Read Online A Race Against Time by Carolyn Keene - Free Book Online

past the bank and looked in the window. There was a lot of activity inside. Tellers counted money in drawers, and officers questioned security guards. Others just sat, checking papers, which I guessed were probably lists of pledges—pledges of money that had vanished.
    In the corner Mr. Holman and Officer Rainey stood on either side of the old-fashioned safe. Its door was open, just like it had been that morning before the race. Except this time the safe was empty.
    I walked back to the other side of Main Street and into the minipark. As far as activity was concerned, the park was the exact opposite of the bank. A coupleof fat bumblebees lazily nosed their way into some petunias, and a plump red cardinal sat in the middle of a birdbath. He wasn’t even flapping his wings to pretend he was actually bathing. He was just zoned out, tail-deep in the water.
    A weathered bench offered a perfect view of the front door of the bank. I really wanted to talk to Officer Rainey, since he was the one who had been watching the money. But how was I going to get to him?
    I sat for a while, watching the cardinal sitting like a fat red rock in the birdbath. My mind was busy with images of the safe, of Mr. Holman and Officer Rainey, and of the man in the red shorts.
    For a moment I considered going over to police headquarters. My main source there is Chief McGinnis. He isn’t exactly a friend, but he’s more than just an acquaintance. The best word to describe him is colleague . We often find ourselves working on the same case, although we definitely have different methods—and often different results.
    As I was debating with myself about the merits of checking in with Chief McGinnis, I was joined on the park bench by a friend.
    “Luther!” I greeted him. “Lend me some of your wisdom.”
    I’m always happy to spend a few minutes with Luther, because I always learn something when I do. And sometimes I don’t realize I learned anything until later.
    “Hello, Nancy,” Luther said with his thin little smile. “Now why am I not surprised to find you down here instead of sprinting around the cycling course?”
    “Because you know me so well?” I guessed, smiling. Even though Luther is old enough to be my father, we always treat each other like good friends.
    “So tell me,” I continued, “why don’t you seem that surprised to see me out of the race?” I asked.
    “Because a major crime’s been committed on the same day,” Luther replied, his blue eyes shining.
    “You’ve heard about the stolen pledge money,” I said, nodding.
    “I have, and I figured I’d find you down here where the action is. And besides, it’s a nice day to be in the park.”
    “Well, it seemed like the right place to be—but now I’m not so sure. I want to talk to Ralph Holman or the security officer who was guarding the pledges this morning. But it looks as if the police have them tied up inside the bank.”
    “Not literally, I hope!” Luther said with another smile.
    I couldn’t help but smile back. “They might as well be. They’re standing guard over an empty safe.”
    “You know . . . ,” Luther began.
    I love it when he begins a sentence with “You know,” because it’s usually something I don’t know at all.
    “You know,” he repeated, “this whole theft reminds me of the original River Heights Heist.”
    I know the legend of course. Everyone who lives here has heard it a million times. But Luther’s definitely the expert on this town and knows all the little sidebars that haven’t necessarily made the history books.
    “You know about the Rackham Gang of course,” he said.
    “Before the settlement even had a name”—I paraphrased the brochure from the River Heights Welcome Board—“a steamer arrived with a big load of cash to exchange for Mahoney anvils. But the word got out, and the Rackham Gang stole the money.”
    “You get an A-plus for common knowledge,” Luther said. “ Now tell me some of the not-so-common