Trash or Treasure?

  Contents

  Chapter 1: The Ballerina Painting

  Chapter 2: Missing!

  Chapter 3: A Mysterious Package

  Chapter 4: The Plot Thickens

  Chapter 5: The List of Suspects

  Chapter 6: A Scary Noise

  Chapter 7: A Sticky Clue

  Chapter 8: Case Closed!

  1

  The Ballerina Painting

  This is really cool!” eight-year-old Nancy Drew said. She held up a long, skinny lamp filled with red and orange goo.

  “I think it’s kind of gross,” Nancy’s best friend Bess Marvin said, wrinkling her nose. “What is that stuff in there?”

  George Fayne, Bess’s cousin and Nancy’s other best friend, laughed. “I don’t know, but you’d better not let the customers hear you calling it gross, or no one will buy it,” she said.

  Nancy, Bess, and George were helping out at a weekend-long garage sale. A bunch of families in Nancy’s neighborhood had organized it, and it was being held at the Ramirezes’ house. Rebecca Ramirez was a friend of Nancy’s, but she was in a different third-grade class at Carl Sandburg Elementary School.

  It was an hour before the sale was set to start, and the Ramirezes’ garage and driveway were hopping with activity. Neighbors kept coming by with boxes of stuff to sell. Nancy, Bess, and George were taking all the items out of the boxes and arranging them on card tables. Rebecca’s brother, Todd, who was twelve years old, was helping a neighbor unload some used furniture from a pickup truck.

  “We have to keep track of who’s selling what,” Mrs. Ramirez told Rebecca. The two of them were sticking price tags on everything.

  Mrs. Ramirez pointed to the goo-filled lamp Nancy was holding. “For example, the Hilliards are selling this lava lamp.”

  “Lava? You mean, like the stuff that comes out of volcanoes?” Bess said, her blue eyes wide.

  “It’s not real lava, Bess,” Mrs. Ramirez said with a smile. She glanced down at her clipboard, and then up at Rebecca. “On this list, the Hilliards are number twelve. So you need to write ‘number twelve’ on the price tag. And as far as the price goes . . . let’s see, how about five dollars?”

  “Sure,” Rebecca said. She uncapped her purple magic marker and picked up a sheet of small white stickers. She wrote: “#12/$5.” Then she peeled off the sticker and stuck it to the base of the lamp. “Piece of cake!”

  George pulled an old leather baseball glove out of one of the boxes. “I’m selling this. What number am I?”

  Rebecca peered at her mother’s clipboard. “You’re number five, George. How much do you want to sell it for?”

  “How about two dollars?” George suggested. Rebecca nodded and wrote “#5/$2” on one of the stickers.

  All the girls were selling things they had outgrown. Nancy was selling a parka that was too small. Bess was selling a doll she no longer played with and half a dozen CD’s she no longer listened to. Rebecca was selling her Halloween costumes from last year and the year before. And in addition to her baseball glove, George was selling her old toy kitchen, which had been sitting in her family’s basement for a long time.

  Nancy reached into another box and pulled out a pen that was lying in a dusty candy dish. It wasn’t like the ball-point pens she had at home. It was pretty and gold-colored and engraved with the initial N.

  “N for Nancy!” she said to her friends. “I’m going to buy this later, if I make money from my parka. I can write in my blue notebook with it.” Nancy was the best detective at her school, and she liked to solve mysteries. Her dad had given her a special notebook with a shiny blue cover in which to write her clues.

  “I’ve already decided what I’m going to buy,” Rebecca said. She picked up a necklace that was lying on the card table and held it up to her neck. It was made of pink glass beads that shone in the light. “Isn’t it totally awesome? It’s my favorite color!”

  “I’m trying to decide between a bunch of comic books and this cool old game called Train Robbery,” George said.

  Bess frowned and glanced around. “What am I going to buy?”

  Rebecca pointed to a box of vintage hats. There was a black one with feathers, a red one with satin ribbons, and even one covered with plastic flowers and fruit. “How about one of those hats? They’re really cool.”

  Bess shook her head, which made her blond ponytail bounce back and forth. “I don’t know. I’m not in a hat mood today.” And then her eyes lit up. “There it is—that’s what I want to buy!”

