Sweet Revenge (12 page)

“We've got to find that jar of sweetener,” said Nancy. “It could be the key to everything.” She recounted what Dr. Demado had told her.

“So we're not dealing with poison, we're dealing with sabotage,” said George, her brown eyes wide.

“That's right,” answered Nancy. “We've got to determine who hates the Chocolate Festival enough to ruin it.” She let out a sigh. “We don't know whether the culprit used the calomel because it was the first thing he or she came across, or whether he or she chose it on purpose.

“We don't even know for sure that the calomel was
in
the sweetener,” she added. “That's why we've got to find that jar.”

Nancy started pacing around the little room.

“While everyone's busy with the festival, I'm going to check all the Tagleys' rooms for it.”

“What if someone walks in on you? What are you going to say?” Bess asked nervously, getting off her bed and joining Nancy and George in the living room.

“That's not going to happen,” Nancy told her with a grin. “Because you and George are going
to be my lookouts. I know you'll be great at fending people off while I'm poking around under the Tagleys' beds.”

“We'd better come up with some kind of excuse, don't you think?” Bess whispered a few minutes later as the three girls headed toward the stairs that led up a flight to the Tagleys' suite of rooms. The fourth-floor hall was hushed and shadowy. Nancy felt as if they were in the middle of a ghost story.

“Maybe I can say I dropped an earring—” Bess suggested.

“And it just rolled up four flights into the Tagleys' wing?” George finished for her. “I doubt they'll go for that. If anyone comes up here, let's just try to distract them.”

Nancy held her breath as she twisted the knob of the first door they came to. It swung open easily.

“Thank heaven for friendly family inns like this one,” said George with a chuckle.

“What a pretty bedroom!” Bess commented.

It was furnished entirely in antique cherry furniture, and on the floor was a faded but still handsome Oriental rug. From the framed pictures of Samantha and Jake that lined the walls, Nancy guessed this was Mr. and Mrs. Tagley's room.

“Look, this must have been taken when Jake was about four years old,” said Bess, pointing to a picture of a sunny-faced little boy in a cowboy suit. “What a cutie!”

“Hey, get outside,” scolded Nancy with a
laugh. “You guys are supposed to be standing guard, remember?”

“Oops, sorry!” Bess scooted out of the room to stand with George.

Nancy quickly searched the room. No sweetener in the closet or any of the bureau drawers. None under the bed or any of the furniture, nor in the medicine cabinet of the bathroom adjoining the bedroom. After a few minutes she decided she was wasting her time.

“No luck,” she said, closing the door carefully behind her. “Let's try another room.”

To her relief, the next door they tried was also unlocked. This room was obviously Jake's.

“What a mess!” George marveled, staring at the piles of books and magazines on the floor. The desk was cluttered with papers, and the unmade bed was piled high with laundry. “Anyone who wanted to break in here would give up and leave, thinking someone had already beat him to it.”

Nancy gave George a friendly jab on the shoulder.

Nancy sifted through piles of wadded-up shirts, peered cautiously around precariously balanced stacks of books, and dug mountains of debris out from under the bed before shoving them back again. The whole search would have been a lot easier if she had dared to clean up the room, but, of course, that was impossible.

She had just decided to give up when Bess leaned into the room. “Nancy, hurry!” she begged. “You've been in there for ten minutes!”

“Okay. I'm done—at least, I think I am. There may still be a pile of laundry I didn't paw through, but I don't think so.”

“Couldn't you just skip Samantha's room?” urged Bess. “I'm sure she didn't take the jar. I just know someone's going to discover us any minute. And besides, it's lunchtime!”

“I can't quit now.” Leading the way, Nancy rounded a corner onto a sunny corridor lined with windows. Seeing another door there, Nancy tried it.

Unlike Jake's, Samantha's room was in pristine order, with a dainty canopy bed and white-painted furniture.

“This won't take long, anyway,” Nancy muttered to herself as she began pulling out bureau drawers.

“Come
on,
Nancy!” Bess urged. She was dancing up and down with impatience. “You're taking forever!”

“It's only been about three minutes,” Nancy protested as she pulled open the closet door. “Just give me a chance to—”

Nancy froze.

“Oh, no,” she whispered.

Tucked into the back of the closet, behind a pair of leather tennis shoes, was the jar of sweetener.

N
ANCY PICKED UP
the small jar and hurried back into the hall. “Guys, I hit the jackpot!”

Bess's mouth fell open. “In Samantha's room? I don't believe it.” In her surprise she seemed to forget they could be found out any minute. But George grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hall.

A minute later they were back in their suite with the door safely shut. Bess plopped down on the couch. “I just don't believe she put that jar there, Nan,” she said again. “Someone's framing her. Why would she hold on to something so incriminating? Besides, Samantha wouldn't poison a guy she used to be in love with.”

Nancy went to get her purse from her room and tucked the jar of sweetener safely inside. “I hope you're right, Bess.”

“I hope so, too,” said George. “But how are you going to prove it, Nan?”

“I'm not sure. Right after lunch I'll take the jar to the police lab. I want them to tell me whether it's actually got calomel in it before I start talking to Samantha.” She checked her watch. “We're already late. We'd better get down to the dining room.”

• • •

“You were right, Nancy,” said Officer Sherbinski, coming into the waiting area of the police lab. She held up the jar of sweetener Nancy had given her. “This sweetener
has
been laced with calomel. I'm afraid this may implicate Samantha.”

Nancy nodded. She'd been waiting for the better part of the afternoon, but it had been worth it.

