The Case of the Lost Song

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The Case of the Lost Song Page 7

by Carolyn Keene


  friend's tape afterward. My musician friend has

  recording equipment at a club not far from Jason's

  digs.”

  Nancy couldn't believe her ears. Had Jason really

  kept quiet and not even told his own brother? Or was

  Ethan playing dumb?

  “I can't wait to hear it!” he said enthusiastically. “I

  mentioned it to a couple of rock historians, and they

  said that it could be worth a pretty bundle.”

  Nancy stared at Ethan. His enthusiasm set off

  alarms in her mind. If Ethan was involved in the theft,

  that might explain why last night's burglary didn't

  match the others. Still, since Ethan had been at the

  party, he needed a partner in crime—someone with

  the know-how to break into Lisa's apartment.

  What about Inez—was there any chance Inez and

  Ethan's blowout was related to the robbery? Maybe

  both Inez and Ethan were involved. Before Nancy

  could mention it, the gymnasium speakers crackled to

  life.

  “It's now time for the second door-prize drawing of

  the day. The holder of ticket number 23928 is the lucky

  winner.”

  A woman behind Nancy shrieked, “I won. I won!” A

  cheer went up from the vicinity of the winner. Then

  Jason's voice rose above the general din. “Step back,

  step back, everyone. Let me get the lucky lady's

  photo.”

  Jason backed right into Nancy, knocking her carryall

  out of her hand. Everything spilled out.

  “Whoops! Sorry—oh, it's you, Nancy!” Jason

  apologized. “Let me help you pick up your stuff.”

  “Take your picture,” Nancy said, waving him off.

  “This is no big deal.”

  “Look! I knew it all along—that girls a shoplifter!”

  Wes's voice accused as someone gripped the back of

  Nancy's arm and yanked her to her feet. She found

  herself looking into the stern face of a security guard.

  Beside the guard, Wes stood glaring at Nancy.

  Wrenching his eyes from her face, Wes bent down

  and picked up Nancy's notebook, a blue print scarf, her

  car keys, and one last item—a familiar red-and-black

  box. Nancy instantly recognized it as Wes's missing

  fingerprinting kit!

  10. Pretty as a Picture

  Stunned, Nancy couldn't find her voice. She stared at

  the fingerprinting kit in disbelief. How had it landed in

  her bag?

  Nancy had no time to figure that out just then. She

  faced the guard squarely and declared, “Look, there's

  some kind of mistake here.”

  “I'd say so—a pretty big one,” Wes sneered. “Yours!”

  “You'd better come with me—quietly,” the security

  guard urged Nancy. “We don't want to make a scene,

  do we?”

  Nancy could have laughed out loud. Wes had

  shouted his accusations loudly enough to be heard

  clear out to the parking lot. Drawn by the commotion,

  a curious crowd was already clogging the aisle.

  Nancy ignored the gentle pressure of the guard's

  hand on her elbow and refused to budge. “I did not

  steal that kit from CrimeShoppers. I don't know who

  did, but whoever it was must have planted it in my

  bag.”

  Wes scoffed. “Sure, and the moon is made of green

  cheese.”

  “What's going on here?” George cried, elbowing her

  way to the front of the crowd. Relief swept over Nancy

  at the sight of her friend. Right behind George was

  Bess, and behind Bess, a familiar tall, dark-haired

  figure.

  “Ned!” At the sight of her boyfriend, Nancy could

  have cheered.

  “Nancy?” he gasped, staring first at Nancy and then

  at the security guard. “What do you think you're

  doing?” Ned asked the guard angrily. “Let her go now!”

  “Look, mister, you stay out of this. This girl was

  caught red-handed with stolen property.”

  “Stolen property?” Bess shrieked. “Are you guys

  nuts? Tell them, Jason. Tell them about Nancy.”

  “Look, blondie, stay out of this,” Wes commanded.

  “Wes,” Jason broke in. “I'm sure there's some

  mistake.”

  “Tell him Mr. Landowski will vouch for me,” Nancy

  urged Jason.

  “I'll try to find him,” Jason said, turning to go.

  “I'll page him,” the guard said. “Though just because

  the girl knows him doesn't prove she's not a thief.” As

  the guard punched a number in his pager, Ned sidled

  up to Nancy and squeezed her hand.

  “What's going on here?” he asked softly.

  “A lot's happened since last night. I'll fill you in

  later,” she murmured. “Here's Mr. Landowski now.”

  Eddie Landowski was pushing his way through the

  crowd. “What is going on here, Hugo?” he asked the

  guard angrily. Then he spotted Nancy and his eyes

  widened. “Nancy, what happened?”

  Before Nancy could open her mouth, Wes an-

  swered. “She was caught red-handed with goods she

  shoplifted from my table.”

  “That's crazy.” Mr. Landowski dismissed Wes's

  charge with a wave of his hand. “Nancy is no shoplifter.

  She's working for me. . . .”

  Nancy winced, inwardly begging him not to blow

  her cover.

