Diamond Deceit

by Carolyn Keene

  “Nancy and I must have arrived right after that,” George put in, crunching down on an ice cube.

  Marcia nodded. “I had just gotten into my car and was about to follow Len when you guys pulled into the overlook. I didn’t want to have to answer any questions about why I was there until I talked to Len, so I ducked down in my seat.”

  “And by the time we left, Len was already out of sight,” Nancy guessed. Some of the pieces of this puzzle were starting to fit together, but she wanted to hear the rest of what Marcia had to say.

  “That’s right,” Marcia said. “I decided to go back to the shop to wait for him. Then you came by and told me Joanna was dead. What could I think?” Marcia looked up at Len apologetically.

  “I always rant and rave when I’m upset,” Len said. “It’s just the way I let off steam.”

  Marcia smiled at him. “I guess I should know, but so much was at stake—my whole business.”

  Turning to Nancy, Marcia said, “That’s why I wouldn’t talk to you this morning. I had to talk to Len first, and he didn’t show up here until after lunch.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I’m just glad I talked to him before the police picked me up for questioning. At least I could tell them what really happened. And when the police called, Mrs. Kohler confirmed that Len was there until just before ten o’clock.”

  Marcia still didn’t have proof that she had been where she claimed to be, but her story seemed to ring true. Also, Nancy’s instincts told her that the same person was probably involved in both crimes. If Len and Marcia hadn’t killed Joanna, they probably hadn’t stolen her diamonds.

  The wheels in Nancy’s mind were turning. Assuming that Len and Marcia weren’t involved, that left Cy Baxter, his assistant Rachel, and Morgan Fowler as suspects. Cy Baxter had an alibi for the time of Joanna Burton’s murder, but Nancy wondered about the other two.

  “You must be scaring the person who’s responsible,” George put in. “Someone shoved that boulder at you this afternoon. And if Marcia was at the police station, it couldn’t have been her.”

  Nancy quickly explained what had happened to the others. “And that’s not all. Last night I received a ‘gift’ of a smashed cuckoo clock with a warning note,” she concluded.

  “That’s awful,” Len said. He nodded at Nancy’s bandaged ankle. “I was so caught up in what we had to tell you that I didn’t even notice that you were hurt. Is it serious?”

  He seemed relieved when Nancy told him she’d be okay.

  “Nancy needs to get home and rest that ankle, though,” Bess said, getting up from her chair. “Let me get us something for dinner first.”

  “We need to be going, too,” Marcia said, standing up.

  When Bess returned with a huge paper bag a few minutes later, Ted fixed her with stony dark eyes. “Are you going to be gone all day tomorrow?” he asked her. The annoyance in his voice was clear.

  “Ted, you’ll do just fine,” Bess said simply.

  This was the Bess Nancy knew—the one who wouldn’t let Ted or any other guy push her around.

  Turning back to Nancy, Bess said, “I’ll go get the car. I have to go right by a video store on the way, so I think I’ll rent a movie, too. We can borrow your VCR, can’t we, Ted?” Bess asked.

  “Um, sure,” Ted said, but his expression told Nancy he wasn’t happy about anything.

  “I’m going with you to pick out the movie, Bess,” George insisted. “I don’t want to watch one of those silly romantic things you always rent.”

  Nancy started to get up, but Bess only shook her head. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not moving an inch until we come back with the car.”

  “We’ll only be a few minutes,” George promised. Then she and Bess hurried out of the restaurant.

  Ted stared angrily after Bess and George, then stormed back into the kitchen. Nancy was glad, though, that Bess had stuck up for herself.

  After a few minutes Nancy got fidgety. “I’ll just walk down and find Bess and George,” she murmured, getting to her feet.

  She tried to ignore the incessant throbbing in her ankle as she left the café and started down Ocean Avenue. Spotting the video store Bess had mentioned about halfway down the block, she limped over to it and peeked in through the window. Bess and George were there, all right—talking to Morgan Fowler!

  Great, Nancy thought. This was a chance to find out more about what he knew about the diamond theft and Joanna Burton’s murder.

  “What are you doing here?” Bess asked as Nancy joined them. “You shouldn’t be walking.”

