If Looks Could Kill (9 page)

“Amazing
is the word, all right,” Derek agreed, getting into a golf cart. “Well, I'd better go tell Cinderella that her fairy godmother is on the way.”

“Just a minute,” Nancy said. “How long were you looking for Martika just now?”

“I don't know,” Derek said, perplexed. “Half an hour or so. Why?”

“Just wondering.” Nancy looked hard at him. He was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and
beach thongs. It would have been possible for him to have cut Martika's oxygen line and changed clothes someplace down here. “Did you see or speak to anyone while you were searching for Martika?”

“Lots of people,” Derek countered.

“And how long ago did you see Maura McDaniel?” Nancy pressed.

“Fifteen minutes ago, I guess.” Derek acted annoyed now. “What's this all about, anyway?” he demanded.

“Oh, nothing,” Nancy said, brushing him off. “I'm just curious about a lot of things around here—like the Cloud Nine corporate checkbook.”

Derek went white. “I don't know what you're talking about, but whatever it is, you'd better stay out of other people's business. Curiosity killed the cat, remember.”

“I'll remember that,” Nancy said with a little nod. “In case somebody around here winds up dead.”

Derek stared at her. “Don't think I'm not onto you, Nancy Drew.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“When I saw your name on Martika's personal guest list it surprised me because I didn't recognize it. So I did a little research, made a few calls, and found out what you do. You're a detective.”

Nancy nodded in acknowledgment. “That's right,” she said. “I am. I thought Christina had told everyone by now. I guess the two of you don't speak.”

“No, we don't, but now that I know, I think I know why she asked you here. It was to spy on me, wasn't it? Sweet of her.” With that, he guided his cart back up the hill.

Nancy gazed after him. She wondered whether she'd done the right thing by scaring him a little. If Derek were behind the murder attempts, her scaring him might be just what was needed to get him to stop. On the other hand, it might make him that much more dangerous.

• • •

Back at her suite, Nancy found an invitation on the coffee table, asking her and her friends to dine with Martika that night at a dinner for her special guests. Sounds like fun, Nancy thought as she pocketed the invitation to show Bess and George.

Lunch was served on the patio again—an enormous buffet featuring seafood salads and tropical fruit. Bess was in line with George, trying to decide what to eat. “My calorie count says to stay below twelve hundred a day,” Bess complained, “but it's impossible! I'd have to eat nothing but lettuce and kiwifruit!”

“I can think of worse fates,” Nancy said. “How are your aching muscles?”

“Much better,” Bess said. “I hit the whirlpool and the sauna, and then I had a Swedish massage you wouldn't believe. After lunch I'm getting a seaweed wrap. If I can't lose weight, at least I'm going to
look
fantastic.”

Nancy showed Bess and George the invitation to Martika's private dinner. “All right!” Bess said happily. “Are you going to sit with Kurt, George?”

“I'll sit wherever they put me,” George shot back. “Bess thinks I'm in love with Kurt.”

“Are you?” Nancy asked.

“Of course not,” George retorted. “Just because he said I have gorgeous eyes—”

“When did he say that?” Nancy asked.

“At tennis this morning. He came by while I was getting my lesson,” George replied.

“To comment on your form,” Bess said, giggling.

“He asked me to watch the fireworks with him tonight,” George said. “They're going to shoot some off from the edge of the cliff.” Putting her plate down on the table, she added, “Hey, Nan, there's a step class at two-thirty. Want to come?”

Nancy peered across the patio to where Martika was standing with Nadine right behind her. Seeing Nancy, Martika waved and pointed to Nadine, as if to say, “See? I'm well protected.”

“I guess so,” Nancy said. “Things seem pretty quiet—for the moment.”

After lunch Bess went to the beauty center, and Nancy and George headed for class.

At the workout center several different classes were going on at once. Nancy and George watched one called Abs, Tushes, and Thighs for a few minutes, then went into the locker room, where they changed into exercise clothes and stowed their bags.

They entered the studio just as the instructor began fiddling with the tape player in front. The girls got their step units and prepared for the workout of their lives. Nancy had never tried stepping before, and she really liked it. By the time a quarter hour had gone by, she was into the rhythm of it.

When the class was over, she and George decided to spend what remained of the afternoon by the pool. They ordered sodas and lay in lounge chairs at the deep end, where one of the fitness staffers was wowing a small crowd with one fancy dive after another.

It was near five when the girls began collecting their things. By the time they got back to their suite, Bess was there, getting ready for Martika's special dinner.

Soon the girls were dressed in the best outfits they'd brought. Nancy thought Bess was fabulous in a peach-colored dress that dipped off her shoulders and had a full skirt. She'd set it off with a single strand of freshwater pearls.

George's classic cream-colored silk tunic over a slender black crepe skirt was fantastic, too, especially when she twisted a black and gold braided belt around her waist.

Nancy had chosen a sky blue dress with spaghetti straps. She'd pulled her burnished reddish blond hair into a high ponytail.

Bess grabbed a silk flower from an arrangement in the bedroom and twisted it around the band that held Nancy's hair. The effect was perfect.

“Well, I think we look great!” George exclaimed. “Put us on the cover of
Savoir Faire!”

“And guess what, you guys,” Bess said excitedly, “I weighed myself again, and I lost another half a pound—without even working out! Isn't that super?”

“Super,” Nancy repeated, with a broad smile.

The girls made their way downstairs to a glass-enclosed garden room at the far end of the building. The staff had set up tables there for the night. There were flowers at every place setting, and the silverware glistened in the soft light. In the far corner of the room was a large gold cage containing a brightly colored cockatoo.

