041 Something to Hide (11 page)

“You’d better not be! Nancy’s your girl, remember?”

Bess laughed. “I guess you’ll have to come to the party to see if you can recognize me. I’m not sure what I’ll be. George called and said she went to Chicago today to pick out our costumes. She was very mysterious about her choices. I just hope I don’t turn out to be the back end of a horse.”

“Don’t worry, Bess,” said Brad. “Even if you are, I’ll recognize you.”

The jokes and teasing kept up until Ned had dropped off Brad and Bess. But the instant Bess waved goodbye, Ned turned to Nancy.

“Can we go back to the case for a second? There’s one thing I don’t understand,” he said.

The headlights of an oncoming car played on his face at that moment, and Nancy could see that his forehead was furrowed in thought.

“I just can’t buy Asco being involved in the poisoning,” he said finally.

“That’s been bothering me, too!” Nancy burst out. “I know industrial espionage happens,” she added. “But I can’t believe that any major company would try poisoning.”

“That’s exactly what I’m having trouble with,” Ned agreed. “Also, it seems to me that if people are afraid to use Spotless, they’d think twice before buying
any
skin cream. If that happened, Clearly would suffer almost as much as Spotless.

“You know,” Ned mused, “I think I’ll call my marketing professor tomorrow morning. He knows a lot about both Asco and Spotless. He may be able to help us.”

“That’s a great idea, Ned. We could really use some perspective on this thing.”

• • •

“I got the costumes!” George sang out as she walked through the front door of the Drew house the next afternoon.

At the sound of her voice, Nancy and Bess ran downstairs.

“Let’s see them! Let’s see them!” Bess said excitedly. She pounced on the four boxes that George was trying to balance, and they all slid to the ground. Bess grabbed the top one. “Is this mine?”

“Bess, let George pass them out,” Nancy protested.

“But I want to see my costume!” Bess wailed.

“It is the one in the box you’re holding,” George said. “And I hope you like it.”

Bess yanked the box open and rummaged eagerly through the folds of pink tissue inside. “Dorothy!” she squealed. “George, that’s perfect!
The Wizard of Oz
is still one of my favorite movies, you know!”

“I know,” said George with a grin. “And you’re perfect for Dorothy.”

She smiled wickedly at Nancy. “You’re the Scarecrow. Hope you don’t mind. I’m the Tin Man, and Ned is the Cowardly Lion.”

Nancy burst out laughing. “I’ll let
you
tell him that. He’ll certainly look cute, though!”

She picked up the box with her own costume and tried on the raggedy straw hat inside. “How’s it look?” she asked.

“Perfect,” said George. “Not a brain in your head. And speaking of no brains, guess who I saw in Chicago?”

“No idea.”

George unzipped her jacket and tossed it over the couch. “Try Heather Tompkins.”

Nancy stared at her in astonishment. “Did you talk to her? What was she doing there?”

“I don’t think she saw me,” George answered. “Which is probably lucky, as far as
she’s concerned. I doubt she’d have wanted to know I saw her.”

“Why? Where did you see her?” asked Bess.

“Coming out of the Premier Advertising Agency.”

“Isn’t that the ad agency for Spotless?” asked Bess.

“Yup,” George said.

“But Heather told me she’s dropping out of the marketing program,” Nancy said blankly. “Why would she be talking to the people at Premier? It’s got to have something to do with the marketing program, but—”

“Nancy, this is very interesting, but can we think about it on the way to Brad’s?” Bess interrupted.

Nancy gave her a puzzled stare. “To Brad’s?” she repeated.

“It’s almost three o’clock,” Bess said patiently. “I told Brad we’d get to his father’s greenhouse at three. Pumpkins—remember?”

Nancy stifled a groan. She’d completely forgotten about the pumpkin-gathering expedition. Visiting a greenhouse was the last thing she felt like doing, but she had promised Bess.

“Want to come with us to buy pumpkins?” she asked George, grabbing the keys to the Mustang. “Not that Bess is really interested in the pumpkins—”

“I’d love to come,” said George. “It’ll be nice to have a ride in the country.”

