The Case of the Lost Song Read online

  was momentarily obscured. When the crowd parted,

  she saw he wasn't alone.

  He had one hand on the shoulder of a pretty girl

  with long black hair and big dark eyes. She was about

  Bess's height, very slim and petite. Bess sighed as Jason

  steered the girl away from the bar and ducked behind a

  curtain near the small stage, pulling the girl after him.

  Bess sighed again and started to turn away.

  Nancy patted her shoulder. “Hey, there are plenty of

  other great-looking guys at this party, Bess.”

  “But they aren't Jason,” she grumbled, glancing back

  at the curtain. Nancy rolled her eyes, then watched in

  surprise as the girl dashed out from behind the curtain.

  Her face was flushed, and she looked flustered. The

  girl elbowed her way through the dancers, her eyes

  blazing, her lips pursed.

  “What a creep!” she grumbled to herself as she

  passed Nancy.

  Nancy stared after her. What had Jason done? she

  wondered, then decided it wasn't her business.

  Jason was making his way quickly across the dance

  floor. He looked angry or annoyed or disgusted—

  Nancy couldn't quite tell which. Bess didn't seem to

  notice. She planted herself directly in his path.

  “Hi!” Bess greeted him brightly. “Want to dance?”

  Jason stared at her as if he'd never laid eyes on her

  before. His expression darkened. Without so much as a

  nod of recognition, he marched off through the crowd.

  3. Double Vision

  “What's his problem?” Nancy shot a look of disgust at

  Jason's back, then turned to Bess. Bess's lower lip was

  trembling. The guy had practically reduced Bess to

  tears.

  “Hey, he's just a primo jerk.” Nancy patted Bess's

  shoulder.

  Bess heaved a deep sigh, then forced a smile. “Right.

  Shows you looks can be deceiving. When am I ever

  going to learn?”

  “He had me fooled, too,” Nancy was quick to point

  out. “He seemed so sweet this afternoon.” Whatever

  had happened between him and that girl had put him

  in a bad mood. Not that that excused him for being so

  mean to Bess.

  “What a two-faced skunk!” Bess gasped, grabbing

  Nancy's arm.

  Nancy followed Bess's gaze. Jason was directly

  across the floor, talking animatedly to Eddie Lan-

  dowski and a well-dressed older man. Jason shook the

  older man's hand, his face all smiles.

  Bess snorted. “I guess lowly souls like us don't

  count.”

  Nancy shrugged. Privately disappointed, she told

  Bess, “Jason's probably just working the crowd for

  contacts, and we shouldn't let him stop us from having

  a good time.” Just then the next song blasted out of the

  speakers. “I feel like dancing. Come on . . .” Nancy

  began to tug Bess toward the dance floor.

  Bess hung back. “Sorry, Nan. I'm not in the mood.

  I'm going back to the buffet to drown my sorrows in

  one of those dips.”

  While Bess worked her way back to the lavish buffet,

  Nancy decided to look for George. She skirted the

  dance floor and pressed herself against the wall. She

  found herself standing next to the girl Jason had been

  with.

  “Hi,” Nancy said.

  The young woman turned her dark eyes on Nancy

  and frowned lightly. “Do I know you?”

  Nancy shook her head. “No. I'm here with Lisa

  Perrone. My friends and I are staying with her for the

  weekend. You work with Lisa?”

  The young woman nodded. Nancy realized that

  whatever blowup she'd had with Jason, she was over

  it—or had at least calmed down. “She's our new in-

  tern—very nice and smart, too,” she said, then smiled.

  “Oh, by the way, I'm Inez.”

  Nancy introduced herself and checked Inez's

  nametag. Her last name was Rivera. “So what's your

  job?”

  “I'm a publicist.”

  “Oh.” Hadn't Lisa mentioned that Jason was hired

  by the publicity department? Maybe his fight with Inez

  was business related and not a romantic blowup.

  Curious, Nancy asked casually, “So you know Jason

  from work?”

  “Jason?” Inez repeated neutrally. “You mean Jason

  Woodard?”

  “Yes, the photographer,” Nancy answered.

  “Sure. I know Jason,” Inez said with a shrug. “What

  about him?”

  Nancy was taken aback. Inez was acting as if nothing

  had happened between them.

  “Sorry, got to go,” Inez said suddenly. “Some friends

  of mine just turned up. See you later,” Inez closed with

  a friendly smile, then started toward the front door.

  Before she took two steps, she stopped. “But if you're

  looking for Jason, he's over there.” She gestured with

  her head.

  Nancy's jaw dropped. Jason certainly was right over

  there—dancing up a storm with George. The DJ had

  switched to a hot top-ten swing tune, and George, who

  adored swing, looked as if she was having the time of

  her life.

  “I don't believe it,” Nancy muttered, then noticed

  that in the very overheated room, Jason had put a red

  scarf around his neck. His cheeks were bright pink.

  The music blared a moment longer, then stopped.

  George and Jason fell against each other, laughing.

