149 The Clue Of The Gold Doubloons Page 7

  “What about dinner?” Nancy pressed. “You must

  have eaten at a restaurant. Did you get a—?”

  “Excuse me, Ms. Drew,” Weller cut in. “I'm

  interviewing your friend. If you break in again, you'll

  have to wait out in the hall.”

  “I'm sorry.” Folding her arms against her chest,

  Nancy crossed to the other side of the room.

  “We didn't eat in a restaurant. Daniel brought a

  picnic dinner. He just got some stuff at Harborplace.”

  George gave Nancy an uneasy look. Nancy smiled

  reassuringly at her friend, though inside she was

  worried. So far, George had nothing to prove where

  the two had been during the time of the robbery.

  “Where did you walk? Where did you eat?” Weller

  asked.

  “Uhh . . . I don't know,” George replied in a small

  voice. “We were just kind of exploring the harbor. We

  sat by some boats docked on a wharf.”

  “Did anyone see you?”

  George shrugged. “Lots of people, but they were all

  sight-seers, too.”

  Weller glanced up from his pad. “So you have no

  one to confirm where you were all night?”

  “Of course I do. Daniel was with me,” George said.

  “Uh-huh, the infamous Calico Jack.” Weller nodded

  as he wrote.

  Frowning, George stood up. “Nancy, what is going

  on? Why am I being interrogated?”

  Nancy's gaze darted to Weller. “You need to tell

  her.”

  “We have reason to believe that you and your friend

  Mr. Wagner were involved in a hotel burglary tonight.”

  “What!” George blurted. “That's insane.”

  “That's what I told him,” Nancy said. “We'll get this

  cleared up. Don't worry.”

  “Ms. Drew,” Weller said as he put his pad away.

  “May I have your permission to look around?”

  Nancy knew what he was hunting for. “Yes, we have

  nothing to hide. And if George says that's where she

  and Daniel were tonight, then that's exactly where they

  were.”

  Nancy could tell Weller wasn't listening. He was

  wandering around, opening drawers and suitcases.

  When he went into the bathroom, Nancy quickly told

  George about the videotape.

  Her friend's eyes grew huge. “They think Daniel and

  I robbed the penthouse suite?” she exclaimed in a low

  voice. “If the police weren't acting so serious, I'd burst

  out laughing.”

  When Weller came out, Nancy asked, “Find

  anything?”

  Without replying, he crouched beside the bed

  nearer the bathroom and pulled up the bedspread.

  Ducking, he peered underneath.

  “Hmm.” He sat back on his heels and drew a latex

  glove from his jacket pocket. Nancy caught her breath.

  Had he found something?

  After slipping on the glove, he reached under the

  bed and pulled out several articles of clothing.

  Nancy's heart sank when she saw them. They were

  the Anne Bonny and Calico Jack costumes. She strode

  over to the bed. “I don't understand how those got

  there.”

  “So you recognize them,” Weller said. Standing up,

  he directed a stern gaze at George, who stood frozen at

  the end of the bed.

  Nancy grabbed his arm. “Wait, you can't possibly

  think George had anything to do with the burglary!”

  “Oh, but I do. The evidence points right to your

  friend, I'm afraid.” Reaching behind him, Weller

  pulled his handcuffs from his belt pouch. “George

  Fayne, you're under arrest for the hotel burglaries.”

  8. A Close Shave

  “You can't arrest George. She and Daniel have been set

  up!” Nancy protested to Detective Weller. “If the

  burglar has a master key card, he or she could have

  sneaked into our room and put the costumes under the

  bed. Neither of us has been here all night.”

  “Put your hands in front of you, Ms. Fayne,” Weller

  said, holding up the handcuffs.

  “Nancy, tell him there's no way I could have

  burglarized those rooms.” George's face had turned

  pale.

  “I already have,” Nancy said. “He knows he's making

  a big mistake.”

  “I have no choice,” Weller told them. “The evidence

  is stacked against your friend.” Taking hold of George's

  arm, he snapped the cuffs around her right wrist, then

  her left wrist.

  “Officer Reaves,” he barked. “Escort these ladies to

  my office and start processing Ms. Fayne. I want

  fingerprints, photos, the works. I'm going to pick up

  Mr. Wagner.”

  “Nancy,” George whispered in a frightened voice as

  Officer Reaves came into the hotel room. “This can't

  be happening.”

  Nancy squeezed her friend's shoulder. “Don't worry.

  I'll get you out of this,” she said, trying to sound more

  confident than she felt.

  The videotape and the stashed costumes were very

  incriminating, Nancy realized. She knew she'd have to

  do some fast investigating to prove that George was

  innocent.

  Nancy shifted in the chair at the police station,

  trying to get comfortable. It was six o'clock on

  Wednesday morning, and she'd been dozing on and off

  since George had been brought in. About half an hour

  after they'd arrived, Daniel had been escorted into the

  station by two police officers. Before he even saw

  Nancy, he'd been whisked into a separate office for

  interviewing.

