“Wow.” Nancy sat up and pushed the hair out of her eyes. “That was too close.”
Monique gaped at the boulder now blocking their path. “That rock must be six feet across,” she breathed. “How could an accident like this happen? These trails are very well maintained.”
“Maybe it wasn’t an accident,” Franz said, glancing nervously about him. “I bet someone pushed that boulder and meant to hit me with it!”
At that exact moment Mick came racing back down the trail. “I just saw a man on the ledge above you!” he gasped. “Then I heard—Are you all right?” he asked, pale with shock.
“Barely,” Nancy replied. “What did the man you saw look like?”
“He was a big chap. Blond hair,” Mick said. “Anyway, he took one look at me and took off.”
“Oh, no,” Monique whispered. “It was Bart! He really is trying to kill you, Franz. It’s time I put a stop to this,” she added. “I’m going to call my parents to tell them what’s going on.”
“I wouldn’t do that just yet,” Nancy said quickly. “It would only give Bart a chance to back off and cover his tracks.”
“If he doesn’t know we suspect him,” Mick added, “we can catch him in the act—”
“And he’ll go to jail,” Nancy finished.
“But that means Franz will be a—what do you call it?—a decoy,” Monique protested.
“I don’t mind,” Franz said staunchly. “Not if it helps us catch Bart.”
Monique finally agreed to wait a few more days before speaking to her parents.
“Now, we should head over to our first rendezvous point and tell the others what’s been going on.”
“Fine,” Franz agreed. He took a step up the trail, then paused to glance at Nancy curiously. “Why don’t you tell Monique and me why you’re here? We didn’t expect to find you on the mountain with us, you know.”
“Well, when you stood up Bess and George and me at that café yesterday morning, we got curious—
“Oh, my, I totally forgot our meeting when Monique called and suggested we get away. I am sorry,” Franz said apologetically.
As the four of them inched around the boulder and made their way to the first rendezvous point, Nancy and Mick explained further why they had come after Franz. Before long, they reached Bess, George, and Erich. The three of them were delighted to see Franz safe and sound—and horrified when they heard how narrowly they all had escaped being killed.
“I told you this mountain wasn’t safe. Let’s get out of here!” Bess cried. “I think we should take the first train back to Geneva.”
“Wait a minute.” Now that he was out of danger, Franz suddenly seemed to have turned back into the cheerful, fun-loving person he had been when the girls first met him. “Why waste Zermatt? As long as we’re here, let’s enjoy it. How about some summer skiing?”
“Um, I don’t see any snow, Franz,” Nancy said, casting a skeptical eye over the green, mountainous terrain surrounding them.
Franz laughed. “There’s snow at the top of the mountain,” he explained. “People ski here year-round, you know. We can rent the equipment.”
“Skiing the Matterhorn in June,” George said, her brown eyes sparkling. “Kevin will die when I write him about that.”
“Let’s do it!” Nancy said enthusiastically. “We may never have the chance again.” At least they’d be relatively safe on the ski slopes, she thought. Bart couldn’t possibly attack Franz in front of so many witnesses—could he?
• • •
A tram carried Nancy and her friends to the summer ski area high above the hiking trails. Nancy loved skiing, and flying down the slopes in hiking shorts and a T-shirt was exhilarating. The conditions were excellent, and the view was gorgeous.
So why am I feeling so dragged out? Nancy wondered as she stood at the top of the best slope she had ever seen. George whizzed by with a delighted wave, and Bess was eagerly alighting from the chair lift. Everyone else was in a great mood. So what was the matter with her?
Deep down Nancy knew what the answer was—she just didn’t want to face it. The truth was, she was worried about Mick.
Not about their feelings for each other. Nancy was confident she could sort those out in time. What bothered her was that she was beginning to realize that Mick was not only a charming guy—but a possible suspect in this case. Maybe he was the mastermind directing Bart’s attacks.
Everything about his behavior over the past few days was beginning to nag at Nancy. As she began a series of graceful curves down the mountainside, she made a mental list of all her suspicions.
