08 The Magician's Secret (10 page)

I WANTED TO STAND NEXT
to Mr. Galloway, the locksmith, but the judge asked us all to keep back. Mr. Galloway turned the box over on the desk and raised a pair of pliers. Frowning, he rotated the box to one side, then the other.

“There's no latch,” he said, with a confused, blank expression. “No seams or obvious entry point.”

Mr. Galloway raised the box and looked like he was about to shake it.

“No!” Bess shrieked.

“What is your objection?” the judge asked Bess.

“Oh, please tell me the police never shook that box,” Bess muttered as she stepped up beside the locksmith.

“I don't know whether they did,” the judge replied. “Why?”

Bess explained, “The gems that are missing are very delicate rubies and emeralds. If they are inside and knocked together, it's likely they might get scratched. Or worse”—her eyes went wide with horror—“they might chip! The value of those stones is based on their condition.”

Judge Nguyen nodded and told the locksmith, “Be more careful.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he agreed. He continued to search for an opening to the box.

We all watched closely as time ticked away. Madeline Summers was getting impatient. By the way she was tapping her toe, I could tell she was ready to grab a hammer and open the box herself.

The carvings on the box continued to mesmerize me, especially as the locksmith rotated it and
sunlight began to stream in through the room's window. The brightness of the light striking the wood was hypnotizing.

That's when I saw it.

At an intersection where the two colors of wood met, there was a hole. It was smaller than the dart marks in Drake's hotel room and too tiny for any of the locksmith's tools, as far as I could tell.

I nudged Bess. “Can I borrow an earring?” I whispered.

She looked at me as if I was crazy. “This isn't really the time to play dress up,” she hissed.

“Please?” I held out my hand. She gave me a small pearl on a gold post. “Keep the back,” I said, pinching the pearl in my fingers.

“Uh, can I have a try?” I asked Mr. Galloway.

“If it's okay with the judge,” he said with a shrug. “I've never seen a box like this. Staring at it makes my head feel foggy.”

“Mine too,” I told him. “But it also gave me some clarity.”

“That's because it's a meditation mandala,” Drake said.

“Stop right there,” his lawyer put up a hand. “Not another word.”

“I think it's in the interest of the court if he speaks. Go on, Mr. Lonestar,” the judge prodded.

“The outside carving is for meditation. The ornate design is called a mandala. This particular design is meant to open one's heart and allow for profound insight.”

“Are you certain this box does not belong to you?” the judge said. “You seem to know a lot about it.”

“The box is not mine,” Drake said in a calm voice.

“I see,” the judge said. “Then you do not know how to open it?”

Drake shook his head. “No. Each box is uniquely created for the person who purchased it.”

Madeline Summers glared at him. Drake shut his mouth.

“May I try?” I asked.

“You seem quite certain, Miss Drew,” Judge Nguyen said. “Have
you
seen this box before?”

“No.” I said. “But after staring at the box for so long, I felt an odd spark of insight, and then I saw the keyhole.”

“Go ahead,” the judge told me.

“Can you open the curtain a bit more?” I asked Bess. The sunlight had moved, and I wanted it to fully illuminate the carvings. I had lost the keyhole for a moment, but as the sun hit the box anew, that tiny hole became so prominent that I couldn't believe no one had seen it before.

I took the end of Bess's earring and slowly pushed it into the pinhole. The box top opened along seam lines that had been previously invisible.

I felt a heated rush as everybody in the room crowded around me. All eyes peered past my shoulders into the empty space within that ornate box.

“Nothing,” Ned said with a sigh. “All this for nothing.”

“There's a false bottom,” Bess said.

“How do you know?” I asked her.

“There's always a false bottom,” she replied, grinning
at me. “Don't you pay attention to your own mysteries, Nancy?”

I laughed. It was true; whenever we came to a dead end, it was never
really
the end.

I searched the interior, which was made out of the same wood as the outside, beautifully polished but not carved. I tipped the box toward the sunlight.

“I don't see—,” I began, when George reached over my shoulder. She tucked her finger into a groove I hadn't noticed and lifted out a large piece of the wooden interior. Beneath that was, indeed, a hidden compartment.

I gasped. Inside were three glittering red rubies.

THEY WERE BEAUTIFUL. THE PUREST
red I'd ever seen. I had no doubt they were real. Bess reached in to touch one, but the judge stopped her.

“Wait. We need a forensic specialist to take a look at that.”

The judge told Officer Fernandez, “Officer, please bring Mr. Smallwood to the courthouse. We need to clear this up. The box was originally in John Smallwood's room, then it disappeared, only to reappear in Drake Lonestar's room. The resolution to this crime is somewhere between these two men.”

“On my way.” Officer Fernandez rushed from the room.

“Everyone else, stay put,” the judge commanded.

Bess pulled me away from the others. “Those stones are probably worth just enough to cover Gritty Grand's debts. This doesn't look good for Lonestar.”

George joined us. “But what about the other gems? There is another two and a half million dollars' worth of emeralds and rubies still missing.”