  George raked back her short hair, caught sight of

  Nancy, and waved. Grabbing Jason's hand, George

  practically dragged him toward Nancy.

  “Hi, Nancy.” Jason grinned broadly.

  Nancy was tempted to tell him exactly what she

  thought of his two-faced behavior.

  Before she could, George exclaimed, “Wait until you

  hear this! Jason has a brother. A twin brother.”

  “Have you seen him around? We look exactly alike,”

  Jason added. “He told me to meet him here.” Flashing

  a particularly warm smile at George, he added, “I sort

  of got waylaid.”

  “Did you just get here?” Nancy asked.

  “Yeah, probably five minutes ago.” Jason hesitated.

  “Why?”

  Nancy giggled softly. “I think I've already met your

  brother. And Bess and I probably owe him an apology.

  We wondered why you were giving us the cold

  shoulder, when it wasn't even you.”

  Jason nodded. “Everyone gets us mixed up, for at

  least the first three seconds. Then they realize how

  completely different we are. Ethan's more low-key. I'm

  the people person, he's more into”—Jason dropped his

  voice—“he's an antiques geek. He's passionate about

  everything old or collectible: heirloom quilts, Civil War

  swords, tribal art, pop star memorabilia . . .” Jason

  seemed about to say more but cut himself off. “See for

  yourself,” he added.

  Nancy saw Jason's double approaching, this time his

  face wreathed in smiles. The brothers, both dressed in

  black, were identical. The only clue that they were

  different men was Jason's
red scarf and the fact that his

  face was still a bit pink from dancing.

  Looking directly at Nancy, Jason's twin said, “Hi, I

  heard you're one of the girls who discovered that Lou

  Knight tape.” His tone was a bit stiff and more formal

  than Jason's. Nancy couldn't picture him dancing with

  George. How did a guy like this even know who a blues

  singer like Lou Knight was?

  George gaped at Ethan. “Where'd you hear about

  my tape?”

  Before Ethan could answer, Jason introduced him to

  Nancy and George. Jason added with a wicked gleam

  in his eye, “Ethan has a way of ferreting out info, don't

  you, dude?”

  Ignoring his brothers mocking tone, Ethan

  shrugged. “I didn't have to dig to find out about the

  tape. Wes Clarke has spread the word already.”

  “Why did he do that?” Nancy frowned. “He warned

  us not to tell people about it.”

  “I'm sure he didn't tell everyone. He knows I'm into

  pop memorabilia. At the very least I'd love to hear the

  tape, and if you do decide to auction it, I might put in a

  bid.”

  Jason cleared his throat loudly. “As if you could

  afford it. Or do you have a side job besides the one at

  Westfield's?”

  “I wish!” Ethan said.

  “Westfield's?” Nancy was impressed. Westfield's was

  a small but prestigious fine arts and antiques auction

  house in Chicago. She'd heard quite a bit about it over

  the years from her father's wealthy clients. Westfield's

  had a reputation for honesty and fair dealing. “You

  work for them?” Nancy's opinion of Ethan went up a

  notch or two.

  Ethan puffed up a little. “Yes,” he admitted. “I'm

  one of two appraisers in training there.”

  “Translation: entry-level grunt work,” Jason teased.

  Ethan shot him a cool look. “Someday I'll have a

  chance to earn commissions—anyway, I do have some

  savings,” he said to George. “Though if this is the lost

  version of that song, as Wes said, it will be too rich for

  me. I am a bit of a blues freak, and I have every Lou

  Knight record ever made. I probably couldn't verify

  that the tape you found is the lost one, but there might

  be some clues on it about why the band broke up. I'd

  be interested to check it out.”

  “I—I don't know.” George questioned Nancy with a

  look.

  “The appraiser did say that you shouldn't play it

  much. It's fragile, and if it broke . . .” Nancy said,

  shaking her head no.

  Ethan hurried to reassure them. “I know lots of

  professional musicians with professional equipment.

  The musicians will treat it like gold. And of course you

  girls would be there. I would never ask you to lend it to

  me.”

  “If you put it that way,” George said, still hesitant.

  “But we'll be here only for the weekend.”

  “That's okay. I can set something up. Are you going

  to Jason's party tomorrow night?”

  “Of course they are,” Jason said quickly. “Though I

  haven't had a chance to invite them yet. Come with

  Lisa. It's an opening at my loft to show my new prints.

  Bring your pretty blond friend, too.”

  “Great,” George said.

  “And bring the tape with you,” Ethan suggested. “I'll

  make some calls tomorrow to see who has the right

  equipment.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Nancy said.

  “I'd better run. This is a work night for me,” Ethan

  explained, and started across the floor.

  “I'm going to the buffet. You girls want anything?”

  Jason offered.

  Nancy and George both said no. They watched as

  Jason caught up with Ethan and said something to him.

  “Tell me I'm not dreaming!” Bess's exclamation

  made both girls look around. Bess was staring wide-

  eyed at the twins' backs.

