The Stolen Kiss

by Carolyn Keene

  “You’ll find mine.” Bryan sounded nervous again. Nancy motioned Ned to stay outside. She stepped through the doorway, careful not to touch anything. Except for a few plastic bags of fertilizer, the shed was empty.

  “Is the door usually locked?” she asked, rejoining the others.

  “Yes,” Dr. Morrison answered for Bryan. “Even though there’s nothing valuable inside, we don’t want students hanging out on museum property.”

  “The thief probably knew Bryan’s routine,” said Nancy. “And he—or she—had cased out the museum facilities like the shed.”

  “Considering the thief made off with the most valuable painting in the collection, I’d say this was the work of a pro,” Dr. Morrison added.

  Bryan’s eyes went wide. “You mean Jared’s First Kiss? They stole that?” Bryan looked at Debbie for confirmation.

  Nancy followed his glance. Debbie was hovering near the wall of the storeroom. She nodded bleakly. “The one I showed you yesterday after hanging the show.”

  “Bryan, how do you get past the security system?” Nancy inquired.

  “With this.” Bryan fished a little plastic card out of his pocket. “It deactivates the system.”

  “The system was off,” Dean Jarvis explained to Bryan.

  “Not when I made my last rounds,” Bryan said firmly. “The security company will vouch for that. Whoever turned off the alarm and opened that window did it after I was locked in the shed.”

  Dr. Morrison broke in. “When you were in the storage room checking the inventory, Debbie, did you open the window?”

  Debbie was so pale Nancy was sure she would faint. “I don’t remember—really.”

  “We’ll check the storeroom for prints, too,” said the sergeant, taking the fingerprint kit from his partner and starting for the shed.

  “Why bother with the storeroom window?” asked George. “Isn’t it too small to get a painting through?”

  “The painting’s small, too.” Debbie sounded weak. “It’s only nine by twelve inches.”

  So they couldn’t rule out escape through the storeroom, Nancy realized. That meant Debbie really could have been involved. The window was tiny, but so was Debbie. Though in that suit she could scarcely scale a wall to the skylight. She could have handed the painting to someone outside, though. Bryan? But why bother with breaking the skylight and going through windows, if Debbie could get in and out of the museum by turning off the security system?

  “If you don’t need me,” Dr. Morrison said, “I should put in a call to the insurance company.”

  “I’ll come with you, Geoff,” Dean Jarvis said. “Debbie, I want to speak with you inside.” Dr. Morrison’s tone was curt.

  “Things don’t look too good for her,” murmured George, so only Nancy could hear. Nancy nodded. George had worked with Nancy on enough cases to know that everyone was a suspect until the real culprit was found. So far the evidence was strongly pointing to Debbie—with or without an accomplice.

  Nancy tried to organize her thoughts. “The roof,” she said out loud. “Sergeant Weinberg, okay if we check out the roof?”

  “Sure, Nancy. Just keep me posted.”

  Nancy motioned Bryan to join their search of the roof. “You know the building, so you might spot something that we’d miss.”

  A moment later they had ascended the narrow staircase leading from the back hall of the museum to the emergency exit on the roof.

  The tarred flat roof was littered with branches, twigs, and other debris. Nancy stooped down to inspect the broken skylight. Glass shards jutted out from the edge of the frame, the points glittering in the moonlight. Bryan aimed his flashlight on the skylight. “Don’t touch anything,” Nancy warned. “There might be prints, and that glass looks dangerous.”

  Lying beside the window were some climbing gear and a hammer. Using a tissue, Nancy gingerly picked up the hammer, careful not to smudge any potential prints. George identified it as a climbing hammer, used to scale rock walls.

  Nancy reached down through the skylight with it and was just able to snare the rope. She lifted it up and into the beam of their flashlight.

  As the climbing line came into view, Bryan caught his breath. Nancy turned around. Bryan looked shocked—but only for a moment.

  “Is something wrong?” Nancy asked.

  “No, nothing. It’s just that it’s a new rope,” Bryan said casually. “I’m surprised someone left it and the other stuff behind.”

