The Mystery of the Third Lucretia (A Kari and Lucas Mystery)
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If it hadn't been for Lucas's photographic memory, they might not have remembered the man. It had been almost a year since she and Kari noticed him copying a famous Rembrandt painting in the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. But now in the National Gallery in London, they spot the same guy, copying another Rembrandt. Then, when a never-before-seen Rembrandt painting is discovered in Amsterdam, the girls begin to suspect the truth. Convinced that no one will believe them without hard and fast evidence, the teenage sleuths embark on a madcap adventure to find the forger and bring him to justice.
against the law, or he wouldn’t be so worried about being recognized. And we’re maybe the only people in the entire world who know there’s something fishy going on.” I hadn’t thought of it that way, and I had to admit, it was pretty cool being one of the only two people who knew that something against the law was happening. Somehow Lucas always finds a way of getting me interested in whatever she’s interested in. “If we only knew what the crime was,” Lucas said. “Let’s think. What kind of
since third grade, how well I’d managed the German tourist thing, etcetera, etcetera. Once on the bus, we pulled out what we’d written and drawn. Lucas had her drawing on the inside back cover of her guidebook. I’d used the back of two postcards. We’d drawn everything we’d seen of Gallery Guy’s canvas. But the only thing we’d seen that looked like anything in particular was exactly one fingertip. That’s it. Just a fingertip. It looked like a woman’s fingertip. The fingernail side. I was the
she’d walked straight up to the new guard. “How can I help you?” the guard said. He was short and wiry, with red cheeks and bright blue eyes, and he had a really big accent. “We were wondering about Bert, the guard who’s usually here. Is he absent today?” Lucas asked. The guard suddenly looked very serious. “How did you know old Bert? He wasn’t your uncle or nothing, was he?” “No, we don’t know him,” Lucas said. “We just saw him in here sometimes, that’s all.” “I have bad news for you,
the mission, which had curtains with the kind of lace trimming they have a lot of in Amsterdam. Jacob had gone into what looked like a warehouse. It had a pointed roof without any decoration. The windows were especially big, and an outside staircase, almost half as wide as the ministreet itself, crisscrossed the front of it. I remembered something Mom had said, that in Amsterdam, stairs like this were meant for loading, so bulky things could be carried into and out of the big windows on each of
that made her think he was going to hit her with it. Then he put it back down and held it on his lap, probably afraid the people around them might see it. “I’ll make you suffer for that,” he said quietly, and he shifted into reverse, checked his mirrors, and started backward. Finally he pulled the car around the corner they had just passed and into the Quarter. A few blocks later he pulled the car onto the curb, grabbed Mom’s left wrist, jerked it around her back like he’d done to Lucas, and