To start with, Mick seemed to know more about Geneva than the average tourist. True, he claimed to have read his guidebooks carefully, but his familiarity with the city didn’t seem as if it had come out of a book. Nancy was fairly sure Mick knew Geneva better than he was pretending to—but why would he lie about that?
Then there was the way Monique had recognized Mick at the club that first night. Had she perhaps spotted him with Bart somewhere? Mick had claimed not to recognize Bart on the mountain ledge, but he might have been making that up. . . .
Also, Mick had disappeared from the outdoor concert at the Parc de la Grange shortly before Franz had found the note about the gold shipment in his pocket. And he had shown up just after the huge boulder was shoved at Franz. In fact, Nancy realized, it was possible that he hadn’t spotted Bart running away from the site at all. What if he’d pushed the boulder himself and blamed it on Bart?
What if Mick was Franz’s attacker? What if he was just using Nancy to get at Franz? What if—
Suddenly Nancy realized that she’d reached the bottom of the slope. Wow, she thought to herself. I’m a better skier than I thought if I could negotiate that whole trail without paying any attention.
Still trying to get her thoughts about Mick into some kind of order, she skied smoothly toward the tram. Before she reached it, Erich whizzed up in front of her. “Wait! Don’t go back up!” he said urgently. “I just remembered something.”
“Something about the case?” Nancy asked.
He shook his head. “It’s about my father. He is giving a party at the lake at seven tonight, and he’s expecting Franz and me to attend.”
“Oh, no. You’re right,” Franz groaned. He and Monique had just pulled up behind Nancy, with Bess and George alongside. “And it’s already three-thirty! I’ve been so preoccupied that I totally forgot, too.” Franz smacked his forehead. “How could I be so stupid? Uncle Pascal is angry enough at me already.” He sighed and glanced at his watch. “Well, there’s nothing we can do but leave immediately.”
“But the train back to Geneva will take four hours,” George objected. “And we still have to return our skis, collect our stuff, and get to the station. You’ll be horribly late.”
“We can’t take the train, Franz,” Erich put in. “We’ll have to charter a plane.” Looking over at Monique, he added, “Monique should come, too. I know her parents will be there.”
George’s jaw dropped. “Oh. I see. Well, a plane certainly will get you back in time.”
“Yeah. Have fun at the party,” Bess added wistfully. “We’ll see you when we get back to Geneva.”
Franz gave the girls a puzzled look. “What are you talking about? You’re coming back with us, of course. It’s our treat.”
“That’s awfully kind of you,” Nancy began, “but we really couldn’t let you—”
“Nonsense,” Franz broke in jovially. “You saved my life. Please let us do this one small thing. After all, the party won’t be any fun without you. And Mick, too—Where is Mick?”
“Here I am,” Mick called, skiing up to the group. “Hello, everyone. I hope you’re talking about food. I’m starving!”
Everyone broke out laughing. “There is a slight change of plans, Mick,” said Franz. “Maybe we can find you something to eat on the way to the airport. Now let’s hurry, everyone!”
• • •
“An
other limousine,” George said a few hours later, pretending to be casual. “Summertime skiing, chartered planes, limousines—it’s all getting a bit dull, don’t you think?”
“Dream on,” Bess said with a laugh. “It will never be dull to me.”
Nancy, Bess, George, and Mick were riding in a limousine that Franz had sent to pick them up at the hotel and take them to the party at the Haussmans’ estate. The afternoon had been pretty frantic. Nancy and her friends had raced to the ski lodge to return their equipment, raced to a private airstrip where Erich had chartered a plane, and raced back to their hotel once the plane had landed in Geneva.
They had showered and dressed in record time—Nancy in an off-the-shoulder teal dress, Bess in a white jumpsuit, and George in an emerald green trapeze dress. Even Mick had managed to rent a black tuxedo. The only thing the four of them still hadn’t had a chance to do was eat.
“I hope they have food at this party,” Bess fretted, twisting her belt nervously.
