The Secret at Solaire (5 page)

“What about George and the others?” Bess
asked as they reached the road. “They went for help, and we don't know where they are.”

The young man grinned. “There's really no place for them to go, except the nearest horse ranch. Why don't you all sit tight, and I'll have someone check it out?”

He started back down toward the falls, but Nancy stopped him for one more question. “Do you think our friend Kim will be all right?” she asked.

“I don't know what to tell you,” the young man said quietly. “But we'll do our best to find her.”

• • •

It took a while before George and the others rejoined the group. Soon after someone from the spa who had the keys to the van showed up to drive them all back. No one spoke on the way home. By the time they returned to the spa, it was nearly three in the afternoon.

“I'm going back to the casita to take a nap,” George declared with a yawn. “We walked for six miles before we found a phone, which was a much longer hike than any of us had planned. I just want to forget about this whole day.”

“Me, too,” Bess said. “I'm going to check in at the gym. I think there's a stretching class going on now.”

Nancy thought about the roll of film she'd taken out of Kim's camera. “I'll see you guys
later,” she told her friends. “I have to go take care of something.”

Nancy went directly to the office, where she asked the receptionist if she knew of some place nearby where she could have film developed.

“The nearest place is fourteen miles away,” the receptionist told her. “However, Solaire has a special service for that. If you leave your film with me, I'll send it out and have the prints back for you tomorrow.”

Nancy had her doubts about giving Kim's film to the spa. But she didn't have a car to take the film in herself, and there was no other way for her to get prints made. She handed the receptionist the roll of film and thanked her.

She had just left the office when she noticed Hank Meader and Alain Giraud talking in front of the fountain in the main courtyard. They were an odd pair, Nancy thought. Alain wore a polo shirt and sweats and looked like a model for a sportswear advertisement. Hank stood in dusty jeans, a denim shirt, and boots, looking as if he'd stepped straight out of a western movie.

She was even more surprised when Rhonda Wilkins barged into the middle of their conversation, hands on hips and eyes flashing. The two men looked startled as the heavyset woman began gesturing wildly. “Where were you?” she asked Hank indignantly. “We had a riding lesson scheduled.”

Hank tipped his hat to her. “Sorry about that, ma'am. I went to pick up some feed for the horses early this morning, and the fan belt on the pickup broke. Had to hitchhike to the nearest gas station, and then they had to order a replacement. I just got back.”

Alain was watching this exchange with obvious amusement when he caught sight of Nancy. “I'm afraid I owe you an apology, too,” Alain said, coming over to her. “I'm sorry if I overreacted last night. Is that why you haven't come to the gym yet?”

The truth was that Nancy hadn't even thought about the gym. She'd been too busy worrying about Kim.

“If you come tomorrow, I'll get you started on a personal program,” Alain offered.

“Tomorrow,” Nancy agreed. She watched him walk off with a confident, athletic stride and wished she hadn't said yes. Something told her that it might be much healthier to avoid Alain Giraud's personal program.

• • •

“I've never seen this place so quiet,” Bess said the next morning at breakfast.

It was true, Nancy thought. Although the dining hall was full, it was nearly silent. Jacqueline Rozier had just announced that there was still no word on Kim.

“I just wish I knew what Kim's note was about,” Nancy said. “I have the awful feeling
she's been in danger for a while now, and she was coming to me for help.”

“Nan,” Bess said hesitantly, “are you sure you aren't trying to create a mystery where there might not be one?”

“Do you really think I'd do that?” Nancy asked, feeling a flash of hurt.

“No,” Bess said quickly. “I mean, I don't, but you can't go blaming Kim's disappearance on the spa. It was a freak flash flood. No one could have predicted it, so no one could have set Kim up.”

George drained the last of her orange juice. “I agree with Bess about the flood,” she said, “but I'm with Nancy as far as thinking there's something strange going on at this place.”

Bess stood up. “I'm going to the gym,” she announced. “I'll see you two later.”

