The Perfect Plot

  “So much for that,” she reported. “Leo Mallet is a mystery writer, a client of Bill’s. He just confirmed that they were on the phone together from noon until about one. Bill told him he was going to drive into the city, partly because he couldn’t think straight with all the construction noise outside his window. Mallet said that during some of the call, the noise was so bad that he could barely hear Bill. Bill showed up at Mallet’s apartment later in the afternoon. By the way, Mallet confirmed that Bill’s agency is not in good financial shape.”

  “He probably spent all his profits on that fancy sports car,” George joked. “What about the phone company?”

  Nancy shrugged. “I asked the operator to check for time and charges. There was a call to Mallet’s number yesterday at eleven fifty-eight. It lasted sixty-two minutes. What do you want to bet that Bill was planning to let the foundation pay for it?”

  George laughed, then quickly she became somber again. “So, we’re back where we started,” she said. “You and I weren’t here. Neither was Vanessa or Erika as far as we know, and Bill was gone. That leaves Patrick, Kate, Julian, and Professor Coining. Any of them could have sneaked into the study and stolen the figurines.”

  “If he or she knew how to get into the safe,” Nancy pointed out. “That’s no problem for Kate, she knows the combination. She could have been waiting to take the figurines until there were suspects around. But who else?”

  “What about Erika?” George suggested.

  Nancy nodded thoughtfully. “She did tell me she spent time here when Dorothea was alive. What if she sneaked onto the grounds before the time she said she got here? She could have used a secret passage to get into the house and take the jeweled figures. All she’d need was the combination to the safe.”

  George shook her head. “We’re not getting anywhere, Nan. Why don’t you call Chief McGinnis, and ask him to see if any of these people has a criminal record? You never know—one of them might be a safecracker!”

  “Can’t hurt to try.” Nancy picked up the phone again and punched in the River Heights Police Department number. It took her a while to convince Chief McGinnis that it was urgent, but he finally agreed. Nancy sat with the handset on her lap, tapping her fingers on the table, until he came back on the line.

  “Thanks, Chief,” she said a few moments later.

  “Well?” George asked. “Does one of the guests have a criminal record?”

  Nancy nodded excitedly. “One of them served time in prison a few years ago as part of a burglary gang. And guess what his special talent was—cracking safes!”

  George’s jaw dropped. “So we’ve found our crook! Who is it Nan?”

  “It’s Julian. Julian Romarain, of Murder to Go!”

  Chapter

  Nine

  GEORGE LOOKED flabbergasted. “Julian?” she said. “A safecracker?”

  “An ex-safecracker, as far as we know,” Nancy corrected. “But he apparently has the skills to have broken into Dorothea’s safe and stolen the figurines.”

  “I noticed that there was something between him and Kate,” George added. “I bet they planned the theft together, and that’s why Kate didn’t want to call the police last night.”

  Nancy frowned. “I noticed the connection between them, too, but why would Kate need to use a safecracker? She’s the only one around who knows the combination to the safe.”

  “Oh—I forgot,” George said. “Well, maybe they’re not in it together, but she figured out that he’s the thief. If she’s in love with him, she might try to shield him from the police.”

  “Even after he murdered Maxine?” Nancy asked. “If the two crimes are connected, that is.”

  Nancy got to her feet. “The only way we’re going to straighten this out is to confront him—or her.” She put the cordless phone back on its base and started for the door.

  “Who do we talk to first?” George asked, as they headed down the hall.

  “Whoever we find first,” Nancy said.

  • • •

  Kate was in the study, sitting behind Dorothea’s desk and making notes in the margin of a computer printout. The late-afternoon sun shone on her face, emphasizing the lines of tiredness and stress. She raised her head as Nancy and George came in.

  “Can we talk for a minute or two?” Nancy asked.

  Kate hesitated before answering. “I—will it take long? I’ve got a thousand details to take care of. Armand is coming down tonight with some important donors.”

