Amy stood in the center of her room, tears streaming down her face. “They wrecked everything,” she sobbed.
All the drawers had been pulled out of Amy’s dresser. Clothing and toys were strewn about the room. An Oriental screen had been snapped in two, and the contents of Amy’s desk drawers were dumped onto the floor.
“I know, honey. It’s all right,” Terry said, holding his daughter against his side. “We’ll make sure they don’t come back.”
Amy wiped her eyes. “It’s not all right,” she said. “The thief took the trunk.”
“Are you sure?” Terry asked in genuine surprise. “Why on earth would anyone steal that thing?”
Amy pointed to a space behind the broken screen. It was clear from the depression on the rug that there had once been a small trunk standing there.
“What was in the trunk?” Nancy asked Amy.
“It’s where I kept my sweaters,” the girl replied.
“Did you store anything else in there?” George asked. “Maybe you put something in there and forgot.”
Amy shook her head. “Just sweaters.”
Nancy’s eyes scanned the room, finding no immediate clues. “What sort of trunk was it?” she wondered. “Maybe it’s the trunk itself that’s valuable.”
“It isn’t,” Terry assured her. “It’s just a cheap wooden trunk, but it does have a story behind it. Let me call the police, and then I’ll fill you in.”
A detective and a police lab technician arrived about an hour after the phone company’s repair woman. Detective Brower, a large middle-aged man with thinning brown hair and a very red face, was in charge. He had the technician dust for prints, take fiber samples and photographs of the house, and make lists of everything that was stolen or vandalized. Terry had found that in addition to the trunk, a camera and a box filled with old silver dollars had been taken from his room.
“Was this camera valuable?” Detective Brower questioned.
“It was a good camera, but it really wasn’t worth much,” Terry replied.
“Did you have any film in it?” Nancy asked. “Maybe you took a photograph of something that someone didn’t want you to see.”
“Excuse me, miss,” said Detective Brower in a sarcastic tone, “but who’s conducting this investigation—you or me?”
“Detective Brower, allow me to introduce Nancy Drew,” Terry said. “Nancy happens to be—”
“A friend of the family,” Nancy broke in. She had a feeling that Terry was going to introduce her as a private detective. And she was almost certain that Detective Brower wasn’t going to appreciate that.
“Fine,” Brower said. “I’m glad you’re friends, but I’ll ask the questions here.” He gave Terry a curious look. “Was there any film in the camera?”
“No,” Terry said, not bothering to hide a smile. “And as for the coins, I took them to a collector a while back to have them appraised. She told me they were worth a few hundred dollars at most.”
Brower shut his notebook with a snap and thanked Terry for his time.
“That’s it?” Terry demanded. “This house has been broken into three times recently, and that’s all you can say?”
The detective reached for his hat. “What do you want me to say, Mr. Kirkland?”
“You could tell me you’re going to have the house watched,” Terry said.
“We don’t have enough people for that,” Detective Brower said. He and the technician headed for the door. “We’ll let you know what we find.”
“I’m sure,” Terry said, closing the door behind them.
Bess, who’d been watching the proceedings from a window seat, stood up indignantly and said, “I’ve certainly met more helpful police officers.”
“I’ve met more helpful mosquitoes,” Terry muttered.
“They were even worse the first two times,” Amy said. “And they haven’t told us anything. I bet Nancy and I will solve the case before they do.”
Nancy was silent. She’d worked with police officers all over the country. Usually, they welcomed her help, but every so often she ran into someone like Detective Brower. She was going to have to be very careful around him.
“Why wasn’t he more interested in the case?” she asked.
Terry shrugged. “The police department in this area is spread pretty thin. They have a lot of land to cover. Maybe Detective Brower has more important crimes to deal with. Maybe he’s just been doing his job too long, and he’s burned out.”
“Or maybe he’s just not very good at what he does,” George suggested.
“It doesn’t matter,” Nancy said. “We’ll just have to work around him. And speaking of work, we ought to start cleaning this place up.”
• • •
Later that evening, after they’d eaten and Amy had gone to sleep, Terry and the three friends relaxed in the living room. Though the day had been hot, the night air was cool. Terry knelt beside the hearth and laid kindling for a fire.
Nancy watched him, her mind on the mystery. What was it the thief wanted? she wondered. The camera, the coins, or a trunk filled with a nine-year-old’s sweaters? Or was it something else altogether?
“Terry,” Nancy said, “in the first two break-ins the thief only took electronic equipment?”
“That’s right.”
