Trash or Treasure? Read online

“What is it, then?” George asked her.

  Brenda hesitated. “Not that I have to explain it to the three of you,” she said finally. “But it’s an antique frame. The lady who lives next door, Mrs. Mannheim, bought it at the garage sale. She’s kind of old and frail and she couldn’t carry it home, so she asked me to do it.”

  “But that was yesterday, right?” Nancy pointed out. “Why do you still have it?”

  Brenda rolled her eyes. “When I was walking home with it yesterday, I accidentally dropped it on the sidewalk. A piece of it chipped off. So my mom and I fixed it with a special kind of glue that had to dry overnight. Now I’m taking it over to Mrs. Mannheim’s house.” She made a face at Nancy. “Are you satisfied now? Can I go?”

  Bess sighed. “Oh, well. I guess that means the painting’s still missing.”

  “Why do you care so much about that stupid old painting?” Brenda asked her.

  “Stupid!” Bess said, her blue eyes widening. “I thought you liked that painting!”

  “I did. But I changed my mind. It really wasn’t that great.” Brenda tossed her hair over shoulders. “Why is everyone making such a big deal about it, anyway?”

  • • •

  “I just felt a drop,” Mrs. Ramirez said, lifting her face to the sky.

  It was nine o’clock, time for the garage sale to start. But there were only a couple of customers waiting in the driveway. Nancy figured that the weather must be keeping people away. The sky was full of dark clouds now, and it was starting to rain a little.

  There were still a lot of items around—items that hadn’t sold the day before. Nancy, Bess, George, and Rebecca had just finished helping Mrs. Ramirez arrange these things on card tables. Nancy noticed that George’s toy kitchen, Bess’s CD’s and doll, and Rebecca’s old Halloween costumes were among them. Her own blue parka and George’s baseball glove were not. They had been snapped up early yesterday morning.

  Nancy also noticed that the gold pen with the initial N was still available. So were the comic books and board game George wanted, and Rebecca’s pink necklace.

  Mrs. Ramirez looked around now and frowned.

  “We’d better cover everything up before the rain really gets going,” she said. “There are some plastic tarps in the garage. Come on, girls.”

  Mrs. Ramirez headed toward the garage. Rebecca, Bess, and George followed. Nancy was about to follow, too, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

  She stopped and turned around. It was Luna Lamotte. She was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans that were covered with red and purple paint.

  “Hello! It’s me again,” Luna said with a smile. “I was wondering. Did that ballerina painting ever turn up?”

  “No,” Nancy replied. “We’re still looking, though.”

  Luna shook her head “That’s such a shame. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it would be perfect for my women, girls, and goddesses collage. And I’m opening a show of my work in just a few weeks. Oh, yes, speaking of which . . .”

  Luna reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a folded-up pink postcard. It had a picture of a brightly colored collage on it. “Here’s an invitation to the opening. Maybe you and your friends could come—and your parents, too. It’ll be in my studio, which is just a couple of blocks away.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Nancy said, taking the postcard. She turned it over in her hand. It said: “Luna Lamotte: Recent Works. Opening Reception April 22, 2-4 P.M. 245 Montague Street. Everyone welcome!”

  After Luna left, Nancy helped Mrs. Ramirez and the others put plastic tarps over all the tables. While they were working, she saw a familiar figure coming up the driveway. It was Jamison Morris.

  “What? You’re not closing shop, are you?” he snapped at Nancy.

  “We’re just covering everything up because of the rain,” Nancy explained. She wondered why Mr. Morris had returned.

  As if reading her mind, Mr. Morris said, “There was a silver pocket watch here yesterday. I wasn’t going to buy it, but then I had a change of heart. Is it still available, young lady?”

  “Hmm. I think someone bought that,” Nancy replied.

  Mr. Morris frowned. “I knew I should have grabbed it when I had the chance. He who hesitates, et cetera.” He turned to go.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Morris?” Nancy said. “Do you remember that painting of the ballerina?”

  Mr. Morris raised his eyebrows. “What? Oh, yes, that worthless old thing. What of it?”

  “Worthless? But you were looking at it a lot,” Nancy pointed out.

