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Damaging Evidence






 

Nancy was astonished. She knew at once that this must be the painting which the reporter, Peter Worden, had described to her and her friends.

No wonder he had spoken out so frankly and refused to back down, despite the artist's angry indignation!

The picture was small and seemed to Nancy not very impressive in style and artistry. It might not have even looked much like the painting that had won Lee Talbot first prize at the Riverview Art Show. But if Worden was telling the truth, the choice of those same three subjects—an Egyptian bust and a gray cat, with the moon in the background—was at the very least an odd coincidence.

But what should she do about it? Nancy was troubled. She had no wish to become involved in an ugly name-calling dispute. On the other hand, if Lee Talbot had deliberately copied another artist's work, it seemed unfair that he should win first prize at such an important art show.

With a sigh, Nancy decided to ponder the matter for a while and perhaps ask her father's advice before taking any steps. Meanwhile, it might be well to snap a photo of the museum painting to compare with the other later on, in case he did advise her to notify the art show judges.

Nancy turned to Miss Heron and pointed to the eerie-looking canvas. " Mind if I set this up in brighter light somewhere, so I can photograph it? "

" Of course not. Go right ahead." The curator's assistant looked slightly surprised at the teenager's request, but politely refrained from asking the reason.

Nancy laid the painting on a worktable directly under one of the fluorescent ceiling lights and proceeded to snap a picture of it with her tiny purse camera.

She had just finished when Mr. Gregory came into the room. " Oh, there you are,

Nancy, " he exclaimed on seeing her. " I heard you were here. That was quite an adventure you had last night."

" The intruder certainly turned up in an unusual disguise, " she chuckled.

" So I gather. And I think I can show you just how it happened."

The balding curator led Nancy to a small basement workshop down the hall and showed her scratch marks on the door lock, indicating that it had been jimmied open.

" Rather a clumsy job, " she observed thoughtfully, " or else a hasty one."

Mr. Gregory nodded. " The latter, I think. They probably sneaked down here just before closing time and had to find a place to hide quickly before anyone noticed them."

He added that regular museum craftsmen employed in the workshop had found cigarette butts and an empty matchbook in the room when they came to work that morning.

Looking around inside the workshop, Nancy saw various pieces of armor being repaired.

" So this is where one of them got the idea of dressing up like a spooky knight to scare us! "

" Exactly, " the curator agreed. " What I still don't understand is just how they contrived to ambush the watchman."

" I think I can explain that, " the young detective said, " especially now that you've shown me how they entered in the first place."

Nancy conjectured that after the museum had closed and the staff had gone home, one of the thieves had emerged from the basement workshop, made his way cautiously upstairs, and picked the lock on the curator's office door.

" You have a special private telephone in your office, don't you? " Nancy paused to inquire. " I mean, besides the regular museum phone line."

" Yes, in the telephone directory, under River Heights Art Museum, you'll find it listed separately as 'Curator's Office' with its own separate number."

Nancy suggested that while one intruder stationed himself in the curator's office, another could have furtively spied on the watchman as he patroled the museum.

" Then when he saw the watchman go upstairs, he could have dialed your office number from one of the pay phones on the main floor."

" Ah, I see what you mean! " said Mr. Gregory. " That's how the watchman just 'happened' to hear the phone ringing as he went past my office."

" Right, " Nancy declared. " Then when he went in to answer it, the one lying in wait pounced on him. And the one who'd done the dialing hurried upstairs to help subdue their victim."

" I believe you've hit on the explanation, Nancy. And incidentally, I would say this pretty well eliminates the theory that they may have had an inside helper."

Nancy agreed with the curator. " If a museum employee had fallen into our trap and tipped them off that the alarm system was still disconnected, they wouldn't have bothered hiding out in that basement workshop."

Mr. Gregory thanked the young detective for her help and promised to notify her at once if the Duval family painting turned up in the storage area.

Nancy then left the museum and drove to the newspaper office of the River Heights Record. At the reception desk in the lobby, she asked to speak to the arts and entertainment reporter, Peter Worden, and was promptly directed upstairs to his cubbyhole office.

Worden greeted her with a smile. " How can I help you, Nancy? "

" Could you give me a more detailed description of Lee Talbot's prize-winning painting? " she asked, returning his smile.