  Sitting up, Nancy rubbed the crick in her neck. She

  hadn't spoken to anyone since George had been

  arrested. Obviously, Weller was avoiding her.

  Whenever he saw her, he headed in the opposite

  direction.

  Earlier, Nancy had called her father, Carson Drew,

  who said he'd take the first plane to Baltimore if

  George needed him. Nancy thanked him, but told him

  that first she wanted to find out for sure if George had

  been charged with a crime.

  “Ms. Drew?” Detective Weller came down the hall,

  a coffee mug in his hand. He'd taken off his jacket,

  loosened his tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his now-

  wrinkled shirt. When he drew closer, Nancy noticed

  how bloodshot his eyes were.

  She straightened in her seat. “Are you finally going

  to tell me what's going on?”

  “Your friends are being released. We didn't charge

  them with anything.”

  “Thank goodness.” Relieved, Nancy sank back in the

  chair for a second before asking, “What made you

  change your mind?”

  “We lifted a fingerprint from the penthouse suite

  that matched a print belonging to Chance Curran, a cat

  burglar who has committed a string of robberies up

  and down the East Coast in the past two years.”

  “A cat burglar? And you don't suspect George and

  Daniel at all?” Nancy asked.

  “Curran has been known to work with a female

  accomplice, but since none of the prints we found in

&nbs
p; the suite match either one of your friends', we're

  letting them go.”

  “So George and Daniel were set up, just as I said,”

  Nancy told him.

  Weller shrugged. “We don't know for sure. The

  thieves could have been wearing gloves, and Curran

  left a print by accident.”

  “If you have prints on this Curran guy, why hasn't he

  been picked up?” Nancy asked.

  Weller rubbed the bridge of his nose with two

  fingers as if he had a headache. “The prints are from

  Curran's first arrest. Since he had no prior record—not

  even a parking ticket—he didn't serve any jail time. He

  was put on probation for a year, during which time he

  stayed clean—at least we think he stayed clean. That's

  the last time he was ever caught.”

  “How do you know he's behind the other thefts?”

  Nancy asked.

  “Fingerprints. It seems he always leaves one behind.

  Like a calling card to taunt us.”

  “Then why haven't you caught him?”

  “This is the first time he's hit Baltimore,” Weller

  said quickly. “He's a master of disguise—he changes

  his looks and identity every place he goes. He's also

  smart. He cases out a place carefully—somehow

  blending in so no one suspects him. His first heist was

  at a ski resort in Vermont. Two months later, he hit a

  New York City hotel. Before he came to Baltimore, he

  burglarized a casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey. He's

  quick to get in and out, another reason the police

  haven't caught up with him.”

  “Sounds like he's working his way down the East

  Coast,” Nancy said, then she tapped her lip with one

  finger. “One thing is different about the Baltimore

  burglaries. This time he hit the Harborside Hotel

  twice.”

  “Very observant, Ms. Drew. He's either getting bold

  or careless.”

  A rush of anger filled Nancy as she realized why

  Chance Curran had changed his MO—his method of

  operation. “I'd say he's feeling bold because somehow

  he was able to pin the blame on George and Daniel,

  am I right?”

  “That's what we think.” Weller took a sip of his

  coffee, then sat down wearily in the chair next to

  Nancy's. “Which brings me to you, Ms. Drew. We need

  your help.”

  Nancy already had an idea what the detective

  wanted her to do. “You think that Chance Curran is

  connected to the ship and the film.”

  “Correct. The doubloons and costumes could only

  have been taken by someone with access to all the

  areas of the ship.”

  “Plus, the person had to know what George and

  Daniel were wearing,” Nancy added. “What do you

  want me to do?”

  “We want you to get some fingerprints for us,”

  Weller explained. “If the lab techs even go near the

  ship, Curran's going to run. We've asked George and

  Daniel to pretend they're still under investigation.

  We're hoping Curran's going to be so cocky, he'll stick

  around, maybe even make a mistake.”

  “He's already made a big mistake.” Nancy stood

  abruptly, all her fatigue gone. “He framed two of my

  friends. If Curran's on that ship, I'll find him.”

  “Take one, scene four,” Nancy announced as she

  snapped the slate in front of the camera. It was nine

  o'clock the same morning. George had gone back to

  the room to shower and sleep. Even though Nancy was

  exhausted, she'd forced herself to come onboard for

  the morning's shoot.

  She was glad she had. Already she'd collected a

  coffee cup with Harold's prints and a pen with

  Andrew's. She carefully placed the objects in paper

  evidence bags and stashed them in a small backpack

  she'd borrowed from George. Then she'd stowed the

  backpack in the dressing room. Now, if she could only

  get Eli's and Karl's . . .

  “Action!” Andrew called from his stool. He sat

  beside Lian, who was operating the camera.

