The Stolen Show

by Carolyn Keene

  He was about to end the call when I put a hand on his shoulder. “No, wait,” I said. “There’s one more thing you should know.”

  “What is it?” he asked, cupping one hand over the phone.

  “The jewel smuggler,” I said. “The code name isn’t ‘Surefire’; it’s ‘Sapphire.’ I heard the two kidnappers say it, clear as day.”

  Charles’s eyes widened. “Sapphire,” he muttered. “Yes, that makes much more sense for a jewel smuggler, n’est-ce pas?”

  I nodded. I had been thinking about it myself during the final ride up to the hotel on the ATV. “Not only that,” I added, “but I think it’s just what we needed to narrow down who the smuggler really is.”

  Charles cocked his head in curiosity, reminding me very much of his dog, Coco. People really did gravitate toward dogs that resembled them. Another reason why I was pretty sure my hunch was correct. “Oh?” he said with amused curiosity. “Are you going to let me in on your little secret? Or do you plan on trying to catch the criminal yourself as well?”

  “No, I think I could use your help on this one,” I replied. “But I do have a plan.”

  Charles chuckled. “Well, I am honored to be invited to your sting operation, Mademoiselle Drew. We have a lot of planning to do before the night is over.”

  After telling Charles to wait a minute, I went back to see how Bess was doing. She looked much better already and was sitting up and no longer shivering. Her fingers were individually bandaged with soft white gauze, and she was wrapped like a human-size burrito in three or four fuzzy blankets. She looked up at me and smiled as I approached. “Oh, Bess,” I breathed. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  She nodded. “My fingers and toes are still a little numb, but other than that, I’m no worse for wear. Though I’m starving. What I’d do for poutine!”

  “Oh my gosh,” George gasped. “A plate of hot, greasy french fries would be amazing right now.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Bess asked her cousin.

  “Room service!” they both said in unison.

  “After you stuff yourselves, you both should get some sleep,” I said. “I won’t be back in the room for an hour or two; I have some things to discuss with Charles. Tomorrow is going to be another big day.”

  “Oh?” Bess asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Tomorrow,” I told them, “we catch a thief.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Digging Out the Truth

  THE CASE WASN’T SOLVED YET, but that night I slept much more soundly knowing Bess was safe. George insisted that we all stay in the same room for the night, so Bess and I took the bed, and George made herself comfortable on the sofa with a pile of blankets. They were both still dead to the world when I woke up at seven a.m. to my usual alarm. The sun was still rising as I slipped out of bed and pulled one of the curtains aside. My room had a beautiful view of the snowbound city, where already salt trucks and workers armed with shovels had ventured out to begin clearing the sidewalks and roads. The remnants of last night’s storm merely a gray shadow of cloud on the horizon. I watched as members of the hotel staff struggled to dig out some of the cars that were stranded in front of the château, buried under feet of snow. I have a lot of my own digging to do today, I thought, and went to make myself a cup of coffee from the little machine on the dresser.

  The coffee machine had just started gurgling when there was a knock at the door. George shot up from the couch, throwing off the blankets and looking around blearily. “Ugh,” she moaned, stretching. “It’s too early for visitors!” I shrugged on one of the thick hotel bathrobes and shuffled toward the door to squint through the peephole. Charles was standing there, looking impatient in a tan suit and paisley tie.

  I opened the door, and he immediately walked past me into the room. “I have news,” he said.

  “Good morning to you, too,” George said sarcastically.

  “What is it, Charles?” I asked.

  “The two thugs who kidnapped Mademoiselle Marvin were apprehended by Interpol last night shortly after you arrived back at the hotel,” Charles replied. “They foolishly sped right back to the paper factory after losing you on the street, and my agents were already there waiting for them.”

  I nodded. It was good to know those guys were off the streets.