“By the way, Tim Krueger has been released,” the technician added.

“Why? Lack of evidence?” Nancy asked.

The officer nodded. “This jar of poisoned sweetener is our best evidence.”

“It's not enough to arrest Samantha, though,” Nancy put in quickly.

“No. But it gives us a very good reason to question her further.”

After thanking Officer Sherbinski, Nancy went back outside.

If I could only find the jar of calomel itself! she
thought as she climbed into her car and switched on the ignition. But whoever had found the calomel originally had surely gotten rid of it by now. But then Nancy would have thought the poisoner would have thrown the sweetener away, too.

It was almost six-thirty by the time Nancy reached the inn again. When she opened the door to her suite, Bess and George weren't there, but something else was. Nancy saw that a note with her name on it had been slipped under the door. It was printed on cheap stationery that had been folded in half. Nancy unfolded it and read the message inside.

If you want to know more about the poison, meet me in the east wing at 7:00
P.M.
tonight.

It was signed “A Friend.”

The handwriting was utterly without character. Nancy couldn't begin to guess whether it had been written by a man or a woman.

Note in hand, Nancy walked toward her bedroom. What the—

She hurried over to her bed and snatched up a second piece of paper. This note was from Bess and George.

Nan,

We're down in the dining room. Don't skip dinner just for a case! Meet us there!

B&G

Nancy grinned to herself. She
was
going to skip dinner. But she'd slip down to the dining room first to ask them to cover for her.

But Nancy didn't get to leave the dining room as fast as she'd planned.

“Tim!” Nancy exclaimed. He was walking toward the Tagleys' table arm in arm with Samantha.

“It's great to be back,” Tim said warmly. “I never would have thought I'd miss the Chocolate Festival. But it only takes a second or two of being in police custody to make you appreciate what you've got.”

“When did they release you?” Nancy asked.

It was Samantha who answered. “Last night,” she said happily, giving his arm a squeeze. “He's had a twenty-four-hour vacation from the festival, so now he's extra-ready to help me out again.” She leaned teasingly against her boyfriend and ruffled his dark hair. “Aren't you? Now can we please eat? I'm starving.”

They continued on to the table, but Nancy stayed rooted where she was. A horrible thought had just struck her.

“Nancy! The appetizers are on their way!”

Bess's voice shook her back to reality—sort of. She started toward her friends, who were sitting at a table by themselves.

“And they'll be a lot more appetizing if they're
not
made of chocolate,” said George as Nancy reached the table and pulled out a chair. “I'm getting a little sick of eating dessert before my main course—”

Suddenly she stopped speaking and peered more closely at Nancy. “What's the matter, Nan?”

“I just talked to Tim,” Nancy said.

“But—but it's great that he's not being held anymore, isn't it?” Bess asked.

“Yes,” Nancy said slowly, “but he was released last night—not today.”

“So?” Bess bit into a chocolate-iced roll.

“So he could have been the one who poured that flour all over me. He had plenty of time.”

“Oh, no,” said George. “I was really hoping Tim wasn't a suspect.”

“Me, too,” Nancy agreed. “But I guess we can't rule him out yet.” She sighed. “This is terrible. I have too many suspects!”

“Maybe eating something will make you feel better,” suggested Bess.

Nancy shook her head. “No, thanks. I'm not eating. I've got a rendezvous instead.”

“A rendezvous?” echoed George.

In a low voice Nancy explained.

“Nan, you can't meet a total stranger,” Bess protested in a worried voice. “It could be the murderer!”

“What murderer?” asked Nancy. “No one's dead that I know of. It's probably just someone who wants to tell me something about the case in a place where we're not likely to be overheard. Now, come on. Can you guys really see me
not
meeting this person, whoever it is?”

Both of her friends shook their heads.

“Would you guys cover for me again?” Nancy
asked. “If anyone asks for me, don't tell them what I'm doing, okay?”

“No problem,” George assured her. “Want us to save you something to eat?”

“No, thanks. I can call room service later.” Nancy chuckled. “Maybe Mrs. Reames will have some more gossip for me.”

• • •

If the Tagleys' living quarters had been a little creepy, the east wing at night was positively frightening. The moonlight streaming through the windows gave the only light. It shone down onto the huge, empty rooms filled with signs of construction—ladders, scaffolding, cans of joint compound and paint, and ghostly white tarpaulins draped here and there.

Nancy shuddered. Don't get nervous, she reminded herself. You're here for a reason. But she still didn't know exactly where in the east wing she was to meet her invisible “friend.”

Nancy squared her shoulders resolutely as she walked from one dark, deserted room to another. She was so determined to stay calm that when the noise first sounded, she told herself she hadn't heard a thing.

But then it happened again. And this time Nancy knew she wasn't imagining things.

It was a soft, gentle tapping. In broad daylight it would have sounded like nothing more than a child knocking on a door. In the darkness it sounded like a ghostly summons beckoning Nancy forward.

“Stop it,” Nancy scolded herself aloud. “It's just the floors settling or something.”

Tap tap
 . . .
tap tap
 . . .
tap tap
 . . .

No, that was too regular to be the floors. Someone was making that sound. Could it possibly be a signal luring her to the meeting?

Nancy tiptoed toward the doorway of the vast, empty room she was standing in and poked her head out into the corridor. There was no doubt about it—the sound was coming from down the hall.

Moving as silently as she could, Nancy slipped down the hall. Always the tapping seemed just a few feet ahead of her, but she couldn't seem to reach it. She followed the sound down the hall, around the corner, and into yet another shadowy room. Then, abruptly, there was silence.