“Hi, Brenda,” Nancy said. “You found some stuff to buy, huh?”
Brenda tossed her brown hair over her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess. I was going to buy that ballerina painting, but I can’t find it anywhere. Did someone else already buy it?”
“Actually, it’s kind of missing,” Nancy admitted.
“Missing!” Brenda let out a mean-sounding laugh. “Boy, you guys aren’t very good at your jobs, are you? You can’t even keep track of the merchandise.”
“So you haven’t seen it?” Nancy asked her.
Brenda gave Nancy a funny look. “Seen it? What are you talking about? I haven’t seen it since Alison and I were looking at it with all of you.”
Brenda said goodbye and headed for the front porch. There, Mrs. Ramirez, Bess, and George were busy taking money from people. Nancy was about to dig through another cardboard box when she felt a hand on her elbow.
“Excuse me. You haven’t seen the ballerina painting, have you?”
It was the artist Luna Lamotte. She was holding a different painting in her arms: the painting of the Greek goddess Athena.
“I’m going to use this in my collage,” Luna explained, nodding at the painting. “But I also decided that I wanted to use that ballerina painting, too. I’m going to call the piece ‘Women, Girls, and Goddesses.’” She smiled at Nancy. “So do you know where it is? The ballerina painting, I mean?”
“Um, we sort of can’t find it,” Nancy replied.
Luna raised her eyebrows. “You can’t find it? Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean, we can’t find it,” Nancy repeated. “It’s been lost . . . or stolen.”
Luna looked upset. “Oh, I hope not. It’s a very nice painting.” She added, “If it turns up, will you let me know?”
“No problem,” Nancy said.
After Luna Lamotte left, Nancy poured herself a cup of cranberry juice at the refreshment table and took a big gulp. Her thoughts were racing. What could have happened to the ballerina painting? Could someone really have stolen it? But who?
As Nancy finished up her juice, she noticed a girl from her school checking out her blue parka. It looked as if the girl might buy it. Nancy was glad. That meant that she would have enough money to buy the gold pen with the N on it.
Then she saw Mr. Morris standing by one of the card tables, inspecting an old silver pocket watch. He was also talking to a woman. Nancy recognized her as one of the Ramirezes’ neighbors.
“Garage-sale items that might seem worthless to most people may actually be very valuable,” Mr. Morris was saying to the woman. “For example, there was a rhinestone pin someone bought at a Pennsylvania garage sale for two dollars. It turned out to be made of real diamonds. And there was a painting someone bought in California for twenty dollars. It ended up selling for a million dollars at a New York City auction.”
“A million dollars!” the woman exclaimed. “My, that’s a lot of money! I guess I should take a look around and see if I might be able to find something valuable, too.”
“It takes a good eye and a great deal of patience,” Mr. Morris stated. “I wrote about that in my column, ‘Trash or Treasure?’ last week. Of course you read my column, don’t you?”
As Nancy listened to Mr. Morris talk, she had a thought. He was the last person she had seen with the ballerina painting. He might know something about where it was.
But just then Nancy was distracted by a strange sight.
Brenda was heading down the sidewalk, away from the Ramirezes’ house. She was carrying something in her arms—something wrapped in a black garbage bag. It was big and flat.
Maybe it’s the ballerina painting! Nancy said to herself.
4
The Plot Thickens
Nancy started running in Brenda’s direction, but Brenda had had a big head start. She was almost to the corner already.
“Brenda!” Nancy yelled, waving her arms. But Brenda didn’t seem to notice her. “Hey, Brenda—oof!”
Nancy’s foot caught on something, and she went flying to the ground. She landed in a heap on the grass.
“What was that?” she said out loud. She rubbed her elbows, then rose to her feet.
Nancy turned around to see what she had tripped over. Behind her on the grass was an upside-down cardboard box. CD’s had spilled everywhere.
“Oh, great,” she muttered. She glanced in Brenda’s direction, but Brenda was gone.
Nancy thought about trying to find her but changed her mind. She had to put the CD’s back in the cardboard box.
