As soon as Jason had left, George turned on Bess.
“How could you, Bess? No one's supposed to know
Nancy's on this case, and we definitely were keeping
last night's burglary under wraps.”
“Come off it, George. It's no big deal,” Bess
protested. “It's not like Jason's a suspect or anything.”
“You can't rule him out,” George fumed.
Bess giggled. “Of course you can. He was at the
party with us last night during the break-in.”
“So was Lisa,” Nancy said. “I haven't ruled her out,
either.”
Bess just gaped at Nancy. “You're kidding, right?”
Nancy shook her head. “I'm not. At this point
anyone with access to that apartment or to company
records is a suspect.”
Bess glared at Nancy. “Lisa is a friend of mine, and
you have no right to accuse her.”
Lowering her voice to just above a whisper, Nancy
explained, “I'm not accusing her of anything, but she
could have set up the thieves—though why, I'm not
sure.”
Bess blew out her breath. “Money,” she said re-
luctantly. “Remember Lisa mentioned what a break it
was that her aunt and uncle let her live in their condo
this year? Last night she told me that she almost had to
drop out of school this year. Her dad was laid off, and
now her parents don't have to pay rent, at least for this
semester.”
“So the tape recorder could be tempting,” Nancy
mused.
George didn't look convinced. “I think she was
genuinely surprised that it was stolen, Nancy.”
“And she had no way of knowing George was
bringing it to the show. Did she even have time to
contact anyone and tell them it would be in her
apartment last night?” Bess asked, sounding hopeful.
“That's been bothering me, too,” Nancy admitted,
though Lisa hadn't been with them between when
George's tape recorder was appraised and when they
all left together for the condo. Also, Nancy recalled,
she had lost track of Lisa at the party. Obviously she
couldn't have left the party, but she could have made a
call, either yesterday afternoon or last night, to an
accomplice or accomplices.
“Nancy, there you are!” a man's voice called out.
Nancy turned to see Eddie Landowski plunging
through the crowd toward her. His thin face was
creased with worry.
When he reached her side, he said in an urgent soft
voice, “We need to talk now! Alone!”
While George steered Bess toward a display of
porcelain figurines, Mr. Landowski took Nancy aside.
“It's happened again, this time in Denver,” he bleated
woefully. “A priceless Tiffany lamp is missing.”
8. A Thief in the House
“Someone is targeting our clients!” Mr. Landowski
exclaimed, clearly distraught. “We can't keep this
under wraps much longer. Once word gets out, Old
Can Be Gold will be dead in the water.”
“Did the police give you any details?” Nancy asked,
trying to divert his attention away from publicity
problems.
Landowski nodded. “Yes, but they told me the re-
port they just faxed to the office showed nothing un-
usual, except that this time there was a good deal of
vandalism to the owner's house.” He frowned. “Could
that mean this is a different gang of thieves?”
Nancy couldn't be sure, but she doubted it.
Checking out the police report might help, so she
asked if she could see it.
Landowski agreed readily. “I have to make a couple
of calls, though—quench the fires, so to speak,” he told
her.
“One more quick question,” Nancy said as he started
back toward his small temporary office. “Do you know
anyone who might want Old Can Be Gold to go out of
business? We've assumed the thieves are only
interested in stealing high-ticket items. Another motive
might be to hurt your organization.”
Mr. Landowski looked startled. “No one that I can
think of, but I suppose it could be a motive.”
Not the most likely one, Nancy mused as Mr.
bothered Nancy was the timing of the theft of George's
tape recorder. Why had it happened during the show
and not after the show had left town, and after George
had brought it back home? Was this burglary just a
coincidence and not connected to the others?
And without Lisa's help, how could anyone have
gotten into that apartment? Then a thought struck
Nancy. She hadn't talked either to the concierge or the
superintendent of the building. Nancy checked her
watch. It was too late to drive all the way back to the
condo and return in time to meet Ned. There was
enough time, though, to pay another visit to Wes
Clarke.
“What was that all about?” George asked, inter-
cepting her en route.
“Was there another burglary?” Bess piped up.
“That's what I just heard,” Lisa added, joining them.
“Word's out among the staff. It's a real bummer. That
couple with the lamp back in Denver were nice folks,
too.”
“You go on the road with the company?” This was
news to Nancy.
Lisa nodded. “Yes. This semester, as I told you, is all
work-study. I don't have any formal course work here,
though I have to write a couple of papers on my
experiences. I travel to most of the cities. Let's see . . .”
She paused to think, then ticked off the cities on her
fingers. “I was in Dubuque, Fargo, Boise, Seattle, and
then in Denver.”
