Model Suspect

by Carolyn Keene

  George had merely smirked and kicked her duffel bag away from the pile of luggage the resort staff had left in the center of the main room, aiming it in the direction of the bedroom door. “You should be nicer to me, cousin dearest. Coral cuts can be deadly, you know. In fact, the guys at the med hut were telling me there’s all kinds of ways to get injured or killed around this part of the Caribbean. Coral, sharks, snakes, jellyfish, scorpions, puffer fish, lionfish, eels, even some kind of weird dangerous algae …”

  I managed to get them back on track, and we quickly stowed our stuff in our respective rooms, changed into dry clothes, and then went out to the bungalow’s small front porch to discuss things. There were three deck chairs out there that offered a great view of the lagoon. They also offered a pretty close-up view of the bungalows on either side of ours. Only about ten yards of water separated each of their porches from ours.

  “Are you sure it’s safe to talk out here?” Bess asked, casting an anxious glance at one of the neighboring bungalows.

  George shrugged and followed her gaze. “They’re not that close. We’ll just keep our voices down. Besides, it doesn’t look like anybody’s home.”

  “I hope not.” Bess still looked worried. “Sound carries over water, remember.”

  “Well, it’s not like we’ll be much safer inside,” I pointed out. “The hut’s walls seem pretty thin.” I shrugged. “Anyway, George is probably right. The show rented out this entire resort, remember? The crew is probably all out doing their thing, and we know where Syd and Vic and their friends are.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Bess glanced at me. “So what do you think of the case so far, Nancy? Do you really think MrSilhouette is on the loose here somewhere?”

  “It sure seems like it, doesn’t it?” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, gazing down at the tiny waves lapping against the pilings of the walkway. “But we shouldn’t rule out other possibilities, either. Candy faked that ‘gift’ from MrSilhouette before, remember?”

  “You mean you think someone might’ve faked that photo of him too?” George said. “But who?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Any of our list of suspects could be behind it, I guess. There’s Butch, for one….”

  “Unless he’s MrSilhouette himself,” Bess put in.

  I nodded. “Right. But anyway, that photo isn’t that clear. What if someone brought one of those fake bald head cover thingies like they use on TV? Or even snagged one of the mannequins from the shops here at the resort—I’m pretty sure most of those probably have bald heads so the window dressers can put different wigs on them when they change out the displays.”

  “Good point.” Bess looked impressed and thoughtful. “But I still can’t figure out who would want to make Syd’s life miserable like this. Other than her stalker, I mean—I get that motive. He wouldn’t want her to be happy with anyone other than him.”

  “Well, what about Akinyi and Jamal?” I kicked at a knot in the porch floor. “We thought they were cleared when Pandora pulled that knife, but …”

  Bess gasped. “Oh, wow! I hadn’t even thought of that!” she exclaimed. “You mean you think they might have been behind the trouble after all?”

  “Not necessarily.” I bit my lip, remembering with some discomfort how upset and disappointed the pair had been about missing the wedding, and their touching reunion with Sydney and Vic at the reception after being released by the police. “But we don’t want to rule anything out, either.”

  “Hang on—but Jamal couldn’t have been the one who shot at us,” George pointed out. “He was on the beach with Vic the whole time, remember?”

  “Oh!” Bess’s eyes widened. “But Akinyi was nowhere in sight. And there was mud all over her cute Louboutins, remember?”

  “Her what?” George blinked in confusion.

  “The sandals,” I said grimly. “She even said she’d been for a walk in the jungle. And she definitely didn’t want to let us in when we first got there—almost like she needed time to hide something first.”

  “Something like a gun?” Now George looked alarmed. “Whoa.”

  “And she and Jamal arrived on the island earlier than everyone else,” I reminded my friends. “So that would’ve given them plenty of time if they were the ones who ransacked Syd and Vic’s cabin….”

  “Oh! That reminds me.” George sat up straight. “While I was at the med hut, I was chatting with the guys there like I said—”

  “Right,” Bess broke in dryly. “The Wild Wilds of Dangerous Nature gang.”

