Designs in Crime Read online

  “This is it,” Beau said, turning toward a tall brick building with double glass doors for an entrance. He pulled a metal key ring from his pocket and selected a gold key. “My studio takes up the entire fourth floor. The rest of the building is occupied by suppliers.”

  Watching Beau unlock the door, Nancy wondered about the security system in the building, but there was no time to ask about it right then. Joanna Rockwell was to arrive in five minutes.

  When the doors of the small elevator opened on the fourth floor hall, Nancy found herself blinking in intense white light.

  “What’s going on?” Bess asked.

  “Cut the lights—it’s not her!” someone called.

  The bright light faded, and Nancy walked from the elevator car into a cluster of people with cameras and microphones.

  “Sorry about that,” said a slender woman with shoulder-length silver hair. Wearing a red silk suit and a fair amount of makeup, the woman was elegant. Nancy thought she recognized her as a TV news reporter. “We’re waiting for Joanna Rockwell,” the woman explained.

  “Delia,” Beau grumbled, “I can’t have you bugging my clients.”

  “Give me a break, Beau,” she snapped. “You’re her designer, not her publicist.”

  Beau folded his arms and gave the woman’s crew a stern look. “Out of the building—now.”

  The woman started to scowl but forced a smile instead. “Oh, come on, Beau. It’s just a fluff piece for ‘Fashion Flash.’ ”

  Bess leaned close to Nancy to whisper, “That’s the national news segment that highlights fashion events. Delia Rogers is the fashion reporter.”

  “Think of all the potential clients who might come calling after they see your face on TV,” Delia said to Beau.

  From the dark expression in his eyes, Nancy could see that Beau would not back down. “Right now I’m more concerned about protecting the privacy of—”

  Just then the elevator bell dinged, and everything happened at once.

  “There she is!” a man on the camera crew shouted.

  Nancy watched as the elevator doors slid open to reveal a petite young woman standing alone in the car. Bright lights flooded the area again as the crew surged forward. Startled, the young woman held her hands over her face.

  “Ms. Rockwell, are you happy with the progress Beau has made on your gown?” Delia asked, shoving her microphone toward the young heiress.

  So this is Joanna Rockwell, Nancy thought, taking in the pretty brunette who lowered her hands and blinked several times as her eyes adjusted to the bright light. Then, almost without missing a beat, she smiled and said, “Beau Winston’s gown makes me feel like a princess.”

  Before Joanna could take another step forward, Delia fired off more questions. “Any prewedding jitters? Has your fiancé seen the gown? Where are you going for your honeymoon?”

  “So many questions! I don’t know where to begin,” Joanna said lightly. “But if I don’t get moving, I’ll be late for my last fitting, and Mr. Winston will never forgive me.” She glanced over at Beau and winked. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Winston?”

  “Absolutely,” Beau said, taking Joanna by the arm and escorting her past the camera crew to the door of his studio. Nancy and Bess pushed past them, too, and managed to squeeze in behind Beau and Joanna just before the door was firmly shut by a small woman with black hair shot through with gray strands.

  “Good riddance!” she said, locking the door. “I told them to go away, Mr. Beau, but do they listen?” She waved at the door disgustedly, then moved toward Joanna. “I’ll take your coat, miss. We’re ready for you in the fitting room.”

  “And hello to you, Mrs. Chong,” Joanna teased, slipping out of her leather jacket and handing it to the small woman, who scurried out of the reception area.

  “That was Mrs. Chong, my sample maker and right hand,” Beau explained to Nancy and Bess. “And this is Joanna Rockwell, who, as you can see, travels with an entourage of reporters.”

  “I’m Nancy Drew, and this is Bess Marvin,” Nancy said, shaking Joanna’s hand.

  “I’ve been reading all about you,” Bess told Joanna.

  “Gee,” Joanna said, wincing, “I hope you’ve read nothing but the good stuff. Some writers really roast me.”

  “Nancy’s a detective who’s—” Beau hesitated to glance at Nancy. “She’s here to evaluate my security system,” Beau said. “And Bess is modeling for me now.”

  “You handled that woman and her camera crew with finesse,” Nancy told Joanna. “I’m sure it’s not easy.”