  Blackbeard strode across the deck to the ship's

  wheel. He was dressed in black hat, black cape, and

  high black boots. A gray cloud billowed from under his

  broad-brimmed hat.

  Nancy had read all about Blackbeard and his fierce

  appearance. Before attacking an enemy ship, he would

  light cannon wicks and stick them under his hatband.

  Holding pistols in both hands, he would leap onto the

  enemy ship, roaring loudly. The effect usually sent the

  enemy running.

  For safety's sake, Eli had placed dry ice in Karl

  Kidd's hatband instead of real wicks. With his bristly

  beard, bushy brows, and nasty scowl, Kidd could have

  passed for the real Blackbeard.

  Nancy tried to picture Karl in Calico Jack's costume.

  Karl was larger than Daniel, but the baggy clothes

  would still have fit. And since his face had been

  shadowed by the hat, Nancy hadn't been able to tell if

  the person in the video had a beard.

  Her eyes strayed to Janie, who was adjusting an

  extra's sailor costume. Nancy hadn't gotten a chance to

  ask Janie where she and Karl had been going the night

  of the burglary. Were the two rushing from the hotel

  after committing the burglary? Nancy thought it was a

  distinct possibility.

  “Raise the Jolly Roger!” Blackbeard thundered,

  drawing Nancy's attention back to the set. “Prepare to

  board! Take no prisoners!” he bellowed to an imaginary

  group of sailors as he leaped on top of a cannon,

  brandishing his two pistols.

  To the left of Blackbeard, Harold Oates raised a

  reflective shield, focusing the light on Karl's face.

  Nancy knew that even when they filmed during the

  day, they needed extra light to make sure the actors'

  faces weren't in shadow.

  Nancy took the opportunity to study Harold—who

  also didn't have an alibi for the night of the burglary,

  Nancy thought. Harold was thinner than Daniel, but

  the bulky costume would have disguised his shape.

  Then there was Eli, who was passing out swords and

  muskets for the boarding scene. Five-foot-eight with

  skinny arms, Eli was hardly the daring cat burglar type.

  Still, Detective Weller had said Curran made it a point

  to blend in so no one noticed him. That described both

  crew members well.

  Nancy's thoughts drifted to Andrew, who was

  showing Lian where to move the camera for a second

  take. He hadn't been overly concerned when she'd told

  him about Daniel being arrested. In fact, all he'd said

  was “I hope he's here when Good Morning Baltimore

  shows up.”

  So much for brotherly love, Nancy thought. Or was

  Andrew really Chance Curran, and his plan all along

  was for suspicion to be thrown onto his brother? Nancy

  already knew he needed money and publicity for the

  film. The thefts had accomplished both. The question

  was, would Andrew sacrifice his brother for a movie?

&nb
sp; Nancy hugged the slate, her thoughts in turmoil. No

  one seemed to fit the role of cat burglar. But then if

  Curran was clever enough to frame George and

  Daniel, he was clever enough to keep his identity a

  secret.

  “Nancy!” someone called.

  Startled, she jerked her head around. Everybody

  was looking at her. “What?”

  “Are we interrupting an exciting daydream?”

  Andrew teased.

  She flushed. “No. I just didn't get any sleep last

  night, and I guess I'm spacing out.”

  Janie bustled over, a concerned look on her face.

  “Andrew, let her go back to the hotel and take a nap.”

  “All right,” Andrew agreed. “Go get some shut-eye.

  But you and George be back here this afternoon at two

  for the Good Morning Baltimore team,” he added,

  pointing a pen in her direction.

  “Fine.” Nancy handed Janie the slate, then hurried

  from the quarterdeck. This would be the perfect

  opportunity to get something with Karl's prints on it,

  she thought. If only she could find an object he

  wouldn't miss.

  She glanced at her watch before jumping down the

  steps into steerage. Almost ten. If she hurried, she

  could get a few hours of sleep.

  When she reached the dressing room, Nancy went

  straight to the pegs on the wall where Karl had hung

  his street clothes that morning. She lifted his shirt off

  the peg. His buttons might have a partial print, but he

  was bound to notice if his shirt was missing.

  Next she checked his jeans, rifling the pockets,

  hoping to find spare change, a comb, anything that

  might hold a print. They were empty.

  Nancy blew out a frustrated breath. Her gaze landed

  on his belt. Of course! The metal buckle would be a

  perfect place to find a print.

  Careful not to touch the buckle, Nancy began to pull

  the belt from the loops. The squeak of a floorboard

  made her glance over her shoulder.

  Karl Kidd filled the dressing room doorway, a

  murderous expression on his face. Without a word, he

  raised his hand and hurled a dagger straight at Nancy's

  head!

  9. A Fishy Assailant

  Nancy ducked. The dagger whistled over her head,

  whacking into the ship wall.

  “What was that for!” Nancy yelled at Karl, her arms

  rigid by her sides. “You could've killed me!”

  Throwing back his head, he burst out laughing.

  “You're right, I could have, but I didn't.”