have eaten at a restaurant. Did you get a—?”
“Excuse me, Ms. Drew,” Weller cut in. “I'm
interviewing your friend. If you break in again, you'll
have to wait out in the hall.”
“I'm sorry.” Folding her arms against her chest,
Nancy crossed to the other side of the room.
“We didn't eat in a restaurant. Daniel brought a
picnic dinner. He just got some stuff at Harborplace.”
George gave Nancy an uneasy look. Nancy smiled
reassuringly at her friend, though inside she was
worried. So far, George had nothing to prove where
the two had been during the time of the robbery.
“Where did you walk? Where did you eat?” Weller
asked.
“Uhh . . . I don't know,” George replied in a small
voice. “We were just kind of exploring the harbor. We
sat by some boats docked on a wharf.”
“Did anyone see you?”
George shrugged. “Lots of people, but they were all
sight-seers, too.”
Weller glanced up from his pad. “So you have no
one to confirm where you were all night?”
“Of course I do. Daniel was with me,” George said.
“Uh-huh, the infamous Calico Jack.” Weller nodded
as he wrote.
Frowning, George stood up. “Nancy, what is going
on? Why am I being interrogated?”
Nancy's gaze darted to Weller. “You need to tell
her.”
“We have reason to believe that you and your friend
Mr. Wagner were involved in a hotel burglary tonight.”
“What!” George blurted. “That's insane.”
“That's what I told him,” Nancy said. “We'll get this
cleared up. Don't worry.”
“Ms. Drew,” Weller said as he put his pad away.
“May I have your permission to look around?”
Nancy knew what he was hunting for. “Yes, we have
nothing to hide. And if George says that's where she
and Daniel were tonight, then that's exactly where they
were.”
Nancy could tell Weller wasn't listening. He was
wandering around, opening drawers and suitcases.
When he went into the bathroom, Nancy quickly told
George about the videotape.
Her friend's eyes grew huge. “They think Daniel and
I robbed the penthouse suite?” she exclaimed in a low
voice. “If the police weren't acting so serious, I'd burst
out laughing.”
When Weller came out, Nancy asked, “Find
anything?”
Without replying, he crouched beside the bed
nearer the bathroom and pulled up the bedspread.
Ducking, he peered underneath.
“Hmm.” He sat back on his heels and drew a latex
glove from his jacket pocket. Nancy caught her breath.
Had he found something?
After slipping on the glove, he reached under the
bed and pulled out several articles of clothing.
Nancy's heart sank when she saw them. They were
the Anne Bonny and Calico Jack costumes. She strode
over to the bed. “I don't understand how those got
there.”
“So you recognize them,” Weller said. Standing up,
he directed a stern gaze at George, who stood frozen at
the end of the bed.
Nancy grabbed his arm. “Wait, you can't possibly
think George had anything to do with the burglary!”
“Oh, but I do. The evidence points right to your
friend, I'm afraid.” Reaching behind him, Weller
pulled his handcuffs from his belt pouch. “George
Fayne, you're under arrest for the hotel burglaries.”
8. A Close Shave
“You can't arrest George. She and Daniel have been set
up!” Nancy protested to Detective Weller. “If the
burglar has a master key card, he or she could have
sneaked into our room and put the costumes under the
bed. Neither of us has been here all night.”
“Put your hands in front of you, Ms. Fayne,” Weller
said, holding up the handcuffs.
“Nancy, tell him there's no way I could have
burglarized those rooms.” George's face had turned
pale.
“I already have,” Nancy said. “He knows he's making
a big mistake.”
“I have no choice,” Weller told them. “The evidence
is stacked against your friend.” Taking hold of George's
arm, he snapped the cuffs around her right wrist, then
her left wrist.
“Officer Reaves,” he barked. “Escort these ladies to
my office and start processing Ms. Fayne. I want
fingerprints, photos, the works. I'm going to pick up
Mr. Wagner.”
“Nancy,” George whispered in a frightened voice as
Officer Reaves came into the hotel room. “This can't
be happening.”
Nancy squeezed her friend's shoulder. “Don't worry.
I'll get you out of this,” she said, trying to sound more
confident than she felt.
The videotape and the stashed costumes were very
incriminating, Nancy realized. She knew she'd have to
do some fast investigating to prove that George was
innocent.
Nancy shifted in the chair at the police station,
trying to get comfortable. It was six o'clock on
Wednesday morning, and she'd been dozing on and off
since George had been brought in. About half an hour
after they'd arrived, Daniel had been escorted into the
station by two police officers. Before he even saw
Nancy, he'd been whisked into a separate office for
interviewing.
