Portrait in Crime (13 page)

“But when I heard Ned's voice, it was like . . . like being
home
somehow. I don't know how to describe it. I really do miss him.”

“It's a tough one,” George agreed. “They're both great guys. I guess you have to go with your heart.”

Bess glared at her cousin. “Honestly, George, that's the problem!” Bess exclaimed. “She doesn't know where that is!”

“She'll know,” George said simply. “When she can see both of them together.”

“I hope so,” Nancy said, “because I sure don't know right now.”

The three girls sank into silence.

“What time is it?” Nancy asked suddenly.

“Just after five,” George answered.

“I'd better get moving. Are you guys ready to meet our mysterious model?”

“So soon?” Bess asked. “I thought you said six.”

“I did. But I want to stop at the gallery first.”

“How's it coming?” George asked. “I feel like I've missed most of what's been going on.”

Nancy filled her in. “The key is in the paintings,” she said. “But it looks like Diana Spitzer is
the only one who can confirm everything. There's one more thing I have to check out with Cynthia Gray.”

“What's that?” George asked.

“Something I overheard at the opening party for the Scott show,” Nancy said mysteriously.

“Nancy!” Bess wailed.

“Okay, okay.” Nancy threw up her hands. “I need her opinion on whether Christopher Scott's painting has changed over the past six months. How do you like that for an answer?”

“No good,” George declared. “Tell us the rest.”

“I can't until I talk to Diana. All I have now are vague ideas,” Nancy said. “We'll find out the truth together.”

Bess and George offered to go with Nancy to the Nisus Gallery, but she refused, saying it was only a quick question and she didn't want to stay too long. The three girls drove into town and Nancy dropped Bess and George off at Bess's favorite boutique. They made plans to meet at the town square a little before six to confront the model together.

“Don't go near her till I get there,” Nancy warned as she said goodbye to them. “If I'm right, she may spook easily.”

When Nancy got to the gallery, she found the place dark and the front door ajar. That's odd, she thought uneasily. The gallery was usually open until six. And if it had closed early, why hadn't someone locked up?

“Hello? Cynthia?” Nancy called. She turned on the light switch and walked in. “Anyone here?”

Nancy walked down the hall to Cynthia's office and tapped on the door. “Cynthia?” Nancy pulled open the door, which swung out into the hall.

Just then Bob Tercero's door flew open. “Well, if it isn't our little detective!” Bob said sarcastically, trapping Nancy between him and the open door. “Here to stir up more trouble?

“Stay right where you are,” he warned as Nancy tried to step around him. “I've been fired, so I don't have any reason to be nice to you anymore.”

“You've only been fired,” Nancy said defiantly, “not arrested, so it looks to me like you got off easy. You won't be so lucky if you try to stop me from leaving.”

Bob just grinned. “Look at her,” he said to no one in particular. “A little girl playing detective. But you found the wrong things. You couldn't figure out what happened to Christopher even when I handed you the clues!”

“Is that what you think?” Nancy asked angrily. “It might interest you to know I found the
Vanity.
Someone stole it before you could!”

Bob's face darkened. “Where is it?”

Nancy returned his stare. “I don't have it.”

“I'm warning you,” Bob said, advancing on her. “I'll use force.” He grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her back. “Now tell me who has it.”

“You're hurting me!” Nancy cried, stalling for time. How was she going to get out of the gallery? she thought wildly.

“Okay, okay,” she gasped. “I'll tell you if you just let me go.”

Bob released her arm, shoving her into Cynthia's office. He closed the door.

“Put your hands on your head and sit on the floor, your back up against the wall,” he directed. “Stretch your legs flat out in front of you.”

Nancy obeyed slowly. She thought she had a good chance of beating him if it came to a struggle, but she decided not to risk it if she didn't have to. If she just did what he said, maybe she could defuse the situation before anyone got hurt.

“Now tell me who has the painting,” Bob said.

“Diana Spitzer has it, of course,” Nancy lied. “Who else? I sent her into hiding.”

“So, Diana's back? She would have been a lot better off if she'd stayed away.

“Well, Nancy,” Bob said with contempt, “you were right and I was wrong. You
do
know too much.” He picked up the small bronze statue Cynthia had placed on a pedestal near the door. “You didn't take my warning seriously. I think it's time I got serious about removing you from the scene.”

Bob advanced on her. Nancy tried to rise, but
he was too fast for her. One arm snaked out and pushed her back to the floor.

Bob lunged at her, the statue raised above his head. She rolled away, but the blow still caught the side of her head.

“That's for lying,” Nancy heard Bob say just before she blacked out.

T
HROUGH A HAZE
Nancy heard someone talking.

“Nancy? Wake up.” Nancy felt something caress her face. “Please wake up.”

Ned? Nancy thought groggily. Was Ned here? The voice was deep and tender, like his. But the accent was different. . . . Nancy forced her eyes to open.

Sasha's face swam before her eyes.

“Sasha? What are you doing here?” she mumbled. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth.

“Nancy, you are all right!” Sasha burst out, worry easing from his face. “I thought you were dead.”

Nancy sat up, wincing in pain. She put her hand to her temple and groaned. “What's going on? What time is it?”

