The Case of the Artful Crime

by Carolyn Keene

  “Okay. What’s wrong?” Bess asked.

  “I’ll tell you when I get back,” Nancy said, dashing out the front door.

  It was quarter to seven when Nancy pulled up the drive of the Wainwright estate, where she was stopped by a uniformed security guard holding a walkie-talkie. “I’m Nancy Drew,” she told the guard. “Mrs. Wainwright knows me. I need to talk to her.”

  The guard spoke into his walkie-talkie. Finally, he waved Nancy in.

  As Nancy continued up the long drive, she was astounded at the transformation of the place. With the help of a party rental shop, Shawn had done an amazing job. Tiny white lights strung from poles twinkled festively in the early evening twilight. White tents sheltered tables lavishly spread with food, and crystal glassware sparkled on each table.

  Nancy saw Shawn, dressed in his chef’s whites, directing a small army of waiters and waitresses he’d hired just for the occasion. He didn’t notice her, and she had no time to talk with him. She continued driving to the house.

  The butler, Conrad, answered the door. “Come in, Ms. Drew,” he said politely. “The guard informed Mrs. Wainwright that you were coming. Please wait in the foyer. She’s in the drawing room, talking with a gentleman at the moment. She’ll be with you shortly.”

  “A gentleman?” Nancy asked. “What did he look like?”

  “I couldn’t say, miss,” Conrad answered primly as he walked out of the foyer.

  In contrast to the hustle and bustle outside, the mansion was calm and still. As soon as Conrad was gone, Nancy hurried to the drawing room, where she’d met Felice the other day. Nancy peered through a crack between the high, sliding doors.

  Inside, Felice was talking with Harold Brackett! Felice looked like a princess in her strapless gold gown. Her blond hair was swept sleekly back and held with a gold bow. Brackett’s back was to Nancy.

  “I’m so glad you want to purchase both paintings,” Felice said. “Shawn Morgan sent you to the right place. You can make a check out to Joseph Spaziente, and after the auction you may take the paintings.”

  “I’d like them right away,” Brackett said, an edge in his voice.

  “All I’m asking is a few more hours so that my guests can view these paintings,” Felice said.

  “My dear woman, I want the paintings right now,” Brackett said in a low, cool voice.

  Nancy heard Conrad coming back. Quietly, she slipped through the opening in the door. Felice and Brackett seemed engrossed in their conversation and didn’t notice her.

  “That’s out of the question,” Felice said.

  “I’m sorry it has to be this way,” Brackett replied, his voice full of menace.

  This is getting scary, Nancy thought. I’m contacting security. She was about to slip back out the door when a sudden sharp cry from Felice stopped her.

  Brackett had pulled a gun from his pocket! Felice’s hand flew to her mouth as she stared at it in horror.

  Nancy sucked in her breath. She had to do something. A small shelf near the door held antique leather-bound books. The bookends were a pair of sculpted marble parrots. Using one hand to ease the books onto their sides, Nancy slid a parrot from the shelf. It felt heavy and solid in her hand as she moved closer and closer to Brackett.

  By now Felice had spotted her. For a twinkling, their eyes met, then Felice looked away. “All right,” she said to Brackett. “Take the paintings. Just don’t hurt me.”

  Nancy came up behind Brackett, barely daring to breathe. Steeling herself, she lifted the parrot high, ready to knock the man over the head.

  But just as her arm swung up, Brackett sensed her presence.

  Whirling around, he grabbed her arm and sent the marble parrot crashing to the ground. Reacting quickly, Nancy landed a swift kick sharply to his shins. Brackett cried out and tossed her into a row of folding chairs.

  Felice made a run for the door, but Brackett was too fast. He flung her back into the room.

  Brackett held the gun on Nancy and Felice as he backed to the door and slid it completely shut. Nancy hoped Conrad had heard the commotion, but she had seen him heading down the hall. He might be out of earshot.

  “Are you working with Auguste Spaziente?” Felice asked.

  Brackett threw back his head and laughed. “My dear lady. I am Auguste Spaziente. I’m flattered that my disguise fooled you so well.”

  “Who are you, really?” Nancy challenged.

