The Clue in the Camera Page 4

  “Whew. I don’t know what happened there, but I could use a moment to catch my breath,” Emily said, heaving a sigh.

  “Me, too.” Nancy glanced back at the docks. The three men were shoving the net and its contents aside in order to make room for other containers that needed to be unloaded. The crane operator still sat inside the cab.

  “Why don’t we sit down for a while?” suggested Emily, and Nancy felt relieved when Hannah spotted some benches. Her mind was racing.

  “I wonder if that accident just now had anything to do with the telephone call Emily received last night,” Nancy whispered to George. George shook her head and shrugged. Nancy found it hard to believe that Emily Foxworth might have enemies. She still wasn’t sure about Peter Stine, but she didn’t think he could have known they would be on the wharf that afternoon. The situation was baffling.

  Everyone was quiet as they made their way back to Emily’s apartment through San Francisco’s heavy late-afternoon traffic. When they reached it, Tripod, as usual, began to chatter. But the scene that greeted them was not the one they had left that morning. The apartment was a mess.

  “I don’t believe it!” Emily cried, stepping into the living room and staring, horrified, at the chaos. Nancy and George went into action immediately. They checked the rest of the apartment to be sure that no intruder was still around.

  In each room, furniture and possessions were strewn about. Drawers had been opened and their contents dumped to the floor. But nothing seemed to have been damaged or destroyed, which indicated to Nancy that the burglar or burglars had been looking for something specific.

  “Emily, you should call the police,” Hannah said firmly, and Emily picked up the phone and called Lieutenant Chin.

  When she hung up, Nancy asked Emily if she could tell if anything had been stolen. She was beginning to wonder if this incident were connected to the “accident” on the docks, and whether it was all some kind of plot to frighten Emily.

  “My cameras!” Emily exclaimed, and she ran to her darkroom to check her equipment. Nancy urged Emily not to touch anything until the police arrived, but they did notice that all of the cameras had been opened, revealing the empty film chambers, and that the film magazines had been removed and scattered. This was no ordinary robbery, Nancy realized. Hundreds of dollars’ worth of equipment lay strewn on the counters and in the open drawers. Expensive light meters, electronic flash and strobe units, motor drives, and several lenses, all of which could easily have been taken and resold by a thief, had been left behind.

  “All my cameras are still here,” Emily announced. Relieved, she began to inspect the rest of the apartment. As far as she could tell, nothing was missing.

  “Except for my photos . . .” Emily began. She stared at the walls in the living room, and as Nancy and the others joined her, they realized that a few pictures were missing from her informal gallery near the sofa. Nancy noticed that the intriguing shot of Harold Kesack was among those that had been taken. She returned to the hallway and the bedrooms and saw other gaps where clusters of photos had hung.

  Before the police arrived and began to ask their questions, Nancy made some mental notes. “The negative files are a mess,” she observed as she returned to the darkroom. Why had someone apparently gone after selected photos and then tried to get the negatives, too?

  Returning to the living room, Nancy stopped when she noticed a slip of paper blow across the floor. She looked up, wondering where the breeze was coming from, and saw the open skylight. This time, an intruder had succeeded in entering through the window in the roof.

  Nancy continued her inspection, looking for footprints or any other evidence that might be helpful. She found only a small folded piece of paper in one corner of the room. She opened it to find the numbers “37-4-11-12” scrawled in dark ink. She puzzled over them for a moment, then folded the paper and stuck it in the pocket of her jeans, just as footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs outside Emily’s apartment.

  Emily answered the knock and let the police in—a uniformed officer from the neighborhood and Lieutenant Chin.

  “Emily, you’re calling me all the time now,” the lieutenant teased her. “Don’t you think you’re taking advantage of our friendship?” He greeted the others and introduced everyone to Officer Johnson.

  Both men examined the apartment. Then they questioned Emily and her guests about the break-in and robbery. Nancy mentioned that none of Emily’s photographic equipment had been stolen.

