Famous Mistakes

by Carolyn Keene

  “Of course,” I said. “Erica already picked the locks for us!”

  We rushed in and made our way to the gallery where the Dutch masters exhibit would open this weekend. The walls were lined with over twenty Dutch master paintings. There were stark portraits and perfectly crafted still lifes, but right in the middle of the east wall was a blank spot. We raced over. The name plaque was still there. It read THE ZEBRA FINCH.

  “This whole case was just a distraction from stealing The Zebra Finch,” I told them. “I knew I missed something!”

  Bess let out an anguished cry. “I can’t believe this,” she wailed.

  “The fire alarm must have covered the sound of the alarm when the painting was taken off the wall,” George theorized.

  “But even if the police didn’t put him in jail overnight, there’s no way Louis would have been processed at the station and gotten back here in time,” Ned said.

  I shook my head. “No, he must have an accomplice,” I said.

  “But who is it?” asked Bess.

  Now that I understood what this case was about, all the pieces were snapping into place, and I knew the answer to that question. “Think about it,” I said. “Who was the real brains behind the protests?”

  “Erica Vega!” Ned, George, and Bess all said together. I nodded.

  “Now we just need to find her . . . and The Zebra Finch,” Bess said.

  “Okay, but let’s go in teams of two,” Ned said. “No one gets bashed on the head again. We stick together.”

  We split up. Ned and I headed to the right, while George and Bess went to the left.

  I looked down at the floor and something caught my eye. It looked like tracks in the wax coating of the floor.

  “This way,” I told Ned. “Follow these tracks!”

  “How do you know this is her?” Ned said.

  “She can’t just waltz out with the painting under her arm. It’s one of the most famous paintings in the world. She’d have to hide it somewhere, and it’s like two and a half feet by three and a half feet. She can’t just stick it in her purse.”

  “These are suitcase tracks!” Ned exclaimed.

  “Exactly.”

  The tracks ended at a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. I yanked it open. I was surprised to see a pair of legs kicking in my face.

  “She’s climbing out the window,” I shouted.

  Ned reached up and grabbed the legs, trying to pull Erica back down.

  “Where’s the painting?” Ned asked, as Erica thrashed her legs, trying to get free of his grip.

  I looked around. There was no suitcase.

  “She must have gotten it through the window first,” I said. Bess and George came running up behind me.

  “We’ll go get it,” Bess said.

  They turned to head to the door, when all of a sudden the doors came flying open and police came running in.

  “FREEZE!” they yelled. Instinctively we all put our hands in the air. Then suddenly one of them stopped. “Nancy Drew, is that you?” It was Officer Parker of the River Heights Police Department. “We’re here responding to a burglary alarm. What are you doing here?”

  Before I could answer, Ned yelled out, “She’s getting away.” He had let go of Erica’s feet when the police came in, and fittingly, she had used the distraction to climb through the window.

  “The thief just climbed through that window!” I told Officer Parker. “She has The Zebra Finch. You have to stop her.”

  Officer Parker hesitated for a second. All the other officers looked at him, waiting for directions. He was clearly torn between taking all of us in for questioning or listening to what I’d said. Finally he said, “If Nancy Drew says the thief is getting away, the thief is getting away. Let’s go get her!”

  They tore out of the gallery. My friends and I hesitated for all of two seconds before taking off after them.

  We made it around the corner of the building to the parking lot just as Officer Parker was slapping handcuffs on Erica.

  Another officer opened the suitcase a few feet away. He pivoted it toward us; there was The Zebra Finch, still in its frame, safe and sound.

  Just at that moment, Joe came rushing over, followed directly by my father. They looked between my friends and me, Erica in her handcuffs, and the suitcase with The Zebra Finch. Joe stood there with his mouth opening and closing in shock as I could see him piecing together what had happened.

  After a moment, Joe looked at Erica and asked, “Why?”

  “I’m up to my eyeballs in student loans,” she said. “I borrowed so much money to study art history in school and for what? To teach community art classes in River Heights?”

  “This was just about money?” I asked. “Everything you taught about art and free speech and the responsibility of the artist was just to rile up protesters to provide a distraction for your heist? You didn’t mean any of it?”

  Erica gave me a withering look. “I meant every word. Two things can be true at once, you know. I can need money and I can believe that Brady Owens is an irresponsible artist and should be held accountable for his actions.”

  Joe grimaced. “I wish I had listened to what my community was trying to tell me,” he told her. “This is supposed to be a space where River Heights can come together. I was so sure I was right, that I couldn’t get in the way of free speech. But my community was trying to tell me something. They were trying really hard to get me to hear them. I should have listened. I should have met with them so we could come to a decision together. If I had, none of this would have happened.”

  Everyone paused to let his words sink in.

  Officer Parker broke the silence, “Okay, it’s time to go. Joe, we’ll need you to come give a statement later on.” He gave us a nod and lead Erica away.

  Joe watched her leave, still processing everything that had happened. Then he turned to me. “Thanks for saving The Zebra Finch. I never could have lived with myself if it had gotten stolen on my watch.”

  “My pleasure,” I said.

  “I need to admit something else,” he said. “I went up early to Brady’s room and saw that it had been destroyed before I met him for lunch. My first thought was to run down to tell security. But then a little voice told me this break-in could be karma for what he’d done at that talent show so many years ago. I paced back and forth, wrestling with my conscience for what must have been fifteen or twenty minutes. I’m sorry to say, the little voice won in the end.”