  He bowed mockingly. “Alex Templeton, at your service.”

  Just then, there was a knock at the door. Templeton ducked to the side of the door and waved his gun at Felice. “Get rid of them,” he said.

  Felice slid the door open a crack, revealing Conrad. “I heard a clatter,” he said. “Is everything all right?”

  “Mr. Brackett just bumped into some chairs,” Felice answered in a calm voice.

  “Very good, ma’am,” Conrad said. “Oh, and Ms. Drew seems to have left the foyer. Did you speak to her?”

  “No, I . . . suppose she couldn’t wait,” Felice said. “Thank you, Conrad.” She slid the door shut.

  “Well done,” Brackett said, still training his gun on her.

  “Why do you want these paintings so badly?” Felice asked.

  “It isn’t the paintings he’s after,” Nancy told her. “It’s something hidden in the paintings.”

  “Clever girl,” Templeton said. He waved his gun at Felice. “I wouldn’t need the paintings at all if you could hand over the ruby to me.”

  “I can’t,” Felice said flatly. “It is in a safe upstairs, which is surrounded by an elaborate security system. Not even I can take it out without setting off all sorts of alarms. Every member of the security police I’ve hired for tonight would come running. Only the head of that team knows how to disengage the system.”

  “He’s not the only one,” Templeton sneered. “Guess who designed that system?”

  “You?” Felice asked incredulously.

  Templeton shook his head no.

  “Joseph Spaziente,” Nancy said quietly.

  “Bingo,” Templeton said. “You are a bright girl.”

  “Joseph was the one who helped you disengage that bank security system, wasn’t he?” Nancy prodded. “He’s some kind of whiz at security systems.”

  “You’ve done your homework. I’m impressed,” Templeton taunted. “Yes, Joe and I were on that job together. Unfortunately, he had the bad luck to get caught.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Felice said, looking pale and shaky.

  “Joe knows every inch of your security system. He used to work as an engineer for a big security company, and he designed your system before turning to his life of crime. When we heard you were auctioning off the ruby—well, it was just too tempting a chance to pass up.”

  “But Joe is in jail,” Nancy interjected.

  “Right,” Templeton said. “And all his mail is censored. He sent me a coded letter outlining the plan, but it would have been impossible for him to simply send me a map of the circuitry for the system. The authorities would have picked up on it in a second. And then, thanks to Mrs. Wainwright and her charming little art program, Joe came up with the perfect plan.”

  “He drew bits of circuitry in the tree bark on the lower left-hand corner of four nearly identical paintings,” Nancy said.

  “Spring, summer, autumn, and winter,” Templeton sang out gleefully. “He was so careful. If he mapped out the whole thing in one painting, some guard might have figured out what was going on. What Joe didn’t plan on was Mrs. Wainwright becoming such a big fan of his. He didn’t expect to have his work displayed in restaurants and this fancy mansion. He thought she’d just hand them over to his dear old Uncle Auguste. You’ve made my life very difficult, Mrs. Wainwright.”

  “So you tracked the first two paintings to the Arizona House and posed as the food critic Harold Brackett,” Nancy said.

  Templeton chortled with laughter. “I simply went to the restaurant to figure a way to get the painti
ngs. Then that dear coat-check girl—what was her name? Oh yes! Bess—she decided that I was the famous food critic Harold Brackett. And when I heard there was trouble at the restaurant—which, you may recall, I experienced firsthand—well, everything fell into place.”

  “Bess gave you the idea to vandalize the paintings?” Nancy asked.

  “I’m afraid she did. Someone was already wreaking havoc at the restaurant, anyway, so I merely joined the fun. I slashed the paintings and took the pieces I needed, figuring the real restaurant gremlin would get the blame.”

  Templeton paused and frowned at Nancy. “But I didn’t count on you gumming everything up. Every time I turned around, there you were. There seemed to be no getting rid of you. First you trailed me right into a car wash. I got soaked running out of that car in the middle of the wash cycle! Then when I arrived here as Uncle Auguste, I ran into you again. And now you’re here! What is it with you? Don’t you have a prom to go to, or something?”

