Peril at Granite Peak (11 page)

Joe let out a low whistle. “That's hardcore,” he said with a worried glance at Chet.

I tapped Mrs. Gallagher on the arm. “Look,” I said. “There was glass in the waffle.”

Chet still had his mouth wide open, but his eyes widened with alarm. “Did you swallow any, dude?” Joe asked him.

Chet shook his head and closed his mouth. “I don't think so,” he said, his words slightly garbled. “I stopped chewing when Josie yelled.”

“Good thing she yelled when she did, then.” I shot a look at Josie, who was clutching the edge of the buffet table and staring at Chet in horror. “Someone could die from a stunt like this.”

“Like Chet.” Joe stared at our friend with concern.

I nodded. “Or Stanley,” I reminded him quietly, trying not to let anyone else hear. “That waffle was meant for him.”

“Come with me, Chet,” Mrs. Gallagher said briskly. “You've got a couple of pretty nasty cuts on your tongue and the roof of your mouth. I want to check you out in the infirmary.”

She led him away. “Is he going to be okay?” Josie cried, her voice high and sort of fluttery.

“Looks like it,” I told her. “Where'd that waffle come from?”

Josie didn't seem to hear me. Her eyes were wide and anxious as she stared after Chet. “This is terrible,” she moaned. “Just terrible!”

“I know,” I said. “I—”

I cut myself off as Josie burst into tears and raced away, crashing out through the side door. “Stay here,” I told Joe quickly. “Talk to anyone you can.”

Joe nodded. “On it, bro.”

I took off after Josie. By the time I burst into the hall outside the dining room, she was nowhere in sight. I jogged to the lobby. She wasn't there, either, though the Richmonds were comforting their crying kids. I hoped they weren't too traumatized by Chet's bloody mouth, but I couldn't worry about that right now. Skirting around them, I hurried down the hall leading to the staff's quarters.

Someone was over by the side doors, but it wasn't Josie. It was Stanley. Realizing I hadn't seen him yet that morning, I paused. He was holding his parka, shaking it vigorously and sending drops of water flying everywhere. Nice. Making another big mess for someone else to clean up.

He noticed me looking. “What do you want?” he snarled.

“Nothing.” I rolled my eyes and continued around the corner into the staff hallway.

I reached Josie's room. The door was slightly ajar, so I gave it a light push. The room was empty.

Okay, where could she have gone? While I stood there thinking, I heard a faint yap. Toy Toy!

Following the sound, I realized it was coming from the back stairwell. I peered in through the glass part of the door.

Josie was in there, but she wasn't alone. She was facing off against Cody. Toy Toy was leaping around the humans' feet and letting out an occasional yip.

I could see both Josie and Cody's faces in profile. Josie was still crying, and Cody looked angry and appeared to be talking fast. Was he questioning her about what had just happened? I bit my lip, wishing I could hear what they were saying. But if I opened the door, they'd know I was there.

The sound of footsteps distracted me. Turning, I saw Rick hurrying down the hall. His eyes were down, and he didn't notice me standing there in the stairwell alcove as he rushed past.

With one more glance at Josie, I turned to follow Rick. He was one of our suspects too—and a felon. He'd been in the dining room during the waffle incident. And now here he was, racing along, looking tense.

Staying out of sight, I hurried along behind him as he rounded the corner and then ducked into a closet, emerging a moment later holding a hammer and a box of nails. I hid behind a potted plant until he rushed past again.

I tailed him to the kitchen. Mr. Gallagher was already there, holding a piece of plywood. The door to the side hall was propped open, and Rick hurried in.

“Let's do this,” he said gruffly. “It's cold in here.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Gallagher agreed. “You find the nails?”

They were fixing the window. Okay, nothing suspicious about that. I almost left them to it, but Mr. Gallagher's next words stopped me.

“Don't tell my wife, but I don't think the wind broke this window,” he said grimly.

Rick let out a snort of agreement. “No way,” he said. “It broke from the inside out. Hard for the wind to do that.”

