The Magician's Secret (Nancy Drew Diaries #8)(22)

“Wait. We need a forensic specialist to take a look at that.”

The judge told Officer Fernandez, “Officer, please bring Mr. Smallwood to the courthouse. We need to clear this up. The box was originally in John Smallwood’s room, then it disappeared, only to reappear in Drake Lonestar’s room. The resolution to this crime is somewhere between these two men.”

“On my way.” Officer Fernandez rushed from the room.

“Everyone else, stay put,” the judge commanded.

Bess pulled me away from the others. “Those stones are probably worth just enough to cover Gritty Grand’s debts. This doesn’t look good for Lonestar.”

George joined us. “But what about the other gems? There is another two and a half million dollars’ worth of emeralds and rubies still missing.”

Bess glanced over her shoulder at Drake, who was conferring with Madeline Summers. “I don’t think there’s any way to avoid him going to jail. Even if they never find the other stones, so much of what we’ve discovered points to Drake as the thief.”

“I think that’s the point,” I said. “It seems like a setup to me. With Drake Lonestar in jail, no one will question where the other gems are. They’ll assume Drake took them, hid them, destroyed them, whatever.” I sighed. “Someone is planning to get away with the other stones . . . and knows it’s likely that part of the mystery will remain unsolved.”

“Unless you solve it,” George said, putting her hand on my shoulder.

My head was spinning. No matter how many times I reviewed the evidence, it all came back to Drake. What was I missing?

There was one thing gnawing at me. . . . I hadn’t had time to look up Harry Houdini’s famous jail escape trick that George had mentioned at her house the previous day, and I wanted to know more. I asked George to tell me about it.

“It was 1904,” she said. “Houdini was already known for his handcuff escapes but had added jail escapes to his show when he was on tour. Once, at Scotland Yard, the chief constable asked him to do a trick on the spot, without any preparation. They locked him in a cell and triple-locked the door. Then they locked the iron gate leading to the cell block. Five minutes later, he arrived in a public hallway!”

“Amazing,” Bess said.

“Yes,” I agreed. “Are there theories of how he did it?”

“No one knows for sure,” George told me. “But some say he might have visited the cell block earlier. Apparently, he had a kind of a wax that he could put in the locks, make a mold, then create a key to use later. The rumor is that he had a false sole on his shoe and hid the keys there.”

“But no one knows for sure?” I asked.

“There are guesses as to how he got the keys he needed, but they always come back to the fact that he had them,” George said.

“Thanks.” I was considering George’s story when I heard a rattling sound and looked up to see Drake Lonestar staring directly at me, dangling a pair of handcuffs.

Madeleine Summers had a look of horror on her face. “What are you doing?” she hissed at him.

“Mr. Lonestar,” Judge Nguyen said sharply. “May I ask why you have a pair of handcuffs in your possession?”

“A magician never leaves home without them,” he replied with a chuckle. He again fixed me with his intense stare.

And just like that, I was certain that Drake Lonestar was not the jewel thief.

“We gotta go,” I told Bess and George. “Hurry!”

I gave the judge some lame excuse about parking in a tow-away zone and headed for the door.

Suddenly the judge’s chamber door burst open.

“I came as soon as I heard!” A woman quickly crossed the room and gave Drake Lonestar a huge hug. “Oh, darling! How can I help you?”

Bess put a hand to her mouth and choked out, “That’s Gritty Grand!”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN





Lies Liars Tell


“WILL A LIAR LIE ABOUT his own lie?” Bess asked as we piled into my car.

“And if this liar is lying, which lie is he lying about?” George asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The liar who lied is not the lying liar,” I said, feeling satisfied that I’d finally solved the case.

It took a few phone calls to figure out where I needed to go. The twins were alone at the Riverview, and I knew who was at the courthouse. That left one person . . . and one place for that person to be, but time was running out.

After a short drive, we pulled up to the Towering Heights Resort. I let the valet take my car. The guy’s eyes brightened when he saw Bess.

“Oh, good grief,” George complained. “I think the magician here is Bess. She’s got all of River Heights under some spell.”

“It’s not a spell,” Bess countered. “It’s my natural charm.”

“What can I do for you ladies?” the valet asked as he helped Bess out of the backseat. His long hair was combed back, showing his deep-blue eyes. I had to admit, he was pretty cute.

“Can you watch the car? We have to run.” I grabbed Bess’s arm. We’d be standing there all day if I didn’t take charge.

“See you later,” the valet said.

“Okay,” Bess replied, looking back at him over her shoulder.