Nancy dashed under the eave of the barn. The pitchfork landed in the soft earth just inches from her feet, steel prongs quivering with the impact.
Nancy looked at it in horror and relief. Then she noticed a piece of white paper impaled upon one of the knife-sharp prongs.
With shaky fingers, Nancy bent forward to pick up the pitchfork and remove the paper.
It was a note, written in crude block letters: “Mind your own business, Blondie, or worse will happen!”
11
Horsing Around
Nancy looked up at the roof of the barn again. Who’d thrown that pitchfork at her? An inch closer, and she would have been badly hurt.
She didn’t see anyone. Quickly, she ran around to the back of the barn. No one was on that side of the roof, either.
Glancing around, Nancy noticed that the woods stopped only a few feet from the back of the barn. Not only that, but the back roof sloped down to a small hill. Someone could have scrambled down and jumped the four feet from the roof to the grass.
Whoever threw the pitchfork, she though, must be hiding in those woods. Was it the same dark-haired man she’d seen sneaking around Alexa’s house?
And was that man Mark Plonsky?
Nancy slipped the note that had been impaled on the pitchfork into her pocket. Just then she heard a thudding noise inside the barn. She caught her breath. What if she’d been wrong about the woods, and her attacker was hiding in the barn?
She decided to check inside, just in case. Nerves tingling with apprehension, she peered into the dim, cavernous space. If the person who’d thrown the pitchfork was hiding inside, Nancy knew she could get trapped. Calm down, Drew, she told herself. This is a piece of cake compared with some of your other cases.
Cautiously, Nancy entered the barn and glanced around, letting her eyes get accustomed to the barn’s darkness. The Shaws’ barn had fewer stalls than the Passanos’—only five or six—and it had a low hayloft. Was that where the pitchfork had come from?
Nancy climbed the ladder to the loft and looked around. Several bales of hay were stacked there, but otherwise nothing. From this vantage point, she could see the main part of the barn below her. Other than one horse peacefully munching hay, Nancy saw no signs of life there.
She examined the ceiling next but saw no evidence of a trap door. The thudding noise she’d heard must have been made by the horse, Nancy mused.
Discouraged, Nancy leaned out through a window in the hayloft. To the right, she saw George holding a bridle and craning her neck around—looking for her, Nancy guessed. Nancy scooted down from the loft and started out the barn door to join George. Suddenly, she came face-to-face with Alexa.
“Oh!” Nancy said, surprised. “Hi. I’m looking for George.”
“She’s right there,” Alexa said, giving Nancy an odd look. She pointed in the direction of Nancy’s car. “I was just talking to her. She’s got the bridle.”
What was Alexa doing at the barn? Nancy wondered. Could she have thrown the pitchfork? She would have had enough time to run up here after Nancy and George left her down at the Shaws’ house. Even though Alexa seemed cool and calm, Nancy sensed the blond girl was good at putting up a front.
As though reading Nancy’s thoughts, Alexa explained, “I’m here to check on my horse’s leg. Unfortunately, she’s still laid up. By the way,” she went on, “as I was telling George, I put a pie in the backseat of your car. It’s for the Passanos—from my mother.”
“Thank you,” Nancy said. “And thank your mom for us.” Privately, Nancy wondered how someone as friendly as Mrs. Shaw could have a daughter as cold as Alexa.
Should she tell Alexa about the pitchfork? She might as well, she decided. She was curious to see Alexa’s reaction.
“How awful!” Alexa exclaimed after Nancy had told her. Her eyes were wide with horror.
Nancy was surprised. Alexa seemed genuinely concerned. Still, Nancy thought, Alexa might be a very good actress. If she was behind these pranks, she’d need to put on a pretty good acting job.
After a pause, Alexa said, “Maybe someone left the pitchfork on the roof by mistake. I’ll have to talk to Eddie about that. He mows the lawn and does a little work around our stables.”
“But why would he leave a pitchfork on the roof?” Nancy asked.
“Don’t ask me,” Alexa replied with a shrug.
Nancy debated whether to show Alexa the note stuck to the pitchfork, but she decided not to. If Alexa didn’t know that Nancy was a detective, why give herself away by showing her the note?
After saying goodbye to Alexa, Nancy walked off to join George, who was now in the car. “Hi, Nan,” George said. “Where have you been?”
“Dodging pitchforks,” Nancy said, grinning as she opened the car door. Once inside, Nancy told George about the pitchfork and the note.
George looked anxiously at her friend. “It seems like this case is heating up. You’d better be careful, Nan.”
“Don’t worry, George, I’m always careful,” Nancy said. “But I’m glad things are heating up. It means the culprit thinks we’re onto something.
“The note tells us that he or she knows we’re investigating this case,” Nancy went on. “Peter Greenbriar is the only suspect who knows I’m a detective, but he could have told Charles Jackson. And Mr. Jackson knew we were coming over here. Remember, there’s a shortcut through the woods between his property and the Shaws’. Either he or Peter Greenbriar could have followed us and thrown the pitchfork.”
“But don’t you think it was the dark-haired man you saw running off?” George asked.
“Possibly, but we have no proof,” Nancy said. “I wonder if he overheard us talking about our investigation. We need to check Mark Plonsky’s house anyway. But I don’t know where he lives.”
George glanced at her watch. “It’s six o’clock already. The Passanos are expecting us for dinner.”
Nancy sighed. “I guess you’re right,” she said. “We should go back to Sky Meadow. But I hate having to stop now. I feel like we’re finally on a roll.”
Back at Sky Meadow Farm, Nancy took a shower, then went downstairs to help Mrs. Passano set the table for dinner.
“Did you and George discover anything today?” Mrs. Passano asked hopefully.
