The Stolen Kiss

  “Come on,” Ned said. “No one blames you.” But you’re still a suspect, Nancy said to herself. We’ve only got your word about being locked in the shed.

  “Why don’t you have lunch with us?” George suggested.

  Bryan lit up. “I could do that.”

  “Let’s try the new Art Café in the union.” Bryan made a face at Ned’s suggestion.

  “Is there a problem with the café?” Nancy asked.

  “No.” Bryan shrugged. “The café’s fine.”

  They walked down the ramp that cut through the center of the union and then took the stairs to the second floor. The Art Café was a dark cavelike room with walls covered with paintings.

  Nancy spotted the reason for Bryan’s hesitation: Rina. She was working behind the counter.

  As they filed past Rina with their trays, Bryan smiled tentatively at her. Rina didn’t smile back.

  “Nice seeing you, too, Rina,” Bryan muttered as he took his sandwich. With cool efficiency, Rina served Nancy next.

  “Does anyone mind if we eat outside?” Bryan asked after they’d paid for their food. “It’s a little tense in here.” The others agreed and made their way back down the stairs.

  When they reached the lobby Nancy said, “I’ll meet you guys outside.” She wanted to try Sergeant Weinberg again. Several phones were free, but Nancy had no change. Frustrated, she ran into the bookstore.

  The line at the cash register snaked ten deep down a narrow aisle, made narrower by bins full of art supplies lining the space. A supply list for Michael Jared’s painting class was posted over one bin. Nancy looked in, curious. She saw small shrink-wrapped packages labeled “Jared—Art Starter Kit” with the course number printed on the outside.

  “Pardon me,” a soft voice said as the line inched forward. Nancy let a tall girl with a red shirt squeeze past. She looked familiar. Of course, Nancy thought—the girl was Debbie’s friend, the one George had spied across the quad earlier. Nancy craned her neck, looking for Debbie, but she didn’t see her.

  The girl was in front of the art supply bins. After a quick check over her shoulder, she slipped a Jared class packet into her backpack and calmly walked out of the store.

  Debbie’s friend a shoplifter? Nancy forgot about her change and rushed outside after the girl.

  Chapter

  Five

  THE SUN BLINDED NANCY long enough for the girl to put some distance between them. She must have sensed that someone was watching her, because she suddenly took off, losing herself in the crowd. Nancy ran after her.

  Just then a horde of shouting, sweaty guys in shorts, T-shirts, and headbands charged across Nancy’s path.

  “Watch out, babe!” one of the guys yelled.

  Nancy circled around the pack of athletes, but by the time she was in the clear, the girl was gone.

  Nancy sighed. She wondered whether Debbie would be willing to identify the girl. Feeling frustrated, Nancy joined her friends.

  Ned was finishing his sandwich, and George was almost through with her shrimp salad. Bryan’s plate was totally clean.

  “Where have you been?” Ned asked, concerned.

  “Don’t ask,” Nancy said. “I never did get to call Sergeant Weinberg.” She described what had happened. “I’m sure it was Debbie’s friend.” Turning to Bryan, she asked, “Does she sound like someone you might have met?”

  “Not really.”

  Nancy was finishing up her salad when Michael Jared approached their outdoor table. Her stomach flipped over once.

  Nancy blushed slightly as Michael walked up, his eyes fixed on hers.

  “Hi, Nancy. George.” He turned back to Nancy. “Anything happening?”

  “Nothing yet,” Nancy said. Then she remembered Michael hadn’t met Ned or Bryan. She introduced them.

  “Sorry about your painting,” Ned said, shaking Jared’s hand. Nancy frowned. She detected a note of something—annoyance, jealousy, in Ned’s voice.

  “Thanks, man,” Michael said. Then he smiled again at Nancy. “So I’ll expect you at the studio at a quarter to three. You’ll need a few minutes to change for the modeling session.” He took off for the exit.

  “Modeling session?” Ned stared at Nancy. “I don’t get it, Nan. First you agree to help Dean Jarvis with this case. Then you decide to book whatever free time you have by posing for Jared.” Ned crumpled his napkin and tossed it onto his tray. “Exactly when do we see each other?”

