WHY, NANCY DREW,” DR. MORRISON said, keeping the pistol trained on her. Jenkins, the maintenance man, scowled over the curator’s shoulder. “What a surprise, seeing you here.” Dr. Morrison smiled.
“You’re the thief,” Nancy said. “You stole this from Rina’s car. You sabotaged the bridge.”
“Yes, Nancy. So I didn’t expect to find you here. Now I have a problem. How to dispose of you and George and Rina, too.” He looked around. “A pity George isn’t here with you.”
Fear shot through Nancy. She hoped George had made it out of the museum before closing time. “Why did you try to kill us?” she asked.
“You know too much.” He spoke so calmly that it was hard for Nancy to believe he was plotting murder. “What does Rina know about you?” Nancy asked, stalling for time.
Dr. Morrison’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t she tell you? Well, it doesn’t matter. You’ve discovered too much by yourself. You see, some months ago, Rina discovered my—my side business, you might call it. After she copied a drawing in the Morgan exhibit for me, Rina happened to visit the Morgan Museum. Unfortunately, she saw her own drawing on the wall.”
“You used Rina to create a forgery.”
“Yes,” the curator said, smiling. “Her copies were excellent. So I asked her to copy a particularly valuable drawing, and I substituted it for the original. But Rina was not happy when she discovered what I’d done. A pity—forgery could have become quite profitable for her.”
“Why didn’t she go to the police?”
“Rina was smart enough to realize that it would be her word against mine. Who would you believe?” The curator shrugged. “But you worried me, Nancy. I was afraid that your questions might get Rina to say too much. So when you left the museum today, I followed you. The rain made for nice camouflage.”
“And you tried to kill us,” Nancy said. “But why didn’t you just come into the cabin?”
“I considered it, but then an older woman arrived. And, frankly, I prefer indirect methods—accidents that can’t be traced.”
“Who makes your copies now?”
“Someone almost as good as Rina, but not quite.”
“If you believe Rina is so talented, why didn’t she win the art contest?” If only someone would come. But who? Nancy’s heart sank. Bryan wasn’t working this evening. He was at dinner with Ian Sanders. Ned had no idea where Nancy was, and Nancy only hoped that George had made it safely out of the museum.
“Rina is very talented,” Dr. Morrison admitted. He acted amused, as if he understood Nancy’s delaying tactic perfectly. “But her contest entry was a childish mess.” He glanced at his watch. “Enough talk. I have an important delivery to make. Jenkins,” he said to the maintenance man, “we’ll leave her in the basement for the time being.”
Pressing the gun into Nancy’s back, Jenkins walked Nancy out of the storage room down the corridor to the metal door at the end of the hall. They descended the cement steps into the basement. There, Jenkins put a gag in her mouth and tied a rope tightly around her wrists and ankles and put her behind the furnace. “You won’t be going anywhere,” Jenkins muttered, giving the rope a jerk.
Behind the furnace Nancy couldn’t see Jenkins leave. But she heard his footsteps on the stairs. Then the light went out, and the steel door shut with a solid clang.
What now? As Nancy struggled with the ropes binding her, her eyes grew accustomed to the dark. Suddenly a head of spiky blond hair popped out from behind some boxes piled across from the furnace. Even in the dim light of the basement Nancy would know that hair anywhere. Jamie! Without a word Jamie hurried to Nancy’s side, quickly removing her gag. “My hands next,” Nancy whispered. “What are you doing here?”
“When I ran from you and Debbie, I needed a place to hide,” Jamie told her, untying the rope. “Dr. Morrison is the bad guy?”
Nancy filled Jamie in quickly as the girl unwound the last rope from Nancy’s feet. “And I’m sure it’s First Kiss he’s about to deliver,” Nancy concluded, rubbing her hands and feet until the circulation returned. “We’d better move fast. You’ll help me?”
Jamie nodded vigorously.
At the top of the steps Nancy inched open the steel door. The museum was as still as a tomb. She motioned Jamie to follow her into the women’s rest room. Nancy hopped up on the radiator. Through the window she watched Dr. Morrison place a package into the trunk of his car. It was the size of First Kiss. A second later the car roared off.
A door creaked behind them. Jamie gripped Nancy’s hand as they watched the door of a closet swing open. Nancy laughed joyfully when she saw the occupant. Stepping out from the mops and buckets, George emerged, holding a red umbrella. “I heard your voices,” George said. “After I recovered from my ‘fainting spell,’ I hid. I wasn’t going to leave you alone in this creepy place.”
Nancy grinned. “Thanks, George. You’re the best.” Glancing back out the window, Nancy saw the museum security guard outside. Where had the guard been when she needed him? No matter. The guard wouldn’t be any help—he wasn’t likely to believe the museum curator was a thief. “Follow me,” she directed, jumping down from her perch.
Because Nancy suspected that Jenkins might still be lurking in the museum, the girls crept silently out to the main entry hall. Nancy tiptoed toward the museum’s doors, with George and Jamie behind her.
“As soon as those doors open, the alarm will go off,” she whispered. “George, go hide in the bushes until the police come—then tell them everything. Jamie, would you come with me?”
Nancy turned the latch and pushed. An ear-splitting alarm screamed. George raced for the bushes while Jamie ran with Nancy to her Mustang. “Wow—what happened to your car?” the younger girl asked.
“I’ll explain later,” Nancy said. “We’ve got to stop Dr. Morrison before it’s too late.” Nancy drove to the President Hotel, two blocks off Main Street. Leaving Jamie in the car, she ran inside to the front desk.
“Mr. Sanders has just checked out,” the desk clerk informed her.
“I must find him,” Nancy said firmly.
“Try the airport. He had a flight tonight.”
