If Looks Could Kill (6 page)

“Come on,” Nancy said. “Let's get you back inside.” She led Martika into her suite, searched it quickly, then said good night and headed up to her room.

Bess and George were already asleep, though they'd left the light on in the bathroom for Nancy to see by. She suddenly felt exhausted—it had been a long day. She got ready for bed quickly, knowing that she'd need to be rested and alert the next day. While everyone else at Cloud Nine relaxed, she'd be on the job.

• • •

When Nancy woke up the next morning, the light was streaming in through the windows. Bess
and George's beds were empty, though she found a note on the bureau telling her to meet them at breakfast.

She showered and dressed in under fifteen minutes, putting her bathing suit on under her shorts and tank top. Then she headed down to the patio, where breakfast was being served. She spotted her friends at a table shaded by a pink-and white-striped umbrella. They had plates of fresh fruit and muffins in front of them and were filling out their program cards.

“Bess, all these workouts—step class, yoga, high- and low-impact aerobics!” Nancy said, once she'd taken a seat. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Bess rolled her eyes. “I'm not a wimp. I can handle it.”

Nancy grinned. “Whatever you say.” Turning to George, she asked, “What about you? What have you got planned?”

“I have tennis with Kurt, a shiatsu massage, a run on the par course, and maybe water aerobics.” George's eyes twinkled. “I can't wait,” she said. “What a fantastic day! How about you, Nan?”

Nancy told her friends what had happened on the beach the night before. “So I'm not going to fill out a program card. I'm just going to wander around and talk to people.”

“Let me know if you need any help,” George offered.

“I will,” Nancy replied. “We'll talk again at lunch. For now I just want to scout things out.”

Soon after, the girls went their separate ways. Nancy's first stop was the mineral baths outside the beauty center, where she found Christina Adams soaking herself in a steaming pool shaped like a large U, entertaining Helen MacArthur, Morgana Ricci, Sadie Thomas, and Mrs. Smythe with gossip about Martika. Nancy took off her shorts and top, grabbed a fluffy white towel, and got into the pool with them. “Ahhh,” she said as she adjusted to the steaming, sulfurous water. “This is relaxing.”

“Isn't it?” Christina agreed. “Everyone, this is Nancy Drew. I met her last night at dinner. She says she's here as a guest—but I happen to know she's a detective.”

Everyone in the pool turned to Nancy with renewed interest. The
Savoir Faire
editor's face was covered with a cosmetic mask, but Nancy could tell that she was particularly intrigued.

“Who told you that?” Nancy asked casually.

“Oh,” Christina said airily, “a little bird on the staff.” She laughed, then began to wheedle. “Come on, Nancy, tell us. What are you really here for?”

Nancy smiled tensely. “I do some detective work back home in River Heights,” she said.
“But I'm at Cloud Nine for the same reason everyone else is.”

“Christina, where are your manners?” Morgana Ricci asked. “Can't you see the girl doesn't want to talk about it?” The heiress splashed a little water on her face. “Just go on with what you were saying before she got here.”

“Well,” Christina said, “I understand Martika refused to put a penny of her own money into this place,” Christina said. “It's all Preston Winchell's. That Martika's a pretty smart cookie. Smarter than I thought, anyway. Never lose your own money, I always say.”

Everyone laughed except Nancy and Helen MacArthur. The editor listened carefully, though, and Nancy guessed that she was making mental notes. If Christina kept bad-mouthing Martika around Helen, it might result in some negative press for Cloud Nine.

“I also understand that Martika nearly had to put off the opening because Preston Winchell was so upset about cost overruns,” Christina went on.

“Christina, dear,” said Sadie Thomas, with a wicked grin, “how do you dig up such juicy dirt?”

“I never dig,” Christina returned, waving a diamond-ringed hand. “I just keep my ears open, and I hear things.”

Nancy couldn't help shaking her head. Christina
Adams may or may not be the person behind all the incidents, Nancy thought, but she is certainly doing her best to spoil the opening of Cloud Nine.

“You know,” Nancy said, breaking into the conversation. “I wanted to ask you about your own health spas, Christina. I looked for you last night around ten but couldn't find you.”

“Oh, we were all in Morgana's suite, weren't we, Morgana?” Christina asked.

“Yes,” Morgana said. “We've been inseparable since Christina got here. Isn't that right, Helen?”

“Except for when Christina went to her room to get the brochure for her new spa in Mexico,” the editor said idly. She turned to Christina. “Remember, dear? I'm so glad you found it, even if it did take a little while. The Cozumel site appears to be glorious.”

Nancy's ears perked up. “How long would you say you were gone?” she asked Christina.

“My, my,” the spa queen replied. “You're certainly sounding very detectivelike. Why do you want to know where I was last night?”

Nancy lifted her hair off her shoulders. “Oh, I just wondered. I knocked at your door around ten, but there was no answer,” she lied.

“Well,” Christina said, reddening, “you must have just missed me. At any rate, what was it you wanted to ask me?”

“Oh, lots of things,” Nancy said. “But they'll wait. Right now, I've got to find Derek. Have any of you seen him?”

No one had. “By the way,” Nancy said as she got out of the pool, toweled off, and slipped her tank top over her head, “was Kurt Yeager with you all yesterday after Christina arrived?”

“For about five minutes or so,” Helen MacArthur said. She looked at Nancy sharply. “Nancy, what's going on? You
are
doing some investigating. I can tell.”

“No, not really,” Nancy protested. “I was searching for him, too.” She smiled cryptically, said goodbye, and strolled out of the mineral bath area. She'd gotten the information she needed, but now Helen MacArthur and Christina clearly suspected she was investigating. Nancy would have to be more discreet from now on.

