Danger on Parade by Carolyn Keene Page A

didn’t even know Bess. On the other hand, maybe he was working with a Mitchell’s employee who had seen Bess at the warehouse or the offices.
    â€œLook, why don’t you two go sightseeing this afternoon,” Jill said, breaking into Nancy’s thoughts. “I have to go make sure the costumes aren’t anywhere in the store. Then I have to call around to see if someone—anyone—can deliver new costumes to us overnight.” Before Nancy could offer to help, Jill stormed out of the shop.
    â€œIt’s not too late to fly home and celebrate Thanksgiving in River Heights,” Bess said, staring after Jill’s retreating form. “Of course, now that I’m a wanted criminal, I can’t even leave the state.”
    Nancy put a comforting arm around Bess’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of this,” she said. “We have to do all we can to find out who set you up.”
    â€œWe could talk to the salespeople at Mitchell’s scarf counter,” Bess suggested, her expression brightening. “I wish I had the receipt, but I think it’s at your aunt’s.”
    â€œWell, We’re meeting Aunt Eloise for tea later, right? I’ll call her and ask her to bring the charge receipt. And I’d like to talk to the person fromhere who delivered the costumes,” Nancy added. “Maybe he or she can describe the person who really accepted the delivery.”
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    â€œWhich salesperson helped you that night?” Nancy asked as she and Bess paused at the edge of the U-shaped scarf counter at Mitchell’s Department Store.
    Bess stared at the two women who were waiting on customers. “I don’t remember,” she said glumly. “It could have been anyone.”
    Nancy hoped they would have more luck here than they had had talking to the delivery boy from Disguise, Inc. He had returned to the store while the girls were there, but he hadn’t been able to offer much information. There had been so many deliveries the day before that he couldn’t even remember whether a man or a woman had signed for the costumes at Mitchell’s. He didn’t have any idea what the person looked like.
    â€œCan I help you?” An elegantly dressed woman came over to Nancy and Bess.
    â€œMy friend here bought a scarf last night,” Nancy said. “I was wondering if we could talk to the salespeople who were working then or see your record of the purchase.”
    The young woman looked curiously at Bess. “I was working last night,” she said. “The other salesperson, Diana, who was working with me has the day off. Was it cash or charge?”
    â€œCharge,” Bess answered.
    â€œI’ll be right back,” the saleswoman said, leaving the counter and heading toward the back of the store. She returned a few minutes later with a metal file box. “What’s the name?” she inquired.
    Bess told her, and the woman quickly flipped through the file. “Here we are, one silk scarf,” she announced, pulling out a yellow paper. “Is there a problem?”
    â€œWe just wanted to make sure it was signed,” Nancy said vaguely. She was disappointed to see that Bess’s signature appeared in the right spot.
    â€œYou should have been given the top copy of this, which has your original signature on it,” the saleswoman went on to explain. “The sheet we keep is a carbon copy. Everything looks okay, except— Hmm, that’s strange.”
    â€œWhat?” Bess asked, leaning forward.
    The woman pointed to a box on the receipt labeled Sales Clerk. It was blank. “No one initialed this, which means that whoever rang up the sale won’t get a commission. I can’t imagine that either Diana or I would forget to fill that in. We were awfully busy last night, but still . . .”
    But someone who wanted to set Bess up wouldn’t