The Stolen Kiss

by Carolyn Keene

  Ned searched her eyes and a slow smile spread across his face. “You know what I love most about you, Nancy Drew?”

  She shook her head slowly.

  Ned put his hands on her face and tilted her chin up. “You don’t know how to lie. You always tell the truth.” Then he bent down and Nancy tightly wrapped her arms around him as they shared a kiss. After pulling apart, they strolled down to the end of the boat dock, and Nancy nestled her head in the crook of Ned’s arm. She felt as if she had finally come home. “Tell me about your case,” Ned said.

  When Nancy told Ned about the girl in art class, his eyes flashed. “I bet some student who’s nuts about Jared decided to pose as Kate just to get into his class.”

  “Maybe.” That was definitely a possibility.

  “And your suspicions about Bryan, Nancy. You’re way off track there.”

  Nancy didn’t answer. She wondered herself why she was so unwilling to cross Bryan off her list. She glanced at her watch. “We’d better get back.”

  When Nancy and Ned finally approached the Theta Pi house, they heard laughter spilling out onto the porch. “I’ll pick you up at nine, Nan,” Ned said. After kissing her on the cheek, he jogged back down the steps.

  Inside, the girls were modeling their costumes for one another. Certain she’d be spending the evening with Ned, Nancy was eager to join in the fun. Mindy, Chris, and Rosie were all almost dressed. Trish and Debbie sat curled up on a couch, both still in their robes. Beside Debbie was an opaque white garment bag.

  Debbie barely returned Nancy’s smile, and Nancy couldn’t blame her. She’d put Debbie through some pretty heavy questioning earlier. Nancy walked over to the coffee table and fished through Chris’s box of accessories.

  “Try these beads,” Chris suggested, handing Nancy a long strand of artificial pearls.

  “And this is definitely you,” Rosie said, plopping a beaded green cap on Chris’s dark hair. Chris’s green tunic skimmed her figure, showing off her curves.

  “Try on your dress, Debbie,” Mindy urged as she slipped into a pair of black heels. “I saw it when Trish brought it from the shop, but I’m dying to see it on you.”

  Debbie fingered the zipper on her garment bag and made a face. “Why bother? I’m not even sure I’m going to the party.” She blew her bangs out of her face. “I haven’t spoken to Bryan yet.” She stared at Nancy defiantly.

  “Come on, Deb.”

  “Mindy swears you’ll win the costume contest.”

  Debbie began to smile. “Even if I end up going stag?”

  “Stag?” Nancy repeated.

  “As I told you last night, Bryan and I aren’t getting on real well, and I’m not in the mood to spend a whole evening with him.”

  For a moment the living room grew quiet, then Chris giggled. “You won’t stay solo long at the dance.” She gave Debbie a friendly poke in the ribs. “Half of us are going stag anyway. It’s getting late. Put it on.”

  Chris plunked herself down next to Debbie and unzipped the bag on her lap. Nancy gasped with the other girls as the lamplight glinted off the jade green sequins. Debbie colored with pleasure and started to slip the dress off its hanger.

  “Ohhhh!” she screamed, and dropped the dress and hanger as if they were on fire.

  “Your dress!” Chris cried, jumping off the couch. The open garment bag slid off her lap and green sequins scattered over the carpet.

  Nancy picked up Debbie’s beautiful flapper costume. The dress dangled from the pink padded hanger like a bunch of glittery ribbons. Someone had taken a knife and slashed the dress to shreds.

  Chapter

  Eight

  WHY?” DEBBIE WAILED, COLLAPSING in a heap on the couch. “Why would anyone do this?”

  “Who hates you this much?” Nancy asked.

  Footsteps clattered down the stairs. “Hey, what’s going on down here?” George asked as she burst into the room. She was in her silver sheath. Trish was right behind her, an eye pencil in her hand. Only one of her large green eyes was made up.

  At the sight of the dress, George gasped.

  “I don’t believe this.” Trish took the dress from Nancy. “This time Rina’s gone too far.”

  “Hold it, Trish,” Brook warned. “You have no proof.”

  “Who else hates Debbie?” Trish tossed the dress aside. “And who was here when I brought the dresses in? Rina.” She gave the belt of her blue-and-white robe a jerk.

