“He seems very involved with the students,” Nancy noted. “I’m impressed that he’s so interested.”
“He’s a great guy,” the teacher agreed. “Anyway, he suggested that the dinner food could tie in to the speech. I don’t recall anyone mentioning shish kebabs. There were lots of people around, though.”
“Including Jane Sellery?” Nancy asked.
Mr. Ruxton, looking surprised, nodded. “How do you know Jane Sellery?” he asked.
“I talked to her last night. She and Gina Fiorella know each other,” Nancy said, trying to sound concommittal. “But if no one mentioned shish kebabs, why did you send the oleander skewers to the chef?”
Mr. Ruxton’s face was blank. “I didn’t,” he said.
Nancy straightened up. “The chef said she got a note from you, with the skewers,” she said.
“Why would I do that?” he asked, puzzled.
Nancy’s mind raced. “I’d better go check out a few details,” she said. “I’ll report back later.” She turned and walked swiftly back to the service elevator, which took her down to the kitchen again.
Questioning the chef, Nancy got the whole story. The bundle of skewers had simply appeared on the counter, the woman said, with a note attached. The chef showed it to Nancy. Typed on hotel stationery, it had Gary Ruxton’s name typed at the bottom, but no handwritten signature.
Keeping the note for evidence, Nancy went next to the swimming pool level. Whoever put those skewers in the kitchen didn’t have to go far for them, she reasoned. Any hotel guest could have found them—right by the pool. She thought at once of the man with the beard who’d run away from her at the pool earlier.
Emerging onto the pool terrace, she crossed over to the oleander bushes. Though the sun was going down, floodlights lit up the terrace, and Nancy knelt to inspect the shrubs. Soon she found a patch of oleander with several branches hacked away. Milky sap still oozed from the cuts. The cutting was recent.
Nancy walked back to the elevators, deep in thought. Why would anyone do something so dangerous—risking the lives of many young people? And was this crime related to Gina Fiorella’s incidents?
She considered her two main suspects so far. It was hard to believe that Jane Sellery would go this far just to settle a school rivalry. Nick Kessler might be angry about Gina firing him, but would he have hurt Gina? He did seem to have a crush on her, though; would he have hurt other people for Gina’s sake?
Nancy decided to return to her room so she could think about the case without being disturbed. Taking the elevator up to her floor, she strolled down the hall, thinking about where all the clues left her. It was still possible that Gina’s father’s enemies were behind everything. From what she’d heard, they might be the kind of people who would hurt a banquet full of students. Was the bearded guy working for them?
Unlocking her door, Nancy stepped inside. The red message light was flashing on her phone. She crossed to the phone, lifted the receiver, and punched the button to retrieve the call. Then she listened for the recorded message her caller had left.
It was a deep voice, probably a man’s, Nancy figured. It sounded harsh and gravelly—and very frightening.
The voice snarled, “Keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you, Nancy Drew!”
Chapter
Seven
NANCY FROZE, THE PHONE receiver in her hand, as the message lapsed into a dial tone. The anonymous caller’s threat still rasped in her ear. Whoever was behind all this knew who she was now. And clearly this was someone who would stop at nothing to achieve his or her goal.
But what was that goal?
Nancy called the hotel’s operator. “This is Nancy Drew, in room 714,” she said. “I just picked up a phone message I didn’t understand. Could you tell me who left it?”
“I’m sorry,” the operator said. “Our system is fully automated. No operator talks to the caller, and there’s no record of the call.”
“Thanks anyway,” Nancy said, and hung up. “The marvels of modern technology—it only makes things easier for criminals,” she muttered to herself.
Nancy glanced around the room to make sure her caller hadn’t left any other surprises for her. Then she checked her watch. It was almost eight o’clock. The dinner was probably ending now, but Bess and George would be cleaning up for at least an hour. She didn’t feel like staying here alone—not after that call. She decided to go find Ned.
Stepping back into the hallway, Nancy headed for the elevators. As she turned the corner, she saw Jane Sellery. Nancy’s mind flashed to an image of Jane at the banquet, standing by the stricken boy, mouth open in horror. Jane’s behavior suggested that she was shocked by the poisoning, but Nancy knew that Jane could be playacting. Nancy noticed that Jane was still wearing the dress she had worn at dinner, but now she had a towel over her shoulder.