  “It takes more than a threatening note and some Seconal in my water to scare me off,” Nancy replied.

  “Oh, yes, the Seconal. I wanted to keep the mishaps going at the restaurant, sort of a distraction to keep you from making the connection to the ruby. And, if it scared you a little, all the better.”

  “And you kept returning to the Arizona House, posing as Harold Brackett, to see if the fourth painting had turned up,” Nancy surmised.

  “It was a perfect cover,” Templeton said cheerfully. Then his expression grew serious. “Now, Mrs. Wainwright, I need you to remove the two paintings from the wall. I hate to be ungallant, but I don’t want to put my gun down.”

  Standing on one of the wooden chairs, Felice took the winter scene off the wall and laid it on the long cherry table. Then she climbed up on the table and removed the autumn scene. She placed it on the table next to the other painting.

  “Both of you stand together, right here where I can see you,” Templeton said, gesturing with the gun for Nancy to move closer to Felice.

  Templeton removed a utility knife from his pocket. With quick, decisive motions, he slashed two perfect triangles from the lower left corner of each painting. Then, placing the gun on the table beside him, he reached into his pocket and produced a small bottle of turpentine and a rag. He doused the rag with the turpentine and began wiping the triangles.

  “Perfect,” he mumbled to himself as he examined the intricate pencil marks revealed once the paint was wiped away. “I get it. This makes sense.” From inside his pocket he produced the first two triangles, which had also been wiped clean of paint.

  “I saw some strange lines among Joseph Spaziente’s notes,” Nancy said. “Was that a map of the circuitry?”

  “Give the lady a prize,” Templeton said. “Joe hid a diagram beneath each of the trees. Now I know exactly how to get through the security system. The fourth quadrant, hidden under the delightful winter scene, tells me how not to trip the invisible laser alarm. It looks like the Dragon’s Eye Ruby will soon belong to me.”

  “You really are insane,” Felice said defiantly. “Do you honestly think you can walk out with the ruby right under the noses of all these people?”

  “I’ve done it before,” Templeton replied. “And I am about to do it again.” He pointed with his gun toward a door at the far corner of the room. “Right now I’ll be stashing you ladies in the old servants’ quarters.”

  “I don’t have servants’ quarters,” Felice bluffed.

  “Call them what you will, but I know you have a boarded-up section at the back of the house. I saw it when I was here surveying the property last week.”

  “What?” Felice asked, looking both surprised and confused.

  “I’m sure you recall the night your alarm was tripped. I never start a job without first getting to know every inch of the place I plan to rob. Unfortunately, I didn’t have all the information I needed, and I tripped the alarm. I spent hours flattened in a shadow against your roof, waiting for the security guards to leave. What a dismal night that was. In any case, I found the perfect place to stash you two. Now please, start walking toward the door.”

  At gunpoint, Nancy and Felice walked through the door and up a narrow flight of stairs. Knowing they’d soon be trapped in some boarded-up room, Nancy decided it was time to make a move.

  “Oooph!” she cried out, pretending to stumble on the narrow stairway.

  “Get up,” Templeton snapped.

  Felice was ahead of her on the stairs. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I think I twisted my ankle,” Nancy moaned.

  As Templeton bent forward to check her foot, Nancy kicked him hard in the stomach. He grunted, but caught his balance against the wall. Nancy lunged for his gun. For a moment she thought she had it safely in her grasp. Then, with his left hand, Templeton grabbed her hand in an iron grip.

  The next thing Nancy knew, she and Templeton were tumbling down the stairs, both their hands still wrapped around the gun!

  13

  The Dragon’s Eye Ruby

  When they hit the first landing, Templeton fell hard on top of Nancy, knocking the breath out of her. He yanked the gun from her hand and staggered to his feet.

  “Playtime is over, ladies,” Templeton said angrily as Nancy pulled herself to her feet. “Now, up those stairs!”

  Bruised and discouraged, Nancy climbed the four flights behind Felice. Finally they entered a dark, narrow corridor with sloped ceilings.

  “Inside,” Templeton told them, pushing open the door leading to a small room with boarded-over windows. Nancy saw that the room was empty except for a freestanding pine wardrobe.

