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.
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.”