  George ignored her. “—and they told me which bungalow it was. The one that got ransacked, I mean. Apparently there are three honeymoon huts here, and after what happened, the resort moved Syd and Vic to a brand-new one right away.”

  “Really?” Now I was the one who sat bolt upright. “Did they say if the vandalized one had been cleaned up yet?”

  “They said it was, just as soon as the local police finished up there yesterday,” George said. “But you never know….”

  I was already jumping to my feet. “Do you think you can find it?”

  “Definitely.” George stood up too, as did Bess. “Come on, let’s go take a look.”

  Soon we were creeping cautiously along the wooden walkways once more. It wasn’t easy to stay inconspicuous. As I said, the walkways crisscross over the shallows of the lagoon, leading in a sort of meandering maze from one bungalow to another. In between, they’re pretty much open to full view from every direction. Still, we did our best to hurry along those sections and keep a lookout for anyone who might be glancing our way.

  Finally we reached the bungalow in question. It was made of palm thatch and bamboo like all the rest, but was larger and fancier, with a silky two-person hammock strung on the flower-draped porch.

  “Think you can pick the lock?” I whispered to Bess.

  She nodded with confidence. Bess might look like a helpless girly-girl on the outside, but she’s anything but. She’s got a natural talent for fixing things, from cars to toasters and everything in between. Picking a lock is usually a piece of cake for her.

  “See anyone?” she muttered, sidling toward the front door. “It might take me a minute here, since they use those computerized key cards….”

  She reached for the door, automatically testing the knob. To all of our surprise, the door immediately swung open.

  “Wow,” George said with a slight smirk. “You’re even better than I thought.”

  “Come on,” I murmured, already darting through the door.

  The window shades were all down, making the interior of the honeymoon bungalow dim and shadowy. Even so, it was immediately obvious that the place had already been straightened up just as the employees had told George.

  “Looks like they did a good job,” George said, glancing around the spotless sitting room. “Figures. A place like this doesn’t mess around.”

  Bess had wandered farther into the room. “As long as we’re here, I want to see what the honeymoon suite is—Hey! What’s that?”

  Taking note of the curious tone in her voice, I hurried over to join her in the bedroom doorway. The bedroom was just as luxurious and spotless as the outer room. The only thing that seemed out of place was a sheet of paper lying on the bedspread.

  George was peering over our shoulders by now. “What’s the big deal?” she said. “Probably just a welcome note for the next set of honeymooners.”

  “Maybe.” But I doubted it. My heart was thumping. I have a sort of sixth sense about things sometimes—George likes to call it my hunch-o-meter. And it was going off now.

  I walked over and pushed aside the mosquito netting surrounding the bed. My eyes widened as soon as I got a clearer look at the paper.

  “It’s not a welcome note,” I said grimly, picking it up. “At least not the kind you meant.”

  It was an ordinary sheet of white paper. Someone had used a black marker to draw a bulbous shape that took up more than half the sheet. Written below th
e drawing in a rough scrawl were the words: MrS SEES & HEARS ALL.

  “Whoa!” George let out a low whistle as she took a look. “MrSilhouette strikes again!”

  “Looks that way.” I stared at the paper.

  Bess looked alarmed. “Is that drawing supposed to be his bald head?”

  “Must be,” George said. “But why’d he leave the message here? Syd and Vic aren’t even coming back to this room.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t know that,” I suggested. “In which case, maybe he doesn’t see and hear quite as much as he thinks.”

  “But if he’s here at the resort, wouldn’t he have to know they’re in another cabin?” Bess pointed out. “Especially if he’s disguised as, like, a member of the crew or if it’s Akinyi and Jamal….”

  “Good question.” I frowned down at the paper, trying to puzzle out exactly what this meant. “Could he be hiding somewhere else on the island? Or maybe even doing things remotely from back in the U.S., maybe paying off locals to wreck the room and do the other stuff, or—”

  Bess was nodding with interest, but George had turned away, not seeming to be paying attention. “Hey,” she broke in, sniffing at the air. “Does anyone else smell smoke?”