  “We had hoped to get information about Sapphire from their mobile phones, but unfortunately one of the men smashed his phone before we could get our hands on it. We managed to recover the other man’s phone, but the security on it means it will take a while for our people to break through. The good news is that we don’t think the men had the opportunity to report back to Sapphire that their hostage had been recovered, or that the men themselves had been arrested. Cell phone signals were spotty last night because of the storm—so it looks as if their calls to the thief never connected. We were lucky to get your text last night, Mademoiselle Drew. So as far as we know, our jewel thief still thinks everything is going according to plan. Where is Mademoiselle Marvin now?”

  I pointed to the bed, where Bess was buried under a heap of blankets, still fast asleep. “She’s got to be exhausted from the ordeal,” I said. “I’d be surprised if she got out of that bed before noon.”

  “She can stay in bed until tomorrow if she likes,” Charles said. “In fact, I recommend it. We want her to remain out of sight until our mission is complete. If Sapphire sees her, the thief will know that the jig is up.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So other than that, it’s just like we talked about, right? We go through the finals for the dog show like normal, keeping our eyes open for any signs of who might be there to receive the jewels.”

  Charles gave a curt nod. “We’re fairly certain that the exchange won’t happen until after the winner is announced. So we have to close in right before.” The coffee machine let out a cheerful ding! Charles proceeded to walk over to it and prepare himself a cup, pouring in a serving of creamer and almost too many sugar packets to count. “Any sugar for your cup, Mademoiselle Drew?” he asked, offering her a packet.

  “No thank you,” I replied.

  “Suit yourself. Well, get yourself ready for the day. It’s going to be a long one. And remember the most important thing of all—”

  “Don’t be a hero?” I guessed.

  Charles took a sip of his supersweet coffee and grimaced. “Comfortable shoes,” he said, and left the room without another word.

  “What a strange, strange man,” George said after a moment.

  “Agreed,” I said. “But he’s right, we’ve got to get ready. The show starts in an hour!”

  About an hour later, George and I found ourselves scrambling into the convention center with only minutes to spare. The taxicab we’d finally hailed ended up getting stuck in traffic four blocks from the building, so we got out and ran the rest of the way through the snow. Luckily, we had taken Charles’s advice and worn our comfortable snow boots! Angie and Alice arrived at the same time as we did in a taxi of their own, and we greeted them both as we approached the entrance.

  “Little Alice here hailed a cab for us. Isn’t that sweet?” Angie said, patting the younger woman on the shoulder.

  Alice blushed and shook her head. “It was nothing,” she said.

  Inside, Louise was hobbling back and forth on her crutch in the waiting area with Marge, looking frantic. The remaining competitors were standing around with their dogs as the announcer’s voice welcomed guests to the show. When Louise saw George and me running in, she clapped a hand against her chest in relief. “Oh! Thank goodness you’re here. I thought I was going to have to hobble out into the ring myself. Where have you been?”

  “The storm,” I said, panting. “Getting here was a challenge.”

  Louise sniffed. “Where’s Bess? Still sick?”

  I nodded. “Getting better, though.”

  Louise shook her head. “Must be something going around—I heard there was some kind of medical emergency in the hotel lobby l
ast night. No one would give me any details, though. Do you girls know what happened?”

  George and I looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Oh, well. Anyway—come on, ladies! It’s showtime! The big day is upon us!”

  I gulped and followed Louise toward the ring’s entrance. Unlike the day before, I didn’t have time to be nervous, because the moment I got to the front of the crowd, I heard the announcer say, “And now, for our first finalist—the winner in the Terrier Group. Please welcome Marge the bull terrier, and her handler, Miss Nancy Drew!” A moment later Louise shoved Marge’s lead into my hand and George propelled me out into the bright light of the arena. I stood frozen for a moment, staring out into the crowds of people in the stands and the table of expectant-looking judges, still trying to catch my breath. Something wet on my hand made me look down to see Marge nuzzling me and gazing up at me with her little black eyes.

  “Thanks for the pep talk,” I whispered to her. “Let’s do this!”