“And there's another strange thing,” George said, pointing to Bess's plate. Her breakfast had consisted of a piece of toast, a small serving of fruit salad, orange juice, and another high-energy shake. Bess had left most of her toast and fruit unfinished. “We're being fed less than the average American house cat, and Bess isn't even eating that much,” George went on. “I'm really worried about her.”

“It's not like Bess,” Nancy agreed. “She's always wanted to lose weight, but I've never seen her this serious about it.”

“Do you think it's Alain's influence?”
George asked. “Bess gets stars in her eyes whenever she mentions his name. Maybe she's trying to impress him.”

“Let's join her in the gym and find out,” Nancy said.

Twenty minutes later, Nancy and George, dressed in leotards and tights, entered the gym. Bess and five other guests were in the middle of a strenuous aerobics workout, led by Alain. “Higher this time,” Alain urged as the class began a third set of leg lifts. “We're going to pick up the pace now. And one, and two . . . ”

The aerobics workout soon ended, but Bess remained in the gym. The other four women filed past Nancy on their way to the locker room. Her face flushed, and breathing hard, Bess headed straight to one of the weight machines. Alain helped her adjust the settings, and within minutes Bess was hard at work, this time building her biceps.

“This is unbelievable,” George murmured. “She's really overdoing it. Do you think we should say something to her?”

“Maybe,” Nancy replied. “But I doubt she'll listen to us.”

Alain caught sight of the two girls and came over to greet them. “I'm glad you're here for your first workout.”

“Oh, so am I,” Nancy said, wondering if Alain might be a good source of information
about Solaire. She remembered something she'd read in one of the brochures. “The Roziers had another spa before this one,” she said, as they walked across the room toward the first set of machines. “Did you work there as well?”

“No,” Alain answered with a smile. “The previous Solaire was on the island of St. Martin, I believe. I'm afraid I've never been to the Caribbean.”

He turned as another guest entered the gym, a pink towel slung around her neck. “Whitney,” he called out, “you can go up to sixty pounds today.” The young woman nodded and began adjusting the weights on one of the weight machines.

“Now,” Alain said, turning back to Nancy and George, “that's enough chatting. Time to go to work.”

Alain started Nancy on the treadmill and George on the grueling Stairmaster. Nancy began walking, noting that Alain had chosen a reasonable pace for her—not too fast and not too slow.

“Are you from France, like the Roziers?” she asked him when he came to check on her.

“Quebec, Canada,” he replied, increasing her pace slightly. “The Roziers prefer that their staff be fluent in French.”

“Why is that?” Nancy pressed.

Instead of answering, Alain increased the
pace on the treadmill until Nancy was puffing too hard to talk. Then he headed off to check on Bess.

Panting, Nancy reached out and quickly reset the machine. As the treadmill gradually slowed, she became aware of a sound beyond her own rapid breathing. Whitney was sitting on the weight machine's bench, clutching her left shoulder and moaning softly. “My arm,” she sobbed. “I think it's broken!”

Nancy, George, and Alain all reached the stricken guest at the same time. “What happened?” Alain demanded.

Whitney nodded toward a cable that had snapped, sending a stack of flat weights to the floor. “My arm,” she sobbed. “When the cable broke, it yanked my shoulder real hard.” She winced in pain. “I think something broke.”

“I'll get Dr. Benay,” George offered.

“Try not to move,” Alain told Whitney, his voice soothing. “How did the cable snap?” he added in a bewildered tone.

“This cable didn't fray and snap,” Nancy said, examining one neatly broken end of the metal cord. “Someone cut right through it.”

“That's impossible,” Alain said, frowning. “I check the equipment every morning and—”

Just then, brisk footsteps sounded on the
hardwood floor as Dr. Benay rushed across the gym. “Let me see the patient, please.” She knelt beside Whitney, carefully examined her, and then made a sling to support the injured arm with an elastic bandage she took from her pocket. “I think you may have pulled a ligament,” she said at last. “Still, I want to take some X-rays to be sure.”

