Answers and questions

“Ibrahim?” I exclaimed out loud, staring at the screen. A second later my cell phone rang. “I’m sorry, Nancy!” Ibrahim cried when I answered. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

“So it really is you?” I asked him, still stunned. “But I don’t understand.”

“It is silly, I know.” He let out a loud sigh. “After what happened with my other avatar, I thought I might create a second one to use instead — you know, until things cooled down. Besides, I thought it might give me the chance to hang out with you more, especially if I made the new avatar the type of guy you might like. I was on BetterLife during study hall just now and saw you log on, so I thought I’d say hi.”

I stared at MrNiceGuy, who was still frozen on the computer screen. He was the physical opposite of Ibrahim in almost every way. What had made Ibrahim assume I went for the tall, blond, hunky, and aggressive type, anyway? It was more than a little icky to think about him pondering such things, and I couldn’t help wondering if there was more to this than he was telling me. Could he possibly be involved with the rest of the mystery? After all, he knew Ned as well as anyone — well enough to fake being him online, perhaps…?

But I quickly realized Ibrahim couldn’t possibly be the culprit. For one thing, he’d been with me when that first message from UrNewReality had popped up in my in-box. Even if he’d been able to arrange that somehow, there was no way he could have sabotaged my car or pointed that laser at his sister or tossed that rock at me. And as much as I might be doubting my own abilities when it came to sleuthing online, in the real world I still trusted my instincts. And they were telling me that Ibrahim was exactly what he seemed — an innocent kid who’d made a mistake and was now owning up to it.

“It’s okay, Ibrahim,” I said. “No harm done. I’m sorry for overreacting. It’s just with everything that’s been happening…”

“No, no, please, Nancy,” he said earnestly. “It is me who is sorry! I should have thought more clearly about how this could seem to you.”

I said good-bye and hung up, then told Bess and George what Ibrahim had said. “We should have guessed,” George commented. “After all, there’s a thin line between trailing around after someone like a lovesick puppy and online stalking.”

“Oh, come on. He’s not that bad.”

“Face it, Nancy,” Bess put in. “The kid is head over heels. I know you can be a little clueless about these things, but even you have to see it!”

The conversation was definitely taking an uncomfortable turn. And more important, a pointless one.

“Never mind that,” I said briskly, sticking my phone back in my pocket and turning toward the keyboard again. “Now that we know Mr. Nice Guy’s not connected to the case —”

“We do?” George interrupted. “Are you sure about that? What if Ibrahim set up that whole attack on his avatar as a twisted way to get closer to you? He’s pretty good with computers, right?”

“Not that good,” I said. “Anyway, he definitely didn’t do most of the bad stuff that’s been happening. He didn’t have the opportunity. Like the rock at the overlook, for instance — he was at Ned’s house under the watchful eyes of his parents at the time that was happening.”

Bess nodded. “Good point. Anyway, I can’t believe he’d do anything like that. He’s a sweet person.”

“Now that that’s settled, let’s move on.” I stared at the computer screen, where MrNiceGuy had just winked out of existence. I guessed Ibrahim’s study hall was over. “At least we’ve got one red herring out of the way. So let’s focus on our other suspects.”

“You mean that NedNick guy and Guitarlvr15?” Bess asked.

I shrugged. “I was thinking more of the real-life person behind the avatar,” I said. “It’s starting to feel kind of ridiculous to go chasing all these fake people around a fake world.”

“But that’s kind of the point,” George argued. “Whoever is doing this obviously has mad computer skills.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t really narrow things down much.” I shrugged. “I mean, most people these days have at least some level of computer competence, right?”

George smirked. “You mean aside from you?”

“Very funny.” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, it’s almost impossible to tell who might have the additional skills to pull off some of these stunts. And unless and until we find a way into the BetterLife system ourselves, we won’t be able to track down who’s behind the avatars that way.”

“So what are you saying — that this case is hopeless?” Bess sounded surprised.

“Maybe,” I said. “At least if you’re talking about solving it online. Our culprit is just too computer savvy — he or she isn’t likely to slip up there, at least not in any way we’re capable of catching.” I shrugged. “But in the real world? That’s another story.”