I pressed my back against the wall, listening closely. They were silent for a moment, then Mr. Gallagher spoke again. “Let's not mention this to anyone,” he said. “Because Stanley Wright is already threatening to sue, and if he finds out about more trouble . . .”

My eyes widened as his voice trailed off. Stanley was threatening to sue the lodge? That wasn't good. Especially if he found out about that waffle . . .

The men had gone quiet again, so I slipped away and went to look for Joe. He was in the lobby, watching the Richmond kids run around. They seemed to have recovered from their shock at Chet's accident, at least judging by the way they were shrieking and laughing as they chased one another.

“Find out anything?” I asked Joe.

“A little. The chef said Stanley provided his own waffle mix—gave it to her yesterday after complaining about the taste of her waffles.”

“Typical.” I snorted. “Think she got mad enough to slip some glass in there?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. She seemed really upset.” Joe shrugged. “Although she did admit to making his waffle batter first and leaving it sitting around in the kitchen while she made the rest.” He smiled grimly. “That means just about anyone could've slipped in long enough to tamper with it. Or they could've messed with the mix last night.” He sighed. “So, not too useful, I guess. Did you catch Josie?”

“Not exactly . . .” I glanced around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear me. The Richmond parents and Poppy were there, but all of them were over near the fireplace.

So I told Joe what I'd overheard in the kitchen. “Wow,” Joe said. “Why am I not surprised that Stanley would try to sue?”

“I know, right?” I said. “I guess that's all the more reason someone might want to shut him up.”

Just then Mrs. Gallagher arrived. Joe and I rushed over.

“How's Chet?” Joe demanded. “Where is he?”

“He's resting in the infirmary with an ice pack on his face,” Mrs. Gallagher reported. “I gave him something for the pain, and something to help him sleep a little.”

“Wow, he must be hurting if he actually needs help to sleep,” Joe joked weakly.

Mrs. Gallagher smiled. “Don't worry, boys. Chet should be just fine, though his mouth will be sore for a while. Luckily the cuts aren't deep, and I only had to pick one shard out of his tongue.”

I winced at the thought of that. Poor Chet!

A couple of the Richmond kids raced over. “We're bored!” the little girl announced. “Do you have any more toys?”

“There might be a few things in one of the cabinets,” Mrs. Gallagher told the kids, gesturing at the shelving system built into one of the walls. “Why don't you take a look?”

“Yay!” the little boy yelled. He raced over to the cabinets and started flinging open all the doors he could reach.

“Not the ones on the bottom row,” Mrs. Gallagher called. “Try a little farther up.”

But the boy was staring into one of the cabinets, a small one built into the narrow area at the edge of the fireplace. “Hey!” he shouted. “My boots!”

Joe and I wandered over just as the kid pulled out a pair of red snow boots. “Are those the boots that got lost?” I said in surprise.

“Not lost.” The little boy glared at me. “Stolen!”

“How did those get in there?” Mrs. Gallagher bent to peer into the cabinet. “Oh, my!”

She pulled out several other items—a pair of sunglasses, a baseball cap, a paperback book, and an MP3 player.

“It's all the missing stuff!” Joe exclaimed. “How'd it get in there?”

“I have no idea.” Mrs. Gallagher looked confused. “We don't store much stuff in the lowest row of cabinets.”

“What's this?” Joe bent and poked at another item in the
pile, a raggedy bit of cloth in the shape of a bone. “Looks like a dog toy.”

“That must belong to Toy Toy.” Mrs. Gallagher sounded distracted as she gathered up the other items. “I'd better start returning these things to their rightful owners.”

As she hurried off, Joe and I stared at each other. “Weird,” he said. “Think Josie did it?”

“Why would she steal her own dog's toy?” I nudged the cloth bone with my toe.

Joe shrugged and grabbed the toy. “Let's go ask her.”

I couldn't think of a better idea, so I followed. Josie wasn't in the dining room or kitchen or any of the other public spaces in the lodge. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen her since witnessing her argument with Cody earlier. I filled Joe in on that incident, which left us both wondering: where had she gone?

“Better check her room,” Joe said, leading the way to the staff's quarters.

