Designs in Crime (3 page)

S
TOLEN
?” Joanna gasped as the color drained from her face. “That—that's impossible.” Turning to Beau, she added, “Isn't it?”

“Well—yes,” Beau said, bewildered.

Joanna buried her face in her hands for a moment, then quickly raised her head as if struck by a new thought. “What about the bridesmaids' gowns?” she asked.

Beau hurried over to a row of emerald green dresses and counted. “They're all here.”

Nancy realized Joanna was near tears. She touched her arm and suggested, “Why don't you sit down while Beau's staff searches for your dress?”

“But I'm willing to help,” Joanna began, her voice cracking with emotion.

“Let us take care of it,” Beau said. “You wait in
the fitting room with Bess. Mrs. Chong will show you the way.”

As Mrs. Chong led Bess and Joanna out of the vault, Nancy's mind was racing. If the gown had been stolen, it seemed logical that the thief was the same person who had stolen Beau's designs.

“This is my worst nightmare,” Beau said, checking through all the dresses in the vault a second time. “Nothing has ever been stolen from the vault.”

“There's still a chance that the dress was misplaced, isn't there?” Nancy asked him.

Beau bit his bottom lip. “A slim chance. The staff is turning the place upside down right now. My design assistant, Angel, will report to me when they're done.”

Nancy had already paced most of the perimeter of the windowless room, checking for even the slightest cracks in the walls and ceiling. “How could a thief break into this room without leaving a trace?” she asked, thinking out loud. But the bare walls held no answers. She turned to Beau, who was shifting two gowns on the racks. “Make sure there are no cracks or holes in the wall behind those dresses. I didn't look there.”

“Will do,” Beau said, shoving a sheer black gown to one side so he could check.

Kneeling beside the only door to the vault, Nancy examined the lock. “There are no scratch marks,” she told Beau, “no sign that anyone tried to pick the lock—though that would have been a
challenge. The magnetic card system used to open this type of lock is hard to derail.”

“That's why I had it installed,” Beau said, pushing aside an ivory satin bridal gown. “The magnetic strips on the cards are generated by computer, and they have a lot of information encoded on them.”

“Besides you, who has a card key to the vault?” Nancy asked.

“Only Mrs. Chong and Angel.”

Next, Nancy checked the edges of the gray wall-to-wall carpeting inside the vault. She prodded and tugged, but the carpet was solidly tacked in place. It didn't seem as if anyone could have come through the floor.

“Bad news, boss.”

Nancy looked up at the thin man standing in the doorway of the vault. He had thick black hair that fell forward over his forehead and widely spaced brown eyes.

Beau sighed and turned away from the rack of dresses. “You didn't find it?”

“Sorry,” the young man said, shrugging.

Quickly Beau introduced Nancy to his assistant, Angel Ortiz. He pointed down the hall. “Tell the staff we're meeting in the workroom—
now.
I want to get to the bottom of this.”

The mood was somber as Nancy and Beau entered the large, sunny workroom. Angel boosted himself up to sit cross-legged on top of a table. Mrs. Chong was standing beside a window,
no expression on her face. A handful of workers sat on tables and scattered chairs.

“As you all know,” Beau began, “the Rockwell gown is missing. I put it in the vault last night when I finished working on it. Has anyone seen it since?”

The unanimous answer was no. “Most of us don't go near the vault,” said a tall, exotic-looking model, whom Beau called Isis.

“Has anyone heard or seen anything out of the ordinary today—or last night?” Nancy asked.

Again, people shook their heads.

One girl, wearing a black sweater and tights, flung a golden braid of hair off her shoulder and sighed.

“What's the problem, Eleni?” Beau asked.

“It's not fair to suspect us,” Eleni told him. “Most of us were out of here by six yesterday.”

“Really?” Nancy said.

“Yeah,” Eleni went on. “When I left only Beau, Angel, and Mrs. Chong were still here.”