  “I’m used to the prying eye of the camera,” Joanna said, shrugging. “Though I’m determined not to let the media see my wedding gown until I walk down the aisle on Saturday. I think there are some traditions a girl should uphold.”

  Nancy liked Joanna’s attitude.

  “Your gown is in the vault,” Beau told Joanna. “Right this way.”

  He led her through a large, sunny workroom just off the reception area, where a handful of people were measuring and cutting fabric on huge tables. Nancy noticed Mrs. Chong tucking and pinning a pink gown on a dress form, while beside her a young man sketched on a tablet.

  Walking briskly, Beau took them through a doorway to the left and down a narrow hall.

  “Do you really keep the gown locked in a safe?” Bess asked.

  “The vault is a secure room where we store the new samples,” Beau explained as he paused in front of a steel door at the end of the hall. He unlocked the door with a magnetic card key and flicked on the light.

  Curious about the setup of the vault, Nancy entered right behind him. Three walls of the room were lined with racks holding gowns, which were covered with clear plastic. In the center of the room sat an ornate gold rack.

  “Wait a minute,” Beau said, pausing in front of the empty gold rack. “It should be right here. Where is it?” He crossed to one wall of the room, frantically pushing gowns aside on the rack.

  “Maybe Mrs. Chong took it to the fitting room already,” Nancy suggested.

  “She’d never leave it there unattended.” Beau ran to the doorway and shouted, “Mrs. Chong!”

  “You mean, the gown is missing?” Bess asked.

  Noticing the stricken look on her friend’s face, Nancy said, “Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.” Nancy could hear Beau out in the hall, barking questions and orders at his staff. Their voices rose as the word spread.

  Mrs. Chong appeared in the doorway, her jaw dropping open when she spotted the empty rack. She lapsed into Chinese for a moment, then threw up her hands.

  “Where is it?” Beau asked her.

  “I don’t know! I don’t know where it could be,” Mrs. Chong cried. “Someone must have stolen Joanna’s gown!”

  Chapter

  Three

  STOLEN?” Joanna gasped as the color drained from her face. “That—that’s impossible.” Turning to Beau, she added, “Isn’t it?”

  “Well—yes,” Beau said, bewildered.

  Joanna buried her face in her hands for a moment, then quickly raised her head as if struck by a new thought. “What about the bridesmaids’ gowns?” she asked.

  Beau hurried over to a row of emerald green dresses and counted. “They’re all here.”

  Nancy realized Joanna was near tears. She touched her arm and suggested, “Why don’t you sit down while Beau’s staff searches for your dress?”

  “But I’m willing to help,” Joanna began, her voice cracking with emotion.

  “Let us take care of it,” Beau said. “You wait in the fitting room with Bess. Mrs. Chong will show you the way.”

  As Mrs. Chong led Bess and Joanna out of the vault, Nancy’s mind was racing. If the gown had been stolen, it seemed logical that the thief was the same person who had stolen Beau’s designs.

  “This is my worst nightmare,” Beau said, checking through all the dresses in the vault a second time. “Nothing has ever been stolen from the vault.”
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  “There’s still a chance that the dress was misplaced, isn’t there?” Nancy asked him.

  Beau bit his bottom lip. “A slim chance. The staff is turning the place upside down right now. My design assistant, Angel, will report to me when they’re done.”

  Nancy had already paced most of the perimeter of the windowless room, checking for even the slightest cracks in the walls and ceiling. “How could a thief break into this room without leaving a trace?” she asked, thinking out loud. But the bare walls held no answers. She turned to Beau, who was shifting two gowns on the racks. “Make sure there are no cracks or holes in the wall behind those dresses. I didn’t look there.”

  “Will do,” Beau said, shoving a sheer black gown to one side so he could check.

  Kneeling beside the only door to the vault, Nancy examined the lock. “There are no scratch marks,” she told Beau, “no sign that anyone tried to pick the lock—though that would have been a challenge. The magnetic card system used to open this type of lock is hard to derail.”

