Hidden Meanings (3 page)

N
ANCY HEARD SALLY HARVEY
gasp. Then she noticed the blood draining from Gary Ruxton's face. “Your room was broken into?” he repeated. “I'd better call hotel security,” he said. “Don't go back to the room alone. I'll go with you.”

Before he left, Mr. Ruxton gave the students who had been listening a reassuring smile. “Nothing to worry about, I'm sure,” he announced. “Go ahead and sit down to dinner, everyone. We'll take care of this problem.” He took Gina by the arm and led her away before she could say anything. Sally hurried to follow them out the door.

Nancy slipped quietly through the crowd and out the ballroom door. Gina and Sally were standing near the escalator leading down to the Muskoka Lobby. Gary Ruxton was at a nearby phone, calling security. Nancy walked up and waited for him to finish his call.

Hanging up, Mr. Ruxton looked at her squarely. “Nancy, I know your reputation as a detective,” he said. “Maybe you can get to the bottom of this.”

“I'd be happy to help,” Nancy told him.

Gina's dark eyes widened. “This girl is a detective?” she asked skeptically.

“Yes—and a very good one, too,” Mr. Ruxton declared. “Nancy, this is Gina Fiorella—Gina, Nancy Drew. Now, Gina, what's your room number?”

“We're in 707,” Gina said. “But surely we don't need a detective!” She tagged after the teacher as he headed for the elevators. “I have my own bodyguard.”

“Nancy happens to be here tonight as my guest,” Mr. Ruxton explained. “It won't hurt to get her advice.”

An elevator arrived, and Nancy, Gina, and Mr. Ruxton stepped inside. Once upstairs, Gina led the way to her room. Mr. Wasilick, the hotel security chief, was standing outside the open door. Beside him, Ned leaned over the balcony railing, looking down into the atrium. Nancy flashed Ned a quick look, silently warning him not to let on that they knew each other. He nodded and looked away quickly. Nancy hoped that Mr. Ruxton wouldn't unintentionally blow their cover.

Through the open door, Nancy could see that the room was a shambles. Drawers were pulled out, and their contents were spread around. Closet doors stood open, and suitcase lids gaped wide.

“Sally had already gone down to the banquet,” Gina explained. “I'd just stopped by Ned's room, to see if he was settled in okay. He's next door, in 709.” Her eyes danced as she threw Ned a dazzling smile. “Anyway, he and I passed by my room on our way to the elevator, and we saw this.” She gestured toward the mess.

“We didn't go inside,” Ned added. “I thought it was best to alert the authorities right away. I sent Gina down and I stayed here, watching the room.”

“So you don't even know if anything's missing?” Mr. Wasilick asked. Gina shook her head. He sighed. “Let's go assess the damage,” he said.

Mr. Wasilick, Gina, and Sally entered the room, with Nancy and Mr. Ruxton close behind them. Ned stayed just inside the door.

Gina walked straight to a small leather case on a shelf in the closet. Quickly working the combination lock, she lifted the lid. “Well, thank goodness my jewelry's all here,” she announced.

“My cameras are here, too,” Sally added, looking inside a black canvas case sitting near the TV set.

Maureen Peabody appeared in the doorway. “Oh, Ms. Fiorella, I can't believe this has happened!” she exclaimed.

Gina wheeled around to face the hotel manager. She turned on a hundred-watt smile. “Thanks for your concern,” she said sweetly. “Luckily, our valuables weren't taken. They were in locked cases. Maybe our thief was an amateur who couldn't break them open.”

“But that jewel case is fairly small,” Nancy spoke up. “Why didn't the thief just take it away?”

Gina looked annoyed at Nancy's comment.

Mr. Wasilick hooked his fingers in his belt. “I doubt if the motive was robbery at all,” he said. “Maybe someone wanted to hurt you, Ms. Fiorella. You weren't here, so whoever it was messed things up to scare you.”

