George stopped me before we reached the entrance.

“I want a good look at this outfit, Nance. Could you give me a spin?” I obliged. George applauded, beaming. “Wow, can’t believe I’m going to a party with this high-fashion detective. Someone should paint you,” she said.

George was right. I had been so nervous about fitting in with the arty types and their grand fashions, but now I was the one turning heads. The man with the antlers stopped in his tracks to get a better look.

“Honey, that coat is to die for. Is it Ralph Lauren?” he asked.

“Nope. It’s Nancy Drew couture,” said George proudly.

The man dipped his antlers in deference, then floated away.

More red-jacketed staff directed us past the imposing double doors, where we joined a line of guests waiting to go through a metal detector. The Duchess had hired private security for the evening, but I also noticed quite a few River Heights police officers among the guests. Bad news for the statue thief. They’d have to be crazy to try something tonight, but then again, I also knew there was a certain class of criminal who would consider this impossible heist an exciting challenge.

Ahead of us, the woman with the heavy gold earrings was passing through the metal detector with a creamy brown coat folded over one arm. The machine lit up with flashing red alarms. A security guard asked her to please remove her earrings. I could hear her shouting from the back of the line.

“But these are twenty-four-karat gold!”

The guard asked the woman to empty her purse and remove her shoes and go through the gate again, but the alarm sounded a second time.

“I’m afraid it has to be the earrings, ma’am.”

“This is an outrage! An encroachment on my civil rights! These earrings are genuine. I won’t be insulted by a machine! Why, I ought to have you sued within an inch of your life!”

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find Beverly DeSantos standing behind me. Bess, George, and I had met her when we were investigating a case in Shady Oaks involving her famous grandfather’s photographs. Tonight, her dark curtain of hair was twisted with gold and silver threads.

“It’s good to see you here, Nancy,” Beverly said. “A party like this always attracts some peculiar types. I assume you already know that woman in the caftan. Angelica Velvet, the owner of Slay Gallery.”

“Wow, I didn’t recognize her.”

“Yeah, wasn’t she blond before?” said George.

“I think so. … She looks totally different from last week at the gallery opening.”

“That’s her style. Angelica’s always trying out different looks. She has a whole room in her house just for wigs,” said Beverly.

“That’s an expensive habit.”

“Angelica has always been about her profits. Did you know she’s currently being investigated for the sale of a forged painting? It’s why she had to leave the city and come to River Heights. Or at least, that’s the art world gossip.”