Detective Brower just stared. At last he glanced at the technician and said, “Dust it for prints. Then I want you to take prints from Kirkland, Ms. Drew here, and the kid.” He glanced at Bess and George. “Did either of you handle it?”
Bess and George both said they hadn’t touched the trunk. Nancy, Terry, and Amy all had their fingerprints taken.
“We’re going to take the trunk with us as evidence,” Brower said. “We’ll let you know when you can have it back.”
“Are you going to check out the Fe T’sui Gallery?” Nancy asked the detective.
Brower ignored her. “I’ll let you know what we find,” he told Terry.
“That man has no manners!” Bess cried when Brower and the technician were gone.
George agreed. “He makes you want to solve the case first, just to irritate him.”
Nancy smiled. “We may just have to do that. I’d better get started—I’m going to call the veterans’ group.”
Nancy made the call. But when she asked about Nick Finney, she was told that they didn’t have any information. Instead, she was given another number to call.
After five such phone calls Nancy finally reached someone who was able to pull the soldier’s record. She asked for his date of birth and the date when he was declared missing, then did some quick subtraction. “He was only eighteen when he disappeared?” she asked.
“That’s right,” the man said.
“Is there anything else?” Nancy asked. “Has anyone heard from him since he vanished?”
There was the sound of a computer keyboard in the background, and then the man’s reply. “He was on a classified mission. Eleven men died, Finney not among them. Our government looked into the possibility that he was taken prisoner of war. . . . I’m sorry, there isn’t anything else.”
Still Nancy wouldn’t give up. “When someone’s been missing that long,” she said, “what do you generally think has happened to them?”
The man hesitated. “Did you know Finney personally?”
“No,” Nancy said.
“He’s not a relative of yours?”
“No.”
“All right, then,” the man continued. “Let me be completely honest with you. Considering where that boy was and when, you could bet money on the fact that Nicholas Finney has been dead for years.”
7
Quicksilver
Nancy sat in the kitchen, staring at the telephone receiver. She was eighteen, the same age Nick Finney had been when he disappeared. She shuddered as she tried to imagine what might have befallen the young soldier in the jungles of Vietnam.
She went upstairs and changed into a white button-down blouse, a denim vest, and a denim skirt for her interview with Mr. Mai. “Do I look like someone studying Asian art?” Nancy asked as Bess came into the room behind her.
Bess frowned. “Not particularly, but you do look like a student. Maybe you could wear some Oriental jewelry.”
“I don’t have any,” Nancy said, putting on a pair of small turquoise earrings. “I guess these will have to do. What are you and George doing today?”
“Casseroles,” Bess replied.
“Eggplant, crab, apple, spinach, and turkey, just for starters,” George added, coming into the room. “And what I really want to do is rent mountain bikes and go trail riding.”
“I want to go up to Calistoga and take a mud bath,” Bess said wistfully.
Nancy looked at her friends with concern. “This trip isn’t turning out to be much fun for you, is it?”
“Actually,” George said, “we’re having a lot of fun hanging out with Joanne. I just wish we could do something besides work on wedding preparations. If I ever get married, I’m definitely eloping.”
“No, you’re not,” Bess said. “I insist on going to your wedding and making sure you get the right wedding dress. Aren’t you glad I picked out the green one you’re wearing to Joanne’s wedding?”
George rolled her eyes. Nancy laughed and said, “You’ll get a break soon, I promise. Terry has an art show tomorrow, and since Amy’s school has the day off for a teacher’s conference, we can all go.”
“I still think one of us should go to the gallery with you,” George said.
Nancy shook her head. “No, I don’t want to make Mr. Mai suspicious. I’ve got to do this on my own.”
• • •
At eleven o’clock Nancy parked outside the Fe T’sui Gallery. Just to be prepared, she took one last look at the notes she’d taken in the library. At a quarter after eleven she entered the gallery.
Again she was greeted by the young blond woman at the mahogany desk.
“Is Mr. Mai here?” Nancy asked. “I have an appointment with him.”
The young woman took her name, made a phone call, and then told Nancy that Mr. Mai would be with her in a few minutes. Nancy took advantage of the wait and had another look around. No one else was in the gallery, she noted, and the display hadn’t changed since the day before. An intricately carved statue of a dragon with one claw raised high caught her attention.
“So you like my dragon?” The smooth voice at her elbow surprised Nancy, and she turned with a start.