  She pointed to a painting that was propped against the leg of a gray card table. Painted on canvas, it was a picture of a young ballerina in a white tutu with tiny white flowers on it. She was standing on pointe, with her arms stretched gracefully to one side.

  Bess bent down in front of the painting. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she said breathlessly. “It would be perfect for my room.”

  Mrs. Ramirez peeked at her clipboard. “The seller asked that we put ten dollars on that painting.” She scribbled “#23/$10” on a sticker and stuck it to the back of the canvas.

  “Ten dollars!” Bess groaned. “That’s too much money! I bought a new CD at the mall yesterday, and I only have two dollars left from my allowance.”

  “Maybe you’ll have enough money after you sell your old CD’s and your doll,” Nancy said helpfully.

  Bess looked doubtful. “I guess. I just hope no one buys the painting before my stuff sells.”

  Mrs. Ramirez tapped on her watch. “Speaking of which—the sale starts in half an hour. We’d better get back to work, girls. The customers will be here soon.”

  The five of them continued to unpack boxes and stick price tags on all the merchandise. It was an unusually warm day for April, and as they worked, Nancy got hot and thirsty—and a little hungry, too. She was glad Mrs. Ramirez had set up a table with juice and blueberry muffins for the volunteers.

  At eight-thirty, customers started to show up. Nancy didn’t recognize any of them at first. There was a tall, dark-haired man wearing a suit and bow tie. There was a couple with a cute little baby. And there was a short, red-haired woman dressed in a paint-spattered sundress. They were wandering through the yard and the driveway, picking stuff up and inspecting it.

  “I guess no one paid attention to the part of the ad that said, ‘No Early Birds,’” Mrs. Ramirez said with a sigh.

  “Early birds?” George repeated.

  “It’s a standard rule with garage sales. Sometimes people show up before the sale officially starts to try to buy the good stuff before everyone else. They’re called early birds.” Mrs. Ramirez shrugged. “I suppose it can’t hurt to let these people look around—but no one buys anything before nine o’clock sharp, okay?”

  “Okay,” Rebecca said, nodding. “Hey, speaking of early birds . . .”

  Nancy followed Rebecca’s gaze. Brenda Carlton and Alison Wegman were coming up the driveway. Brenda and Alison went to Carl Sandburg Elementary School, too. Brenda had her own newspaper, the Carlton News, which her dad helped her do on the computer. Alison was Brenda’s best friend.

  “Looks like a bunch of junk to me,” Brenda said to Alison, glancing around. Then she pointed to Bess’s ballerina painting. “Except for that,” she added.

  “It is kind of cool,” Alison agreed.

  “It’s super cool,” Brenda said. She walked up to the painting and picked it up. “Wouldn’t it look great in my bedroom?”

  Nancy noticed that Bess had stopped unpacking boxes and was listening intently to Brenda and Alison’s conversation.

  “Sure,” Alison said to Brenda. “How much is it?”

  Brenda peered at the price tag. “Ten dollars.” She put the painting down, reached into her jeans pocket, and fished out a ten-
dollar bill. “Hey, that’s exactly what I’ve got. Hmm, maybe I’ll buy it.”

  Bess rushed up to Nancy and grabbed her arm. “Brenda wants my painting,” she whispered. “There’s no way I’m going to get it now!”

  2

  Missing!

  Rebecca put down her stickers and purple marking pen. Then she strolled over to Brenda and Alison. She, too, had been listening to their conversation about the ballerina painting.

  “Brenda, Alison, hi!” Rebecca said with a big smile. “Did you find anything to buy yet?”

  “Brenda’s maybe going to buy this painting for her room,” Alison said. “I haven’t found anything yet.”

  Nancy and Bess moved a little closer so they could hear what the three girls were talking about. Nancy could tell that Rebecca was up to something, but she wasn’t sure what.

  Rebecca leaned toward Alison and lowered her voice ever so slightly. Rebecca wanted to be an actress when she grew up, and she was good at being dramatic about things.

