The Stolen Kiss (12 page)

Near the top of one pile of papers, Nancy found a folder labeled Jamie Peters. Inside was a photograph of a young girl. “George, it's the girl in the bookstore.”

As Nancy studied the photo more closely, something bothered her. Then she had it. Nancy realized she had seen this girl
after
the shoplifting incident. Why hadn't she noticed before? All the time the evidence of who she was had been staring right at her. The hair was dramatically different, but the face was the same. Jamie was the girl with blond spiky hair who was masquerading as Kate.

“Hurry, Nancy,” George whispered. “She's coming.”

Quickly Nancy closed the file and sat down primly in her seat.

“Thank you for your patience, girls,” Mrs. Shephard said. “How else can I help you?” Nancy stood up and shook hands with Mrs. Shephard. “You've helped us a lot. When Jamie does come back here, I'd love to speak with her,” Nancy said.

“Don't worry,” George added. “I know Debbie. Jamie couldn't be in better hands. . . .”

“If
she's with Debbie. I only wish Debbie would return my calls.”

“If we run into Jamie, we'll give you a call right away,” Nancy promised.

George had a lunch date with Bryan, so Nancy dropped her off near the student union. After returning to the sorority house, Nancy knocked on Debbie's door. Debbie opened it cautiously, frowning when she saw Nancy. “We have to talk,” Nancy said. “I know about Jamie.”

Debbie gave a little cry, covering her face with her hands. Nancy pushed by her and went into the room.

“You've been hiding Jamie,” Nancy continued, standing with her hands on her hips.

“No,” Debbie began. “You've got it all wrong.”

“I don't think so,” Nancy said evenly. “I've been to McKinleyville. I've seen Jamie's file. Jamie's been masquerading as Kate.”

A sigh escaped Debbie.

“You're in enough trouble as it is,” Nancy told her softly. “The only way I can help you is by hearing the truth.”

Debbie looked up with tears in her eyes. She nodded. “I found Jamie hiding in the museum storage room the night of the robbery. I'd left the door unlocked because I'd been going in and out. She sneaked in, looking for a hiding place.”

“That was about the time the theft occurred.”

“Yes,” Debbie said. “Oh, Nancy, that's why I didn't know the robbery was happening. I was trying to convince Jamie to go back to the halfway house when we heard the police siren. Jamie got scared and climbed out the window.”

“She came here that night,” Nancy said. “That's who I saw throwing pebbles.”

“Yes,” Debbie admitted.

“Why did Jamie go to the museum in the first place?”

“To see Michael Jared's work,” Debbie explained. “That's why I feel so responsible for her running away. I showed the girls slides of his paintings this past summer, and Jamie fell in love with them.”

“I saw Jamie shoplifting,” Nancy said, sitting down on the bottom bunk.

“I know.” Debbie paced the room as she talked. “It was wrong, and I told her she had to put the packet back. But she had opened it already. I took what was left and put it in Kate's footlocker. I couldn't figure out how to return it without getting Jamie into trouble.”

“So that's what you meant when you said ‘put it back.' I overheard you on the phone that day. You were talking to Jamie.” Suddenly she had a thought. “Your slashed dress?” Nancy asked.

Debbie stood up, wringing her hands. “I think Jamie did that. She was mad because I confronted her and told her to go back to the halfway house. I think she needs help. But she's not a bad kid. Not really.”

“And Kate's registration packet?” Nancy thought rapidly. “Isn't that how Jamie knew Kate was registered for Michael's drawing class?”

Debbie nodded.

“Then after the bookstore theft, Jamie changed her appearance.”

“A beauty school was offering makeovers,” Debbie said. Nancy remembered the flyer someone handed her Friday afternoon. “Maybe she thought someone besides you saw her. Maybe she was scared Mrs. Shephard would call the police and they'd recognize her from a picture. I don't know.” Debbie sank down on the bunk next to Nancy, burying her head in her arms. “This has been the worst couple of days.”