  Nancy couldn’t believe the hurt in his eyes. “Ned,” she cried, “we couldn’t be together this afternoon, anyway. You have classes. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to talk to Michael.”

  “I’m sure it will,” Ned snapped.

  Nancy’s mouth fell open. “You’re jealous.”

  “Shouldn’t I be?” Ned said, pushing his chair back from the table. “You came here to spend time with me. But everything and everyone else has gotten top priority.”

  Ned tossed his paper plate into a wastebasket and grabbed his backpack. “See you guys later.”

  Nancy stared forlornly after Ned as he vanished into the crowd. George patted Nancy’s hand, then focused on Bryan. Nancy felt awful. She had just had a pretty serious fight with Ned in front of their friends.

  Nancy picked at her salad as she listened to Bryan tell George about a climbing trip he planned the next weekend to Indian Rock State Park. After a few minutes he started to talk about the theft.

  “What a bum deal for Mr. Jared. He’s a good guy.” Bryan twisted his gold earring. “But art collectors will do anything to get a painting they want. I know this one collector named Ian Sanders—I crewed on his yacht in the Caribbean.” Bryan tilted his chair back. “Now, there’s the life. I sure would give anything to be that rich,” he said dreamily, then shook his head. “What am I talking about? I’ll never have that kind of dough.”

  Nancy leaned forward and listened carefully as Bryan continued to describe Ian Sanders’s lifestyle. “He spent a million bucks for some little painting last year, just because he loved it.”

  “Ian Sanders,” George mused. “That name is familiar.”

  “Ian’s name is in the paper whenever there’s a bidding war on some famous painting,” Bryan said. “In fact, he happens to be crazy about Jared’s stuff and is coming to Emerson for the opening. He’s taking me to dinner Monday night.”

  Bryan pulled a pair of black in-line skates out of his backpack. “I’d better hit the road.” He stuffed his red hightops into his pack, changed into the skates, then turned to George shyly.

  “Nancy’s modeling at three. Are you busy?”

  George cocked her head. “No—not really.”

  “I was heading over to the Climbing Wall—that’s a climbing gym in town. Ever climbed before?”

  “Sure. I love it,” George said. “If Nancy doesn’t need me, I’d love to come with you. It’ll be fun.”

  “Great idea,” said Nancy. “Let’s call Sergeant Weinberg now and see what he’s found out.”

  George and Bryan set up a meeting place, then Bryan skated off across the quad. Nancy and George went in to the bank of telephones in the union lobby.

  Sergeant Weinberg was on another line so Nancy left a message that she’d call back in a couple of minutes. Then she phoned her father, Carson Drew, because she needed information on Dr. Morrison. She was hoping her dad knew someone connected with Chicago’s Cabbott Museum who could help them understand Morrison’s need for money. Reaching her father, Nancy briefed him on the case.

  “I do know someone on the Cabbott board of directors,” he said. “I’ll find out what I can. But I want you to be careful, Nancy.”

  “I will, Dad. Give my love to Hannah,” Nancy added, including the woman who’d been their housekeeper for the past fifteen years.

  Nancy tried Sergeant Weinberg again, and this time reached him. “I got your message,” the sergeant said. “And I have those names for you.”

  Nancy copied down the names and telephone numbers of the
three people who had purchased rope at Outdoors Unlimited in the last month—Arnold Salomon, Michelle Vasquez, and Bryan Barbour. “Bryan?” Nancy repeated.

  “That surprised me, too,” the sergeant admitted. “It’s probably just a coincidence, but since Bryan was at the scene of the crime, I’d like to know where his rope is.”

  “I’ll find out,” Nancy assured him.

  “If you’d check on all three purchasers, it would sure help me out, Nancy. I’m jammed up right now. Oh, by the way. The hammer and jumars were wiped clean of prints. If we’re dealing with an amateur, it’s a clever amateur.”

  After Nancy filled George in on her talk with Sergeant Weinberg, George’s face fell. “I wish you could rule out Bryan.”