  “The only things missing are some photos off the walls,” Emily said, clearly puzzled.

  “Are you sure you aren’t making enemies by investigating some hot news story?” asked the lieutenant.

  “I’m sure, Don. You’ve seen my pictures. And now I’m working on the urban children story. Who would be angry with me because I’m photographing little kids?”

  “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. This is a strange one. I’ll stay in touch and see if I can’t move the investigation along for you. Keep me filled in on anything else you think might be related, all right?”

  “You ought to know about an incident that happened down at the docks today, Lieutenant Chin.” Nancy spoke up. She described the accident to the police officer. Hannah and George told the officers what they had seen.

  “Also, Hannah was nearly hit by a couple of speeding cars yesterday,” Nancy said. “I thought at the time that they were just reckless drivers, but with everything else that’s been happening, I’m not so sure now.” Nancy gave the lieutenant a description of the cars and told him where the incident had occurred.

  Chin looked startled, then concerned. “I’m not happy to hear this,” he said. “One of those cars is a perfect match for one we spotted yesterday, one we believe belongs to a syndicate man—one of their leaders.”

  “Donald, there are always syndicate men around here. Why are you so worried?” Emily wanted to know.

  “Because right now there are a few more than normal. Our men at the airport and around the waterfront report seeing a lot of characters who haven’t been seen or heard from in years. There are some big names in from Chicago. Seattle, too.” The lieutenant went on to describe sightings of some known syndicate strong-arms and hit men.

  “Why are they all gathering in San Francisco right now?” Nancy asked.

  “We’re not sure yet. That’s what worries us. We’re quite certain that something big is about to happen. It takes a major operation for these types to risk being seen together where we’re so familiar with their faces. But we’re not even sure where to look or, for that matter, what to look for or when to look for it.”

  The officers completed their inspection of Emily’s apartment and asked her to sign their report. Then they gathered up their equipment and got ready to leave.

  Lieutenant Chin hesitated at the door. He looked at Emily soberly. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but I want you to watch out for yourself,” he told her. “Let me know if you see or hear anything unusual, or even if you just think something might be wrong. Is that clear?”

  Emily agreed, insisting that she couldn’t think of a reason why anyone would try to do more than scare her.

  Nancy watched the departing officers. She thought they seemed worried. She looked at Emily and shivered. Whatever was wrong, Nancy was suddenly certain that Emily Foxworth was somehow in the middle of it, and that the photographer’s life was in real danger.

  7

  The Dark Room

  “Emily,” Nancy said, “I’m not sure what exactly is going on here, although it must have something to do with your photographs. If you don’t mind, I’d like to see your exhibit at the gallery. Maybe a clue, a missing link, will be found there. Why don’t we help you clean up this mess, and then I’ll go to the gallery?”

  “Why don’t we all go?” Hannah suggested. “We haven’t been there yet, and I’d love to see Emily’s other work.”

  “Good idea.” Emily picked up a broken candy dish and drop
ped it in a wastebasket. “I’d like to make sure everything is in order there, anyway.”

  Working together, the four replaced drawers and restocked cupboards and shelves with Emily’s possessions. Hannah put Emily’s books back in the cases, George hung up clothes, and Emily and Nancy straightened up the darkroom. They closed the camera backs and returned the negatives to the file case.

  When everything was cleaned up, Emily telephoned for a taxi. Fifteen minutes later, Nancy and her friends were entering the gallery, housed in a large brick building. The gallery was well lit and decorated in gray and maroon. Nancy stepped onto lush carpeting, aware of the quiet. Bronzes sat on pedestals in the middle of the room. Several oils by one artist and some water-colors by another hung on freshly painted walls.

  Nancy watched as George stood before an abstract painting, fascinated by the vibrancy of its colors and its suggestive forms.

  “Where are your photographs?” Hannah whispered to Emily.

  “Next room,” Emily replied, escorting the group through a doorway.

