Jon Breen - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Vol. 57, No. 3. Whole No. 328, March 1971

The ominous feeling came again, and this time he knew that someone else was in the room. He raised his left arm slightly, until the flashlight beam targeted a black-clad figure crouched like a cat some ten feet in front of him. Despite the black knit cap that covered her sandy hair, he had no trouble recognizing Lynn Peters.

“What in hell are you doing here?” he whispered harshly.

“The same thing as you,” she said with a grin, sliding closer across the polished floor. “You hid somewhere after the place closed, so I did the same thing.”

“But — you mean you’ve been following me?”

“Of course. You’re the famous thief Nick Velvet, aren’t you?”

“Where did you hide?” he asked, ignoring her question.

“In the Ladies’ Room. The male guards never think to check it. I had this black outfit on under my raincoat, just in case. You’re after the jewelry, aren’t you?”

He shifted the light from her face and brought out his wire cutters. “No, I think that’s your game. If you really knew anything about me, you’d know I don’t steal anything valuable.”

“But you’re working for Kincaid,” she insisted.

“I have what I want right here.” He snipped away at the wires, carefully disengaging about fifteen inches of the tail section. The bones felt zero-cold in his hands.

Then suddenly they heard voices nearby, and the barking of a dog. “Come on,” Nick snapped. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“What are you doing with those bones?”

“Stealing them.” He grabbed her arm.

“But the jewelry—”

“No time for your jewels now. If those guard dogs catch our scent we’re in trouble — big trouble.”

He led her back through the Etruscan Wing, grasping her wrist with one hand and the dinosaur’s tail with the other. The voices seemed farther off, and for a moment he relaxed, certain they were going to make it.

“Duck under here,” he warned. “It’s an electric eye.”

She ducked, but not low enough. Instantly a clanging alarm bell shattered the silence. “Damn!”

“I’m sorry.”

He tugged her and broke into a run. “A fine burglar you’d make!”

“I never pretended to be one.”

“Then what in hell are you doing here?”

There were shouts and running footsteps now, and up ahead the lights were going on. “Nick, I’m scared!” she cried as the barking of the dogs sounded closer.

“You should be. Right now I’m scared myself.”

They had reached the main hall of the museum, and the front exit was only a hundred feet away. But already they could see the guards converging. Someone spotted them, shouted to the others, and more lights came on.

“Run!” Nick told her.

Their running footsteps echoed on the polished marble as they retreated toward the Egyptian Room. He remembered the mummy cases, but knew the dogs would sniff them out in a minute.

“There’s no way out, Nick.”

Ahead, appearing suddenly like some hound of hell, a large German shepherd blocked their path. Nick reversed direction, dragging Lynn with him.

“I–I can’t—”

The dog started after them, so close they could hear its panting as it ran. “I know just how Sir Henry Baskerville must have felt,” Nick gasped.

“We can’t make it,” Lynn moaned.

Nick slid to a sudden stop and pulled a handful of capsules from his pocket. The dog was only twenty feet away, coming fast, as Nick hurled the capsules to the floor, breaking them.

“What’s that?” Lynn asked.

The dog slowed its charge, turning its nose to the floor. “Come on! That’ll only divert him for a minute or two.”

“But what—?”

“It’s a chemical that looks like blood and has a strong meat scent. Fishermen use it to attract good catches. I thought it might distract the dogs for a minute if I got into a jam.”

The German shepherd had paused, sniffing, but already it was losing interest in this new odor. It turned again toward them. “Now what, Nick? I can’t run any more.”

“There they are!” a guard shouted from the corridor ahead of them.

Nick sighed and braced himself. “Through the window. It’s our only chance.”

“The window!”

“We’re on the first floor. It’s no worse than falling off a horse.”

Ten minutes later, bruised, cut, and out of breath, they sat in the front seat of Nick’s car as he pursued a winding route through upper Manhattan.

“Do you always cut things that close?” she asked him.

He tried a relaxed smile, and it didn’t feel bad at all. There was a glass cut along one cheek, but it wasn’t deep. “Not usually. I hadn’t counted on your being there. What about your car?”

“I parked it a few blocks away, just in case. But they’ll find my raincoat in the Ladies’ Room.”

“Any identification in it?”

“No.” She grinned at a sudden thought. “My, won’t they be surprised when they discover the only thing missing is the dinosaur’s tail!”

“Sorry you didn’t have time for the jewels.”

“Look, Nick — Mr. Velvet — I was only there because you were, the same as yesterday. I thought Kincaid hired you to steal that jewelry.”

He took one hand from the steering wheel to rub a bruise on his arm. “But why would you care anyway, unless you were after the jewelry yourself?”

“Those things aren’t worth much in the open market, but the diamonds that were already stolen are worth a fortune. There’s a $5,000 reward for the Pliny diamond alone, and I mean to collect it.”

“You mean you’re—?”

She nodded. “Not a lapidarist at all, but an insurance investigator. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“But what about the horses and the jumping?”

“I joined the group recently, to get close to Kincaid. I’m not much of a horsewoman — that’s why I fell on Sunday. You see, Kincaid was doing some work at the museum the same day the Pliny diamond was stolen. The insurance companies are suspicious of him.”

“He makes bones,” Nick explained. “For dinosaurs. That’s what he was doing at the museum.”

“Maybe that’s just a cover.”

Nick ran his fingers over the length of tail bone at his side. “We’ll find out soon enough. We’re going to Kincaid’s place.”

The lights were still burning when they reached the house on the hill, and Kincaid greeted them at the door. He couldn’t quite mask his surprise, though, at seeing Lynn. “Well, hello. I thought you two barely knew each other.”

“We’ve gotten friendly,” Lynn explained. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

But Kincaid’s eyes were on the length of wired bone that Nick carried in his left hand. “You did it! You stole the Tyrannosaurus tail!”

“I did it,” Nick agreed.

“Splendid, splendid! This calls for a drink while I get you the rest of your money.”

Nick accepted the bundle of bills and stuffed it into his pocket without counting. By now he was used to payments in cash, and it felt like the right amount. “I should tell you that Miss Peters here is an insurance investigator. If you’re wise, you won’t carry out your scheme to recover the Pliny diamond.”

Kincaid’s face went white. “What are you talking about?”

Nick saw that Lynn was listening intently, so he hurried on. “You do work for the museum. Surely they would have allowed you to take a plaster cast of the tail bones for your models. No, Mr. Kincaid, you didn’t pay me $20,000 because you wanted to have the tail, but rather because you wanted the museum not to have it. I asked myself what they’d do without this tail segment, and the answer was obvious. They’d hire you to replace it with a reproduction.”

Kincaid lowered his eyes. “You’re right. I needed the work.”