Nobody's Business (12 page)

“I don't believe it!” Andrew cried, standing on the front doorstep of the inn. “How did they know?”

“That's what I was wondering,” Nancy said as the fire trucks screeched to a halt and a dozen fire fighters in black raincoats, helmets, and rubber boots jumped out.

“It's in the basement,” Andrew directed them as they rushed inside. “Follow me.” After instructing the Teen Works crew to remain outside, he followed the fire fighters inside.

For a few minutes Nancy wandered through the crowd, looking for Ned and Bess. But before she found her friends, Nancy spotted a familiar mass of brown curls with a copper streak.

Julie Ross was rushing through the chaos of fire fighters and distraught teenagers. Tears were
streaming down her grief-stricken face. “Andrew!” she called, her voice breaking. “Where are you?”

It seemed obvious that Julie still cared about Andrew. She must have come running from the boutique the second she heard the sirens. But then Nancy remembered Julie's angry words the first time she'd spoken to her at the crafts store: “I hope that old dump burns to the ground.”

Nancy frowned, wondering if it could be mere coincidence that Julie was so close to the inn just minutes after a fire started. Even if she'd been at her boutique nearby and had smelled smoke, she couldn't possibly have gotten to the inn so fast. Maybe Julie's display of concern for Andrew was just an act to cover up the fact that she was the one to start the fire.

Just as Nancy was about to follow Julie, someone grabbed her arm. She turned to see Ned standing there, a relieved look on his face.

“The fire's out,” he told her.

“Already?” Nancy asked. She checked over her shoulder and saw that Julie was still milling in the crowd outside the inn. Nancy resolved to keep her within eyesight.

Ned nodded. “Fortunately for Andrew, it was contained in that one area and didn't spread,” he told her. “The fire fighters were able to douse it pretty quickly.”

More sirens echoed through the bare trees, and three Melborne Township police cars pulled up
the driveway alongside the fire trucks. Half a dozen officers got out.

A tall female officer and her partner, a beefy red-haired man, got out of the car nearest the inn's entrance. “Andrew Lockwood?” the female officer called.

Andrew appeared in the front entrance of the inn, his sweatshirt sooty and his glasses fogged with smoke. “I'm Andrew Lockwood.”

“I'm Lieutenant Oscarson. I'd like to ask you a few questions,” the female officer said, taking out a leather-bound notepad. “Are you the owner of this place?”

Andrew walked down the steps and paused a few feet away from Lieutenant Oscarson. “My father is. I'm renovating it for him.”

“Yet you've taken out an accident insurance policy on the inn in your name, with yourself as the beneficiary?” the lieutenant inquired.

Andrew took off his glasses and began wiping them nervously on his sweatshirt. “Uh . . . that was my father's idea,” he said. “He wants to give me the inn after it's finished. I know how it must look. . . .”

Lieutenant Oscarson fixed Andrew with a stern glare. “About fifteen minutes ago we got an anonymous tip telling us there was a fire at the inn and that the fire was arson,” she told him. “We were also told that you'd recently increased your insurance policy. That makes you our prime suspect.”

Andrew's eyes grew wide with panic. “That's not true!” he protested. “I mean, I did increase my coverage, but I
didn't
start this fire.”

“I can vouch for him,” Ned said, looking straight at the police officer. “I was with him every second before the fire started. He didn't do anything except move some old furniture around.”

There was something else about the officer's accusation that struck Nancy as odd, too. Stepping forward, she told Lieutenant Oscarson, “There
was
no fire fifteen minutes ago, when the call came. It started less than ten minutes ago, which was
after
you got the tip. Doesn't that seem odd?”

The lieutenant quickly flipped through her notepad. “We haven't yet determined the exact time the fire started.”

“The call had to come before the fire started,” Nancy insisted. “None of us had a chance to call the fire department after we got out of the basement, yet the fire trucks were here as soon as we got upstairs. I think the person who called is the arsonist. How else could he or she have known in advance that a fire would happen?”

“In that case it doesn't make sense that Andrew would do it,” Ned put in. “If he wanted to torch the inn and collect on the insurance, I doubt he would have called the fire department and the police department and given himself away.”

Lieutenant Oscarson leaned back against the hood of her police car and studied Nancy and Ned carefully. “You're saying the caller named Andrew to take suspicion off himself?”

“Or herself,” Nancy amended. “Do you have any idea who called in the tip? Even knowing whether it was a man or a woman could be helpful.”

Making a note in her pad, the officer said, “One of our emergency operators took the call. I'll try to track it down. Meanwhile, I've still got to take Andrew down to the station for questioning.” She stood up and opened the back door to her car.

“See you guys later,” Andrew said glumly, getting into the backseat.

Ned's brown eyes flashed angrily as he watched the police car roll down the driveway. “I know he didn't do it,” he insisted. “We have to do something.”

“I'm going to start by calling Chief McGinnis,” Nancy assured him, “to see what he turned up on Colleen and Guy Lewis.”

Dodging the fire fighters who were leaving the building with their hoses and hatchets, Nancy hurried to Andrew's office.

“Appears we've got something on Lewis,” Chief McGinnis said over the line a few moments later.

Nancy's heart started beating faster. “He's got a record?”

The chief whistled. “I'll say he does. He's been convicted of burglary, vagrancy, extortion, and about fifteen years back he belonged to a theft ring that stole audio equipment from warehouses and sold it illegally.”

“Wow,” Nancy said. “I can see why Colleen wouldn't want anybody to know she knew him. He sounds like bad news.”

“It also says here that Lewis was just released from the state prison a few weeks ago,” McGinnis added.

