058 Hot Pursuit

by Carolyn Keene

  George stared wide-eyed at her. "Saw who?" she asked.

  "The Cordero brothers," Nancy answered.

  "Remember how I thought they looked familiar?" When George nodded, she explained, "They resembled the guys I saw coming out of that hut the other night, the one with no windows. I wasn't very close, but I did get a glimpse of their faces."

  George still looked skeptical. "Even if it was them, what does that explain?"

  "I'm not sure," Nancy said with a sigh. "Anyway, they're gone now. It looks as though my mystery's over before it began." She turned to head for an exit. "It doesn't look as if the Hot Rods will play again tonight. I'm going back to the room to read for a while."

  George started tapping her foot to the recorded music. "Okay. Why don't we go to the Jacuzzi later, say around ten?"

  "Great idea."

  Nancy returned to her room and opened her book but couldn't get past page five. Somehow, she kept on thinking about the Corderos. Had she just imagined that it was them coming out of that little hut? Maybe . . . No, her instincts told her it had been the Corderos.

  By nine-thirty she still was on page five. After changing into her suit and grabbing her tote bag, she left a note telling George to meet her. Then Nancy left the room and started down the path to the Jacuzzi. It was just a five-minute walk, but there was a stop she wanted to make on the way.

  It was time to check out the windowless hut that she'd seen from her balcony and the terrace.

  When she got to the hut, she saw that it had been built right against the mound of rock at the edge of the cliff. The sign on the door read, Maintenance—Employees Only.

  Nancy scanned the area to make sure no one was coming before she knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she reached for the knob and the door swung open to her touch. It was pitch-black inside. Fumbling in the dark, she found a small lamp and switched it on before shutting the door behind her.

  The room was eerie in the shadowed light. The lamp she'd found was on a desk. There was also another desk and lamp, half a dozen bulky, odd-shaped items covered with tarps, and a small collection of hand tools hung on one wall.

  Nancy lifted the tarp in the center of the room. Under it she found a white screen that a photographer could use as a backdrop, and a Polaroid camera with a flash. She wondered what purpose this equipment served at a resort like Pineapple Grove. Maybe it was where employees were photographed for file records or ID cards?

  Checking under another tarp, Nancy discovered two file cabinets. All six drawers were locked. She was lifting another cloth when she heard the metallic sound of a doorknob turning.

  Nancy froze. She glanced furtively around the shadowed room, but knew there was no time to hide. She barely had time to flip the tarp back over the files before the door swung open. Nancy held her breath as a tall man filled the doorway. Nancy saw him straighten as he noticed her.

  When he spoke, his voice was a menacing growl. "What do you think you're doing in here?"

  Chapter Six

  THE MAN was blocking her only way out of the room. Nancy took in his dark features and realized with a start that it was Vincent, who had piloted the glass-bottomed boat the day before. He'd been so easygoing and helpful on the boat ride—nothing like the cold, threatening person glaring down at her now.

  When Nancy didn't answer his question immediately, he asked, "How did you get in here?"

  "The door wasn't locked," she said uneasily. His probing stare made her uncomfortable, and her gaze drifted down to his hands, which were balled into tight fists.

  Vincent shoved a hand into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a round key ring. Nancy wondered if he had forgotten to lock the door and had returned to take care of it. That would explain why the door had been unlocked.

  But at the moment Nancy had more important things to figure out—such as how to get out of there! It was time to play the bumbling guest and hope that he fell for it.

  "Is this your office?" she asked innocently, fumbling in her tote bag. "I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere on my way to the Jacuzzi. Where is that map? I always get lost without it. This place has such a maze of buildings—"

  "And you thought you would find the Jacuzzi in here?" Vincent snapped.

  "No, I was just looking for someone to steer me in the right direction," Nancy answered quickly. "I saw my friends here the other night— Juan and Ed Cordero. Do you know them?"

  Vincent shook his head, still watching her, but she thought she noticed a flicker of surprise in his dark eyes.

  "Well, anyway"—she started edging toward the door—"I thought I might find them here again."

