If Looks Could Kill (12 page)

D
EREK
'
S NEXT WORDS
told Nancy everything she needed to know.

“So let's not have any more fuss about money, shall we?” he said. She could hear the sneer in his voice. “From now on we're equal partners.”

Equal partners! Was Derek blackmailing someone? Who would he want to become equal partners with? His sister, Martika? That didn't make any sense, Nancy thought. Sure, he'd want to be partners with her, but Martika had been the killer's intended victim—three times!

That left only one possibility. Derek had to be talking to Christina Adams.

Nancy was now desperate to get inside Derek's suite. She wanted to see the newspaper article he'd mentioned.

She raced back down the hall to the lobby.
George and Bess were just coming in—Bess through a rear door and George through the front. “I went to Martika's suite,” George said. “No one answered.”

“I've searched the grounds,” Bess added wearily. “No sign of anyone.”

“Listen,” Nancy said. “I've got a plan, and I need your help.”

Pulling them back into the corridor so no one could hear, Nancy quickly told her friends what she'd learned at Derek's door.

Bess was obviously relieved. “Nan!” she said. “That proves he's not the murderer, doesn't it?”

“I guess it does,” Nancy had to admit. “But he's still dangerous, and now that he's trying to blackmail a murderer, he's in danger himself. Which is why you've got to be careful with him, Bess.”

“What do you want me to do, Nan?” Bess asked.

“Get him to go someplace with you,” Nancy replied. “Someplace where there are a lot of people around. I don't want you to be alone with him. I just need him out of his room for an hour or so.”

“That might be easier at night,” George said, “when the dance club is open.”

“We can't wait that long,” Nancy replied. “He's in his room now. You'd better get going,
Bess. After you're both out, I'll search his suite. Derek said he could prove whoever he was talking to was the murderer. So let's hope he wasn't bluffing. George, I want you to call police headquarters on Saint Thomas and ask to speak to Kurt. Find out exactly what he did after he left you last night. It may give us a clue. Then meet me in Derek's suite.” Nancy grabbed her friends' hands. “Good luck, guys. And, Bess, be careful.”

Bess ran up the stairs while George went off to make her phone call. Nancy followed Bess as far as the top of the stairs, waiting in the same spot where she'd watched the bellhop deliver her phony message to Derek. From there she could see Bess outside Derek's door. Soon it opened and Bess went in.

Then Nancy waited—and waited. Through the window on the landing below her, she saw Christina walking arm in arm with Preston Winchell outside. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but Nancy knew well enough what Christina wanted from him. Now that there had been a murder at Cloud Nine, maybe she had already lured him and his money away from Martika.

“Come on, Bess!” Nancy said under her breath. Ten minutes had gone by, and still she remained inside Derek's suite.

Finally Bess and Derek emerged, Derek with a
tennis racket in his hand. Stopping to make sure his door was locked, he led Bess down the hall toward Nancy.

Nancy fled down the stairs and ducked into the ladies' room off the lobby. After a couple of minutes, when she felt sure that Bess and Derek had gone, she headed back up the stairs.

Using the lock pick she carried in her handbag, Nancy wasted no time in getting Derek's door open.

She stepped inside, and her heart sank. Derek's suite was an incredible mess, with papers scattered everywhere.

Nancy realized she'd never have time to sort through them all. Imagining his looking at the article as he threatened the killer, she went straight to the desk, where the phone was, to begin her search.

One stack of papers caught her eye—photocopies of financial projections for the resort. They didn't belong there. Martika would never have involved her brother in the resort's finances. What was more, the copies appeared to have been made in a rush, with the printing off center or even running off the page. It made Nancy wonder whether Derek had made the copies in a hurry and on the sly.

The projections were hard to decipher, but Nancy was able to understand two things from them. First, most of the money that had built
Cloud Nine came from one source—Preston Winchell. Second, the resort was on shaky financial ground. Not nearly enough money had been put into it to keep it going for more than a few months. That meant that unless there was a large new infusion of money, the resort probably would not survive.

Just then there was a knock on the door. Nancy jumped right out of Derek's chair, her heart pounding. Thankfully, it was only George.

“Captain Logan wouldn't let Kurt talk to me,” George said with a frown.

“Never mind,” Nancy told her. “Help me sort through all this stuff.”

“What are we looking for?” George asked.

“A newspaper article from New Zealand,” Nancy explained.

George sat down in a chair facing the opposite side of the desk and began going through the piles. Nancy's gaze fell on one of the papers George discarded.

“George, this is a handwritten letter from Preston Winchell to Martika!” she said excitedly. “And it's dated this morning. Winchell must have given it to Martika himself. How did Derek get hold of it so fast?”

“Maybe when he left our suite, he went straight to his sister's,” George suggested. “Martika was with us for a good five minutes after he left, remember? And then she went down to the
dining room and was there without him, for at least a little while.”

“Right!” Nancy agreed. “She was fidgety after he left. She must have suspected he was up to something. So she made a quick appearance at breakfast and then started tracking him down.”

“What does the letter say?” George asked.

“It says that in light of the fact that a murder has been committed at Cloud Nine, he is no longer willing to provide sole financial backing to keep the resort going. He's demanding that Martika provide matching funds from her own reserves. He reminds her that he asked her to do so before the resort opened. She said she couldn't swing it, so he went along. Apparently, he's not willing to now.”

“Sounds like Cloud Nine is in trouble,” George said.

