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Authors: Carolyn Keene

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BOOK: Cold as Ice
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“That makes sense,” Ned said, slowly nodding. “But how are we ever going to prove it?”

“I don't know,” Nancy admitted. She stood up and slung her skates over her shoulder. “I'm going to try to talk to him, but I don't know if it will get me anywhere. Come on. Let's go back and talk it over with the others. Maybe one of them will have a good idea.”

They found George and Bess in the student cafeteria, having breakfast. “All by yourselves?” Ned asked in surprise.

“Rob needs some study time, and Jerry has to run some errands,” Bess replied. “How was your skating date?”

“More exciting than we would have liked,” Nancy replied as she and Ned sat down. She quickly told them about her near accident. Then she told them about her suspicions of Whorf.

“But, Nancy,” George protested, “the theft happened during or right after the fire in the boat house.”

“That's right,” Nancy replied. “That was when the museum guards were distracted and the alarm system was turned off.”

“Then I don't see how Whorf can be the thief,” George said. “He was with the other speakers at the dedication of the new rowing tank.”

Nancy thought back to the ceremony the previous morning. “You're absolutely right,” she said. “As a matter of fact, the coach had just finished
thanking him when we noticed the smoke coming in from the boat house. So much for my bright idea.”

“Hold on,” Bess said. “What if he hired somebody to steal the jewels for him? Of course he'd arrange to be somewhere else, in plain sight, when it happened.”

“You're right,” Nancy told her. “An important, well-known man like Whorf would probably find someone else to do his dirty work. I can't see him sneaking down to the lake to remove those sawhorses, but I can imagine him telling somebody else to do it.”

Maybe that was where Greg fit in, she added to herself. She decided not to say anything to the others, though—not until she had more proof.

“I'll tell you what,” Ned said, glancing at his watch. “You remember Frazier, the redheaded guy who was in the museum? He's a reporter at the Emerson radio station. I'm going to hunt him up. I bet the station has background files on the trustees of the college. Maybe I can find something in Whorf's file.”

“Good idea,” Nancy replied. “If you don't find us here, we'll be down working on our snow sculptures.” She grinned at him. “I wouldn't want the judges to be disappointed in my work.”

Ned reached over to ruffle her hair, then stood up and headed for the cafeteria door. “Anybody
for more coffee or tea?” she started to ask, as a frantic voice interrupted.

“Are you Nancy Drew?”

Nancy turned to see a heavyset guy with a worried look on his round face. “Yes. Is something wrong?”

“Rob Harper asked me to find you right away. It's the police,” the guy said. “They just came into my room—I mean Rob's room. We're roommates. Anyway, they have a search warrant, and I think they're planning to arrest Rob!”

Bess's eyes widened, and George nearly choked on the sip of coffee she was taking. “I can't believe it,” George said. “Can't they leave the poor guy alone?”

“Don't worry,” Nancy said, patting George's shoulder. Turning back to Rob's roommate, she said, “We'd better go back with you and find out exactly what's going on.”

When they got to Rob's room, Sergeant Balsam was there, taking books off the shelves and peering behind them. Another police officer was going through Rob's dresser drawers, while a third was examining the closet. Rob was sitting dejectedly on a bed, his head in his hands. When he saw Nancy, he jumped to his feet. “Boy, am I glad to see you!”

Nancy gave him an encouraging smile as she, Bess, and George stepped into the room. “We
came to offer moral support.” She turned to Sergeant Balsam and asked, “Is there some new evidence? Is that why you're searching Rob's room?”

The sergeant ignored her.

“What are you looking for, anyway?” Rob asked. “There's nothing here for you to find.”

Balsam didn't answer. He finished with the bookshelves and sat down to look through Rob's desk drawers.

“Why are you picking on me?” Rob asked. “How am I supposed to bring my grades up with all this going on? It's not fair!”

Nancy sympathized with Rob, but she could tell he was only making the situation worse. As the sergeant left the desk and began to look under the mattress of Rob's bed, one of the other policemen picked up Rob's tan parka.

A frown came over the officer's face as he reached into one of the pockets. He pulled something out, but Nancy couldn't see what it was.

“Sergeant?” the officer said quietly.

“You got something?” Balsam said.

The officer stretched out his right hand and opened it. Nancy gasped. In his palm, a ruby and diamond earring glittered.

“That's one of the empress's earrings from the museum!” Bess exclaimed.

Chapter

Twelve

S
ERGEANT
B
ALSAM
and Nancy stepped over at the same time to get a closer look at the earring.

“Where did you find it?” Balsam demanded.

“It was inside the left-hand pocket of this parka,” the officer replied.

The sergeant turned to Rob. “Is this your parka?”

Rob looked stunned. “Why, yes, sure. But I never—”

Balsam pulled a small card out of his shirt pocket and began to read.” “‘You have the right to remain silent. You' ”

“Sergeant,” Nancy cut in urgently. “Before you go any further, may I look at that earring?”

Balsam frowned at her a moment, then said, “Okay, but no funny business.”

The police officer held up the earring. Nancy peered at it, then bent to see the back. “Doesn't that stud fastener look awfully modern to you, Sergeant?” she asked.

“That's not something I know a lot about,” the sergeant replied in an even tone.

Nancy leaned in so that her face almost touched the police officer's hand, and then straightened up. “Sergeant,” she said, “I'm no expert, either. But I'm ready to bet you that the Empress of Austria didn't wear ruby earrings stamped ‘Made in Hong Kong'!”