Sitting up, Nancy rubbed the crick in her neck. She
hadn't spoken to anyone since George had been
arrested. Obviously, Weller was avoiding her.
Whenever he saw her, he headed in the opposite
direction.
Earlier, Nancy had called her father, Carson Drew,
who said he'd take the first plane to Baltimore if
George needed him. Nancy thanked him, but told him
that first she wanted to find out for sure if George had
been charged with a crime.
“Ms. Drew?” Detective Weller came down the hall,
a coffee mug in his hand. He'd taken off his jacket,
loosened his tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his now-
wrinkled shirt. When he drew closer, Nancy noticed
how bloodshot his eyes were.
She straightened in her seat. “Are you finally going
to tell me what's going on?”
“Your friends are being released. We didn't charge
them with anything.”
“Thank goodness.” Relieved, Nancy sank back in the
chair for a second before asking, “What made you
change your mind?”
“We lifted a fingerprint from the penthouse suite
that matched a print belonging to Chance Curran, a cat
burglar who has committed a string of robberies up
and down the East Coast in the past two years.”
“A cat burglar? And you don't suspect George and
Daniel at all?” Nancy asked.
“Curran has been known to work with a female
accomplice, but since none of the prints we found in
the suite match either one of your friends', we're
; letting them go.”
“So George and Daniel were set up, just as I said,”
Nancy told him.
Weller shrugged. “We don't know for sure. The
thieves could have been wearing gloves, and Curran
left a print by accident.”
“If you have prints on this Curran guy, why hasn't he
been picked up?” Nancy asked.
Weller rubbed the bridge of his nose with two
fingers as if he had a headache. “The prints are from
Curran's first arrest. Since he had no prior record—not
even a parking ticket—he didn't serve any jail time. He
was put on probation for a year, during which time he
stayed clean—at least we think he stayed clean. That's
the last time he was ever caught.”
“How do you know he's behind the other thefts?”
Nancy asked.
“Fingerprints. It seems he always leaves one behind.
Like a calling card to taunt us.”
“Then why haven't you caught him?”
“This is the first time he's hit Baltimore,” Weller
said quickly. “He's a master of disguise—he changes
his looks and identity every place he goes. He's also
smart. He cases out a place carefully—somehow
blending in so no one suspects him. His first heist was
at a ski resort in Vermont. Two months later, he hit a
New York City hotel. Before he came to Baltimore, he
burglarized a casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey. He's
quick to get in and out, another reason the police
haven't caught up with him.”
“Sounds like he's working his way down the East
Coast,” Nancy said, then she tapped her lip with one
finger. “One thing is different about the Baltimore
burglaries. This time he hit the Harborside Hotel
twice.”
“Very observant, Ms. Drew. He's either getting bold
or careless.”
A rush of anger filled Nancy as she realized why
Chance Curran had changed his MO—his method of
operation. “I'd say he's feeling bold because somehow
he was able to pin the blame on George and Daniel,
am I right?”
“That's what we think.” Weller took a sip of his
coffee, then sat down wearily in the chair next to
Nancy's. “Which brings me to you, Ms. Drew. We need
your help.”
Nancy already had an idea what the detective
wanted her to do. “You think that Chance Curran is
connected to the ship and the film.”
“Correct. The doubloons and costumes could only
have been taken by someone with access to all the
areas of the ship.”
“Plus, the person had to know what George and
Daniel were wearing,” Nancy added. “What do you
want me to do?”
“We want you to get some fingerprints for us,”
Weller explained. “If the lab techs even go near the
ship, Curran's going to run. We've asked George and
Daniel to pretend they're still under investigation.
We're hoping Curran's going to be so cocky, he'll stick
around, maybe even make a mistake.”
“He's already made a big mistake.” Nancy stood
abruptly, all her fatigue gone. “He framed two of my
friends. If Curran's on that ship, I'll find him.”
“Take one, scene four,” Nancy announced as she
snapped the slate in front of the camera. It was nine
o'clock the same morning. George had gone back to
the room to shower and sleep. Even though Nancy was
exhausted, she'd forced herself to come onboard for
the morning's shoot.
She was glad she had. Already she'd collected a
coffee cup with Harold's prints and a pen with
Andrew's. She carefully placed the objects in paper
evidence bags and stashed them in a small backpack
she'd borrowed from George. Then she'd stowed the
backpack in the dressing room. Now, if she could only
get Eli's and Karl's . . .
“Action!” Andrew called from his stool. He sat
beside Lian, who was operating the camera.