  “Just a minute or two,” Nancy repeated. She and George sat down in two chairs next to the desk. Taking a deep breath, Nancy got straight to the point. “How well do you know Julian?”

  Kate stiffened. “Why do you ask?”

  “Do you know about his personal history?” Nancy pressed.

  “I know that he was once in trouble with the law, if that’s what you mean,” Kate said, her chin held high. “But he paid for his mistakes, and his past is nobody’s concern but his.”

  Clearing her throat, George said, “You did ask Nancy to investigate the theft of those jeweled figures. If one of the suspects is a convicted safecracker, I think that his past becomes her business.”

  Kate’s face was still, almost expressionless. Then unexpectedly she dropped her head into her hands and began to sob. Nancy and George sat in an uncomfortable silence and waited for the storm to pass.

  Finally Kate took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and said, “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been dreading this moment since last night when we discovered the gold figurines weren’t in their case. I knew Julian’s record would come up sooner or later. And I knew that the moment it did, he’d be accused of the theft.”

  “Are you and Julian, er, close?” asked George.

  Kate sighed. “Not nearly as close as I’d like,” she replied. “I know he cares about me, but he’s always brooding about his past. He told me we can’t get involved because it might ruin my reputation. It’s so ridiculous! Okay, he made a mistake, a bad one. But he’s put that behind him. He started his own business, and it’s totally legal. Who cares what happened years ago?”

  Nancy couldn’t help feeling sorry for Kate. “How did you two meet?” she asked.

  A smile crossed Kate’s face. “Dorothea was one of the first experts Julian talked into coming to one of his Mystery Weekends. We went to this creaky, spooky, old resort hotel. Dorothea loved every minute.”

  “Did Dorothea know about his past?” George asked.

  Kate scowled at her. “You can’t leave it alone, can you?” she demanded. “As a matter of fact, she did. Julian told her. And she was fascinated. She asked him to come here one weekend and give her a lecture-demonstration on how a professional opens a safe. She went on to write a wonderful safecracking scene in her next book.”

  “I read that!” George exclaimed. “It was in The Golden Circle.”

  Nancy gestured with her head to the cabinet that concealed the safe. “Is that the safe he gave her the demonstration on?”

  Kate’s face hardened again. “Yes,” she replied. “He managed to get it open in under five minutes. But I’m telling you, Julian did not steal those figurines. And neither did I. If chasing after us is your idea of conducting an investigation, I’m sorry I asked you to help.”

  “You wouldn’t have thought we were very good detectives if we’d ignored a possible lead like this, would you?” George asked.

  “I guess not,” Kate admitted reluctantly.

  “I have to warn you,” Nancy added. “By now Lieutenant Kitridge must know about Julian’s record, too.”

  “Lieutenant Kitridge?” she asked in a shaky voice. “But he’s working on Maxine’s murder. He’s already solved it. Erika killed her.”

  “She was just taken in for questioning. She hasn’t been arrested, as far as I know,” Nancy pointed out.

  “If only Julian would trust me!” Kate burst out. “I know I could help him prove his innocence. But he won’t talk to me at all.”


  Nancy thought George was thinking the same thing she was. Maybe the reason Julian wouldn’t talk to Kate was that he didn’t want her to know he was still a crook.

  With a groan, Kate went on, “How am I supposed to think about throwing a party at a time like this?”

  “Party?” George said, her eyes lighting up with interest.

  “This evening, after dinner,” Kate explained. “The mystery costume party. It was supposed to be one of the big events of the conference. Didn’t you see it on the schedule?”

  “Sure,” Nancy said. “But I thought the whole conference was postponed.”

  “It was. But we’ve got tons of extra people coming to the party,” Kate said. “The United Mystery Fans from Caldwell College are all coming in costume. We even hired a rock band called the Skeletons. I wanted to cancel, after everything that’s happened. But Armand said we had to go ahead. He’s bringing some major donors down from Chicago for it.”

  Picking up her pencil, she added, “I’m sorry to be rude, but I have to get back to work. Maybe it’ll take my mind off my real problems—like what’s going on with Julian.”