" I can do better than that. I can show you a photograph of it."

Leafing through a file drawer, Peter Worden pulled out a glossy 8 x 10 photograph. It showed Talbot and the art show judges grouped around his painting, which looked quite large.

Nancy was startled, but not by the size of the canvas. Pictorially speaking, Lee Talbot's work was an almost precise duplicate of the smaller painting that she had seen just a short time before!

The newsman noticed her gasp of surprise. " Is there anything you care to tell me, Nancy? " he asked discreetly.

Nancy Drew hesitated. Since Peter Worden was the one who had first apprised her of the suspicious similarity, and had now helped her prove it beyond a doubt, she felt she at least owed him a word of explanation.

" I can only speak off the record, " she said unhappily. " If I do, will you promise not to quote me, or involve me in any way in your dispute with Lee Talbot? "

" Of course I'll promise. You have my word of honor on that, Nancy."

" Then I'm sorry to say your suspicions were right. The painting you remembered happens to be down in the basement storage area of the museum." She told him the size of the picture and the name of the artist who had painted it.

The whole episode left Nancy feeling rather heavyhearted and depressed. Nevertheless, she dropped off her film at a camera store to be developed. Then she headed out of town.

Maybe a drive in the country will cheer me up, she told herself hopefully.

Professor Crawford's married daughter lived in a pleasant rural hamlet about a dozen miles from River Heights. Her name was Mrs. Grale and she herself was now a parent with two children of school age.

She received Nancy in a friendly way, and they sat down to chat in her kitchen over cups of instant coffee. But she shook her head regretfully to Nancy's question.

" Remember, I was only a little girl at the time you speak of. I imagine in those days I hardly even realized my dad was a history prof, " Mrs. Grale added with a smile.

" Then you've no idea what kind of research he may have carried out for Miss Louise Duval? "

" I'm afraid not, dear. You see, I turned over all his academic papers and records to West-moor U. after he died."

Nancy thanked Mrs. Grale and rose to leave.

" I'm sorry I can't be of any more help, Miss Drew, after you've come all this way, " the woman said as they stood in the doorway.

Nancy smiled cheerfully. " That's all right. I really enjoyed the ride."

On her way back to River Heights, Nancy stopped off at a delightful old inn for a late lunch. Then, with an eye on the time, she sped back to town to keep her appointment at Pierre's workshop, where she was to meet his backer, Mr. Varney.

Nancy felt somewhat out of place when she found the young Frenchman talking to a shrewd-looking, businesslike individual named Marston Parker. Apparently they had been discussing the technical details of Pierre's computer memory device.

" Don't let me interrupt, " Nancy said hastily. " Why don't I come back a bit later when you're free, Pierre? "

" No, no! Please stay, " he insisted. " Mr. Parker represents one of your big American computer companies, and I am about to demonstrate my invention to him. This is a chance for you to see what my work is all about, Nancy, and perhaps if my demonstration is successful, it will also mark the first step in an important business deal."

Nancy's blue eyes twinkled. " Very well. If you don't mind an audience, I'll sit and watch."

Pierre bustled about, preparing the demonstration. This would involve the desktop computer model that she had seen him assembling the day before. He looked annoyed at the fact that some of his tools seemed to be out of place, and as a result he could not lay hands promptly on a particular one that he needed.

" My assistant, Nyra Betz, is home ill today, " he explained, " and I cannot seem to find anything when I need it. She must have moved things around before we closed up the shop yesterday evening."

At last, however, all was ready. Pierre was speaking to Mr. Parker, just before flicking a switch that would turn on the computer.

Nancy felt vaguely uneasy for some reason that she could not understand. Then she noticed several scratch marks around the screws holding the cover of the computer in place. Perhaps the scratches on the door lock of the museum workshop had made her especially aware of such evidence.

" Those scratches weren't there yesterday, " she murmured with a frown.

They were also completely out of character with Pierre's deft, craftsmanlike way with tools. He would never have driven in screws so carelessly as to mar the glossy finish of the plastic cover.

A sudden, dismaying thought flashed through

Nancy's mind. The young Frenchman was about to press the switch that would turn on power to the computer.

" Pierre, don't! " she cried out in alarm.

But it was too late to stop him. An instant later, a loud explosion echoed through the workshop as the computer blew up!

 






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