Nancy listened as the thrum of the boy’s dirt bike faded into the sound of the rain. Then, realizing that she was chilled, she made her way up to the house. Who was the boy? she wondered. And who or what was the kingfisher?
The lights were already on when Nancy reached the house. Once inside, she checked for signs of another break-in. Nothing had been touched.
She found George, Bess, and Amy in the kitchen, having a mild disagreement over what to have for dinner. Bess wanted to make a complicated casserole, George thought soup and sandwiches would be just fine, and Amy wanted to order out for Chinese food. Their conversation stopped when they saw Nancy.
“Did you just come in?” Bess asked. “I thought you were already upstairs, changing.”
Nancy took off her soggy cardigan and pushed some strands of wet hair out of her eyes. “Does the name kingfisher mean anything to you?”
“It’s a bird,” George replied. “Why? Don’t tell me you were out there bird-watching in this weather.”
“Not exactly,” Nancy said. “When I was coming up the hill, I heard a noise in the woods. It was a teenage boy, and it looked as if he was running away from the house. I chased him to a dirt bike he’d left in the woods. And when I asked him what he’d been doing here, he said, ‘Ask the kingfisher.’ Then he took off.”
“And you think he’s our thief?” Bess asked.
“Not really,” Nancy admitted. “He didn’t look anything like the man in the dark red car, and he was too young to drive. Then again, maybe there has been more than one vandal.”
“What did the boy look like?” Amy asked.
“He was about fourteen and Asian, with longish hair. He wore a silver dragon earring in one ear.”
Amy’s dark eyes widened at the description, but before Nancy could ask her if she knew the boy, the telephone rang and Amy went to answer it. “It’s my dad,” she reported after picking up the phone. “He says he won’t be back until late tonight.”
Nancy waited until Amy hung up. “Amy,” she said, “do you know anyone who fits the description of the boy I saw tonight?”
Amy shook her head and glanced at the clock. “My favorite TV show is on—do you want to watch?”
“You’d better change into something dry,” Bess told Nancy in a worried tone. “And take a hot shower. You’re shivering.”
“Yes, Mom,” Nancy replied with a smile, but she went upstairs and took Bess’s advice. As the hot water streamed down around her, Nancy’s thoughts returned to the latest turn in the case. Who was the kingfisher? And how would she find him?
• • •
Later that evening, after Amy had gone to sleep, Nancy and her friends spread out in the living room with a phone book, a local newspaper, and a bird guide.
“All right,” Nancy said in an official tone. “Your assignment is to find as much information as possible about kingfishers.”
“It’s definitely a bird,” George reported as she flipped through the bird guide. “It’s brightly colored with a short tail and a long, sharp bill. It dives for fish and then swallows them head first.”
“Yuck,” Bess said, looking up from the newspaper. “What am I supposed to be looking for, anyway? A column on birds?”
“Anything with the word kingfisher in it,” Nancy replied. “Maybe kingfisher is the name of a local political leader . . . or a street gang. It could be anything. Just look for the word.”
Bess skimmed the paper and soon announced that kingfishers simply were not in the news.
Nancy checked the phone book. She found no one with the last name of Kingfisher, and no stores or companies named after the bird. “This is driving me crazy,” she said. “I set up a stakeout, and nothing happens—except I get watched. Then I get what may be our first real clue, and we all draw blanks. I don’t even know if the boy is connected to the break-ins, or what it was the thief was looking for.”
“Amy’s sweaters?” George offered with a shrug.
“Right,” Nancy said, smiling. “But somehow I’ve got a hunch that the trunk does have something to do with the mystery.”
Nancy heard the sound of a key turning in the front door, and Terry walked in, looking exhausted. “What are you all doing up?” he asked. “Never mind, I’m beginning to recognize that gleam in Nancy’s eye. You must be discussing the case.”
“We got another clue tonight that led nowhere,” Nancy said. Then she told him about the boy on the dirt bike. “Do you know anyone who fits that description?” she asked.
Terry shook his head. “No one I know, and Amy’s friends are all much younger than him.”
“What about the kingfisher?” Bess asked.
“Do we even have kingfishers in this area?” Terry asked. He dropped into a chair and closed his eyes, as if trying to travel back in memory. “Kingfisher, kingfisher. There’s something familiar about that word.” He sat up straight and opened his eyes. “Kingfisher is what they call jade in southeast Asia.”
“You mean in Vietnam?” Nancy asked.
“And in Thailand and Burma. Over there jade is known as the ‘feathers of the kingfisher.’ You said the boy was Asian, so he might have known the term. Maybe you should be checking jewelry stores that sell jade.”
“Finally,” Nancy said, “something solid to go on.” She turned to Bess and George, feeling happier than she’d been since the start of the case. “Why don’t we call it a night?” she suggested. “Tomorrow we’ll have lots of jewelry stores to call.”
• • •
“That’s twenty-seven jewelry stores that sell things made with jade and eighteen that don’t,” Bess said the next morning as she hung up the phone. “And none of them knew what I was talking about when I mentioned the kingfisher.”
“Not true,” George said. “Don’t forget that nice man who invited you to go bird-watching with him.”
Bess laughed and threw a pillow at her cousin.
Nancy took a last look at the phone directory and consulted her list. She, Bess, and George had spent the better part of the morning calling what had to be every jewelry store in northern California. And none of them had turned up anything. “Maybe there is no kingfisher,” she said dejectedly. “Maybe that kid just said the most outlandish thing that came into his head, sure that I’d waste days trying to figure it out.”