  “Under cover, because some small items have gone

  missing, and I wanted her to check out shoplifters.”

  “Man, no one told me about this.” The guard looked

  annoyed.

  Mr. Landowski said curtly, “Well, now you know.”

  Wes looked disgruntled. “Look, Mr. Landowski, how

  do you explain this in her bag?” He showed Mr.

  Landowski the fingerprinting kit.

  “Maybe a real shoplifter planted it,” George sug-

  gested.

  “My thought exactly,” Mr. Landowski said. “Are all

  the parts still there?” he asked Wes.

  Wes nodded reluctantly. “You're not going to let her

  get away with this?” he fumed.

  Mr. Landowski held firm. “I'm sure this has to do

  with her ongoing investigation.”

  As the crowd dispersed, Nancy motioned for Ned,

  George, and Bess to wait up. “I've got to talk to Mr.

  Landowski alone, but then let's head back to the

  condo. You can follow us,” she told Ned.

  “I don't have a car. We drove up from Emerson in

  Russ's car. They dropped me off here to meet you.”

  “So we'll all leave together then.” Nancy dug in her

  purse for her coat check and handed it to George.

  “Why don't you get the coats, and I'll catch up with you

  by the front entrance.”

  When her friends left, Nancy pulled Mr. Landowski

  aside.

  “How did that kit get into your bag? I know you

  didn't steal it,” Mr. Landowski said.

  “Beats me,” Nancy said, feeling angry and used. “It's

  a good bet that whoever planted it is onto me.”

  “Do you have any leads?” Landowski asked, pushing

  up his glasses.

  Nancy shrugged. “Yes and no. I have a couple of

  suspects. But the clues are still too
vague to put to-

  gether. I'll update you later or tomorrow”

  “Just keep me posted,” Eddie Landowski told her. “I

  don't like the idea that someone is on to you. Things

  could get dangerous.”

  * * *

  Driving back to Lisa's condo, Nancy caught Ned up

  on events.

  “Your theory that whoever wants you off the case

  planted Wes's kit in your bag makes sense,” Ned said.

  “Any prime suspect?”

  Nancy slowly shook her head. “Not really. Just

  strong possibilities.”

  Propping her arms on the back of the front seat,

  George leaned forward. “When would someone have

  had a chance to put that kit into your bag?”

  The commotion at the porcelain appraisal table had

  given any thief the perfect opportunity to steal

  something, Nancy decided. “There was one chance

  when I was at Wes's table. And another when I was

  talking to Ethan a little later.”

  “So Wes was around,” Bess pointed out.

  Nancy nodded. “And who's to say he didn't plant the

  kit when lie brought the guard over. He picked it up

  off the floor—not Jason.”

  “Jason was there, too?” George remarked.

  “Come to think of it, Jason had two chances to plant

  the kit. I saw him near Wes's table before this

  commotion started in the crowd. And he was snapping

  pictures right before I dropped my bag.” Nancy

  paused. “I think he knocked into me.”

  “Not Jason,” Bess huffed. “No way. Though I

  wouldn't put it past his snobby brother.”

  “Who, by the way,” Nancy informed everyone, “still

  thinks he's going to hear the tape tonight.”

  “You didn't tell him it was stolen?” George asked.

  “More to the point, Jason didn't tell him,” Nancy

  observed.

  “Now, that's hard to believe,” George said. “If I had

  a twin, I'd let him in on the fact that the tape he was so

  interested in was lost.”

  Ned shrugged. “Maybe. But just because they're

  twins doesn't mean they get along.”

  “Good point, Ned,” Nancy said. “I'm not sure if they

  do get along, but I get the feeling that they aren't very

  close.”

  “So Ethan might or might not have known about the

  theft,” Bess said. “But if he did, then he should be a

  suspect.”

  “Believe me, Bess, I haven't ruled anybody out at

  this point,” Nancy said, pulling into the underground

  garage at Lisa's condo.

  “What gets me,” Ned said as they climbed out of the

  car, “is that the other items stolen are so different from

  the tape.”

  “Part of me thinks the theft of George's tape is just

  coincidental,” Nancy admitted as they waited for the

  elevator. She handed Bess the paper with the code to

  Lisa's apartment. “I've got to check out a couple of

  things with the staff here. Why don't you guys get

  changed. I'll be up in a few minutes.”

  Nancy jogged up a flight of stairs to the basement

  level and found the super repairing a screen in his

  workshop. She introduced herself as a friend of Lisa's.

  “Did you hear about the burglary last night?” she

  asked.

  “What burglary?” he said in a heavy Russian accent.

  “I cannot believe an apartment in this building is

  robbed. This place is like—what is the name of that

  place with all the money in it?”

  “Fort Knox,” Nancy supplied. “I hate to tell you this,

  but whoever broke in didn't have any trouble accessing

  Lisa's apartment.”

  “You mean apartment Twenty H?”