Five minutes later Nancy walked up to the front porch, where Bess, George, and Mrs. Ramirez were collecting money. Bess held up half a blueberry muffin. “You want part of this, Nancy?” she said between bites.
“No, thanks,” Nancy said. “I have a question. Did any of you just sell something to Brenda?”
“Brenda Carlton? I don’t think so,” Mrs. Ramirez replied.
“Something big and flat?” Nancy asked.
“No. But let me double check.” Mrs. Ramirez flipped through the copies of the receipts. “I was right. There are no receipts here made out to Brenda.”
A bunch of customers appeared just then, wanting to pay for their merchandise. Bess, George, and Mrs. Ramirez got busy helping them out. Nancy wandered away, her thoughts racing like mad. If Brenda didn’t buy anything, then it was even more likely that the package had contained the ballerina painting.
Could Brenda really be a thief? Nancy wondered. Had she wanted the ballerina painting that badly?
• • •
“Wow, we made a fortune!” Rebecca exclaimed. She waved a wad of bills in the air. “Three hundred and ten dollars!”
It was five o’clock, and the last of the customers had just left. Rebecca and Mrs. Ramirez were adding up the money in the cash box. Then they checked the amount against the paper receipts. Nancy, Bess, and George were packing up some stuff nearby.
The sun was still shining brightly, even though it was late in the day. As Nancy worked, she glanced around the Ramirezes’ yard. It looked really pretty, with all the daffodils, tulips, and other spring flowers. She wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead. She was hot and tired, but it was a nice kind of hot and tired because she’d had fun working at the sale.
Mrs. Ramirez punched some numbers into a calculator. “That’s strange,” she said, frowning. “We have three hundred and ten dollars in cash, right? But I count only three hundred dollars’ worth of receipts.”
“No way.” Rebecca counted the cash again. After a moment, she said, “Yup, it’s definitely three hundred and ten dollars.”
“Maybe one of us forgot to make out a receipt or two,” Mrs. Ramirez said thoughtfully. “It’s not a big deal, really, except that we need to make sure we give all the sellers the money they’re due.”
Ten dollars, Nancy thought, listening to Mrs. Ramirez. Now, why did that number ring a bell?
• • •
“So you think Brenda stole my ballerina painting?” Bess asked Nancy.
Bess, Nancy, and George were walking over to Brenda’s house on their way home from the Ramirezes’. Nancy had told George and Bess about the big, flat package she’d seen Brenda carrying. Nancy really wanted to ask Brenda about it.
“I don’t know,” Nancy said in answer to Bess’s question. “Maybe. Brenda did say she might want to buy the painting for her room. What if she decided, you know, to beat out the competition by just kind of stealing it?”
“What competition?” George piped up.
“Well, there’s Bess,” Nancy replied. “And Luna Lamotte said she wanted the painting, too. And there could have been other people.”
They soon reached Brenda’s house. Nancy went up to the door and knocked. There was no answer.
“Try the doorbell,” George suggested. Nancy rang the doorbell: once, twice, three times. There was still no answer.
“I guess no one’s home,” Nancy said with a sigh.
“Too bad we can
’t just go in and look for the painting ourselves,” Bess said.
“Ten dollars!” Nancy said suddenly. “That’s the price of the ballerina painting!”
Bess rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s the price of the ballerina painting. I’ve only been talking about it all day long.”
Nancy shook her head. “No, I mean, what Mrs. Ramirez was saying. Okay, listen to this. What if Brenda or somebody took the ballerina painting without letting anybody know? But then the person slipped ten dollars into the cash box when you guys weren’t looking?”
George nodded. “I get it. That way, it wouldn’t seem like it was really stealing.”
Bess slapped herself on the side of the head. “I just thought of something, too. I was going to tell you guys earlier, but I totally forgot about it.”
“What?” Nancy asked her curiously.
“That man, Mr. Moore . . . Morrison . . .” Bess began.
“Morris,” Nancy said.
