Sabotage at Willow Woods (Nancy Drew Diaries #5)(6)

Think outside the box. Get our hands dirty. Each of Barney’s words got my little justice-loving inner PI thrumming with enthusiasm. Even if Barney wasn’t directly connected to the note Carrie had been passed, I had a feeling I could still learn about a lot of shady activities done in the name of green living. “I’m in,” I said, taking his hand and giving it a good shake. Barney winced and pulled away, but smiled at me just the same.

“That’s great!” he said, looking like he really meant it.

“So what’s the next step?” I asked, holding up the flyer. “Who do I talk to? I’m ready to get my hands dirty!”

“Read the flyer. Think about it. If the ideas resonate with you, then you can start by joining the Green Club,” Barney said, grabbing my flyer and writing something on the bottom. “Room 238. You’ll need to talk to our faculty sponsor.”

“And that is?” I asked, taking the flyer back from him and squinting at the room number.

Barney smiled. “Ms. Meyerhoff,” he said. “I hope I see you at our next meeting, Katrina.”





CHAPTER THREE





Caught on Tape


AS I WAS WALKING BACK to my car, I got a series of texts from George explaining that Carrie had invited us to fill three unsold seats at a big fund-raising dinner she was throwing that night. The other attendees would be rich potential donors to her campaign, so the event would be very fancy. WE CAN’T SAY NO, George’s last text said.

Well. Who was I to argue?

That night I pulled up to the Boylestown Yacht Club at precisely five thirty, as George’s e-mail had instructed. Already the parking lot was buzzing with activity, with well-dressed people climbing out of cars and limos and walking a red carpet to get inside. I watched curiously, smoothing my own simple green dress over my knees. I hadn’t been to many fancy fund-raising dinners in my short life, and despite Bess’s fashion advice, I wasn’t totally convinced I’d dressed the part.

I was pulled from my worries by a sharp rap on my passenger window. It was Bess—expertly made up and wearing a fashionable black cocktail dress, of course. I clicked the unlock button on my door and gestured for her to get into the car. George was right behind her, wearing a red skirt and striped shell, and she pulled open the back door and climbed in.

“You look nice,” George observed mildly.

“Do I?” I fingered my hair, which I’d halfheartedly styled with a curling iron. “I’m watching all these people go in and feeling only about thirty percent as fancy as I should be to attend this party.”

“Oh, come on, Nance.” Bess reached over and pinched me. “You look great. And hey, your name even rhymes with ‘fancy.’?”

“Fancy Nancy!” George said, delighted. “Like the picture books!”

I groaned. “Never call me that again, please.”

“I’m going to call you that every day.”

“Can we talk about something else?” I reached into the small purse I’d brought and pulled out the flyer Barney had given me, now folded and creased from multiple readings. I handed it to George. “For example: I think I have a lead on the mystery note writer.”

“A lead?” George asked, unfolding the flyer and burying her nose in it.

“Did you go to the school today?” Bess asked. Before they’d left the day before, I’d gone over my plan with my friends. “At lunch?”

“I did,” I replied as George flipped over the flyer, making murmuring noises of approval. “And I stumbled onto a protest run by this environmental club, the BHS Green Club, which is already strongly opposed to Carrie’s plans for a new sports complex and football field.”

“For good reason, it sounds like,” George added, finishing up the flyer and passing it forward to Bess. “I had no idea Carrie’s plan called for those woods to be half destroyed. In addition to prioritizing sports above anything else, it sounds like this new complex is going to wreak all kinds of environmental havoc.”

Bess was reading the flyer now, her brow creased. “I’m sure Carrie doesn’t know how damaging this would be,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning down. “She may love athletics, but she’d never want to damage the environment this way. Maybe there’s a work-around?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “But for right now, my main suspect is one Ms. Meyerhoff—faculty sponsor of the Green Club, and one of the two teachers at BHS who smokes.”

“You think Ms. Meyerhoff wrote the note?” George asked, incredulous. “Marina Meyerhoff? Nance, have you heard of the Boylestown Shakespeare in the Park program?”

“Yeah,” I said, catching George’s eye in the rearview mirror. Where was she going with this?

“She runs it,” George said. “She won, like, state Teacher of the Year a few years ago. It was all over the local news. She’s possibly the most beloved teacher at BHS. Carrie still talks about her poetry lectures.”

I frowned at George. “Okay. So she’s beloved. Does that mean she could never, ever do anything wrong?”

George pursed her lips but remained silent. So did Bess, folding the flyer carefully back up and handing it to me. Our experience catching crooks together over the years had taught us all that criminals rarely look how you expect them to look. All it takes is for a seemingly normal person to make one dumb, rash decision, and boom—criminal.