Free Into Thin Air by Carolyn Keene Page B

wasn’t too far off.
    The super laughed. “You government people sure get things mixed up. No, he doesn’t have the guts for something like that. Wilson’s a specialist.” They reached the first floor landing. “He was in for forgery. Had a regular factory up there cranking put phony IDs, social security cards, driver’s licenses, passports, the whole bit.”
    Nancy snapped her fingers. “Of course, it was stupid of me to forget. And I just read his file this morning.”
    â€œYeah, well, read it again,” the super told her. He opened the door and motioned for her to leave by jerking his head toward the street.
    Nancy stepped out into the late afternoon sun. Forgery? She shook her head, mystified. Once again she looked up at the sixth-floor windows. They were empty. But the open window where she had spotted the man watching her was now closed.
    Whatever the super and the woman in 6R said, someone had been in that apartment. And if what they’d told her was true, it wasn’t Artie Wilson.
    Bess and George trotted around the side of the building and ran up to her.
    â€œWhat happened?” George asked anxiously.
    â€œYou first,” Nancy said. “Did anyone leave the building through the back door?”
    George shook her head. “Nope. Not that we saw, and we’ve been standing there ever since you went inside.”
    â€œHow about you, Nan? Find anybody?” Bess asked.
    â€œI found out there’s a forger by the name of Artie Wilson who lives in the apartment where I saw the man in the window. But he’s in prison.”
    â€œSo do you believe Mark now?” George asked. “Do you actually think Johnson is alive?”
    Nancy pursed her lips and nodded. “It certainly seems like a possibility.”
    Bess let out a low whistle. “But how, Nancy? After a helicopter explosion like that?”
    â€œThat’s the next thing we’re going to find out, Bess,” Nancy told her friend. They had reached her car and she stopped at the curb. “Wait right here, you two. I want to make a few phone calls. I won’t be long.”
    Nancy trotted over to a nearby telephone booth. Her first call was to Mark at the pizza parlor.
    â€œHi, Nancy. I’m on the other line. Can I call you back?” he asked.
    â€œThis’ll just take a minute,” she told him. “I wanted you to know I’m going to charter a helicopter for tomorrow night. I want to duplicate Johnson’s last ride. It may teach us something.”
    â€œGood idea,” Mark said. “It worked when we found those mangled sunglasses.”
    â€œI’ll call you to let you know the time,” she said before she hung up.
    Nancy’s second call was to Mac MacIlvaney, “Mac? I need to charter a helicopter for tomorrow night. I’d like to go up at exactly the same time Johnson made his ride.”
    â€œThat would be about seven-fifteen,” he answered. “What’s this all about?”
    â€œI’ll fill you in tomorrow night, Mac,” shesaid, quickly hanging up. She made a third phone call to Chief McGinnis at the River Heights Police Department and managed to catch him just as he was leaving for the day.
    â€œArthur Wilson?” McGinnis said when Nancy inquired about the forger. “A convicted felon, as I recall. Hang on, I’ll see what I can find out.”
    A minute later the chief came back on the line. “Yup, we got him here, Nancy. He violated his parole in a minor way, so a judge ordered him to serve another two months of his sentence. He’s due out in two days, on Friday at five o’clock.”
    â€œAny chance I can visit him in jail before then?” Nancy asked.
    â€œDuring regular visiting hours, sure.” McGinnis sounded alarmed. “Say, what do you want to see him for? He’s not a pleasant character.”
    â€œJust following my nose,” Nancy told him. “I have