The Case of the Lost Song Read online

  she gasped, then with a quick gesture punched her

  keyboard, blanking out the screen.

  6. Partners in Crime?

  What does Inez have to hide? Nancy wondered, but

  she masked her interest with an apologetic smile.

  “Didn't mean to interrupt your work. Lisa's showing

  me around the office, and I saw that your door was

  open.”

  Inez relaxed a little. “Sorry to be so jumpy. I was

  shopping, and we're not supposed to go online for

  personal stuff from these computers,” she said, low-

  ering her voice to a conspiratorial tone.

  What a lame excuse, Nancy thought. “So, that party

  was pretty hot last night,” Nancy said, changing the

  subject as she moved into the room. “I'm Nancy, in

  case you forgot.”

  “Uh, right. You were looking for Jason?” Inez stood

  up, putting her hands in the pocket of her hooded

  sweatshirt. Like Nancy, she was wearing jeans. It was

  obvious to Nancy that Inez was trying to block her view

  of the desk. From where Nancy stood, all she could see

  was a stack of five-by-seven index cards near the

  computer. “Did you find him?”

  “Yeah, I did. I met his brother Ethan, too.”

  Inez didn't react to Ethan's name. “Always weird

  seeing the two of them together” was all she said. After

  a moment's hesitation, she asked, “How long have you

  known Jason?”

  “I met him yesterday,” Nancy said. “He was pho-

  tographing people at one of the tables at the show. He

  said he works for the publicity department, which I

  guess means you.”

  “In a way, I guess he does. I give him assignments,

  clue him in on who's brought items of interest to the

  show.” Inez gestured absently toward the stack of

  cards.

  “Oh, you keep track of who's brought what to the

  various shows?”

  “Of course. We build a client list for ourselves to

  notify people where we'll be next.”

  Nancy filed that information away. Probably all of

  the burglary victims had home addresses in the Old

  Can Be Gold database. That could be evidence that

  someone in-house was involved.

  Something didn't jibe, though. “My friends and I all

  had objects appraised yesterday,” Nancy said, “but we

  didn't fill out cards. How come?”

  “Sometimes items that aren't worth much fall

  through the cracks. An appraiser figures that you won't

  be return business. What did you have appraised?”

  Nancy told Inez about the fake Al Capone Wanted

  poster and Bess's jewelry. She decided to mention

  George's tape recorder since there was a good chance

  Inez knew about it anyway. “And my friend has this

  funky old reel-to-reel tape recorder,” Nancy said, de-

  liberately not mentioning that it had gone missing.

  “I heard,” Inez revealed readily. “Wes Clarke was

  saying it might be a real find because of a lost song on a

  tape inside the machine.”

  “No one bothered to have George fill out a card,

  either.” The more Nancy thought about it, that meant

  that whoever burgled Lisa's apartment not only didn't

  need to know where George lived, but somehow knew

  about the girls' last-minute decision to stay at the

  condo. To Inez she added, “Was that some sort of

  oversight?”

  “Dave would be equipped to judge the machine but

  probably not the tape. Whoever he referred your

  friend to would have her fill out a card when she brings

  the machine in today.”

  The more Inez talked the more certain Nancy was

  that she knew nothing about the burglary the night

  before. She had been acting suspicious when Nancy

  walked in. Maybe what she was doing on the computer

  was against company rules but not related to the thefts.

  Nancy decided to pick her brain some more. “Don't

  you guys worry that something might get stolen at the

  shows?”

  “Stolen?” Inez paled slightly. After a moment she

  asked, “Have we ever been robbed?” She shot Nancy a

  piercing glance, as if trying to read her mind. “No, we

  haven't had any incidents outside of the occasional

  pickpocket reports. Even those are pretty rare. Old

  Can Be Gold prides itself on being safe for collectors.”

  “Oh, Inez,” Lisa spoke up as she entered Inez's

  office. “You don't have to lie to Nancy. She knows all

  about the burglaries, and she's going to help us find out

  who's behind them.”

  Inez looked abruptly from Lisa to Nancy. “I don't

  understand.”

  Nancy was sure Lisa's revelation had made Inez

  more nervous, so Nancy tried to reassure her. “Mr.

  Landowski has asked me to look into the burglaries.”

  “So that's why you were quizzing me.” The defensive

  tone in Inez's voice was unmistakable.

  “Nancy was quizzing you?” Lisa looked sharply at

  Nancy. “Inez didn't have anything to do with those

  burglaries.”

  Nancy threw her hands up and managed to laugh. “I

  didn't say she did. I just wanted to find out what kind

  of records you guys kept of your clients.”

  “Well, I would have felt better if you had been

  upfront and just asked me about the databases,” Inez

  informed Nancy tightly. “But I'm glad you're on the

  case, and I wish you luck in cracking it.”

