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Contents
CHAPTER ONE A Magical Day
CHAPTER TWO The Magician
CHAPTER THREE Onstage
CHAPTER FOUR Gone Missing
CHAPTER FIVE No Coincidence
CHAPTER SIX A Midnight Chat
CHAPTER SEVEN Connecting the Dots
CHAPTER EIGHT Jail Time
CHAPTER NINE Careful Considerations
CHAPTER TEN The Missing Gems
CHAPTER ELEVEN Clue by Clue
CHAPTER TWELVE Inside the Box
CHAPTER THIRTEEN Unlocking the Magic
CHAPTER FOURTEEN Flawless
CHAPTER FIFTEEN Lies Liars Tell
CHAPTER SIXTEEN All the Answers
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN A Magician’s Secrets
About Carolyn Keene
Dear Diary,
* * *
* * *
* * *
I’VE ALWAYS BEEN A LITTLE SKEPTICAL when it comes to magic. I guess the detective in me can’t help wanting to know how every trick is done. But when celebrity magician Drake Lonestar de-cided to come to River Heights, even I was excited to see him perform. After all, it’s not every day that you get to see a courthouse disappear into thin air! I just wish the evidence box for my dad’s latest case hadn’t disappeared too. Now I have to figure out the magic behind the mystery, before something—or someone—else vanishes!
* * *
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
A Magical Day
“I THOUGHT WE HAD PLANS.” I sighed. “This is the third time you’ve canceled.”
My boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, just stood in the front hallway of my house and continued typing a text message into his phone.
“Ned!”
He raised his head. “Oh, sorry. I’m in the middle of an important conversation.” He took one more glance at the phone before lowering it to meet my eyes.
“You can’t keep working like this. The stress isn’t good for you.” I squinted, staring at his hair. “In fact, I think I see a strand of gray.”
“No way!” He looked up, startled, then touched his temples.
“Just kidding,” I admitted with a chuckle. “I understand that you have a million things to do. I just wish you could get some time off. Today was supposed to be fun.”
“I’m sorry, Nancy. I promise I’ll find time for us to hang out,” he said.
“That’s what you said Thursday,” I replied. “And again yesterday. Now it’s Saturday. You deserve the weekend off.” I put my hands on my hips. “In fact, I’m going to complain to your boss. He’s driving you too hard.”
Ned snorted and grinned. “Good luck.” He tilted his head toward my father’s closed office door. “We both knew I’d be busy when your dad hired me as an intern.” He paused, then added, “I just didn’t realize how busy.”
I knew what he meant. As busy as Ned was, my dad, attorney Carson Drew, was even busier. And his latest case was taking up all his time. My dad was defending a man accused of stealing millions of dollars’ worth of precious gems from a jewelry shop right in our hometown of River Heights. Dad was convinced that his client, John Smallwood, was innocent, but he couldn’t prove it. Not yet, anyway.
Ned glanced down at his hand as his phone began to ring. “I really should—” He looked conflicted between answering what was obviously another important call and continuing the conversation with me.
“Don’t worry.” I picked up my purse from a side table near the front door. “I can go to the show by myself.”
Ned drew his eyebrows together. “Show?”
“The magic show,” I said, looping the purse, a new one my friend Bess had bought me, over my shoulder.
He looked at me blankly.
“Drake Lonestar . . .”
Still no sign of recognition.
“He’s probably the most famous magician ever to visit River Heights,” I explained. “He makes large . . . historic . . . monuments . . . disappear. . . .” I stretched out each word, trying to jog his memory.
“Oh, right,” Ned said at last. “You showed me the video of him making the Eiffel Tower vanish.”
“Yes!” I was encouraged. “And the Taj Mahal. And the Sphinx in Egypt. And today, our very own River Heights courthouse.”
Ned was with me now. “I’m so sorry, Nancy. I totally forgot!”
“Want to change your mind?” I held up the tickets and wiggled them in front of him. “We could sneak out the back door.”
“I . . .” He paused. It was a pause full of possibility. “Maybe I could—,” he began again.
Just when I thought I had convinced him, my dad’s office door opened.
“Ned! Oh, good, there you are.” My father walked into the foyer, past me, straight up to my boyfriend. Like Ned, he was wearing a suit, even though they were only working from our house. “You aren’t answering your phone. What’s the status?”
“I’m on it, Mr. Drew,” Ned said, grasping his phone with tight knuckles. “The courthouse is closed today, but I called Judge Nguyen’s clerk at home. She says the materials were transferred out of the judge’s chambers to an evidence locker in the basement.”
“It’s your job to get us in to see that box.” My dad tapped his toe and wrinkled his brow. “Immediately.”
“I’m doing my best,” Ned said. “The clerk is checking to find out if the locker can be opened later today. I’m expecting a call back any minute.”
“I hope she hurries,” Dad replied.
“Me too,” Ned said, then turned to me. “The police gathered evidence at the crime scene. Papers and documents along with the jewelry shop’s security tapes were put into crates and sealed. Then the crates were counted and cataloged at the judge’s office.”