Bess nodded. “Right, Morris. Anyway, remember how he told Luna Lamotte that the ballerina painting was no good? Well, after she left, I saw him looking at the painting. I mean, really looking at it.”
“I saw him doing that, too,” Nancy said.
“Did you see him looking at it with that bizarre magnifying glass, though?” Bess asked her. “He was going over the whole painting with it as if he wanted to buy it. Which is weird, because of what he told Ms. Lamotte.”
Nancy fell silent. She thought about Mr. Morris’s strange behavior. Had he been hiding something? Nancy wondered. Was he the thief and not Brenda?
5
The List of Suspects
Pass the cheese, please!” Nancy said. “And the guacamole. Oh, and the sour cream, too.”
It was make-your-own-tacos night at Nancy’s house. Hannah Gruen, the Drews’ housekeeper, had taco night at least once a month. Hannah had taken care of Nancy ever since her mother had died five years earlier.
Nancy’s father, Carson Drew, picked up the bowls of grated cheese, guacamole, and sour cream and passed them across the table to Nancy. Nancy had already heaped a bunch of chicken, lettuce, and tomato chunks into a crunchy taco shell. Now she added the other ingredients.
“That’s your third taco, Pudding Pie,” Mr. Drew said with a smile. “You must be awfully hungry.”
“Working at the garage sale all day must have given you an appetite,” Hannah said.
Nancy bit into her taco, which was stuffed and really gooey. It was delicious. “Yup. Plus, I have a new mystery to solve, too.”
Mr. Drew chuckled. “I should have known. It seems as if you can’t go anywhere without running into a mystery. You’re a regular mystery magnet, Pudding Pie.”
“So tell us—what’s the mystery?” Hannah prompted her.
Nancy put down her taco and wiped her mouth with a napkin. Then she told her dad and Hannah the story of the missing ballerina painting.
When she finished, Mr. Drew steepled his hands under his chin and said, “Hmm, sounds like an interesting case. Do you have any suspects so far?”
Nancy nodded. “Brenda’s my main suspect. She wanted to buy the painting. Plus, I saw her carrying that package from the Ramirezes’ house.”
“The package could have been something else,” Hannah pointed out.
Nancy shrugged. “I guess. But it was flat like the painting and kind of the same size, too.” She added, “My other suspect is Mr. Morris.”
“I love that column of his, ‘Trash or Treasure?’” Hannah said enthusiastically. “I have an old map of this area that used to belong to my grandfather. I didn’t think it was worth much, but then Mr. Morris did a column on maps a few months ago. According to him, maps like mine can be worth a couple of hundred dollars, maybe even more.”
“Why do you suspect Jamison Morris, Nancy?” Mr. Drew asked her. “He’s a fairly respected man around these parts—you know, being a journalist and an antiques expert and all.”
Nancy took another bite of her taco and chewed thoughtfully. “Mr. Morris told Luna Lamotte that the painting was worthless,” she said finally. “But then I saw him looking at it again. And Bess told me later that she saw him looking at it a lot, with some sort of special magnifying glass.”
“So let me get this straight. You think he wanted the painting for himself. But he told Luna Lamotte that it was worthless so she’d lose interest in it?” Mr. Drew said slowly.
Nancy nodded. “Uh-huh. I heard him talking to this lady about how stuff at garage sales can sometimes turn out to be worth lots of money. He even mentioned some painting that someone bought for twenty dollars. It turned out to be worth a million dollars!”
She added, “What if Mr. Morris thought that the ballerina painting was worth lots and lots of money? Maybe he decided to steal it before anyone else could buy it.”
“Interesting theory,” Mr. Drew remarked. “Any other suspects? You mentioned that Luna Lamotte wanted the painting, too, right?”
“Right. Hmm. I guess I should add her to the suspect list, too,” Nancy said, nodding.
Hannah got up from the table and started to clear the dishes. “Dessert, anyone? I made a strawberry pie, and I think we have some vanilla ice cream in the freezer.” She grinned. “Or are we all too full of tacos?”