  “Everyone’s a suspect,” Nancy reminded her. George nodded sadly. “I know. I just don’t want to believe he’s guilty.”

  “You’re starting to like him.”

  “I can’t help it. And I don’t think he’s really serious about Debbie either.”

  “She’s just about ready to give up on him, too,” Nancy said. “But he’s not free yet, George.”

  George gave a quick smile. “All I’m doing is going climbing with him. And it’s going to stay that way unless they really break up.” George leaned against the wall. “But he is cute, and fun, and—I don’t think he’s your thief, Nancy.”

  “I hope not, but meanwhile, I need your help, George. This afternoon at the climbing gym, try to find out if Bryan still has his climbing rope. I’U check with the other people Weinberg mentioned, Michelle Vasquez and Mr. Salomon.”

  “Okay,” George said, resigned. “But I bet you’re wrong about Bryan.”

  “Me, too,” Nancy admitted.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” George handed Nancy a slip of paper. “There are two more art galleries and one more sporting goods store—called Marshalls—in town,” George said. “And, by the way, Bryan gave me this information,” she added pointedly, and left.

  Nancy spent the next hour following up on Michelle Vasquez and Mr. Salomon. Unfortunately for Bryan, she was able to cross them both off her list of suspects. Both had had the store send the rope as gifts to people out of town.

  Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was almost three and had to race over to the art building. She felt a little nervous because she had never modeled before.

  Michael met her at the studio door, holding a small unfinished painting. “Hello, there!” He flashed Nancy a quick smile.

  Nancy’s heart was pounding as Michael led her down a narrow hall to a dressing room. The artist took a hanger off the rack and handed a gypsy costume to Nancy.

  Jared propped the painting he had brought with him up against the mirror. “Try to fix your hair as close as possible to the model’s in this painting.”

  “I’ll try.” Nancy couldn’t believe that her voice sounded so breathy.

  “Nancy, don’t be nervous, you’ll do great.” He reached out and squeezed her hand. Then he was gone.

  She stared at the closed door, amazed at her feelings. “Nancy Drew,” she scolded her reflection in the mirror. “What’s the matter with you? There’s only one guy in the world for you, and it’s not Michael Jared.”

  A few minutes later she walked into the studio. The students were already at their easels, and a chair covered with drapery stood on a little platform in the center of the room.

  At the sight of Nancy, Michael’s blue eyes widened. Nancy self-consciously smoothed the top flounce of her skirt.

  “This is Nancy Drew,” Michael told the class as he led Nancy to the modeling stand. “She’s filling in for Kelly today.”

  Nancy followed Michael onto the platform. As he was arranging the drapery on the empty chair, she spotted Rina. Nancy smiled at her, but Rina pretended not to notice.

  Michael told her to pose with one leg up on the chair and an elbow resting on her knee. Michael adjusted the angle of her head. This time Nancy couldn’t pretend she didn’t feel a thrill as he touched her. One of the students set a timer and the pose began.

  After a few minutes Nancy realized that remaining still was harder work than she’d expected. As she was glancing at the students out of the corner of her eye, she took in Rina. The redheaded girl’s mouth was pursed tightly as she glanced from Nancy back to her canvas and back at Nancy again. Nancy was pleased that Rina’s apparent hostility seemed to have vanished. Nancy recognized the expression of pure concentration on Rina’s face. It was the same sort of concentration Nancy felt when she was deep into a case.

  Meanwhile, Michael was circling the room, stopping at each student’s easel. He stood a moment behind Rina and frowned at her canvas. “No,” he said, just loud enough for Nancy to hear. “The color’s off. Try this.” He picked up a brush and mixed some colors together on her palette. He was about to touch the brush to her canvas, when Rina turned on him. “Don’t you dare touch my work.”

  Michael immediately backed off. Rina’s temper was beginning to impress Nancy.

  The timer rang, and Michael told Nancy to take a five-minute break. Just then a tall thin girl with short, spiky bleached blond hair walked in. She carried a sketch pad and wore denim overalls and an Emerson College T-shirt. Nancy’s first impression was that she seemed very young for college. Her second, even stronger, impression was that she had seen this girl before. But where?