  “Emily,” Nancy said immediately, “your photos are wonderful!”

  But Emily stared at the walls, a look of annoyance crossing her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Hannah asked her.

  “Huh? Oh, it’s just that some of my work isn’t up yet. Faith promised everything would be set up and ready. I guess I’d better go find her. Not only do I have to take the pictures, I have to hang them as well.”

  “Want some help?” George offered.

  “Thanks. I can handle it. The rest are probably right where I left them, in my portfolio in the storeroom. I’ll go check.”

  Hannah and George decided to browse through the rest of the gallery, while Nancy took a close look at each of Emily’s photos, searching for . . . she wasn’t sure what.

  She was standing in front of one of them when a voice said, “They’re lovely, aren’t they?”

  Nancy turned around to face a heavyset woman who appeared to be in her late forties. She wore a loud pants suit, and her hair was dyed a bright, brassy blond. The woman extended her hand. “I’m Faith Arnold. I own the gallery. And the photos you’re admiring are the work of Emily—”

  “I’m a friend of Emily’s,” Nancy interrupted her.

  “Oh.”

  Nancy thought she detected a change in the woman’s tone of voice. “Emily’s gone to check the storeroom for the rest of her photos,” she added. “She says some of them aren’t on display.” She eyed the woman steadily. Faith Arnold looked distinctly uncomfortable. Nancy was about to ask her a few questions when she realized that Emily had been gone much longer than necessary.

  At that moment, a movement outside the window of the gallery caused Nancy to forget about Faith Arnold. Nancy suddenly saw the same thin, wiry man she and George had followed outside Emily’s apartment. “George!” she yelled, running to the door.

  Nancy was out the door in seconds, with George in hot pursuit. They stopped at the corner, looking up and down the street.

  “What is it?” George asked, trying to catch her breath. “You took off so fast—”

  “I saw him.”

  “Who?”

  “The same guy we chased before. Outside Emily’s. But it looks like we lost him again.”

  “I wonder what he wants. Why is he watching us?”

  “I don’t know. If we could talk to him, some of this mystery would be cleared up.”

  The girls quickly returned to the art gallery. Nancy found Hannah and asked her if she’d seen Emily.

  Hannah shook her head. “Not since she disappeared into the storeroom.”

  Uh-oh, thought Nancy, but she just said lightly, “Let’s go see what’s taking her so long.”

  Faith Arnold was busy showing a customer some artwork, so Nancy, George, and Hannah decided to find their own way to the back of the building. They reached a door marked “Storage,” which Nancy opened, only to be met by blackness.

  “Turn on the lights,” said George.

  As Nancy fumbled for the light switch, she heard a scuffle at the far end of the room.

  “Help!” came Emily’s frantic call. Nancy rushed into the room, forgetting to look for the lights. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, she, George, and Hannah saw the figures of two men pulling Emily out the back door and into an alley.

  Nancy threw herself at one of the assailants and subdued him with a well-placed karate kick. Emily fought hard, biting and scratching the man who held her firmly in his grip. George joined the struggle then, but she was shoved roughly against a wall, while Nancy was pushed to the floor by the recovered kidnapper.

  Hannah stood silently in stunned disbelief as the two men raced out the door with their struggling victim. As soon as they had gone, she ran to George and Nancy. “Are you all right?” she cried.

  The girls stood up shakily and found that they were bruised but otherwise unhurt.

  Nancy wasted no time in running outside and down the alley after the kidnappers. She reached the street just in time to see the men shove Emily through the door of a waiting limousine. The driver gunned the engine, and the limousine jerked forward, hitting a trash can and sending garbage flying everywhere. Nancy, out of breath, quit running when she realized that the car’s license plates had been covered with mud and she had no way of identifying the vehicle. Sadly, she returned to George and Hannah. She had to tell them that Emily Foxworth was gone.

  8

  Trailing the Tail

  Rubbing her bruised arm, which was beginning to throb, Nancy ducked through the back door into the gloomy storeroom. George finally found the switchplate and turned the lights on.