We knocked on Josie's door, which was closed now, but there was no answer. “Josie?” I called. “You in there?”

“What are you guys doing?” It was Cody. He'd just rounded the corner at the end of the hall.

“Looking for Josie.” Realizing he might be the last person who'd seen her, I added, “Have any idea where she might be?”

“No, why would I?” he replied quickly. Then he shrugged. “Hang on. I was just coming to get Blizz. She had a busy
night with those raccoons, so I stuck her in my room to nap after breakfast.”

He hurried over to his door and pushed it open. All three of us gasped as frigid air blew out at us.

“Hey!” Cody shouted, rushing in.

Joe and I followed. The room's two windows were wide open, and snow was pouring in!

B
LIZZ BARKED AS FRANK AND
I entered the freezing-cold room. With her thick fur coat, she was in a lot better shape than we were. I was already shivering as I helped Frank wrestle one of the windows shut. Cody was working on the other, kicking snow out of the way with his sneakers.

Soon both windows were closed and locked. “What a mess!” I exclaimed, brushing snow off my shirt. “How'd it happen?”

Blizz seemed bright-eyed and happy as she sniffed at the snowy floor. Cody watched her, frowning slightly. “I don't know,” he said. “I'd better grab a mop to clean this up.”

We followed him out of the room. Blizz came along, her tail wagging.

“Good thing it was Blizz in there and not Toy Toy,” I joked, giving the dog a pat. “Poor little Toy Toy isn't used to facing the cold without his full winter wardrobe.”

Frank chuckled, but his eyes looked serious. “Seems like our saboteur might've struck again,” he said as soon as Cody was out of earshot.

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “So let's get back to work.”

We decided to start by checking out the scenes of the various crimes. There was nothing much to see in the stairwell or by the side exit, and Josie still wasn't answering her door. We couldn't very well go look at the ski trail at the moment—the snow was lighter than ever, but the wind had picked up again, blowing the drifts around—so we headed for the kitchen next.

The chef was puttering around near the stove when we came in. “What can I do for you, boys?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Frank said. “Um, Mr. G just asked us to check on the window. See if it's letting any cold air in.”

That seemed to satisfy the woman. She returned to whatever she was doing, humming tunelessly under her breath. Frank and I headed for the boarded-up window. Nothing seemed out of place inside, so I opened the next window and stuck my head out into the cold.

“See anything?” Frank asked.

“Hard to see much with the snow blowing in my face,” I complained. “Wait—what's that?”

The wind had just shifted the snow banked up against
the building, revealing a flash of silver. Another gust covered it so quickly I would have missed it if I'd blinked.

I pulled my head inside. “There's something in the snow out there,” I told Frank. “Give me a boost.”

Frank looked dubious, but offered me a leg up. “Don't get frostbite,” he joked.

“Trust me, I'm not planning to stay out there long.” I hoisted myself over the window frame. “Just make sure nobody locks up behind me. Or if they do, call Blizz!”

“Hey!” the chef said, finally noticing what was going on. “What are you two doing?”

Then I dropped to the ground and couldn't hear her clearly anymore. Brr! It was cold out there. Really cold. Wrapping my arms around myself, I stepped carefully toward the base of the other window.

Okay, a real detective would probably slow down at this point, be careful not to disturb the scene too much. But I was too cold to take things slowly. Instead I kicked at the drifted snow until I felt my foot hit something hard.

“Aha!” I muttered through lips that were already half-frozen.

Bending down, I dug into the snow. My hands started to go numb almost immediately, but it was easy to feel what I was looking for. Mostly because whatever it was poked me in the finger.

“Ouch,” I yelped, yanking my hand back.

Then I reached down into the snow more carefully. This
time I pulled out the object—a large pair of stainless-steel scissors.

“You okay out there?” Frank was looking out the window.

“Yeah. Got it.” I hurried over, tucking the scissors into my back pocket so he could pull me up with both hands.

Inside the warm kitchen, I showed Frank what I'd found. “Scissors?” he said.

The chef gasped and hurried over. “My kitchen shears!” she cried, grabbing the scissors. “I've been looking for those all day!”