  “I was looking at it because I was trying to see if there was a signature. I was curious about whether the artist was a local person.” Mr. Morris stared at Nancy with a strange expression. “Why do you ask, young lady?”

  “Well, it’s missing,” Nancy replied. “I’m just trying to figure out if anyone might know anything about it.”

  “Missing, is it? Well, it’s no great loss, I assure you.” Mr. Morris paused. “You’re not suggesting that I know anything about it, are you?”

  “Well, no, but—” Nancy began.

  Mr. Morris narrowed his eyes at her. “I would be careful about accusing people of such things if I were you, young lady. Especially someone like me. I’m a very important man.” And with that, he turned on his heels and left.

  • • •

  “He was pretty mad at me,” Nancy told George, Bess, and Rebecca.

  It was ten A.M. The four of them were walking over to Montague Street, to Luna Lamotte’s studio. Because the rain seemed to be keeping the customers away, Mrs. Ramirez had told them that they could take a little break. Nancy had gotten the idea to check out Luna Lamotte’s studio, to see if the ballerina painting might be there.

  Bess huddled closer to Nancy. The two of them were sharing a yellow umbrella that they’d borrowed from the Ramirezes. George and Rebecca were sharing an orange one.

  “Do you think Mr. Morris took my painting?” Bess asked Nancy.

  Nancy shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think we need more evidence.”

  Nancy pulled the pink postcard out of her jeans pocket and glanced at the address. “Number 245 Montague Street-there it is.” She pointed to a big purple house with blue shutters. In the back was a large purple barn with big windows and skylights.

  “I bet that barn is Ms. Lamotte’s studio,” George said.

  “Wow, I’d like a cool studio like that,” Rebecca said, her eyes shining. “I could store all my costumes there, and we could put on plays and stuff. The Case of the Missing Painting, starring Rebecca Ramirez. The Garage Sale Mystery, starring Rebecca Ramirez.”

  Nancy giggled, then crossed the yard in the direction of the studio. The other girls followed.

  When they got closer to the studio, they stopped in their tracks. “Listen!” Bess whispered.

  Nancy’s heart began beating faster. A really scary noise was coming from inside the studio. It sounded like someone screaming!

  7

  A Sticky Clue

  Nancy listened carefully. She heard the noise again. It was a really strange noise, not quite human. It sounded like the cries of an animal or the screeching of an out-of-tune violin.

  Nancy tried to ignore the wild beating of her heart. There’s nothing to be afraid of, she told herself. But she didn’t quite believe it.

  She tiptoed up to one of the oversize windows and peered inside. The pane was grimy and paint-covered, and it was a little hard to see through it.

  Luna Lamotte’s studio was one big room with really high ceilings. There were tall shelves filled with vases of dried flowers, seashells, potted plants, and antique dolls. The floor was covered with paint-spattered dropcloths. There were buckets of brushes and cans of paint of all different colors: red, blue, yellow, green, black, white, purple, silver, gold.

  Luna Lamotte was standing in the far corner of the room. She was dressed in a really weird outfit: a long white robe and big goggles.

  “Where’s that noise comi
ng from?” George whispered over Nancy’s shoulder.

  “This is too creepy,” Bess complained. “Let’s get out of here!”

  “Wait!” Nancy pressed her face closer to the pane. “Look, guys! I think she’s sawing something.”

  The four of them squinted to see through the grimy window. Nancy was right. Luna Lamotte was running a saw back and forth across a canvas. The motion of the saw was making the strange, screechy sound.

  “It’s my ballerina!” Bess cried out. “She’s cutting it up!”

  Nancy frowned. “Wasn’t the ballerina painting mostly white and pink and purple?”

  Bess hesitated. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

  Nancy nodded at the canvas Luna Lamotte was sawing. “That looks like it’s mostly yellow and red.”

  Bess stared. “Huh. You’re right.”

  “I don’t see any paintings in there that look like the ballerina painting,” George said, glancing around. “There’s that Athena painting over there in the corner, and another one next to it with a bunch of fish on it. But no ballerina.”

  “Maybe Ms. Lamotte’s innocent after all,” Nancy said thoughtfully.

