Model Suspect

by Carolyn Keene

  “Oh, my gosh,” Sydney was in tears. She’d pushed her chair back as far as it would go without crashing into the wall behind her, and had both hands over her mouth. “Oh, my gosh!”

  Vic seemed kind of stunned too. “I just cut into my steak, and those things started pouring out!” he exclaimed.

  I averted my eyes from the maggots, not wanting to get distracted by my own churning stomach. There was no doubt about it. MrSilhouette had struck again.

  “Where did this steak come from?” I asked the waitress, who was cowering back against the wall.

  She blinked at me so blankly that for a moment I feared she might not speak English. But finally she answered.

  “Um, the kitchen?” she said. “At least I guess it did—I didn’t bring it. I was here setting up the dishes and stuff. One of the glasses had some dust in it, and when I came out of the bathroom from rinsing it off, the tray with the rest of the food was here. So I just went ahead and set it up.”

  “Come on.” I glanced at my friends. “Let’s go talk to the cook.”

  Jamal and Bo had arrived by then. Leaving them to comfort Sydney and Vic, we hurried back out the door.

  “Is she okay?” Donald asked as soon as we emerged onto the porch. “Sydney, I mean.”

  “She’ll survive,” George said, pushing past him.

  The three of us hurried down the walkways and back into the resort’s central area. By asking a passing employee, we found our way to the main kitchen, which was located in a separate building just across from the dining room. When we got there, we tracked down the head chef, a stout man with a strong Jamaican accent. He seemed genuinely shocked when he heard about what had happened.

  “No!” he cried in dismay. “But I cooked that steak myself—medium rare, just as Mr. Valdez requested!”

  “He did?” I said. “You mean Vic ordered that lunch from you personally?”

  The chef shook his head. “No, not personally. I got the order from the front office.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Then who took it out to the bungalow? The waitress who was there said she didn’t know who brought it over.”

  “I don’t know either.” The chef looked sheepish. “I was about to call in Kara from the dining room to deliver it. But that infernally annoying director woman came in and started complaining about her coffee being cold just as I finished loading the tray.” He frowned. “By the time I turned around again, the tray was gone. I suppose I assumed either Kara had come along and grabbed it, or Louisa had returned from the honeymoon hut to pick it up.”

  “Thanks,” I said thoughtfully. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  My friends followed as I left the kitchen. “Is that all you’re going to ask him?” George demanded, hurrying to catch up. “Don’t you think that guy could be a suspect?”

  “Not really.” I shrugged. “Why would he plant maggots in his own food? It would only get him fired, plus there’s no way someone like that could’ve been responsible for the stuff that happened back in River Heights. But it is kind of suspicious that Madge turned up right at that moment. Just because Lainie didn’t turn out to be MrSilhouette, it doesn’t necessarily mean we were wrong about it being a woman.”

  Bess looked intrigued. “So should we go find Madge?” She shuddered. “I have to admit, I’m not looking forward to questioning her.”

  “I know what you mean.” I squared my shoulders. “But somebody has to do the dirty work.”

  We set out in search of the assistant director. But we’d barely made it ten steps away from the kitchen when I heard a commotion behind us. Turning, I saw Bo, Jamal, and Akinyi hurrying along the path toward the dining room.

  Bo spotted us first. “Hey! Come on to lunch, you guys.” He grabbed me by the arm. “We want everyone there to cheer up Vic and Syd.”

  Jamal nodded and shuddered. “You know, because of what just happened.”

  “Yes, please come,” Akinyi added. “We can’t let this ruin their honeymoon!”

  I wanted to protest, but they didn’t give me the chance. Bess, George, and I were swept along as they rushed on toward the dining room.

  “Oh, well,” Bess murmured as we all took our seats around one of the big tables. “Maybe they’re right. Syd can probably use all the moral support she can get right now.”

  “She could use an answer to this case a lot more,” I muttered back. Still, I supposed Bess had a point. Besides, maybe I could use this opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. “Hey, Jamal,” I said, putting on a jovial, joking tone as I turned to Vic’s friend, who was sitting directly across from me. “I’m surprised you even want to cheer up Vic at this point. He said he totally killed you at poker.”