“Doesn't give you much time to enjoy that condo,”
George remarked.
“Believe me, I'm here enough to have gotten used to
the luxury. And life on the road is fun, but I don't have
to do it long enough for it to get old. Now, take Jason—
he says he gets tired of the travel.”
“Jason travels with the show, too?” Bess asked.
“Sure. Not everywhere, although we were in Denver
and Seattle together—I guess it depends on his other
freelance assignments. I suspect that for all his playboy
image, Jason's a bit of a homebody. His hobby seems to
be decorating his loft. It's appeared in City Home
Design.”
Bess's eyes widened. “Are you serious?” When Lisa
nodded, Bess clasped her hands together and sighed. “I
cannot wait to see the loft.”
“Speaking of Jason's loft,” Lisa said, “it turns out I
can't go back home with you guys before Jason's party.”
She dug in her bag, pulled out an invitation, and
handed it to Nancy. “I have to stay here until closing
time. Ethan or someone will give me a ride. I'll meet
you guys there. Fortunately I have a change of clothes
here.”
“But we need to change,” Nancy pointed out,
wanting the opportunity to check out the condo, the
staff, and the apartment next door. “Can we go back
without you?”
“Sure,” Lisa said. “I'll have to give you the code after
I swore I'd never give it to anyone. For the record this
is a first.” She jotted the numbers on a piece of paper
and handed it to Nancy.
“I'll tear it up once we're inside,” Nancy promised
lightly, safely tucking the paper into her purse.
“See ya later.” Lisa waved goodbye.
“I'm starved,” Bess complained. “We missed lunch.
Can we eat while we wait for Ned?”
“I'm sort of famished, too,” George admitted.
Nancy was hungry, but she wanted to talk to Wes
Clarke before leaving the show. She also needed to
find Ethan to learn about seventies pop-culture col-
lectors. With luck she might also be able to psych out
his relationship with Inez. The young woman's
suspicious behavior at the office had sent up a red flag.
Was Inez's little scene with Ethan the night before
about something personal, or was it connected to the
missing tape and the burglaries?
“You guys head over to the food court,” Nancy told
Bess and George. “If Ned turns up early, tell him I'll
join you in ten or fifteen minutes.” Nancy checked her
watch, then took off for CrimeShoppers.
As Nancy approached CrimeShoppers, she saw
behind Wes's table. Jason caught her eye, winked, and
mouthed, “See you at the party!”
Nancy grinned back and continued toward
CrimeShoppers, where Wes was huddled next to
another man—a collector or potential customer, Nancy
figured. Gesturing animatedly as he talked, Wes had
his customer spellbound.
Nancy slowed her pace and quickly reconnoitered
the area. At the table next to Wes's, a small crowd was
bunched up close to an appraiser who was carefully
examining the bottom of a blue-and-white Chinese
vase. Positioning herself behind one of the onlookers
and out of Wes's line of sight, Nancy strained to
overhear his conversation.
The general din in the room drowned out all but a
few words. Nancy caught something about “could be
highly collectible” and a “record producer.” But before
she could hear more, the woman in front of her moved,
and Nancy found herself directly in front of Wes.
“Oh, hi!” he said, startled to see her. He quickly
shoved something under his counter. Before he did,
Nancy saw the object was a thin square cardboard
box—the kind that could hold a reel-to-reel tape. He
slapped his customer's shoulder. “Come back later,” he
told the man. “I might know more then. Meanwhile . .
.” Wes put his finger to his lips.
The man nodded. “Right. I know the rules, Wes.”
The man checked his watch and frowned. “I have to
leave now How about I come back tomorrow?”
“Fine, fine!” Wes said, giving a meaningful glance at
the shelf beneath the table. “I'll be here.”
As the man strolled away, Wes directed his attention
back to Nancy. “So,” he said, rubbing his hands
together, “you did come back.” He looked past Nancy
into the crowd. “Where are your friends?”
Nancy gave a casual shrug. “The food court, at the
moment.”
“What did your friend find out about her tape?” Wes
asked.
“Nothing yet,” Nancy said, dying to see what was in
the box Wes had stashed under his table. “Actually, I
was going to ask you what you came up with.”
“What do you mean?”
Nancy detected a defensive note in Wes's voice.
With a sweet smile she lifted a finger and made a
playfully scolding gesture. “You certainly have spread
the word that such a tape exists. By now I figured you
would have checked out its worth.”