“Thanks. Could you please call the police?” Nancy asked. “Ask for Sergeant Weinberg and tell him the First Kiss is at the airport.”
“Is this a joke, miss?”
“It’s no joke,” Nancy said, deadly serious. “Please make the call.” Nancy watched the woman pick up the phone, then raced back to the car.
Jamie leaned over and opened the door.
Nancy knew the airport’s location from previous visits. But the traffic and slick streets made driving difficult. Would they make it in time? She glanced over at Jamie. The girl said nothing but had an expectant look on her face. Nancy hoped that her guess was right—that the airport was in fact where Dr. Morrison was headed.
When she pulled into the airport’s parking lot, she told Jamie to look for a black sports car with MORRISON license plates.
“There it is!” Jamie shouted. Nancy nodded. Then she drove out to the edge of the field. A man was descending the metal stairway of a small, single-engine prop plane, the propeller already turning. It was Dr. Morrison. The delivery had taken place.
Opening her purse, Nancy pulled out her pocketknife. “Here—for slashing Dr. Morrison’s tires,” she told Jamie. Jamie stared at Nancy and then at the knife. Then she scrambled out of the Mustang and took off for the sports car.
Nancy headed for the airport’s single runway. She reached it just as the plane began to taxi toward her. Nancy steered straight for it.
Part of Nancy knew she was acting crazy. But another part of her was infuriated with Dr. Morrison. He had the makings of a cold-blooded murderer, and Nancy was determined to stop him. The plane continued to taxi toward Nancy’s Mustang, gathering speed. Nancy drove forward, sheets of rain dousing her windshield.
If the plane didn’t stop, Nancy would have to veer off and let the police at the other end deal with Sanders. She decided to hold out until the last possible second. The plane bore down on her, but something inside Nancy refused to give up and turn the wheel. In another second it would be too late.
Suddenly the plane slowed, brakes squealing, water spraying out from its tires. It came to a jolting stop, nose to nose with the Mustang. Jumping out of his cockpit, the pilot shook his fists angrily.
Nancy smiled in relief when she saw the police cars zoom onto the field. The pilot bolted, but the squad car gave chase. One police car headed for her and stopped. Sergeant Weinberg leaped out. Nancy sprinted toward him and pointed out Dr. Morrison hurrying across the parking lot to his car. “That’s the thief!” she told the sergeant, who started after him. “But don’t worry,” Nancy said, and explained about the tires. “Jamie’s hiding over there in the bushes. Maybe we’d better rescue her before Morrison spots her.”
• • •
“So it’s a wrap-up,” Dean Jarvis said the next day after hanging First Kiss in its place on the museum wall. “And we have you to thank.” He beamed at Nancy.
“I had a lot of help, Dean Jarvis,” Nancy said. Standing at Nancy’s side, Ned gave her hand a squeeze. Also gathered round were George, Bryan, Michael Jared, and Debbie. Nancy couldn’t help but notice how Michael was looking at Debbie. And for the first time she realized Debbie bore a slight resemblance to the girl in First Kiss.
“I’m afraid I was overly impressed by Morrison’s credentials, since the Cabbott is such a major museum,” Dean Jarvis confessed. “I should have checked his references more carefully. I’ve learned an important lesson.”
Michael turned to Nancy. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, staring deeply into her eyes. For exactly one second Nancy imagined that she was the girl in First Kiss, Michael’s inspiration. Then she tore herself away and looked at Ned. He was smiling at her, his eyes filled with love. Nancy turned back to Michael. He was a handsome, fascinating man who had needed her help, but he wasn’t Ned.
“What will happen now?” George asked.
“I spoke with Sergeant Weinberg a short while ago,” Nancy answered. “Dr. Morrison, Jenkins, and Sanders face criminal charges. Rina will be prosecuted, too, but the authorities are likely to be lenient because she’s agreed to testify against Dr. Morrison in the earlier forgery.”
“What about Jamie?” Ned asked.
“Debbie took Jamie back to the halfway house last night,” Dean Jarvis told them.
“Mrs. Shephard is making sure Jamie gets more intensive counseling, and I told Jamie if she worked on her high school equivalency degree, she can apply to Emerson next fall,” Debbie informed them. Then she took Nancy aside a moment. “I spoke with Michael and he arranged to pay for those art supplies Jamie took.”
As the group drifted out of the museum, Nancy watched, amazed: Bryan was inviting George to a climbing trip the next weekend; Dean Jarvis had asked Debbie to temporarily take over as curator of the museum; Michael was taking Debbie to lunch to celebrate. Romance and good fortune seemed to be in the air. Nancy turned to find Ned.
“Hi, gorgeous,” he said, stepping up behind her.
She leaned back against his chest and let out a sigh. “One more case over and done with.”
“Almost. There’s one detail unexplained,” Ned said as they walked into the sunshine hand in hand. “What about that EC ticket stub?”
“That bothered me, too,” Nancy admitted. “But here’s my theory. When Rina stole Bryan’s climbing gear, she took his windbreaker, too. He’d worn it to the EC concert.”
“And he put the ticket stub in his pocket.”
“Right. Rina wore the jacket when she skated across campus—remember the hooded figure? She must have had it on the roof. The stub fell out.”
“Brilliant, Nancy.” Ned gave Nancy a big hug. “Dean Jarvis has a lot to thank you for.”
“Actually,” Nancy said, a twinkle in her eye, “it’s Michael who should be thanking me now.”
“Him again?”
“Yup,” Nancy pointed to the parking lot. Michael was climbing into Debbie’s white Subaru. “I didn’t just find his painting. I may have helped him find the girl of his dreams.”
Ned threw back his head and laughed. “Like I said, Drew, positively brilliant.”