“What! Here, let me see that!” Balsam sputtered. He grabbed the earring from the officer and carried it over to the window, where the light was better. When he turned back, his face was red with anger and embarrassment.

“All right, so this is a fake,” he admitted grudgingly. “But don't forget that the thief replaced the stolen jewelry with fakes that looked a lot like this, to delay discovery of the theft. This earring may not be part of the loot, but it's evidence just the same.”

“I never saw it before!” Rob protested.

Nancy put her hand on his arm. “It wouldn't matter even if you had,” she told him. “There's
no law against having a piece of costume jewelry in your pocket. Am I right, Sergeant Balsam?”

He gave her a look in which she saw grudging respect mixed with his irritation. “That's right. But I'm going to hold on to this earring all the same. I'll give you a receipt,” he told Rob.

“It's not mine,” Rob insisted. “I don't want a receipt.”

Balsam paid no attention. He scribbled out the receipt and handed it to Rob, who stared at it as if it were poison.

Balsam turned to his officers. “Are you done in here?” he asked. When they nodded, he said, “Okay, let's move out.”

Nancy followed the police to the door. “Sergeant, have you decided to check out that gas can?” she asked. “I really think—”

He held up his hand. “I know, I know. It's an important clue. Well, Ms. Drew, it's not really any of your business, but we went by that shed this morning and collected the gas can. It's empty, by the way, and it has no fingerprints whatsoever on it.”

Nancy stared. “But, Sergeant, don't you see why there aren't any prints? Because somebody carefully wiped them off!”

“I thought of that,” Balsam said patiently. “Also it's wintertime, and around here people
wear gloves when they're outside. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot to do.”

He turned and started to leave, but Nancy said, “Wait a minute. Don't you want the museum label I found yesterday?”

Sergeant Balsam paused long enough to take the white label she held out. He stuffed it in his pocket without looking at it, then followed his two officers down the stairs.

When Nancy reentered Rob's room, he said, “If it hadn't been for you, he would have arrested me.”

“He doesn't really have anything you could call evidence, just some peculiar circumstances.” She put a hand on his arm. “Rob, there's something I need to know. Where did you get that earring?”

“Nancy, I never saw that earring before in my life,” he said earnestly.

She nodded. “That's what I thought. After all, if you'd known the earring was in your pocket, you would have thrown it away rather than get caught with it. The question is, when and how did it find its way into your pocket?”

“The last time I wore the parka was to the restaurant last night. And all day yesterday after my crew jacket disappeared.”

“Where did you leave it at the restaurant?” asked Bess.

“On the coatrack near the door.” Rob shook his head. “This is hopeless. Anybody could have planted that earring in my pocket.”

“Anybody who was at the restaurant,” George said.

Nancy thought immediately of Whorf. He had seen them come in, and he had to have passed the coatrack when he left while they were still having dinner and their coats were still hanging there. But Nancy couldn't be sure Whorf knew Rob, even by sight.

Bess wrinkled her brow. “Do you really think the earring could have been in your pocket all evening without your knowing it?” she asked.

“What are you trying to say?” Rob retorted. “That I knew about it? That I had something to do with the theft?”

“No, of course not,” Bess said. She looked taken aback by the force of his reply. “But if we're trying to figure out when and where it was put there, it'd help to know when it
wasn't
there. Am I right?” she added, turning to Nancy.

“Sounds good to me,” Nancy said. “Rob, can you remember how often you reached into that pocket?”

“Sure,” he said promptly. “Practically never. Since I'm usually wearing gloves, I hardly ever use the pockets to keep my hands warm. For all I know, the earring could have been there for weeks.”

“Hmmm,” Nancy said. “I was hoping that something about this case would turn out to be simple. Still, the business with the earring does tell us one thing. The thief is still around, and the stolen jewels probably are, too.”

“Why do you say that?” George asked.

“Why would anyone try to frighten me off if he'd already gotten rid of the jewels? Also, the thief left so many false clues incriminating Rob that the police have spent all their time questioning him.”

“Okay,” Bess said, “but where does that take us?”

“How about this?” Nancy replied. She began pacing back and forth as she spoke. “The thief is still on campus. Whoever it is can't leave right away without creating suspicion—or maybe the thief put the jewels in a safe hiding place and has to wait to retrieve them. Framing Rob is meant to keep the police busy and distract them from looking too hard elsewhere on campus. Then, when we started investigating, the thief felt very threatened.” She paused and faced the others, who were looking at her expectantly. “I think we can expect more tries at planting evidence against Rob and at scaring us off.”

“Creepy!” said George. “And I thought we were coming here for a fun weekend!”

“We can still have fun,” Nancy said. “We just have to be careful.”

“Oh, no,” Bess said. “Ned and Jerry are expecting to meet us down at the lake. I bet they're wondering what's happened to us.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door, which opened slightly. “Hey, Rob,” Jerry said. “Have you seen—” His gaze landed on the girls. “There you are. We got cold waiting by the lake, so we decided to come look for you.”

When Ned and Jerry heard about the search warrant and the earring, Ned said, “We'd better solve this case fast if we want to keep Rob out of jail.”

Rob cleared his throat and said, “Look, I really appreciate what you're doing, all of you. But I don't want you to ruin your weekend just because of this mess I'm in.”

“How about this,” Ned said, “the rest of the morning, we try to get more evidence to clear Rob. Then, after lunch, we tear ourselves away from the case and do something carnival-y—and that includes you, Detective Drew,” Ned added sternly.

“How about hitting the slopes?” Jerry suggested. “It's a good day for it.”

BOOK: Cold as Ice
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ads

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