  “He did?” Jamal sounded confused. “When was that? Because Vic and I haven’t—”

  “Go on, Jamal,” Akinyi broke in, giving Jamal an elbow to the ribs and a pointed look. “Just man up and admit it, all right? Vic took you to school in poker today.”

  Jamal blinked. “Oh!” he said. “Um, that’s right. Sorry, guess I’m just a little sensitive about losing all that money, you know? Why can’t a dude with a big-shot TV career ahead of him cut me a break and let me win?” He chuckled, though I couldn’t help noticing it sounded a little forced.

  “Yeah!” Bo put in loudly. “I know what you mean. Vic took all my dough too. Let’s make him throw us a big beach party tonight to make up for it. What do you say?”

  “So if you guys were playing poker all morning, what was with the tennis rackets?” I asked, still trying to sound casual. “I saw you two with them when you came running after Sydney screamed.”

  Jamal and Bo traded a look. “Oh, that,” Bo said with a shrug. “Yeah, we were going to try to get a few sets in before lunch. We were just heading for the courts when we heard Syd, so we turned around and came back.”

  He sounded pretty sincere. But I wasn’t sure I believed him. Vic had been rushing and out of breath when he’d arrived to apologize to Sydney. Would Jamal and Bo really have had time to get their rackets and head over to the tennis courts in the same amount of time it had taken him to race to find her? My hunch-o-meter was telling me they were lying—that there hadn’t been any poker game that morning at all. But if so, why were they covering for Vic? Was it just a loyalty thing, an automatic benefit of male friendship? Or was something else going on that they were all in on together?

  “Vic, my man!” Bo shouted at that moment, breaking me out of my thoughts. “There’s the happy couple. Come on over.”

  Looking up, I saw that Vic had just entered with Sydney clinging to his arm. The two of them headed toward us, and after that I threw myself into cheering them up along with everyone else.

  Even so, a little part of my mind kept worrying at this newest question like a dog with a bone. Why had Jamal, Bo, and Akinyi lied to me just now? What were they—and Vic—trying to hide?

  I was just licking the last bit of pineapple ice cream off my spoon when Madge stomped into the dining room. “Uh-oh,” Jamal murmured, rolling his eyes. “Here comes trouble.”

  “You two,” Madge spat out disagreeably when she reached the table, stabbing a red-tipped finger at Vic and Sydney. “And you and you.” She turned to include Akinyi and Bo. “Go get changed. We’re filming those pool scenes in half an hour, remember?”

  “Oh, right.” Akinyi sat back in her chair and yawned. “You know, when I agreed to come here, I didn’t know it was going to be a working vacation.”

  I couldn’t tell whether she was joking or not. Sydney seemed to think so, since she chuckled and nudged her friend on the shoulder. “Come on, Kinnie,” she said, standing up. “Let’s go get beautiful for the cameras.”

  That made Akinyi crack a smile. “Don’t be silly,” she said, standing up herself. “We are always beautiful, remember?”

  They giggled like schoolgirls at that. I suspected it was some kind of private joke—with all that had happened lately, it was easy to forget that they were best friends.

>   Soon the celebrities had left to get ready for the filming and Jamal had wandered off. That left me and my friends alone at the table.

  “So,” George said, picking at the remains of her dessert. “What now?”

  “Hang on.” I’d just noticed that Madge hadn’t left the room yet. She was standing by the hostess stand talking on her cell phone. “This could be my chance to question you-know-who.” I stood and winked at my friends. “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, tell my dad I loved him, okay?”

  “Good luck,” Bess said with a shudder.

  “If she kills you and eats you, can I have your car?” George added.

  I stuck out my tongue at her. Then I hurried toward Madge, reaching her just as she hung up her phone.

  “Excuse me,” I said before she could hurry off. “I have something to ask you.”

