The Case of the Lost Song Read online

  him to say something to Jason. “Oh, you have the

  recorder,” he said, then managed to tilt the lid so the

  revolving tape was hidden from Jason's view. Ethan

  avoided glancing at Nancy. He was aware the tape was

  recording what could be devastating evidence against

  himself and his brother. And he let it keep playing.

  Nancy couldn't believe it. Maybe Ethan was in-

  nocent.

  “Yeah, I got that tape. It's pretty cool,” Jason said.

  “We can share in this big-time, bro! With your con-

  nections this tape is going to set us up for life.”

  “We? Us? Hey, keep me out of this. Look, I know

  you stole the tape. How you knew about it before you

  rented this apartment is beyond me.”

  “I didn't.” Jason shrugged. “I overheard Lisa talking

  about her aunt's collection. I have clients interested in

  tribal art, and by the way, I found them on your

  girlfriend's Web site.”

  “Thriftytreasures?” Ethan exclaimed.

  “Don't look so shocked. Once 1 find a buyer on the

  black market, my associates obtain the goods.”

  “Thieves, not associates!” Nancy corrected angrily.

  “So you are behind the burglaries,” she accused,

  knowing that the tape was still recording.

  “I play my part. I get my cut,” Jason bragged. “A big

  one—believe me.”

  “But what about the tape? How does the tape fit

  in?” Nancy prodded, wanting to get the whole story

  recorded.

  Jason leaned against the sofa and actually looked

  proud. “Before I made my move on Lisa's apartment,

  you girls and that tape turned up. You left it right in

  the middle of the living room—or practically in the

  middle of the living room—and Lisa never locks that

  terrace door. Hey”—he lifted his shoulders and flashed

  a charming smile—“it was mine for the taking. I put

  the tribal stuff on hold. It'll keep.”

  “So that's where your money comes from.” Ethan

  sounded disgusted.

  “Yeah, and if you stop with the good-guy act, you'll

  get your share, too—that is, if you don't have some

  kind of in already.” Jason snickered. “You know, from

  Inez and her cute little side business.”

  “Inez is no thief, and she hasn't stolen a thing.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But she is the perfect fall guy.

  The cops will be looking at Thriftytreasures pretty

  closely, and once we get rid of this snoop—”

  “We?” Ethan paled, then grit his teeth. “You're a

  jerk, Jason. I'm not a thief, and I'm not getting rid of

  anyone.” He paused, then tackled his brother,

  shouting, “Except you!”

  Taken totally off guard, Jason fell, hard. Ethan threw

  his body on top of Jason, trying to pin him to the

  ground. Nancy sprang away from the window to help

  Ethan. She looked for something to use as a weapon.

  She reached for a lamp on the table by the sofa, but

  Jason's fingers reached it first. He yanked it out of

  Nancy's grasp and managed to bring it down on

  Ethan's head.

  Ethan groaned and rolled off Jason. Disoriented, he

  tried to struggle to his feet, but Jason was quicker. Like

  a cat he jumped up and kicked his brother hard.

  Frantic, Nancy grabbed the tripod, brandishing it at

  Jason as he plunged toward her. “You'll be sorry for

  this!” he roared, expertly maneuvering out of her grasp.

  Reaching for her right arm, he wrenched it behind her

  back, twisting her wrist until she dropped the tripod.

  He started pulling her toward the terrace.

  “Little snoop was out on the balcony on a windy day,

  and she tripped and fell!” he said, struggling to drag

  her toward the railing.

  Nancy managed to free one arm as Jason pressed

  her back against the railing. She felt him try to pick her

  up. Nancy planted her feet and with her last bit of

  strength aimed a karate kick at Jason's head. She made

  contact, hard.

  He yowled and fell backward, slamming his head

  against the concrete floor of the terrace. He lay,

  writhing in pain, as Nancy steadied herself against the

  railing, trying not to look twenty stories down.

  At the same instant the door to Lisa's terrace flew

  open, and two police officers swarmed over the divider,

  racing to Nancy's rescue.

  George was right behind the cops, and so was Bess.

