“Do you want to come in for some lemonade or something?”
Johnny looked over at Mollie and shrugged. “Sure.” He opened the car door and got out. “Actually, it’s almost time for dinner. I should be getting home soon.” Johnny lived with his grandmother and his younger sister, Katie, who was six. Mollie knew that Johnny helped out a lot at home, but picturing him cooking dinner was a bit of a stretch. Johnny Chelios—with an apron over his black leather jacket?
“Just come in for a few minutes,” Mollie said. “I want to talk about how we’re going to solve this case.”
“Have you been watching Jake and the Fatman?” Johnny asked as they walked into the kitchen. “You’ve got the TV detective lingo down and everything.”
Mollie grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, and Johnny sat down at the table in the corner. “No lemonade,” Mollie said, inspecting the refrigerator contents. “How about iced tea?”
“Sounds great,” Johnny said. “I got mighty thirsty sitting in the car.”
Mollie laughed. “You sound like a dog.”
“Oh, thanks.” Johnny tipped his chair back against the wall. “I love you, too.”
“Hello, Mollie.” Mollie’s father walked in from the living room. “I thought I heard you come in.” He looked at Johnny, who gently slid his chair back onto the floor.
“Hi, Dad. You know Johnny Chelios.” Mollie poured the iced tea and put it on the table. She hoped her father wasn’t going to embarrass her.
“Hello,” Eric Fox said sternly.
“Hey,” Johnny replied. “How’s it going?”
Mollie’s father grunted and left the room.
“Don’t mind him, he probably had a lousy day at work.” Mollie sipped her iced tea.
“Yeah, right.” Johnny downed his iced tea in one long gulp. “Listen, I’d better take off.”
“But we haven’t talked about—”
“Yeah. I know.” Johnny stood up and put his glass in the sink. “I’ll talk to you later.” Before Mollie could say anything else, he was out the door, heading down the driveway to his car.
A few minutes later her father walked into the kitchen again. Mollie was sitting at the table, thinking about Meredith, and the Whistler Agency, and the two airplane tickets in her pocket.
“Did your friend leave?” her father asked.
“Yes,” Mollie said.
“Good. I don’t want you hanging around alone with that guy. You’ve been seeing too much of him as it is.”
“What?”
“You heard me, Mollie. His father’s in jail for arson. Johnny has a record, too. He’s not exactly the guy I want you to go out with.”
“Dad! I’m not dating Johnny Chelios,” Mollie said, adding the word “yet” in her head. “Anyway, even if I wanted to, it’s none of your business.”
“None of my business? Mollie, I’m your father. I don’t want to see you going out with someone dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Johnny is not dangerous. He’s just, well … he’s just a little unpredictable,” Mollie argued.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” her father said. “I mean, what’s wrong with Jordan? He’s a nice guy—no problems, no hassles, no police record—”
“Trust me, Dad, okay?” Mollie interrupted. “You’ve said more than once that I’m a good judge of character.”
Eric Fox sighed. “All right—maybe I am being over-protective. I do trust you. But I still think you should be careful.”
“I will be. Hey, Dad, I was talking to Meredith today. I know she’s innocent, and I was wondering … is there anything you can do to help?”
“Not a thing. It’s out of my jurisdiction.” Eric Fox opened the oven and peered inside. “Looks like the casserole’s almost done. Why don’t you go get Rosemary and Donny? I’ll make up a salad. Your mother’s going to be home in ten minutes.”
Her father always tried to change the subject when Mollie asked him about police work. It was a game they played. Mollie just kept asking questions until he broke down. “So who’s handling the case?” Mollie prodded. “Anyone I know?”
Silence.
“I was just wondering, because whoever it is,” Mollie went on, “must not know Meredith very well to think she’d be involved in drugs. But then again, maybe someone has a vendetta against her family, and it’s one of those local-politics things like the time back in Iowa when the county fair was sabotaged by—”
“All right! I give up!” Eric Fox threw the pot holder in the air. “His name is Detective Benjamin. I don’t know him very well, but I’ve heard he’s tough to deal with.”
“Why’s that?”
