“That’s still a pretty big leap,” Nancy said.
“I don’t know,” Marisa said. “I’ve been going over my grandmother’s financial statements, and they’re a mess. If my grandmother was such a whiz at the stock market, why couldn’t she balance her checkbook?”
“What does that have to do with Penny?” Bess asked.
“I think Penny altered my grandmother’s checkbook to make it seem as if she had less money than she really did. Then she pocketed the difference.”
Marisa bit her lip. “I know it sounds like a wild accusation, but I have a bad feeling about Penny. She seems too anxious to give up on the school in River Heights.” Marisa drummed her fingers on the table. “Oh, I don’t know. Does anyone have any other ideas?”
“Not tonight. I’m too tired.” Bess yawned. “Come on, Casey. It’s time for bed.”
George stood. “I’d better get going, too. I was up at the crack of dawn this morning. See you all tomorrow.” She walked with Bess to take Casey out.
Marisa stood up. “I’m exhausted, too. Good night, Nancy.”
“Good night,” Nancy said wearily.
Nancy wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep in her own cozy bed. Still, she didn’t feel comfortable leaving Bess alone with Marisa. She wanted to believe Marisa’s and Devon’s stories. She truly liked both of them. But she also knew she had no proof that either of them was telling the truth.
Nancy heard the door open when Bess returned with Casey. “Bess? Do you mind if I spend the night, too?”
“You still don’t trust Marisa, do you?” Bess spoke quietly.
Nancy shook her head. “I wish I did, but I’m not sure.”
“I’m sure,” Bess said. “But if it will make you feel better, by all means—stay.” She smiled. “You can cook us breakfast in the morning. Something special for Marisa’s birthday. Speaking of which—Café Olé has reopened, so Marisa’s party is on for tomorrow night. Eric told me when I went to get Marisa today. You’re in charge of getting her there on time. Okay?”
“Will do,” Nancy said with a yawn. Tomorrow sounded like a long day. Right now all she wanted was a good night’s sleep. She hoped Casey would sleep through the night.
As it turned out, Casey slept soundly, but Nancy did not. She tossed and turned on the sofa bed in the den, which creaked every time she moved.
During one of her wakeful periods, she came up with a plan. First thing in the morning, she would go to the library and borrow a book on Braille. If she could look at Emmaline’s papers and decipher them herself, then she would be satisfied, she decided. She would know whether Marisa was telling the truth.
In the morning Nancy fed and watered the dogs. She then set the table, poured three glasses of orange juice, and cooked blueberry pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs for three.
Marisa yawned as she sat down at the table. Nancy set a plate in front of her. “Happy birthday,” she said in as cheery a voice as she could muster.
Marisa smiled. “Thanks.” She reached out and touched the warm plate. “Uh . . . I hope you didn’t go to a lot of trouble, Nancy. It’s nothing personal, but I can’t stand the thought of food before nine o’clock in the morning.”
“Oh,” Nancy said. “No. After all, it’s your birthday.”
Marisa sipped some orange juice. “This should hold me till lunch.”
Bess stood up and took a box of cornflakes from the cupboard.
Nancy’s eyes widened. “This isn’t enough food for you? You’re having cereal, too?”
“I’m having only cereal,” Bess said apologetically. “I weighed myself this morning. I’ve been eating too many cookies. I need to go on a diet.”
Nancy poured syrup over her stack of pancakes. “So what should I do with all this food?”
“I’ll take it to George,” Bess said. “She’s loading up on carbohydrates before her next race.”
“Good,” Nancy said. She finished her pancakes, then quickly did the dishes before taking Marisa to school.
After she dropped off Marisa, Nancy headed home to pick up the book she had borrowed on counterfeiting. Then she drove to the central library, where she returned the book along with Bess’s copy of Raising a Well-Adjusted Puppy.
In the nonfiction section, Nancy found the book Bess had requested on dog-obedience training. She also found five books about blindness. None of them, however, had a copy of the Braille alphabet. Nancy went up to one of the librarians and explained what she was looking for. “We’ve had many requests for books on blindness and guide dogs since Emmaline Whitby’s bequest to the Guiding Eyes.” The librarian smiled. “Mrs. Whitby would be ecstatic. She was a great benefactor of our library. We miss her.”
The librarian took off her reading glasses. “Unfortunately, the library owns only one book with a copy of the Braille alphabet. I happen to know this because another person requested the same information a few weeks ago, and he checked out the book. I can find out when it’s due, if you’d like.”
“Thanks,” Nancy said. “That would be helpful.”
The librarian typed some information into the computer. “Hmm . . .” she said. “The young man who checked it out is one of our library volunteers. I believe Eric’s due to work this afternoon. Maybe he’ll return the book then.”
“Eric Pavlik?” Nancy asked.
The librarian nodded. “Do you know him?”
“Yes,” Nancy said. “He seems to be a dedicated volunteer.”
“Oh, yes,” the librarian said. “A hard worker, and very intelligent. Because of his volunteer work with the visually impaired, he wants to learn everything he can about the Guiding Eyes.” The librarian pulled a reference book from a shelf behind her. “If you’d like, I can give you the telephone number of the Braille Institute. I’m sure they could provide you with the information you need.”
Nancy copied down the phone number. She thanked the librarian for her help and walked to the front desk to check out Bess’s book. As she passed through the periodicals section, she decided to try looking up Marisa’s parents’ obituaries. After all, Nancy thought, she still had only Marisa’s word that Susan Whitby had died.
Nancy sat down at the microfiche reader and skimmed through pages of obituaries from the Milwaukee newspaper. Without too much trouble, she found a notice that Raymond and Susan Whitby Henares had been killed in a car accident a little less than two years earlier. According to the paper, they were survived by one daughter, Marisa, and Raymond’s mother, Luz, who lived in the Philippines. There was no mention of Emmaline Whitby.
Nancy looked at the picture of Marisa’s parents. They were young, smiling, happy. They looked as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
