The Stolen Kiss (5 page)

“Will the theft be very damaging?”

Removing his glasses, Dr. Morrison rubbed his eyes. “Yes, it's going to hurt us. People won't contribute money or paintings to a museum with poor security. Traveling exhibits will be canceled. The college and Emerson students will suffer in the end. That's why it's crucial to find the thief,” Dr. Morrison added fiercely.

“I'll do my best,” Nancy promised.

George was waiting for her in the lobby. “I'd like to check out the sporting goods stores near campus,” Nancy said. “I want to find out if that climbing rope used in the robbery was bought recently. I have a hunch that our thief is here on campus and bought the rope nearby.”

• • •

After a morning of inquiries, Nancy and George rested by dangling their feet in the cool water of the quad fountain as they waited for Ned. The open space in front of the student union was crowded with students.

A girl in pink overalls skated up and handed George a flyer. “Hey, Nan, this must be my lucky day. This flyer entitles me to a free makeover at the beauty school at the corner of Emerson and Main.”

Nancy elbowed George in the ribs. “Bess always tells us blonds have more fun,” Nancy teased, refering to George's cousin. “Go for it.”

George laughed, then pointed in the direction of the ivy-covered administration building across the quad. “Hey, there's Debbie. With a tall, skinny girl in a red shirt.” Nancy looked over. Debbie's friend had long brown hair and a small, pointy face. Neither of them looked too happy. A moment later Nancy lost sight of them in the crowd.

The clock struck twelve-thirty. Stepping up onto the fountain wall, Nancy looked around the plaza. She spied a familiar figure in jeans and a T-shirt loping through the crowd. “Ned!”

Ned's arm shot up into the air as he quickened his pace, swerving around some girls on skates.

Nancy punched him playfully when he hugged her. “You're late, Nickerson,” she told him.

Ned grinned. “Sorry, but my chemistry professor kept us after class.” Ned eased himself down onto the edge of the fountain. “How's the investigation?”

“Hard to tell,” Nancy said. “We learned that three people bought climbing rope at a store near campus in the last month, all with credit cards.” “But the store won't release the buyers' names to Nancy,” George added.

“I can't reach Sergeant Weinberg,” Nancy explained. “I'll have to get the buyers' names from him. I'll try him later.”

“Sounds frustrating,” Ned said sympathetically.

“We also stopped at the box office,” Nancy continued. “There's no way to find out who bought that particular concert ticket. Strictly general admission.”

“Maybe I'm your thief,” Ned said, pretending to rummage in his pocket. “I can't find my stub.”

“Right, Nickerson,” Nancy quipped. “But I'm your alibi for yesterday.” She snuggled closer to him. Ned was just as much a hunk as Michael Jared. Even hunkier. “We also stopped at a gallery on Main Street and showed the owner a photo of
First Kiss
—in case the thief was an amateur who might try to sell the painting in town. No luck.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Nancy noticed Bryan Barbour trudging down the student union steps. Ned saw him, too, and waved Bryan over. “What's up?” Ned asked as he walked over.

Bryan shrugged. “Debbie was going to meet me at eleven-thirty, but she didn't show up.”

“We just saw her,” Nancy said.

“Yeah?” Bryan sighed. “I guess I've been stood up. She probably blames me for the break-in and her losing her job.”

“Come on,” Ned said. “No one blames you.” But you're still a suspect, Nancy said to herself. We've only got your word about being locked in the shed.

“Why don't you have lunch with us?” George suggested.

Bryan lit up. “I could do that.”

“Let's try the new Art Café in the union.” Bryan made a face at Ned's suggestion.

“Is there a problem with the café?” Nancy asked.

“No.” Bryan shrugged. “The café's fine.”

They walked down the ramp that cut through the center of the union and then took the stairs to the second floor. The Art Café was a dark cavelike room with walls covered with paintings.

