Sweet Revenge

by Carolyn Keene

  Mrs. Tagley was there, sitting on the faded love seat by the fireplace. Samantha leaned against one wall, worriedly fingering the silk of her blue dress. Tim sat in a chair next to her, his head in his hands. And Jake made a determined effort to flip through a magazine despite the tension in the room.

  From far down the hall the lilting strains of ballroom music could be heard.

  Samantha checked her watch. “The dance has already started,” she said. “I hope you can let me get back soon, Nancy. I don’t want to leave my stepfather to run things there too long without me.

  “Would you mind telling me what’s going on, Nancy?” Mrs. Tagley asked angrily. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, too, you know!” She began tapping her high heel impatiently on the floor.

  “I’m sure Nancy’s got a good reason for bringing us all together,” said Jake.

  “Well, I hope we’re not in for some kind of interrogation,” Tim muttered. Samantha shot him a warning glance, but he ignored it. “I’ve answered enough questions in the past couple of days.”

  “I haven’t come to interrogate you. I’ve come with some news,” Nancy told them. “News from the hospital.” Her voice was so somber that the group fell still instantly. Every pair of eyes in the room was watching Nancy intently.

  Nancy made her voice tremble as she spoke again. “I just talked to Brock’s doctor,” she said. “He told me that Brock has had a relapse.”

  Samantha let out a little gasp. “But I—I spoke to him on the phone earlier. He was fine!”

  “It happened very quickly.” Nancy bit her lip and stared at the floor as though she were fighting to keep from crying. Then she took a deep breath and said the hardest thing of all.

  “An hour ago Brock Sawyer died.”

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  THERE WAS A GASP of horror from Nancy’s listeners.

  “Oh, no! Oh, no!” Samantha cried sharply. “It’s my fault! If only I hadn’t asked Brock to come here!” Burying her head in her hands, she burst into tears.

  Tim patted her shoulder awkwardly, but his green eyes showed no emotion. Nancy wondered fleetingly what he was thinking. What would it feel like to console your girlfriend over another guy’s death?

  Mrs. Tagley was sitting as if paralyzed, her face so pale that Nancy was afraid she was going to faint. And Jake was biting his lip as if he, too, feared that he might cry.

  There were tears in Bess’s eyes as well. “I—I can’t believe it,” she said in a trembling voice. “I thought he was doing so much better!”

  Great acting, Bess! Nancy cheered silently. In a sober voice she said aloud, “He was. But the doctor says his system was so weak that when he ran a fever, his body couldn’t hold out against it.”

  “Then that makes it murder we’re dealing with, doesn’t it?” asked George, her brown eyes wide as she looked around the room. “Now that Brock is dead, one of these people is a murderer,” she said in a hushed tone.

  “That’s right,” said Nancy. She, too, eyed the roomful of people. “One of you is Brock’s killer.”

  Mrs. Tagley shook her head in disgust. “This is all a little melodramatic, isn’t it?” she asked harshly. “Do you suspect one of us in particular, or did you just bring us together for the fun of it?”

  “You’re all suspects,” Nancy replied. “And since you started this conversation, Mrs. Tagley, I’ll start with you.”

  Taking a few steps toward Samantha’s mother, Nancy said, “From the very beginning there seemed to be two different ways to read this case. It was possible that someone was out to sabotage the Chocolate Festival. It was also possible that someone was out to get Brock. In your case, Mrs. Tagley, sabotage was unlikely. But there was a good reason you might be out to get Brock.”

  Nancy met the older woman’s glare steadily. “In fact, you probably had the strongest motive of anyone in this room,” she said. “Brock’s father ruined your first husband’s life. You could even say he killed him.”

  Samantha turned to stare at her mother. “You never told me that!” she breathed.

  “It wasn’t worth telling,” Mrs. Tagley answered in a strained voice. “It was all in the past.”

  “But was it?” Nancy continued. “Your life was very difficult for a long time after Mr. Patton’s death. Any sane person would feel a grudge toward the son of someone who’d inflicted such a terrible wound.”