  Inez sounded sincere enough, Nancy reflected as

  she and Lisa left the office. But at the same time

  Nancy believed that Inez was hiding something—

  whether it was related to the burglaries, Nancy had no

  idea.

  All she knew so far was that the robbery had oc-

  curred while the girls were at the party and that

  whoever had broken into the apartment knew that

  George had brought the tape there. Had someone

  trailed them to the building and sneaked past the

  concierge? Nancy visualized the hallway. The apart-

  ment was down a side hall, out of sight from the el-

  evators. Could someone have watched Lisa punch in

  the code last night? Nancy couldn't imagine how the

  girls would have missed someone in the hall. Nancy

  made a mental note to find out if there were other

  ways to steal a keypad code. Once inside, the thief

  could have locked the door behind him or her and left

  via the terrace and . . . and what?

  As she drove to the university, Nancy reminded

  herself she should check the terrace again by daylight.

  Somehow in the morning rush she had forgotten. An

  agile cat burglar could manage a getaway scaling up the

  terraces to the roof. The scenario was improbable but

  couldn't be ruled out.

  Still, Nancy's experience had taught her that the

  simpler a theory, the more likely it was right.

  Nancy wondered if Lisa should be put on her list of

  suspects. Lisa could have given someone her apartment

  code—or lied about someone else's already having it.

  Nancy hated suspecting Lisa,
but she had to be

  checked out.

  Who else knew where they were staying? Nancy

  tried to recall who had been hanging around the ap-

  praisal table. Dave Leinberger of course. Then there

  was that weird Wes Clarke. Why had he even bothered

  following them to the table? Nancy wondered as she

  exited the highway. Wes had said the recorder was

  probably worth less than peanuts. Then there was

  Jason, but Nancy dismissed him quickly. He hadn't

  even recognized the band.

  Suddenly she realized that Lisa hadn't said a word

  during the whole trip. “Is everything okay?” Nancy

  asked, shooting a quick glance across the front seat of

  the Mustang.

  Lisa bit her lip, then blurted, “No. No, it's not. I

  can't believe you made Inez feel like a criminal. She's a

  friend of mine, Nancy, and she's an honest person. No

  way she's involved in these burglaries.”

  “I'm sorry she felt that way, Lisa. But to solve this I

  have to question everyone. She gave me some good

  information about the company's databases. Whoever

  robbed those clients' houses must have had access to

  the Old Can Be Gold records. If it makes you feel

  better, I'm pretty sure she didn't know anything about

  George's missing tape.”

  Lisa looked at Nancy hard. “You thought she had

  something to do with that, too? That's crazy—besides

  she was at the party with us.”

  Then, before Nancy could frame a response, Lisa

  grumbled, “Next thing you'll tell me is that I'm a

  suspect, too.”

  7. Not So Candid Camera

  “Lisa, I never said you were a suspect!” Nancy cried,

  truly dismayed. Could the girl read minds or what?

  Sure, she couldn't rule Lisa out, but Lisa wasn't high

  on Nancy's suspect list.

  “No, you didn't,” Lisa admitted. Pushing her hair off

  her face, she regarded Nancy with a hurt look. “But it

  sort of makes me uncomfortable knowing you're

  investigating everyone at Old Can Be Gold. We're all

  friends and colleagues.”

  Nancy hurried to reassure Lisa. “I'm just trying to do

  my job, and I have to ask lots of questions. Sometimes,”

  Nancy added gently, “that makes people uncomfortable.”

  Embarrassed, Lisa laughed. “I guess so. Criminal

  investigations are pretty new to me.”

  When she reached the university, Nancy parked in

  the area at the back of the gym cordoned off for Old

  Can Be Gold employees. The rear of the building was

  equipped with freight loading docks. A corrugated

  metal gate was up, revealing the cargo area.

  As they climbed out of the car, the wind scuttled

  leaves across storm puddles from the day before. “Is

  this where they bring the larger pieces into the show?”

  Nancy asked.

  “Exactly,” Lisa replied. “We can go in this way, with

  my employee pass.”

  The two girls jogged up the short flight of concrete

  steps leading to the loading dock. Large wooden crates,

  sturdy moving boxes, and some intriguing-looking

  trunks with Old Can Be Gold lettering on the sides

  were haphazardly stashed around the area.

  Lisa made her way through the forest of containers

  and stopped at the security desk. The guard scrutinized

  Lisa's ID, then let her in. At least security on the back

  end of the show is pretty tight, Nancy thought.

  “I can see why nothing goes missing from the shows

  themselves,” Nancy said as Lisa led the way through a

  large room that was functioning as a warehouse. “Tell

  me,” Nancy asked as they headed into a hall, “have any

  of the burgled items been large—like pieces of

  furniture or paintings?”

  “I honestly don't know the details of the burglaries,

  though I did overhear about the latest one, in Seattle.

  A woman's collection of art deco jewelry went missing.

  That's pretty portable.”

