Portrait in Crime (2 page)

“Who arranged for the funeral?” Sasha asked.

“That was also strange,” Tommy said. “I think Bob Tercero did. He's the manager at my mom's gallery.”

“Well, I could stop by the gallery later today to talk to your mom, if you'd like,” Nancy offered.

“We
could,” Sasha interrupted. “I'm free all day.”

Tommy grinned. “I'd really appreciate it.”

The three young people settled on a time, and Tommy took over the wheel. “Bess looks okay. Why don't you go sit down,” he offered.

Nancy and Sasha went to the bow, where Sasha had spread a towel over the deck. Nancy sat on the towel, and Sasha perched, half seated, on the railing.

“You
are
going to let me help with this case?” Sasha asked as he held his lean, high-cheekboned face up toward the sun. He added, “You know we make a good team—in more than one way.”

What was she going to do about him? Nancy wondered, as she let her eyes run over his thick, light brown hair. He had made it clear that he was interested in her, and he wasn't going to give up easily. She
did
like being with him, she had to admit, but she was in love with Ned!

“Yes,” she said at last. “You'll poke around, anyway, so I might as well include you.”

Sasha's eyes popped open, and he gave Nancy a wide grin. “It doesn't sound very exciting,” he commented, “but it ought to be easy and safe, not like the last mystery we solved!”

Suddenly there was an earsplitting scream. Startled, Tommy whipped around, his hands still on the steering wheel. The boat swerved, and Nancy was thrown back against the side of the boat.

Sasha was caught off balance. He tried to hold onto the railing, but his hands slipped. Before Nancy could react, Sasha was thrown out of the boat and was somersaulting backward into the water!

T
OMMY
!” Nancy cried out.

Tommy turned to see what had happened and threw the throttle into neutral. “Bess? Sasha? Is everyone okay?”

Nancy leaned over the side of the boat. “Sasha,” she called, “are you okay?”

Sasha was treading water. “Just shaken, I think. What happened? Who screamed?”

“I think it was Bess,” Nancy said, shading her eyes as she searched for her friend. Bess, in the distance, waved an arm, signaling that she wasn't hurt.

“There she is.” Nancy pointed. “We'd better go get her.”

Nancy turned back to Sasha, who was swimming
gingerly toward the boat. “What's wrong with your arm?” she asked worriedly, noticing that he was favoring his left arm. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Sasha insisted breathlessly. “Throw me a life preserver and go see if Bess is okay.”

“She's managing,” Nancy said. “Let's get you up first.”

Tommy swung the boat around.

“Come up over the side, and stay away from the engines,” Nancy directed as Sasha approached the boat.

Together, Nancy and Tommy hauled Sasha back in over the side gunwale. Nancy took a look at his shoulder as Tommy gunned the engine and took off for Bess.

Bess was treading water exactly where she had fallen. She hadn't even tried to swim for the boat.

“Are you okay?” Nancy called as they drew up beside her. Bess nodded.

Tommy helped Bess aboard, and Nancy dove into the water to retrieve the skis. When she got back Bess was wrapped in a towel, leaning heavily against Tommy's shoulder.

“I'm sorry!” Bess burst out as Nancy hoisted herself back on board. “I didn't mean to fall and cause such a commotion. Sasha, are you sure you're okay?”

Sasha assured her for the third time that he was. “I shouldn't have been sitting on the railing anyway,” he said.

“What happened to you?” Nancy asked Bess.

“She fell,” Tommy said simply. “Happens to the best of us.” Turning back to Bess, he brushed damp tendrils of hair off her forehead. “You are okay, aren't you?” he asked tenderly.

Nancy smiled openly as she watched them. The romance was certainly blooming! “Okay if I take the wheel?” she asked.

Tommy nodded, barely glancing at her.

Nancy looked at Sasha. “Uh,” she began, “Sasha, do you want to ski?”

“Go ahead, Sasha,” Bess said immediately. “Don't let me spoil the day.”

Sasha shook his head, salt water flying from his golden brown hair. “That's okay, I've been in the water enough for today.” He touched his left shoulder unconsciously.

“You're sure your shoulder is okay?” Nancy asked him worriedly. “Dmitri will kill me if you're hurt.”

Sasha grinned at the thought of his overprotective chaperon, Dmitri Kolchak. “He won't kill you, but he will fuss over me more than Tommy is fussing over Bess.”

“Let's spend the rest of the day on land,” he said, and Nancy headed toward the dock.

• • •

“I did
not
fall on purpose!” Bess declared hotly as the two girls and Sasha sat on the porch of the Nisus Art Gallery after a very late lunch.

Nancy laughed and hugged her friend. “Bess,
I'm teasing! All I meant was it couldn't have worked better if you had planned it.”

A small smile played over Bess's lips. “Well, Tommy
was
awfully concerned—” She stopped suddenly, narrowing her eyes. “Don't you dare tell George I fell! She'll never let me forget it.”

Tommy poked his head out the door. “Are you guys coming in?” he called.

The three friends walked into the gallery, cool air embracing them. The main room was a large, off-white space, sparsely furnished. There was a young woman sitting at a desk near the door, reading a book. Nancy looked around.

An enormous painting hung on the wall facing them, dominating the room. It was done entirely in shades of pink, and it was very pretty, but Nancy didn't think it was special. “I'd never make an art critic,” she murmured to Sasha.

A smattering of smaller paintings graced the other walls. Two sculptures were displayed on freestanding columns placed in the middle of the room.

