The Secret at Solaire (9 page)

“Thanks,” Nancy said, accepting a glass.

“Now, what is so urgent?” Jacqueline asked. “You know that it is very important to us that all of our guests are happy at Solaire.”

Nancy took a deep breath. “I know the spa is being sabotaged,” she began. “And I know
who's responsible. I think you have to go to the police right away, before someone else gets hurt.”

Jacqueline gave Nancy a thin smile. “Surely things cannot be as dire as all that.”

“My friend was knocked unconscious, another guest pulled a ligament, Rhonda Wilkins and I were almost killed, and Kim's been kidnapped!” Nancy said urgently. “What more are you waiting for?”

“Kim is fine,” Jacqueline said calmly. “I showed you her letter yesterday and—”

“And if you knew anything about her, you'd realize that that letter was a call for help,” Nancy broke in. “Kim hates Phoenix, and she never goes to museums. Someone forced her to write that letter. She put those things in as a kind of distress signal.”

“Ms. Drew,” Jacqueline said calmly, “I am sure you mean well, but this is really none of your business. I believe you have—what do you call it in English?—an overactive imagination.”

“And you have a serious problem on your hands,” Nancy retorted. “You're going to lose clients if this keeps up. Whitney is threatening lawsuits. Melina was very upset this morning. Even if you don't believe what I'm telling you about Kim, don't you care about Solaire's reputation?”

Jacqueline stood up, her green eyes flashing.
“I have nothing more to say to you, Ms. Drew. Except that, if you wish to continue your stay at Solaire, I strongly suggest you stop all of this meddling.”

Nancy stood up, set her glass down, and left Jacqueline's office without another word.

She found George and Bess in one of the outdoor Jacuzzis.

“Come join us for a second,” Bess called out. “This water is so relaxing.”

“How did your talk with Jacqueline go?” George asked. “What did she say about Kim?”

“The woman didn't pay attention to a word I said,” Nancy replied.

“That's terrible,” Bess said.

Nancy sighed. “I know. So, how was your afternoon?”

“I went riding,” Bess reported, “and Hank was very nice. He's great with the horses. He told me he used to own a ranch.”

Just like Henry Sinclair, Nancy thought.

“Then I went back to the gym and had a fitness session with Alain,” Bess went on. “Guess what? I've lost another three-quarters of a pound!”

“And I had a tennis game with Lisette,” George said. “She's an incredible player.”

Nancy felt a sudden twinge of regret. “Now that you guys are having a good time here, I hope I haven't blown it for all of us.”

“What do you mean?” Bess asked.

“I took a chance confiding in Jacqueline,” Nancy said. “She and Laurent are definitely trying to hide something, and now she knows I'm onto them. So I'm probably not her favorite guest at the moment. I just hope that doesn't make things difficult for you two.”

“We'll be okay,” George assured her. “If we can survive Alain and the rabbit food they feed us here, we can survive anything.”

Nancy appreciated George's effort to make her feel better, but she was still a little worried about her friends. She didn't trust anyone at Solaire, particularly the Roziers, Hank, and Alain. But maybe she was carrying things too far.

“Bess,” Nancy said, “do you still think the Roziers and their staff are not involved in any of the things that have been going on?”

Bess eased herself out of the Jacuzzi and hesitated before answering. “I guess the muddy plaid shirt was pretty solid evidence that Hank was down at the falls on the day Kim disappeared,” she said finally. “And as for the Roziers and Alain . . . well, they've all been acting kind of strange at times, but the law does say that someone is innocent until proven guilty.”

“You're right, Bess,” Nancy agreed. “I've got plenty of theories about what's going on here. What I need now is solid proof.”

“Maybe we'd better change the subject,” George said quietly.

Alain was walking toward them. “What's going on here?” he called out in a teasing voice. “I turn my back for a few minutes, and all three of you get lazy?”

“It's a matter of balance,” George told him. “You know—work, play. Exercise, relax. Vegetables, chocolate.”

“I see,” Alain said, his tone amused. “Well, I'm on my way to the pool. I'll be teaching a water aerobics class in thirty minutes. I expect to see you all there.”