  “But he and I talked that whole mess over,” Mrs. Tagley burst out, her face red. “Brock wasn’t my favorite person, but I would never have poisoned him!”

  “That’s what you say now,” said Nancy. “But I’m not sure I believe you.

  “You had a strong motive, too, Tim,” she went on, turning to face him. “Jealousy is one of the most common motives for murder. You could see that Brock’s feelings for Samantha hadn’t disappeared—and that her feelings for him might be stronger than she thought.”

  Tim just stared sullenly at the floor, but Samantha cried, “No! I was just being polite!”

  Nancy paid no attention. “You also had reasons for wanting to sabotage the Chocolate Festival,” she told Tim. “It was eating up a huge amount of Samantha’s time. Maybe you were jealous of the festival instead of being jealous of Brock. Maybe you poisoned Brock without actually wanting him to die.”

  Tim raised his head to glare at her. “You’re being ridiculous,” he growled. “I thought you were a lot smarter than this, Nancy. Anyone who would come up with such a stupid solution has to be pretty dumb.”

  “I didn’t say it was the solution,” Nancy reminded him. “I just said it might be.”

  Now Nancy turned to Jake. “Jealousy might be your motive, too. I couldn’t help noticing that even though you’ve been very helpful all week, it’s Samantha who gets most of the attention in your family.”

  Samantha and her mother flinched guiltily at that, Nancy noticed.

  “You’ve had some good ideas over the past few days—ideas everyone has ignored,” Nancy continued. “Has it been too hard for you being around a stepsister whose rank at the inn is so much higher than yours? Did you feel left out in the cold?”

  Jake was stunned. “I didn’t think I did,” he said at last. “I mean, sure Samantha’s done a lot better than I have—but she’s already graduated from hotel school. When it’s my turn, I’m sure I’ll do just as well. And as for Sam getting more of the attention”—he smiled crookedly—“well, that’s just the way families are. Dad gets less attention than my stepmother. He and I are just background people, I guess.”

  Glancing toward the love seat, Nancy thought she saw Mrs. Tagley’s stern veneer crack once more. “You’re not background people to me,” Mrs. Tagley said, dabbing at her eyes.

  “And, Samantha—” Nancy wanted to be professional, but she couldn’t help speaking more gently to Samantha than she had to the other suspects. “It’s hard to believe that you would try to hurt Brock or sabotage your own festival. But I’ve been wondering whether you might have cracked under all the pressure. Was it too much for you? Did you decide you had to put a stop to the whole thing—without losing face?”

  Samantha’s expression was more hurt than angry. “I—I can see why you’d think that, Nancy,” she faltered, staring down at her clasped hands. “What you say—what everyone has been saying—is true. Running the festival has been too much for me.”

  Then, as if she remembered the reason they had all been brought to the library, she stared defiantly up at Nancy. “Still, I’m not guilty of those dumb, vicious pranks, and—and I’m especially not guilty of killing Brock. You’ll just have to believe me.”

  “I wish I could believe all of you,” Nancy said quietly. “Unfortunately, I can’t. One of you is lying.

  “Luckily someone has offered to help the liar come forward with the truth,” Nancy continued. She turned to the living room doors. “Here he is now.”

  The handle turned, and the doors pushed slowly open. Brock Sawyer stepped into the room.

&
nbsp; “I’ve come to see justice done,” he announced in a solemn voice.

  Never in her life had Nancy heard a sound like the eerie, shrieking wail that rose from Jake Tagley’s lips at that moment.

  Jake jumped to his feet, staring wild-eyed at Brock. His cheek was twitching uncontrollably, and sweat was pouring down his face.

  “No! No!” he screamed. “Don’t come near me! Or I-I’ll kill you again!”

  Still making that unearthly noise, he stumbled across the library and out the door.

  “Well,” Brock said. “That has to be the best acting I’ve ever done.”

  “You’re—you’re not dead!” Samantha rushed over to hug Brock, laughing and crying at the same time.

  Mrs. Tagley rose shakily to her feet. “Then it was Jake who—who—”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Nancy urgently. “And now we have to find him because I think he may be dangerous.”