The three girls made their way out of River Heights and into the surrounding countryside. After a short drive, they spotted a sign for Chanin’s Nursery.

The Chanin family’s greenhouses were set back from the road, but a fruit stand next to the driveway beckoned the girls with a colorful array of bright red apples, brilliant gourds and Indian corn, and baskets of grapes.

“I’m hungry,” Bess said as Nancy parked the car. “Let’s make sure we get a few apples, at least. And maybe some cider, and let’s see if they have any maple syrup—”

“Can I help you, girls?”

Nancy, Bess, and George turned to see a tall man in a gray sweater, faded jeans, and heavy work boots walking toward them. His once-blond hair was mostly gray now, but there was no mistaking his resemblance to Brad.

“Oh, hi,” said Bess nervously. “We were looking for Brad. I mean, for pumpkins! I mean—”

“You must be Bess,” the man said, his eyes twinkling. “I’m Ted Chanin, Brad’s father. Brad said you might come this afternoon. I asked him to make a delivery, but I expect him back soon. Can I show you anything in the meantime?”

“Well, as Bess said, we’re interested in pumpkins,” Nancy told him.

“Then you came to the right place.”

Mr. Chanin led them down a little path between two greenhouses. “Just a minute,” he said, pulling open a creaky old door to step into a small gardening shed. When he came out, he was pushing a wheelbarrow.

“The pumpkin patch is back here,” he said, once again leading the way. “More than half of them have been sold already, though.”

George gasped. “This is incredible!” she said as they walked behind the second greenhouse. There, in the field behind it, were rows and rows and rows of huge pumpkins.

“I’ve never seen such enormous pumpkins,” Nancy said to Mr. Chanin as Bess and George began walking through the field. “What’s your secret?”

Mr. Chanin shook his head. “No secret. Just hard work. We get lots of full sun here, of course. The soil’s well drained, and we use a lot of fertilizer. And, of course, we do use a couple of pesticides, though we don’t advertise that fact . . .”

Nancy was itching to join her friends, but Brad’s father kept on talking. Now he was pointing to the rows with the largest pumpkins.

“Take those,” he said. “That strain was
susceptible to vine borer this year, so we had to use a stronger insecticide than normal.”

Nancy gave the pumpkins an admiring glance. “It must have worked,” she said politely.

Mr. Chanin grinned. “Arsenic does it— every time."

A
RSENIC
!

Nancy stared at Mr. Chanin for a long moment, her mind whirling. For a second she actually felt faint.

Has the answer been here all the time? she thought. Is this greenhouse the source of—

“Mr. Chanin, there’s a customer here who says she has to talk to you right away.” Nancy and Brad’s father turned to see a harried-looking employee. “It’s that woman who’s always calling us to complain. She claims you deliberately sold her a bushel of bruised apples, and she wants her money back.”

“Oh, dear,” said Mr. Chanin mildly. “Yes, I
know the woman you’re talking about. Could you tell her I’ll be right there? Please excuse me,” he said to Nancy. “I’d better go straighten this out. Nice talking to you.”

He waved and disappeared into the greenhouse before Nancy had a chance to ask him anything else.

“Hey, Nan! Are you going to help us, or what?” George hollered from the middle of the pumpkin field.

“Here I come!” Nancy called back as she slowly began walking toward her friends. She was still reeling from what Mr. Chanin had told her.

Before she’d reached Bess and George, though, Nancy heard footsteps thudding in the dirt behind her. She turned and saw Brad racing toward them.

“Sorry I’m late,” he panted as he caught up to them. He smiled at Nancy and George, but his brightest smile was for Bess.

“No problem,” George told him. “Bess and I have done a wonderful job picking pumpkins out all by ourselves. Or maybe I should say Bess has. She wants about five hundred of them. It’s a good thing your dad brought us a wheelbarrow.”

“But I still can’t decide between these two,” Bess said plaintively, pointing to two massive pumpkins. “They’re both great.”

