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Copycat






 

Nancy held her breath, wondering what would happen next.

As the artist came toward him, snarling " Why you—I" Peter Worden stood his ground, refusing to flinch or back away. He may or may not have expected Lee Talbot to punch him, but he certainly showed no sign of fear. In fact, he looked so confident and prepared for the attack that perhaps he caused the young artist to think twice about starting a fight.

Whatever the reason, Talbot's hands slowly unclenched and he seemed to bottle up his anger. Turning to the three girls, he apologized curtly. " Sorry. I certainly don't want to embarrass you by causing an ugly scene, but I don't think I can stand the air pollution around here any longe: 'Bye for now, girls! "

Jamming his hands in his jeans as if to keep them from turning violent against his will, the artist stalked off toward the museum lobby, still flushed and fuming.

Nancy and her two friends stared after his retreating figure and then turned, one by one, to look at Peter Worden.

Bess said, " What on earth was that all about? "

The newsman grinned sheepishly. " Guess I owe you girls an apology, too, for interrupting your chat. I shouldn't have said what I did to Talbot."

George, still puzzled, said, " But what made him so angry? "

Worden shrugged. " It's a long story. I'm a-fraid his prize painting reminded me too much of a picture I'd seen here in the museum. And I made the mistake of hinting as much."

Bess looked indignant. " Why, that's practically saying that he copied! " She clearly felt protective toward the handsome young artist.

" Now Bess,..." Nancy said soothingly.

" No, I didn't accuse Talbot of copying, " the reporter responded. " But the fact remains, his picture did remind me of another painting. You see, they both portrayed an odd combination of subjects."

" What did Lee's picture show? " asked George.

" An Egyptian bust, a gray cat, and a moon in the background. And unless I'm very much mistaken, so did another picture that I once saw right here in the River Heights Art Museum."

The three girls were somewhat taken aback by Worden's revelation.

" Golly, " George muttered, " the way you describe it, Lee's painting sounds eerie! Finding two like that would be pretty unusual! "

The newsman nodded. " That's really why I came here today... to make sure I didn't just dream the whole thing up."

Nancy turned to her friends. " Did either of you notice such a picture? "

When both shook their heads, Nancy said to Worden, " Bess and George have just been going through the museum. Maybe you're mistaken."

The reporter's shoulders lifted in a faint shrug. " Could be. But if I'm wrong, why did he get so upset? You know that old saying, 'where there's smoke, there's fire.' Anyhow, I'm going to stroll on through and look over the collection. I always enjoy the time I spend in here."

Nancy smiled. " I know what you mean."

After Peter Worden had taken his leave of the three girls, they walked across the marble lobby and out through the heavy bronze doors into the sunshine.

As they followed a flagstone path to the parking lot, Bess said, " Gee, I could really go for a milkshake right now. How about you two? "

Her companions smiled and George said, " Nancy, I can see this poor girl's about to faint. We'd better get her some nourishment fast! "

Each took hold of one of Bess's arms. Veering off across the museum park, they walked her quickly to a nearby ice-cream parlor, where they sank into the nearest booth, laughing and out of breath.

While they waited for their orders to be served, Nancy told her two friends about the museum break-ins.

" Wow! " exclaimed Bess. " Did they take anything, Nancy? "

" Apparently not. But I have a feeling they may be back. Which reminds me, I have a phone call to make. Hold down the fort a sec."

There was a phone booth in the back of the store. Slipping in a coin, Nancy dialed Emily Owsler's number. Fortunately the retired maid was home, and she remembered how angry Louise Duval had been when the painting donated by her family was taken off the museum wall.

" Could Miss Duval's research project have had anything to do with that painting? " Nancy asked.

Emily Owsler was silent a moment before replying. " Well, not that I know of. I remember she called in some famous art expert from New York about the painting. She wanted to get back at the museum curator and prove the painting was more valuable than he realized. But this foreign research thing was different. She was very secretive about that."

With a sigh, the maid ended, " It's too bad, dear, that I can't remember more about it. I wish I could help you."

" You already have, Miss Owsler, " Nancy said gratefully. On a sudden inspiration, she added, " And maybe you can help me a bit more. Could you tell me what other interests Miss Duval had? "

" Of course. She was just crazy about playing bridge. She belonged to a club that was made up of the best women bridge-players in and around River Heights."

" Oh, great. I don't suppose you'd know if any of them are still alive? "

" As a matter of fact I do, Nancy. You see, they used to take turns playing in each other's homes, so I got to see them all quite frequently, and I remember one who was quite a bit younger than the others. Mrs. Leon Ferbury, her name was."

" And you think she may still be alive? " Nancy asked eagerly.

" Oh, I know she is, " Emily Owsler declared. " I saw her picture in the paper just recently. She was giving a charity ball."

Nancy thanked the former maid and hung up with a feeling of fresh hope. Then she went back to the booth to enjoy her chocolate milkshake with Bess and George.

After driving her friends home, Nancy turned westward across town in the direction of Pierre Michaud's workshop. She felt it was time to report her progress on the case so far. She thought Pierre would be especially interested in hearing about Lisa Thorpe, and to learn that the attractive girl was still willing to help him.

Nancy parked on the cement apron outside the two-story brick building and went in. Nyra Betz, wearing a green pantsuit, looked up from her desk with a scornful sniff.

" Oh, back so soon? "

Ignoring the girl's catty tone, Nancy merely smiled and nodded. But suddenly Nyra seemed to lose her unfriendly attitude. Her glowering face took on a sly, amused look as if she were enjoying some secret joke.

Nancy was puzzled by her change in expression. Before she could take time to fathom what might be going on in Nyra's head, however, Pierre came striding out of the back room. He had on a shop apron to protect his shirt and slacks, and was carrying a toolbox in one hand.

" Ah, bonjour, Nancy! " he exclaimed eagerly on seeing the titian-haired young sleuth. " What good news do you bring us? "

" Nothing very dramatic, " she chuckled. " Just thought I'd bring you up to date on what's happened so far."

" Excellent! It is almost noon, so why not tell me over lunch? "

Nancy hesitated, slightly embarrassed that she had dropped in without thinking of the time. " Actually, I just had a milkshake..."

" No matter, " Pierre cut in with a smile before she could refuse. " If the food does not tempt you, simply talk and I shall listen. Just give me a few moments to finish what I was doing."

The Frenchman explained that he was assembling a desktop computer model containing his new memory device. Nancy watched him install its cover, then insert and tighten the screws to hold it in place. She could not help admiring his deft, precise workmanship with tools.

" Tout fini! ” he announced presently, then excused himself to go and wash up. When he returned, he had shed his apron and put on a tie and sports jacket. " Shall we go? "

Nancy felt Nyra's eyes burning a hole in her back as they went out of the workshop.

Pierre gallantly held the driver's-side door open while Nancy slid in behind the wheel, then went around the car to get in himself.

Nancy had just started the engine and was shifting into drive when Pierre exclaimed angrily, " Stop! Let me get out! "

 


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