Nancy noticed Sally Harvey flinch, Gina, however, tossed her thick, wavy dark hair. “Well, things like this don't scare me,” she replied.

While Gina and Sally continued to check their belongings, Maureen Peabody and Gary Ruxton went out into the hallway to confer. A moment or two later, Ms. Peabody signaled to Nancy to join them.

“Mr. Ruxton tells me that you're an experienced detective,” the general manager said. “He has great faith in you. I was wondering if you could hang around the workshop and keep your eye on things. This break-in may be nothing, but it makes me nervous—especially after what happened to Gina this afternoon.”

Nancy nodded, thinking to herself that this setup would also allow her to keep an eye on Ned. “I understand that Gina's father is very wealthy,” she began.

“Enormously wealthy—and he has strong political connections in Italy,” Ms. Peabody said. “I've heard he has more than his share of enemies. Some of them might try to hurt him through his daughter.”

Nancy felt a tug of excitement at the prospect of such an intriguing case. So this case would be more than just protecting a spoiled rich girl, she thought.

“You're young—you can blend into the crowd at the conference better than Stan Wasilick can,” Ms. Peabody said. “In a hotel, there are always crowds of people. The more eyes we have, the better.”

“In that case,” Nancy said, “I have two friends who could help—Bess Marvin and George Fayne. Bess is already working at the conference, as a matter of fact. While I'm watching Gina at the workshop, they could easily work behind the scenes. After all, I doubt a workshop student is our culprit.”

Ms. Peabody looked interested. “I can arrange for them to go undercover,” she said. “Bess could be a server at the workshop meals, and I could get George in as a pool lifeguard. Can he swim?”

Nancy hid a grin. “Yes,
she
can,” she said, correcting the general manager. “George is a girl.”

“I'm very sorry!” Ms. Peabody said, looking embarrassed.

“Don't worry. With that name, it's an easy mistake,” Nancy assured her. “But I just thought of one problem—Bess worked at the registration table today. Won't the workshop participants recognize her?”

“They probably thought she was a hotel employee,” Ms. Peabody said. “The truth is, hotel guests don't usually notice employees' faces. I'll speak to the front desk and get you a room right down the hall, if possible,” Ms. Peabody said.

Nancy nodded. “George and Bess could share the room, too,” she suggested. “If they're careful about coming and going, they won't blow their covers.”

Just then Stan Wasilick came to the door. “No evidence in there,” he said. “No sign of a break-in at the door. I'll bet our thief used a keycard.”

“Keycard?” Nancy asked.

The security chief shot her a suspicious look. “Who are you, anyway?” he demanded.

Ms. Peabody cleared her throat. “Stan, this is Nancy Drew. She's a detective, and I've asked her to help us on this case.” Mr. Wasilick raised his eyebrows. Nancy could tell he was skeptical of her.

“Well, miss, this hotel uses keycards, not metal keys,” he explained, pulling from his pocket a rectangle of thin gray plastic that looked very much like a credit card. “A guest just slides this card into this slot to open the lock.” He pointed out a three-inch-wide slot in the metal plate below the room's doorknob.

“For security purposes, the cards don't have room numbers on them,” Mr. Wasilick added. “Those two girls say they didn't lose their cards, but I'll bet one of them put hers down for a second and someone borrowed it—someone who
knew
their room number.”

“How does the housekeeping staff gain access to a room if the guest is out?” Nancy asked.

The security chief looked surprised. “Good question. Uh, they have a passkey,” he said. “See that little lock below the keycard slot? That's for the passkey.”

“So anyone from the housekeeping staff could have gotten in,” Nancy suggested.

“Only the maids assigned to this floor,” he said hastily. “Each floor has a different passkey. And I'm going right now to question the maid on duty.”

Nancy hid a smile as he hurried away. She could tell he hadn't thought of that angle.

Nancy asked the general manager if she could interview the two girls. Ms. Peabody agreed, and Nancy went back into their room. Ned, who had been waiting near the door, stepped outside as she came in. Nancy was careful not to meet his eyes.