  With an adoring expression the girl followed Michael behind a glass partition in the corner of the room. Nancy watched as she handed him some papers. He signed one, then she signed another and came out. Michael then helped her set up an easel, and Nancy resumed her pose, wondering who the latecomer was.

  After another half hour the students began packing up their supplies. Watching the latecomer, Nancy hazarded a smile. The girl’s eyes widened, but she didn’t smile back. She quickly packed her things and raced out of the room.

  “Great job, Nancy,” Michael said, offering her a hand to help her off the platform. He held her hand a second longer than necessary, Nancy thought. There was a tense silence. Nancy was the first to break it. “Hard work.”

  “I know.” He sat down on the platform and stared at the floor. “I worked really hard on that painting, Nancy. First Kiss.”

  Nancy wondered who the man behind that beautiful painting really was. She sat down next to him. He obviously needed to talk about his. painting and she needed to find out more about it.

  “Tell me about the painting—knowing more about it might help me find it,” she said.

  “What do you need to know?”

  “Was it a painting of people you knew or models or what? Might one of them have had a motive to steal it?”

  “Ah,” Michael said. “You’re good at this.” He studied his hands. When he looked up his eyes were sad. “The girl isn’t a model—she was someone I was very close to once. I tried capturing her many times on canvas, but First Kiss was the only time I succeeded. Now it’s gone.”

  Nancy impulsively reached out and touched his arm. Their eyes met. His eyes were filled with such sorrow Nancy thought her heart would break. Michael touched her face as if he wanted to kiss her. Instead, he pulled her into a close hug.

  “Nancy, please find it,” he murmured.

  The studio door creaked. Nancy slid out of Michael’s arms and peeked past his shoulder.

  She jumped up. “Ned! What are you doing here?”

  Chapter

  Six

  WHY AM I HERE?” Ned gasped. “I was looking for you. Sorry if I’ve interrupted something.”

  “It’s not what you think—” Nancy cried.

  “We were just talking,” Michael started to explain. “About the case. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble here.” . . . He rose and quickly disappeared into his office space behind the glass partition.

  “I’m sorry, Ned. I know how that looked—my hugging Michael. But it really isn’t what it seemed.” No matter what Ned might think, that hug had been innocent, consoling.

  ??
?I’m not that dumb,” Ned said, folding his arms. “Every girl on campus has a crush on that guy. But I didn’t think you’d fall for his sensitive-artist act.” He punched a fist against the door frame. “I thought I meant more to you than that.”

  Nancy glanced back at Michael, who was riffling through papers on his drawing table. “Ned Nickerson, you walked in here and saw me hugging Michael. Don’t you hug your friends—like George or Bess? Michael’s just a friend—”

  “Since when?” Ned charged.

  Nancy grit her teeth. “Since I took on this case and got to know him.”

  Ned arched his eyebrows. “I thought everyone was a suspect until you found the guilty party.”

  “Give me a break, Nickerson. Michael Jared wouldn’t steal his own painting. He’s got no motive.”

  “I could think of a few. . . .” Ned glared at Nancy. “Insurance fraud for starters. But motives are your department. Maybe when you stop making out with Michael long enough to get back to your case, you’ll be able to think of a few, too.”

  “That’s unfair!” Nancy cried, her face red with anger. “I only hugged him, Ned. But if you don’t trust me, maybe we should forget it.”

  “Suits me fine,” Ned growled, and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  “Okay!” Nancy shouted at the closed door. Then the reality of what had just happened hit her. Ned Nickerson had just walked out of her life.

  Nancy’s throat tightened and she felt as if she were about to burst into, tears. “Nancy?” Nancy hadn’t heard Michael come up behind her.

  Before she turned around to face him, she wiped away the tears that had started down her cheeks. Nancy didn’t cry much, but when she did, she cried in private.

  “You okay?”

  “Sure.” Nancy managed a weak grin. “I’m fine.” The glass partition probably cut out some of the sound from the studio, but still Nancy wondered exactly how much Michael had overheard. She started to blush.

  “I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you two.”