“I’m sure they will,” George said, peering out the limousine window as they pulled into the Haussmans’ driveway. “Judging by the way they decorate, they probably know how to entertain.”
The house certainly looked festive, Nancy thought. Every window was lit up, and a row of flaming torches led from the front door out to the lawn where the party was. Nancy could see a huge, white, torchlit tent on the lawn. There were people everywhere: sleek women in designer dresses, men in tuxedos, waiters scuttling around with trays of food and champagne.
“Come on, guys,” Bess said eagerly. “Let’s hit those hors d’oeuvres!”
As the group followed the torchlit path, Franz and Monique materialized at the edge of the crowd and came over to them.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” Franz said warmly. “Now we can escape from all the boring old folks.”
“And I would like to introduce you to my parents—not that they are old or boring,” Monique said with a smile, smoothing the skirt of her dark red strapless dress. “They have heard all about you.”
“They have?” Even to herself, Nancy sounded faintly alarmed.
“Oh, not that you are investigating these attacks on Franz,” Monique reassured her quickly. “Just that you are new friends of ours. Mama and Papa are eager to meet you. Won’t you come out to the tent with me?”
Everyone started to follow her except Franz. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he told them. “I need to check the lights out on the dock.” He turned and stepped quickly across the lawn.
Monique sighed. “He just doesn’t want to see my parents now that he knows they hired Bart,” she said. “I can’t really blame him. But when you meet my parents you will realize that they couldn’t possibly have known what kind of person Bart is. They are good people, Nancy—really!”
Certainly Monique’s parents seemed like good people when Nancy and her friends met them. Monsieur Montreux was a short, apple-shaped man with gray hair and a ready smile. His wife had once looked much like Monique, it was easy to see, but now her figure was matronly and her dark hair was mostly gray. The two of them hardly appeared to be the kind of people who would knowingly hire a blackmailer to terrorize a prospective son-in-law.
“We are very pleased to meet you,” Madame Montreux said warmly, shaking the hand of each girl in turn. “Monique has so much enjoyed getting to know you. Please feel free to call us if you need anything during your stay. Here is my husband’s card.” She pulled a card out of her purse, handed it to Nancy, and then turned to Mick, who was standing behind Nancy. “And you are—”
“Just Mick,” he said brusquely. “No one important.” To Nancy’s surprise, he didn’t even bother to step out of the shadows to shake Madame Montreux’s hand. If Monique’s mother was surprised at Mick’s rudeness, she didn’t show it. She smiled politely and then turned to greet a cluster of people who were passing by.
“What’s the matter, Mick?” Nancy asked as they moved out of the Montreux’ earshot. “You could have been a little nicer.”
“Sorry, love,” Mick said vaguely. “I guess they just weren’t my type.”
“Not your type? What are you talking about?”
“Forget it.” Mick sounded as irritated as Nancy felt. Thinking back on the sizzling kiss they had shared earlier that day, she could hardly believe what was happening to them now.
“Just forget it,” Mick repeated. “Look, I’m not in a great mood tonight, Nancy. I think I’ll go down to the dock to see if Franz needs any help. As long as I’m stuck at this party, I might as well make myself useful.”
With that, he strode off toward the water’s edge, leaving Nancy staring after him.
“I wish I knew what’s gotten into him,” she said to Bess in a perplexed voice. “Do you have any idea?”
Before Bess could answer, there was a tremendous splash from the dock. For a second a hush fell over the entire party. Then Nancy heard Franz’s water-choked cries mingled with Mick’s voice shouting from the dock.
“It’s Franz!” Nancy called hoarsely. “He’s fallen into the lake!”
Chapter
Eleven
NANCY RACED TOWARD the water, feeling frightened for Franz. Her chest was heaving when she reached the dock and looked down at the water.
To her relief, she saw that George and Mick had already jumped in and were buoying Franz up. Within moments, they got to the dock’s ladder and Nancy reached down to help Franz up. Mick and George quickly followed.