“We’re never too full for your strawberry pie—are we?” Mr. Drew said, winking at his daughter.
Nancy winked back. “No way.”
• • •
Later that night Nancy put on her favorite pink nightgown, brushed her teeth, and washed her face. Then she went to say good night to her father and Hannah.
Mr. Drew was in his study going over some work. “Have you solved the mystery yet?” he asked Nancy, his eyes twinkling.
She kissed him on the cheek. “Not yet, Daddy. But I’m working on it.”
After saying good night to Hannah, Nancy went to her room. She got her special blue notebook out of her desk. The notebook helped her to organize her thoughts whenever she was trying to solve a mystery.
She got into bed and snuggled under the covers. She opened the notebook to a blank page and thought for a moment. Then she began to write.
“The Case of the Missing Painting,” she scribbled. Under that, she wrote: “Suspects.” She skipped a line and added: “Brenda Carlton: Wanted the painting for her room. Was carrying a garbage bag with something big and flat in it. Mr. Morris: Bess saw him looking at the painting with a magnifying glass. Might think the painting is worth a lot of money. Luna Lamotte: Wanted the painting for her collage.”
Nancy stopped writing and glanced around her room. She thought about how Bess wanted the ballerina painting for her room, and Brenda, too. She thought about Karen Koombs, who had also been at the garage sale that morning. Karen had mentioned that she was totally redecorating her room with a ‘60s theme.
Nancy liked her room just as it was—she couldn’t imagine selling any of her furniture, or buying anything new either.
“But I guess I might change my mind someday,” she told herself. She imagined all the different themes she could choose for her room: a unicorn theme, a flower theme, a wild animal theme.
“Or maybe even a mystery theme,” she said, giggling.
She turned her attention back to her blue notebook and read over her new entry several times. She felt as though she was missing some important piece of the puzzle—something obvious. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Her eyelids were starting to droop a little. It was late, and she had to be at the Ramirezes’ bright and early for the second day of the garage sale.
“Maybe I’ll be able to figure it all out tomorrow,” she murmured sleepily to herself. Then she closed the blue notebook, put it on her nightstand, and turned out the light.
• • •
“It looks like it’s going to rain,” George remarked.
It was Sunday morning. Nancy, Bess, and George were walking over to the Ramirezes’ house. While Saturday had been bright and warm and sunn
y, this day was different. The sky was gray and full of clouds, and the air felt thick and damp.
“I talked to my parents, and they said they’d give me five dollars toward next week’s allowance,” Bess told her friends. “I have two dollars, so I just need three more to buy the ballerina painting. There’s just one problem . . .”
“The painting’s gone.” Nancy stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “Maybe we should talk to all our suspects again: Mr. Morris, Luna Lamotte, and Brenda. Especially Brenda.”
“Why don’t we try her house again?” George suggested. “Maybe she’ll be home this time.”
“Good idea,” Nancy agreed.
The three girls turned the corner and crossed the street. They soon reached Brenda’s house.
They started to walk up to the Carltons’ front door. But something caught Nancy’s attention.
“Look!” she exclaimed, pointing.
Brenda was hurrying across her backyard. And she was carrying the big, flat package from the day before!
6
A Scary Noise
Nancy went running up to Brenda. George and Bess followed. “Brenda! Hey, Brenda!” Nancy called out.
Brenda stopped in her tracks. She glared at Nancy and her friends. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked suspiciously.
“We want to know what’s in that package,” George said.
“This?” Brenda set the package down on the grass and stared at the three girls. “None of your business!”
“It’s the ballerina painting, isn’t it?” Bess blurted out. “You stole it from the garage sale!”
“What?” Brenda looked as if she didn’t believe what she was hearing. Then she burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, right?”
Nancy, George, and Bess exchanged glances. “Uh, no, not really,” Bess said. “Nancy saw you taking that package from the garage sale yesterday.”
“You’re crazy!” Brenda cried out. “This is not the ballerina painting.”
Trash or Treasure? Page 2