Cold as Ice (5 page)

As they drew closer, Nancy recalled where she had seen the man before. He was the museum guard who had been in the room with the Empress of Austria's jewels.

“That's him,” she heard the guard say to the officer. “I'm sure of it.”

The officer stepped over to Rob and said, “Excuse me, sir. Would you mind telling me your name?”

Rob looked up from unlacing his skates. “Me? Robert Harper. Why?”

The officer said, “I'd like you to come with me, please, when you've finished with your skates.”

Rob looked baffled. “Come with you where? Why?”

The officer looked at him and replied, “To the police station. We just want to ask you some questions. But I think it's fair to warn you that you might be a suspect in the Emerson Museum jewelry theft!”

N
ANCY WATCHED
with growing concern as the police car took Rob away. Once it was out of sight, everyone standing near the bonfire began to talk at once in subdued voices.

“Why on earth do they want to question Rob?” George muttered to Nancy.

“The guard singled him out,” Nancy answered. “Remember last night in the museum, the way Rob boasted that he could get around the alarm system? And the way he and Bess kept leaning over the case with the jewels that were stolen this morning? Their fingerprints are probably all over that display case.”

“But that's not evidence,” George protested.
“Dozens of people must have touched that case!”

“I know,” Nancy said. “But don't forget that one of them was probably the thief. It's their responsibility to check out everyone who's the least bit suspicious.”

Bess had been talking to Jerry, her mug of hot cocoa in one hand and a stick with a toasted marshmallow on it in the other. Now she turned to Nancy and said, “We've got to do something about this. We've got to find out who really stole the jewels.” Before popping the gooey marshmallow into her mouth, she added, “And if I know you, you've already got some suspects.”

“I have a couple,” Nancy told them. “But I'm going to need a lot of help.”

“Just tell us what to do,” Jerry volunteered, with a snappy salute that made Bess giggle.

Nancy took a few steps away from the crowd, and Bess, George, Ned, and Jerry followed her. “I'd like you all to talk to people who either visited the museum or attended the boat house dedication this morning.”

“What are we looking for?” asked George.

Nancy grimaced. “I don't know, exactly,” she confessed. “Find out who they saw and talked to. Beyond that, look for anything out of the ordinary.”

“You think the fire at the boat house was linked to the robbery?” Jerry asked.

“The timing was just too neat to be a coincidence,” Nancy said, glancing at her watch. “We should get on with it. What do you say we meet in the student center in an hour?”

“What are you going to do now?” Ned asked her as the others walked away. “Can I help?”

Nancy shook her head. “I'm going to try to get permission from the college authorities to solve the theft,” she said. “They can't stop me, in any event, but it would make my work easier if they cooperated.”

Nancy skipped up the stairs that led to the main part of the campus. She felt lighter since George had offered to take her skates back to the dorm. Before heading over to the administration building, however, she decided to stop at the Emerson Museum. Luck was with her. Dean Jarvis's car was still parked in front. She climbed the steps and banged on the closed doors. No response. She looked around and finding a small bell to one side, she pressed it. Half a minute later, the door opened a couple of inches and the guard who had identified Rob looked out at her.

“Sorry, the museum's closed for the day,” he said gruffly, starting to close the door.

“I'd like to speak to Dean Jarvis,” Nancy said
quickly. “I believe he's inside. Please tell him it's Nancy Drew.”

The guard scowled. “I don't—” he began.

“It's very important,” Nancy pressed.

“Okay, hold on.” After a few moments the door opened and the guard reappeared. “Okay,” he told her, “come on in. Dean Jarvis is over there.”

Dean Jarvis was standing with President Butler and Mr. Whorf. All three men glanced over at Nancy as she started across the entrance hall.

Dean Jarvis stepped away from the others and met her in the middle of the hall. “What is it, Nancy?” he asked in a low voice. “The guard said it was important.”

“It's about the jewel theft,” Nancy said. “Have you heard that the police have taken one of your students, Rob Harper, down to the station for questioning?”

Jarvis drew his eyebrows together. “Harper? No, I—I know they've been questioning a few people here,” he continued. “I didn't know they had taken anyone to the station.”

“I don't think Rob had anything to do with the theft,” Nancy said, “but I don't have proof at this point. What I would like from you is the college's permission to look into the case.”

“Harper is a friend of Ned Nickerson, isn't he?”

Nancy felt her cheeks redden. “Yes,” she said. “He is. But I can give you my word that won't affect the way I handle the case. If I find evidence that Rob
was
involved, I'll turn it over to the authorities immediately.”

Jarvis looked embarrassed. “I didn't mean to suggest that you wouldn't,” he said quickly. “I was thinking more of how it might look to someone who doesn't know you—the police, for instance.”

He rubbed his temples while he thought. At last he said, “All right, Nancy, you have my permission to investigate. You've helped the college out of tight spots before, and we can certainly use your help now.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Nancy said, smiling. “Would you mind if I check a couple of things with you? Is it definite that the jewels were stolen while the guards were distracted by the fire at the boat house?”