  I hadn’t until that moment. But now that she mentioned it, I did. “Is that coming from outside?” I asked.

  Bess reached the bedroom doorway in two strides. Peering out into the main room, she gasped. “No!” she cried. “This place is on fire!“

  BURNING QUESTIONS

  George and I raced over and saw that she was right. Fingers of flame were licking at the fabric shades on a couple of the windows, and the sofa and one of the wicker chairs were already fully engulfed. “Hurry!” I yelled, coughing from the thickening smoke. “Let’s get out of here!”

  Bess led the way to the door. It was closed. When she yanked on it, it didn’t budge.

  “It’s locked!” she cried.

  “It can’t be. Let me try.” George pushed past her and grabbed the knob, pushing and pulling at it desperately. “No way! Now what?”

  I was already scanning around. The fire was growing with every passing second—we didn’t have much time to find a way out. As soon as the flames reached the dry thatched roof, the whole place would become a deadly fireball.

  “Check the windows!” I choked out, doing my best to cover my nose and mouth with the neck of my T-shirt.

  I ran over to the closest one that wasn’t aflame. Scrabbling past the shade, I found a metal screen attached firmly to the sturdy wooden frame. My first attempt to punch through it left me with nothing but scraped knuckles to show for it. Holding my breath, I leaned forward to try to see if there was an easy way to unlatch it. My heart sank as I saw that it appeared to be bolted firmly in place with several large screws.

  “Over here!” Bess called.

  I turned and squinted through the hazy smoke inside the cabin. She was just tucking something into the pocket of her shorts. A second later, coughing nonstop, she hoisted herself onto the windowsill and kicked out the screen.

  George and I raced over. “Go! Go!” George shouted.

  Bess didn’t need to be told twice. She flung herself out through the window, and a second later I heard a splash from somewhere below. George was already climbing over the sill, and as soon as she jumped, it was my turn.

  I swung my leg out the window and glanced around. The walkway outside the bungalow was already on fire, and I heard the faint sounds of shouts from somewhere off in the distance, telling me that someone had noticed the smoke. But there was no time to think about that—I could feel the heat on my back as I glanced down at the lagoon below. My friends had already moved aside, wading through the chest-high water toward shore.

  “Seems like I’m spending an awful lot of time in this darn lagoon, considering I haven’t even had a chance to unpack my bathing suit yet,” I muttered. Then, taking a deep breath, I launched myself through the window.

  “Butch!” Madge howled. “What are you doing? Get closer! We’re going to want as much footage as we can get of this!” She stabbed one manicured finger toward someone. “You!” she barked. “Get those three looking camera-ready. What are you waiting for?”

  I closed my eyes as Lainie, the makeup girl, hurried over, makeup brush in hand. My head was spinning after all that had happened; I hadn’t had a moment to process things since splashing down in the lagoon. Thanks to Bess and the tiny multi-tool on the key ring hanging from her wallet, we’d escaped through that window just in the nick of time. Even as the three of us were wading toward the small crowd waiting for us on the beach, the roof had gone up with a loud WHOOOMP, raining sparks over us.

  Now, nearly half an hour later, the fire was out—thanks to its position over the lagoon, the employees had been able to get things under control well before the local fire brigade had arrived to finish the job. The firefighters were currently stomping around through the shallow water checking for stray sparks or whatever, while most of the staff of the resort was gathered on the beach nearby watching. The honeymoon bungalow was nothing but a pile of ashes, and several sections of the walkway nearby had been destroyed as well. But the fire hadn’t spread to any of the other structures, and for that, the resort manager appeared to be grateful.

  However, one person was acting anything but grateful. Madge seemed to take it as a personal affront that the cameras hadn’t been there to capture the dramatic moment when the bungalow had gone up in flames. She was making up for it now, ordering the entire camera team around without seeming to pause for breath.