  “That’s why I had it installed,” Beau said, pushing aside an ivory satin bridal gown. “The magnetic strips on the cards are generated by computer, and they have a lot of information encoded on them.”

  “Besides you, who has a card key to the vault?” Nancy asked.

  “Only Mrs. Chong and Angel.”

  Next, Nancy checked the edges of the gray wall-to-wall carpeting inside the vault. She prodded and tugged, but the carpet was solidly tacked in place. It didn’t seem as if anyone could have come through the floor.

  “Bad news, boss.”

  Nancy looked up at the thin man standing in the doorway of the vault. He had thick black hair that fell forward over his forehead and widely spaced brown eyes.

  Beau sighed and turned away from the rack of dresses. “You didn’t find it?”

  “Sorry,” the young man said, shrugging.

  Quickly Beau introduced Nancy to his assistant, Angel Ortiz. He pointed down the hall. “Tell the staff we’re meeting in the workroom—now. I want to get to the bottom of this.”

  The mood was somber as Nancy and Beau entered the large, sunny workroom. Angel boosted himself up to sit cross-legged on top of a table. Mrs. Chong was standing beside a window, no expression on her face. A handful of workers sat on tables and scattered chairs.

  “As you all know,” Beau began, “the Rockwell gown is missing. I put it in the vault last night when I finished working on it. Has anyone seen it since?”

  The unanimous answer was no. “Most of us don’t go near the vault,” said a tall, exotic-looking model, whom Beau called Isis.

  “Has anyone heard or seen anything out of the ordinary today—or last night?” Nancy asked.

  Again, people shook their heads.

  One girl, wearing a black sweater and tights, flung a golden braid of hair off her shoulder and sighed.

  “What’s the problem, Eleni?” Beau asked.

  “It’s not fair to suspect us,” Eleni told him. “Most of us were out of here by six yesterday.”

  “Really?” Nancy said.

  “Yeah,” Eleni went on. “When I left only Beau, Angel, and Mrs. Chong were still here.”

  Nancy and Beau asked the group a few more questions, but the answers didn’t tell Nancy anything.

  After Beau sent the staff back to work, he and Nancy returned for one last look in the vault. Mrs. Chong and Angel joined them.

  “Now I remember,” Mrs. Chong said as she unlocked the door with the card key hung around her neck. “I heard a funny noise last night, while I was in my sewing room.”

  “What kind of noise?” Beau asked.

  “Like something falling to the floor in the workroom,” Mrs. Chong said. “I went in to check it but didn’t see anything. Maybe a bolt of cloth dropped, maybe not.”

  Nancy stared at the older woman. “What time was it?”

  “Late—sometime at night,” Mrs. Chong said brusquely.

  Nancy frowned. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of Mrs. Chong.

  “Where was I when it happened?” Angel asked.

  “Gone,” Mrs. Chong said, acting almost irritated.

  Angel turned to Nancy. “I was here till midnight, so it was after that.”

  “So you were the last person here last night?” Nancy asked Mrs. Chong.

  The woman nodded, her neat bun gleaming under the fluorescent strip lights. “I locked everything up,” she said, gesturing with the pair of shears she had inadvertently carried with her to the vault. The handles of the scissors were made of gold-colored metal and elaborately decorated.

  “Did you see Joanna’s gown in here before you left?” Nancy prodded.

  “I didn’t notice,” Mrs. Chong replied.

  Was she hiding something? Nancy couldn’t tell. Mrs. Chong could have taken the gown herself, then made up the story about hearing the noise. If the noise had been caused by an intruder, there was no sign of a break-in. One thing was clear to Nancy. Since Mrs. Chong and Angel were the only two people—besides Beau—with keys to the vault, she’d have to watch them closely.

  “Can you think of anyone who’d want to steal Joanna’s wedding gown?” Nancy asked.

  Beau rolled his eyes, while Angel and Mrs. Chong exchanged a look.

  “That’s easy,” Mrs. Chong said. “Mimi Piazza would love to see Mr. Beau fall flat on his face.”

  “She’s been a rival of mine since we went to design school together,” Beau admitted. “Mimi specializes in bridal and evening wear, too.”

  “And her design was second choice for Joanna Rockwell’s gown,” Angel added.

