sniffed. The odor of gasoline was still strong.
Nancy was willing to bet that can of gasoline had been used to drench Robâs coat. Also, his jacket could have been bunched up and hidden in the shed without arousing any suspicion.
Nancyâs penlight flashed on something white lying on the ground next to the gas can. She moved her light closer to the object. It was a scrap of paperâtorn but crisp and white. It had some typing on it. It looked somehow familiar, but whereâ Nancy picked up the paper to read it.
She realized instantly what it wasâa piece of the museum label from the stolen jewels!
Chapter
Nine
N ANCY STARED at the label. What luck! This was exactly the clue she needed. Since the museum tag was in the same place as the gasoline, that meant that the same person was probably responsible for both crimes and for setting up Rob.
Just then the shed door was pulled shut!
Nancyâs first impulse was to run over to the door and try to force it open. But instead she made herself stand still and listen. She couldnât be positive, but she thought she heard someone running up the lane.
Nancy tucked the museum label in her pocket, then moved over to the door and pulled on it. Asshe had expected, it was locked tight. She pulled harder, but still it didnât budge. She thought of yelling for help but didnât think that it would do any good. The shed was pretty isolated, and she doubted that many people would be strolling down to the boat house on a winter evening.
She shone her penlight around the shed again. No windows. Now she had to find some tools to force the door open. Her penlight revealed a battered metal toolbox on a shelf. Before Nancy checked it out, she paused to think. Where were the hinges? On the inside or the outside? They had to be on the inside because the door opened into the shed. That meant she could remove the pins in the hinges and walk out.
She shone her light on the doorframe. The hinges were there, worn and rusty. If Nancy could slip out the pins, sheâd be free.
Going over to the right-hand door, she tugged at the pin of the upper hinge. To her surprise, it slid free easily. The pin on the bottom hinge, however, was more stubborn. She pulled and pulled, but it refused to budge. Finally she took a hammer from the toolbox. Banging hard, she managed to force the second pin up and out of the hinge.
She stood up, took a deep breath, and then pushed at the edge of the right door. For one frustrating moment it didnât move. Then, with aloud screech, it swung out just enough for Nancy to squeeze through.
The chilly evening air felt wonderful in her lungs after the stale, gasoline smell of the shed. She took out her penlight and shone the small beam of light in front of the shed. A short length of lumber was jammed through the handles of the two doors.
The person who followed her had tried to trap her inside the shed.
Nancy took a last look at the shed, and her penlight shone on a tiny flash of color. She bent down to look. Caught in the edge of the door was a piece of bright orange yarn. She tucked the yarn into her pocket along with the scrap of paper.
Nancy zipped the pocket closed. She shone her light on her watch and gasped. In less than twenty minutes she was supposed to meet the others. She took off at a fast jog up the lane toward the dorm.
As she entered the dorm, Nancy passed a bank of telephone booths. She made a quick decision to call Sergeant Balsam and tell him about the gas can and the label. Despite his negative attitude toward amateur detectives, she still felt that it was important to cooperate with the police.
âWhat is it, Ms. Drew?â the sergeant asked brusquely.
âI think I found where the gasoline came fromand why your searchers missed that jacket earlier,â she said. She told him what she had found in the shed.
âMy officers spotted that gas can this afternoon,â he replied, sounding bored. âIt
Nancy was willing to bet that can of gasoline had been used to drench Robâs coat. Also, his jacket could have been bunched up and hidden in the shed without arousing any suspicion.
Nancyâs penlight flashed on something white lying on the ground next to the gas can. She moved her light closer to the object. It was a scrap of paperâtorn but crisp and white. It had some typing on it. It looked somehow familiar, but whereâ Nancy picked up the paper to read it.
She realized instantly what it wasâa piece of the museum label from the stolen jewels!
Chapter
Nine
N ANCY STARED at the label. What luck! This was exactly the clue she needed. Since the museum tag was in the same place as the gasoline, that meant that the same person was probably responsible for both crimes and for setting up Rob.
Just then the shed door was pulled shut!
Nancyâs first impulse was to run over to the door and try to force it open. But instead she made herself stand still and listen. She couldnât be positive, but she thought she heard someone running up the lane.
Nancy tucked the museum label in her pocket, then moved over to the door and pulled on it. Asshe had expected, it was locked tight. She pulled harder, but still it didnât budge. She thought of yelling for help but didnât think that it would do any good. The shed was pretty isolated, and she doubted that many people would be strolling down to the boat house on a winter evening.
She shone her penlight around the shed again. No windows. Now she had to find some tools to force the door open. Her penlight revealed a battered metal toolbox on a shelf. Before Nancy checked it out, she paused to think. Where were the hinges? On the inside or the outside? They had to be on the inside because the door opened into the shed. That meant she could remove the pins in the hinges and walk out.
She shone her light on the doorframe. The hinges were there, worn and rusty. If Nancy could slip out the pins, sheâd be free.
Going over to the right-hand door, she tugged at the pin of the upper hinge. To her surprise, it slid free easily. The pin on the bottom hinge, however, was more stubborn. She pulled and pulled, but it refused to budge. Finally she took a hammer from the toolbox. Banging hard, she managed to force the second pin up and out of the hinge.
She stood up, took a deep breath, and then pushed at the edge of the right door. For one frustrating moment it didnât move. Then, with aloud screech, it swung out just enough for Nancy to squeeze through.
The chilly evening air felt wonderful in her lungs after the stale, gasoline smell of the shed. She took out her penlight and shone the small beam of light in front of the shed. A short length of lumber was jammed through the handles of the two doors.
The person who followed her had tried to trap her inside the shed.
Nancy took a last look at the shed, and her penlight shone on a tiny flash of color. She bent down to look. Caught in the edge of the door was a piece of bright orange yarn. She tucked the yarn into her pocket along with the scrap of paper.
Nancy zipped the pocket closed. She shone her light on her watch and gasped. In less than twenty minutes she was supposed to meet the others. She took off at a fast jog up the lane toward the dorm.
As she entered the dorm, Nancy passed a bank of telephone booths. She made a quick decision to call Sergeant Balsam and tell him about the gas can and the label. Despite his negative attitude toward amateur detectives, she still felt that it was important to cooperate with the police.
âWhat is it, Ms. Drew?â the sergeant asked brusquely.
âI think I found where the gasoline came fromand why your searchers missed that jacket earlier,â she said. She told him what she had found in the shed.
âMy officers spotted that gas can this afternoon,â he replied, sounding bored. âIt
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