“Oh, yes.”

“How many people were in the museum at the time of the theft?” Nancy asked.

“About a dozen, from what I've heard,” Jarvis replied. “Plus the two guards. But once they heard the sirens, they all left the exhibit area and went to see what was going on. The police couldn't find anyone who didn't, as a matter of fact.”

“So the exhibit was empty—except for the thief,” Nancy pointed out. “Okay, thanks, Dean. I'd better get to work.”

“Thank
you,
Nancy,” he said. “And good luck.”

Nancy went slowly through the museum, checking out its layout and looking for anything unusual. As she expected, the emergency exit was just outside the last room of the jewelry exhibit —the room where the empress's jewels had been displayed. The security room, where the alarm system was located, was a small, cramped room at the very back of the museum, far from both the exhibit and the entrance to the museum.

After finishing her inspection, she asked the guards a few questions, then checked her watch. She still had time before she had to meet the others at the student center, so she sat down on a bench in the museum's entrance hall to think.

The thief had probably used the emergency entrance to make his exit. Since the alarm had already been shut off, there was no fear of it sounding. But how had he gotten in without anyone seeing him? She wished she could get a copy of the list of people who'd been in the museum at the time, but that didn't seem possible.

Sighing, Nancy propped her elbows on her jeans and rested her chin in the palms of her
hands. There was the question of how the boat house fire fit in, too. If the same person was responsible for both crimes, as she suspected, then he or she would have had to make quick time getting from the boat house to the museum after setting the fire. How long a walk was it?

There were two ways to go: along the lakeshore and past the field with the snow sculptures to the steps leading up the hill, or along the path that led through the little wood and up a gentler slope farther down the hill. The lake path seemed as if it might be a bit more direct, but it was also much more exposed. Nancy had a hunch that the thief would have taken the more hidden path instead.

Zipping up her jacket, she braced herself for the cold and headed along the bluff in the direction of the path that would lead to the small woods. The stretch of road between the museum and the path was pretty deserted—there weren't any buildings, and there was a good cover of evergreens on both sides.

Nancy turned down the path. She kept a sharp lookout for anything unusual, pausing every so often to glance into the woods on either side of the path. She was about halfway through the woods when she noticed a line of footprints that left the path to enter a small clump of evergreens. Another line of footprints returned to the path a few yards farther on. The prints looked fresh,
their edges still sharp. She bent down to peer in under the trees and felt her heart start to beat faster. What was that dark shape on the snow?

Carefully avoiding the two lines of footprints, she made her way across the snow and ducked under the interlaced branches. As she neared the shadowy objects, the strong smell of gasoline filled the air.

Nancy then saw that the shadow was a purple jacket with orange leather sleeves lying crumpled up on the snow. Jackpot! she thought triumphantly. Maybe the jacket belonged to whoever had set the boat house fire? When she bent down to pick it up, the harsh odor of gasoline intensified, causing her to cough.

She carried the jacket back out to the path and held it up. She gasped when she saw the crossed oars on the back. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as she turned the jacket around to read the name embroidered on the front.

The jacket belonged to Rob Harper!

A
S
N
ANCY STARED
at the jacket, a whiff of gasoline burned her nose, sending her into another coughing fit. But before she could get her breath back, a hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder.

“Okay, young lady,” a gruff voice said. “You'd better hand that over and explain what you're doing!”

Nancy whirled around and found herself face-to-face with a beefy police officer, who sported a crew cut and glasses. She'd been coughing so hard she hadn't heard him come up behind her.

“Officer, I think I've just found—”

“You're coming with me, miss,” the officer cut in. “You've got a lot of explaining to do!”

If you'll let me, Nancy said to herself.

• • •

Forty-five minutes later, at the police station, Nancy was still trying to explain what had happened, but no one was listening.

“Look, Sergeant Balsam,” she said for what seemed like the billionth time, “if you'll just telephone Dean Jarvis—”

“I'll get to that, Ms. Drew,” the police sergeant said. “But first,” he continued, “I'd like you to tell me again what you were doing in those woods with that jacket.”

“I already—” Nancy began.

He cut her off. “I know, you already told me. But I have a short memory, especially when I'm talking to people who've been tampering with important evidence. Try telling me again.”

Nancy sighed and shifted in her chair. “I was walking along the path from the museum to the boat house,” she said wearily, “when I noticed some footprints going off into a clump of trees. Then I saw something lying on the ground in the middle of the trees. It was the jacket. When I brought it out to the path where the light was better, your officer came along.”

“Uh-huh,” the sergeant said. He frowned at her. “What would you say if I told you that a
police team swept that area earlier today and didn't find a jacket or anything else? Would that make you think again about your story?”

“I'm sorry, Sergeant,” Nancy said firmly. “I've just told you what happened. Either your crew missed the jacket earlier or it wasn't put there until later.”