting out of there. She had heard enough. With a mumbled “See you,” she turned and walked out.

She never did find Ned. When she got back to the dorm room, however, Bess informed her that Coach Burnett had called.

“Guess what? Tonight’s game against Haviland University is away, and the coach gave us permission to ride on the team bus! Isn’t that fantastic?”

Tremendous, Nancy thought sarcastically. It was going to be a barrel of laughs. How could she enjoy the ride with Tom Stafford’s accusation ringing in her ears? Was it true? She was going to have to confront Ned with it sometime—and that would hurt both of them.

“Fantastic,” Nancy replied dully.

At 4:30 that afternoon, Nancy, Bess, and George walked to the sports complex’s parking lot. Bess was bubbling with enthusiasm. She was wearing a snazzy shirtdress under her coat and had bought a ten-foot-long, purple-and-orange Emerson scarf just for the occasion.

Aside from her jacket, Nancy was wearing boots, jeans, and a black cashmere sweater. She wasn’t feeling very festive.

Most of the players had already arrived. Ned was there, his gym bag at his feet. He nodded as Nancy walked up but said nothing until Howie Little joined them. “Hey, Socks,” Ned said.

“Socks?” Nancy asked.

“They call me that on account of the lucky pair I wear during games.”

Nancy recalled seeing Howie’s oddly colored socks two nights before. She was surprised to learn that he was superstitious.

“Hey, I’ve got the highest scoring average in the division. The best foul-shot percentage, too,” he explained. “I’d say I’m entitled to wear any kind of socks I want to!”

“I guess you are!” Nancy laughed.

A minute later, the team manager told everyone to get on the bus.

“Won’t Coach Burnett be riding with us?” Nancy asked as she climbed aboard.

Ned shook his head. “He rides to games with the assistant coaches.”

“What about Mike? I don’t see him, either.”

“He’s driving to Haviland by himself,” Ned said carefully. “He . . . he told me that he needs some time to think.”

About what? Nancy wondered. His next practical joke? Where to spend his money?

She decided not to sit with Ned. The only topic she wanted to discuss was the illegal payments, but this wasn’t the right time, she knew. Instead, she sat with George in the seat right behind the driver.

The door closed with a hiss, and a second later they were off. It was a two-hour drive to Haviland. Nancy wondered how she would stand it. Her doubts about Ned were making her so unhappy that she could hardly sit still.

Fortunately, George didn’t notice her anguish. Her friend was excited about the upcoming game. She knew a lot about basketball and filled the time by explaining the game’s fine points.

“. . . so you see, just before the final buzzer the losing team will commit a foul on purpose. That way they can—”

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