Hot Tracks by Carolyn Keene

books,” Nancy told him, poking her head in.
    He stared at Nancy for a moment, as if gauging something. Then he stood up and said, “That’s okay. Uh, come on in a second. I want to tell Bess her VIN.” He gestured for the two girls to enter his office, then said to Stan, “Why don’t you return those mug books.”
    â€œWhat’s a VIN?” Bess asked Detective Quinones when he turned back to the girls.
    â€œYour Vehicle Identification Number,” Quinones answered, distracted. “All cars have it etched on the dashboard, the door, and the engine block. It’s on your registration and in the computer. That’s how we can identify a stolen car—or what’s left of it.”
    As he spoke, Quinones again stepped into the other cubicle. Sticking his head into the hall, he glanced back and forth. What was going on? Nancy wondered. He was acting like a caged animal.
    When he came back he brought two chairs from the outer cubicle and gestured for Nancy and Bess to sit down. Nancy hoped this wasn’t going to be bad news about Bess’s car.
    Detective Quinones sat down at his desk. Without meeting the girls’ eyes, he cleared his throat and began to speak.
    â€œAs you know, our investigation into the recent auto thefts hasn’t been going well—at least not as well as I’d like.” Reaching over, he swiped at a cobweb clinging to his rubberplant. “Well, this morning I had a long meeting with Chief McGinnis, and we discussed several things.”
    Finally Quinones looked up at Nancy. “He said you were a friend of his, Nancy. He also said you were a crackerjack detective, and that I should enlist your help in tracking down the car thieves.”
    Nancy could tell that Quinones wasn’t happy with the chief’s suggestion. “I’m not sure I understand,” she said. “Last night I was only trying to help Bess get her car back. We didn’t mean to get involved in your investigation.”
    â€œI know,” Quinones said with a nod. “But now there are—complications.”
    â€œLike what?” Bess asked, puzzled.
    â€œFirst thing this morning I checked with the lab,” said Quinones. “They told me that no fingerprints were found on the slim jim.”
    Nancy sat up straight. “But that’s impossible!” she exclaimed. “You saw those greasy marks on it yourself. There had to be prints.”
    Detective Quinones was very sober. “The labs boys tell me that somebody wiped the slim jim clean.”
    â€œBut who would do that?” Bess asked, her blue eyes opening wide. “And why?”
    Nancy’s mind was racing. “The same person who could tip off the thieves about when the cops would be patrolling the riverfront area,” she said.
    â€œNobody knows about the patrols except the cops, right?” said Bess, confused.
    Nancy nodded. If what she was thinking was correct, this was very serious.
    â€œSomeone’s sabotaging your investigation in order to help the thieves, right?” Nancy guessed.
    Detective Quinones’s face told Nancy that she was correct.
    â€œSince the saboteur was able to wipe the slim jim clean,” she went on, “that means there’s a bad cop in the police department.”

Chapter

Seven
    D ETECTIVE Q UINONES nervously ran his fingers through his dark hair.
    â€œNone of us likes to believe there’s a bad cop on the force,” he said, looking at Nancy and Bess, “but several other things have happened to make me suspicious. The slim jim only confirmed it.”
    Quinones cleared his throat and added, “I hope you’ll be able to help me out, Nancy. Of course, if you run into Stan or B.D. your explanation will be that you’re only helping Bess get her car back.”
    Bess’s blue eyes opened wide. “You don’t suspect that it’s one of them?”
    â€œB.D. handled the evidence bag