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explained the events of the past day, describing the situation at Beau’s studio, as well as the tension between Michael Rockwell and his children. “I need a favor. What do you know about Michael Rockwell?” she asked her father.
    â€œThe man is in a league of his own,” he answered. “From what I’ve read, he seems to be honest and well-respected. I’ve never met him, though I do have a colleague who once handled a real estate deal for him.”
    Carson Drew agreed to see what he could learn about Michael Rockwell. “I’ll call you as soon as I have some answers,” he told Nancy. “Though I’ll probably be seeing you before then—on TV.”
    â€œIt’s possible,” Nancy said, laughing.
    By the time Nancy hung up, Bess had skimmed a few magazines and marked articles that featured Mimi and her designs.
    While Bess took a shower, Nancy studied every photo and blurb she could find on Mimi Piazza. The thin, fragile-looking woman was always pictured in a well-tailored suit with a handkerchiefin her breast pocket. Many of the articles mentioned that Mimi was a security freak, with one of the best guarded studios in the garment district.
    Bess and I will need a story to get in the door, Nancy thought as she planned their visit to Mimi’s studio. I hope she won’t recognize us from the videotape on “Fashion Flash.”
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    An hour later Nancy and Bess climbed out of a cab on Seventh Avenue, in front of the impressive white building that took up half the block and housed Mimi Piazza’s studio. In the lobby Nancy checked the directory and saw that Mimi’s studio occupied the second and third floors.
    Next Nancy glanced at the uniformed guard who sat at a wide counter that blocked the elevators. A burly man with a bulldog face, he was intimidating. He nodded at a young man heading in who flashed an ID card, then turned back to Nancy and Bess.
    â€œWhat can I do for you, ladies?” the guard asked.
    â€œWe’re here to see Mimi Piazza,” Bess said, her cheeks dimpling as she smiled at the man.
    â€œDo you have an appointment?” he asked.
    â€œWe’re design students at the Fashion Institute,” Bess began. “We met Mimi at a lecture she gave last week.”
    â€œShe said we could stop in for a tour of herstudio when we had a chance,” Nancy fibbed, without batting an eyelash.
    They told the guard their names, and he called the studio. Nancy crossed her fingers as the guard told their story to the person on the other end of the line, then hung up.
    â€œSorry, ladies,” he said. “Ms. Piazza won’t be able to see you today.”
    â€œThere must be some mistake,” Nancy insisted. “She’s going to be upset when we tell her we were turned away.”
    The guard wouldn’t budge. “I’ve got my orders, miss. Have a nice day.”
    Outside the building Nancy said she refused to give up. “There’s got to be another way in,” she said, studying the building’s facade and walking to the end of the block. The driver of a truck was backing his rig into an open loading dock for the building. Two men directed him from the sidewalk.
    â€œThere’s the loading dock for this building,” Nancy said.
    Bess nodded. “But we’ll never get in that way past those men.”
    â€œThat’s why you have to distract them,” Nancy said. “Give me two minutes, then you’re on.” Leaving Bess behind, Nancy turned the corner and walked beyond the loading dock so she was waiting behind the truck. A minute later she heard Bess exclaim, “Ouch!”
    Peering around the truck, Nancy saw Bess collapse to the sidewalk and grab her ankle. “Can somebody help me, please!” she called.
    The two men ran to Bess. Nancy heard the door slam on the cab of the truck as the driver joined them.
    Seizing her chance, Nancy darted