  “Chill, dude,” Bo told the assistant director as she started haranguing one of the sound people for something or other. “You already missed the fun stuff. So what’s the hurry?”

  I cracked one eye open just in time to see Madge glare at him. “Do you want to take over?” she snapped. “Because my job’s not as easy as you all seem to think.”

  Bo rolled his eyes and glanced over at Jamal and Akinyi, who had also turned up to watch. They both shrugged, seeming disinclined to get involved.

  I kept my one open eye trained on the couple. How quickly had they turned up at the scene of the fire? I wasn’t sure, but I knew they’d arrived before Madge and the crew. Did that mean something? I wasn’t sure.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” I opened my other eye as I felt Lainie begin to apply something thick and dusty to my forehead.

  “Sorry. Madge’s orders.” Lainie held up a makeup brush with black powder flaking off it. “She wants to make sure you guys look really dramatic, so she ordered me to add some sooty smudges to your face.” Shooting a slightly nervous look over her shoulder, she added, “And it’s never a good idea to ignore Madge’s orders, if you know what I mean.”

  “Maybe you’re scared of her, but I’m not.” Brushing aside the makeup brush, I took a step toward Madge. “Look, I think that’s enough of the filming, okay?” I said loudly, putting up my hand to block the lens of the closest camera. “My friends and I just want to get back to our bungalow and clean ourselves up.”

  “Nancy’s right,” George agreed, shooing away another makeup artist. “We’re out of here.”

  “What are you talking about?” Madge scowled at both of us. “You signed the releases. And this is a reality show—we’re just filming what happened.”

  “Oh, really?” Bess spoke up. “So it’s reality when you want me to rip a sleeve off my favorite shirt just because you say it’ll make good TV?”

  Madge just sputtered for a moment, looking even more irate than usual. “Cut!” she spat out at last, spinning toward the cameras and making a choppy slashing movement across her own throat with one thin hand. “Turn them off!”

  “That’s more like—” I began, ready to appease her a bit if necessary.

  Before I could finish, she spun back around to face me and my friends, her eyes all but shooting sparks. “That’s enough!” she hissed. “I should have known you three were only here to cause trouble. What’s your angle?
Let me guess—you’re actually plants from Winners and Losers, right?”

  “Huh?” I goggled at her, taken aback.

  “Winners and Losers is another reality show,” George said with a frown. “It’s Daredevils’s biggest ratings rival, actually.”

  “That’s right.” Madge crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “And if you think you’re going to sabotage this production, you’ve got another thing coming! I had enough of that back on the mainland, and now that I’m in charge, I’m going to make sure you don’t cause any more trouble, do you hear me?”

  Wait—so Madge thought we were the saboteurs? I was so stunned I could barely react.

  “Madge!” Donald rushed up at that moment, breathless and red-faced. “There you are!” He stopped short, taking in the sight of the burned bungalow. “Hey, what happened?”

  “What do you want?” Madge snapped, rounding on him with a glare. “Can’t you see I’m busy here?”

  Donald took a half step backward. “S-sorry,” he stammered. “You told me to let you know if Vic or Sydney turned up, and I wanted to let you know I just spotted Vic heading toward the snack bar.”

  Madge was silent for a second, glowering at him, then at us. Finally she shrugged. “Fine,” she snapped out. “Come on, guys. Let’s go film Vic eating his cheeseburger or whatever. Might be boring, but I’m not about to give Winners and Losers any more free publicity for their sick little game.”

  With one last snarl in our general direction, she stalked off. The camera operators exchanged glances and shrugs, then followed. Donald shot one last confused look at the charred remains of the honeymoon bungalow and trailed after them.

  “Whew!” George breathed out, shaking her head slowly as she watched them all disappear. “That was … interesting.”

  “Yeah.” I drifted a few steps in the direction Madge and Co. had gone, my mind churning. Could the assistant director really think my friends and I were the saboteurs? Or was this some kind of ruse, a distraction to keep us from suspecting her?