  Templeton’s eyes danced maliciously as he pulled a pair of surgical gloves from his pocket and wriggled into them. “I wouldn’t want to leave any messy prints on your vault,” he said, laughing.

  “Look what I found during my little exploration of your home,” Templeton added, holding up a skeleton key. “Thanks for leaving this on a hook for me. It locks every door on this hall.” With that, Templeton shut the door and locked it.

  “I certainly was a fool,” Felice said darkly. “There I was, thinking I was promoting the career of a great, new artistic talent.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Nancy said. “Right now we have to concentrate on getting out of here.” She pulled on the boards over the single window, but they wouldn’t budge. “Can you think of anything?” she asked Felice.

  Felice shook her head. “At least he didn’t hurt us. Don’t you think that’s strange, considering that we know what he looks like and we can connect him to Joseph Spaziente?”

  “It’s very strange,” Nancy said grimly. “He’s probably coming back—which is why we have to get out of here.” She rattled the door and studied the lock. Too bad she hadn’t brought along her lock-picking kit when she’d dressed for work. “You don’t have a hairpin, do you?” she asked Felice.

  “I’m afraid not,” Felice told her.

  Nancy slammed her hand on the door in frustration. “There’s got to be a way out!”

  Felice’s face brightened. “I’m not sure it’s a way out, but . . . ”

  “But what?” Nancy prodded.

  “Help me move this wardrobe,” Felice said. Together the two of them pushed the heavy piece of furniture. “There,” Felice said. Behind the wardrobe was a small cabinet built into the wall, its door held with a wooden latch.

  “What is it?” Nancy asked.

  “It’s a dumbwaiter,” Felice told her. “Way back when this house was built, the servants did live up here. The dumbwaiter leads straight down to the kitchen. There is an opening at every floor. It was used to deliver meals and whatnot to the various floors. It saved the staff from having to constantly run up and down the stairs.”

  Felice unlatched the door, and she and Nancy looked down the dark, narrow shaft. “Oh, dear!” Felice sighed. “The dumbwaiter box and the pulleys have been removed. I had hoped we could lower ourselves in the dumbwaiter. It was like
a mini elevator.”

  “But it’s wide enough for me to climb down,” Nancy said. “Give me a boost.”

  “No!” Felice gasped. “It’s a four-story drop. If you slip, you’ll be killed.”

  “I’ll hold on tight,” Nancy insisted. “It’s our only chance.”

  “You won’t be able to get in on the third floor,” Felice told her. “A bookshelf has been built over the dumbwaiter opening there.”

  “Then I’ll go down to the second floor,” Nancy said.

  Felice nodded. “That will open to my bedroom. There’s only a watercolor painting over that opening. A good push should be enough to open the door . . . I hope.”

  Summoning all her courage, Nancy climbed into the shaft. Slats of thin wood gave her something to clutch. The shaft was narrow enough so that Nancy could brace her back against one wall with her feet pressed against the opposite wall.

  “Be careful when you come out into my bedroom,” Felice added. “The room with the vault is right next door. Templeton may hear you.”

  “I’ll watch out for him,” Nancy promised.

  Moving inch by inch, Nancy slid along the shaftway. Every muscle in her body was tight with tension. By the time she reached the third floor, she was engulfed in darkness.

  Nancy kept descending. After what seemed an eternity, she came to the second floor opening.

  Stopping just above the door, she kicked it hard with the bottom of one foot. The kick threw her off balance, and she had to save herself by grabbing a slat of rickety wood. “One more time,” she told herself. Bam! She hit the door with all her might. There was a dull thud, and she knew the painting had fallen to the ground. With a creak, the dumbwaiter door fell slightly open.

  Nancy clutched the wooden frame of the opening and swung her legs through into Felice’s bedroom, listening for Templeton.

  Inside the house, everything was quiet. The lights and sounds of the party filtered through Felice’s lace curtains.

  Soundlessly, Nancy dropped to the thick white carpet. She stole to the open bedroom door and cautiously peeked out, then ducked back. Templeton was just slipping out of the next room. And in his gloved hand was a purple velvet bag.