“It is six o'clock,” Sasha said, cradling Nancy against him. “I ran into Bess and George on the street. They were worried when you did not show up. I offered to come here to look for you. Bess was going to call Tommy to meet them at the town square. She and George seemed to think they might need someone with a car.”

“The town square!” Nancy said, pulling herself forward. “Sasha, we've got to get to Diana.”

“No way!” Sasha declared. “You are in no shape to go anywhere.”

“We have to,” Nancy insisted. “Bob Tercero was here, and now Diana Spitzer is in danger. I told him she has the
Vanity
painting. He's desperate. If he sees her in town, who knows what he'll do!”

Nancy struggled to her feet with Sasha hovering anxiously over her. “I'll be okay,” she assured him, one hand on her head. “Could you find my purse? I've got some aspirin in it.”

Sasha brought the aspirin and some water from the bathroom. “Thanks,” Nancy said gratefully, gulping it down. “Now call the police. Tell them to arrest Bob Tercero. I'll go sit in the car.”

“What should I say are the charges?”

“Anything and everything!” Nancy replied. “Thievery, assault—and let's just hope that's all.”

“Nancy,” he protested as he headed for the phone, “wait for the police. You are in no condition to drive.”

“I'll be okay,” Nancy repeated, gritting her teeth as her head throbbed. “Anyway, we don't have any choice.”

Nancy waited in the car, massaging her temples gently. Bob Tercero had said, “That's for lying,” she recalled. What did he mean? She watched as Sasha stepped out of the gallery and closed the door behind him. Well, she thought, when the police picked Bob up, she'd have plenty of time to ask him about his cryptic remark.

Nancy drove to the town square as fast as her pounding head would allow. As they pulled up, George raced up to the car.

“She's gone,” George said, leaning down to the window on the driver's side. “You said not to approach her, so Bess and Tommy followed her in Tommy's car.” She looked at Nancy. “What on earth happened to you?”

“I had a ‘conversation' with Bob Tercero,” Nancy said, touching her head lightly. “But I ducked. I think I'm okay,”

George knew better than to argue. “Whatever you say. I'll drive if you don't feel up to it.

“Bess said she'd call the house as soon as she knows where Diana is headed,” George explained, opening the driver's side door. Sasha climbed into the backseat, and Nancy slid over to the passenger side gratefully. “Eloise is home manning the phones,” George added.

“I'll call your aunt to see if Bess has checked in yet,” Sasha volunteered. “Just pull over to that pay phone.”

While Sasha was gone, Nancy told George what had happened. “We called the police, so they'll be on the lookout for Bob,” she concluded.

Sasha returned. “Bess did call,” he said, climbing in and slamming the car door. “Diana stopped at the gallery, and now she is heading toward New York City. She's in a white Volvo sedan. I wrote down her license plate number.”

“Bravo for Bess!” Nancy declared. “Can we catch up with them?”

George gunned the engine. The little car raced through the narrow streets. They passed the gallery and headed out of town. The asphalt road got straighter and wider. “George, I hope you're not breaking any speed laws,” Nancy said to her friend.

George raised her eyebrows. “Not yet, but I will be if I keep accelerating,” she replied.

George caught up with Bess and Tommy several miles out of town. She pulled into the left lane beside Tommy's car. Bess waved and pointed forward. George pulled ahead.

Thank goodness there were no other cars on the road, Nancy thought. They were racing down a wide straightaway, heading for the next town.

A few minutes later the back of a white Volvo appeared in the distance. “We've got to stop
her,” Nancy urged. “I have to talk to her before Bob Tercero finds her.”

George put her foot down hard on the gas pedal. “Hang on. I hope there are no police cars around!”

As they drew up behind Diana's car, the white Volvo took off in front of them.

“Some people just do not want help, do they?” Sasha said in disgust.

“She's scared,” Nancy said. “She doesn't know we're friends.”

“Well, she's not going to know unless she stops,” George declared. “I can keep up with her, but I'm not going to force her off the road!”

The two cars raced along the road at high speed, George right on Diana's tail. Tommy and Bess were no longer in sight. Slow down, Diana, slow down! Nancy pleaded silently.

Houses began appearing along the road. In front of them, Nancy could see the edge of the next town.

“Watch out, George,” she warned.

Suddenly Diana's car slowed. George slammed on her brakes to avoid ramming the Volvo. Both cars pulled off to the side of the road in front of a house.

Diana leapt out of the Volvo and ran for the house. Sasha and George jumped out after her.

“Wait!” Sasha called.

Diana looked behind her and ran faster, but Sasha and George were closing in. Nancy, her head throbbing, tried to keep up.

Sasha reached Diana and grabbed her arm. She stumbled, and the two of them rolled together on the lawn. Nancy followed, wincing in pain.

Diana sat up and looked at Sasha, a terrified expression on her face.

“I'm leaving,” she said in a small voice. “I promise I'll never tell. Please don't kill me, too!”

W
HEN SHE HEARD
Diana's desperate words, Nancy's suspicions were confirmed. Feeling satisfied, she knelt by the redheaded model. “Don't worry, we aren't going to hurt you,” she assured Diana.