Hotline to Danger by Carolyn Keene

mouth was turned down at the corners. “Sorry, Bess. I’ve been so wrapped up in this case, I’d forgotten about you and Kyle.”
    â€œMe, too,” George said apologetically. “So what did you two talk about yesterday?”
    â€œI suggested that when he leaves, we date other people.” Bess’s voice was resigned. “I think it’s the only way. We’re going to still try to see each other—you know, on holidays and stuff.”
    George patted her cousin’s arm. “Hey, that sounds like a good solution. How did Kyle take the part about dating other people?”
    Bess shrugged. “He’s not wild about it.”
    Nancy pulled up in front of the police station, hoping that the case would distract her friend from her troubles for a while. “Let’s see if B.D.’s found out anything new.”
    They found B.D. in his office. There was just one extra chair in his office, and he carried in two others so that all three girls could sit down. Then he sat down behind his desk. The first thing he did when he heard about Nancy’s late-night escapade was to groan. “I can’t believe you let that punk DiFranco get away, Nancy,” he said angrily. “You know we’ve been looking for him. Maybe I ought to have you arrested for aiding a criminal.”
    â€œIf I’d let you in on it, Kip would have known,” Nancy shot right back. “He’s no fool. Then he wouldn’t have told me anything.”
    B.D. muttered something, then swung around in his swivel chair. He stood up and strode to a coffee maker. “You girls want any coffee?” he asked gruffly. Nancy could tell by his unshaven face and the dark circles under his eyes that he probably hadn’t made it home the night before.
    When they shook their heads, he poured himself a cup, then turned to Nancy. “So you really think this Skins kid was telling the truth about the Mercedes?”
    Nancy shrugged. “I think so. Now we just have to figure out who can afford a Mercedes.”
    â€œProbably Mrs. Thackett,” Bess stated.
    Nancy, George, and B.D. turned to her.
    â€œDon’t you remember Billie saying Mrs. Thackett told Rachel she wouldn’t get any of ‘her money’?” Bess reminded them. “And remember Rachel’s leather suitcase? And her clothes?”
    â€œBess is right,” Nancy said. “Only when Mrs. Thackett came to the center, she was driving a blue sedan.”
    â€œMaybe she has a second car that she’s hiding because she thinks it could have been spotted at the scene of the crime,” George suggested.
    B.D. stopped in the middle of sipping his coffee and glanced suspiciously from Bess to George to Nancy. “Why do I get the feeling you three are cooking up something?”
    â€œBecause we are!” Bess exclaimed.
    â€œLook, B.D., I’ve got an idea,” Nancy said excitedly. “You don’t have enough evidence to go snooping through Mrs. Thackett’s garage, but if we just happened to—”
    Holding up one hand to silence her, B.D. strode back to his desk. “I don’t want to hear about your plan. In fact, I’m going to pretend you girls weren’t even here. But—” Pausing, he looked at them with lowered brows, then suddenly winked and smiled. “If you should happen to spot a silver Mercedes in her garage, I want to be the first to know.”
    Fifteen minutes later Nancy pulled the Mustang up the circular drive of the Thackett home. It was located in one of River Height’s mostexpensive neighborhoods. The two-car garage was off to the right of the house. Both doors were shut, and there were no window panels in them.
    â€œNow, remember,” Nancy told Bess and George. “You’re old high-school friends of Rachel’s. When Mrs. Thackett answers the door, I’ll duck down so she doesn’t see me.”
    â€œRight,” George