“Hi,” Nancy said brightly. “Going for your swim?”
Jane looked startled to see Nancy. “Uh—yes,” she answered.
Nancy raised an eyebrow. “But the pool is on the third level,” she pointed out. “And your room is on six, isn’t it?”
Jane’s eyes widened. “I was just . . . just . . . looking for a friend whose room is up here,” she stammered. “Well, maybe she’ll come on down to the pool and meet me there. ’Bye.” Jane scooted into the elevator that had just arrived.
Nancy, curious, watched her go. The arrow-shaped light above the elevator showed it was going up, not down to the pool level. Was Jane really going to the pool and had just gotten into an up elevator by mistake? Why had she made up that lame story about looking for a friend? Jane definitely was behaving strangely.
Remembering that George wasn’t scheduled to lifeguard that night, Nancy decided to drop by the pool to check Jane’s alibi. She pressed the Down button, and an elevator arrived instantly.
A big, burly man in jeans and a sweatshirt was getting off. It was Nick Kessler! Why was he still hanging around the hotel?
Seeing Nancy, the bodyguard looked alarmed. He hopped back into the elevator and jabbed a button. Nancy was so surprised that she didn’t move. The elevators doors slid shut, leaving her behind.
Nancy frowned. Clearly Nick Kessler knew who she was. Could he have left that message on her phone?
Was Nick Kessler the one harassing Gina? He certainly knew the ins and outs of the hotel, Nancy mused. And he had a motive: he’d been pretty upset at losing his job guarding Gina.
Then another thought struck Nancy. Could Nick Kessler have been paid off by Mr. Fiorella’s enemies to hurt Gina? Was he working with the bearded man?
A shiver ran through Nancy. Luckily, no one has been seriously hurt—yet, she thought. But she had an ominous feeling that something bad would happen—and soon.
Just then another Down elevator arrived and Nancy stepped in. She pressed the button for the third floor and proceeded to the pool. Glancing through a picture window in the corridor, she saw Jane Sellery emerge from the locker room, tugging a swim cap down over her red hair. Well, at least that story is true, Nancy thought.
But Nancy’s mind was still on Nick Kessler. She decided to go to the lobby. She went downstairs and asked the front desk clerk whether a Nick Kessler was staying there. He checked the register and said no.
Nancy drifted over to one of the side alcoves and dropped into a leather armchair. Here, she knew, she could see without being seen. If the bodyguard didn’t have a room in the hotel, he’d have to walk through the lobby at some point, Nancy figured, and she’d keep her eyes peeled for the man in the beard, too. Maybe he was just a friend of Evan Sharpless, but then why had he run away from her that afternoon?
An hour came and went. The lobby was a constant parade of people—meeting, mingling, going out for the evening, coming in for the night. Flocks of students from the workshop went by, chatting eagerly. But Nancy saw no sign of Nick Kessler or the bearded man.
Finally, Gary Ruxton came strolling across the lobby. The boy who’d been si
ck at the banquet was with him, along with an anxious-looking blond woman—the boy’s mother, Nancy guessed. The boy looked fine now, but Nancy knew it had been a close call. She felt sorry for Mr. Ruxton. This workshop had been nothing but headaches for him so far.
Then she saw Bess, in her waitress uniform, walking a few paces behind Mr. Ruxton. The wistful, adoring expression on her face was too much. Nancy stood up and darted behind a lush potted fern, spying on her friend.
As Bess passed near the footbridge over the pool, Ralph trotted down the steps from the front door and grabbed Bess’s hand. Bess twisted around and stared at him in panic. She yanked her hand away, but Ralph went on jabbering ardently. Meanwhile, Mr. Ruxton had turned to go up the steps and out the front door. Seeing him leave, Bess collapsed with a sigh.