  “Let’s get a good look around here before anyone comes in and destroys possible evidence,” Nancy suggested. “And, Hannah, why don’t you find a phone and get hold of Lieutenant Chin?”

  Hannah merely nodded, obviously frightened, and left the storeroom quickly.

  George and Nancy scoured the warehouselike room for clues. Near the door, Nancy found Emily’s camera. It was lying open on the floor. When she looked at it closely, but without touching it, she discovered that it had been deliberately broken. The lens had been smashed hard against the concrete floor. The camera back had been torn open, its hinges bent. And the film spools had been ripped from their sockets. The film itself was missing, except for a shred that clung to the sprockets near the shutter.

  “Nancy, do you think this might be important?” Nancy looked up from the camera. George was pointing to a handle which was lying on a stack of packing boxes. Like the camera, it had been broken, probably yanked off something. Also like the camera, the damage appeared to have been done quickly and violently. Part of the case that the handle was once fastened to was still hanging from a twisted hinge.

  “Maybe it’s one of the handles from Emily’s portfolio case,” George murmured.

  “That’s a good possibility,” replied Nancy, taking a closer look at the handle. “Maybe the case is still around here somewhere.” She and George searched the room for the portfolio, but Nancy had a feeling they weren’t going to find it.

  Faith Arnold appeared in the doorway then. She cleared her throat. “I, uh . . .” She hesitated.

  Nancy turned toward her.

  “The case . . . it’s . . . well, I think . . . if it was the portfolio I left here earlier. . . .” Faith Arnold ran a hand nervously through her hair, brushing her bangs back from her face. “There were several photos of Emily’s in it. They were for the exhibit.”

  “Emily’s been kidnapped,” Nancy told her flatly. “The police are on the way.”

  Faith Arnold straightened up. “Oh, no,” she said softly. “I don’t believe it . . . I suppose I ought to go wait for them.”

  Lieutenant Chin showed up a few moments later, dressed in street clothes. Nancy, George, and Hannah met him at the front of the gallery. This time, he didn’t smile when he greeted them. Nancy introduced him to Faith Arnold, and then he grimly began questioning t
he four about the events surrounding Emily’s kidnapping.

  Just as Nancy and Faith Arnold were about to lead the lieutenant back to the storeroom, Peter Stine marched into the gallery. He walked directly over to the group. “I just happened to be in the neighborhood and heard about the ruckus,” he said. He grinned at Nancy.

  “I don’t see what you’re smiling about,” she replied sharply.

  “What are you doing here?” Chin asked him. “Looking for a story, I suppose?” Without waiting for a reply, the lieutenant turned back to the women, asking them how the kidnappers had taken Emily.

  “The lights were out,” Nancy explained. “But those guys seemed to know their way around.” She described the struggle.

  “I’ll put out an all-points bulletin on the limo, Nancy. I wish you could give me a clearer description of the men. Is there anything else I should know about?” Lieutenant Chin scribbled hastily in his small notebook. Nancy glanced at George and Hannah and shook her head.

  “Not that I can think of, Lieutenant.” She didn’t mention the missing photos or the man who’d followed them. Stine, asking questions, drew Lieutenant Chin away from Nancy. She quickly whispered to Hannah and George, “I don’t know whom to trust anymore. I think we’ve been watched ever since we arrived in San Francisco. But by whom? The police? Stine? The mob?”

  George nodded in agreement. “I know what you mean,” she said.

  Lieutenant Chin turned abruptly away from Peter Stine. “I’ll look at the storeroom now,” he said to Nancy. “The rest of you”—he glared at Stine—“can wait here. We won’t be long.”

  Lieutenant Chin glanced around the storeroom. He noted the smashed camera on the floor and the handle lying on the packing case. “Probably won’t be any fingerprints,” he said, “but I’ll get some technicians in here, anyway.” He snapped his notebook shut.