  George’s eyebrows shot up. Nancy cautioned her with a glance. “Calm down, Trish,” Nancy said quietly. “Tell me exactly what happened with the dress.”

  “Debbie and I bought our dresses last week at a vintage shop off Main Street,” Trish said. “They needed to be altered. I picked them up this morning. When I brought them back, a couple of girls were here—”

  “Who?” Nancy asked quickly.

  Trish thought a minute. “Juanita and Mindy. I showed them the dresses. Rina walked in just then. She said she really liked Debbie’s dress and saw me leave it in the front closet.”

  “And when did you take the dress to your room?” Nancy asked Debbie.

  “During a break this afternoon,” Debbie told her. “Trish left a note on my door saying the dress was in the closet.”

  “So anyone in this house could have read that note,” Nancy pointed out.

  “Yes,” Trish admitted reluctantly, “but only Rina would want to hurt Debbie.”

  Chris blew out her breath and frowned. “I can’t imagine Rina doing this.”

  “Me, either,” Debbie said, her voice quavering. “Besides, I know she didn’t.” Nancy barely caught Debbie’s last words.

  “How do you know?” Nancy asked quickly.

  “I just do.” Debbie blew her nose.

  “You know who did this, don’t you?” Nancy’s question stunned the room.

  “Of course not,” Debbie snapped.

  Trish gazed at Nancy as if she were crazy. Nancy shrugged, but she was convinced Debbie was shielding someone. Rina? But why?

  Debbie began to sob. Brook put an arm around her to comfort her.

  “It’ll be okay, Debbie,” Chris said. She picked up the box of her grandmother’s dresses. “You’re coming to that party tonight—no way you’re staying here alone. You can wear one of Granny Lula’s costumes.” Debbie raised her head.

  “Hey,” Rosie declared, “sorority sisters help each other out.”

  “Thanks, guys,” Debbie murmured.

  Nancy was frustrated by Debbie’s silence, but she was worried, too. “I don’t mean to be a party pooper, but this is a pretty violent practical joke.” She glanced at the dress. “Maybe we’d better lock the doors even during the day and keep the ground-floor windows shut.”

  The girls acted scared as they disbanded to get ready for the party.

  “Tell me about Rina,” Nancy said to Brook as they headed upstairs. “She doesn’t seem like the other girls in this sorority. I’m surprised she got pledged.”

  “She was a legacy, which means a relative was a Theta Pi. We had to take her,” Brook explained. “And I understand Rina’s aunt told her she’d pay her housing if she pledged—kind of a bribe. People do things for their own reasons.”

  Nancy nodded. Her work as a detective had proved that time and again.

  “After she pledged,” Brook continued, “Rina went her own way. She got along okay here—until Bryan and Debbie started dating. Then Rina acted as if we were all against her. I guess she’s angry at the world.”

  “Angry enough to slash a dress?”

  Brook shrugged. “I don’t know.” She glanced at the clock on the landing. “We’d better get moving,” she said, heading for her room.

  Nancy showered and changed and was ready to greet Ned when he showed up at the front door. Twirling, she showed off her short, black fringed dress, curls of her reddish blond hair peeking out from under a black cloche hat. “Like it?” Nancy asked.

  Ned poked his straw boater hat to the back of his head
and whistled. “I love it.”

  Nancy thought that Ned looked great, too. He was dressed in a white double-breasted suit, striped shirt, and red bow tie.

  When they reached the Omega Chi house, the party was in full swing. George had come earlier with Mindy and Rosie to help set up. She waved Ned and Nancy over to the buffet table, where she was serving punch.

  “Great party!” she shouted over the music.

  One of Ned’s frat brothers, Howie Little, strode up and pounded Ned on the back. He grinned at Nancy. “Hear you turned up just in time to play detective again.”

  Ned groaned as George handed him a cup of punch. “Tell me about it.”

  Nancy sighed. “Mysteries just seem to follow me.”

  “Don’t sound so sad about it,” Howie said. “Half the girls in this room would love to be in your shoes—lending a helping hand to our artist heartthrob.”

  Nancy felt Ned tense up and quickly stifled the desire to kick Howie. Instead she gazed up at Ned, batted her eyes, and said with sugary sweetness, “Oh, I thought you were going to say they’d love to be in my shoes because I’m here with Ned.”

