Don’t Look Twice by Carolyn Keene

there was a kidnapping at Puccini’s, and they grabbed the wrong person by mistake. Was that you?”
    Nancy raised an eyebrow. “That’s right,” she said, wondering why Martha was being so open. She got her answer in the next moment.
    â€œSorry, I can’t take credit for it,” Martha said and bit into a carrot stick. She swallowed, then continued, “I wasn’t even at the game—we wereworking here until after midnight. There’s no way I could have passed Tim that note. I guess one of my friends was playing a joke on me, huh?”
    â€œSome joke,” George began, but Nancy made a sign behind her back for George to hold off.
    â€œTim didn’t see the person who gave him the note?” she asked.
    â€œNo, it was left on the bench during halftime, he said.” Martha shrugged.
    â€œI see—and you were here all night? Were there people here with you?” Nancy tried to make it sound casual, but Martha bristled.
    â€œWhat do you want from me, an alibi?” she asked. “Yes, as it happens, Bernard and Jonathan were both here. Bernard cut out a little after nine—he was moving some of his stuff to Jonathan’s for the week, while his place is being painted—and Jonathan left at ten. I’m sure they’ll vouch for me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
    Martha put down her plate. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she added with a tight smile, “I have to go talk to all the rich people so they’ll give us money to keep the gallery going. See you.”
    â€œStrike another suspect,” Nancy said wearily to George. “Someone set this up pretty cleverly. I’ll ask Tim if he kept the note that he thought was from Martha, but I’ll bet he just tossed it into the wastebasket after he read it.”
    Ned came up with two plastic cups. “Hey, Nan, I’ve been carrying this soda for you all over the gallery,” he said.
    â€œOh, sorry.” Nancy took the cup. “We were eliminating a suspect.” Briefly she recapped her conversation with Martha. “I don’t think she was lying,” Nancy concluded. “It would be easy to check that alibi.”
    â€œBack to square one.” George heaved a sigh.
    â€œWell, we do know a little more,” Nancy pointed out. “Our kidnapper knows Martha well enough to do a reasonable imitation of her handwriting—good enough to fool her brother. We also know this person was at the game. And we can assume it’s someone who talked to Denise during the game, since they knew she’d be at Puccini’s.”
    â€œWhat about Bernard?” Ned suggested. “He works with Martha. He probably could imitate her handwriting, and he knows Denise. I remember her mentioning his name.”
    It sounded as if Ned hung on Denise’s every word, Nancy thought. Aloud, she said, “He was here with Martha and Mr. Mason during the game.”
    â€œYeah, good point. I almost forgot.” Ned snapped his fingers. “I ran into Nella while I was searching for you, and she pointed out Mr. Mason to me. He and Bernard were heading upstairs.”
    â€œReally! Could you hold on to this?” Nancy said, handing her soda back to Ned. “I’m going to see what they’re up to.”
    â€œUpstairs is off limits to guests,” Ned said.
    Nancy shrugged. “If anyone sees me, I can say I lost my way.”
    She walked to the doorway leading to the entrance hall. A guard stood by the door, and another was making his rounds past the base of the staircase. She was a little surprised at the heavy security, especially since Martha claimed Hans Pieters was such a trivial painter.
    As soon as the second guard disappeared round the corner, Nancy ducked out of the doorway and nonchalantly began climbing the stairs. Stopping near the top, she bent down and pretended to fix her stocking. She peeked down the stairs. No one had seen