“Right,” Nancy agreed. Checking her watch, she added, “Bess and Derek may be coming back pretty soon. We've got to find that newspaper article. Now, where could it be . . . ?”

Just then Nancy glanced up at a bookshelf across the room. A volume there was lying on its spine, with a piece of paper protruding from it. Nancy went over and took down the book. Opening it, she drew out a folded page from a newspaper. “I've got it, George!” Nancy cried triumphantly.

The page was slightly yellowed, but there was
no doubt it was the right one. The paper had been ripped across the upper right-hand corner, where the date and name of the newspaper had been. “Let's get out of here, George,” Nancy said excitedly. “We'll read it outside.”

Nancy led George out of the suite and down the hall toward the side exit nearest the tennis courts. Outside, they found a quiet spot near a hibiscus tree and read the article.

“ ‘November fifteenth,' ” Nancy began out loud. “ ‘Peter McDaniel, of Auckland, was found dead in his home early this morning.' It's an obituary—for Maura's father!”

Nancy read on. “ ‘The sixty-five-year-old millionaire died of natural causes. He is survived by his only child, Maura, twenty-seven, who will inherit his entire estate.”

“Whew,” George said. “That would have made Maura pretty rich.”

Nancy kept on reading. “ ‘Mr. McDaniel, born Peter Sawin, had lived in Auckland since 1972, when he left the United States in disgrace after a brokerage scandal—' ”

Nancy's jaw dropped. “Sawin!” She stared at George, who was staring right back at her.

“George,” Nancy said softly. “Maura told me the night she died that she hadn't made a will since she had no family. She
did
have a family, though! She just didn't know about them. But one of them knew about her.”

“I don't get it,” George said, confused.

“This means,” Nancy began, excitement flooding her voice, “that on Maura's death, her entire fortune goes to her nearest living relatives. And they are her cousins—Derek and Martika Sawyer!”

N
ANCY AND
G
EORGE
stood by the hibiscus tree a long moment before either spoke. On the exercise track ten feet away, guests were jogging by, utterly unaware of all that was going on.

Finally Nancy said, “This changes everything, George.”

“I'll say,” George agreed.

“After Maura was murdered, I passed Christina Adams talking to a bunch of people,” Nancy said. “She was wondering why anyone would want to murder poor Maura. At the time, I thought the same thing. I thought the murderer had to have mistaken her for Martika Sawyer. But I was wrong!”

“Wait a minute, Nancy,” George broke in. “Somebody's been trying to kill Martika, too. But who?”

“It could be Derek,” Nancy said. “We know that he's a sponger and a thief.”

“I guess it runs in the Sawin family,” George said grimly. “Look at their uncle Peter.”

“Good point,” Nancy said, nodding. “So, suppose Derek learned that Maura McDaniel was his cousin and that she had no living relatives. Maybe he even found out that she hadn't made a will. He could have cooked up the contest, made sure Maura got an entry form, and fixed it so she won—meaning she had to come to Cloud Nine. He must have planned to kill her
and
Martika, so he'd end up with Maura's money and his sister's as well.

“If that's true, Derek Sawyer's a dangerous man,” George said tensely.

“We've got to find Bess,” Nancy said. “Come on, there isn't a moment to lose!”

Nancy took off down the path to the tennis courts, with George right behind her. When they got there, Bess and Derek were nowhere in sight. “Just what I was afraid of,” Nancy said under her breath.

“What is it, Nan?” George asked.

“If they aren't playing tennis,” Nancy replied, “they may not be where people can see them. Which means, we'd better find them
now.”

“There's Paul Flores,” George said. “Let's ask him if he's seen them.”

Nancy and George ran over to the tennis
instructor. “Was Derek Sawyer here with a blond-haired girl?” Nancy asked him.

“They came by a little while ago,” the instructor said. “But the courts were full. So I guess they decided to do something else.”

“Where could they have gone?” Nancy said.

“The beach?” George suggested.

Nancy's eyes widened as she took off toward the cliff.

Near the railing Nancy spotted a gardener trimming a hedge. “Have you seen Derek Sawyer?” she asked him.

“Yes, he was with a young woman,” the man told them. “They went down to the beach.”

“Uh-oh,” Nancy said.

The two girls dashed to the stairs. About halfway down they stopped on a landing to catch their breath.

George suddenly said, “There they are, Nan! Way down the beach!”

“Bess!” Nancy called out. “Beeessss!”

The wind was blowing against her, and the surf was crashing on the shore. Nancy knew there was no way Bess could hear. Derek had his arm around Bess's shoulder and almost seemed to be leading her away.

“Come on, George,” Nancy told her friend. “We don't have a minute to lose!”

The two girls flew down the remaining steps. Once they reached the beach, the going was
slower because their feet sank in the glistening sand.

“Beeess!” Nancy yelled again.

The couple had stopped beneath the cliff. Nancy could see her friend's blond hair whipping in the breeze.

“Beesss!” George screamed.

Now Bess heard them. She waved happily, while Derek stared, clearly not pleased. Nancy and George ran up to the couple.

“Hello there,” Derek said with a tight smile.

“Nan! George!” Bess said, acting bewildered. “What's going on? Is something the matter?”

Nancy nodded, but she addressed her words to Derek. “I want the truth, and I want it now, Derek. There's no use lying—I overheard you on the phone saying that you had the newspaper article.”

“I—I—” Derek stammered.

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Nancy cut in impatiently. “Somehow you found out that Maura was your cousin and that her father had left her a lot of money.”

“No!” Derek cried, his frustration apparent.