We watched Angelica Velvet yank the earrings from her ears and throw them to the ground before marching through the detector for a third time. No alarms.

“Everything about her is fake, down to the earrings.” Beverly gave a bitter laugh.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll keep an eye on Ms. Velvet tonight in case she decides to try and smuggle something out under that caftan.”

It was George’s turn to walk through the detector. Something in her tuxedo tripped the alarm, and the security guards took her aside and passed a wand over her jacket until they discovered a small pocketknife tucked away in one of her jacket’s hidden pockets.

“I don’t intend to use it! It’s only in case of emergency,” George protested. “You see, my date has a tendency to get into scrapes.”

“This is a party,” said one of the guards, an older man with a walrus mustache. “There won’t be any emergencies. You’ll just have to make sure your date stays out of trouble.”

“It’s okay, George. I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” I said, half trying to convince myself. At this very moment, the statue thief might be waiting in line right behind us. I’d have to keep my eyes peeled for anyone suspicious, though in this crowd of avant-garde fashionistas, that seemed like an impossible challenge.

“You can pick up your knife at coat check when you leave,” the guard said, dismissing us.

Just inside the entrance was a small foyer with a coat-check station on the left. Angelica Velvet was speaking sharply to the coat-check boy, shaking her cappuccino-colored coat in his face.

“I expect my coat to still be spotless when I return. It’s made from vicuña wool, which is exceedingly rare and delicate. My coat is probably worth more than your parents’ whole house. Don’t touch it, don’t look at it, don’t even breathe on it, or I will know.”

The coat-check boy nodded, absolutely terrified. He took the coat with two fingers and settled it onto a wooden hanger. Given the incident with Angelica’s “twenty-four-karat-gold” earrings, I was skeptical of her claims about the coat.

I told George and Hannah I’d catch up with them inside. As Angelica turned away, her upper lip curled in disgust at the coat-check boy’s ignorance, I walked right up and introduced myself. “Angelica Velvet? My name is Nancy Drew. I was at your gallery opening last week.”

Angelica looked down her long, horsey nose and tossed her chestnut-brown wig.

“Interesting coat, little girl. Is it vintage?”

“In a way, I guess it is. I made it from two of my dad’s old coats.”

“Hmm. It’s certainly … unusual.”

“Thank you,” I said sweetly, choosing to take that as a compliment. “I really enjoyed Diana Yip and Mona Pearl’s performance. It’s too bad that we never got to see the second half. I think a lot of people in River Heights would’ve liked to see what they did next. Do you have any idea what happened to Mona Pearl’s statue?”