  “When Joanna chose Mr. Beau’s design, Mimi blew up,” Mrs. Chong explained. “Steaming like a kettle! Now she really hates us.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out about Mimi Piazza,” Nancy said to Beau. “But right now we’d better tell Joanna what’s going on.”

  “Exactly what I’ve been dreading,” Beau said, wearily rubbing his eyes. “That girl’s going to be heartbroken, and it’s all my fault.” He headed for the fitting room with Nancy following.

  Joanna’s face lit up when they first walked in, but a moment later her smile faded. “No luck?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Beau said. He sat beside her on the couch and squeezed her arm. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how this happened, but I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Maybe it’ll turn up,” Bess said hopefully.

  “That gown was very special to me,” Joanna said as tears filled her eyes. “Did Beau tell you that he designed the dress around the bodice of my mother’s bridal gown. Her own pearls were sewn in at the neckline. And seed pearls from her gown covered the—the—” Overcome with emotion, Joanna covered her face with her hands.

  Upset, Bess asked Nancy, “Did you find any clues? Any signs of a break-in?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to investigate thoroughly yet,” Nancy said. “But I will, and there’s a good chance that the missing gown is related to the problem Beau has been having here.”

  Beau turned to Joanna. “You might as well know why Nancy came here in the first place.” He explained about his stolen designs.

  “I’d appreciate your help, Nancy,” Joanna said. “Bess tells me you’re an expert detective. I know it’s just a dress. But part of it belonged to my mother. She didn’t live long enough to see me walk down the aisle. Wearing her pearls was a way of having her close to me.” Joanna wiped a tear from her cheek. “You must think I sound silly and sentimental.”

  “I think it’s a beautiful idea,” Bess said.

  Nancy nodded. “I’ll need to know what I’m looking for. Can you describe the gown?”

  “What about the photo?” Beau suggested.

  “Good idea.” Joanna reached into her purse and fished out a photograph. “Here’s a picture of me in the gown,” she said, handing Nancy the snapshot. “Beau took it at my last fitting. You can keep it for now—but not a peep to the media.”

 
“I’ll guard it carefully,” Nancy said, studying the photo. The pearls on the antique white bodice gleamed. In the shot, Joanna was smiling as she lifted the satin train of the full skirt. “Can you think of anyone who has a grudge against you?” Nancy asked Joanna. “An old friend or classmate?”

  Joanna paused to consider the question. “Not that I know of. I try to be honest with people. Usually it keeps me out of trouble.”

  “Maybe your fiancé will have some ideas,” Nancy suggested.

  “Sam?” Joanna asked. “Why don’t you and Bess join us for dinner, and you can ask him. We’re dining at my father’s apartment, so you’ll also have a chance to meet Dad and my brother, Tyler. What do you say?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Bess said.

  “We’d love to join you,” Nancy agreed.

  “Before you go,” Beau said, “why don’t you choose another gown from my collection. I’ll have it altered in case Nancy can’t locate your gown by Saturday.”

  “I guess it’ll be good to have a standby,” Joanna said, “but I hope I don’t have to wear it.”

  Beau showed the girls one elegant gown after another, and Bess fell in love with them all. Joanna wasn’t quite as enthusiastic. At last she chose a traditional gown with puffed sleeves and a fitted bodice.

  “Excellent choice,” Beau said.

  Joanna forced a smile, though Nancy sensed that her heart wasn’t in it. “Ready to go?” Joanna asked, slipping her jacket on. “My driver is waiting downstairs.”

  “We’ll see you tomorrow,” Nancy told Beau as they walked to the studio door.

  “I’ll be here,” Beau said, holding the door open. “I’m really sorry about the gown, Joanna. But we’ve got a great detective on the case.” The girls said goodbye, then crossed to the elevators.

  “My head is still spinning,” Joanna said, touching her forehead. “I can’t believe my gown has been stolen.”

  “Nan, you’ve got to find the dress before the wedding,” Bess said. “Isn’t there some way to—”

  “Stolen?” came a voice from out of nowhere.

  Nancy spun around as a figure emerged from a shadowy nook beside the elevator bank.