From somewhere in the room, a telephone chirped. “Excuse me,” Ms. Bowers said. “I’m expecting a call from Paris.” She rose and crossed to an antique Chinese lacquer cabinet, opening it to take out a cordless phone. “Jean-Pierre? Salut! Comment ça va?” she spoke into it.
While Ms. Bowers continued in rapid-fire French, Nancy asked Gayle, “Did you see Cindy at all today?”
Gayle shook her head. “No. Her door was shut when I left, at around eight-thirty. I don’t know if she was still asleep or if she’d already gone out.”
“Were you modeling this morning?” Bess asked.
“No, I had the morning free,” Gayle told her. “So I talked Jason into taking time off and meeting me for breakfast and some shopping. He’s working part-time in his uncle’s shipping company while he goes to business school.”
“Which reminds me, I’d better put in some library time,” Jason said. He came over and gave Gayle a peck on the cheek. “Call you later.”
He left. A moment later Ms. Bowers finished her call. “Well!” she said, beaming as she turned back to the girls. “Jean-Pierre is going to be in town next month to open a boutique at one of the big department stores. It’s sure to get nationwide TV and press coverage. And guess what agency he’s asking to supply all the models!”
“Ann, that’s glorious!” Gayle said, running over and giving her a hug. “I can hardly wait!”
“Congratulations, Ms. Bowers,” Nancy said politely. “That’s really exciting.” She paused, then added, “I wonder—would you mind if Bess and I take a look at Cindy’s room? We might find some clue to what happened to her.”
Ms. Bowers’s face sobered. “Yes, of course,” she replied. “It’s just down the hall, the first door on the left. Please call if I can help you in any way.”
After locating the room, Nancy and Bess opened Cindy’s door and paused to look around. Like the living room, the bedroom had thick carpeting and wide windows overlooking the lake.
“Wow, fabulous!” Bess commented. “I’d love to have that Bruce Springsteen poster.”
Nancy smiled. Cindy had hung the picture of the high-energy rock star right next to a huge poster for a movie of Sleeping Beauty. It looked like the Boss was trying to wake up the fairy-tale princess, with no luck. Over the bed, a shelf full of stuffed animals watched placidly. The other furnishings included a low white dresser, a wicker chair with a flowered cushion, and an old-fashioned dressing table topped by a big triple mirror. A stereo sat on the floor near the chair, with CDs and cassettes scattered around it.
To Nancy, the room spoke of someone who enjoyed surrounding herself with nice things and who could afford to do it. That didn’t match very well with the picture Gayle had painted of a nervous, depressed runaway.
Nancy nodded to a closet door in the corner. “Let’s see if Cindy’s running outfit is gone,” she suggested. “At least that would tell us that she disappeared during her morning run.”
She pulled the door open, revealing a walk-in closet jammed with clothes. On the floor were a dozen or more pairs of shoes, from brightly colored suede flats to high-tech cross-trainers.
Looking over Nancy’s shoulder, Bess sighed longingly at the sight of all those clothes. “I see three or four running suits hanging up,” she said. “And she could’ve been wearing still another one.”
Nancy nodded. “It’s no use trying to have Gayle or Ms. Bowers figure out what Cindy might be wearing,” she said. “She’s got so much stuff here, even she probably couldn’t tell what was missing.”
“Free samples from trendy designers, I bet,” Bess said enviously as she turned away from the closet. “Hey, speaking of samples, this must be the cereal Cindy’s going to be advertising.”
Bess picked up a plain white box labeled Sample—Not for Public Distribution or Resale. The top flap was open. Bess shook some of the contents into her hand. Nancy thought that it looked like granola.
Bess popped the handful into her mouth. “Hey, not bad,” she decided. “Not bad at all.”
Nancy grinned. “As soon as you’re done with snack time, can we go on with our search?”
Bess blushed. “Sorry,” she said. Taking one more handful, she put the cereal box down and began going through the drawers of the dresser.
Nancy spent a few more minutes on the closet, then checked out the small adjoining bathroom. In the shower stall, she saw several small bottles of shampoos, most of them brands she’d never heard of. The cabinet over the sink was filled with natural cold remedies and allergy medicines.
Nancy read the labels on a few of the containers. Did Cindy have real health problems, or was she one of those people who took something every time they had a sniffle? she wondered.
After a further look around, she returned to the bedroom. “Find anything?” she asked Bess.
“Not really,” Bess replied. “You?”
Nancy made a face. “No,” she answered. “Let’s see if we can get Cindy’s boyfriend to tell us anything. He must know something that would help.”
Finding Ms. Bowers in her home office, they asked to use her phone there. Nancy dialed the number Charmaine had given her for Cody. After three rings, she heard an unusual buzz. A moment later, an oddly echoing voice said, “Hello?”
“Hello, is that Cody? This is Nancy Drew,” she responded.
“Oh, good, I’ve been trying to reach you,” Cody said. “No one at Festa’s place seemed to know where you’d gone. I had my calls forwarded to my car phone, so I wouldn’t miss you. Listen, I need to talk to you. Can we get together?”
“You have some news about Cindy?” Nancy asked eagerly. Cody seemed much more willing to cooperate now than he had earlier.
“I’ll tell you when I see you,” he said. “I’m on my way back from Evanston now. Let’s meet on the steps of the Art Institute in half an hour. Just so you’ll recognize me, I’ve got black hair and I’m wearing a red sweater.”
Nancy checked her watch and said, “Okay, my friend Bess and I will be there.”
On the way out, Nancy questioned the doorman. He knew Cindy well, but he hadn’t seen her leave the building that morning. “She could have gone out through the garage, though,” he said. “You girls want a cab?”
• • •
The Art Institute was a sprawling museum set in a park near the lake. Nancy and Bess arrived right on time and waited near one of the two large bronze lions flanking the wide steps.
“I don’t see anyone in a red sweater,” Nancy said, scanning the steps and the sidewalk.
“I do,” Bess replied. “Across the street, waiting for the light—see him? Wow, look at those shoulders. He must work out a lot.”
When the light changed, the guy in the red sweater crossed the street with an easy stride. He had the build of a running back, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He had a square-jawed face and thick black hair. Spotting Bess and Nancy, he waved and jogged over to them.
