If Looks Could Kill (2 page)

“What you can't see from this side of the island,” Kurt went on, “is our magnificent swimming beach. It's on our south shore, behind the main house. It is completely secluded because Cloud Nine is the only resort or house of any kind on Rainbow Cay.”

A round of applause answered him. Nancy couldn't help thinking that if Kurt didn't like his job, he was doing a terrific job of hiding it.

Kurt kept pointing things out as the cars swung around one sharp turn after another. “Below us, near where we docked, is our other beach. The surf's calmer there. That's where you'll find our scuba shack. We've got snorkeling, diving, an underwater trail along the reef, sailboats, jet skis, Windsurfers—and instructors to help you with everything.”

Just then the carts reached the top of the hill
and came to a stop. Martika Sawyer, radiant in a pink pastel caftan, was standing on the steps of the resort to greet them. Her raven hair glistened in the sunlight, and her ice blue eyes sparkled. Nancy had to admit that she was as beautiful as she appeared to be on her magazine covers.

A few photographers were standing around her, ready to shoot Martika and the new celebrity arrivals. Nancy supposed they were members of the press covering the opening of Cloud Nine.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” Martika gushed, blowing kisses to her guests. “I'm thrilled that you're here. We're going to have a fabulous time together.”

Nancy noticed that Martika and Kurt barely nodded to each other. As he stepped out of the cart, he seemed to have lost all of his energy. He backed away, leaving Martika to her friends and admirers.

A prosperous-looking middle-aged man with silver hair joined Martika on the steps. “I'd like you all to meet Preston Winchell, my silent partner.” She gave the man's arm a squeeze.

“Hello, everyone,” he said with a smile and a nod. “Hope you all have a great time.”

“There, you see?” Martika said. “He's not so silent after all!”

Everyone laughed.

Joining Martika on her other side was a tall, handsome man with dark hair and blue eyes
almost identical to Martika's. He held a pair of binoculars in one hand. Martika now slipped her arm through his and introduced him. “And this is my brother, Derek,” she explained. “If you have any questions and can't find me, he'll be happy to help you. Won't you, Derek?”

“Thrilled,” Derek echoed, smiling and nodding to the guests. Nancy detected a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Just then Derek's expression changed to a frown as he peered into the distance. “There seems to be another boat approaching,” he said. He lifted his binoculars to his eyes. “We aren't expecting any more arrivals, are we, Martika?”

“Give me those,” Martika said quickly, taking the binoculars from him and training them on the large yacht that was now entering the harbor.

Suddenly Martika gasped and dropped the binoculars.

“What is it, Martika?” Preston Winchell asked, taking one of her hands in his.

“I'll kill her!” she said, her eyes wild with fury as she stared out at the harbor. “I'll murder that woman if it's the last thing I do!”

B
EFORE ANYONE
could react, Martika made a dash for the steps that led down to the dock.

“Martika! Wait!” Derek called as he took off after her. The photographers scurried close behind. Everyone else was too startled to move, but soon began talking about what had happened.

“Folks,” Kurt called, climbing the steps to the porch in two giant leaps. “I'll show you all to the lobby,” he said, doing his best to cover for Martika.

Nancy had stooped down to pick up the binoculars Martika had dropped. She trained them on the harbor below.

The newly arrived yacht had anchored offshore, and a motor launch was now pulling away from it and moving toward the dock. A uniformed man was at the wheel with just one
passenger—a willowy woman in a white sundress, holding a hand to her hat to keep it from blowing off in the wind.

“Come on,” Nancy said to Bess and George. “Let's see what's up.”

She took off down the steps, with Bess and George right behind her. A few of the other guests decided to go, too, including Helen MacArthur, the magazine editor. Most of them followed Kurt Yeager, buzzing about all the commotion.

At the bottom of the long flight of steps, Martika stood on the dock glaring at the motor launch. Derek was behind her with his hands on her shoulders, clearly trying to calm her.

“That woman in the boat,” Bess said, short of breath as she joined Nancy and George on the dock several feet off to the side of Martika. “I recognize her from her ads—it's Christina Adams.”

“The health spa queen?” George whispered. “But she's Martika's biggest competitor. What's she doing here?”

“Good question, George,” Nancy said. The motor launch docked at the wharf, and a staffer reached out to give Christina Adams a hand up.

“Dear, dear Martika!” Christina said, going right up to the model. She planted a kiss on Martika's cheek. Martika stood, rigid with anger,
as the photographers' cameras snapped. “I'm so sorry to crash your little party like this, but would you believe it, my boat developed engine trouble just as we were passing! Isn't that awful? I'm sure they'll have it fixed quickly, but until then it looks as if I'm stranded.”

Christina removed her hat to show off her sun-streaked honey blond hair. She batted her long eyelashes at the newspeople. Martika continued to stand there with her hands on her hips, apparently too furious to speak.

Nancy knew a little of the history between the two women. Christina Adams's salons and spas were legendary. In opening up her resort, Martika was challenging Christina's empire—which wasn't likely to make Christina happy. Now here she was, crashing Martika's opening.

Behind Martika, Nancy heard Derek mutter, “Uh-oh, trouble in paradise.”

“You
are
going to ask me to stay, aren't you?” Christina asked, acting like a little lost waif. “I promise I'll be quiet as a mouse,” she said, giggling lightly. “And, oh, what a lovely place you've got here! I'm so happy for you! I'm sure you're going to be a great success.” Once again she kissed the flushed Martika on the cheek, then waved to the photographers.

“She could stay on her boat, you know,” Nancy heard Derek whisper in Martika's ear.