  Bess, George, and Tim were already on their feet racing out the door.

  “There he is!” Bess cried, pointing down the hall. Jake was just disappearing down the stairs to the basement.

  Nancy and Tim thundered down the hall after him, shooting past the dining room. The ballroom music that floated out into the hallway sounded horribly out of place.

  When they reached the stairs, Nancy took them two at a time.

  “He went that way!” Tim shouted, pointing right. “Toward his father’s workroom!”

  That’s strange, Nancy thought. Why run to a place where we can corner him?

  But there was no time to think about that. In a flash they had reached the doorway to the storeroom.

  “Don’t come any closer!” Jake screamed.

  His four pursuers froze just inside the room.

  Jake was just yanking his father’s circular saw off its stand, the long electric cord still plugged into the wall outlet. He pressed the On switch and held the saw, whirring ominously, up in the air.

  Then—with a taunting smile on his face—he moved it up to a pipe on the wall.

  “That looks like a gas pipe!” Tim shouted hoarsely.

  “Right you are.” Jake gave a mirthless laugh and inched the saw closer to the pipe. “It’s the main gas line, and I’m going to saw through it now,” he growled.

  “But you can’t!” George cried. “The sparks will ignite the gas!”

  “Right again. The sparks will ignite the gas.” The whirring blade was only a fraction of an inch from the pipe now.

  “And then,” Jake went on, “this whole building will go up in a fireball.”

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  I’VE GOT TO stall him! Nancy thought desperately. It’s our only hope!

  Forcing a light tone into her voice, she said, “I hope you’re not planning to kill us before you explain how you pulled this off.” She had to talk loudly to be heard over the whirring of the saw. “That would be a little unfair, don’t you think?”

  Jake gave her an icy stare. “The old stall-the-bad-guy ploy, huh?” he said, to Nancy’s dismay. “Well, it won’t work. I’ve seen too many detective movies. Besides,” he added bitterly, “I didn’t pull it off. You tricked me into confessing. Old Jake messed up yet again.”

  “Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Bess said behind Nancy. “You did a fantastic job. Anyone would have freaked out when Brock walked in like that. I practically had a heart attack myself.”

  Good, Bess! Nancy thought. Keep it up!

  But Jake wasn’t going to fall for that trick either.

  Scowling, he said, “You’re the last person I’d listen to, you traitor. I thought you liked me, not Brock! I should have known I was only your second choice— Well, I’m used to second place now. After all, I’m always second to Samantha.”

  “I’m surprised to hear you say that,” George spoke up. “It seemed to me you were doing as much to keep the inn going as she was. I mean, look at the way you met us at the door when we first got here.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Nancy could see Tim edging slowly toward the door.

  “Yeah, but did I get any credit for meeting you?” Jake spat out. “No! Samantha acts like she doesn’t even want me around!” Nancy could see Jake had gotten even more worked up. “Boy, when I think of the times she’s insulted me—and I’ve just smiled and pretended not to care—Well, I’ll pay her back now.”

  “You certainly will,” said Nancy—and she meant it. “I’ve got to congratulate you, Jake. I thought you really didn’t care. You always seemed to be so reasonable about everything. You were always calm when everyone else was going crazy.”

  Tim was standing in the doorway now, poised to slip out into the hall.

  “It’s not hard to stay calm when you know you’re about to get even in a big way,” said Jake. “I’ve been planning this a long time. It doesn’t even matter that you caught me, Nancy. I’ll die in this fire, but so will everybody else. I think that’s a pretty fair trade-off.” He lifted the saw toward the pipe again.

  “Oh, come on,” Bess coaxed. “You’ve got to tell us how you did all this. I already knew you were smart, but don’t you want everyone else to know?”

  To Nancy’s astonishment, that seemed to do the trick. Jake kept one hand poised on the handle of the saw—but he let go of the On button and lowered the saw to its stand. He didn’t seem to notice that Tim was gone.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “What do you want to hear before I torch you?”

  “Everything,” said Nancy promptly. “Start at the beginning. You rigged the scale, didn’t you?”