  When Nancy and Lisa reached the main appraisal

  area, they were greeted by the pleasant but loud

  hubbub of the crowd. “Mr. Landowski wants me to

  work behind one of those large triage tables by the

  entrance, so I'll leave you now,” Lisa said. “When did

  you say Ned was coming around?”

  “Ned!” Nancy exclaimed. “In all the commotion I

  practically forgot we're meeting here later. Probably

  not until four or so, depending on how his friend's

  move goes. I told him to look for us at the food court.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Lisa said. “But wait for me, in

  case I get tied up.” As she left, Lisa called over her

  shoulder. “And don't forget, Ned's welcome to come to

  Jason's party.”

  A few minutes later Nancy found George on the

  edge of a small crowd looking with interest at a pair of

  infant-size moccasins. An appraiser was talking about

  the unusual beadwork. Midway through the little

  lecture George caught Nancy's eye and motioned

  Nancy aside.

  “Those were beautiful,” Nancy remarked as they

  moved out of earshot. “Did you guys turn anything up?

  And where's Bess?”

  George chuckled. “Bess is in love. She latched on to

  Jason Woodard the minute she spotted him. To find

  Bess, look for Jason. But as for turning up any clues

  regarding my missing tape recorder . . .” George made

  a thumbs-down sign. “I canvassed this whole place.

  There aren't many pop-culture people at this show.

  They all seemed to know all about the tape, thanks to

  that creepo Wes Clarke.”

  “Did they know about the robbery?” Nancy asked.

  George shook her head vigorously. “Didn't seem

  that way. They seemed to know only that a tape exists.

  One music specialist told a client that he heard that a

  valuable seventies blues/rock tape was about to come

  on the market, and he sent the client over to Wes. So

  then I kind of snooped at a table behind Wes's. Sure

  enough, Wes was bragging about how he could put his

  hands on a really rare Mama's Bad Boys tape, for a

  price.”

  Nancy grew thoughtful. “I can't say I like Wes,

  George, but that's not proof he knows that the tape was

  stolen or where it is now. He'll probably make you an

  offer as soon as he hears you've had it appraised. But

  just in case he does know about the burglary and is

  involved, I'll feel him out now.” Nancy turned to go,

  but George stopped her.

  “Look, Nan, there's Bess!”

  Bess was posing jauntily beside an antique cigar

  store wooden Indian while Jason snapped her picture.

  As soon as the shutter clicked, Bess waved Nancy over.

  She looked particularly pretty, with her cheeks glowing

  and her baby blue eyes bright.

  “She's head-over-heels already,” George murmured.

  “More like Jason's been nabbed,” Nancy whispered

  as they approached.

  “Hi, guys, look who I found!” Bess hooked her arm

  through Jason's. He patted h
er hand, then extricated

  himself and went to talk to a heavyset mustached man.

  “If you want, I can send you a picture of your statue

  after the show closes,” Jason said as he handed the man

  his card.

  “Are you sure you can't have it here tomorrow?” the

  man asked, wistfully looking at the wooden statue. “I

  do have a buyer in mind, and he might pick it up at my

  house on Monday. I'd like to have the photo in hand

  before I sell the piece. It's been in my family for

  several generations.”

  Jason made a face. “I won't have time to process this

  roll by the time you leave, but if you give me your

  home address and phone number, I'll overnight it to

  you on Monday. You'll have it Tuesday first thing.”

  “It's a deal!” The man wrote Jason a check to cover

  the cost of the photo, then gave him a card with his

  address.

  “I should get a picture, too.” Bess pouted prettily.

  Jason laughed and hooked her hand back through

  his arm. “It's a deal. I'll leave it with Lisa. She's in

  touch with you guys, right? And she told me she's going

  back to River Heights next weekend.”

  When Jason didn't ask for Bess's address, her face

  momentarily registered disappointment.

  “Uh, George, sorry to hear about your missing tape,”

  Jason said abruptly.

  “How did you find out about—” George started to

  say, then shot a scathing glance at Bess, who just

  smiled back.

  “Come off it, guys,” she said. “You can't be worried

  about Jason. Since he makes the rounds of all the

  appraisers he might hear gossip and help us.”

  “I had no idea you were a detective,” Jason said,

  carefully appraising Nancy. “So Landowski is going to

  let you work for him?”

  Nancy sighed, then returned Jason's smile. “I guess

  he is.”

  “Good,” Jason said. “New blood will help get to the

  bottom of all those burglaries. The cops sure have hit a

  dead end.”

  “You know about the burglaries—I mean besides

  last night's?” Nancy was surprised. Jason was not a staff

  employee of Old Can Be Gold.

  Jason rolled his eyes. “Of course I know. It's sup-

  posed to be top secret, but word gets around. Anyway,

  good luck,” he wished Nancy as his name was called

  over the P.A. system. “See you tonight. Don't forget

  the party.”