Free A Race Against Time by Carolyn Keene Page B

that’s where I saw you.”
    He narrowed his eyes as I spoke. His shoulders seemed to tense up as he studied me. Did he remember bumping into me as he was chased offstage away from the safe?
    “Oh, yeah, that must be it,” he finally said. He took a deep breath and appeared to relax.
    He was kind of seedy-looking up close. If he’d shaved that morning, he hadn’t done a very goodjob. Or maybe he was trying to grow a beard, and it was in that stage where it just made the lower half of his face look dirty. His black jersey was faded, and fraying threads hung from the ends of his sleeves. His sneakers were caked with muddy clumps.
    “I’m sure I saw you with a bike this morning,” I persisted. “That must have been why I thought you were on one of the teams. I’m a big fan. That’s my road racer out there.”
    Red Shorts looked out the window at my bike in the rack. “Pretty cool,” he said.
    “I have your order ready,” Susie said, coming up behind Red Shorts with a tray. “Where would you like to sit?”
    “You can join me if you want,” I suggested. “I love to talk about bikes.”
    Susie gave me an odd look—almost a frown, but not quite. I could tell from her expression that she thought Red Shorts and I were an odd match. She probably wondered why I was even talking to him, let alone inviting him to sit at my table. She tilted her head slightly. Red Shorts couldn’t see her because she was still behind him.
    I raised my eyebrow and shook my head slightly. She’s known me for a long time and knows I’m adetective, so I took a shot and hoped she’d understand my gesture.
    I could almost see her adding up the facts—Nancy’s left the race, Nancy’s talking to this weird guy, Nancy must be on a case. I knew she’d gotten the message when she smiled and spoke up.
    “Good idea,” she said, putting Red Shorts’s sandwich and coffee in front of an empty chair at my table, and then handing me my muffin and latte. “Enjoy.”
    She left quickly to go back to the kitchen, her straight hair flipping from side to side. Red Shorts paused for a minute, then pulled out the chair and sat down.
    “My name’s Nancy,” I said, holding out my hand. I decided not to tell him my last name. I’d never seen him before this morning, but I’m often surprised to learn that people who’ve never met me have still heard of me.
    “Jasper,” he responded.
    He held out a thin, long-fingered, grubby hand. He barely clasped mine, then took his hand back and wiped it on his napkin. I wished he’d done that before he touched me. His hand felt oily, sort of slimy.
    “Is that your first name or your last?” I asked. I couldn’t tell and didn’t know whether to call him “Mr. Jasper” or not.
    “Just Jasper,” he said, taking a huge slurp of steaming Americano.
    He looked out the window again. “So that’s yours, huh? I’m surprised you’re not in the race. You could make some real time on that thing. It’s pretty slick.”
    “Yeah, well, all the teams were filled by the time I considered it,” I said, sipping my latte and breaking off a piece of my muffin. “What about you? How come you’re not out there?”
    He didn’t answer at first, opting to take an enormous bite out of his wrap. “This is really good,” he said. He wasn’t exactly talking to me. He was just announcing it into the air.
    He whipped his head around and yelled at Susie. “Fix me another one of these wraps, okay?” he yelled. “Man, I’m hungry.”
    “You got it,” Susie called back.
    A group of six chattering college-student-types came through the door and took a long table with benches next to the far wall. I didn’t know any of them, and I was relieved about that. I didn’t want anyone recognizing me and asking me about my team in front of Jasper.
    “I don’t have a road bike,” Jasper said, finally coming back to my question. “Or any bike, for that matter. This morning I had a mountain bike. But there aren’ttoo many