“That’s all perfectly normal. It’s a big case,” my dad put in. “The judge is keeping a personal eye on everything. Lawyers are only allowed to review the materials at certain times. When I went over there yesterday, Mr. Walton was there too.” He frowned. I knew my father had worked with prosecuting attorney Ted Walton before, and he didn’t trust him.
Ned continued, “The police also collected materials from Mr. Smallwood’s hotel room. Along with clothes and papers, they found a locked box. No one could figure out how to open it without breaking in, and with so little time to review the materials, the box was put aside.” He sighed.
I couldn’t help but ask, “Any idea what’s in it?”
“The police think the stolen gems are inside,” Ned said.
“They don’t know that for sure,” my dad cut in. “The prosecution is basing the whole case on assumptions. That’s why it’s so important that we open the box.”
“Did you ask Mr. Smallwood what’s in there?” A feeling bubbled inside me—that same feeling that always happens when a mystery presents itself.
“He doesn’t know, but he insists that the box isn’t his,” Ned replied.
“Where did it come from, then? Whose is it?” I asked. “Does he have an explanation for why it was in his hotel room?”
Ned gave a small laugh and smiled. “Nancy Drew, Girl Detective.”
I blushed but didn’t back down. I’d been solving mysteries my whole life. In fact, there was already a list forming in my head. CLUE: Unopened box. SUSPECT: John Smallwood. My nerve endings popp
ed with excitement as I imagined the lists growing and then diminishing as I crossed off potential suspects and sorted through clues.
My father shook his head. “I wish I had more to tell you. Whatever is in that box might be the very thing to free my client.”
“But if the jewels are inside and it can be proven that the box belongs to Mr. Smallwood, then the box might be the very thing to put your client in jail,” I reminded him.
“At this point, we need to trust that Mr. Smallwood is telling the truth; he didn’t rob the store and the strange box isn’t his. So”—he looked at Ned and tapped his wristwatch—“pretrial hearings start Monday. There’s no time to waste. I found a locksmith who says he can open the box without damaging it; we just need access. Time to get back to it, Ned.”
Ned gave me an apologetic look and, gripping his cell phone, took a step back.
My dad reached into his coat pocket. “Oh, Nancy, I almost forgot. A past client gave me two tickets to this afternoon’s performance of that magic show everyone’s talking about,” he said, handing me an envelope. “I thought you might want to take either Bess or George.”
He said that as if I would be able to take one of my two best friends without taking the other. That would so never happen. Dad would have realized it himself if he hadn’t been so distracted.
Of course, now I had four tickets total, so I could invite them both and still have one left over for Ned. I took the envelope. “Thanks.”
“Great,” he said. “Have fun. I can’t wait to hear all about it at dinner.” He gave me a quick hug, then scooted Ned into his office.
I stood alone in the foyer. Somewhere in the bottom of my purse my cell phone buzzed. It was a text from Ned.
I’LL TRY TO MEET YOU, it said. SAVE ME A SEAT.
I smiled and quickly typed back, K. HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE.
Then I phoned George and Bess in a three-way call.
“Give me five minutes,” George said after I explained what had happened. “I’ll grab my stuff.” I imagined her throwing a jacket and some loose cash into an old tote bag. “Just pull up out front. I’ll jump in the car and then we can go get Bess.”
“I need at least fifteen minutes!” Bess insisted. “And I call shotgun!”
“You had front seat last time,” George argued.
“I call it again,” Bess argued.
“Whatever,” George replied with a groan.
George Fayne and Bess Marvin were cousins, but no one would ever guess they came from the same genetic material. Where George would show up wearing whatever she found on the floor of her room, dark hair in a tangle, with a tote bag for a purse, Bess would get dressed to the nines, make sure her blond hair was perfectly styled, and change her bag to match whatever outfit she’d selected. Fifteen minutes to Bess meant we’d be waiting for thirty.
“Bess, try to hurry,” I pleaded. “I was hoping to get there a bit early. I want to look around before the show and see if I can figure out how his magic works.”
“Uh-oh. Is this another case for Detective Drew? The Case of the Disappearing Courthouse?” George asked with a giggle.
“Exactly.” I laughed and headed out the door.
CHAPTER TWO
The Magician
THE MAGIC SHOW WAS AT one p.m. Right outside the River Heights courthouse. As it turned out, the seats my dad gave me were located in the same row as the ones I had bought. Bess batted her eyes and convinced an older couple to trade tickets with me so we could all sit together. She was great at getting what she wanted; the couple even smiled at her as they scooted down.
“Here.” George held out Dad’s ticket envelope. “We should save the seat on the aisle for Ned. That way if he shows up, he won’t have to step over anyone.”
On the way over it had dawned on me that it was going to be extra difficult for Ned and my dad to get into the courthouse’s evidence locker today. Not only was it a Saturday, but the River Heights courthouse was the centerpiece of Drake Lonestar’s show. His grand trick was to make the big historic building disappear. Even if the lawyers got permission to enter the storage area, the investigation would probably have to wait until after the performance.