Most of the two dozen guests were already there. Nancy and the girls watched for Martika but didn't see her.

A maitre d' entered and asked that all the guests be seated. Nancy took a quick inventory of
those present: Kurt, Derek, Helen MacArthur, Mrs. Smythe, Morgana Ricci, Preston Winchell—the whole group from the yacht trip over except for Maura McDaniel. Christina Adams hadn't been invited, of course.

Finally Martika made her entrance, to a polite round of applause. She was radiant, as usual—but Nancy thought there was something different about her.

As Martika took her seat and greeted her guests, a murmur began to spread throughout the room. “That's not Martika!” someone said out loud. Nancy saw that it was true. It wasn't Martika at all. It was—

M
AURA
M
C
D
ANIEL
!” Nancy gasped.

The wallflower from New Zealand had been transformed into a dazzling, dark-haired beauty. Her makeup was perfect, and her hair had been attractively cut and styled. It was almost as if Martika had created a sister for herself.

Now Martika herself entered the room in a dress very much like Maura's and threw her arms around the girl, who stood to greet her. The guests applauded, clearly thrilled by Martika's little ruse. The glowing Maura sat down beside Martika, and the model signaled to the waiters for punch to be served.

“What an incredible job!” George whispered in Nancy's ear. “I can't believe that's the same girl we met on the boat.”

“It's her all right,” Bess said. “I'm going to
try to schedule a make-over with Martika myself.”

On Nancy's right, Helen MacArthur said to Preston Winchell, “I've got to get a photo spread of this. What a sensation it'll make!”

Nancy smiled as the waiters went from table to table, placing individual goblets of fuchsia-colored punch in front of each guest. Then Martika rose to speak.

“I'd just like to say thank you to all my special friends,” she began. “Cloud Nine has been my dream for a long time, and now it's coming true. I'm just so happy that you're here to be a part of it.” She flung her arms open wide. “And I hope I'll be able to say the same thing a year from now, when I open my next resort.”

This remark was greeted with more applause. Raising her punch glass, Martika toasted her guests.

“By the way,” Martika continued, “after dinner tonight there'll be a fireworks display over the beach. I hope you'll all attend. So, without further ado, let's drink to the continued success of Cloud Nine, and to more perfect health for every one of us.”

Everyone joined her. A buzz of conversation rose up from the group, which Martika hushed. “I've got another toast to make,” she announced. “This one's to the man whose generous financing made all this possible. Preston Winchell!”

Winchell got up to acknowledge the applause with a broad, contented smile.

“And I'd also like to thank—” Martika began.

Derek rose from beside her just then. Putting his arm around his sister, he said teasingly, “Enough toasts. Can't we eat dinner? I'm starving.” He turned to the guests and grinned. “She was always a talker—even when we were kids.”

Martika put her hands on her hips in mock anger but let Derek plop her down in her seat, laughing. She leaned over and kissed Maura on the cheek.

Dinner went without a hitch, and Nancy felt a sense of relief when Nadine entered and escorted Martika from the room. Secure in the knowledge that the bodyguard would keep an eye on Martika, Nancy headed up to her suite to get a sweater, and then went back outside to the patio for the fireworks.

The area was so full of people that Nancy had trouble finding anyone she knew. The night was hazy, and a stiff, cool breeze was blowing.

Nancy saw Preston Winchell talking with Maura McDaniel and went over to them. “Hello, Maura,” she said. “Congratulations. I guess everyone's been telling you how fabulous you look.”

Maura blushed, and Preston Winchell answered for her. “I was just telling her that myself.”

At that moment Christina Adams appeared at Winchell's side and slipped her arm through his. “Preston, darling,” she cooed, nuzzling up to him. “I've been looking for you everywhere! Come with me—I want to introduce you to some friends of mine.” Before Winchell could object, she dragged him away, leaving Maura and Nancy behind.

“What an operator!” Nancy said, shaking her head.

“I think she's horrid,” Maura said. “The way she gossips about this place, and after Martika let her stay here when her boat broke down.”

“Well, I don't think she'll change Preston Winchell's mind about supporting Martika,” Nancy said reassuringly. “He seems pretty thrilled with the way things are going.”

“So am I,” Maura said happily. “Do you really like my new look?”

“It's fantastic,” Nancy said sincerely.

“You don't think I look too much like her?” Maura asked nervously.

“You mean Martika?” Nancy said. “Well, no, not really. There is a resemblance, but I notice she did your hair a little differently, and the eye makeup is less severe.” In truth, Nancy was reaching for differences. In the dark and at a distance, anyone could mistake the New Zealander for Martika.

“You won't believe how many people have noticed me tonight,” Maura said with a happy giggle. “Oh, Nancy, I feel like my life is just beginning.”

“I'm thrilled for you, Maura. You deserve to be happy,” Nancy replied.

“Thank you,” Maura said quietly. “You know, my father left me a lot of money when he died. My lawyer keeps telling me I should make a will, but it seemed so futile. I've got no one to leave anything to. Now that I'm beautiful, though, maybe I'll get married someday.”

“Maybe you will,” Nancy told her.

“It's just that I've always been so shy,” the young woman went on.

“Maura!” The two of them turned around and saw Martika approaching, followed by Nadine. “There you are, dear,” she said. “Aren't you cold in that off-the-shoulder dress? Here, take my wrap.” Martika lifted the gold lamé shawl off her own shoulders and tucked it around Maura.

“Oh, no, I couldn't, Martika—what'll you wear?” Maura asked.