  "You must be mistaken," Vincent grumbled. "This hut is used to store lawn mowers and tools."

  Nancy sensed that he was hiding something, but she wasn't about to confront him at night in an isolated place.

  As if he had read her mind, Vincent folded his arms and said in a low voice, "A pretty girl could

  get hurt around heavy equipment like this. That's why the sign says employees only."

  Was that meant to be a threat or merely a warning for her own good? "I'll be more careful in the future," she assured him. With a hurried apology, she slipped past him and rushed down the path to the Jacuzzi.

  "So, you were trapped with Vincent?" George asked after she joined Nancy and Bess in the hot tub, and Nancy told them about her encounter.

  "I thought that guy was creepy when he told us those stories about the islands," Bess said, shivering despite the warmth of the water in the Jacuzzi. "What were they called again?"

  "The Devil's Chain." Nancy sank deeper into the hot tub so that the bubbling water covered her shoulders. "Anyway, I got the feeling he was trying to hide something. He definitely wasn't happy to see me there. I just wish I'd had a chance to see what was under all the other tarps."

  "What were you expecting to find, Nan?" George asked, pushing her wet, short hair off her face.

  "I don't know exactly, but I'd be willing to bet that that fancy camera equipment isn't used for maintenance. The camera must have been used last night, because I noticed quick flashes of light coming from under the door."

  "Maybe Vincent is hiding his camera from the boss," Bess suggested, giggling. "Gibbs is so camera shy that he'd probably fire Vincent if he saw him holding a roll of film."

  Nancy started to laugh at the joke, but then stopped and said, "That's it. Cameras. A lot of the weird events at Pineapple Grove seem to involve cameras."

  "Snap out of it, Nan!" Bess said, giving her a light splash. "What are you talking about?"

  Nancy studied her friends seriously. "I think something is going on. I don't know what it is, but cameras seem to be a part of the mystery. First Eva's father wouldn't let us take her picture. Then Gibbs wouldn't let his guests appear on film. Then I find a hidden camera in the maintenance shed."

  "But how could all these things be connected?" George asked, shooting Nancy a quizzical look.

  "I'm not sure," Nancy replied. "But I think it may be worth investigating."

  George lifted her hand out of the water and studied it. "We'd better get out soon, before we turn into prunes," she suggested, reaching for a towel.

  The girls were on their way back to their room when they heard loud voices in a garden the path passed through.

  "We've been through this a million times before," they heard a female voice insisting.

  "You shouldn't be here," a man snapped. "Aren't you satisfied with the damage you've already done?"

  Nancy recognized Courtney's and Woody's voices. Peering over a leafy hedge, she saw the couple sitting on the edge of an illuminated fountain.

  "What damage?" Courtney scoffed. "I never did anything to hurt you."

  "Oh, come on, Court. How do you think I feel when I see you with that guy?"

  Courtney sounded weary as she replied, "I told you, Steve and I are just friends. I'm here to do a job. Woody. Do you really think I'd come here just to make you jealous?"
/>   He hesitated, then turned away and covered his face with his hands. "I don't know what to think anymore."

  "That's always been your problem," said Courtney. "You listen to your friends, to your agent, to the guys in the band. You let them dictate everything to you. When we started dating, you even had me cleared with the band. You never trusted me. Woody," she said, her voice trembling. "You never even gave me a chance!"

  "Wow," Bess whispered. "She's really upset."

  "Maybe we should just disappear," George mouthed.

  Nancy nodded. The girls started down a path, but a moment later they realized it just doubled back to the fountain. This time they had a close-up view of the unhappy couple.

  Woody raked his hands through his red hair. "Listen, Court," he was saying, "I'm not here to rehash all our old arguments. I just want to give you a piece of friendly advice. Steer clear of Steven Gibbs."

  His voice rose on a new wave of anger. "If you get involved with that guy, I guarantee he'll cause you nothing but trouble."

  Chapter Seven

  NANCY, Bess, and George exchanged a look of surprise. Holding a finger to her lips, Nancy went back down the path, away from the couple, and managed to cut through to another path that led to the main lobby.