  “This is just between us, okay?” she said to Alison. “We just got a box of the most awesome jewelry from this lady down the street. No one’s seen it but my mom and me. But—” Rebecca paused and glanced around, as if to make sure no one was listening. Then she wiggled her eyebrows at Alison. “—I could give you a special sneak preview, if you want.”

  Brenda frowned. “What about me? Don’t I get a sneak preview, too?”

  “But I thought you were going to buy the painting,” Rebecca said innocently.

  “I haven’t decided for sure. Come on, let’s see this jewelry.” Brenda tossed her head and gestured for Rebecca to lead the way.

  “Whew, that was close,” Nancy said as Rebecca, Brenda, and Alison headed in the direction of the Ramirezes’ garage. “If you’re lucky, maybe Rebecca can talk Brenda into buying a necklace or something instead of the painting.”

  “Or maybe not,” Bess said glumly. “I don’t know, Nancy. I just have to figure out a way to get enough money to buy the painting before Brenda or anyone else.”

  “Oh, it’s sublime! It’s stunning! I must have it!”

  Nancy and Bess turned around. It was the short, red-haired woman in the paint-spattered sundress. She was gazing intently at the ballerina painting and talking excitedly to no one in particular.

  “You mean that?” Bess pointed to the painting.

  “Yes. Look at the colors, the composition!” The woman began waving her hands. “They’re inspired!”

  “Are you an artist?” Bess asked the woman.

  The woman nodded. “Luna Lamotte. I have a studio a couple of blocks away. My specialty is collages.”

  “We made collages at our school last week,” Nancy said. “We cut up a bunch of pictures from magazines and glued them onto paper.”

  “That’s like what I do. Except that I cut up other people’s paintings, glue the pieces onto a canvas, and then kind of paint over them a little.” Luna knelt down in front of the ballerina painting. “You see, this would be perfect for a new collage I’m working on.”

  Bess’s jaw dropped. “Y-you want to cut this painting up into t-tiny little pieces?”

  Just then a man walked up to the three of them. Nancy recognized him as one of the first early birds. He was the man in the suit and bow tie.

  “Jamison Morris, at your service,” he said. “I’m sure you all know who I am. I write the antiques column for the newspaper. The column is called ‘Trash or Treasure?’” He turned to Luna. “Young lady, I wouldn’t waste my time on that painting if I were you.”

  Luna stood up. She looked confused. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s clearly the work of a Sunday painter—an amateur. The brushstrokes are inferior, and the colors are all wrong.” Mr. Morris nodded in the direction of the garage. “Now, over there I saw a magnificent oil of the Greek goddess Athena. A far superior painting, in my opinion.”

  “Oh, I must have missed that one. I’ll have to take a look.” Luna smiled at Mr. Morris. “Thank you for the tip!” She headed toward the garage.

  “Nancy! Bess!” Mrs. Ramirez yelled. She and George were moving some boxes from the front porch to the driveway. “Could you help us over here?”

  “Sure, Mrs. Ramirez,” Nancy yelled back.

  On their way to the porch, Nancy and Bess passed Karen Koombs, who was checking out the lava lamp. Karen was in the fourth grade at Carl Sandburg Elementary.

  “Hi, Karen,” Nancy called out.

  “Oh, hi.” Karen pointed to the lava lamp. “I thought this might look cool in my room. My mom and dad are letting me redecorate it with a ‘60s theme.”

  “A ‘60s theme—that sounds awesome,” Bess said.

  Karen’s gaze drifted past the two girls. “I saw you looking at that ballerina painting, Bess. Are you going to buy it or something?”

  Bess made a face. “I really, really want to, but I have to raise the money first. And a bunch of other people are interested in it, too.”

  “That’s too bad,” Karen said.

  Nancy and Bess said goodbye to Karen and joined Mrs. Ramirez and George on the porch. As Nancy began moving boxes, she glanced around the yard. More early birds had arrived, and the place was bustling.

  Then Nancy noticed that Mr. Morris was still standing at the gray card table where the ballerina painting was. He had picked the painting up and was looking at it very intently.

  That’s funny, Nancy thought. I thought he said he didn’t like it.

  • • •

  “I could go home and ask for an advance on my allowance,” Bess said to Nancy. “Except I already asked for an advance on my allowance last week, so my mom and dad would probably say no.”