“Well,” Bess said, stretching, “I say we all need a change of subject. I’m going to call Joanne and see about getting those decorations up to her house.”
Nancy wasn’t listening as Bess made the phone call. The more Nancy thought about things, the more frustrated she became. She just couldn’t seem to make any progress on the case.
“Nancy, I’ve got Keith on the phone. I told him about our problem, and he wants to talk to you,” Bess suddenly announced, jarring Nancy out of her thoughts.
Nancy took the phone, curious about what Joanne’s boyfriend would have to say.
“Bess told me you were interested in jade,” Keith began. “I’m not an expert, but I know that the finest green jade in the world comes from Burma. For the last seven hundred years the Chinese, the Thai, and everyone else in Southeast Asia have been trading for it. And Terry was right—they call it fe t’sui, or ‘feathers of the kingfisher.’ ”
“Could you spell that for me?” Nancy asked.
Keith did, and after chatting for a few more minutes, Nancy hung up the phone. She walked over and looked through the phone book. “Here it is,” she said, her voice low with amazement. “ ‘Fe T’sui Gallery,’ ” she read, “ ‘specialists in jade carvings. Sausalito.’ ”
George gave Bess a knowing grin. “Sounds like we’re going to Sausalito today.”
Bess looked worried. “We can’t. I told Joanne we’d help her start decorating the barn today.”
“Don’t worry,” Nancy broke in quickly. “You two can help Joanne. I can drop you off at her house, and then she can bring you back here when you’re done.”
Nancy called Joanne, who quickly agreed to the plan. When the three girls left, Terry was working in his studio and Amy was in school. Nancy drove Bess and George and the decorations to Joanne’s house, then set off for Sausalito.
Nancy had seen Sausalito before when she’d solved a case involving one of Hannah Gruen’s friends. But she was still charmed by the scenic town overlooking San Francisco Bay. She’d always wondered what it would be like to live there—either in one of the houses built into the cliffside or in one of the houseboats moored in the bay.
Glancing at the address she’d copied from the phone book, she passed Bridgeway, Sausalito’s main street, and followed a series of side streets uphill.
Nancy found the Fe T’sui Gallery and parked the car a short distance away. As she entered the white stucco building, Nancy recognized the hushed atmosphere of an exclusive gallery. She could tell at once that the objects in the Fe T’sui were not for the average tourist who just happened to wander in. This was a gallery for serious collectors of jade.
A few people strolled among the display cases. Nancy did the same, taking mental notes on the gallery’s clients. In the main room a heavyset man, wearing horn-rimmed glasses, stood studying a set of engraved jade tablets. Across from him a well-dressed couple viewed tiny carved animals.
A young blond-haired woman in an elegant sage-colored suit sat behind a mahogany desk. She nodded at Nancy, said, “Let me know if I can be of help,” and then went back to reading through a file.
Nancy began to pay serious attention to the objects on display. The first thing she noticed was the wide variety of color in the stone. Nancy had always thought jade was green. Now she saw it could be milky white, spotted yellow, pale green, or a green so dark it was almost black.
Many of the pieces were from ancient China. There were jade amulets shaped like fish and frogs. The tiny statues were even more fantastic—elephants, horses, dragons, and even something that looked like a unicorn. Nancy found herself drawn to the more modern pieces. She especially liked a mirror and brush set made at the turn of the century. The handles were silver and the backs set with carved jade.
This is all wonderful, Nancy thought, but how is it connected to my case? She pictured the boy again, standing angry and defiant in the rain. She could almost hear him telling her to ask the kingfisher. Nancy had gotten the definite impression that the kingfisher was a person. If this gallery was where the boy had meant to send her, then she still needed to find the kingfisher himself.
Nancy went over to the woman behind the desk. “Excuse me,” she said, “but are you the owner of the gallery?”
“No, that’s Mr. Mai,” the woman replied. “I’m afraid he’s not here right now. Can I help you?”
Nancy thought quickly of Keith, then said, “I’m studying Asian art history, and I’m doing a paper on jade carvings. I was wondering if it would be possible to interview him.”
The woman handed her a slip of paper. “Why don’t you write down your name and number, and I’ll have Mr. Mai get in touch with you.”
Nancy didn’t really expect Mr. Mai to call her, but she gave her name along with Terry’s phone number. Then, thanking the woman, she left.
I’d better get to a library, Nancy thought. She would never pass as a student of Asian art history unless she did some research. But outside the sun was shining on the bay, and Nancy found she couldn’t resist the impulse to spend at least a little time walking around Sausalito.
She decided to make her way down to the waterfront and look at the houseboats. Rounding the corner of the shop, she headed downhill toward the plaza. As she passed the back of the gallery building, she stopped. Behind it, on the street facing the water, was a small antique store, and between the two buildings was an alley.
Intrigued, Nancy entered the alley. It was empty except for several large wooden trash bins. Nancy saw empty cardboard boxes addressed to the Fe T’sui Gallery and wondered briefly if being a detective meant having to go through other people’s garbage. And then she saw it, leaning against the farthest of the bins—the shattered remains of a small wooden trunk.
Nancy couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Had she actually found Nick Finney’s trunk? It looked as if someone had taken an ax to it.
She went over to the bin and picked up a slab of the shattered wood. She had just begun to examine the wood when she heard the sound of a low growl. Nancy dropped the wood and turned quickly, but not quickly enough. A powerfully built Doberman pinscher raced toward her and sprang, its open jaws aimed at her throat.