Nancy and Beau asked the group a few more questions, but the answers didn't tell Nancy anything.

After Beau sent the staff back to work, he and Nancy returned for one last look in the vault. Mrs. Chong and Angel joined them.

“Now I remember,” Mrs. Chong said as she unlocked the door with the card key hung around her neck. “I heard a funny noise last night, while I was in my sewing room.”

“What kind of noise?” Beau asked.

“Like something falling to the floor in the workroom,” Mrs. Chong said. “I went in to check it but didn't see anything. Maybe a bolt of cloth dropped, maybe not.”

Nancy stared at the older woman. “What time was it?”

“Late—sometime at night,” Mrs. Chong said brusquely.

Nancy frowned. She wasn't quite sure what to make of Mrs. Chong.

“Where was I when it happened?” Angel asked.

“Gone,” Mrs. Chong said, acting almost irritated.

Angel turned to Nancy. “I was here till midnight, so it was after that.”

“So you were the last person here last night?” Nancy asked Mrs. Chong.

The woman nodded, her neat bun gleaming under the fluorescent strip lights. “I locked everything up,” she said, gesturing with the pair of shears she had inadvertently carried with her to the vault. The handles of the scissors were made of gold-colored metal and elaborately decorated.

“Did you see Joanna's gown in here before you left?” Nancy prodded.

“I didn't notice,” Mrs. Chong replied.

Was she hiding something? Nancy couldn't tell. Mrs. Chong could have taken the gown
herself, then made up the story about hearing the noise. If the noise
had been
caused by an intruder, there was no sign of a break-in. One thing was clear to Nancy. Since Mrs. Chong and Angel were the only two people—besides Beau—with keys to the vault, she'd have to watch them closely.

“Can you think of anyone who'd want to steal Joanna's wedding gown?” Nancy asked.

Beau rolled his eyes, while Angel and Mrs. Chong exchanged a look.

“That's easy,” Mrs. Chong said. “Mimi Piazza would love to see Mr. Beau fall flat on his face.”

“She's been a rival of mine since we went to design school together,” Beau admitted. “Mimi specializes in bridal and evening wear, too.”

“And her design was second choice for Joanna Rockwell's gown,” Angel added.

“When Joanna chose Mr. Beau's design, Mimi blew up,” Mrs. Chong explained. “Steaming like a kettle! Now she really hates us.”

“I'll see what I can find out about Mimi Piazza,” Nancy said to Beau. “But right now we'd better tell Joanna what's going on.”

“Exactly what I've been dreading,” Beau said, wearily rubbing his eyes. “That girl's going to be heartbroken, and it's all my fault.” He headed for the fitting room with Nancy following.

Joanna's face lit up when they first walked in, but a moment later her smile faded. “No luck?”

“I'm afraid not,” Beau said. He sat beside her on the couch and squeezed her arm. “I'm so
sorry. I can't imagine how this happened, but I'm going to get to the bottom of it.”

“Maybe it'll turn up,” Bess said hopefully.

“That gown was very special to me,” Joanna said as tears filled her eyes. “Did Beau tell you that he designed the dress around the bodice of my mother's bridal gown. Her own pearls were sewn in at the neckline. And seed pearls from her gown covered the—the—” Overcome with emotion, Joanna covered her face with her hands.

Upset, Bess asked Nancy, “Did you find any clues? Any signs of a break-in?”

“I haven't had a chance to investigate thoroughly yet,” Nancy said. “But I will, and there's a good chance that the missing gown is related to the problem Beau has been having here.”

Beau turned to Joanna. “You might as well know why Nancy came here in the first place.” He explained about his stolen designs.

“I'd appreciate your help, Nancy,” Joanna said. “Bess tells me you're an expert detective. I know it's just a dress. But part of it belonged to my mother. She didn't live long enough to see me walk down the aisle. Wearing her pearls was a way of having her close to me.” Joanna wiped a tear from her cheek. “You must think I sound silly and sentimental.”