Nancy felt sorry for her and was sure now Debbie had nothing to do with the robbery. “You've got to call Mrs. Shephard and get Jamie to go back to the halfway house before Mrs. Shephard does call in the police.”

“I'll try to talk to her one more time,” Debbie said. “She needs to go back to McKinleyville, but if she's forced to go back against her will, she'll just run away again.”

Just then Nancy heard a noise. The window behind the drawn curtains was being raised. Both she and Debbie froze. A slender arm parted the curtains. A girl with spiky blond hair poked her head through.

“Hello, Jamie,” Nancy said calmly.

Jamie's mouth dropped open as she stared at Nancy. Then she ducked back out the window.

“Jamie!” Debbie cried. Nancy dashed out of the room, and through the kitchen into the yard. She spotted Jamie racing down the street and started after her, Debbie on her heels. The two girls chased the runaway down to Main Street, where she ducked into a small shopping arcade. Nancy and Debbie tore through the arched entrance, but Jamie was gone. “We lost her!” Debbie wailed.

“Keep looking,” Nancy ordered her firmly. “You're the only one Jamie will listen to.” Nancy watched Debbie disappear into the crowded arcade. Nancy believed Debbie was telling the truth, which meant she had nothing to do with the theft. That left Bryan as the prime suspect. Nancy remembered that Bryan had a dinner date with Ian Sanders that night. Maybe Bryan stole the painting for Sanders. Nancy had to find it before they met tonight. Bryan and George were having lunch now, so this was her chance to search his room. Nancy needed to call Ned to ask for his help.

Back at Theta Pi, Nancy headed toward the house phone. Rina's roommate, Terri Beck, was just hanging up the receiver. She looked upset. “What's wrong?” Nancy asked.

“Rina didn't come home last night,” Terri replied. “And she didn't show up for her shift at the café this morning. Rina's difficult, but she's very responsible. She never misses work. I'm worried.”

Rina's disappearance was suspicious, Nancy thought. “Where does Rina usually hang out?” Nancy asked.

“I don't know,” Terri answered. “Rina doesn't share her personal life with me, or anyone.”

Nancy felt pulled in two directions—she wanted to find Rina, but Bryan's room had to be searched. Nodding goodbye to Terri, she dialed Omega Chi. Ned answered the phone. “I just walked in the door,” he said. “What's up?”

Nancy briefed Ned and he immediately agreed to help. Nancy was grateful because she knew this was painful for Ned. Bryan was a friend.

When Nancy arrived at Omega Chi, Ned told her that Bryan shared a room with Howie Little at the end of the second-floor hall. “Howie's working on his car in the parking lot, so make it fast, Nan,” Ned cautioned. With Ned standing lookout, Nancy bounded up the stairs. The room wasn't locked.

Half the room was neat, the other half a mess. Ned had told her Howie was a slob. Starting on the neat side, Nancy searched the drawers, the bedding, the closets. She even tested for loose floorboards.
First Kiss
wasn't in the room.

Dejected, Nancy rejoined Ned. “Where else would Bryan keep his things?” she asked.

“We have lockers for extras in the garage,” Ned said.

“So let's go.” On their way to the garage, Howie Little waved hello, then ducked back under the hood of his car. A raindrop fell on Nancy's nose. She glanced up and saw the sky darkening.

Ned unlocked the combination lock on the garage door. A vintage convertible was parked on one side. The rest of the place was filled with old furniture. A bank of lockers hugged one wall.

“Ned,” Howie called. “I need your help.”

“I'll just be a minute,” Ned promised.

With no time to waste Nancy scanned the names on the lockers until she came to
Barbour.
She heard Ned behind her. “I'll hurry,” she whispered.

Suddenly someone grabbed her arm, jerked her around, and shoved her back against the bank of metal lockers. Nancy looked up into Bryan Barbour's angry green eyes.

W
HAT ARE YOU DOING
looking at my locker?” Bryan bellowed. “I reported my gear stolen. My job's probably on the line now. What more do you want?”