  Howie threw back his head and laughed. “Since this is such a dependent relationship, I guess I’ll have to ask if I can borrow him a second. We’re having trouble with the sound system.” With that Howie steered Ned away.

  Nancy glanced around. Strobe lights had been hooked up to the ceiling fixtures. The flickering lights and dancing bodies made it hard to identify people. She did see Chris, which made her wonder which of Chris’s dresses Debbie had chosen to wear.

  Nancy spotted Bryan first. He was the only guy in the room not dressed in twenties-style clothing. He was wearing blue jeans and an EC T-shirt. Yellow and red lights flickered across his face and glinted off his earring. Debbie was half hidden in the shadows. A feather jutted up from her white headband, and she looked cool and elegant in a white feathery chemise. Nancy could see Debbie did not feel cool. Her cheeks were flushed, and her gestures were agitated.

  Nancy wove her way through the press of dancers until she could hear Bryan and Debbie. Nancy stood close to the couple, pretending to study a poster on the wall.

  “It’s over, Bryan. . . .” Debbie’s voice shook. “Why don’t you come out and say it—it’s my fault you lost your job.”

  “No,” Debbie insisted. “It’s just not working between us—you’d rather be rock climbing.”

  Bryan threw his hands up. “You’re jealous—”

  “Jealous?” Debbie sounded flabbergasted.

  “Of George. We went to the Climbing Wall.”

  “George? Nancy’s friend?” Debbie paused. Nancy winced. Then Debbie surprised her. “She’s nice, Bryan. More your type. I don’t mean to hurt you, but we just don’t have that much in common.”

  Nancy had heard enough. The conversation had nothing to do with her case. She turned to leave.

  “It’s since the robbery that we suddenly don’t have anything in common—” Bryan said. Nancy froze in her tracks.

  “Let’s not get into that again. I’ve heard enough about the theft of Michael’s painting from Nancy. She’s been following me as if I’m a suspect—and I know she suspects you, too,” Debbie warned.

  Bryan narrowed his eyes. “Why do you say that?”

  “Questions she’s been asking. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about the robbery now.”

  With that Debbie turned and walked off toward the kitchen. Nancy watched as Bryan marched right up to George and pulled her onto the dance floor. It was a slow tune, and Bryan wrapped his arms around George, pulling her close.

  “Hey, I thought he was dating Debbie?” Ned’s voice made Nancy turn around.

  “Not anymore.”

  “That was sudden.”

  “Wasn’t it?” Nancy said, wondering what kind of person Bryan was. First, he dated Rina, then switched to Debbie. Then minutes after Debbie dumped him, he was coming on strong to George. Did he really like George? Or did he think by making friends with George he’d have an inside track into Nancy’s investigation.

  Ned didn’t give her much time to think about it. The music had changed and the band was playing a Charleston. “Let’s cut some rug,” Ned said, using twenties slang badly.

  Nancy blew out her breath. Part of her wanted to see where Debbie had gone. Another part wanted to hang out with George and Bryan to figure what Bryan was up to. Instead she opted to dance with Ned. “You’re on, Nickerson,” she said, pulling him onto the dance floor. Nancy let herself forget all about her investigation and threw herself into a wild Charleston.

  Ned matched his energy to hers and soon they were the only couple on the dance floor. The whole room was clapping and cheering them on. When the music ended, the crowd roared. Nancy sagged into Ned’s arms and grinned.

  “We’re some team!” he shouted into her ear.

  Nancy was smiling so hard she thought her face might break. George, Chris, and Brook forced their way up to Nancy and thumped her on the back. “Great dancing, Nan,” George crowed. Nancy looked past George’s shoulder, expecting Bryan.

  “Where’s Bryan?”

  “Phone call” was all Nancy heard. Did that mean he had made or received one? Nancy headed for the foyer.

  Bryan was on the hall phone, his back to the room. Nancy joined the line outside the ladies’ room. “All right!” he shouted enthusiastically into the receiver. He pumped one fist into the air. “Monday night. My future is made.”

  Monday—that was when Bryan was having dinner with art collector Ian Sanders. Was he planning to sell First Kiss to Sanders? Nancy hoped to hear more, but Bryan hung up and joined a group of guys on the porch.