  It was ten minutes till nine, and Bess and Nancy were doing some last-minute tasks for Mrs. Ramirez in the garage. Bess was still trying to figure out how she could get the ballerina painting before Brenda or Luna Lamotte or anyone else.

  Looking around, Nancy was amazed at how tidy the Ramirezes’ garage was. Usually, it was piled floor-to-ceiling with stuff and covered with dust and cobwebs, too. Now it was shiny and clean, with lots of merchandise organized neatly on card tables.

  Nancy stuck a price tag on a pretty blue vase with pink polka dots on it. “I know,” she said to Bess. “Why don’t we ask Mrs. Ramirez if she can set the ballerina painting aside for you until your doll and your CD’s sell?”

  Bess sighed. “I already asked her that. She said that wouldn’t be fair to the family that’s selling the painting. I mean, if my stuff doesn’t sell and I can’t buy the painting, then the family might not get their money.”

  “That’s true,” Nancy said. She reached into her pocket. All she had was a dollar. “You have two dollars, and I have one. Even if I gave you this, we’d still need seven more—”

  “Nancy! Bess!” George came running up to them. “Did you guys move it?”

  “Move what? What are you talking about?” Nancy asked her.

  “The ballerina painting,” George replied breathlessly. “It’s gone!”

  3

  A Mysterious Package

  Gone! What are you talking about?” Bess cried out.

  “It’s gone,” George replied. “It was over there, and now it’s not.”

  Nancy, Bess, and George rushed over to the gray card table. George was right. The painting was no longer there.

  “Maybe someone moved it,” Nancy suggested.

  “Come on, let’s look around,” Bess said.

  The three girls spent the next few minutes combing the yard. They looked on top of tables and under tables. They looked inside boxes. They looked behind other paintings. But the ballerina was nowhere to be found.

  The Ramirezes’ yard was really crowded with customers now.

  Nancy peeked at someone’s watch. It was two minutes before nine o’clock, just about time for the garage sale to start.

  Mrs. Ramirez came by just then. She had her clipboard in one hand and a metal cash box in the other. “Girls, we need
to take our places,” she said, sounding a little flustered. “Bess and George, I need you over on the porch to take cash from our customers and make out receipts. Nancy, why don’t you and Rebecca roam around and answer any questions people might have.”

  “Okay,” Nancy said. “Oh, Mrs. Ramirez? Did you move that ballerina painting Bess wanted to buy?”

  Mrs. Ramirez frowned. “Move it? No, of course not.” A woman passed by just then, and Mrs. Ramirez rushed toward her. “Ellie! Oh, Ellie! I wanted to talk to you about that box of encyclopedias you dropped off.”

  Bess turned to Nancy, looking troubled. “If Mrs. Ramirez didn’t move the painting, then what could have happened to it?”

  “Maybe someone stole it,” George suggested.

  “Stole it!” Bess exclaimed.

  “We’d better get to work,” Nancy said quickly. “Rebecca and I will keep looking for the painting while we’re walking around, okay?”

  “Okay, I guess,” Bess said with a heavy sigh. “I hope you guys find it. I really love that painting.”

  • • •

  Nancy found Rebecca arranging a bunch of old books on a card table. She told her about the missing painting.

  “Your mom wants us to walk around and answer questions and stuff,” Nancy finished. “I thought we could look for the painting while we were doing that.”

  “Let’s split up,” Rebecca suggested. “Isn’t that what detectives do when they, um, detect?”

  Nancy giggled. “Yeah, I guess. Why don’t you take the driveway and garage, and I’ll take the front yard?”

  Nancy took her time walking around the Ramirezes’ yard. She went through all the cardboard boxes that she, Bess, and George had missed the first time around. She looked underneath a pile of pretty antique quilts. She rooted through a bunch of old velvet and lace dresses that were hanging up. She checked out all the customers, to see if any of them was carrying the painting. But no one was.

  “Hey, Nancy!”

  Nancy turned around. Brenda was standing there. She was holding a couple of CD’s in one hand and a butterfly-shaped rhinestone pin in the other.