him to say something to Jason. “Oh, you have the
recorder,” he said, then managed to tilt the lid so the
revolving tape was hidden from Jason's view. Ethan
avoided glancing at Nancy. He was aware the tape was
recording what could be devastating evidence against
himself and his brother. And he let it keep playing.
Nancy couldn't believe it. Maybe Ethan was in-
nocent.
“Yeah, I got that tape. It's pretty cool,” Jason said.
“We can share in this big-time, bro! With your con-
nections this tape is going to set us up for life.”
“We? Us? Hey, keep me out of this. Look, I know
you stole the tape. How you knew about it before you
rented this apartment is beyond me.”
“I didn't.” Jason shrugged. “I overheard Lisa talking
about her aunt's collection. I have clients interested in
tribal art, and by the way, I found them on your
girlfriend's Web site.”
“Thriftytreasures?” Ethan exclaimed.
“Don't look so shocked. Once 1 find a buyer on the
black market, my associates obtain the goods.”
“Thieves, not associates!” Nancy corrected angrily.
“So you are behind the burglaries,” she accused,
knowing that the tape was still recording.
“I play my part. I get my cut,” Jason bragged. “A big
one—believe me.”
“But what about the tape? How does the tape fit
in?” Nancy prodded, wanting to get the whole story
recorded.
Jason leaned against the sofa and actually looked
proud. “Before I made my move on Lisa's apartment,
you girls and that tape turned up. You left it right in
the middle of the living room—or practically in the
middle of the living room—and Lisa never locks that
terrace door. Hey”—he lifted his shoulders and flashed
a charming smile—“it was mine for the taking. I put
the tribal stuff on hold. It'll keep.”
“So that's where your money comes from.” Ethan
sounded disgusted.
“Yeah, and if you stop with the good-guy act, you'll
get your share, too—that is, if you don't have some
kind of in already.” Jason snickered. “You know, from
Inez and her cute little side business.”
“Inez is no thief, and she hasn't stolen a thing.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But she is the perfect fall guy.
The cops will be looking at Thriftytreasures pretty
closely, and once we get rid of this snoop—”
“We?” Ethan paled, then grit his teeth. “You're a
jerk, Jason. I'm not a thief, and I'm not getting rid of
anyone.” He paused, then tackled his brother,
shouting, “Except you!”
Taken totally off guard, Jason fell, hard. Ethan threw
his body on top of Jason, trying to pin him to the
ground. Nancy sprang away from the window to help
Ethan. She looked for something to use as a weapon.
She reached for a lamp on the table by the sofa, but
Jason's fingers reached it first. He yanked it out of
Nancy's grasp and managed to bring it down on
Ethan's head.
Ethan groaned and rolled off Jason. Disoriented, he
tried to struggle to his feet, but Jason was quicker. Like
a cat he jumped up and kicked his brother hard.
Frantic, Nancy grabbed the tripod, brandishing it at
Jason as he plunged toward her. “You'll be sorry for
this!” he roared, expertly maneuvering out of her grasp.
Reaching for her right arm, he wrenched it behind her
back, twisting her wrist until she dropped the tripod.
He started pulling her toward the terrace.
“Little snoop was out on the balcony on a windy day,
and she tripped and fell!” he said, struggling to drag
her toward the railing.
Nancy managed to free one arm as Jason pressed
her back against the railing. She felt him try to pick her
up. Nancy planted her feet and with her last bit of
strength aimed a karate kick at Jason's head. She made
contact, hard.
He yowled and fell backward, slamming his head
against the concrete floor of the terrace. He lay,
writhing in pain, as Nancy steadied herself against the
railing, trying not to look twenty stories down.
At the same instant the door to Lisa's terrace flew
open, and two police officers swarmed over the divider,
racing to Nancy's rescue.
George was right behind the cops, and so was Bess.