George got out of the Jacuzzi and reached for a towel. “That man can even make swimming sound like work. At least tonight will be all play.”

“That's right,” Nancy said. “I forgot we were taking a trip to Old Tucson tonight. I never really thought I'd be that interested in a recreated Wild West town, but nowadays the idea of going anywhere they serve normal food . . . ”

“Hot dogs and hamburgers and french fries,” George said dreamily.

“Butterscotch sundaes and devil's food cake,” Nancy added. “And honey-dipped fried chicken.”

Bess stood up, looking extremely self-righteous. “I refuse to be tempted,” she said in a lofty tone.

Nancy and George grinned at each other. “We'll tell you all about it,” George promised.

After the two cousins had gone off to Alain's water aerobics class, Nancy decided to take a walk around the grounds. She didn't have much hope of finding any clues, but she needed to sort through the facts she had.

Nancy headed north, walking toward the Catalina Mountains. She enjoyed seeing the play of light and shadow on the slopes. The mountains seemed to change with the course of the sun, as if every time she looked at them, they showed her different parts of themselves. Nancy stopped, amused, as a roadrunner darted across her path, its little legs stretching full-length with each stride.

She was just nearing the stables when Hank Meader rode up to her on a bay gelding. “Afternoon, Ms. Drew,” he said, reining in the horse.

“Hi,” Nancy said, surprised he'd stopped.

“You know,” Hank drawled, “all sorts of strange things happen out west. Things disappear from one place, reappear in another. Some folks say it's pack rats. Others blame the wind.”

“What are you talking about?” Nancy asked, suddenly wary.

“For example,” he went on, as if he hadn't heard her question, “just this morning I happened to look down and find this.”

Nancy's heart raced as he reached into his pocket and took out the delicate silver bracelet Ned had given her.

“ ‘To Nancy with love,' ” Hank read. “This wouldn't happen to be yours, now, would it?”

“It was a present from my boyfriend,” Nancy said, trying to keep her voice calm. “Thank you for returning it.” She reached up to take the bracelet, but Hank pulled it back, just out of her reach.

“I found it on the floor of my bedroom,” he said in a soft voice. “Now, like I told you, strange things happen out west, so I'm not going to make a big deal of this.”

Nancy felt herself starting to shake. She was amazed when Hank simply handed her the bracelet.

“Just a warning, Ms. Drew. Don't let any more of your things ‘disappear' into my house. Not only won't you get it back, but I promise you, missing jewelry will be the least of your problems.”

All during the ride to Old Tucson, Nancy's mind was on the case. She barely noticed when the van began the nearly vertical descent through Gates Pass to the other side of the Tucson Mountains.

Nancy's concentration was focused on Hank Meader, who was driving the van. Instinct told her that Hank Meader was really Henry Sinclair, but how was she ever going to prove it? Should she break into his house again and search until she found some piece of identification for Henry Sinclair? That probably wasn't the best idea, she decided. Not after he'd found her bracelet in his room.

Maybe she ought to forget all about double identities and simply concentrate on finding Kim Foster. She could go to the police with the photograph showing the spot of plaid, but how
would they weigh that against a cheerful letter signed in Kim's own handwriting? Where was Kim now? Nancy wondered. Was she safe? Scared? Was it possible she'd escaped on her own?

Hank pulled the van into the Old Tucson parking lot. So many of the spa guests had wanted to go on this field trip that Solaire had sent another van driven by Lisette, and a station wagon driven by Alain.

“Talk about atmosphere,” George said to Nancy as they got out of the van. She nodded toward the uneven ocotillo fence that bordered the area. “They even made the parking lot look like an Old West stockade.”

The Solaire group passed through the entry gate and stood back as a brightly painted steam locomotive chugged by. Crossing over the tracks, they entered a dusty street lined with two-story wooden buildings and hitching posts. Actors dressed as gunfighters, cavalry soldiers, and dancers walked the streets, mingling with the tourists.

“This place looks awfully familiar,” Bess said in a puzzled tone.