“It could just be grumbling, but one detective I know had to work with him on a case. Whenever he suggested a new approach, Benjamin didn’t listen. He’d already made up his mind about what happened.”
“Doesn’t sound too good for Meredith,” Mollie said. “But how come Benjamin is still on the force if people keep complaining about him?”
“Politics. It’s all politics.”
Politics. That made Mollie think about Dayton Hughes and his gubernatorial campaign. She felt more confused than she had before she’d seen Meredith. “Dad, don’t you ever wonder what’s going on in this town?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” Mollie decided it would be best to keep her father in the dark for the time being. “It’s just … I don’t think we’re in Onagle anymore.”
“Your Honor, I would like to submit Exhibit A,” the prosecutor said as he placed a small plastic bag on the judge’s desk along with a tin of tea. Mollie had never been in a courthouse before. She’d seen them on television, and in movies, but she’d never appreciated just how real—and how scary—they could be.
On one side of the room Meredith was sitting at a table with her father. On the other side, the prosecutor was sitting with Detective Benjamin.
Mollie and the rest of the Mall Rats, except for Johnny, were in the back of the room watching the pretrial arraignment. It was one o’clock on Wednesday afternoon; they’d cut out of school early. So far the prosecutor had painted Meredith as an irresponsible, spoiled brat with a serious drug problem.
“Is he talking about the same Meredith we know?” Jaime asked.
Next, the prosecutor presented several hair strands, which he said proved conclusively that Meredith was a heavy cocaine user. “This hair was subjected to a spectrographic analysis, which showed that cocaine metabolites were present in the hair cells. Since cocaine is metabolized quickly, it would not show up in spectroanalysis unless the individual repeatedly and consistently ingested large amounts of the drug,” he said. “The analysis, and the length of the hair strands, show that Meredith Hughes has been abusing cocaine for the last three years.”
“Yeah, Meredith got hooked when she was thirteen,” Sherman said. “She could hardly keep it together in junior high.”
“Do you believe this guy?” Roberta said.
Mollie shook her head. “I don’t know where they got their proof, but they’ve got it. That’s all it takes—solid evidence.”
“That’s someone else’s hair,” Jaime said. “No way is that Meredith’s.”
Derek Hughes presented a short defense, and then the judge announced that there was enough evidence to hold Meredith over for trial. The trial date was set for six weeks from the following day.
“This is a setup if I’ve ever seen one,” Sherman said as they stood up to leave.
“Have you ever seen one?” Roberta asked.
“Well, no,” Sherman answered.
The courtroom was full of other people awaiting arraignments. Outside in the hallway, they waited for Meredith to come out so they could talk to her. They weren’t the only ones waiting—a few television crews were standing by the doorway, with reporters from various stations ready to pounce.
Derek Hughes finally opened the heavy doors and came into the hallway, followed by Meredith, who kept her head down. “No comment,” Mr. Hughes told the press. “No comment.”
Mollie hurried over to them. “Will you come talk to us for a minute?” she asked.
Derek Hughes didn’t seem pleased, but he stepped off to the side.
“Mollie, I didn’t do it,” Meredith said. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Mollie assured her. She turned to Mr. Hughes. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
Derek Hughes frowned. “I know you mean well, but it’s best if you don’t meddle,” he said. “Now if you kids don’t mind, I have to get back to the office. I’m very busy.”
“At least tell us if there is any hope,” Roberta said.
“Well, Detective Benjamin did offer us a plea bargain,” Mr. Hughes said.
“Yes. He’s offered to drop the charges if you tell the police who you got the drugs from.”
“But I didn’t get the drugs from anyone,” Meredith protested. “Someone put them in my bag. Daddy, don’t you believe me?”
Derek Hughes’s expression softened a little. “Yes, of course I do. I told Benjamin to forget about it. However, as your lawyer, I’m obligated to mention the offer to you.” He shook his head. “Meredith, I don’t know if I should be handling your case. I’m too upset to do a good job.”
“Daddy, you have to,” Meredith said. “If anyone can prove I’m innocent, you can.”
“Thanks for the confidence.” Derek Hughes eyed the reporters in the hallway. “Let’s get out of here before they descend on us again.”
