Free False Notes by Carolyn Keene

a burger?”
    “Oh, yeah!” George’s eyes lit up. She glanced from one side of the menu board to the other, lookingconflicted. “They both sound great. Then again, so does the double bratwurst special.”
    Bess licked her lips. “Ooh, that does sound good. But I’m trying to stay away from the heavy stuff.” She patted her belly. “I think I’ll have the turkey on rye.…”
    I tapped my foot impatiently as the cousins continued to debate the menu. I could almost hear the seconds ticking away on the big chrome clock over the shop’s door. Was Leslie counting the seconds too, wherever she was? Were her parents counting the seconds until their daughter returned?
    As I’d told my friends, I’d been too busy at the tag sale to think much about the case. But now that I had a moment, I realized that I really had no idea how to proceed. I was sure I had the answers in this case—but how could I prove them? If I went to Chief McGinnis and told him what I believed, he would think I was crazy.
    I’d have to figure out a way to tie Granger to Leslie’s disappearance. I considered trying the fake-interview trick again, but quickly shrugged off that idea. Granger was used to tough business negotiations; a few pointed questions weren’t likely to force a confession out of a man like him. Besides, setting up such an interview would probably take too long, especially since I couldn’t reach Ned. I chewed mylower lip, trying to come up with other options.
    Finally Bess and George made up their minds. We placed our sandwich orders with the short, grizzled old man behind the counter.
    “All right, girls,” he said in a slow, lightly accented voice. “Have a seat over there if you like. I’ll give you a holler when they’re ready.”
    I felt like shouting, “Hurry! Hurry!” as the little man shuffled slowly over to the wooden bin full of rolls behind the counter. His unhurried, deliberate movements seemed to taunt me, to remind me that time was passing and I wasn’t making any progress on the mystery. Deciding it was probably better not to drive myself crazy by watching him, I turned and followed my friends back to their table.
    “Okay, Nancy,” George said as she flopped into a chair. “I can tell you’re really distracted—otherwise, why would you order a boring sandwich like plain turkey on white? Come on, girl. Condiments were invented for a reason!”
    “Sorry, but I don’t have time to figure out exciting sandwich combinations right now,” I said, carefully keeping my voice low so that the other customers in the shop wouldn’t overhear. “I’m too busy thinking about how to prove that Morris Granger kidnapped Leslie.”
    “You know, I hate to say it, but the more I think about your theory, the more far-fetched it seems,” Bess told me, looking troubled. “I mean, I’m not crazy about some outsider coming in and wanting to be mayor of River Heights. Especially someone who might have his eye on Rackham Industries. But I’ve seen Mr. Granger on TV and stuff, and he really doesn’t seem like the criminal type.”
    “And we didn’t find any dirt on him online, remember?” George added. “Why would a guy like him stoop to kidnapping all of a sudden?”
    I frowned. “I don’t know,” I said. “That’s why they call it a mystery.” I wasn’t thrilled about their attitudes. If we were going to help Leslie, we had to act fast, not waste time arguing.
    “Why don’t you just wait until tomorrow morning and see if she turns up for that audition?” George suggested. “That way, you’ll know if there really is a mystery.”
    I shook my head. “That just means wasting another half a day, which Mrs. Simmons could use to fill out that paperwork,” I said. “Besides, if Leslie misses her audition, people are really going to notice. They were already gossiping about her missing the recital, remember? What if someone gets so worried that they call the police?”
    George shrugged. “So what if they