Nancy thought quickly. “That could explain what he was doing in the basement,” she said. “It looked as if he was here fairly recently. Maybe he thought this place was still abandoned, so he came here to stay when he got out of jail. Unless he had some other purpose. I wonder if there's any link between Lewis and the Lockwood family?”

“Could be,” came the chief's voice over the line. “I know some of the guys in the Melborne Police Department. I'll see if they can help out on this.”

“Thanks,” Nancy told him. “There's something else I don't understand,” she went on. “Where's Guy Lewis now? From what I can tell, he's not at the inn anymore. But I think he may be behind what's happened here. Or maybe he's working with Colleen Morgan. Did you find anything on her?”

“Not a thing,” Chief McGinnis told Nancy.
“I looked up O'Herlihy and Morgan. She's clean.”

Thanking him again, Nancy hung up. She exited through the inn's front entrance just as two officers were sealing the door with yellow tape marked Police Line—Do Not Cross.

Outside, the last of the fire fighters were getting on their trucks and pulling out of the driveway. Nancy spotted Ned and Bess nearby, standing at the edge of the parking lot. The other teens also milled around, as if they weren't sure whether to go back to work or go home.

“I told Bess what we found out about Colleen at Bentley High,” Ned said when Nancy joined them. “Did the police find anything on Colleen?”

Nancy shook her head. “Her old friend Guy Lewis has a record, though. And we're not just talking parking tickets.”

“Could they have been working together?” Bess wondered. “Colleen could have set the fire, and Lewis could have placed the call.”

“It's possible,” Nancy agreed.

“What about Blaster?” Ned wanted to know. “He could have set the fire.”

Bess started to object, but Nancy said, “He's right, Bess. Blaster was down in the basement with us, but he could have sneaked away at some point to place the call. We were too busy to watch everyone the whole time.”

“Julie could have done it, too,” Bess argued. “I know I saw her wandering around just now,
calling Andrew's name. She's got curly hair with a red streak in it, right?”

Nancy nodded, remembering that she still hadn't had a chance to question Julie. Nancy searched the crowd with her eyes, but Julie had disappeared.

“That's the third time Julie's been at the inn with no explanation,” Nancy said. “But she wasn't in the basement when the fire started.”

“Do you think she could have sneaked down the stairs and started the fire while we all were working?” Ned asked.

“I doubt she could have done it without someone spotting her,” Nancy said.

A loud voice broke into their conversation. “Attention!” shouted a police officer. He stood on the doorstep, holding a megaphone to his mouth. “This area is now off-limits. Please go home and wait for further instructions.”

There was a collective groan from the Teen Works teenagers, who were gathered around Colleen.

“Hey, Ms. Morgan,” Blaster said. “Does that mean the party's canceled for tonight?”

“Of course not,” Colleen answered at once. “With all the bad things that have happened, we need a party now more than ever. Everybody be at my place at eight o'clock sharp, or else!”

A
S THE TEENAGERS CHEERED
, Bess grinned at Nancy and Ned. “I'm glad Colleen has her priorities straight. We could use a party around here.”

“Mmm,” Nancy murmured distractedly. Seeing that Colleen was about to leave, she hurried over to her, hoping to question her about her relationship with Guy Lewis. “Colleen, could I talk to you a minute?” Nancy asked.

“Sorry,” Colleen told her. “I don't have time right now.”

“But it's important,” Nancy insisted. “I'm trying to locate a man named Guy Lewis. I think he might be responsible for what's going on here.”

Colleen's freckled face was blank. “Who?”

“His name is Guy Lewis. I think he's the person who was sleeping in the basement.”

Shrugging, Colleen said, “The name doesn't sound familiar. Why are you asking me?”

Nancy's blue eyes bored into Colleen. It seemed unlikely that she wouldn't have the slightest recollection of a guy she'd known in high school. Colleen was definitely hiding something. But whether it was simply the fact that she knew Lewis, or something more, remained to be seen.

“I thought you might remember him from high school,” Nancy prodded.
“Bentley
High School . . .”

Nancy saw a flicker of unease in Colleen's green eyes. Colleen glanced quickly at her gold watch, then said, “I'd love to talk to you, but I've got to bring these kids back to the Teen Works center, and then I have to rush home and prepare for the party. We'll talk tonight, okay?”

Turning away from Nancy, Colleen called out to the Teen Works kids and started down the driveway to the parking lot. Nancy let out a sigh of frustration as she watched the other woman.

Colleen is definitely hiding something, Nancy thought. And tonight, at the party, I'm going to try to find out exactly what it is.

• • •

“This house is incredible,” Bess said to Nancy and Ned a few hours later as they entered Colleen
Morgan's mansion. The foyer had polished wooden floors and an enormous crystal chandelier hanging overhead. Intricately patterned Persian rugs were scattered over the floor, and a grand staircase swept upward to the second floor.

After a butler had taken their coats and jackets, a maid led the three teens down a long hallway with oil paintings hanging along the walls and more Persian rugs.

“This is my kind of house,” Bess said approvingly.

The thumping bass line of a rock song grew louder as they neared a pair of carved wooden doors at the end of the hall. The maid ushered them through the doors, and Nancy found herself in a living room almost as large as the ballroom at the inn. Groupings of sofas and velvet chairs were spaced around the room, and the walls were paneled with deep red-brown mahogany.

Along one wall several tables were set up, covered with white linen and loaded with food. Uniformed caterers stood behind the tables, serving cold cuts, fruit, and hot dishes in silver warming trays. A makeshift sound system had been set up at the far end of the room and was connected to two six-foot-high speakers.