  “I guess time doesn’t heal all wounds,” I said.

  “I guess not,” said Joe.

  Suddenly the adrenaline that had been driving me for the past several hours drained out of me and I was exhausted.

  “I think it’s time to go home,” I told them. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Don’t forget your injury,” Ned reminded me.

  “Injury?!” my dad squawked, approaching us.

  “I just hit my head. I’m fine.”

  “It’s more than that,” Bess said. “She got hit hard.”

  “We’re going to urgent care. Now,” my dad said.

  “What about the rest of Brady’s show?” I asked. “You don’t want to miss that.”

  “It’s fine,” said Ned. “We can say goodbye to him in the morning.”

  “Your head is more important than Brady’s show,” my dad barked. “Come on.”

  “Okay,” I said. My head throbbed and I was starting to think going to see a doctor wasn’t a bad idea.

  The next morning Ned and I approached the Towering Heights Resort to find Brady packing up his car. The doctor had determined that I had avoided a concussion. She said to take it easy and rest, but I was lucky and had just ended up with a bad bruise.

  “Heading to the next city?” Ned asked.

  “Yep. Amherst, Massachusetts, here I come,” said Brady.

  “Sorry we missed the end of your show,” I said.

  “Are you kidding?” he asked. “As excuses go, ‘I was saving a world-famous
painting from being stolen’ is one of the better ones.”

  I laughed.

  “I just can’t believe I was used as bait in an art heist. That’s crazy stuff. Might be movie material, honestly.”

  I spotted Tami walking towards us, her arms swinging in her signature confident stride. She walked right up to Brady.

  “Hi, I’m Tami, I’m the leader of the River Heights Victims’ Rights Advocates.” She shook Brady’s hand. “And I wanted to apologize.”

  “For organizing a boycott of my show?” Brady asked. “There’s no need to apologize. I’m glad you did. You got me to listen to things I needed to hear.”

  “No, of course not. I’m proud of the work we’ve done. And I caught your show last night. I’m glad you apologized on stage; that was the right thing to do,” Tami said. “I need to apologize about yesterday. You see, I went to your hotel room to deliver the signed petitions asking you to cancel your show, but when I got up there, the door was open. I saw your notebook just sitting on the desk and I could see that you were working on new jokes. And at that point you were still acting like jokes were just jokes. Like you could do anything without consequence. I thought ripping them up would finally get the message across. And I’ve felt badly about it ever since. Ripping up those pages goes against what I believe and it was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  Tami looked at Brady and waited for his response.

  “You know what?” he said after a few seconds. “I’m glad you did it. You were right. Those jokes were destructive. They were so destructive that someone was able to use me and what I’d said to cause such a kerfuffle that she could try to steal a painting. If I wasn’t a comedian who insulted people, she couldn’t have used me. I need to start over and think about what I actually want to say, so I’m glad you came over and said sorry, but I am going to say thank you.”

  He reached out and shook Tami’s hand again. Tami and Brady were smiling, both were clearly happy with the turn of events.

  “All right, kids, I gotta hit the road if I’m going to make it to Amherst on time. Thanks for everything, Nancy. I hope Carson writes about this case in the Christmas letter. It’s a doozy. Ned, good talking to you. Send me the link to the interview when it’s up. Tami, thanks for hastening my artistic reinvention.”

  He waved goodbye and climbed into his car. He honked his horn as he pulled onto the street, heading toward the highway. Tami took off back where she came from, but Ned and I stayed put for a moment.

  “That was a close one,” I said. “I almost didn’t solve it.”

  “But in the end you did,” Ned said. “You saved Brady’s show and The Zebra Finch. Two cases in one!” He took my hand and squeezed it in congratulations. “What do you want to do today?”

  “Want to edit the podcast and get it posted while the world is still talking about Brady Owens?” I asked.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Ned agreed, as we headed off to our day.

  Dear Diary,

  * * *

  * * *

  * * *

  I CAN’T BELIEVE ERICA VEGA and Louis Flynn tried to steal one of the most famous paintings in the world! And they almost got away with it too. This was one of the most complicated cases I’d ever solved. Ned was right when he described it as two cases in one. In the end, though, The Zebra Finch was safe, and it seemed like Brady had learned a lesson about the power of words, so I guess it all worked out. I just wish it hadn’t been quite so close!

  * * *

  * * *

  About the Author

  Carolyn Keene is the bestselling author of the popular Nancy Drew series of books.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  First Aladdin paperback edition January 2019

  Text copyright © 2019 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Cover illustration copyright © 2019 by Erin McGuire

  Also available in an Aladdin hardcover edition.

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  Cover designed by Nina Simoneaux

  Interior designed by Mike Rosamilia

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Keene, Carolyn, author.

  Title: Famous mistakes / by Carolyn Keene.

  Description: First Aladdin hardcover/paperback edition. | New York : Aladdin, 2018. | Series: Nancy Drew diaries ; #17 | Summary: Nancy and her sleuthing friends race to find out who is responsible for sabotaging a controversial comedian’s upcoming performance at River Heights’s new arts complex, where an exhibition of Dutch Masters is being installed.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017058788 (print) | LCCN 2018004182 (eBook) | ISBN 9781481485517 (eBook) | ISBN 9781481485494 (pbk) | ISBN 9781481485500 (hc)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Mystery and detective stories. | Comedians—Fiction. | Sabotage—Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.K23 (eBook) | LCC PZ7.K23 Fb 2018 (print) | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017058788