  “Maybe Dean Jarvis and Dr. Morrison arrived just as the thief was making his getaway. He’d have to leave the gear then,” George suggested. “It’s pretty expensive to replace, though.”

  Nancy rested the rope on the edge of the skylight and shifted back on her heels. She noticed a small scrap of paper she hadn’t seen before. It was a ticket stub from a campus concert given by the rock group EC, Environmental Confusion, the Friday night before.

  “Ned,” she began thoughtfully, “have you had any very windy days since Friday?”

  Ned laughed. “No way. It’s been dead calm.” She showed Ned the ticket stub. “How would this blow up on the roof with no wind?” she asked.

  “Maybe the thief dropped the ticket,” George suggested.

  “Just what I’m thinking.” Then she added cautiously, “Or a worker who had reason to be on the roof.”

  “Still, it’s something,” Ned said.

  “We’d better tell the sergeant what we found. He’ll bag the evidence and dust for prints later. Actually we’ve gotten some pretty good leads,” Nancy said. “The ticket stub, the climbing apparatus, the new rope.”

  When the group returned to the entrance hall, they found Dr. Morrison confronting Debbie, whose face had gone from pale to beet red. “I can’t believe you’re firing me. It’s not fair. I didn’t steal the painting.”

  “That’s not the point. You were working late without permission. You forgot to reset the alarm. The thieves probably got in from the roof, not the storeroom, but you did leave that storeroom window open. Until this is cleared up I don’t want you in this museum. So get your things and leave now, please.”

  Debbie glared up at him, then turned and stormed down the hall to her office.

  Nancy felt sorry for the girl.

  Sergeant Weinberg came up to Bryan and asked him to retrace the route of his security rounds. Before Bryan left he asked Ned to wait for Debbie and walk her back to the Theta Pi house. “She doesn’t have a car here and it’s pretty late.”

  “No problem,” said Ned.

  Soon Debbie returned carrying a cardboard box. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, but she held her head high as she marched past Dr. Morrison. The foursome walked out of the museum and headed for Greek Row.

  They had just reached the Theta Pi house when a beat-up green sedan screeched up the drive, heading for the sorority parking area.

  “Whoa, who’s that driving?” Nancy asked.

  “Rina O’Neill,” Debbie answered, and a second later a slender girl in black leggings and a black sleeveless tunic came around the side of the house. She wore a black beret pulled down at an extreme angle over her long red hair.

  “Hey, Rina, how’s it going?” Ned called out as he put Debbie’s box down on the top step of the porch.

  Keys in hand, the girl strode past them all without answering. She completely ignored Ned but managed to glare at Debbie. She unlocked the front door of the sorority house, walked in, and slammed the door hard behind her.

  “What was that about?” Nancy asked.

  Debbie plopped down next to her box. “Rina’s got it in for me for a couple of reasons. She used to be Bryan’s girlfriend—in high school—and then Bryan and I started dating over the summer, and now . . .”

  “She blames you for breaking them up,” George supplied knowingly.

  “Not that things are that great with me and Bryan, either . . ..” Debbie’s voice trailed off. “He’s a great guy, but we don’t have that much in common.” She made a tripod with
her elbows on her knees and dropped her chin into her hands as she stared across the broad tree-lined street. A moment later she continued. “He’s the outdoorsy type. I’m more a museum person. While Bryan rock-climbed this summer, I taught art history at the McKinleyville halfway house for runaways—”

  “You teach runaways?” Nancy’s impression of Debbie changed as Debbie told them about teaching high school kids. Debbie became animated, sure of herself, and not at all like the scared little girl Nancy had glimpsed back at the museum.

  “Maybe that’s what you should do when you graduate,” Ned suggested. “Instead of being a curator.”

  Debbie’s smile flickered out. “As if I have a choice now,” she said bitterly. “No museum is going to hire a person who’s been within a light-year of an art heist.”

  Debbie stopped talking, and the foursome sat in silence a moment. Finally Nancy spoke up. “Debbie,” she said, “you mentioned Rina was angry with you for a couple of reasons. Bryan was one. What’s the other?”