  "Wow," said Bess as they made their way back to the room. "What do you think Woody meant?"

  "About Gibbs?" Nancy asked, shaking her head. "I'm not sure, but I know one person who does. Steven Gibbs. Ricky was mad at Gibbs about something at the party for the Hot Rods. And now Woody's warning Courtney away from him, too. I'm beginning to wonder if his involvement with the band goes deeper than they're letting on."

  Nancy snapped her fingers as she thought of something new. "Maybe Gibbs knows something about why Eva and the Corderos left suddenly, too. After all, he is the resort's owner, and he seems to keep track of everything that goes on."

  Bess looked puzzled. "But he seems so charming and helpful. Just because he got mad about a camera doesn't make him a bad guy."

  "That's true," Nancy agreed. "But I'm still going to talk to him."

  The next morning, after a quick breakfast, Nancy went to Gibbs's office on the second floor of the dome-shaped central building. His secretary, an attractive black woman who looked as if she was in her forties, told Nancy that he was in a meeting but that she could wait if she wanted.

  Nancy sank into a salmon-colored leather sofa across from the receptionist and began leafing through a magazine. She was just finishing an article when the door to Gibbs's office flew open and Ricky Angeles stormed across the reception area, his face flushed red. He passed only inches from Nancy, but he was so angry, he didn't even notice her sitting on the couch as he left.

  Her brow furrowed, Nancy was wondering if his anger had anything to do with his fight with Gibbs at the party for the Hot Rods. But her thoughts were interrupted by the secretary's voice.

  "Mr. Gibbs will see you now." Nancy looked up to see the secretary gesturing for her to go into Gibbs's office. Two walls were glass and overlooked the gardens and beach of the resort. The floor was covered with thick, cream-colored carpeting.

  "Good morning, Nancy." Gibbs greeted her with a warm grin from behind a large mahogany desk. "Are you and your friends enjoying yourselves here at Pineapple Grove?"

  "Yes, everything's terrific, and we were really thrilled to meet the Hot Rods. In fact, they're the reason I'm here. I want to ask you a few questions about them."

  "Questions?" Gibbs closed a folder that had been open on his desk and clasped his hands. "Don't tell me you've stumbled upon a case here at my resort."

  Nancy wasn't sure what to answer. She was curious about the Corderos and Eva, and she did think something weird was going on at that maintenance hut, but she didn't exactly have enough evidence to call it an ofiicial case.

  "Not exactly," she told him. "I was just amazed at our good luck to be here while the Hot Rods are filming their video. How did you happen to meet them?"

  "Between you and me, I never met them until they arrived here, the day before yesterday," Gibbs admitted. "The entire deal was worked out with their agent, Rachel Meredith. I met her a few months ago in New York City. The band was scouting for a warm, picturesque place to shoot, and I was looking for advertising. When I realized that we'd have instant publicity if their rock video was filmed here, Rachel and I made the deal."

  He seemed sincere, but Nancy couldn't help wondering if Gibbs was telling her the whole truth. If he had just met the Hot Rods, what caused the friction between him and Ricky Angeles?

  Before she could ask him about it, Steve Gibbs continued in a wistful voice. "At the time it seemed like a match made in heaven."

  Nancy noticed that his smile had faded, so she asked him, "Do you regret making the offer?"

  "I wouldn't say that I regret it," he hedged. "The Hot Rods are welcome here, but my top priority is my guests. I can't let a bunch of rock musicians destroy their privacy."

  "You mean the way their cameraman filmed the crowd last night?" Nancy asked. As far as she was concerned, Gibbs had definitely overreacted, but maybe he did have a point.

  Gibbs's blue eyes were serious as he leaned across his desk. "I feel terrible about what happened last night because I hate playing the heavy. But there were people in that room who cannot appear on a nationally distributed tape. I have to protect the anonymity of our guests."

  Nancy couldn't remember seeing any celebrities, and her curiosity made her ask, "Was there anyone in particular you were concerned about?"