  Hours later the band played its last song. The lights were turned out, but Nancy and Ned still swayed in the circle of each other’s arms. “I hate to spoil a good thing,” Ned murmured, “but in case Ms. Sherlock Holmes hasn’t noticed, the music has stopped.”

  “The band, Ned, not the music,” Nancy whispered into the white linen of Ned’s jacket.

  “And to think,” Ned said huskily, “only this afternoon I thought I’d lost you to another guy.”

  Nancy leaned back and looked up at Ned. She couldn’t read his expression in the dark, but from the way he was holding her, she knew he was no longer worried.

  • • •

  That night Nancy couldn’t sleep, so she grabbed her notebook and tiptoed downstairs. She settled herself on a couch in the den and settled in to review her notes on the case. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she woke to a sound outside.

  Nancy rose and stretched her cramped limbs. Sunlight poured in through the windows. The day was already warm.

  Gravel crunched in the driveway as Nancy made her way to the window. A white Subaru was backing out to the street with Debbie in the driver’s seat. Next to her was a girl with spiky bleached hair.

  It was the girl from Michael’s art class.

  Chapter

  Nine

  NANCY RACED OUTSIDE, BUT Debbie’s car was gone. So Debbie did know the blond girl.

  Back inside, Nancy found Juanita at the kitchen table giggling over a comic strip. “Did you see Debbie leave?”

  “Uh-huh.” Juanita stretched and yawned.

  “Who was with her?” Nancy asked.

  “Nobody.” Juanita sipped her coffee.

  “Are you sure?” The kitchen windows looked out on the yard and the parking lot.

  “Sure I’m sure. Debbie headed out alone. Oh, breakfast’s not until nine on the weekend.” She put her cup in the dishwasher and left.

  Nancy was puzzled. How did Debbie sneak the girl past Juanita? Maybe Debbie’s room would provide some clues. Nancy knocked on Debbie’s door. No one answered and the door was locked—again. Nancy felt in her bathrobe pocket for a metal nail file. With the file she forced the lock open. Nancy went in and locked the door from inside.

  She knew she had to work fast. The room seemed to be exactly the same. If the blond girl was
crashing here, she was traveling light. No suitcase, duffel, or knapsack in sight. One desk was cluttered with notebooks, textbooks, and files. A mug with DEBBIE printed on the side was near the PC. The mug was full of pencils.

  Nancy opened a manila envelope next to the PC. Inside was a computer printout of classes for Debbie Lakin and forms for fall registration.

  Kate’s registration packet, Nancy remembered. Nancy turned quickly to check the other desk, and her elbow knocked over the mug of pencils. “Shoot!” Nancy exclaimed:

  Just then footsteps sounded in the hall.

  “I thought you said Debbie left?” Rosie’s voice floated through the closed door.

  “She did,” Juanita said.

  “Someone’s in there!” Rosie sounded terrified. “Nancy said to be careful.”

  Someone tried the door. “It’s locked.” Rosie sounded relieved. “Probably just a mouse. Better get Buki back on mouse duty.” Nancy remained perfectly still until the laughter faded down the hall. Close call, Nancy thought, and straightened up the mug and put the pencils back.

  Time was running out. Kate’s desk was neat. The calendar was still turned to June. Nancy tried the drawers. “Yes,” Nancy cheered softly. Kate Robertson’s registration packet was inside. Nancy riffled through it. She stopped when a familiar name caught her eye. Listed on a schedule of classes was Painting 204; Instructor, M. Jared. So Kate Robertson was registered, and someone else had showed up in her place.

  Nothing more of interest turned up in the desk. Nancy scanned the room once more, convinced she must be missing something. She caught a glimpse of something white stuck between a footlocker and bed. She took a closer look. It was a small painter’s canvas. She picked it up carefully. Her pulse quickened as she recognized herself in the gypsy costume she’d modeled for Michael’s class. She touched a corner of the canvas with her pinky. The paint was still wet. The painting obviously belonged to the blond, the girl Michael said was Kate Robertson.

  Nancy put the painting back and opened the footlocker. Inside was a small packet of art supplies. The shrink-wrap had been torn open, but someone had obviously tried to seal it again.