Gina and Sally were still straightening up, but they gladly answered Nancy's questions. Sally said she'd left the room at six to meet friends downstairs. Gina repeated her story about finding the room a mess.

“Any idea who might've done this?” Nancy asked, leaning against a dresser.

“One of my dad's enemies.” Gina sighed as she flopped into a chair. “Or one of my own enemies.”

Nancy raised her eyebrows. “Your enemies?”

Gina looked bored. “My rivals, of course,” she said. “There's Jane Sellery, editor of the
Folio
at Brookfield Academy. It's a dreadful yearbook, but for some reason she thinks we're rivals. She's at the workshop—I saw her this afternoon, in the lobby. When that trolley rolled down the ramp, she was standing right behind it!”

“Are you sure about that?” Nancy asked, straightening up.

Gina nodded. “Jane's hard to miss. She's nearly six feet tall, and her hair is red as a carrot.”

“What could she gain by raiding your room, or by knocking you into the pool?” Nancy asked.

“We're both National Scholars finalists,” Gina said loftily. “They accept only one boy and one girl from each state. Maybe she thinks she'll win if she knocks me out of the running.”

“Oh, Gina, I don't believe that,” Sally said. “Jane's competitive, but she's not evil. Anyway, you're sure to win. Your grades are just as good as hers, and your extracurricular record is much stronger. Plus, your yearbook is better.”

“Our
yearbook,” Gina corrected her, flashing her friend a warm smile.

“Well, I'll look into this angle,” Nancy promised. “Her name is Jane Sellery?”

“Yes. Sounds like the vegetable, ‘celery,' but it starts with an
S,”
Gina told Nancy.

Just then, angry male voices could be heard outside the door. Gina and Sally traded questioning glances. “We'd better see what's going on,” Nancy said. The three girls moved to the door and listened.

“Replace me? You amateur!” one voice sputtered.

Gina gaped. “That's Nick Kessler, my old bodyguard,” she whispered.

Nancy recognized Ned's voice. “I just plan to stay alert and do what I can to help Gina,” he said.

“Ms. Fiorella to you!” Nick growled. “And you'll learn she's not so easy to guard. When she wants you around, she's all smiles and big eyes. But if she wants her freedom, she'll disappear out from under your nose.”

“Hey, buddy, it's not my fault you messed up on the job,” Ned said. Then the girls heard a thud against the door and Ned yelled, “Hey!” Nancy guessed Nick had shoved Ned.

“You just watch your step, lover boy,” Nick shouted, his voice fading down the hallway. “If anything happens to her, you'll answer to me!”

There was silence in the hallway. Nancy squinted through the peephole and saw Ned leaning against the wall, his arms tightly folded and his jaw jutting out angrily. Knowing Ned's temper, Nancy realized he needed time to cool down.

Gina strolled away from the door, tossing her head haughtily. “Men!” she joked. “I think Ned could use a little cheering up. Let's take him to dinner, Sal—I'm starved.”

Nancy's own stomach growled at the thought of dinner. “If you don't mind, I'd like to take a look around the room,” she said.

Gina shrugged. “Okay with me. My bodyguard will be with us—just pull the door shut when you leave.” Picking up her tiny designer leather purse, she grabbed Sally's arm and breezed out the door.

Stifling her resentment, Nancy began to inspect the room, starting with the door and windows. She examined the floor of the closet, and checked the locks on the suitcases. She couldn't help but note that Gina had three matching suitcases in expensive olive green leather, compared to Sally's one red canvas satchel and black camera carryall.

Nancy dropped to her knees to inspect the carpet. Stan Wasilick had found no clues, but Nancy hoped to find something, if she hunted hard enough.

Nearing the bed, she bent down to look underneath. A slim white object, about five inches long, gleamed in the shadows. Nancy pulled it out.

It was a ballpoint pen with a green crest printed on the side. Nancy looked closer.

The crest of Brookfield Academy—Jane Sellery's school!