So maybe Ned would be able to attend the show after all. He wasn’t going to be able to do much on the case for the next few hours anyway.
I took the envelope. “Good idea. I’ll sit in seat B. We’ll save A for Ned.” I looked over my shoulder to see if there was any sign of him. I knew I was acting obsessive, but I really hoped he would come.
There was also a different reason I was glancing around. “I’d like to check out the stage area,” I said, pushing a long strand of hair off my face.
“We’ll come with you.” Bess smoothed her bright-green skirt and grinned at me. “The show starts in fifteen minutes. Let’s see what kind of trouble you can get into until then.”
I laughed. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
“You never are,” George replied, putting a hand on my back. “But you’re a magnet for it.”
“If there’s trouble around, it will find you,” Bess added.
“Not today,” I said firmly.
“Right.” George winked and Bess laughed.
As we walked to the stage area, I turned and looked toward the audience. Metal folding chairs were set in long rows. There were enough seats for about three hundred people. Employees in Lonestar T-shirts—black with a silver star on the sleeve—were ushering ticket holders to their seats.
“Wow, it’s really exciting,” Bess said, pointing out that there was only one entrance to the area. Curtains, ropes, and caution tape created a closed space, with the courthouse straight ahead. “I don’t know why Lonestar picked River Heights, but I’m so glad he did.”
“He threw a dart at a US map and then came to the place that it landed on,” George said. “It just happened to be River Heights.”
Bess looked at her. “How on earth did you know that?”
“When Nancy said her dad had the extra seats, I checked him out online.” George shrugged as if she wondered why Bess hadn’t thought to do the same.
“You amaze me,” Bess said, shaking her head.
A banging sound made us all swing around.
George pointed. “Hey, look!”
There was a commotion near the back of the audience. At the left side of the entryway, a man had jumped the rope boundary. He was shouting, “Drake! You’re the best!” In literally seconds, the Lonestar staff had stopped him and were escorting him outside.
I took a sharp breath and quickly scanned the area. “Security sure is tight,” I noted. Big signs had warned: NO CAMERAS OR RECORDING DEVICES. We’d had to leave our smartphones at a check-in booth. In addition to Lonestar’s own security team, the local police were out in force.
Above us, two helicopters hovered in the distance. The blades hummed in the light spring breeze. I pointed them out to Bess and George.
“Those are military helicopters,” George remarked. Along with computers, her obsession was anything mechanical. She knew a lot about all kinds of hardware. “I think the models were retired. Must be more of the magician’s private security.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Interesting.”
I’d never seen a show like this, but I wondered if the security and helicopters were there to protect skeptics from ruining the illusion. I assumed I wasn’t the only one there who was eager to figure out how the trick worked.
I turned toward the stage. It was the same standard rented raised platform the town used for outdoor concerts, and it had been set up near the bottom of the courthouse steps. Several thick, billowy velvet curtains framed the stage, and spotlights dotted the makeshift ceiling.
“Come on,” I said to my friends. “Let’s check it out.”
“Don’t get too close,” George said, then leaned in and warned, “You don’t want to get kicked out because you were snooping.”
“We aren’t snooping,” I countered. “We’re just survey
ing the scene!”
As I said that, I could feel the eyes of a Lonestar employee watching our every move. Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted a security guard with thinning, gray-speckled brown hair and very big arm muscles standing under a tree. He winked at me, not in a bad way, but in a way that let me know he was doing his job.
I gave him a tiny smile and looked away.
Bess pulled my arm and we moved to the side of the stage, where a small set of steps led to a thick, black curtain.
I guess Bess and George could sense my inner detective getting into gear, because they both shook their heads, but I put my finger to my lips, checked to make sure the burly security guard wasn’t looking our way, and darted up the steps. I knew it probably wasn’t the smartest move, but I was dying to know what was back there. And Bess and George must have felt the same, because they followed me. I parted the curtain panels, and the three of us found ourselves in the stage’s wings.
The stage setup was simple: a table sat in the middle with black top hat—the old-fashioned kind magicians usually drew a rabbit from—sitting on it. I have to admit, I was surprised the stage was so bare. I don’t know what I expected, but at least a few props or something.
“Magic baff les me,” I said. “It takes so much preparation to pull off a single trick.” I seriously had no idea how Drake Lonestar was going to make the huge, solid courthouse disappear, and looking around the stage certainly gave me no clues.
Suddenly loud orchestral music blared from the speakers, and the stage curtains slowly pulled back. A murmur rose from the audience, who seemed to be scrambling back to their seats.
“Wait!” George hissed. “Is that smoke? The show isn’t supposed to start yet.”
Sure enough, smoke had started emanating from the stage. I squinted, trying to make out what was happening.
Bess glanced at her watch. “It’s still ten minutes to showtime. Maybe he likes to get things started early?”
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