Bess glanced over her shoulder at Drake, who was conferring with Madeline Summers. “I don't think there's any way to avoid him going to jail. Even if they never find the other stones, so much of what we've discovered points to Drake as the thief.”

“I think that's the point,” I said. “It seems like a setup to me. With Drake Lonestar in jail, no one will question where the other gems are. They'll assume Drake took them, hid them, destroyed them, whatever.” I sighed. “Someone is planning to get away with the other stones . . . and knows it's likely that part of the mystery will remain unsolved.”

“Unless you solve it,” George said, putting her hand on my shoulder.

My head was spinning. No matter how many times I reviewed the evidence, it all came back to Drake. What was I missing?

There was one thing gnawing at me. . . . I hadn't had time to look up Harry Houdini's famous jail escape trick that George had mentioned at her house the previous day, and I wanted to know more. I asked George to tell me about it.

“It was 1904,” she said. “Houdini was already known for his handcuff escapes but had added jail escapes to his show when he was on tour. Once, at Scotland Yard, the chief constable asked him to do a trick on the spot, without any preparation. They locked him in a cell and triple-locked the door. Then they locked the iron gate leading to the cell block. Five minutes later, he arrived in a public hallway!”

“Amazing,” Bess said.

“Yes,” I agreed. “Are there theories of how he did it?”

“No one knows for sure,” George told me. “But
some say he might have visited the cell block earlier. Apparently, he had a kind of a wax that he could put in the locks, make a mold, then create a key to use later. The rumor is that he had a false sole on his shoe and hid the keys there.”

“But no one knows for sure?” I asked.

“There are guesses as to how he got the keys he needed, but they always come back to the fact that he had them,” George said.

“Thanks.” I was considering George's story when I heard a rattling sound and looked up to see Drake Lonestar staring directly at me, dangling a pair of handcuffs.

Madeleine Summers had a look of horror on her face. “What are you doing?” she hissed at him.

“Mr. Lonestar,” Judge Nguyen said sharply. “May I ask why you have a pair of handcuffs in your possession?”

“A magician never leaves home without them,” he replied with a chuckle. He again fixed me with his intense stare.

And just like that, I was certain that Drake Lonestar was not the jewel thief.

“We gotta go,” I told Bess and George. “Hurry!”

I gave the judge some lame excuse about parking in a tow-away zone and headed for the door.

Suddenly the judge's chamber door burst open.

“I came as soon as I heard!” A woman quickly crossed the room and gave Drake Lonestar a huge hug. “Oh, darling! How can I help you?”

Bess put a hand to her mouth and choked out, “That's Gritty Grand!”

“
WILL A LIAR LIE ABOUT
his own lie?” Bess asked as we piled into my car.

“And if this liar is lying, which lie is he lying about?” George asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The liar who lied is not the lying liar,” I said, feeling satisfied that I'd finally solved the case.

It took a few phone calls to figure out where I needed to go. The twins were alone at the Riverview, and I knew who was at the courthouse. That left one person . . . and one place for that person to be, but time was running out.

After a short drive, we pulled up to the Towering Heights Resort. I let the valet take my car. The guy's eyes brightened when he saw Bess.

“Oh, good grief,” George complained. “I think the magician here is Bess. She's got all of River Heights under some spell.”

“It's not a spell,” Bess countered. “It's my natural charm.”

“What can I do for you ladies?” the valet asked as he helped Bess out of the backseat. His long hair was combed back, showing his deep-blue eyes. I had to admit, he was pretty cute.

“Can you watch the car? We have to run.” I grabbed Bess's arm. We'd be standing there all day if I didn't take charge.

“See you later,” the valet said.

“Okay,” Bess replied, looking back at him over her shoulder.

“Yuck,” George gagged. “He wasn't asking you on a date, you know.”

“How do you know? Maybe he was,” Bess said.

It wasn't hard to find Lonestar's hotel room. The gaggle of reporters on the thirteenth floor gave away the exact spot. I couldn't believe that the Towering Heights even had a thirteenth floor. I knew from years of detective work that most hotels don't have them. Through the crowd I could see that yellow plastic police tape blocked off both Lonestar's room and the one across the hall where Smallwood had been staying.

“Thirteen is the bad-luck floor,” Bess said. “Of course they are both being accused of theft. If they had stayed on twelve or fourteen, none of this would have happened.”

George stared at Bess as if she was nuts. “What are you talking about?”

Bess shrugged. “Just saying.”

“Ridiculous,” George countered. “Superstition is contrary to science.”

“And being a Virgo rising in the house of Aries, you'd say exactly that,” Bess replied.

To calm things down, I stepped between Bess and George, just like someone whose intellect is
ruled by Sagittarius would; at least that's what Bess told me.

We made our way down the hall and immediately discovered why Lonestar and Smallwood had stayed away from the resort.

Microphones and cameras were thrust in our faces.

“Nancy!”

“Nancy Drew!”

Several people were calling my name at once. There must have been twenty reporters plus their film crews gathered.

“Is Drake Lonestar the gem thief ?” a woman shouted at me.

“I was told by my sources that it's that woman from the jewelry store! I hear you went there to accuse her.”