“What makes you say that I spread the word?” Wes's
expression shifted. There was definitely a gleam of
respect in his small hazel eyes now. Nancy felt as if she
were his opponent in some kind of game, except Nancy
wasn't sure what the game was about. Was Wes daring
her to come right out and accuse him? Was Wes
involved with the ring of thieves targeting Old Can Be
Gold's clients? Or was he still just trying to ferret out
information about the tape's value?
Nancy continued to play dumb about the robbery.
“Last night at Low Downs, Ethan said you told him all
about the tape.”
“All that I knew then,” Wes corrected her.
“And that was?”
Wes frowned. For a minute he appeared genuinely
puzzled. He finally gave a small shrug. “Nothing more
than we knew about it yesterday—how it could possibly
be a recording of Lou Knight's last song.”
Nancy regarded Wes carefully. “Come off it, Wes,”
she said, adopting a playful tone. “You told us yesterday
to keep quiet about the tape, not to publicize its
existence until we were sure what it was. Then you go
and tell Ethan—and who knows who else?”
Wes shook his head. “Sure I mentioned it to a
collector or two, and then to a couple of guys in the
music biz, who frankly said they'd give their right arms
for it, but there was no harm in that. Your friend will
probably be talking to some of the same guys today, if
she hasn't already. Wait...” Wes narrowed his eyes.
“She's already gotten a firm appraisal and is looking for
bidders, isn't she?”
Before Nancy could respond, some kind of ruckus
erupted behind her, the crowd pressed around her,
and she was bumped from behind, nearly careening
into Wes's arms.
“Hey, watch it!” someone yelled at the table behind
them. Nancy and Wes both turned in protest.
“What's going on?” Wes shouted.
“I don't know,” the appraiser at the next table
replied. “I almost dropped this vase, and it's very
valuable,” she added. “It's getting too crowded in
here.” The woman carefully handed the vase back to its
owner.
“I don't believe this!” Wes's bellow made Nancy
jump.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I've just been robbed!” he roared, his hand closing
on Nancy's wrist like a vise.
9. Nancy Nabbed
“Let go of me!” Nancy demanded, wriggling free of
Wes Clarke's grasp.
Wes ignored Nancy's protest. He pointed at the
shelf behind Nancy. “Look, it's gone. Did you see
anyone lurking around here?”
“No, I didn't.” She peered at his display shelf. At
first she didn't notice anything out of place. “What's
missing?”
“The fingerprinting kit you were looking at yes-
terday,” he said, a funny expression crossing his face.
He narrowed his eyes at Nancy, then shook his head. “I
had my back turned,” Wes grumbled, “but you were
fa
cing the shelf. Did you see anything?”
“No, I didn't,” Nancy replied, “but are you sure you
had the kit out today?”
Wes rolled his eyes. “Of course I'm sure.” Then he
muttered, “Whoever pilfered the kit purposely caused
a disturbance in the crowd, then, when our backs were
turned, stole it. Well, I'd better go get Security.”
“Do you want me to watch the table until you get
back?” Nancy volunteered. She wanted a chance to
look under the table to check the box Wes had been so
quick to hide.
“No, no.” Wes brushed her off. “My friend Derek is
used to covering for me.” He motioned toward a
nearby table where a tall gray-haired man was sorting
vintage comic books. “Could you mind the shop a
minute? I've just been robbed and want to find
Security.”
“Sure,” Derek said. “That's a first at one of these
shows,” he commented.
“Guess there's a first time for everything,” Wes said
sourly.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Nancy asked.
“You said you didn't see anything, so there's no
point. But where will you be in case Security wants to
talk to you?”
“I'm heading to the food court, to meet up with
friends, but I might stop at Westfield's first,” Nancy
told him.
Now, Nancy thought, she would never get a chance
to get a close-up look at that box . . . not unless she
came back after hours or early tomorrow.
“Nancy, right?”
Nancy looked up into the chocolaty brown eyes of
one of the Woodard twins—but which one?
Then she noticed that he wasn't carrying a camera.
“Ethan?”
“You're good!” Ethan beamed. “Most people can't
figure us out so fast. You seem to be a very figuring-out
sort of person.”
“You're kidding, right?” Hadn't Jason told his
brother that Nancy was investigating the burglaries?
“About what—about my being Ethan? No. I am
Ethan. What was the giveaway?” he asked, seemingly
oblivious to Nancy's mocking tone.
Nancy decided to play along and take Ethan at face
value. “No camera!” Then she realized that wasn't the
only difference between the twins. Ethan's general
demeanor was a bit more snobbish than his brother's.
“So are we still on for tonight?”
“Uh, sure, at Jason's party.”
“That, too. But I meant about listening to your