Nancy was trying to catch her breath, but as she caught
George's eye, she managed a wry grin. “Hey,” she said,
gesturing toward the apartment. “I found the tape. It's
inside, but it might have a problem.”
“Wonder what your aunt Betty and uncle Nick
would think of this party?” Nancy murmured to Lisa
that evening, in the living room of Lisa's condo. Open
boxes of pizza and jugs of soda were arranged on the
coffee table.
“Aunt Betty would say this is an eclectic crowd.”
Lisa hazarded a nervous smile. “And it's not exactly my
idea of a party,” she said, making a face.
“Mine either. And your aunt would definitely not be
happy about the occasion,” Bess commented.
All four girls were seated on the floor in front of the
coffee table. On a long side table by the bookcase was a
tape recorder. Bobby Morgan and Ethan Woodard
were hovering over it.
“I just hope she doesn't make me move out,” Lisa
said ruefully.
“She won't,” George predicted, grabbing a piece of
pizza and popping rounds of pepperoni into her mouth.
“Now more than ever she's going to want an apartment
sitter.”
“But one who locks terraces!” Mr. Landowski
teased, patting Lisa on the shoulder. He pulled up a
chair and poured himself some seltzer. “None of this is
your fault, Lisa. Right, Carson?”
Nancy looked up at her dad. As soon as Nancy
phoned him, he had driven from River Heights to
advise George in case there were legal questions about
ownership of the tape.
“Eddie's absolutely right,” Carson reassured Lisa.
“This was a very sophisticated professional operation. I
wouldn't be surprised if the investigation leads to a
pretty high-powered art theft ring. Jason's actually
small-time here.”
“He still caused some pretty big trouble,” Nancy
said, her back still smarting from her struggle with
Jason earlier. The cops had arrested him, designated
the vacant apartment as a crime scene, and brought
everyone—including Nancy, George, Lisa and Bess—
in for questioning.
Inez was cleared of any wrongdoing, but Mr.
Landowski was furious with her and had fired her on
the spot. He was threatening to sue her over her
Thriftytreasures site. At the very least, Nancy had to
agree that the venture had been unethical. But Ethan
was going to bat for her, trying to ward off any legal
action.
As for the tape, it took Carson, an enter
tainment
lawyer representing Lou Knight's estate, and Eddie
Landowski to convince the cops to give it up—at least
for the evening. They needed to hold the tape until
Jason's trial because Nancy had recorded Jason's
conversation.
Ethan had objected strongly—the tape was possibly
a very valuable property, and a copy should be made
immediately of Lou Knight's song . . . unless Nancy
had recorded Jason's voice over it.
While they had waited for the detectives from the
local precinct to bring the tape back, the lawyer said
that the legal issues of ownership were complicated,
but in any event George would receive some hefty
compensation whether it was sold at auction, bought by
a recording company, or claimed by Lou Knights heirs.
Bobby turned from the sideboard and called the
room to attention. “Well, here goes nothing,” he said,
winking at Nancy.
As Bobby pressed Play, Nancy crossed her fingers.
He'd transferred the tape to a modern reel-to-reel
machine. That in turn was hooked up for dubbing on
another reel-to-reel studio-quality machine.
Static erupted from the speakers. The sound fidelity
was ten times truer than on the old battered machine.
There was the sound of voices, some laughter, and then
a deep male voice counting “And one . . . and two . . .
and . . .” The room filled with the gritty unproduced
version of Lou Knight's trademark tune, Knight's voice
blending with Carey Black's. The song ended, and one
of the detectives motioned for Bobby to turn off the
tape before Jason's voice could come on. Nancy's body
sagged with relief. She hadn't erased the important
part of the tape.
When Bobby looked up, his eyes glittered with tears.
“Now, that is something I never thought I'd hear . . .
not in this lifetime.” He turned to George and grinned.
“You've got yourself the gen-u-ine article: Lou Knight's
lost last song!”
Carolyn Keene, The Case of the Lost Song
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