“I think I see what you mean.” Bess leaned on the computer desk and twirled one strand of blond hair around her finger. “The bad guy’s been a little sloppy there. Taking risks—like tampering with your car in front of Shannon’s house where anyone could happen past and see. Same with messing up the loaner car and throwing that rock.”

George nodded, finally catching on. “Or making that call to the pizza place,” she added. “What if the person on the other end knew Nancy’s real voice and realized something was up?”

I sat up straight. “I almost forgot about that. I’ve been meaning to stop by Sylvio’s and talk to whoever took that call. I just haven’t quite made it happen yet.” I made a face, realizing just how long I’d let it slide. “Living half online is really getting to me! My computer skills may be improving —”

“They are?” George put in dubiously.

“But my detective skills are slipping,” I finished, ignoring her comment. Standing up, I headed for the door. “Come on, let’s go. If we hurry, we can make it to Sylvio’s before the dinner rush.”

“Sorry.” The portly middle-aged man behind the counter at Sylvio’s scratched his half-bald head and shrugged. “We’re always busy here, especially Saturdays. I mean, yeah, sure, I remember the call. All of us do — it was a weird order, you know? What with the big rush and the extra anchovies and everything…” He narrowed his eyes slightly and stared at me, as if still not fully convinced I hadn’t been behind the mix-up somehow. A few of the other employees had been shooting me similar looks ever since my friends and I had entered and explained why we were there.

I sighed. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything more? Like, was it definitely a female voice who called?”

The man looked slightly insulted. “Well, sure, I can confirm that for you, miss,” he said. “What, you think I’m not gonna remember a dude named Nancy?”

“But you’re not sure whether the voice sounded like mine?” I pressed him.

He shrugged again. “Coulda sounded like you, I suppose,” he said. “Then again, it was loud in here. Who knows?”

“Joey!” someone barked from back in the kitchen. “Call Anthony. He forgot the garlic bread for that birthday party delivery!”

“Got it,” the man called back. He hurried off toward the phone at the other end of the counter without sparing me another glance.

“Oh, well,” Bess said as the three of us wandered toward the exit. “At least that narrows things down a little. It means our culprit is female, right?”

“Maybe.” I bit my lip. “Or it could just mean he knows a woman he talked into making that call. Or it could mean there’s more than one person involved.”

“So basically, we’ve still got nothing?” George asked.

I shrugged. “We’ve still got Aunt Agnes. The university dining hall is right down the street — let’s see if she’s working today.”

She wasn’t. The harried kid we asked didn’t know when she’d be in next, either. Maybe dinner shift, maybe not…

“Now what?” George asked when we found ourselves back in my car again.

“We could try going to her house,” Bess said. “Do you know where she lives, Nancy?”

I shook my head. “We could stop somewhere and check the phone book.”

“We can do better than that,” George said. “Let’s stop at the coffee shop and look it up online.”

Soon we were clustered in front of a monitor at Barbara’s Beans. But no matter what she tried, George couldn’t seem to turn up an address or phone number under the name Agnes Fitzgerald anywhere in the county.

“Weird,” Bess said. “Do you think she lives really far away?”

“And commutes to a job as a dining hall worker?” George shook her head. “Doubtful. She’s probably just unlisted — maybe she’s a renter or something.” She reached for the mouse. “Anyway, as long as we’re here we might as well check in on BetterLife, right?”

I sighed. “I suppose so.”

“Here we go,” George said a second later as she clicked through to the site. “Another message from your secret not-so admirer!”

Sure enough, there was a new e-mail from UrNewReality in my in-box. This one read:

WHAT R U DOING 2 NIGHT, NANCY? UNR WILL B

THERE 2!

“Yikes!” Bess exclaimed when she read it. “Extra creepy! Is he saying he’s going to be spying on your date tonight?”

“Sounds like it, doesn’t it? Good thing Ned will be right there with you, Nancy,” George said. “Still, you’d better be careful — stay in well-lit public places, that kind of thing.”

With a jolt, I realized I’d almost forgotten tonight’s date. I checked my watch and saw that it was already past five o’clock. Once again, I realized I was sitting in front of a computer when I should be out investigating.