  “I wanted to help you pick out a movie,” said Nancy. “Hi, Morgan.”

  The actor smiled a hello. “I’m surprised to see you up and around after your fall this afternoon,” he said. “But it looks like your friends picked out a good movie for you,” he said.

  George held up a videocassette. On the cover was a young woman peering through a magnifying glass. The title of the movie was Diamond Deceit, and the woman on the cover, Joanna Burton. She was playing Trish Tottenham, a detective.

  “I go for action-adventure movies myself,” Morgan said, holding up a box with a warrior dressed in space-age fighting gear.

  As the group headed for the counter, Bess said, “Morgan has some great news,” she said. “He got a part in a movie!”

  Morgan turned to Nancy, flashing her one of his winning smiles. “I just quit Seaside Security. Stephanie Cooke thinks she has a part for me in a movie, and she’s agreed to be my agent.”

  “That is good news,” Nancy said, but her mind wasn’t really on what he was telling her. She was trying to think of a way to turn the conversation to the case.

  Morgan paid the girl at the counter for his movie, then turned back to Nancy. “Stephanie was involved in a big comeback deal for Joanna,” he said. “That’s the movie she has in mind for me. You know Michael Davis?” When Nancy nodded, he continued. “Stephanie thinks she can get Joanna’s movie rewritten for a male lead. Michael Davis is one of her clients. If he agrees to do the movie, she thinks there’s a part in it for me,” Morgan finished with a proud smile.

  He waved his videocassette at Nancy, Bess, and George. “Well, see you later.” Before Nancy could think about how to turn the conversation to the missing diamonds, he was gone.

  “This ankle must be making me lightheaded,” she muttered to herself.

  “Your ankle hurts?” Bess asked worriedly.

  “We’d better get you back to the inn,” George added, stepping away from the counter with their videocassette.

  Bess gave Nancy a stern look. “You wait here, and I’ll go get the car,” she said.

  The three of them walked out of the shop together. Spotting a bench a short way down the hill, Nancy went to it and sat. George stopped in a newsstand next to the video store and picked up a paper.

  “This will give us something to read while we wait for Bess,” George said, joining Nancy at the bench.

  George pulled out the sports section of the newspaper and handed the rest to Nancy. Nancy immediately scanned the headlines.

  “Police Seek Clues in Death of Movie Queen,” the headline read. “George, here’s a story about Joanna Burton.” Nancy held out the paper so they could both read the article.

  The story didn’t give many details, saying only that the actress’s body had been found on the beach behind her house, and that foul play was suspected. Most of the article focused on Joanna Burton’s film career.

  “It says she was going to do another Trish Tottenham movie, a mature Trish,” George said. “That must be the movie Morgan was talking about. He may be getting his hopes up a little soon, though.” George pointed to a part of the story Nancy hadn’t read yet. “It says that the future of the picture is in doubt because Joanna was providing a portion of the financing.”

  Nancy sat up straight. That didn’t make sense. “She didn’t have any money of her own. Cy Baxter said she didn’t pay her bills, and we saw how worn her house was. Where would she get t
he money to invest in a movie?”

  In a flash the solution suddenly became clear to Nancy. “Unless she planned on coming into some big money soon—money from the sale of some diamonds!”

  “What are you talking about?” George asked, crinkling up her nose.

  Nancy sat forward excitedly. “George, I have a feeling that the person who stole Joanna Burton’s diamonds was Joanna herself!”

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  GEORGE WAS STARING at Nancy as if she’d lost her mind. “Will you please speak English?” she said. “Nothing you just said makes sense.”

  “Okay. Let’s say Joanna Burton replaced the diamonds with cubic zirconia herself,” Nancy began. “Then she pretended that someone else made the switch so she could collect on her insurance for the missing diamonds.”

  Understanding lit up George’s brown eyes. “That would be an ideal way for her to raise money,” she agreed. “Then she’d have the insurance money and the diamonds, in case she needed to sell them to raise more money.”

  Nancy frowned as another thought occurred to her. “Wait a minute. If Joanna Burton did steal her own diamonds, then who killed her? And why?”

