She stopped at the door. “I’m sorry if I was rude,” she said reluctantly. “Dad, can I go to the park after we see Detective Brower? Please? I’m supposed to meet Jimmy there.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” her father answered. “Now get ready to go.” He turned to Nancy with a sigh. “I apologize for my daughter’s behavior. I think she’s still upset about last night.”
“I would be, too, if I’d been kidnapped,” Nancy assured him. Her mind went back to the last thing Amy had said. “Do you know who Jimmy is?”
“Jimmy,” Terry repeated. “I think he’s in her class.” He grinned. “He’s the boy whose art projects all turn out looking like race cars.”
Nancy listened to this, remembering Amy’s wide-eyed expression when she’d first described Jimmy Thieu. It was time she had a talk with the girl.
Amy opened the door before Nancy even knocked. “What do you want?” she asked.
“I promise I won’t ask you about the kidnapping,” Nancy began, “but I’d like to talk to you.”
Amy nodded, and Nancy followed her into the room. She noted that Amy’s windows were the most beautiful of all. Each pane was framed by delicate purple morning glories winding through dark green vines.
“What a great room,” Nancy said. The girl was silent, and Nancy turned to face her. “Amy, are you angry with me?”
Amy sighed and sat cross-legged on her bed. “I don’t want my father hurt.”
“I don’t want anyone hurt, either,” Nancy told her. “Which is why I need to ask you about something else. Is the Jimmy you’re meeting in the park today in your class?”
“Mr. Indy Five Hundred?” Amy asked with a grin. “No way. I’m going to see Jimmy Thieu. He’s—” Her eyes widened and her grin vanished.
“Mr. Mai’s nephew,” Nancy finished.
Amy was silent again.
“He’s your friend, isn’t he?” Nancy asked.
“I practice speaking Vietnamese with him,” Amy said at last. “My mother taught me. Then she died, and I didn’t know anyone else who spoke it. Anyway, one Sunday I went to Sausalito with my friend Patricia and her parents. They have a boat there, and we went sailing. After, Patricia and I were hanging out on the dock, waiting for her parents to finish tying up the boat. This boy came up and began speaking Vietnamese. He asked me what I was doing so far from home.”
Nancy looked at her questioningly.
“He meant Vietnam,” Amy said. “He thought I was born there, too. I told him I wasn’t, and we talked a little.” Amy pushed back a lock of glossy black hair. “It felt great to speak Vietnamese again. I missed it.”
Nancy listened silently.
“So once a month he rides up here on his dirt bike, and we just talk together,” Amy finished. “He tells me what Vietnam was like. He wants to go back there someday.”
“Is that what he was doing the night I met him in your driveway?” Nancy asked. “Coming to talk to you?”
Amy shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know why he was here.”
“Did he know about the break-ins?” Nancy asked.
“Well, Jimmy did know I had the trunk. He was the one person I’d shown it to, because it was from Vietnam.” Amy paused for a moment. “He knows everything that goes on in his uncle’s gallery, too. He must have seen the trunk there and recognized it.”
Nancy sat down on the girl’s bed, trying to put all she’d heard together. “How do you know Jimmy isn’t working with whoever broke into the house?”
“Because he’d never do that to me!” Amy insisted.
“All right,” Nancy said in a soothing tone. “Jimmy wouldn’t steal from you. He’s your friend. Then why doesn’t your father know about him?”
“Jimmy doesn’t trust grown-ups, any of them. When he started coming up here, he made me promise not to tell any grown-ups about him.” Amy gave Nancy a half smile. “You’re only eighteen, so I guess you’re still okay.”
Nancy thought back to the way Amy had been surprisingly willing to go to bed the night the jade tiger disappeared from the gallery. “Amy, did Jimmy have something to do with the theft of the jade tiger?”
Amy began rifling through her closet, finally pulling out a denim jacket. “I can’t tell you any more now,” she said. She slipped on the jacket. “My dad’s waiting for me downstairs.”
• • •
Nancy, George, and Bess sat on the beach at Cherry Creek, watching the waves wash up against the shore. It was still early in the day, and fog hung over the water, enclosing the beach in soft, sleepy mist.
“I’m zonked,” Bess said, flopping down on the blanket with a yawn.
“Me, too,” admitted the usually energetic George. “This kidnapping business can really wear you out.” She squinted up at Nancy, who still sat staring out to sea. “What do you think is going on at the police station?”
Nancy shrugged. “I’m not sure. I know Terry’s going to show Detective Brower the note. Except for the signature, it was printed in block letters. I don’t know if the police will be able to trace that.”
“So you’re back on the case,” George concluded.
Nancy smiled. “I talked to Amy this morning. It turns out the mysterious Jimmy Thieu is a friend of hers. But he’s also Mr. Mai’s nephew, and he knows what goes on in the gallery. I’d bet anything he knows who stole the trunk and what was in it. He may even know who stole the jade tiger from the gallery.”
George frowned. “Didn’t he sic a Doberman on you?”
“Not exactly,” Nancy said. “He just didn’t stop it the second time.”
“He still doesn’t sound too friendly,” Bess said in a worried voice. “How are you going to get him to talk to you?”