“You know, we’re forgetting the obvious — we could just call Shannon’s mom for Agnes’s address or phone number,” I said. “But it might have to be tomorrow. Unless you think Ned won’t mind me showing up for our date looking like this?”

“No way!” Bess looked horrified as she took in the sight of me in my jeans, sneakers, and loose ponytail. “The case has waited this long; it can wait another day. Let’s get you home and looking decent.”

Normally I might have argued with her. Ned wasn’t the type of guy who cared about clothes or makeup or anything like that. But this date was different. I really wanted to make up for all the canceled plans and misunderstandings lately, and remind him that I still thought he was special. It would be nice to put everything else out of my mind for a few hours and just enjoy being with him and reconnecting.

Besides, what are the odds Agnes will have seen anything, or will remember it a week later even if she did? I thought with a flash of pessimism. I could hardly believe how sloppy I’d been about following up my real-life leads. Somehow, I’d been so caught up in the online part that everything I knew about sleuthing had flown out the window.

We logged off and hurried back to my house. “Okay, first of all, what are you going to wear?” Bess asked when we reached my room.

“Hadn’t really thought about it,” I admitted.

At Bess’s groan, George laughed. “I’m going to check in on BetterLife again while you guys are primping,” she said, heading for my computer.

Bess was already rushing over to dig into my closet. “Here, this should do,” she said, emerging seconds later with a dress I hadn’t even remembered I owned. “Jump in the shower and then put it on, and after that we can talk about your hair.”

She bustled around, her arms a blur as she grabbed hairbrush, makeup, accessories…. A short while later I was showered and changed. As Bess spritzed me with some cologne, George glanced up from the computer.

“Ah, looks like you’ve earned the perfume upgrade, Nance,” she joked. “If you keep it up, you’ll be almost as tricked out as your virtual half.”

“Ha-ha,” I said, sticking out my tongue at her. “So what are you guys doing tonight while I’m out with Ned?”

“I’m half tempted to tag along and spy on you,” Bess admitted as she expertly twirled my hair around a brush. “What if UrNewReality tries something?”

“They’ll be fine.” George leaned back from the desk, both hands behind her head. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind catching a movie or something.”

“We can see a movie anytime,” Bess said. “If we’re not playing bodyguard, we really ought to go hear Professor al-Fulani’s speech.”

“I almost forgot that was tonight!” I said. “Maybe I should see if Ned wants to go see it before we eat. It should be a great speech.”

Bess frowned. “Doesn’t sound too romantic. Now, do you have any shoes that go with that dress?”

I shrugged. “Depends on your definition of ‘go with’ I suppose.”

“Uh-oh,” George put in. “Better hope your shoe upgrade comes through before you have to leave, Nancy.”

“Not much chance of that.” I checked my watch. “Ned will be here in, like, five minutes.”

My cell phone rang. I’d tossed it on my bed as we came in, so I strode over and grabbed it. “Probably Ned saying he’s running late or something,” George said.

“Let’s hope,” Bess muttered from inside my closet, where she was digging through my modest shoe collection. “I could use a few extra minutes here.”

“Hi,” I said into the phone. “You on your way?”

“Er, Nancy?” a woman’s voice said.

Not Ned. Oops.

“Oh, sorry — Mrs. Mahoney?” I said, recognizing the thin, reedy voice. The wealthy widow and philanthropist was cochair of the committee running Peace Week. “Is that you?”

“Where are you, Nancy?” Mrs. Mahoney was normally pretty unflappable. But at the moment she sounded downright flapped. “The children are all here, and I have to leave to go get ready to introduce the professor soon!”

“Huh?” I had no idea what she was talking about. Switching the phone to my other ear, I said, “Are you okay, Mrs. Mahoney? I’m just about to go out to dinner, but if you’re shorthanded or something maybe Bess or George could —”

Mrs. Mahoney interrupted before I could finish, sounding more frantic than ever, plus slightly irritated. “What are you talking about, Nancy?” she cried. “You promised me you’d babysit during the speech tonight!”

Дата добавления: 2017-01-14