Free Don’t Look Twice by Carolyn Keene Page A

Martha to get suspicious.
    â€œHow do I look?” asked George. Nancy turned around.
    â€œGeorge, you look amazing.” It was true. The short bolero jacket and tailored pants showed off George’s long, slim figure. She was wearing just a touch of makeup. But the clothes and the makeup really didn’t matter as much as the radiant glow of excitement in George’s eyes. George would have been great in jeans and a T-shirt right then.
    Nancy snapped her makeup case shut and looked at herself in the mirror. A less-than-happy detective stared back. She needed answers—fast.
    The two girls drove over to Harrigan House, where Ned and Dave were waiting to be picked up. On the ride to the gallery Nancy coached them about what to look for at the party.
    â€œBecause we believe there’s a connection between Martha Raphael and Denise’s kidnapping, we should all be aware of who Martha talks to at the party,” she advised the others. “Also, keep an eye on Mr. Mason,” she added. “The kidnappers might send him another message or phone call.”
    A few minutes later they pulled into the circular drive in front of the gallery. Car after car was lined up. Stylishly dressed men and women poured in through the front doors as a team of valets parked cars. Nancy turned her keys over to one of the valets, and then the four friends went into the mansion.
    The entry hall was packed with people chattering and checking their coats.
    â€œCan I help you?” asked a woman with thick,black-rimmed glasses and bright red lipstick. She was sitting at a small wooden table with a computer printout of names in front of her. She stared up expectantly at Nancy.
    â€œNancy Drew, plus three,” Nancy said.
    The woman ticked Nancy’s name off the list and smiled. “Feel free to check your coats. There’s a buffet table set up in the dining room. Enjoy the show.”
    Ned took their coats, and Nancy, George, and Dave climbed the staircase to the second floor.
    The place was blazing with light. A woodwind quartet sat off in one corner of the ballroom, filling it with reedy sound. People were standing in small clusters around the rooms, admiring the paintings or chatting with one another. From the snatches of conversation that Nancy caught, most of the guests seemed more interested in gossip than in the art on the walls.
    There was a wide range of ages and types of dress at the party. Some women wore sequined evening gowns, while others wore more casual dresses or pants. Nancy spotted several gray-haired men in tuxedos, but most of the younger men were dressed less formally. George pointed out one guy in a white dinner jacket and bow tie—and a pair of red high-top sneakers.
    George and Dave went to hit the buffet. Left by herself, Nancy scanned the room quickly. Neither Martha nor Mr. Mason was in sight. Nancy’seye was caught by one of the paintings, though, a portrait of a boy sitting in a velvet chair.
    If she wasn’t mistaken, that was the painting Martha had tried to hide that morning. Why? Nancy wondered again. What was so special about it?
    She moved closer to the painting, leaning forward to peer at it. Just then someone bumped against her and she lost her balance. She reached out to steady herself against the gilt frame.
    Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” a voice warned.
    Nancy turned and found herself face-to-face with the assistant curator, Bernard Corbett. He was wearing a well-cut charcoal suit with a neon orange tie.
    â€œHello, Miss Drew. I didn’t mean to startle you, but you almost set off our brand-new alarm,” he said with a smile.
    Nancy’s eyes widened. “You mean it goes off that easily?” she asked.
    â€œAll you have to do is jiggle the frame the tiniest bit,” Bernard confirmed. “And only Jonathan can turn it off. Quite secure, wouldn’t you