  “You are not dreaming,” Nancy said with a smile.

  “You're only seeing double,” George added.

  “There are two Jasons?” Bess babbled. Then she

  started to laugh at herself. “I mean, he's got a twin.

  Two guys who look like that?”

  “The other one, the one who really didn't recognize

  us before,” Nancy explained, “is Ethan.”

  “Oh.” Bess paused to digest this. “Still,” she said

  stiffly, “even if he didn't know us, he didn't have to act

  so rude.”

  “Jason said he's just shy,” George said.

  “If he's expecting to have a career at an upscale

  company like Westfield's, he'd better improve his

  people skills,” Nancy pointed out.

  A couple of hours later Lisa opened the door to her

  apartment. “Didn't we turn the lights out?” she asked

  as they walked into the foyer.

  The living room wall sconces were lit.

  “Nancy came back in for her scarf, remember,” Bess

  recalled. “You probably put the lights on,” she told

  Nancy.

  “I did,” Nancy admitted with a puzzled frown. “But

  I'm sure I turned them off again.”

  “No big deal.” Lisa shrugged.

  After taking off their shoes, the four girls trooped

  through the living room on the way to bed. The light

  switch was near the display case, and Lisa stopped to

  turn it off.

  “Wait!” George gasped, grabbing Lisa's arm. She

  looked on either side of the glass front cabinet.

  “Where's my tape recorder? I left it right here, by the

  case.” Panic-stricken, she looked at Nancy. “It's gone!”

  So someone has been in here since we left! The

  thought zipped through Nancy's mind. Instinctively she

  cast her gaze around the room. Nothing seemed out of

  order. The terrace door was closed. No, she must have

  just forgotten to turn the lights off. “It can't be gone,

  George,” Nancy said reasonably.

  Bess scoffed at the very idea. “You brought it into

  the bedroom. I'm sure you did. Besides, where would

  it go?”

  Lisa laughed. “It's not like anyone could get into this

  place.”

  “Right,” George said, hurrying to the guest room. “I

  probably brought it in here with my knapsack. . . .” Her

  voice trailed off, and the sound of closets being opened

  and closed filtered back into the living room.

  A minute later a pale-faced George charged out of

  the bedroom.

  “It's not there. Someone's stolen the tape recorder.”

  4. Without a Trace

  Nancy and the other girls gaped at George. After a

  moment's stunned silence, Lisa spoke up. “George,

  how could anyone have stolen your tape recorder? No

  one's broken into this apartment.”

  Nancy wondered. “Does anyone else know the code

  to the front door?” she asked.

  Lisa replied impatiently. “No. Just me and my aunt

  and uncle—and the super of the building. I think he

  has some kind of override code for all the apartments

  in case of an emergency. The tape recorder has to be in
/>
  the apartment. George, retrace your steps. Are you

  sure you brought it in from the car?”

  “Yes, yes,” George repeated, annoyed.

  “She did. I remember coming up in the elevator

  with it. I rested my duffel bag on top of it,” Bess said.

  “Then you just must have put it down somewhere

  else, George,” Lisa insisted, checking the living room.

  “I'll check the bedrooms again,” Bess volunteered.

  George ran her fingers through her hair. “No. No. I

  remember putting it down to look at that blow-dart

  thing in the cabinet. Then I went into the guest room.

  I'm telling you it's stolen.” She sat down heavily on the

  sofa and heaved a sigh.

  Meanwhile Nancy scrutinized the room. She, too,

  remembered George's leaving the tape recorder by the

  display case while they checked out the artifacts.

  Someone had to have been in the apartment after

  they'd left for the party. And whoever it was had left

  the lights on.

  Nancy checked the terrace door. It was definitely

  closed. She looked out. The rain had stopped earlier,

  and now the clouds were breaking up, scuttling across

  the moon. The lights of Lake Shore Drive sparkled in

  the waters of Lake Michigan. Nancy wrenched her

  eyes away from the view and noticed a small puddle of

  water on the floor by the terrace door. It wasn't much,

  and it could have blown in under the bottom of the

  door during the storm.

  She touched the door handle. To her surprise, even

  though a key was in the keyhole, the door slid right

  open. “Lisa, don't you keep this locked?”

  “Why bother? We're on the twentieth floor.”

  Just then Bess came back into the living room, her

  expression grim. “George is right, the case has just

  vanished.” Bess sat down next to George, putting a

  hand on her cousin's shoulder.

  Nancy opened the terrace door wider, and a cool

  breeze streamed in. She queried Lisa. “Okay if I go out

  here?”

  “Sure,” Lisa said glumly. “I just can't believe

  someone stole that tape recorder, George. I feel ter-

  rible, and I don't know what to do.”

  “Call the police for one thing,” Nancy suggested,

  going back to the foyer and grabbing her flats. She

  went back into the living room and put them on. “I'm

  taking a look around out here.” Nancy ventured onto

  the terrace, sidestepping the puddles. She looked up