  • • •

  The costume party took place in the ballroom of Mystery Mansion, an enormous space that took up one entire end of the west wing. Crystal chandeliers sparkled, and tall glass doors led out onto a terrace where Chinese lanterns flickered.

  George adjusted her trench coat and fedora hat. “Do you think anyone will know I’m supposed to be Sam Spade?” she asked.

  “Definitely. And I’m sure they’ll know who I am,” Nancy said, adjusting her cape and deerstalker hat. She’d already spotted two other Sherlock Holmeses, but still felt her choice was right for her.

  Nancy’s foot started moving to the beat as the band, all dressed in skeleton costumes, began playing a song with a driving beat. She was glad to see a lot of younger kids in costume—obviously they were from Caldwell College.

  A dark-haired guy dressed as a Keystone Kop asked George to dance. As her friend moved onto the dance floor, Nancy heard someone calling her. “Nancy, I’d like you to meet Armand Wasserman, the president of the Burden Foundation,” Kate said as she and Armand joined Nancy.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Nancy,” Mr. Wasserman said. “Kate tells me you’re trying to get to the bottom of the—the awful things that have happened here.”

  “I just hope I can solve the mysteries,” Nancy said truthfully.

  Kate and the foundation president moved over to a group of conservatively dressed people. Nancy guessed they were the donors Kate had mentioned.

  “Ah—Holmes! You’re just the one I’ve been searching for.”

  Nancy turned to the stranger and laughed. She was peering at a mirror image of herself, except the other Holmes costume was worn by a cute blond guy. He asked her to dance. On the dance floor she saw that most of the other Mystery Mansion guests were also dancing. Professor Coining, dressed as the famous mystery author Ellery Queen, was spinning Vanessa around. The party was definitely easing the tension that had been caused by Maxine’s murder and the theft of the figurines.

  After half a dozen dances, Nancy excused herself and went to the refreshment table to get something to drink. George was there with Patrick, who looked like a 1930s gangster, in his double-breasted pinstripe suit and white spats.

  “No, we’re not really satisfied,” Nancy heard George say as she came up. “Nancy called the police before we came down to the party, and they said they’re just holding Erika overnight for questioning—not officially charging her.”

  Nancy was about to caution George not to talk about an ongoing investigation, when someone spoke up behind her.

  “Anybody need anything from town tomorrow morning?” Bill Denton asked. “I’m going to go in first thing for the Sunday papers. I want to see what kind of coverage our mystery is getting.”

  “No, thanks,” Patrick said coolly. George and Nancy shook their heads. As Bill walked away, Patrick added, “He probably hopes the publicity will make more people buy Aunt Dotty’s books. I wonder if he ever thinks about anything besides his ten percent?”

  Before Nancy could comment, Professor Coining came over to them, his brow beaded with perspiration. “Which one of you two ladies would like to dance?” he asked expectantly.

  “No, really, I—” Nancy began as she was led out onto the dance floor.

  The next half hour was a dizzying succession of twists and twirls. Nancy had to admit it was kind of fun, though, and the professor was a great dancer.

  During a complex maneuver that involved having her arms wrapped around her in two different directions, she noticed Julian slipping out one of the french doors to a terrace at the front of the house.

  What’s he up to? she wondered.

  It took her a few moments to excuse herself from the professor, but finally she was able to grab a flashlight from her purse and hurry out to the terrace. Peering past the long facade beyond the construction, Nancy saw what might have been Julian entering the summerhouse.

  She hurried across the lawn. As she neared the summerhouse, she began to move silently. She crept up to one of the windows, cautiously boosting herself up to peek inside.

  “What?” she said to herself, blinking. The summerhouse was empty!

  Nancy sprang to the door and opened it. A Chinese lantern outside the door cast fantastic shadows over the table and the built-in benches that lined the walls inside. There was no place to hide, unless—

  Nancy tugged at the seat of the nearest bench. It swung up to reveal a croquet set. Under the others she found badminton rackets, a wicker picnic basket, a deflated soccer ball, a beach umbrella, and two glow-in-the-dark Frisbees.