Nancy let her body go limp, and Bryan loosened his hold. Seizing her moment, Nancy squirmed out of his reach.

“What's going on here?” George cried, walking into the garage. Ned was right behind her.

“Nothing,” Nancy said quickly. She turned to Bryan. “If you're innocent, then you won't mind if I check your locker.”

“Be my guest,” Bryan said, and opened it. Inside was a skateboard, boxing gloves, and a tennis racket.

“Satisfied?” Bryan asked.

“Thank you.” Nancy closed the locker.

Bryan noticed Ned. “You think I'm a thief, too?”

“No, but Nancy has to investigate everyone.” George moved to Bryan's side. “Haven't you got enough proof now?” she said to Nancy. “He's innocent.”

Nancy felt terrible, but she had to tell the truth. “I don't know that yet.”

Brian groaned. “I told you. I've been framed. Someone wants it to look like I stole
First Kiss.”

“So you claim. But who'd frame you?”

“I'm not accusing anybody, but there's only one person I know who'd want to hurt me and that's Rina.”

“You think Rina stole your equipment and robbed the museum?”

“I don't know,” Bryan said, his expression troubled. “Especially now with the forgery, I just don't know. Rina wouldn't do a copy again.”

“What do you mean ‘again'?” Nancy suddenly felt a prickly sensation at the back of her neck. Could this be the lead she'd been waiting for?

“Rina's done copies before. She's fantastic at it. When an exhibit from the Morgan Museum in Vancouver came to Emerson last spring, she copied some paintings. They were good enough for the museum gift shop to sell as reproductions. Even Dr. Morrison asked her to copy a picture in the Morgan exhibit for him. But after that, she stopped. She told me she'd never do a copy again.”

“Did she say why?” Nancy asked.

“No,” Bryan replied. “But Rina's really determined to paint in her own style—so maybe that's why she's not interested in copies. She wouldn't talk about it.”

“Has Rina done any climbing?” Nancy probed, trying not to sound too excited. “Could she lower herself into the museum?”

“Sure,” Bryan said. “We used to climb a lot in high school, back in Colorado.”

“Rina didn't return to her room last night,” Nancy told him. “Any idea where she is?” Bryan thought for a moment. “Rina's aunt has a cabin out in Lincoln Valley. Rina used to go there to paint and be alone.”

“Can you give me directions?” Nancy asked.

“Yeah.” Bryan scribbled in the notebook Nancy took out of her backpack.

“I should go with you, Nan,” Ned said.

“Don't be silly. What could Rina possibly do to me? Don't you have to study?” Nancy said lightly.

“I'll come,” Bryan offered.

Nancy shook her head sharply. “No. Rina hates you. I won't be able to get a thing out of her with you around.”

George glanced at Bryan and then back at Nancy. “I'm game,” she volunteered.

“I'd like to stop at the museum before we go to Lincoln Valley,” Nancy told George after she waved goodbye to Ned and Bryan. The rain was coming down steadily as they crossed the Theta Pi lot and climbed into Nancy's Mustang.

“You want to check on Bryan's story about Rina.”

Nancy tried to ignore the disappointment in George's voice. “I have to. But I think he's telling the truth,” she said.

Nancy parked the car. “I'll be right back.” Nancy dashed through the rain into the museum. Dr. Morrison was in his office, studying computer printouts. He looked up with bleary eyes when she knocked on the open door.

“Good news?” he asked expectantly.

“Not yet,” Nancy said. “But I've got some questions about Rina. I understand she did a copy of a painting for you last spring.”

“Why, yes, she did,” Dr. Morrison replied, obviously surprised by the question. “It was of a painting that was here on loan.”

“Could Rina have forged
First Kiss
?”

Dr. Morrison's eyes glinted. “Yes. I'd say so.” He paused. “So you're suggesting Rina—”

“I'm not suggesting anything right now,” Nancy cut in. “I'm just asking questions.” She turned to go. “Excuse me, Dr. Morrison. I have to run.