  “Hmm. Now what?” Rebecca said with a sigh. “We’re totally out of suspects.”

  “Now I think we need something to inspire us,” Bess said.

  “Mmm. Double Trouble Caramel-Fudge Fantasy,” Rebecca said, licking her ice cream cone. “My favorite!”

  “Mine is better. Super-Duper Strawberry Bananarama,” Bess said, licking her cone. “It’s got marshmallow bits in it, too. Yum!”

  After leaving Luna Lamotte’s studio, Bess and the others had gone over to the Marvins’ house. Bess had convinced her mother to take them to the Double Dip for ice cream cones. Now the four girls were munching on their cones and walking from the Marvins’ house to the Ramirezes’. The rain had stopped, and the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds.

  Nancy took off her jeans jacket and wrapped it around her waist. She took a bite of her cone. The ice cream was a flavor she’d never had before, called Peppermint Partytime. It was pink, full of peppermint candies—and super-yummy.

  Still, she couldn’t totally enjoy it. She had a mystery to solve, and she had reached a dead end, kind of. None of her suspects seemed to know anything about the missing painting.

  Nancy took another bite of her cone. Just then an idea came to her. She stopped in her tracks.

  George, who was walking behind her, slammed into her. “Hey, Nancy! I almost got my Very Scary Blueberry all over you!” she exclaimed.

  “Oh, sorry, George,” Nancy said. Her blue eyes were sparkling. “Listen, everyone. I just had an idea. Who owns the ballerina painting?”

  “What?” Bess said. “No one does. It’s missing, remember?”

  Nancy shook her head. “No, I mean—who put it in the garage sale?”

  “Oh.” Rebecca took a bite of her ice cream cone. “I don’t remember. Let’s go to my house and ask my mom to check the list.”

  “Why do you care who owns the painting?” George asked Nancy curiously.

  “I’m not sure. I just have this feeling that it could be an important clue,” Nancy replied.

  The girls walked and finished up their ice cream cones in silence. Just before they got to Rebecca’s house, they ran into Karen Koombs, who was walking in the opposite direction.

  “Hey, Karen!” Nancy called out. She popped the last bite of her cone into her mouth. “Were you just at the garage sale?”

  Karen stopped and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans jacket. “Uh, yeah. Are you guys going there now?”

  “Yeah. Remember that ballerina painting?” Bess spoke up. “Somebody stole it! We’ve been looking for it since yesterday, and we even have a bunch of suspects. So if you see or hear anything suspicious . . .”

  Karen’s gaze dropped to the ground. Nancy noticed that she suddenly seemed awfully uncomfortable.

  Then Nancy noticed another thing. Something small and white was stuck to the sleeve of Karen’s jeans jacket. It was a sticker, and it said: “#23/$10.”

  Nancy stared at Karen. “You took the ballerina painting, didn’t you?” she said slowly.

  8

  Case Closed!

  Karen’s face turned bright red. “Yes,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

  Bess, George, and Rebecca gaped at her, and then at Nancy. “How did you know?” Bess asked Nancy.

  Nancy pointed to the sticker on Karen’s sleeve. “That’s the price tag from the ballerina painting,” Nancy explained. “I watched your mom make it up, Rebecca. The number twenty-three is the seller, and—”

  “I’m the seller,” Karen blurted out. “It’s my painting.”

  “What!” Nancy, Bess, George, and Rebecca exclaimed together.

  “I didn’t guess that part!” Nancy added.

  Karen folded her arms across her chest. “See, I’d been bugging my mom and dad for a long time about redecorating my room. They finally said yes. But they said I’d have to sell my old stuff first, to make room for the new stuff.”

  “So you decided to sell the ballerina painting,” George prompted her.

  “Right,” Karen replied. “The ballerina painting, plus some furniture and a bunch of other things, too.”

  Rebecca shook her head. She looked really confused. “I don’t get it. Why would you steal your own painting? I mean, that’s totally weird.”

  “I know.” Karen took a deep breath. “See, I’ve had that painting for a really long time,” she went on. “I guess I liked it more than I thought. But I was kind of embarrassed about changing my mind about selling it. So . . . well . . . I, um. . . .”