  “Well, go ahead and ask already—no need to make an announcement about it. I have things to do.” Madge sounded impatient, barely bothering to glance at me as she scrolled through the menu on her phone.

  I took a deep breath. “I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened with Vic’s lunch earlier,” I said. “I talked to the chef who made that steak, and he said you came in just as he was setting out the tray with that steak on it. I was just wondering if you saw anything suspicious while you were in the kitchen.”

  Okay, that wasn’t exactly what I was wondering. But I figured seeing how she answered might give me some hints.

  Madge finally looked straight at me, scowling. But her anger didn’t seem to be directed at me.

  “That idiot Donald!” she burst out. “I should just fire that pathetic twerp already. Not only is he completely incapable of fetching me a cup of coffee that’s actually hot, but he’s too big a wimp even to go complain to the kitchen about it! Like I don’t have anything better to do!” She rolled her eyes. “That’s why I made him play waitress so the actual waitress could make me some fresh coffee. And it sounds like he couldn’t even do that right, if he let someone at that food….” She trailed off in a few muttered swear words, then stomped off.

  I couldn’t help being a little surprised. Sure, Donald was pretty mild-mannered. But he’d always seemed very efficient and capable to me. Why would he suddenly be too timid to confront the kitchen staff? Was this just Madge trying to create some kind of alibi?

  I returned and told my friends what little I’d learned. “So Donald was the one who delivered that tray?” Bess said.

  “That’s what Madge says.” I shrugged. “Do you guys think it’s possible he could be the one who tampered with the steak?”

  “But why?” George asked. “What’s the motive? Think he’s working with Butch or something?”

  “I suppose it’s possible.” I tapped the edge of the table with my fingers. “Donald certainly had the access to pull off all the pranks so far, though it’s hard to imagine him having the gumption.” I let out a sigh of frustration. “I can’t believe we were worried about not having any suspects when we first got here. Now it seems like everyone’s a suspect except the three of us—”

  “And Sydney,” Bess put in.

  I nodded. “And Sydney,” I agreed. “Anyway, there are plenty of suspects but none of them makes sense. Are we really dealing with MrSilhouette, or is someone just using that bit of Syd’s history to mess with her?”

  “That would mean it’d have to be someone who knows about her stalker in the first place,” George pointed out. “Would someone like Madge or Donald have that kind of knowledge?”

  “I’m not sure. They might, after what happened before the wedding.” I stood up. “In any case, I think we’d better get over to the pool and keep an eye on things.”

  When we reached the main pool area, we found Madge there pacing back and forth along the edge of the water. Butch and one of the other TV camera operators were standing nearby, along with the still photographer we’d seen earlier. Lainie and a few other assorted crew members were also there, along with a couple of resort employees who were busy passing out water and such. I also spotted Jamal; he was lounging on a pool chair sipping a soda and watching the action.

  “Come on, let’s sit over here out of the way,” I told my friends, leading them over to some lounge chairs near where Jamal was sitting, well out of what I assumed would be camera range. Jamal saw us and raised one hand in a lazy wave, but made no effort to come over.

  Just as we sat down, Bo, Akinyi, and Vic wandered into view from the direction of the bungalows. “It’s about time,” Madge snapped, hurrying over to them. “Where’s Sydney?”

  “She’ll be here in a minute,” Vic said, sounding distracted as he glanced around the pool area. “She can’t find that blue bikini she was supposed to wear for the shoot, so she’s tearing up the bungalow looking for it.”

  “What?” Madge squawked. “Look, we’re supposed to be on a schedule here….”

  Vic ignored her, brushing past her as his eyes locked on me. He rushed straight toward where my friends and I were sitting.

  “Nancy, there you are,” he said when he reached us. “I need to talk to you privately. Now.”

  “Um, okay.” I stood up. What was this all about? Could it have anything to do with his mysterious behavior earlier? Or was he just anxious to hear whether I’d made any progress on the case?

  Before I could find out one way or the other, Donald rushed into the pool area, his thin face a mask of anxiety. “Vic!” he called out. “It’s Sydney!”