  Debbie leaned back against a porch pillar. “Rina didn’t win the Emerson art contest. I was one of the judges—Dr. Morrison and Michael Jared were the others.”

  Nancy thoughtfully chewed on her lower lip as Debbie went on. “I’ve heard about how you helped the Theta Pis before. Please help me. If you don’t clear my name, my career will be over. Please find that painting.”

  “I’m sure going to try,” Nancy said. “If you remember something—no matter how silly it may seem—about tonight or about the painting, let me know.”

  “I will.” Debbie rose, shoving her hands into the deep pockets of her silk suit jacket. “But I had nothing to do with the theft. You have to believe that.”

  “I’ll do my best to solve this mystery” was all Nancy could promise.

  George picked up Debbie’s box and followed her inside, saying she was ready for bed. As the door closed behind them, Ned took Nancy’s hand and tugged her down the steps. “Where are we going?” Nancy whispered, not quite sure what Ned had up his sleeve.

  “Remember—this is supposed to be our fun weekend,” he said. “And just because mysteries have a nutty way of tracking you down, that doesn’t mean I’m going to lose out on the fun part. A pig-out at I Screams counts as fun—no?”

  “Definitely!” Nancy lifted herself up on her toes to kiss him. They held each other a minute, then drew apart. Nancy searched Ned’s eyes. All she saw was love. Still, she was worried. George’s warning about taking Ned for granted had struck a nerve.

  “Ned, how do you feel about my detective work?” Nancy asked as they turned the corner of Greek Row onto Emersonville’s main commercial street.

  Ned waited until they were in line at the icecream counter before he answered. “I could say I, don’t care. Or that I think it’s great—because part of me does—really.”

  “But it bothers you,” Nancy realized as they moved up in the line. “You’re disappointed I took on this case.”

  His shoulders tensed up slightly. “Yes, I guess I am. I thought for once we’d have a weekend together without your running off every five seconds checking out some clue—” Ned shrugged, heaved a sigh, and looked down at Nancy.

  “Oh, Ned. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to turn it down.”

  “I know.” Ned stepped up to the counter and ordered. He handed Nancy her frozen yogurt and grinned. “Let’s just enjoy what time we do have.” As they headed back past the stately houses on Greek Row, he draped his free arm over her shoulder. “I guess it’s my luck to have fallen for a girl who’s got a really crazy talent for solving mysteries. It’s probably part of why I love you.”

  Nancy didn’t hear what he said next. She leaned into his chest and gave a contented sigh. Ned had said the magic words. He did love her, and she loved him. What else mattered?

  • • •

  Nancy woke up with a jolt. For a moment she had no idea where she was. The sound of someone breathing across the room jarred her memory. It’s Ned’s fraternity party weekend. That’s Chris Harper in the other bed, and I’m sharing her room. Nancy plumped up her pillow and closed her eyes to go back to sleep. She was startled wide awake by a noise.

  Out of bed in a flash, Nancy tiptoed to the window, trying not to wake Chris. Looking out, she saw a shadowy female figure throwing pebbles at the house. It was probably a sorority sister locked out. After groping in the dark for her lightweight robe, Nancy threw it on over her T-shirt and headed downstairs.

  She crept quietly past the original cook’s room, which was now a bedroom, and noticed the light was on in there. When she reached the back door and opened it, the yard was empty. “Hello?” she called out softly. Nancy heard nothing except the chirp of crickets.

  She looked up to the second floor. All the bedrooms were dark. Where had the girl gone?

  Back inside, Nancy knocked at the door of the ground-floor bedroom. After a minute Debbie answered. “Nancy? What’s up?”

  “I saw someone in the yard. She was throwing pebbles at the house—I figured at your window. Was someone locked out?”

  “No,” Debbie replied curtly. “I’d have heard—I’ve been up reading.” Debbie began to close the door in Nancy’s face. “Look, it’s late. I’ve got to get some rest, it’s been an awful night.”

  Before Nancy could respond, Debbie closed the door firmly.

  Nancy was wide awake now. Quickly she sorted through the facts. If Debbie was awake, she had to have heard the pebbles hitting the house.

