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
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