“Why don’t you take them both?” Nancy
suggested absentmindedly. Her thoughts were still on what Brad’s father had told her.

Brad spoke up. “I agree with Nancy. Take them both.”

“You’re a great salesman,” said Bess with a giggle. “Do you need any help pushing the wheelbarrow?”

“I just need your company,” said Brad cheerfully as he hoisted the second of the gigantic pumpkins into the wheelbarrow and trundled it down to the parking lot.

George and Nancy followed more slowly. When they reached the parking lot, Bess called out, “Nancy, we’ve just about filled the trunk of your car!”

“There’s room for two more in the back—as long as they’re not those fifty-pound monsters Bess seems to like,” Brad said.

“Come help me pick the best two,” Bess called to George, and they raced back to the field.

When the two girls were out of earshot, Brad breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Nancy.

“I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you alone,” he said. Brad’s expression was deadly serious, and he was speaking so quietly Nancy could hardly hear him. This time, though, she found his manner odd. Why was Brad always acting so secretive?

“What is it?” Nancy asked.

“I wanted to talk to you about Justin,” Brad
replied. “I know you’re a detective, so you’ve faced these problems before. What do we do first—call the police or call Emerson?”

His question took Nancy by surprise. “Why would we call the college?” she asked. “Even if Justin is the poisoner, there’s no reason for us to call his school.”

Brad gave her a look that said the answer to that was obvious. “Justin should be expelled for what he did!” he said incredulously.

“Well, maybe so,” said Nancy. “But I’m still puzzled about one thing, Brad.” She was telling the truth. “I can understand why Justin might tamper with the samples to help Asco, but why would he want to hurt Marcia, too?”

Brad took off his glasses and polished them on his handkerchief. “I don’t think Justin hurt Marcia deliberately,” he said slowly. “But Marcia was always worried about her skin. She must have used too much Spotless—that’s why she’s so much worse off than the other patients.”

It was a good theory except for one thing. No matter how much Spotless Marcia had slathered on her face, it wouldn’t have caused a coma. Whatever the source of Marcia’s arsenic had been, it wasn’t Spotless.

Nancy didn’t mention that to Brad, of course. Instead she just said, “I think the best thing to do is to wait until the party. Justin may give us a clue then.” And I’m still not
convinced Justin’s the one, she added to herself, giving Brad a searching look.

“Okay,” Brad said, avoiding Nancy’s eyes. “I guess we’ll figure out a way to turn him in after that. I just hope he doesn’t try anything else in the meantime.”

• • •

“Hi, Ned, it’s me,” Nancy said. “Did you talk to your professor?”

She had just come home from dropping off Bess, George, and about three hundred pounds of pumpkins. She had said a quick hello to Hannah and dashed up to her telephone.

Ned’s answer was about what Nancy had expected. “The professor confirmed what we’d already been thinking. Asco would lose more than it would gain by poisoning Spotless. Remember what happened after the sleeping pill scare? Sales of all sleeping pills dropped. Professor Martin doesn’t think Asco would risk anything like that.”

Nancy stared out the window, watching the leaves fall off the trees. Even without knowing much about marketing, she felt sure Ned’s professor was right.

“Professor Martin also said that he knows the president of Asco personally,” Ned continued. “He says he’d never let his company be involved in sabotage—he’s much too principled for that.”

“Thanks, Ned,” Nancy said gratefully.
“Things are starting to come together for me at last.”

As she hung up the phone, Nancy pulled a pad and pencil from her desk and began to doodle. She drew a row of squares and connected them to a row of triangles. Then she started to color in half of each square. And all the time that her hand was busy drawing, her mind was busy putting things together.

The pieces were starting to fit.

It all hinged on the basics: motive and opportunity.

Justin had the opportunity and the specialized knowledge to poison the samples. But what was his motive?

It seemed almost certain that he wasn’t being paid by Asco, despite what Brad had said. And if Asco wasn’t paying Justin to tamper with the Spotless samples, what reason did he have for poisoning them? None that Nancy could find.