  Vic turned, looking impatient. “What about her?”

  “I just saw her,” Donald panted, his voice shaking. “She was running toward the lap pool, and she was crying pretty hard….”

  Vic didn’t need to hear any more. “Uh-oh, what now?” he muttered as he took off in the direction Donald was pointing.

  “Come on,” I said to my friends.

  We all took off after him. The lap pool was located a short distance away from the main pool area past the large gym building. The pool itself was about six feet deep, rectangular and fairly plain compared to the other two pools on the property, though its bottom and sides were lined with attractive tiles in various shades of red and brown.

  I was right behind Vic when we reached the lap pool’s small courtyard. What had he been about to tell me? Considering all that had happened, my heart was in my throat and my mind was filled with terrible possibilities. What if he really had gotten involved in some kind of secret romance with Akinyi—and Sydney had just found out?

  No, that couldn’t be it, I told myself. It just didn’t make sense. Whoever was doing this wasn’t just trying to break Vic and Sydney up. He or she was trying to hurt them—especially Vic. There had just been too many close calls to imagine it could be anyone other than the real MrSilhouette this time. The question was, who was MrSilhouette?

  We skidded to a stop at the edge of the lap pool. My mind was so busy turning over the facts of the case that it took me a moment to register what I was seeing.

  There, lying facedown at the bottom of the pool, was a slim, pale figure with reddish hair, dressed in a blue bikini. And she wasn’t moving.

  “Syd!” Vic screamed, racing toward the edge.

  QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

  “No!” I shouted at almost the same moment, grabbing at Vic. “Vic, stop. Don’t jump in there!”

  Vic didn’t seem to hear me. Most of the rest of the group from the other pool had arrived behind us by now, and a few of them let out screams or exclamations as they spotted the still figure at the bottom of the lap pool. But the only one who reacted to my words was Butch. He reached out and grabbed Vic by the arm just in time to stop him from hurtling over the edge of the pool.

  “Let me go!” Vic shouted, fighting frantically against the burly cameraman’s grip. “I have to save Syd!”

  “Save me?” repeated Sydney, wandering into view behind the others. She looked radiant in an emerald green swimsuit that set off her flaming red hair. “From what?”

  Vic goggl
ed at her, going limp in Butch’s grasp. “Sydney?” he gasped out. “But—but I thought …”

  He looked as confused as I’d ever seen him. Actually, just about everyone looked confused. Murmurs rose up from the onlookers.

  “What’s going on, Nancy?” Akinyi spoke up.

  “I’m just working on that question myself.” I kicked a handy pebble into the water, watching carefully for anything odd to happen as it hit the water. But it merely plunked in and sank. “Okay, looks like it’s not electrified….”

  “Huh?” Vic said. Butch had let go by now, and Vic had both arms wrapped around Sydney, who still looked perplexed.

  I glanced around and spotted a long-handled pool net leaning against a wall nearby. Grabbing it, I stepped to the edge of the pool.

  “Okay, I’m not sure what’s going to happen,” I said. “But I suspect there’s some kind of trap here, so you all might want to stay back just in case.”

  Using the net, I reached down and poked at the “body” on the bottom of the pool. As soon as I moved the figure a few inches, its hair detached from the rest of it and floated upward.

  “Hey!” Lainie cried. “That’s my wig!” Then she slapped a hand over her mouth and glanced around. “Oops.”

  “Wig?” Bo repeated.

  I ignored Lainie, though everyone else turned to stare. It wasn’t easy to make the long, thin handle of the pool net do what I wanted. But finally I poked the hairless figure at the bottom of the pool hard enough to make it flip over. That revealed its blank, contoured face.

  “It’s a mannequin!” Bess realized. “Like the ones in some of the shops here.”

  “Exactly like one of those,” I said. Then I gasped, pointing as there was a sudden flash of movement in the water. “Look!”

  Several spiny reddish-brown fish had just darted out from the shelter they’d found beneath the mannequin. They immediately swarmed the end of the net and started attacking it.