Nancy smothered a smile. Then she saw that Ralph had actually convinced Bess to go somewhere with him, because the two disappeared down a side hallway. Nancy stretched her limbs and straightened up. She wasn’t having any luck finding her suspects, so she decided she might as well go back to her room. If Bess was off duty, maybe George was, too. She decided to check upstairs.
Stepping off the elevator on the seventh floor, she looked down toward room 707. Ned was stationed on a folding chair outside Gina’s door, drinking from a can of soda. Realizing she never did get to find him earlier, Nancy decided to go tell him what she’d learned about the oleander skewers.
As she headed down the hall, Nancy felt her pulse speed up. Ned looked up, saw her, waved, and grinned. Nancy broke into a grin, too. I’m not being fair to Ned, she told herself. Her stride quickened.
But just then, the door to Room 707 opened. Gina leaned out, hanging seductively on the doorjamb. Her glossy dark hair swung alluringly over her face.
Nancy felt her entire body go rigid. She half hid in a doorway, a few yards away.
“Ned,” Gina cooed, “I’m hungry. I just couldn’t eat a bite at dinner, not after what happened to that poor boy. I thought I’d order a plate of pasta from room service. Can I get you anything? I feel so bad for you, stuck out here.”
Ned smiled up at Gina. Watching him, Nancy thought how much she loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled—and how awful it was to see those eyes crinkling at someone else.
“Thanks, Gina, I’m fine,” Ned told her. “Sally brought me a huge plate of food from the buffet—no shish kebabs, luckily,” he added with a chuckle.
Gina pouted. “Can’t I get you something to drink from the minibar?” she asked.
Ned shook his head. “I just got a soda from the vending machine.” He showed her the can. “Thanks, anyway.”
Shrugging her delicate shoulders, Gina swung back into the room and slammed the door. Ned looked guiltily at Nancy. “She’s a very thoughtful employer,” he said, joking weakly.
Nancy tried to look unconcerned as she walked up to him. “Maybe I should check out that room-service order before she gets it,” she suggested. “If our culprit is willing to poison a whole banquet—”
“I’ll check the food when it gets here,” Ned said. “Go look around the hotel. I’ve got things covered here.”
Nancy drew back, hurt. “This is a very clever person we’re dealing with,” she argued. “And he—or she—clearly knows how to operate in the kitchen downstairs. It wouldn’t be hard to find out about that room-service order and poison it.”
“Yes, Nancy, but this is my job,” Ned said. “Or don’t you think I’m up to it?”
A hurt silence fell between them. Their eyes met. “It’s not that—” Nancy began weakly.
Ned’s voice lowered. “Or don’t you trust me being around Gina? That’s really it, Nan, isn’t it?”
Nancy felt her ears burn. Ned knew her so well! She hated to admit that she could be thrown off balance by jealousy, but she was.
Nancy sighed. “It’s Gina I don’t trust,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t do my best to solve this mystery.” She spun around and walked away. She didn’t dare look back at Ned.
Turning down the service corridor, Nancy pushed the button to call the service elevator. It took her down to the kitchen. Even though it was past dinnertime, the kitchen was still a hive of activity.
Paul Lampedusa, working at a nearby counter, waved. “Hi, Nancy, what’s cooking?” he joked.
Nancy strolled over to join him. “Still working?”
“I’m on the night owl room-service shift,” Paul explained. “It’s a choice assignment—you get good tips. Banquet waiters get no tips at all.”
“That’s a coincidence—a friend of mine just called down an order for room service,” Nancy said, trying to keep her cover. “Room 707?”
Paul leaned over and looked at several slips of paper clipped to a chrome strip on the wall. “Yeah, here it is,” he said. “Angel hair pasta with pesto sauce. Only she wants us to substitute linguine for the angel hair, hold the pesto sauce, toss it with olive oil, and send up parmesan cheese on the side. Freshly grated parmesan.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s a friend of yours? Stick with friends like George and you’ll be better off.”
Nancy laughed. “Well, Gina’s not really a friend,” she said vaguely. Just then a chef pushed a plate of linguine over the counter from a side kitchen area. “That must be her order now,” Nancy added. “Mind if I check it out? I mean, if she’s going to be picky . . .”
Paul laughed. “Be my guest.”