  Jake chuckled. “Of course I did. That was hilarious. Seeing Mr. Beautiful chocolate-coated really made my day. Plus I knew my stepmother would give Samantha a lot of grief for it—which is mainly what I wanted. Messing up Brock was secondary to wrecking the festival.”

  “Well, that was a good start,” George said approvingly. “You grossed out a lot of people.”

  “Yeah, but the ants were even better, don’t you think?” said Jake.

  Nancy shuddered. “They really were. Where did you ever find so many?”

  “I just bought a few ant farms,” said Jake offhandedly. “I poured all the ants into a jar—they came in these little packets—and hid them in the back of the refrigerator. You know that old joke about how no one ever knows what’s back there? Well, that’s even more true in a big restaurant refrigerator.

  “I went out to the kitchen to help bring in some dishes,” Jake went on. “When no one was looking, I opened the jar and dumped the ants all over the cake. That wasn’t too hard. The cake was already set up on that rolling table, with the cloth over it. So I knew my surprise wouldn’t be ruined. Pretty slick, huh?”

  Nancy nodded. “Very. But the sweetener was your biggest project of all, of course. You must have found the calomel when you were working in the east wing—is that right?”

  “Right,” Jake said proudly. “It was in an old medicine cabinet. I read the label and thought, What a weird thing—medicine that’s supposed to make you sick to your stomach! Then I realized it might be kind of funny to make Brock sick. Especially when he kept blabbing on about that stupid nutritionist with her stupid sweetener. I thought it would really serve him right when his sweetener made him sick!”

  “So you didn’t mean to poison him?” said Bess. “Oh, I’m so relieved!”

  “No, I didn’t. When I added the calomel to his sweetener in the kitchen, I had no idea he’d react that way. To tell you the truth, I was pretty freaked out. I mean, I wanted to play a few tricks—not poison someone.”

  Was it Nancy’s imagination, or was Jake actually acting sorry? Maybe they could reason with him. It might be their only hope. Even if Tim had already called the police, they wouldn’t arrive for another ten minutes or so.

  “I didn’t mean to set you on fire, either, Nancy,” Jake went on in the same contrite tone. “I just thought it would be funny to scare you. In fact, I didn’t know you were going to be up there. I was just pl
anning to dump the flour on my stepmother. But you came up on stage, and the fire started, and—and all of a sudden I wasn’t a prankster anymore. I mean, who would believe I hadn’t known that either the poisoning or the fire was going to happen? Everything kind of—you know—snowballed. I suddenly realized that if I got caught, I was going to go to jail!” He looked appalled.

  “That’s when I stashed the jar of sweetener in Sam’s closet. If the police started looking for evidence, I figured they could have fun trying to pin it on Miss Goody Two-shoes.”

  “No wonder you wanted me out of the way,” Nancy said as sympathetically as she could. “It must have seemed like I was the only person standing between you and your freedom.”

  He shot Nancy a glance that seemed almost apologetic. “That’s right. I didn’t want to hurt you. I even kind of liked you. But, of course, I couldn’t let you ruin my life, could I?”

  “And that’s why you lured her to that hole in the floor?” asked George.

  “Yup. I hoped that either that or the chisel would finish her off. I have pretty good aim. I play a lot of darts.”

  Jake stared down at the saw. “This should be pretty foolproof, though,” he mused.

  Then he looked back up at Nancy. “I’ve got to hand it to you,” he told her. “You caught me fair and square. I wasn’t even a strong suspect, was I?”

  “No, you—”

  “Wait a minute.” Jake’s voice was suddenly electric with menace. “Speaking of suspects—where’s Tim?”

  Glaring at the girls, he whipped the saw back off its stand.

  Uh-oh! thought Nancy hopelessly.

  “He sneaked out of here, didn’t he? He’s going to call the police!” Jake was beginning to scream. “Well, he’s not going to get the chance! None of you will ever have a chance again! Say goodbye to one another because—here goes!”

  Nancy didn’t have time to react before he leapt toward the gas pipe.