“I think it's a beautiful idea,” Bess said.

Nancy nodded. “I'll need to know what I'm looking for. Can you describe the gown?”

“What about the photo?” Beau suggested.

“Good idea.” Joanna reached into her purse and fished out a photograph. “Here's a picture of me in the gown,” she said, handing Nancy the snapshot. “Beau took it at my last fitting. You can keep it for now—but not a peep to the media.”

“I'll guard it carefully,” Nancy said, studying the photo. The pearls on the antique white bodice gleamed. In the shot, Joanna was smiling as she lifted the satin train of the full skirt. “Can you think of anyone who has a grudge against you?” Nancy asked Joanna. “An old friend or classmate?”

Joanna paused to consider the question. “Not that I know of. I try to be honest with people. Usually it keeps me out of trouble.”

“Maybe your fiancé will have some ideas,” Nancy suggested.

“Sam?” Joanna asked. “Why don't you and Bess join us for dinner, and you can ask him. We're dining at my father's apartment, so you'll also have a chance to meet Dad and my brother, Tyler. What do you say?”

“Sounds good to me,” Bess said.

“We'd love to join you,” Nancy agreed.

“Before you go,” Beau said, “why don't you choose another gown from my collection. I'll have it altered in case Nancy can't locate your gown by Saturday.”

“I guess it'll be good to have a standby,” Joanna said, “but I hope I don't have to wear it.”

Beau showed the girls one elegant gown after
another, and Bess fell in love with them all. Joanna wasn't quite as enthusiastic. At last she chose a traditional gown with puffed sleeves and a fitted bodice.

“Excellent choice,” Beau said.

Joanna forced a smile, though Nancy sensed that her heart wasn't in it. “Ready to go?” Joanna asked, slipping her jacket on. “My driver is waiting downstairs.”

“We'll see you tomorrow,” Nancy told Beau as they walked to the studio door.

“I'll be here,” Beau said, holding the door open. “I'm really sorry about the gown, Joanna. But we've got a great detective on the case.” The girls said goodbye, then crossed to the elevators.

“My head is still spinning,” Joanna said, touching her forehead. “I can't believe my gown has been stolen.”

“Nan, you've got to find the dress before the wedding,” Bess said. “Isn't there some way to—”

“Stolen?” came a voice from out of nowhere.

Nancy spun around as a figure emerged from a shadowy nook beside the elevator bank.

“This
is
a hot scoop,” said the silver-haired reporter. It was Delia Rogers. She'd heard every word!

J
OANNA GASPED
at the sight of the TV journalist. “I—I didn't see you there.”

Nancy could see that Joanna was too upset to handle Delia with her usual aplomb. “What are you doing here?” Nancy demanded.

“My crew is outside, taping background footage,” Delia explained. “I came up to see if the entrance to Beau's studio would make a better shot—but what I got is a plum. When was your gown stolen?” she pressed Joanna. “Is anything else missing? And who's the detective on the case?”

“I—” Joanna hesitated, then blurted out, “Nancy Drew is the investigator, and, uh—”

“Right now it's better if we don't reveal the details of the case,” Nancy said, taking charge. As far as she was concerned, Delia Rogers already
knew too much. Spotting a doorway marked Stairway, Nancy saw their chance to escape.

“Who do you think stole it?” Delia probed. “Does this mean the wedding is off?”

“You'll have to save those questions for a later date,” Nancy said as she took Joanna by the arm and ushered her toward the staircase. Bess snapped to attention and followed.

The girls ducked through the door. They were descending the first staircase when Delia's voice echoed down with more questions.

“Doesn't she ever give up?” Bess muttered under her breath.

“Chances are, she'll take the elevator and beat us down,” Nancy speculated as they hurried. “When we get to the lobby, we might be greeted by her and her crew. Just ignore them and keep walking.”