  “Maybe she caught someone trying to take the diamonds from her, and that person got scared and killed her,” George suggested, shrugging.

  “That makes sense,” Nancy agreed. “Or maybe the guilty person is someone who might profit from her death. I don’t see what reason Cy Baxter would have, or his assistant. Joanna Burton’s agent, Stephanie, would only lose money if she murdered the actress.”

  Nancy paused, snapping her fingers. “The only person who’s come out ahead in this scheme is Morgan Fowler. He has a role in a movie and a new agent!”

  Bess pulled the car up to the curb and honked. After climbing in, Nancy and George quickly filled Bess in on what they had been discussing.

  “What?” Bess exclaimed, her mouth hanging open. “Do you really think she’d steal her own diamonds and let someone else take the blame?”

  “Maybe if she wanted to make a film comeback badly enough,” Nancy answered. “I wish I could go out to Joanna Burton’s house and look around, but I’m sure the police have it sealed off. Maybe I could find something out there to help me figure this out.”

  “Like the diamonds?” Bess asked.

  Nancy nodded. “Or some clue as to who Miss Burton’s killer was.”

  Within minutes the girls had arrived at the Provence Inn. As soon as they got to Nancy and George’s room Bess went for Ted’s videocassette recorder, and George unpacked their dinner.

  “Don’t think about doing anything but resting tonight,” Bess told Nancy. “You’re getting into bed and staying there.”

  Nancy didn’t protest. Her ankle was throbbing painfully, and she didn’t think she could have made it to Joanna Burton’s house even if there was a way for her to get in. When Bess brought her two of her pills for pain, Nancy took them gratefully.

  “Let’s eat and watch the movie at the same time,” Bess suggested, slipping the videocassette into the VCR.

  When Bess turned off the lights, Nancy set her half-eaten roast beef sandwich aside and tried to get comfortable. She wasn’t sure she’d seen this movie before. It opened with Trish attending a formal dinner. There were lots of people Nancy knew she should be able to name but couldn’t. About halfway through the dinner one of the guests discovered that her diamond ring was missing.

  Nancy blinked, trying to stay awake. “Boy, this medicine is really making me sleepy,” she murmured.

  “Mmm,” Bess said vaguely, her attention focused on the screen.

  Nancy’s lids were growing heavier and heavier. She decided to rest her eyes for just a minute.

  • • •

  In the back of her mind Nancy heard a squeaking noise she couldn’t quite identify. “Hmm—what—”

  She cracked open an eye, trying to figure out what was making the noise, then came fully awake when she saw daylight streaming in the window.

  “Wow, it’s morning,” she said, sitting up. She was still wearing her clothes, but someone had covered her with a blanket. The noise she’d heard was George turning off the shower.

  A moment later George came out of the bathroom, wearing a bathrobe and drying her short, dark hair with a towel. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she greeted Nancy cheerfully.

  “What time is it?” Nancy asked.

  “Almost nine o’clock. You slept for hours,” George told her.

  “I feel so lazy.” Nancy stretched. “Once I took that medicine, I just couldn’t stay awake.”

  “How’s your ankle this morning?” George asked.

  Nancy gingerly moved her left foot, rotating it in a circle. It felt stiff, but not nearly so painful as it had the night before. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she gingerly put her weight on her left leg.

  “It still hurts, but not much,” she announced.

  The telephone rang just then, and Nancy reached out to answer it. “Hi, Mr. Menendez,” she said. “I’m fine. Really.”

  Nancy laughed. “I don’t think I’m ready for golf,” she said, and she noticed George’s face light up. “But George might want to go. Here, I’ll put her on.”

  George shook her head and backed away. “I’m not going to leave you here alone,” she whispered.

  Nancy covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “That’s silly. You love golf, and this is your chance to play.”

  She held the phone out again, and this time George took it. “You’re sure? What will you do?” she asked Nancy.

  Nancy nodded. “Right now I’m going to take a long, hot shower. I’ll be fine,” she assured George.

  While George spoke to Mr. Menendez, Nancy grabbed some fresh clothes and stepped into the small, steamy bathroom.