Blackbeard strode across the deck to the ship's
wheel. He was dressed in black hat, black cape, and
high black boots. A gray cloud billowed from under his
broad-brimmed hat.
Nancy had read all about Blackbeard and his fierce
appearance. Before attacking an enemy ship, he would
light cannon wicks and stick them under his hatband.
Holding pistols in both hands, he would leap onto the
enemy ship, roaring loudly. The effect usually sent the
enemy running.
For safety's sake, Eli had placed dry ice in Karl
Kidd's hatband instead of real wicks. With his bristly
beard, bushy brows, and nasty scowl, Kidd could have
passed for the real Blackbeard.
Nancy tried to picture Karl in Calico Jack's costume.
Karl was larger than Daniel, but the baggy clothes
would still have fit. And since his face had been
shadowed by the hat, Nancy hadn't been able to tell if
the person in the video had a beard.
Her eyes strayed to Janie, who was adjusting an
extra's sailor costume. Nancy hadn't gotten a chance to
ask Janie where she and Karl had been going the night
of the burglary. Were the two rushing from the hotel
after committing the burglary? Nancy thought it was a
distinct possibility.
“Raise the Jolly Roger!” Blackbeard thundered,
drawing Nancy's attention back to the set. “Prepare to
group of sailors as he leaped on top of a cannon,
brandishing his two pistols.
To the left of Blackbeard, Harold Oates raised a
reflective shield, focusing the light on Karl's face.
Nancy knew that even when they filmed during the
day, they needed extra light to make sure the actors'
faces weren't in shadow.
Nancy took the opportunity to study Harold—who
also didn't have an alibi for the night of the burglary,
Nancy thought. Harold was thinner than Daniel, but
the bulky costume would have disguised his shape.
Then there was Eli, who was passing out swords and
muskets for the boarding scene. Five-foot-eight with
skinny arms, Eli was hardly the daring cat burglar type.
Still, Detective Weller had said Curran made it a point
to blend in so no one noticed him. That described both
crew members well.
Nancy's thoughts drifted to Andrew, who was
showing Lian where to move the camera for a second
take. He hadn't been overly concerned when she'd told
him about Daniel being arrested. In fact, all he'd said
was “I hope he's here when Good Morning Baltimore
shows up.”
So much for brotherly love, Nancy thought. Or was
Andrew really Chance Curran, and his plan all along
was for suspicion to be thrown onto his brother? Nancy
already knew he needed money and publicity for the
film. The thefts had accomplished both. The question
was, would Andrew sacrifice his brother for a movie?
Nancy hugged the slate, her thoughts in turmoil. No
&nb
sp; one seemed to fit the role of cat burglar. But then if
Curran was clever enough to frame George and
Daniel, he was clever enough to keep his identity a
secret.
“Nancy!” someone called.
Startled, she jerked her head around. Everybody
was looking at her. “What?”
“Are we interrupting an exciting daydream?”
Andrew teased.
She flushed. “No. I just didn't get any sleep last
night, and I guess I'm spacing out.”
Janie bustled over, a concerned look on her face.
“Andrew, let her go back to the hotel and take a nap.”
“All right,” Andrew agreed. “Go get some shut-eye.
But you and George be back here this afternoon at two
for the Good Morning Baltimore team,” he added,
pointing a pen in her direction.
“Fine.” Nancy handed Janie the slate, then hurried
from the quarterdeck. This would be the perfect
opportunity to get something with Karl's prints on it,
she thought. If only she could find an object he
wouldn't miss.
She glanced at her watch before jumping down the
steps into steerage. Almost ten. If she hurried, she
could get a few hours of sleep.
When she reached the dressing room, Nancy went
straight to the pegs on the wall where Karl had hung
his street clothes that morning. She lifted his shirt off
the peg. His buttons might have a partial print, but he
was bound to notice if his shirt was missing.
Next she checked his jeans, rifling the pockets,
hoping to find spare change, a comb, anything that
might hold a print. They were empty.
Nancy blew out a frustrated breath. Her gaze landed
on his belt. Of course! The metal buckle would be a
perfect place to find a print.
Careful not to touch the buckle, Nancy began to pull
the belt from the loops. The squeak of a floorboard
made her glance over her shoulder.
Karl Kidd filled the dressing room doorway, a
murderous expression on his face. Without a word, he
raised his hand and hurled a dagger straight at Nancy's
head!
9. A Fishy Assailant
Nancy ducked. The dagger whistled over her head,
whacking into the ship wall.
“What was that for!” Nancy yelled at Karl, her arms
rigid by her sides. “You could've killed me!”
Throwing back his head, he burst out laughing.
“You're right, I could have, but I didn't.”