Nancy took a fork and lifted a strand of the pasta. She sniffed it, then dabbed the end on her tongue. Everything seemed okay. Next she spooned through the small bowl of parmesan cheese Paul had set on a tray beside the pasta. The cheese also checked out fine.
Paul covered the pasta with a dome-shaped silver lid and hefted the tray onto his shoulder. “Looks like you’re trying out for the Secret Service. Want to come up with me?” he asked.
Nancy nodded and started toward the elevator. At that moment Stan Wasilick bustled up. “Ms. Drew, it’s bad enough you meddle with my work,” he complained. “But when you help employees break the rules—”
Nancy turned to Paul. “You go on up,” she said quickly, hoping her cover wasn’t completely blown. Paul shrugged and went into the service elevator. Nancy turned back to the security chief.
“I interrogated Rosita Ortiz in my office for twenty minutes about how she lost her passkey,” he said. “She finally cracked and told me she had let a guest without a keycard into his room. And she said that you had told her it wasn’t her fault.”
Nancy sighed. “I was just trying to calm her down after her passkey was stolen,” she said. “And no one can prove that the intruder used her passkey to get into room 707. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” She slipped away and hurried down the wide center aisle of the kitchen. Using her good sense of direction, she found her way to the passenger elevator and rode to the seventh floor.
Striding down the hallway, Nancy uneasily noted that Ned wasn’t outside Gina’s room. Just then she saw Paul enter the hall from the service corridor and turn toward room 707. Reaching the door, he balanced his tray on one shoulder and knocked.
The door opened and Ned leaned out. Hmmm, Nancy thought. Why was Ned in Gina’s room?
Then Gina poked her head around Ned’s shoulder. “Oh, good, my pasta!” she exclaimed. Her hand reached out to pull the silver cover off the plate.
As she lifted the lid, Nancy saw Gina’s expression change. With a look of horror on her face, she dropped the lid and screamed, knocking the tray out of Paul’s hands. Nancy ran forward.
Pushing past Paul, Nancy saw the mess on the floor. A mass of slippery linguine lay plopped on the corridor carpet—with a dead rat on top!
Chapter
Eight
GINA WAS SHRIEKING AND hopping up and down. Her hands clawed wildly at Ned’s shoulder. He put both of his hands on her upper arms and held her tightly. “Calm down, calm down,” he kept saying.
Behind them Sally Harvey came to the door and peeked out. Paul w
as already on his hands and knees, trying to clear up the pasta. Sally, seeing the rat, scrunched up her face. “Yuck!” she said softly.
“Look,” Nancy said to Sally, seeing that she was calmer than Gina. “The rat could be a ploy to get you out of the room for some reason. You two may want to go somewhere else, but I think Ned should stand guard while you’re away.”
Still holding Gina, Ned said, “There’s no way I’ll leave her alone. What if these guys are armed, Nancy? I can’t leave her unprotected.”
“But, Ned,” Nancy argued, “if they’re armed, why didn’t they shoot her yesterday, instead of just knocking her into the pool?”
Gina jerked around to look at Ned, then Nancy. “Hey, do you two know each other?” she asked suspiciously.
“River Heights is a small town—everybody knows everybody here,” Ned answered quickly. “Look, do you still want pasta? Let’s go down to the café. You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten something.”
Gina, still looking wild-eyed, nodded numbly. “We’ll just freshen up a bit,” Sally said, and shut the door.
Nancy chewed her lip, feeling frustrated. “You really shouldn’t leave the room unprotected,” she told Ned.
“I’m in charge here!” Ned snapped. “And I’ll decide. I’ll have hotel security send someone to watch outside while we’re gone. In fact, I’ll go call right now.” He wheeled around and stomped over to his room. From the way he jammed the keycard into the door, Nancy could tell he was furious with her.
Good work, Drew, she thought miserably. By trying to keep Ned away from Gina, you’ve made him so mad he’ll go straight into her arms.
Paul, kneeling on the carpet as he cleaned up the mess, looked up at Nancy. “I know I’m just the waiter,” he said lightly, “but would you mind telling me what’s going on?”