“Qu’est-ce qui s’est passé?” a stern voice spoke up from behind Nancy. It was Erich’s father, Pascal. A waiter was with him, shining a flashlight on the three soaking-wet young people.
When Pascal saw Franz, he burst into a spate of angry French. Nancy couldn’t understand the words, but she got the meaning without any trouble: Pascal Haussman was once again scolding his nephew for behaving irresponsibly.
Franz smiled weakly at his uncle and mumbled something in French. Then he gave a halfhearted wave to the guests who were staring at him from the lawn. “I’m fine,” he called in both French and English. “Please, continue your party.”
Casting one last angry look at Franz, Pascal Haussman walked back toward the house. The rest of the guests began talking, laughing, and eating just as they’d been doing before the accident.
“They’re used to me,” Franz said bitterly. “Old Franz, always clowning around. I’ll probably have to die before it occurs to any of them that I might really be in trouble.”
“You mean you didn’t just fall in?” Nancy asked in a low voice.
“Exactly, Nancy. I—”
Just then Monique ran up onto the dock. “What happened?” She broke off as her gaze lit on the soaking wet trio before her. “Oh, but we must get you dry right away.” Gesturing toward the cabanas at the edge of the water, she told George, “I’m sure there are some clothes in the women’s cabana. Here, I will go with you. Franz, why don’t you take Mick up to the house and lend him some of your clothes? You are about the same size, no?”
“Good idea,” Franz agreed. As Mick began to follow the waiter up to the house, Franz turned to Nancy and said in a low tone, “While I was checking one of the lights on the dock, a man came up to me and slammed me against a mooring. He told me he would call me tomorrow at noon for the details of the truck route. He didn’t even let me answer but just pushed me in the water.”
Nancy’s heart sank. Mick had been heading for the dock just before Franz was attacked! “You couldn’t tell who it was?” she asked.
“No. The voice was muffled, and the person shoved me from behind. But I think it was Bart.”
Franz followed Mick and the waiter to the house, and Nancy became lost in thought. She absently fingered the card Monique’s mother had given her—then suddenly blinked.
Something Monique had mentioned in Zermatt flitted across her mind. Monique had said that Bart had an office at her parents’ house. Since everyone connected with the case seemed to be at this party, now might be
a good time to investigate Bart’s office. He might have some files that would incriminate him, or Mick, or anyone else who might be in on the scheme to blackmail Franz. If all went smoothly, Nancy and her friends could get in and out of the Montreux house without anyone knowing they’d been there.
Nancy walked quickly across the lawn to Bess, who was talking animatedly to a handsome young man. She didn’t notice Nancy until Nancy tapped her on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” Nancy said apologetically. “I hate to disturb you, but we have to go, Bess.”
Bess opened her mouth to protest, but stopped when she saw Nancy’s expression. “Sure, Nan,” Bess said. “Let’s go find George.”
As the two girls headed across the lawn, George emerged from the ladies’ cabana, dressed in navy slacks and a white polo shirt, both of which were slightly too big for her. “George!” Nancy called. “Over here!”
She quickly explained what Franz had told her about being pushed off the dock. “Franz thinks it was Bart, which means Bart may be at the party.” Nancy couldn’t bear to mention her doubts about Mick yet. “It occurred to me that this might be the perfect time to check Bart’s office at the Montreux house. If he’s at the party and Monique’s parents are at the party—”
“Let’s just hope their security system is at the party, too,” George put in. “Because otherwise I don’t see how we’re going to get into their house in the middle of the night.”
Nancy nodded thoughtfully. “I was wondering about that myself. We have to hope that the alarm won’t be turned on,” she said determinedly, “or that we can figure out a way to get around it.”
“Aren’t we even going to say goodbye to Franz or anyone?” Bess asked as the girls skirted the party crowd, heading back toward the house.
“We can’t. I don’t want anyone to notice us going or find out where we’re headed,” Nancy said. “Why don’t you go wait in front of the house? I’ll call us a cab.”