Martika shook her head and seemed to come
out of her daze. “No, no, Derek. Of course Christina must stay with us,” she said, giving her rival a plastic smile. “I'm sure you'll be very happy here. And who knows—you might even pick up a few pointers about how to run a world-class spa.”

Having had the last word, Martika marched back up the steps at a rapid pace. Derek remained with the press and Christina as the train of carts approached to take them back up the hill.

Nancy didn't want to wait. Signaling for Bess and George to follow, she took off after Martika, catching her about halfway up the steps.

“Martika!” she said. The gorgeous model turned. “I'm Nancy Drew,” Nancy said, extending her hand. “And these are my friends, Bess and George,” she added when Bess and George caught up.

“Nancy!” Martika said, suddenly seeming to relax. She shook hands with all three girls and gave them a dazzling smile. “I'm sorry you had to witness what just happened. I can't believe that woman had the nerve to show up here! She's trying to ruin my opening.”

“I thought it was very nice of you to invite her to stay,” Nancy offered.

“What else could I do?” Martika asked, sighing. “The press was watching. It wouldn't have looked very good if I'd refused. What I really wanted to do, though, was strangle her.”

Martika gave a sad little laugh. “Just kidding, of course. But, you know, it isn't easy going into a business like this. It wouldn't take much to wreck everything I've set up. And I want everything to be perfect. Preston Winchell, my financial backer, is here, and I just know Christina would love to steal him and his support from me.”

“I think she has a lot of nerve to just show up like she did,” Bess volunteered.

“And how convenient that her boat had engine trouble right here at Rainbow Cay,” George added.

“It does look calculated,” Nancy agreed. “Martika, could Christina's arrival have anything to do with the problems you wanted to tell me about?”

Martika peered up and down the stairs, then said, “Since you mentioned it, let's talk. I know the perfect place.”

She turned off the stairway and led them down a path lined with blooming bougainvillea. It twisted below the tennis courts and ended in a lovely secluded garden enclosed by a brick wall. Two frangipani trees bordered the entrance, and inside there were stone benches set amid perfectly tended beds of flowers and herbs. The air was piquant with their aroma.

“It's so peaceful here,” Nancy said, breathing in the smell of a combination of sage, basil, clove, and mint.

“This is where we're suggesting people come to meditate. We'll try to attend to the soul as well as the body at Cloud Nine,” Martika explained.

They sat down on the benches surrounding a small fountain. “You were going to explain why you sent for me,” Nancy prompted.

“I've been receiving threats,” Martika said, focusing only on Nancy. “Notes warning me not to open the resort. Of course I ignored them—nothing's going to stop me from making Cloud Nine a success. Still, I want to find out who sent them and what the person is planning.”

“What about the police?” Nancy asked.

“Out of the question,” Martika said. “Can you picture this place crawling with the St. Thomas police? The reporters and photographers would have a field day, and my grand opening would be a disaster.”

Nancy understood. “Has anyone else seen the notes?” she asked.

“No one,” Martika said softly.

“Not even your brother?” George asked.

“Derek?” Martika looked as though the idea of showing the notes to him was absurd. “Derek's my brother, and I love him. But he can't keep a secret.”

“Could
he
have written the notes?” Nancy asked.

Martika appeared to be taken aback by the
question. “Oh, no,” she said uncertainly. “At least, I don't think so. I can't imagine he'd do that to me after all I've done for him. Besides, why would he want me to fail? I'm his meal ticket—always have been.”

Martika shook her head and went on, “If you ask me, Christina Adams is behind everything. I would have said so even before she pulled this latest stunt. Now I'm sure it's her.”

“I'd like to see the notes,” Nancy said.

“Of course,” Martika said, rising. “They're in my suite. I want to show them to you.”

As they walked back up the hill to the main building, the conversation turned to other things. “I've always loved your photos,” Bess said. “You have so many different looks. How do you do it?”

“Oh, that's mostly the photographers' and stylists' genius, not mine,” Martika said modestly.

“You know which photo spread of yours I really loved?” Bess asked. “The one you did with the snake. It was incredible. But weren't you scared?”

“Scared?” Martika repeated as she led them into the lobby where the guests were getting to know one another and checking out the boutiques. “Not at all. I love animals, including snakes. The snake in the spread was my pet boa, Squeeze.”

“Squeeze?” George repeated. “It sounds dangerous.”

“Hardly,” Martika said. “He wouldn't hurt a fly. Besides, I feed him well and keep him in a very strong cage in my suite.” Leading them down a softly lit, white-carpeted corridor, she added, “Would you like to meet him?”

“I'll pass,” Bess said a little shakily.

“Oh, don't be silly, he's perfectly wonderful. He loves people, and he's not at all slimy or dangerous,” Martika insisted as she stopped at the door to her suite and unlocked it.

The outer chamber was a combination office and sitting room, with a sliding glass door that opened onto a private patio. Set against one wall were a large white lacquered desk and a huge bookshelf. “The notes are in my desk,” Martika said. “But come say hello to Squeeze first.”

Opening another door, she led them into her living quarters. The entire suite was decorated in pastels: peach walls and a powder blue ceiling that echoed the blue of the sky. A king-size canopy bed was centered on the far wall. It was covered with plump, patterned pillows. Beside it was a night table with a graceful bird-of-paradise bouquet.

They passed the open door into Martika's bathroom. “Wow, what an incredible setup!” Bess said, peeking inside.

“Go on in and look,” Martika offered, and the girls filed in. There was an enormous Jacuzzi with whirlpool jets, a sauna, and towel warmer. On the dressing table was an unbelievable variety of cosmetics and beauty aids.