“Thank you for sharing that with us,” Terry replied in a dry tone as they got into the van.
“And there’s something none of you have thought of,” Amy went on.
“What’s that?” Nancy asked. Even if Amy was acting up, she was too sharp to ignore.
“Those dog tags don’t mean that Nick Finney is back,” Amy said. “What if someone else stole his dog tags and left them there?”
“The man in the dark red car,” Bess said at once.
“I told you so,” Amy said in a smug tone. “He’s the one who was following us.”
“That’s even more reason to get you to the Peninsula,” her father said between clenched teeth.
The ride south was a quiet one. Nancy wasn’t sure if it was because everyone was thinking about Nick Finney and the man in the dark red car, or because there was a silent battle of wills going on between Terry and Amy.
The Peninsula was a good two and a half hours south of Cherry Creek. With a stop for lunch the ride from the show was about five hours altogether. It felt more like ten. Everyone except Amy seemed relieved when Terry finally pulled up in the driveway of a white split-level house.
“I don’t like Aunt Marge’s cooking,” Amy said, eyeing the house with distaste.
“Amy, get out of the car,” her father said, his patience clearly at an end.
Amy looked at Nancy. “Promise you’ll call if anything exciting happens?”
“I promise,” Nancy said.
The three friends watched the Kirklands walk up to the house, ring the doorbell, and be admitted by a boy who looked about Amy’s age.
“Maybe we should ask to stay, too,” Bess said in a worried tone. “I don’t like the idea of going back to Cherry Creek and finding someone who was supposed to be dead waiting for us.”
“Terry offered to help us find another place to stay,” Nancy said. “We could take him up on that.”
“No, we can’t,” George said. “Take a look at that.” She pointed to the front door of the house, where Terry and his daughter had just emerged. Terry looked annoyed, and Amy looked triumphant. “I have a funny feeling we’re still on call as baby-sitters.”
“What happened?” Bess asked as both Kirklands got back into the van and Terry started it up.
“My sister’s three-year-old has the chicken pox,” he replied.
“And I’ve never had them,” Amy added, sounding very pleased with herself. “Dad can’t risk exposing me.”
“No. Instead I’m going to expose you to someone who shot out my tire with a Colt .45, broke into the house three different times, nearly ran Nancy off the road, and now destroys my work in the middle of a crowded art show. I must be crazy.”
“At least I won’t get the chicken pox,” Amy said.
“Maybe we should all take hotel rooms,” George suggested.
“Putting up you three is no problem,” Terry said at once. “I’ll be glad to get rooms for you in the hotel of your choice. But how long are Amy and I supposed to avoid our own house? My studio is there. If I’m not home, I can’t work.”
“Amy could stay with us,” Bess offered.
“I’m not leaving my dad!” Amy insisted.
“What about police protection?” George asked. “Can’t you get them to watch the house?”
“I can barely get Detective Brower to return a phone call,” Terry said bitterly. “I already asked for protection and was told there wasn’t enough staff.”
Nancy knew her own decision had been made, but she didn’t want to endanger her friends. “I’m going back to Cherry Creek with Terry and Amy,” she told Bess and George. “But there’s a nice bed and breakfast inn the next town over. Maybe you should stay there for a couple of nights—until things calm down.”
“No way,” George said. “We’re in this together.”
“Right,” Bess added loyally, but she didn’t sound as sure.
Amy grinned at the three friends. “It sounds like we’ve still got a full house.”
Terry shook his head as he drove toward the city. “Sounds like we’re all crazy.”
• • •
“Do you have the camera?” Nancy asked Joanne the next morning as they entered a café in Sausalito. They’d decided to have breakfast before going to the gallery. Joanne chose an outdoor table in the sun, then sat down and reached into her shirt pocket. She took something out and opened her palm, revealing a miniature camera. It couldn’t have been more than three inches long.
“This took those great pictures?” Nancy asked doubtfully. “I mean, it’s adorable and all—”
“But it looks like a toy,” Joanne said, finishing Nancy’s thought. “Trust me. It really works. It even has a silent shutter, so no one hears it snapping. I like to think of it as my spy camera.”
“That’s good,” Nancy said, “because that’s exactly what we need. I think there was something in the stolen trunk that wound up in Mai’s gallery. But I don’t know what it is, so I’d like to photograph as many of the things there as possible, even if we don’t get into the back room. Photograph anything and everything that could have fit into a trunk that was two feet by three feet. And not just jade—ashtrays, files, anything.”
“And you’re going to distract Mr. Mai?”
“I’ll do my best,” Nancy said. “But I think once I get him started lecturing, he’ll pretty much take care of that himself. Last time he got so wrapped up in what he was saying that he didn’t pay much attention to me.” She smiled. “Except when I raced out of his gallery to chase his nephew.”