  Gibbs paused before responding to her question. "Let's just say that there are . . . well-known people vacationing here. Sons of movie stars, diplomats' daughters. I can't let anyone violate their right to privacy—not here at Pineapple Grove."

  "I understand." Nancy nodded. "I guess success has its price. Your resort attracts the rich and famous, but they do need extra protection."

  "Exactly." He flashed her a warm smile. "Any more questions. Madam Detective?"

  "Just one. We met a teenage girl two days ago—a girl named Eva Rivera. She and her father left quite suddenly, and my friends and I were concerned. Do you know what happened to her?"

  "Rivera ..." He tapped his chin with his forefinger. "Oh, yes, I do remember now. I spoke with her father before they left. A family member had suddenly become ill. They had to cut their stay short to return home."

  Nancy nodded. "That was too bad. What about Ed and Juan Cordero? They're brothers; they were from the Dominican Republic. They also disappeared abruptly."

  "Disappeared?" Gibbs chuckled. "You make it sound so mysterious. The truth is, guests come and go every day. Still, I don't recall hearing anything about those particular guests."

  After Nancy thanked him for answering her questions, she walked back to the room. She had to admit to herself that Gibbs's explanations made sense—but he hadn't explained everything, such as the argument he'd had with Ricky. Also, his style was so polished and professional, she guessed he could be putting on an act.

  Letting out a sigh, Nancy realized that she hadn't really gotten anywhere. Her next step, she decided, would be to approach Ricky and Woody and talk to them about their suspicions of or involvement with the resort owner.

  Back in the room, George was pulling a bright pink painter's cap over her dark curls. "There's a bike trip leaving in twenty minutes, and the Hot Rods are going along, so the cameras can get some footage of them in the countryside. Interested?"

  "Sure!" Nancy said, reaching into a drawer for a pair of shorts. "I planned to go on one of those trips. The view from up in the hills is supposed to be amazing—and it'll give me a chance to spend some time with the guys in the band, too."

  As Nancy pulled on her bicycle shorts, she told George about her conversation with Gibbs, and about the questions she still had about the Hot Rods' involvement with him. Pulling her hair high into a ponytail, she asked, "Where's Bess?"

  "Off shopping with Courtney. Not even her love for the Hot Rods coul
d get Bess on a bicycle," George said, grinning.

  When Nancy was ready, the two girls went down through the lobby to join the other bikers, who were assembling on the circular drive outside. Two staff members were leading the trip—a jovial, burly man who introduced himself as Daniel and was handing out water bottles and helmets, and Vincent, who was in charge of assigning ten-speeds to the riders.

  When Nancy got to the front of the bike line, she saw the spark of recognition in Vincent's eyes. He didn't say anything as he sized her up and handed her a bike.

  Nancy gripped the handlebars and hopped onto the bike. She watched as Vincent chose bikes for George, Ricky, and Woody.

  "Let's roll!" Woody said, pedaling backward on his bike.

  Tucker pulled a helmet over his unruly blond hair, then flicked a thumb toward Woody, mumbling, "What a clown."

  "I hope you guys are ready for a real workout," George said with a Laugh. "I hear that the first half of the trip is uphill."

  They all rolled their bikes into line as Daniel instructed the riders on the route. The first leg of the trip required steady exertion. Fortunately, the exercise would be offset by the gorgeous view. Tropical green forest rose steeply on one side, and the turquoise Caribbean sparkled below the rocky cliff on the other.

  After winding steadily uphill for about half an hour, Nancy came around a curve to see Woody standing beside his bike at the edge of the road, looking out over a small cove that shimmered in the morning sun.

  "It seems like there's a bay hidden around every bend in the road," she commented breathlessly, pulling up next to him.

  "Yeah," Woody agreed. "Practically every inch of this place looks like it belongs on a postcard. It could be very romantic," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. "You know what I mean?"

  Nancy laughed. She was flattered by Woody's attention, but she didn't want him to get the wrong idea. "It is romantic. I only wish my boyfriend were here to enjoy it."

  "Uh-oh, I know that look. I can tell you're crazy about this guy. Why didn't he come along?"