  Nancy was trying to catch her breath, but as she caught

  George's eye, she managed a wry grin. “Hey,” she said,

  gesturing toward the apartment. “I found the tape. It's

  inside, but it might have a problem.”

  “Wonder what your aunt Betty and uncle Nick

  would think of this party?” Nancy murmured to Lisa

  that evening, in the living room of Lisa's condo. Open

  boxes of pizza and jugs of soda were arranged on the

  coffee table.

  “Aunt Betty would say this is an eclectic crowd.”

  Lisa hazarded a nervous smile. “And it's not exactly my

  idea of a party,” she said, making a face.

  “Mine either. And your aunt would definitely not be

  happy about the occasion,” Bess commented.

  All four girls were seated on the floor in front of the

  coffee table. On a long side table by the bookcase was a

  tape recorder. Bobby Morgan and Ethan Woodard

  were hovering over it.

  “I just hope she doesn't make me move out,” Lisa

  said ruefully.

  “She won't,” George predicted, grabbing a piece of

  pizza and popping rounds of pepperoni into her mouth.

  “Now more than ever she's going to want an apartment

  sitter.”

  “But one who locks terraces!” Mr. Landowski

  teased, patting Lisa on the shoulder. He pulled up a

  chair and poured himself some seltzer. “None of this is

  your fault, Lisa. Right, Carson?”

  Nancy looked up at her dad. As soon as Nancy

  phoned him, he had driven from River Heights to

  advise George in case there were legal questions about

  ownership of the tape.

  “Eddie's absolutely right,” Carson reassured Lisa.

  “This was a very sophisticated professional operation. I

  wouldn't be surprised if the investigation leads to a

  pretty high-powered art theft ring. Jason's actually

  small-time here.”

  “He still caused some pretty big trouble,” Nancy

  said, her back still smarting from her struggle with

  Jason earlier. The cops had arrested him, designated

  the vacant apartment as a crime scene, and brought

  everyone—including Nancy, George, Lisa and Bess—

  in for questioning.

  Inez was cleared of any wrongdoing, but Mr.

  Landowski was furious with her and had fired her on

  the spot. He was threatening to sue her over her

  Thriftytreasures site. At the very least, Nancy had to

  agree that the venture had been unethical. But Ethan

  was going to bat for her, trying to ward off any legal

  action.

  As for the tape, it took Carson, an enter
tainment

  lawyer representing Lou Knight's estate, and Eddie

  Landowski to convince the cops to give it up—at least

  for the evening. They needed to hold the tape until

  Jason's trial because Nancy had recorded Jason's

  conversation.

  Ethan had objected strongly—the tape was possibly

  a very valuable property, and a copy should be made

  immediately of Lou Knight's song . . . unless Nancy

  had recorded Jason's voice over it.

  While they had waited for the detectives from the

  local precinct to bring the tape back, the lawyer said

  that the legal issues of ownership were complicated,

  but in any event George would receive some hefty

  compensation whether it was sold at auction, bought by

  a recording company, or claimed by Lou Knights heirs.

  Bobby turned from the sideboard and called the

  room to attention. “Well, here goes nothing,” he said,

  winking at Nancy.

  As Bobby pressed Play, Nancy crossed her fingers.

  He'd transferred the tape to a modern reel-to-reel

  machine. That in turn was hooked up for dubbing on

  another reel-to-reel studio-quality machine.

  Static erupted from the speakers. The sound fidelity

  was ten times truer than on the old battered machine.

  There was the sound of voices, some laughter, and then

  a deep male voice counting “And one . . . and two . . .

  and . . .” The room filled with the gritty unproduced

  version of Lou Knight's trademark tune, Knight's voice

  blending with Carey Black's. The song ended, and one

  of the detectives motioned for Bobby to turn off the

  tape before Jason's voice could come on. Nancy's body

  sagged with relief. She hadn't erased the important

  part of the tape.

  When Bobby looked up, his eyes glittered with tears.

  “Now, that is something I never thought I'd hear . . .

  not in this lifetime.” He turned to George and grinned.

  “You've got yourself the gen-u-ine article: Lou Knight's

  lost last song!”