  I relaxed my shoulders and smiled at the crowd, who welcomed us to the ring with a round of applause. We did our circuit, the same as yesterday, and then stopped to stand for the judges. One of them, a bald man with tiny circular glasses, examined Marge from top to bottom but seemed distracted as he did it, which struck me as strange. His eyes kept flicking toward the waiting area, and I noticed one of his hands tapping nervously on his leg. Could this man be Sapphire’s buyer? It was worth keeping in mind.

  After a few minutes, the judge declared that he was done and released us back to the waiting area. Louise welcomed us with open arms. “You did great!” she announced. “You made it, Red—now all you have to do is sit back and wait for the results.”

  I spied George sitting nearby and collapsed into a chair next to her. “See anything interesting while I was out there?” I murmured in her ear.

  “Mmm,” George replied, nibbling on her fingernails. She always kept them short, but when she was anxious, she had a bad habit of biting them to the quick. “Well, most of them look pretty nervous, I’d say. Joe hasn’t stopped pacing the room since you left. The only ones who seem to be holding up well are Valencia and Helen. Both of them have just been sitting there on their phones—V seems to be taking more selfies with her dog, and Helen has been texting nonstop, with her kids and husband, probably. That’s all she ever talks about.”

  I sighed. “It could go either way,” I said. “It could be that the thief is nervous because they know that the exchange is about to happen, or they could be the kind of person who’s done this so many times that it’s a cinch.”

  “But I thought you knew who the thief was—not that you’ve told me.”

  “I have a hunch,” I admitted. “But I won’t know for sure if I’m right until we set the trap.”

  George looked at me. “What if you’re wrong? I mean, this person could be dangerous, right?”

  I looked out at the small group of people still waiting to show their dogs. Joe, Valencia, Alice, Helen, and Angie. None of them looked dangerous. But one of them was.

  “Let’s just hope I’m not wrong,” I said.

  Half an hour later, once all the dogs had their turns, the other competitors and I retired to a back room to wait for the judges’ decision. It was a fairly large room, with a dozen chairs, a table covered in magazines about Quebec City, and a mini fridge filled with bottled water. I downed an entire bottle of water, and then poured half of another into a little cup for Marge. She lapped it up gratefully, and then looked at me and whined. It was almost as if even she knew that something big was about to happen.

  Helen was seated on the small sofa, telling Valencia all about her fashion collar business, and Joe was pacing. Alice was sitting alone with Pia in her arms, not saying anything to anybody. Angie went over to her and offered her a mint. “Uh, no thank you,” Alice said, waving her hand at the tin. Angie shrugged and popped a few into her own mouth before picking up a magazine. She didn’t seem very nervous—despite the setbacks Marshmallow had experienced. Charles and Coco came in last, and he closed the door behind him with a distinctive click. Our eyes met, and he gave me a subtle nod.

  It was time.

  I took a deep breath, then stood up and cleared my throat. Like a bunch of English pointers, everyone’s heads turned immediately to look at me. The dogs, however, looked bored. All of them except for Daisy, who was watching me attentively. But then again, Daisy was a Doberman, so that might just come with the territory. I handed Marge’s lead to Angie, who took it with a look of confusion. “Like the rest of you,” I began, taking a few steps into the center of the room, “I’ve been working hard to give my dog a shot at the big prize. But I’ve been working on something else, too. I’ve been trying to find out who drugged Marshmallow Fluff and sabotaged her chances at the show.”

  Everyone looked at one another uncomfortably. This probably wasn’t news to anyone, but having it said out loud made it all too clear what was about to happen. Angie tightened her grip on Marshmallow’s lead, and Charles crossed his arms. “So for the past couple of days, I’ve been watching all of you very closely. And I’ve noticed quite a few strange things going on. Some of you in this room, I think, aren’t what you seem.”

  At those words, Joe Cook slammed his fist down on the table, making the pile of magazines—and half the people in the room—jump. “I knew I couldn’t get away with it,” he muttered. Helen gasped.