Nancy spotted the reason for Bryan's hesitation: Rina. She was working behind the counter.

As they filed past Rina with their trays, Bryan smiled tentatively at her. Rina didn't smile back.

“Nice seeing you, too, Rina,” Bryan muttered as he took his sandwich. With cool efficiency, Rina served Nancy next.

“Does anyone mind if we eat outside?” Bryan asked after they'd paid for their food. “It's a little tense in here.” The others agreed and made their way back down the stairs.

When they reached the lobby Nancy said, “I'll meet you guys outside.” She wanted to try Sergeant Weinberg again. Several phones were free, but Nancy had no change. Frustrated, she ran into the bookstore.

The line at the cash register snaked ten deep down a narrow aisle, made narrower by bins full of art supplies lining the space. A supply list for Michael Jared's painting class was posted over one bin. Nancy looked in, curious. She saw small shrink-wrapped packages labeled “Jared—Art Starter Kit” with the course number printed on the outside.

“Pardon me,” a soft voice said as the line inched forward. Nancy let a tall girl with a red shirt squeeze past. She looked familiar. Of course, Nancy thought—the girl was Debbie's friend, the one George had spied across the quad earlier. Nancy craned her neck, looking for Debbie, but she didn't see her.

The girl was in front of the art supply bins. After a quick check over her shoulder, she slipped a Jared class packet into her backpack and calmly walked out of the store.

Debbie's friend a shoplifter? Nancy forgot about her change and rushed outside after the girl.

T
HE SUN BLINDED
N
ANCY
long enough for the girl to put some distance between them. She must have sensed that someone was watching her, because she suddenly took off, losing herself in the crowd. Nancy ran after her.

Just then a horde of shouting, sweaty guys in shorts, T-shirts, and headbands charged across Nancy's path.

“Watch out, babe!” one of the guys yelled.

Nancy circled around the pack of athletes, but by the time she was in the clear, the girl was gone.

Nancy sighed. She wondered whether Debbie would be willing to identify the girl. Feeling frustrated, Nancy joined her friends.

Ned was finishing his sandwich, and George was almost through with her shrimp salad. Bryan's plate was totally clean.

“Where have you been?” Ned asked, concerned.

“Don't ask,” Nancy said. “I never did get to call Sergeant Weinberg.” She described what had happened. “I'm sure it was Debbie's friend.” Turning to Bryan, she asked, “Does she sound like someone you might have met?”

“Not really.”

Nancy was finishing up her salad when Michael Jared approached their outdoor table. Her stomach flipped over once.

Nancy blushed slightly as Michael walked up, his eyes fixed on hers.

“Hi, Nancy. George.” He turned back to Nancy. “Anything happening?”

“Nothing yet,” Nancy said. Then she remembered Michael hadn't met Ned or Bryan. She introduced them.

“Sorry about your painting,” Ned said, shaking Jared's hand. Nancy frowned. She detected a note of something—annoyance, jealousy, in Ned's voice.

“Thanks, man,” Michael said. Then he smiled again at Nancy. “So I'll expect you at the studio at a quarter to three. You'll need a few minutes to change for the modeling session.” He took off for the exit.

“Modeling session?” Ned stared at Nancy. “I don't get it, Nan. First you agree to help Dean Jarvis with this case. Then you decide to book whatever free time you have by posing for Jared.” Ned crumpled his napkin and tossed it onto his tray. “Exactly when do
we
see each other?”

Nancy couldn't believe the hurt in his eyes. “Ned,” she cried, “we couldn't be together this afternoon, anyway. You have classes. Besides, it'll give me a chance to talk to Michael.”

“I'm sure it will,” Ned snapped.

Nancy's mouth fell open. “You're jealous.”

“Shouldn't I be?” Ned said, pushing his chair back from the table. “You came here to spend time with me. But everything and everyone else has gotten top priority.”

Ned tossed his paper plate into a wastebasket and grabbed his backpack. “See you guys later.”