  “Bess is here with breakfast,” George yelled just as Nancy finished dressing and rewrapping her ankle with the Ace bandage.

  “How’d the movie turn out last night?” she asked as she joined Bess and George at the small table set up in the kitchenette.

  “Trish Tottenham solved the mystery and caught the bad guys,” Bess said with a grin. “As usual.”

  George finished up her apple muffin, then stood up. “Sorry to eat and run, but I’ve got to meet Mr. Menendez in the lobby in about two minutes,” she said. “Leave a note if you guys go anywhere, okay?” With a quick wave she grabbed her golf clubs and left.

  “So what should we do today?” Nancy asked, smiling at Bess. “I’m glad you’ve got the day off.”

  Getting up from the table, Bess went over to Nancy’s bed and flopped down on it. “I think I need a break from that place.”

  “The restaurant?” Nancy asked. “I thought you loved it there.”

  “I do—I mean, I did.” She sighed, tugging at the hem of the open-weave sweater she wore over her red tank top and bicycle shorts. “It’s not the work that’s getting to me. And I really like Ted, too. It’s just that, well—he gets pretty jealous when you guys are around. It’s kind of hard on me.

  Nancy wasn’t sure of what to say. “He does seem kind of possessive about you,” she finally ventured.

  “He doesn’t mean anything by it,” Bess hurried to add. “But—”

  She broke off as the phone rang. Reaching over, Bess picked up the receiver and said, “Hello? Hi, Ted.”

  Nancy sipped on a glass of orange juice and poured milk over her cereal.

  “You promised me you’d put those tarts away so they wouldn’t spoil,” Bess said into the receiver angrily.

  Nancy saw Bess’s face turn red. “Nancy and George have been here two days, and we haven’t done any of the things I’d planned. Can’t you order something from one of the bakeries? Oh, okay, I guess I could do that,” Bess said reluctantly. Then she slammed the receiver down.

  “I can’t believe it,” she told Nancy. “I asked Ted to do one simple thing—put the pastries in the refrigerator when he closed up last night. Well, he forgot, and t
hey spoiled. So I have to go make something to serve today.”

  Nancy felt awful for her friend. Bess was obviously upset that their day together was being interrupted. “Did he say why he couldn’t get desserts from someplace else?” Nancy asked.

  “He said some people are coming just to try my desserts,” she said.

  Nancy frowned. She wouldn’t be surprised if Ted had lied. Then, smiling at Bess, she managed to say, “Go on and make the desserts. You can probably be done before George gets back. Then we can all do something together this afternoon. It will do me good to rest my ankle a little longer.”

  Bess came over and gave Nancy a hug. “Thanks for being so understanding. What will you do all morning?”

  “I think I might watch the end of the Trish Tottenham movie,” Nancy said.

  “Good idea. I’ll set it up.” Bess went over to the TV and turned it on. “Tell me when you want me to stop.”

  Nancy moved over to the bed, carrying her juice. She watched the high-speed action on the screen until she saw a scene she didn’t remember. “Stop,” she said.

  “Call me at the restaurant if you need anything,” Bess said, and then she left.

  Settling back on her bed, Nancy turned her attention to what was happening on screen. In the movie, Joanna Burton in her Trish Tottenham role was searching for a stolen diamond. Nancy wasn’t exactly clear as to who had taken the gem, but Trish seemed to know exactly whom she was after. Trish carefully searched a house as music played to a crescendo in the background. When she found the diamond, Nancy was struck by the simplicity of the hiding place.

  “I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed, staring at the screen. “I know where Joanna Burton hid her diamonds! I’ve got to get out to her house now!”

  Nancy stood up, ignoring the slight twinge of pain in her ankle. She grimaced as she slipped her swollen left foot into her sneaker, but she finally managed to get it on, leaving the laces very loosely tied.

  Nancy scribbled a quick note to Bess and George telling them where she was going. Then she grabbed her purse and rummaged for the keys to the rental car.

  She limped out to the car. As she unlocked the door, Nancy heard furtive footsteps approaching her from behind. Fear shot through her. Nancy whirled around and found herself face-to-face with Cy Baxter’s assistant.