“Good morning,” Nancy said. “Thanks for the ticket.”
“Oh, no problem,” Hillary replied, lifting a poodle into her arms. “Your father has been such a help to me. And I know you’ll really love the dog show.” She put down the poodle, and it scampered off with its mate.
“Actually, I’d like to buy two extra tickets for my friends,” Nancy explained. “I’ll pay for them, of course,” she added quickly.
“Come along into the study,” Hillary said, “and I’ll get them for you.”
Nancy followed Hillary through the impressive entrance hall. The walls were lined with large oil paintings of men and women from another era, who seemed to stare down at Nancy from ornate gilded frames as she passed. Probably Hillary’s ancestors, Nancy thought.
To her left, Nancy saw a dining room furnished with a long mahogany table and a hutch that housed gold-rimmed plates. The table’s surface reflected, mirrorlike, the crystal chandelier overhead.
“You have a beautiful home,” Nancy said as they passed the living room, filled with Oriental rugs, thick drapes, velvet sofas, and a grand piano.
“Thank you,” the heiress said with a sigh. “But to tell you the truth, the only house I ever really loved was the Lane mansion. All the Lanes were born there. It really should have been kept in the family.” Her expression darkened. “I get so angry every time I think of Nelson Stone and all those ugly renovations he’s planning to make to my family home. And he has absolutely no regard for my opinion,” Hillary went on. “You heard the way he spoke to me when I was in his office. What were you doing there, by the way?”
“Oh, Mr. Stone invited me to see the Tibetan exhibit,” she fibbed. “He’s a family friend.”
Hillary twisted her gold link necklace with an index finger. “They’ll never find the Golden Horse,” she said. “Can you imagine? How irresponsible of Nelson Stone, leaving the case unlocked.”
They entered a dark, oak-paneled study lined with books on Oriental art. The heiress offered Nancy a seat.
Suddenly Nancy noticed a box of Gold Flag chocolates lying on the side table. Her mind flashed back to the box of Gold Flag chocolates Nelson Stone had received. Could there be a connection? It was hard to imagine Hillary sending Stone a present.
Nancy glanced up at the leather-bound books. “You must know a lot about Oriental art,” Nancy said, hoping to draw Hillary out.
“I have a passion for Oriental art,” Hillary said. “It’s my greatest love.”
“I’m becoming very interested in the subject myself,” Nancy told her.
Hillary Lane pulled a large volume off the shelf and handed it to Nancy. “This book is on antique Japanese dolls. I edited the manuscript,” she added.
Nancy opened the book. “What magnificent dolls,” she remarked, looking at the full-page photographs.
The heiress leaned over Nancy’s shoulder. “Some of those dolls are part of my private collection.”
“Oh, I’d love to see them,” Nancy said. “Is there any chance I could?”
Hillary hesitated. “Well, actually—I’m in the process of reorganizing . . .” she hedged.
“Could I see just a few of the dolls?” Nancy asked sweetly.
Hillary hesitated once again, twisting her gold-crest pinkie ring. “Well, perhaps just the dolls,” she agreed finally.
Nancy followed Hillary down a carpeted hallway, its walls covered with beige silk. They soon reached a large, heavy, oak-carved door with a polished brass doorknob and several locks.
“I don’t take many people here,” Hillary said. “It’s sort of my secret place, where I like to meditate. It’s very serene and . . . well, you’ll see in a minute.” Pushing open the door, she flicked on the floodlights.
“Wow!” Nancy said as she entered. The room was enormous, containing many glass cases filled with Oriental treasures. The far wall was lined with tapestries. To her left, Nancy saw several colorful paintings, similar to the Indian miniatures she’d noticed on the second floor of the Clinton Park Museum.
Hillary waved a hand toward a group of glass cases on the right wall. “Those are my precious Japanese dolls.”
Nancy looked over the white-faced, traditionally dressed figures, seated serenely inside the cases. “They’re really lovely,” she remarked.
“I’m afraid I haven’t shown my treasures to anyone for a while,” Hillary confessed. The heiress closed her eyes for a brief moment, and Nancy sensed she was off in her own private world. Turning toward the tapestries, Nancy noticed a glass case containing small Buddhist statues.
“Oh, those are just my Chinese tapestries,” Hillary said with a shrug.
“Actually, the Buddhas caught my eye,” Nancy told her. “Do you mind if I take a look at them?”
Before Hillary had time to reply, Nancy stepped toward the statues. But as she reached the case, she froze. On a shelf, right behind the Buddhas, stood the dazzling Golden Horse!
5
Conflicting Clues
“It’s the Golden Horse!” Nancy cried in disbelief.
Hillary Lane’s eyes sparkled. “Yes,” she said with a sigh. “Isn’t it lovely?”
Nancy stared at the heiress, wondering if the woman was insane. How else, Nancy reasoned, could the heiress steal a priceless treasure, then behave as if nothing were wrong?
Nancy dug her nails into the palms of her hands. How do I handle this one? she thought as Hillary came over and stood beside her. “Such a pity!” Hillary said. “I would have loved to have had the pair.”
Nancy frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“There are two Golden Horses, you know,” Hillary went on breezily. “They were originally a set.”
Nancy breathed a silent sigh of relief.