  Only one bench refused to open. She studied it, then felt along the underside. Nancy became excited as her fingers touched a button. When she pressed it, the seat released and sprang up. She found herself staring down a dark shaft with rungs set into a stone wall.

  “So this is where Julian disappeared to,” she murmured to herself.

  She switched on her flashlight and swung herself over the side of the bench to scramble down the ladder. She counted the rungs as she went. At twenty, her feet touched rough pavement.

  Somewhere up ahead, footsteps echoed. Pointing the tiny beam into the blackness, Nancy hurried along a damp, brick-walled tunnel that curved and dipped confusingly. Other tunnels branched off on either side—or was she now following one of the branches? She wasn’t certain anymore.

  Stopping and listening intently, she no longer heard the footsteps ahead of her. It seemed impossible, but they were behind her now. Nancy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Someone was following her!

  A moment later her flashlight flickered once, then died. Oh, great, Nancy thought. She shut her eyes tightly, hoping that would help her to adapt more quickly to the darkness.

  All at once she froze, hardly daring to breathe. Wasn’t that the scrape of a shoe on pavement she heard, somewhere very near?

  She licked her lips and called out, “Is somebody there? Who is it?” Her voice echoed in the darkness.

  The only answer was a low, evil laugh.

  Chapter

  Ten

  THE MAD LAUGHTER swelled and echoed, bouncing off the walls from what seemed like four directions at once.

  Nancy’s instincts took over. She ran, keeping her left hand lightly resting against the wall and her right arm stretched out in front of her. She only hoped there weren’t any holes or staircases!

  The tunnel twisted and turned, until she lost all sense of direction. She was panting loudly now, and the pounding of her shoes on the irregular pavement made it impossible to hear if her pursuer was gaining on her.

  Soon Nancy began to sense, if not quite see, the shape of the passage ahead. It curved to the right and began to slant upward. Then, around the curve, there was light, streaming in from a side passage. Nancy ran along the new passage and saw a red door set into the side wall, a dozen feet away.
The door was slightly ajar.

  Nancy stopped, leaned against the wall, and tried to catch her breath. Then she concentrated on listening. From up ahead came a low hum, like the sound of many distant voices, and the rhythmic thump of an electric bass. From behind her there was only silence. Her pursuer must have given up the chase.

  Creeping up to the door, Nancy peeked through the gap. On the other side was a small room she had never seen before. It was furnished with a metal desk and a row of gray metal file cabinets. The ceiling light was on, but the room was empty. Nancy pushed the door open and stepped through. When she closed the door behind her, she saw that it wasn’t a door but a bookcase. Only someone who was looking for it would have noticed that one of the middle shelves could be pushed in half an inch to release the latch on the concealed door.

  Nancy went to the door of the room and opened it into Dorothea’s study. Nancy hurried across the darkened room and through that door to the hall. She was eager to reach the ballroom to see who was there and, more importantly, who wasn’t.

  Back in the ballroom, the lights were down and the Skeletons were playing a slow number. The lead singer was swaying at the microphone with his eyes closed. Seeing couples dancing close made Nancy wish that Ned Nickerson, her steady boyfriend, were here. She’d give anything to be dancing with him right now.

  Come on, Drew. You’ve got a mystery to solve, she thought, mentally shaking herself. She carefully surveyed the room and spotted Julian near the windows, dancing with Kate. Bill was with a woman Nancy didn’t recognize. Vanessa was on the sidelines, talking to Armand Wasserman. George was dancing with Professor Coining.

  Where was Patrick? Then she saw him at the far end of the room, dancing with a college girl who had come dressed as Vampira.

  Nancy frowned. There was nothing to tell her who the person down in the tunnel had been. The obvious suspect was Julian. Maybe he had noticed her following him, hidden in a side passage until she went by, and then come after her. It was certainly possible. Then again, she’d had a strong impression that Julian had been some distance in front of her when she first heard someone behind her.