“That's probably because you've seen it in dozens of movies and TV shows,” Hank explained. “Besides being an amusement park, Old Tucson is a soundstage. Hollywood's been shooting westerns here since 1939.”

Nancy nodded toward a roped-off side street
with a sign reading Hot Set. “Does that mean they're actually shooting now?”

“That's right, ma'am,” drawled a handsome young man dressed as a gunfighter. He tipped his hat to Nancy. “In approximately fifteen minutes you can watch me hold up the stagecoach. It's a great scene. I set the stagecoach on fire, and then it rolls down a cliff.”

Alain made his way to the front of the group. “You're all free to explore on your own, as long as you're back in the parking lot by nine
P.M

“I'm heading straight for the Coyote Cafe,” George vowed. “Junk food, here I come!”

Alain raised one disapproving eyebrow but didn't comment.

“I'm with you, George,” Mr. Harper said, sounding extremely relieved to have found a kindred soul.

His wife took his arm. “So am I. I've been good about as long as I can stand it.”

“Not me,” Bess said, sounding wistful. “I think I'll just walk around and check out the sights.”

Nancy was very tempted by the idea of a junk-food binge. But she was more determined to learn anything she could about Hank Meader. Then again, she thought as she watched George and most of the other Solaire guests set off for the cafe, how much can I learn about anyone by following him around an amusement park?

Nancy dropped back a short distance and let Hank walk ahead of her. Melina Michaels was at his side, and the two of them seemed to be talking quietly. Bess, unsurprisingly, set off with Alain. Nancy wished she could trail both Alain and Hank at once.

Melina and Hank make an odd pair, Nancy thought. Melina wore a flowing skirt and a wide-brimmed hat, and Hank had on his usual work clothes. She's so elegant and sophisticated; he looks like a cowboy living in Old Tucson. Melina Michaels had revealed very little about herself to anyone. What could she and Hank possibly have in common? Don't be a snob, Nancy told herself.

Nancy followed the pair through the dusty streets. They wound in and out of the old doctor's office, the saloon, the bank, the schoolhouse, and the store selling western wear. Melina and Hank stopped to read the signs explaining which movies had been filmed where. They bought sodas. They acted like all the other tourists. Nancy was beginning to think that trailing Hank was a colossal waste of time. Still, she wasn't ready to give up.

A voice over the PA system announced that a gunfight was about to take place in front of Doc's Apothecary. Nancy watched as Melina and most of the other guests from Solaire congregated in front of the apothecary. Hank,
however, said something to Melina and slipped away, moving in the opposite direction.

Finally! Nancy thought. She followed Hank through the crowds until they reached the side street that had been roped off for filming. To Nancy's surprise, Hank paid no attention to the signs. He walked straight into the roped-off area as if he were part of the movie crew.

The set itself was empty. Like the main street of town, the side street was edged with a line of narrow wooden buildings connected by a rickety-looking second-floor balcony. Across from the buildings was a long watering trough. And at the very end of the street was a fountain and an old Spanish-style mission. An empty stagecoach stood at the side of the mission.

Nancy watched, fascinated, as Hank walked up to the mission, opened the heavy wooden front doors, and let himself in. Was he meeting someone? Was this where Kim Foster was being held?

Nancy glanced around at the empty plaza, then up at the church bell tower. She'd love to ring it and alert someone. Then again, she could always go for help—there were crowds of people nearby on the main street. But if she did that, she might lose Hank.

Quietly, Nancy approached the front of the building. One of the heavy wooden doors was still ajar. She peered inside the church and saw
only darkness. She'd have to go in if she wanted to know what Hank Meader was up to.

Moving as carefully as she could, Nancy inched the door open and stepped inside. She looked around the dark, high-ceilinged room. It was difficult to believe that the old mission wasn't a real church. Candles set in the walls revealed hardwood pews, an altar, and statues of saints. The chapel was hushed and empty. Hank Meader was nowhere to be seen.

Nancy spotted a small door on the back wall. Walking silently, she made her way toward it. Suddenly, a powerful hand clamped down hard over Nancy's mouth, and another hand pinned her arms behind her.