Whitney stopped sobbing as soon as Dr. Benay had put on the sling. But she was still white-faced with pain as she stood up. “I'll be calling my lawyer,” she informed Alain icily. “The Roziers advertise Solaire as the finest spa in the country, but they don't even check to make sure their equipment is safe. They won't get away with this.”

“Please,” Alain said. “I checked that machine this morning. There was nothing wrong with it. I'm sure it was an accident.”

“Then you'll have a chance to explain that in court,” Whitney replied as she left the gym.

“How can you call this an accident?” George demanded of the trainer.

“Look at the cable,” Nancy added. “It didn't just wear out. Someone cut through it.”

“No one would tamper with our equipment,” Alain snapped. “It must have been faulty. And this whole thing is none of your business. I suggest that you two get back to work, like Bess.”

“No thanks,” George said quietly. “I don't
think I want to take my personal program quite that seriously.”

For the first time, Nancy realized that, if Bess had noticed Whitney's accident, she hadn't bothered to stop and see whether Whitney was all right. Bess was still on the other side of the room, working away on her weight machine. She looked driven—and exhausted.

“I'm going back to the casita,” George said.

“Me, too,” Nancy said. She walked over to Bess. “George and I are going back to the room now. Want to come?”

“Can't,” Bess huffed. “I've got to stretch out after this. So my muscles stay long and supple.”

Nancy sighed. “Okay, Bess. We'll see you later.”

• • •

“What is wrong with Alain?” George said the minute she and Nancy were back in their room. “How can he pretend that what happened to Whitney was just an accident?”

Nancy frowned. “I can't think on an empty stomach anymore.” Then she grinned at her friend, went to her suitcase, and took out two chocolate bars. She held one out to George. “My secret spa survival kit. Don't tell Alain.” She unwrapped the candy bar and took a satisfying bite. “Mmmm. And as for Alain—he'd
have
to pretend the severed cable was an
accident if he were responsible for it in the first place.”

“I don't know,” George said reluctantly. “Alain may have acted like a jerk, but I can't believe he'd sabotage the gym. It's too obvious. He'd get fired instantly.” She munched on the candy bar. “This chocolate tastes great, by the way.”

“Alain certainly is suspicious,” Nancy mused. “He turns on the charm one minute, then acts as if he'll bite your head off the next. I don't trust that guy at all.”

“Bess does,” George said ruefully.

As if on cue, the door opened and a tired-looking Bess trudged into the room. “Bess does what?” she asked. “Aerobics? Weights? Stretching? Dieting?” She collapsed onto one of the chairs. “Bess does them all, and she may never move again.”

“You really look beat,” Nancy said sympathetically.

“I am,” Bess said. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “Is that chocolate, or am I hallucinating?”

“It's chocolate,” Nancy told her. “Do you want some?”

Bess shut her eyes. “I didn't see a candy bar, and I don't smell it. It's a figment of my imagination.”

“Bess, you're losing it,” George said. When her cousin didn't reply, she added gently, “You
know, you might want to take things slower and build up to all this exercise gradually. It'd be a lot easier on your body.”

Bess opened one eye. “I'm only going to be here a week. Besides, I've already lost exactly one point two pounds. I can't stop now. You know what they say—no pain, no gain.”

“Did Alain say that?” Nancy asked.

“Everyone says it,” Bess replied. “It's true.”

George stood up, putting her hands on her hips. “I am so tired of everyone in sports saying ‘No pain, no gain,' as if it were some law! The truth is, you can get stronger and more limber and into better shape without hurting yourself.”

“George, you're a natural athlete,” Bess pointed out. “You can do a seven-minute mile without breathing hard. You've probably never had an ounce of fat on your body in your entire life. You don't have to sweat to look great.”

“Bess, I think you look fine the way you are,” Nancy said truthfully.

“You're just saying that because you're my friend,” Bess replied. She stood up and stretched. “I need a shower.”

George shook her head as the sound of running water came on. “I believe in working out,” she said, “but this is ridiculous.”