  I swallowed. “Get away with what, Joe?”

  “I figure you know what, so why don’t you tell them?” Joe said irritably.

  “I don’t—” I started to say.

  “Oh, don’t toy with me,” he sputtered. “Just tell them that my name is really José Columbo! That I’m really a pro wrestler under the name Bull’s-Eye!”

  Angie’s jaw dropped. “I knew I’d seen him somewhere before!”

  Joe sighed, his enormous shoulders slumping. “If the other wrestlers or the federation knew that I showed dogs in my spare time, I’d never hear the end of it. So when I got Shirley, I decided that when I was on the road with her, I’d have a new identity. That way no one would know. But I guess it didn’t work, after all.”

  “Ohh,” I breathed. “So that’s why you paid off that guy in the alley when he recognized you. You didn’t want him giving away the secret.”

  Joe nodded. “You saw that, huh? Figures. Look, I just wanted to Shirley to be the star—not me. I wanted her to win because she’s beautiful, my little heartbreaker.” Joe hefted the dog like a baby doll and kissed her on the nose. “But I never hurt Angie’s dog,” he said with passion. “No way. I love dogs more than I love winning. I wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unless it was in the ring, of course.”

  “I know, Joe,” I said. “Really, I didn’t even know all that stuff about the wrestling.”

  Joe blushed. “So . . . I just outed myself for no reason?”

  “Looks like it,” I replied.

  “Oh,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

  “No,” I continued. “I had an idea of who had drugged Marshmallow once I’d gotten a whiff of Valencia’s chewing gum in the elevator.”

  Valencia’s eyes, heavy with liner and mascara, widened like a couple of Venus flytraps. “Be careful where you tread, Nancy,” she growled.

  I glanced at her, unfazed, and went on. “The gum that was used on Marshmallow was bubble-gum flavor, but Valencia only chews cherry-flavored gum—her breath always smells of it. It was an oversight clearly made by someone looking to pin the crime on another person, and why not Valencia? She’s passionate, competitive—people would easily believe she was capable of something like that.”

  Valencia stood up. “Hey! What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you’re innocent,” I replied, crossing my arms.

  Valencia looked confused. “Oh,” she said, slowly sitting back down.

  “Now, any one of you had a motive to pull this stunt,” I said. “By ruining Marshmallow’s fur, you’d be removing her from the competitio
n, and if Valencia was accused of the crime, then Hollywood Garden would be out of the running too. Two birds with one stone.” I paused. “But one of you made the mistake of calling attention to yourself, when you pointed the finger at Valencia.”

  At that moment, Alice, who had been sitting stock-still this entire time, burst into tears.

  Angie looked over at her, shocked. “Alice?” she said. “You? But—”

  “I’m so sorry!” Alice finally managed. “Pia really needed this one to move to the next level, and I was worried that Marshmallow was a favorite. I was never going to hurt her; I just wanted her out of the way. But as soon as it was done, and I saw how upset you were . . . I felt awful! I wanted to take it all back. But it was too late.”

  I walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Alice,” I said softly, “it’s never too late to do the right thing.”

  Alice buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  “Well,” said Valencia, picking up her phone again, “I’m glad that’s over.”

  I held up a hand. “Not quite,” I said.

  Valencia licked her red lips and trained her eyes on me.

  “You see, what I didn’t realize at first was that there was something much more sinister going on at this dog show, and that my sniffing around about the attack on Marshmallow made the person behind it all very, very nervous. So nervous, in fact, that they resorted to extreme measures to try and stop my investigation.”

  “What in the world are you talking about, Nancy?” Joe asked.

  “I’m talking about an international jewel smuggler disguising themselves as a dog show exhibitor,” I answered. “And using these competitions as a front to exchange stolen jewels for money.”

  Everyone in the room except for Charles gasped. Helen—who had spent almost this entire time looking down at her phone—looked up abruptly, her blue eyes round.