Danger on Parade by Carolyn Keene

have a theory about who might be responsible for sabotaging the parade, too.” After taking a deep breath, she told Jill of Jules’s theory that his own father was trying to ruin the parade. “I know it sounds crazy, butmaybe he’s trying to make sure the store doesn’t ever have to lay out money for the parade again,” she finished.
    Jill’s mouth had dropped open during Nancy’s explanation. Now she sat quietly, a thoughtful look on her face. “Mr. Langley does hate the parade,” she finally said. Then she shook herself. “I’m sorry, Nancy, but we can’t rule out Bess,” she said firmly. “All the evidence points to her.”
    Nancy let out a breath of frustration. “I just wish there was a way to prove that someone has been setting her up. Someone had to have come to the parade studio right before up last night, she said. “If there was only a way to keep track of everyone who comes and goes . . .”
    Suddenly Jill blinked and straightened up. “Wait a minute—maybe there is a way!” she said excitedly. “All the locks are hooked into a main computer bank back at the store. The ID numbers are screened whenever someone uses a card to enter one of the restricted areas. It’s a long shot, but maybe we can get some kind of computer record of who’s been here during the last few days.”
    Nancy’s heart pounded with excitement as Jill reached for her phone and punched in a number. “Then we could see who was in the warehouse at the time of the different incidents,” Nancy said, thinking out loud. “There hasn’t been any sign of forced entry, except for the break-in at the cosmeticslab. And we know that was Louis Clark. Chances are, the other attacks were made by a Mitchell’s employee.”
    Jill nodded. “The list wouldn’t include people like you and Bess, who enter the building with someone else, but it might provide some clue— Oh, hello, Richard. Jill here,” she said into the receiver. She spoke briefly to the head of security at Mitchell’s, then hung up and turned back to Nancy.
    â€œThey can’t isolate one area, but they can send over a printout of everyone who’s entered all restricted areas of the store, as well as the outside doors of the warehouses during the past week,” Jill explained. “We’ll have to go through and highlight the warehouse entries.”
    â€œGreat!” Nancy said excitedly.
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    An hour and a half later, Jill’s desk at the warehouse was covered with printouts that the head of Mitchell’s security had sent over. Jill, Nancy, and Bess were all bent over the desk, each examining a different section of the printout.
    â€œWhat’s the code for the parade studio warehouse again—zero-one—five?” Bess asked, scanning the columns of numbers and names on her printout.
    â€œThat’s right,” Jill confirmed, without looking up from her own list.
    At first Jill had resisted Nancy’s suggestion that Bess help them, but when she saw the thickpile of printouts that arrived from the store, Jill had relented. Nancy was relieved that Jill was finally warming up toward Bess—even if it was only a little.
    Since Nancy and Bess weren’t familiar with the names of employees, they asked Jill every time they came to an entry for the warehouse. So far, all of the people listed were regulars who worked at the warehouse.
    â€œWho’s Heath Nealon?” Bess asked.
    Nancy shrugged. “Hey, here he is on my sheet, too. According to this, Heath Nealon was here last night, just before eleven o’clock.”
    â€œHey, that’s right before we came,” Bess added. “I bet he’s the guy who slashed the balloons and knocked out the guard!” She pointed down at her printout. “He was here on Monday morning, too—the day of the