Nancy wandered past the tennis courts, where she saw Kurt playing with a guest. She found Derek in one of the massage rooms at the beauty center. A woman was kneading the muscles in his shoulders.

“Hello, there,” Derek said when Nancy poked her head around the doorway. “Come on in! Ooooh, right there,” he instructed the masseuse, as she found a tight spot in his neck.

“Working hard this morning, I see,” Nancy commented as she sat down in a nearby chair.

“Always,” Derek replied dryly. “Nancy, right? You're the one who's friends with Bess. Did she tell you we're going dancing tonight?”

“She did,” Nancy said, giving him a knowing smile. “In fact,” she went on, ad-libbing, “we went looking for you last night, around ten. We couldn't find you.”

“That's too bad,” Derek said. “Did you check the dance club? I'm there every evening. I like to think of it as my little domain. Right, Sheila?”

The masseuse nodded and continued working on Derek. “I love to dance,” she explained with a little smile.

“Too bad you and Bess didn't find us. There's no such thing as too much beauty in this world,” Derek said.

Nancy had to keep herself from rolling her eyes. “But we did try the dance club,” she fibbed. “Are you sure you were there the
whole evening?”

“You did leave for a while, remember?” Sheila reminded Derek. “You said you had to talk to Martika. You were gone a long time. I remember I wondered what happened to you.”

“Oh, yes. That's right,” Derek said. “Thanks for reminding me, Sheila.” He acted anything but grateful.

“I also wanted to ask you about the key to Martika's suite,” Nancy went on. “She said you have one. Somebody got in there yesterday afternoon and fooled with her boa's cage.”

“Really?” Derek asked. “That's pretty funny. To tell you the truth, I did misplace my key yesterday. I could have sworn I had it on my desk, but then when I checked it was gone.”

Nancy remembered that Derek had had to pick the lock of Martika's suite when he went in to get the check, so maybe he was telling the truth about the key. “Well, see you later,” Nancy said, getting up to go. “Don't work too hard.”

“I won't,” Derek called after her.

So, Nancy thought as she went back outside. Suspect number two had no better alibi than suspect number one.

Nancy took the long way back to the main building, around the tennis courts. She chose a path that ran near the drop-off to the shore, then turned toward the herb garden. The place was deserted, just as it had been the day before.

She paused for a minute by the entryway. Just then she heard a rustling behind her. Before she could swing around, she felt a powerful arm circle her neck from behind!

A hand covered her mouth, and Nancy was dragged backward into the garden. As hard as she kicked and twisted, she was unable to break free.

Then an angry voice whispered in her ear, “All right, Miss Detective. Suppose you tell me exactly what's going on.”

T
HE ARMS TWIRLED
her around and then let go of her. Nancy found herself staring into the fierce eyes of Kurt Yeager. Taking a deep breath and facing him squarely, Nancy said, “You have a real knack for approaching people. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Sorry,” he said, his gaze down as he ran both hands through his blond hair. “But I have to know what's going on.” Kurt sat down on one of the stone benches. “There's a rumor going around about you. If you're really a friend of Martika's, why haven't I ever heard about you?” He slapped his hands down on the bench, frustrated. “I know Martika doesn't trust me, but I'm doing the best I can in an awkward situation. I just can't figure out why she's hired a detective to keep an eye on me.”

Nancy studied Kurt carefully. A moment earlier he had appeared so threatening, and now he was acting almost meek. “Okay, I'll level with you,” she said. “But you'll have to level with me first.”

“All right,” Kurt said, nodding once. “What do you want to know?”

“First of all, why did you lie to me about why you were late for your body-sculpting demonstration?” Nancy asked.

Kurt bit his lip. “I-I'm sorry,” he said. “I sort of took a little walk by myself. Sadie Thomas—the actress—said something pretty cruel about my performance in
The Flame Throwers.
I got mad and took off because I didn't want to blow up and take it out on one of the guests.”

“I see,” Nancy said. It was a plausible explanation, at least. “And where were you last night at around ten?” she asked.

Kurt frowned. “Why do you want to know?” he demanded. “Has something happened?”

“Uh-uh,” Nancy cautioned, holding up her index finger. “I'm asking the questions first, remember?”

Kurt blew out a breath of air. “Okay,” he said. “I was alone in the weight room. I don't get much chance to work out during the day, and I needed to blow off some steam.”

“You resent Martika, don't you?” Nancy said.

“Wouldn't you if you were me?” Kurt asked. “She only hired me so she could humiliate me.”

“Why did you take the job if that's the way you feel?” Nancy searched his eyes for any hint of evasiveness, but Kurt looked directly back at her.

“I
need
it,” he admitted. “I lived pretty high after the Olympics, what with all the money from my commercial endorsements. But after my movie career flopped, nobody wanted me. I lost the house I'd built in L.A., my fancy cars—everything. You get used to living well, you know? I figure this is my chance to build up my bank account so I can strike out on my own again—set up a sports clinic, something like that.”

“You'd like to see this place fail, though, wouldn't you?” Nancy pressed on.

Kurt frowned and stared at the ground. “Well,” he said softly, “I'd love to see Martika eat a little humble pie. But on the other hand, I do need this job. Besides, believe it or not, I still care about Martika. In spite of everything.” He met Nancy's gaze levelly. “Does that answer your questions?”

“Just one more thing,” Nancy said, sitting down next to him. “You're not a very good speller, are you?”

Kurt laughed. “Everyone knows that,” he said. “I'm dyslexic. Hey, no one's good at everything.”

Nancy laughed lightly.

“Now it's my turn,” he said. “Why are you spying on me?”