  “Yes,” Nancy said. “Do you know who has access to

  the door?”

  “You mean the code?” The super shook his head.

  “No one, unless the girl or her relatives gave it to

  someone. Sometimes people do give the code to

  someone, to water plants when they are away, or in

  case they forget it.”

  “How do you get in if there's a plumbing problem,

  or if some other emergency comes up when no one's

  home?”

  The super's smile faded. “You think I do this? All the

  time people think because I come from another

  country I am not honest. You police?” His eyes nar-

  rowed with suspicion.

  “No,” Nancy said quickly. “I'm not the police, and

  I'm not accusing you of anything. I just need to know if

  there's any other way into the apartment, or if someone

  can use your code.”

  The super shook his head vehemently. “To go into

  apartment if there is emergency, I use special code,

  like you say, and I need to have another employee of

  building with me. Also I have to let management know

  by phone that I am accessing apartment.”

  So the building security was tight, much as Nancy

  suspected. Nancy thanked the man and headed up to

  talk to the doorman. She remembered she hadn't asked

  the super who had rented the apartment next door to

  Lisa's. Well, the doorman might know, she told herself.

  What luck, Nancy thought as she approached the

  tall, uniformed man leaning on the concierge's desk,

  reading his newspaper. The same guy as the night

  before was on duty.

  He seemed to recognize her instantly. “Ms.

  Perrone's friend,” he said as she approached the desk.

  Good, Nancy thought, he remembers faces. Nancy

  glanced at his nametag. “Carl,” she said, “I don't know

  if Lisa told you, but last night something was stolen

  from her apartment.”

  Carl seemed amazed. “Last night? When? The

  police never came on my shift.”

  Nancy made a face. “No, and they aren't coming

  over. What went missing sort of falls into the category

  of petty theft, and I guess they have more serious

  crimes to investigate.”

  “I hope you filed a report at least,” Carl told her.

  “We did. But I wondered if you noticed anything

  suspicious last night—or late yesterday afternoon when

  we came in. Did anyone you didn't recognize follow us

  upstairs?”

  Carl shook his head instantly. “No—why?” He

  paused. “You think someone saw her punch the door

  code?”

  “Could be,” Nancy admitted.

  “I can't swear no one was lurking anywhere in the

  building—I'm not at the desk every minute. When I

  take breaks, I lock the front door.”

  Nancy walked over to the entrance. The building

  had two sets of doors. An outside door led to the

  elegantly landscaped drive that led to the front of the

  building. Just inside the door was a panel of buzzers. If

  the doorman closed the second set of doors, a tenant

  would have to buzz any guest in. “So when you're not

  here, people have to be buzzed in.”

  “Yessss . . .” Carl sighed deeply. “Unfortunately

  sometimes tenants have buzzed in strangers—in spite

  of the security camera that is tied in to each apartment.

 
Next to the intercom system is a little TV screen where

  a tenant can see who the visitor is.”

  “And people still buzz in perfect strangers?” Nancy

  was amazed.

  “It has happened, though I don't know that there

  have been any robberies as a result. The worst thing

  that's come out of it was some vandalism in the

  garage.”

  “But someone could have unknowingly buzzed the

  thief in?”

  “Yeah,” Carl conceded, “but how they'd crack the

  door code is beyond me.”

  Nancy started toward the elevator, when she re-

  membered. “Carl, one last thing. You know the

  apartment next to Lisa's—is it still vacant? She says

  someone sublet it recently.”

  “Um—yes.” Carl's tone became guarded. “A pho-

  tographer rented it—short term—like for a couple of

  days,” he added quickly. “Don't know much about it,

  though. You might ask the weekday guy.” Carl rushed

  to open the door for a tenant.

  Nancy continued to the elevator. Why was Carl

  uncomfortable talking about that sublet?

  Upstairs, she asked Ned. He had found his way to

  the kitchen and was microwaving popcorn. “Hey, in

  buildings like this there's a good chance he's getting a

  little something under the table to let the guy use the

  apartment,” Ned told Nancy. “Maybe it's not a real

  sublet.”

  Nancy nodded. “That would make sense—and I bet

  the super's in on it, too. Though if not, that means Carl

  knows the code to that apartment.”

  “And you're thinking that he might know the code to

  this one, too—that somehow Lisa's relatives had given

  it to him.” Nancy remembered the super had

  mentioned that people sometimes gave codes to

  neighbors, just as in a traditional building you gave a

  neighbor a key.

  “Could be.”

  “Oh, Ned,” Nancy complained. “Now I have to add

  Carl to my list of suspects. He might have helped

  someone have access to the apartment next door. I

  wish I could check it out somehow—unfortunately,

  that terrace door is locked, unlike Lisa's.”

  “Maybe you could break—”

  A terrible scream went up from the back bedroom,

  cutting off Ned's next words.

  11. Caught in the Act

  “Bess!” Nancy cried, rushing into Lisa's bedroom, Ned

  and George right on her heels. Bess was standing in the

 

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