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they drove, Nancy took her notebook from her purse and flipped it open. “The driver of that van could have been anybody,” she said, looking at the notes she had taken on the case so far. “Lydia, Kimberly Burton, or some person we haven’t encountered yet.”
    â€œThose wild colors on the van would certainly fit Lydia’s personality,” George commented.
    â€œKimberly’s, too,” said Bess. “And since Kimberly’s an antiques dealer, she probably needs a van.”
    â€œFor jewelry?” Nancy asked.
    â€œWe don’t know what else she deals in,” Bess reminded her. “She said she has a variety of interests, whatever that means.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Nancy said. “Maybe Chief McGinnis can run a check on Lydia and Kimberly to see what kind of cars are registered in their names. But I keep thinking about the possibility of another suspect. I have a weird feeling about that van, as if I’ve seen it somewhere before. But not with Lydia or Kimberly in it. I would have remembered that.”
    George’s brow was knit in concentration. “You know, I think I’ve seen that van before, too. Only I can’t remember where.”
    â€œIt’s also possible that the driver of the van is working with either Lydia or Kimberly,” Nancy pointed out. At the bottom of her list of suspects, she added a big question mark.
    George turned off the highway and onto a private road that went up a hill. Soon they reached a small guard’s house and an electronic gate. George flashed her Frosty Freeze ID card at the guard, and the gate slowly opened.
    â€œWow,” Bess said. “Tight security. Are they afraid someone’s going to hijack an ice cream truck?”
    â€œIt’s company policy,” George said. “Every employee has to have an ID card.”
    George drove into an enormous parking lot filled with Frosty Freeze trucks and employees’ cars. Several large buildings were clustered together next to the lot. Nancy saw a few smaller buildings at the other end of the parking area. Pulling in between two other trucks, George parked, and the girls got out.
    â€œDo you want us to come with you for moral support?” Nancy asked.
    â€œYeah, we can back up your story,” Bess offered.
    George shook her head. “Ms. Franklin’s pretty fair, and I’ve got the police report to prove I’m telling the truth. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” George took a few steps away, then looked back at them over her shoulder. “Of course, if I do lose my job, I’ll havemore time to help you with the case . . . and my car’s still running.”
    â€œGood luck,” Nancy said, and Bess gave her cousin the thumbs-up sign.
    Ten minutes later George rejoined them in the parking lot, a big smile on her face.
    â€œYou’re still employed?” Bess asked hopefully.
    George nodded. “Ms. Franklin was really understanding. She said the company’s insurance would cover the damage. She blamed me for only one thing.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” asked Nancy.
    â€œTransporting unauthorized parties in a company vehicle.”
    â€œI think she means us,” Bess said to Nancy.
    George nodded. “But I can still help out with transportation. I’m not working tomorrow, so I can drive you around. And the day after, you can use my car, as long as you drive me here for work.”
    â€œThanks, George,” Nancy said. “That would be a big help.” She and Bess followed George to her car.
    â€œWould you mind making one more stop?” Nancy asked as they pulled out of the Frosty Freeze parking lot. “I just realized we’re not far from Russell Brown’s shop. It’s on Route Twenty-two, on the other side of the bridge.”
    â€œNo problem,” George said.
    â€œOh, no!” cried Bess. “We have to go over that bridge