  Why was she lying, and what had happened to the girl in the yard?

  Chapter

  Three

  READY?” GEORGE ASKED, POKING her head into Nancy’s room the next morning. Nancy was at the mirror, touching up her makeup before breakfast.

  “Almost.” Nancy returned George’s smile in the mirror. “You look great!”

  George was wearing khaki shorts and a peach halter top that set off her creamy complexion. Nancy had chosen a short denim skirt and a pink tank top.

  “Thanks. You, too,” said George.

  As Nancy dabbed on lip gloss, she told George about the mysterious visitor the night before.

  “Debbie’s hiding something for sure,” George agreed. “But right now I don’t care. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

  Downstairs, Brook Albright, Rosie Lopez, and a couple of other sorority sisters Nancy knew from previous visits to Emerson were already at the huge dining room table.

  “Over here!” Chris Harper, Nancy’s roommate, yelled. “I saved you a couple of seats.”

  Nancy grinned back at the tall dark-haired girl. “Great. Did you remember to save some of those famous Theta Pi biscuits for George?”

  “The only reason I tagged along,” quipped George.

  Chris laughed. “Don’t say that so loud. The Omega Chi guys think you came for them and the party tonight.”

  “Forget the boys, stick to the biscuits,” Brook joked with a toss of her wavy auburn hair. “More predictable.” She introduced herself to George and asked Nancy, “What brings you to Emerson this time?”

  “Another case?” Rosie asked, pulling in her chair so Nancy and George could pass by and get to the sideboard. Nancy poured herself some coffee and selected a muffin from one of the serving plates.

  “Yes and no,” Nancy said. “I came for the Roaring Twenties party at Omega Chi.”

  “But her plans changed,” George said, heaping her plate with sausage and biscuits.

  “Don’t tell me,” Brook gasped. She tapped the copy of the local morning paper lying open beside her on the table. “The museum robbery.”

  “And you’re already in the middle of it.” Rosie sounded impressed.

  “Guess I missed the scoop. I was asleep before you got in last night.” Chris slid her chair down to make more room for Nancy.

  Nancy sipped her coffee. “What’s the paper say?”

  Brook frowned. “That a painting called First Kiss was stolen last night. But there aren’t any pictures of the
painting. Only of the gorgeous painter. Not that I’m complaining.”

  Nancy and George laughed.

  “Do you think Debbie knows about the robbery?” asked Rosie, biting into a muffin. “The Jared exhibit was Debbie’s special project.”

  At that moment Nancy heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw Debbie walk in, another sorority sister, Trish Hardcastle, following on her heels. To Nancy, Debbie looked exhausted. Her face was pale and drawn, and dark circles bruised the skin below her eyes.

  “Did you know the museum was robbed, Debbie?” Brook asked.

  “Yes,” Debbie said quietly. She took a plate and got in line at the sideboard.

  From her seat at the table Nancy observed Debbie closely. She was surprised by how much food the petite girl heaped on her plate.

  “Why, Debbie, I guess stress really perks up your appetite,” a cool voice said from the doorway.

  Debbie’s whole body stiffened. Brook and Rosie exchanged a glance. Nancy turned around. Rina was propped against the doorframe. She was dressed in skintight black leggings and a black tank top, and she was holding a large art portfolio at her side.

  “I heard about the robbery, Deb. Too bad.” Rina strode into the dining room and grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table. “But I guess it was about time your luck ran out.”

  “Rina!” Chris warned.

  Rina gave a careless shrug and wandered out of the room. A moment later the front door slammed after her.

  Debbie smiled wanly. “I’m not feeling well,” she said. “I think I’ll eat in my room.” She hurried off.

  “Big appetite for a sick person,” George whispered to Nancy. Nancy nodded. She thought about the mysterious visitor of the-night before and wondered if Debbie had had a guest for breakfast this morning.

  “Rina’s really getting out of hand,” Trish said, tossing back her blond pigtail.

  “Just be patient,” Brook responded. “Rina’s having a tough time right now. She hasn’t paid all her tuition money and I know she’s scared to death. The school won’t wait forever for it.”