Tommy motioned them over to where he was standing with a tall, elegant woman.

“Nancy Drew, Sasha Petrov, this is my mother, Cynthia Gray,” Tommy said. “And you've met Bess.”

Nancy shook hands with the handsome older woman, who was dressed in layers of flowing peach silk. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you,” Cynthia responded warmly. “I'm
glad you could come,” she said, refocusing her attention to include Sasha.

“We want to help in any way we can,” Sasha offered.

“Well, then, why don't we go into my office?” Cynthia invited, leading them across the room. “I'm afraid I won't be much help, but I'll tell you everything I know.”

“Um, Nancy,” Bess called. “Do you need me? Tommy wants to show me some of Christopher Scott's work.”

“Good idea,” Nancy said, as she and Sasha followed Cynthia down a hall and into a quiet and perfectly decorated office. Cynthia had hung a few paintings on the taupe fabric-covered walls. A small bronze statue was spotlighted next to the door. “Your gallery is beautiful,” Nancy said sincerely.

“Thank you.” Cynthia shrugged. “It's really just a hobby for me, but I have fun with it. Now, what can I tell you? Tommy says you're willing to help me.”

“Well,” Nancy began, “Tommy said you were worried about Christopher Scott, and we'd like to know why specifically.”

Cynthia nodded. “I am. He's absolutely disappeared. I have a major show of his work coming up in a few days and I
have
to have him here!”

“You've tried contacting any family members?” Sasha asked.

“Bob has. Bob Tercero is my manager. He works out all the details around here.”

“He's the one who arranged Nicholas's funeral?” Nancy asked.

Cynthia nodded. “Chris didn't even show up for that.” She stopped suddenly. “Maybe you could go to Chris's studio to check it out for clues. Bob went by there, but maybe a detective could find something that he missed.”

“I'll go,” Nancy agreed, “but first I should probably get some more information about Christopher. Did he say anything about going on a trip?”

“Oh, goodness, I have no idea!” Cynthia said, surprised. “You know, I can't remember the last time I spoke to him.

“I'm sorry, you must think I'm crazy,” Cynthia continued sheepishly. “Bob really runs the show around here. I just stop in and put the finishing touches on things. Most of my dealings with Chris were worked out between Nicholas and Bob.” She wrinkled her nose. “Nicholas Scott was not the most pleasant person to deal with. Bob was a friend of his. It was a lot easier to let the two of them take care of business.”

“Is Bob around?” Sasha asked.

Cynthia picked up the phone. “Bob? Could you come to my office, please?”

While they waited, Cynthia said, “We'll help you any way we can. It's just me, Bob, and our receptionist, Cecilia. I'll tell her to cooperate with you, too. She's a college student and just works summers. I'll introduce you on the way out.”

A few minutes later a broad, dark-skinned man
with black eyes and hair breezed into the room. Cynthia introduced him to Nancy and Sasha and excused herself.

“I'm glad you're here to help,” Bob Tercero said, settling himself behind Cynthia's desk. “I'm worried sick about Christopher.”

“I know this may seem silly,” Nancy began carefully, “but I'm afraid I'm a little confused. You're worried sick, and Cynthia is, too, but still no one seems to think this is serious enough to take to the police.”

“Well, Christopher is famous for dropping out of sight. Most of the townies just assume he's out of the country.”

“And?”

“And . . . I don't know,” Bob said, exhaling slowly. “It seems like the only reasonable explanation, but I talked to Nicholas the day he died, and he told me Chris was working furiously.”

“Cynthia tells me you and Nicholas were friends,” Nancy said.

Bob nodded. “Good friends. We did quite a lot together.”

Nancy glanced over at Sasha. Bob didn't seem to be in mourning for his “good friend.”

“Well, then, perhaps you can tell us how to get to the Scotts' house?”

“I can do better than that,” Bob said eagerly. “I'll take you there.”

Nancy shook her head. “No, thanks. It's nice of you to offer, but the fewer people, the easier any investigation is.”

Bob's smile faded.

“Please don't take it as an insult,” Nancy said. “It's just the way I work.”

“I thought I could help you,” Bob said stiffly. “It's not as though Nicholas had many friends. In fact, toward the end, I may have been his only one. He wasn't a very nice person, you know.”

“But he was a good friend of yours?” Sasha asked doubtfully.

“Well, we had a working relationship. Christopher is the gallery's most important client, so I devoted a lot of my time to working with the Scotts.”

“You said he wasn't a nice person,” Nancy prompted. “What exactly did you mean?”

“I mean he was nasty. He was arrogant. He had a violent temper, and he treated people terribly.”

Bob placed his arms on the desk and leaned across them. “In fact, Nicholas had so many enemies, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if someone had decided to get rid of him for good!”

A
RE YOU SAYING
someone murdered Nicholas Scott?” Nancy asked.

“Uh, no, not really,” Bob said, suddenly defensive. “I only meant that there are people around who hated him enough to kill him.”

Nancy studied Bob more carefully. He was acting very oddly. First he said Nicholas was a friend, then he changed his mind and told them Nicholas was a business associate and that he was nasty and selfish.
Then
he came out with the statement that Nicholas could have been murdered and then quickly reversed himself, saying it was an accident. It seemed as if Bob was trying to slander his friend without actually doing it. Nancy wasn't sure why, especially since Nicholas's
character wasn't the issue. It couldn't have anything to do with Christopher's disappearance.