  “You kind of took it out of the garage sale without telling anyone,” Nancy finished for her.

  Karen nodded. “Exactly.”

  “I can understand that,” Bess told Karen. “I put some old CD’s and this doll I used to play with in the garage sale. But then I started thinking about my doll and how much fun I used to have with her. I almost took her out of the sale.”

  Karen smiled a little. “So why didn’t you?”

  Bess shrugged. “I really, really wanted the ballerina painting. And I needed to raise the money to buy it. So I figured it was worth selling my doll if I could get the painting.”

  “Wow,” Karen said. “I didn’t realize you wanted my painting so much.”

  “Why don’t we all go to Rebecca’s house together and explain what happened to her mom?” Nancy suggested.

  “I’m sorry I caused all this trouble,” Karen apologized.

  Nancy grinned. “Don’t worry about it, Karen. It’s always fun having a mystery to solve!”

  • • •

  That afternoon the garage sale was a mob scene. The sun was shining, and lots of people were out enjoying the day. Nancy, Bess, George, and Rebecca were busy helping Mrs. Ramirez take care of customers. Karen had offered to help, too, and was assisting with the receipts.

  By the end of the day, almost all the merchandise was gone. George’s toy kitchen, Rebecca’s Halloween costumes, and Bess’s doll and old CD’s had all sold. With the money, George was able to buy the board game she’d wanted, and Rebecca got her pink necklace. Nancy was able to buy the gold pen with the initial N on it.

  Bess came up to Nancy, Karen, and Mrs. Ramirez, who were adding up receipts on the porch. “Well, I’ve got my ten dollars now,” she said, holding up a stack of one-dollar bills. “I don’t have anything to buy, though,” she added in a glum voice.

  Karen and Mrs. Ramirez exchanged a glance. “Well, actually, there’s this cool ballerina painting you might be interested in,” Karen said with a smile.

  Bess’s eyes got as big as saucers. “What? I thought you decided not to sell it.”

  “I know. But I changed my mind—again. I really do want a whole new look for my room.” Karen added, “Plus, I can tell that you really love that painting. So you should have it.”

  “Karen and I discussed it,” Mr
s. Ramirez spoke up. “I called Brenda Carlton, Luna Lamotte, and Jamison Morris on the phone, to make sure it was okay with them that Karen sells you the painting. They all said yes—even Mr. Morris.”

  Bess grinned. “Yes! This is so awesome! I can’t wait to hang the painting in my room!” She turned to Karen. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Karen said, giggling. “Just take good care of it, okay?”

  Mrs. Ramirez held up a stack of receipts. “Oh, by the way, Nancy—I thought you’d be interested. Remember that extra ten dollars I couldn’t account for yesterday?”

  Nancy nodded. “Did you ever figure that out?”

  “I made a mistake,” Mrs. Ramirez admitted. “I must have hit the wrong button on my calculator or something. Anyway, we’re all squared away with the numbers—we made six hundred dollars in two days.”

  Mrs. Ramirez added, “Thanks to you girls. You were a big help!”

  “Any time,” Bess said. “Now, who wants to come to my house to help me hang up my new painting?”

  • • •

  Half an hour later, Nancy, George, Bess, Rebecca, and Karen found themselves in Bess’s bedroom. Bess and Karen were standing on top of the bed, holding the ballerina painting against the wall.

  “More to the left,” George was saying.

  “No, more to the right,” Rebecca corrected her.

  They finally got the painting centered on the wall just right. Bess hammered in a nail and hung up the picture. Then she hopped off her bed and stared at it with a big smile on her face.

  “It’s perfect,” she said with a sigh.

  “It does look really great in here,” Karen agreed. “Take good care of it, okay?”

  “You can visit it anytime you miss it,” Bess told her.

  While the girls were chatting, Nancy sat down in a big stuffed chair in a corner of the room. She pulled her blue notebook out of the pocket of her jeans jacket, and also her new pen that she’d bought at the garage sale. She stared at the pen for a moment, at the pretty gold color and the way the initial N curved so elegantly. Then she began to write.