Nancy stared forlornly after Ned as he vanished into the crowd. George patted Nancy's hand, then focused on Bryan. Nancy felt awful. She had just had a pretty serious fight with Ned in front of their friends.

Nancy picked at her salad as she listened to Bryan tell George about a climbing trip he planned the next weekend to Indian Rock State Park. After a few minutes he started to talk about the theft.

“What a bum deal for Mr. Jared. He's a good guy.” Bryan twisted his gold earring. “But art collectors will do anything to get a painting they want. I know this one collector named Ian Sanders—I crewed on his yacht in the Caribbean.” Bryan tilted his chair back. “Now, there's the life. I sure would give anything to be that rich,” he said dreamily, then shook his head. “What am I talking about? I'll never have that kind of dough.”

Nancy leaned forward and listened carefully as Bryan continued to describe Ian Sanders's lifestyle. “He spent a million bucks for some little painting last year, just because he loved it.”

“Ian Sanders,” George mused. “That name is familiar.”

“Ian's name is in the paper whenever there's a bidding war on some famous painting,” Bryan said. “In fact, he happens to be crazy about Jared's stuff and is coming to Emerson for the opening. He's taking me to dinner Monday night.”

Bryan pulled a pair of black in-line skates out of his backpack. “I'd better hit the road.” He stuffed his red hightops into his pack, changed into the skates, then turned to George shyly.

“Nancy's modeling at three. Are you busy?”

George cocked her head. “No—not really.”

“I was heading over to the Climbing Wall—that's a climbing gym in town. Ever climbed before?”

“Sure. I love it,” George said. “If Nancy doesn't need me, I'd love to come with you. It'll be fun.”

“Great idea,” said Nancy. “Let's call Sergeant Weinberg now and see what he's found out.”

George and Bryan set up a meeting place, then Bryan skated off across the quad. Nancy and George went in to the bank of telephones in the union lobby.

Sergeant Weinberg was on another line so Nancy left a message that she'd call back in a couple of minutes. Then she phoned her father, Carson Drew, because she needed information on Dr. Morrison. She was hoping her dad knew someone connected with Chicago's Cabbott Museum who could help them understand Morrison's need for money. Reaching her father, Nancy briefed him on the case.

“I do know someone on the Cabbott board of directors,” he said. “I'll find out what I can. But I want you to be careful, Nancy.”

“I will, Dad. Give my love to Hannah,” Nancy added, including the woman who'd been their housekeeper for the past fifteen years.

Nancy tried Sergeant Weinberg again, and this time reached him. “I got your message,” the sergeant said. “And I have those names for you.”

Nancy copied down the names and telephone numbers of the three people who had purchased rope at Outdoors Unlimited in the last month—Arnold Salomon, Michelle Vasquez, and Bryan Barbour. “Bryan?” Nancy repeated.

“That surprised me, too,” the sergeant admitted. “It's probably just a coincidence, but since Bryan was at the scene of the crime, I'd like to know where his rope is.”

“I'll find out,” Nancy assured him.

“If you'd check on all three purchasers, it would sure help me out, Nancy. I'm jammed up right now. Oh, by the way. The hammer and jumars were wiped clean of prints. If we're dealing with an amateur, it's a clever amateur.”

After Nancy filled George in on her talk with Sergeant Weinberg, George's face fell. “I wish you could rule out Bryan.”

“Everyone's a suspect,” Nancy reminded her. George nodded sadly. “I know. I just don't want to believe he's guilty.”

“You're starting to like him.”

“I can't help it. And I don't think he's really serious about Debbie either.”

“She's just about ready to give up on him, too,” Nancy said. “But he's not free yet, George.”

George gave a quick smile. “All I'm doing is going climbing with him. And it's going to stay that way unless they really break up.” George leaned against the wall. “But he
is
cute, and fun, and—I don't think he's your thief, Nancy.”