“Okay.” Meredith let herself be led away by her father. “I’ll see you guys later,” she called back.
“Yeah, later,” Mollie said.
“What do you think of him?” Jaime asked once Meredith and her father were gone. “Wasn’t he acting nervous?”
“Sure, but I’d be nervous, too, in his shoes,” Roberta said.
“You’d look pretty funny in wing tips,” Sherman added.
Roberta frowned at him. “The prosecution sure has a lot of incriminating evidence,” she said to Mollie, as they walked out of the courthouse.
“All bogus, remember,” Mollie said.
“Look, there’s Chelios,” Sherman said, pointing across the street where Johnny’s Chrysler was parked. Johnny was sitting on the hood, his eyes shaded by sunglasses. “The Eternal Cool One.”
They walked over to him. “Hey, why didn’t you come in?” Mollie asked.
“I don’t get along with courthouses too well,” Johnny said. “So what happened?”
“They set the trial for six weeks from tomorrow,” Roberta said.
“Ouch,” Johnny said. “Well, I spent the day trolling for info. I think I talked to every lowlife in Bayside.”
“And did your friends know anything?” Mollie asked.
“Good one,” Sherman said.
“Are you clowns done?” Johnny asked. “As I was saying, everyone’s being super careful. That bust scared a lot of people. I mean, if someone as innocent looking as Meredith can get nabbed, then these guys have a lot to worry about.”
“It does seem pretty convenient,” Roberta said. “The way they were waiting for her, and all.”
“They must have seen the stuff in X-ray,” Sherman said, “and figured out she wasn’t carrying a couple of ounces of white flour back home.”
“This whole thing makes no sense,” Mollie cried. “She says she didn’t do it, but who in the world would have set her up—in New York? She doesn’t even know anyone there.”
“Except her sister,” Jaime pointed out.
“Sounds wacked, but it could be her,” Johnny said. “From what you said, Meredith’s sister is no angel.”
“Hey, I want to head over to the Truth Line,” Mollie said. “I haven’t manned the phones in a couple of days, and I want to hear what people are talking about. Why don’t you guys come over to my house tonight?”
“For a fun-filled family evening?” Johnny kicked a pebble with his black boot. “I’ll pass.”
“My parents are going out to dinner, and my brother and sister are going over to my aunt’s,” Mollie explained.
“Well, in that case, I’ll be over at eight,” Johnny said.
“I’ll pick up some pizzas at Artie’s,” Sherman said. “Which reminds me, we didn’t hear anything good the other night, except that Chucky Duva wants to go out with you, Roberta.”
Roberta grimaced. “You’re joking.” Chucky was Bayside High’s biggest thug, complete with a tattooed right arm and a head as thick as a tire from a monster truck—his vehicle of choice.
“I’d better take off,” Mollie said. “See you all tonight.”
“Does he really want to go out with me?” Roberta asked, as Mollie walked over to her Jeep.
“Yeah, he thinks you’re better looking than his last girlfriend,” Jaime said.
“You mean Angela Carbajal?” Roberta asked.
“No, Elvira, Mistress of the Dark,” Sherman said, and he and Jaime cracked up.
Mollie had been monitoring the Truth Line for about an hour when the call came in. The three topics everyone had been talking about that afternoon were: the chances of another earthquake hitting Bayside, the new school rule about “objectional behavior in study hall,” and Meredith Hughes.
“I say she got what was coming to her,” one girl said. “She thinks she’s better than anyone else in this town. I’m glad she got caught. She’s probably been getting away with it for a long time.”
Mollie sighed. Why did everyone hate Meredith so much? Sure, she was a little standoffish, but it was just because she was shy.
Another call came in, and Mollie pressed the button to add the caller to the open line. “Don’t be so cruel,” the new female voice said.
“Why not?” the first girl retorted.
“Because …” The new caller’s voice trembled. “You don’t know what’s going on. You don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand?” someone else asked. “She got nailed.”
“But she’s innocent!” the caller pleaded. Then she hung up.
Mollie stared at the speaker phone. There was no question in her mind. The caller had been Meredith.