Hidden Meanings (4 page)

S
PRINGING TO HER FEET
, Nancy slipped the Brookfield Academy pen into her pocket. Had Jane Sellery dropped it while breaking into Gina's room? she wondered. She decided to find Sellery and question her.

Nancy swiftly finished her inspection and headed down to the Muskoka Lobby. There, she found Bess sitting alone in the deserted registration area, looking bored. Some fried chicken and cold french fries lay on a plate before her. Bess perked up when she saw Nancy. “What's going on?” she asked.

Nancy pulled a chair close to the table and told Bess the whole story—about the break-in, Gina's accusation against Jane Sellery, and Nancy's finding the Brookfield pen. “I thought you and George could go undercover and help me,” Nancy added.

Bess's eyes sparkled. “You bet!” she agreed. “And George has nothing going on this week—the tennis clinic where she was teaching has ended for the summer. I'll give her a call and ask her to come over right away. She can stop by our houses to pick up some clothes for us.”

“Good,” Nancy said. “Meanwhile, I'd like to question Jane, before I tell Gina I found this pen. Gina's having dinner now, with her roommate and Ned.”

“With Ned?”
Bess almost shrieked. “Are you nuts? Nancy, if I were you, I wouldn't let her within ten feet of my boyfriend.”

Nancy squirmed in her chair. “Believe me, I don't like this setup either,” she admitted. “But I forget to tell you that part—Gina fired her old bodyguard and hired Ned. Just until the conference is over.”

“What!” Bess exclaimed. “How dare she? Well, George and I will help keep an eye on him, don't you worry. Anyway, let me look up Jane Sellery's room number for you.” She turned to glance over the table top. Then she frowned. “Where's the registration list? It was here this evening, before I went up to the banquet to get my dinner.”

“Maybe Mr. Ruxton took it,” Nancy suggested.

“No, he told me it had to stay at the table,” Bess insisted, panic rising in her voice. “This is the master list, where we checked off the names of the participants as they arrived. If I've lost it, he'll think I'm an idiot.”

The two girls began to hunt for the computer printout. They looked through the cardboard cartons of extra registration packets. Then Nancy went around the table, shaking the skirt of the long light-blue cloth draped around it. At a back corner, she found the list on the floor under the table.

“Whew!” Bess exclaimed. “Someone must have knocked it onto the floor.”

“Maybe,” Nancy said grimly. “Or whoever broke into Gina's room took it to get her room number.”

With a sigh, Bess scanned the list. “ ‘Jane Sellery, Room 607,' ” she read.

“Really,” Nancy remarked. “That's right below Gina's room—she's in 707.”

Bess knit her eyebrows. “It might be a coincidence,” she declared. “All the girls are on floors six and seven, and all the boys are on eight and nine, but otherwise the room assignments were random.”

“Okay, so it may not be significant,” Nancy said. “Anyway, you go call George. See if she can meet us in the lobby in an hour.”

“Got it,” Bess said, moving toward a nearby phone.

Nancy said goodbye, then headed for the lobby elevators. She took one up to the sixth floor. Stepping out, she walked down the hall to Room 607 and knocked on the door. There was no answer. As she raised her knuckles to rap again, a gruff voice behind her asked, “Looking for someone?”

Nancy whirled to see a tall girl in a blue cotton dress. Her shoulder-length hair was carrot red. “Jane Sellery?” Nancy asked.

The girl narrowed her eyes. “That's me,” she answered. “What did you want?”

“Um, I was just up in Gina Fiorella's room,” Nancy said, improvising, “and I found this.” She held up the pen. “I thought it might belong to you.”

Jane looked at the pen but didn't take it. “My roommate, Karen, and I both have lots of Brookfield pens,” she said. “But this can't be mine—I haven't been in
her
room.” Her mouth twisted. “Everyone has those pens. Our school gives out tons of them.”

“Just asking,” Nancy said brightly. “Are you coming back from the banquet?”

“The banquet ended half an hour ago,” Jane said. “I went to the pool. I always take a swim after dinner.”

Nancy weighed this story. Jane's hair wasn't even wet, and she was fully dressed, with no towel or wet bathing suit in her hand. Had she really been swimming?

“Nice pool?” Nancy asked, hoping to sound friendly. Jane merely shrugged. Nancy pushed on. “Gina ought to check it out. She sure went swimming in the wrong pool this afternoon!”

Jane smirked. “Served her right,” she muttered.

“You were there? You saw the accident?” Nancy asked in a gossipy-sounding voice. “I only heard about it later.”

“I was just coming in the front door when I heard this splash,” Jane said. “Then I saw Gina climb out of the pool. She was
soaked.
I don't know how it happened—maybe somebody had just had enough of her princessy ways.” Jane started to chuckle, then stopped. “Are you a friend of hers?”

“No way,” Nancy said heartily. “Say, did you hear her room got broken into?”

Jane stifled a smug smile. “Yeah, I heard that. Did all her stuff get ripped off?”

“No, nothing was stolen,” Nancy said. “She has that big suite on the fifth floor, you know.” Nancy watched closely to see if Jane noticed she had given her the wrong information.

Jane snorted. “Like I said, princess all the way,” she remarked. “She couldn't stay in a regular room like the rest of us. Well, don't look at me—I haven't been on the fifth floor at all.”

After saying good night, Nancy returned to the elevators. Back to square one, she thought while she waited. Jane clearly didn't like Gina, but she didn't seem to know anything about the break-in. When the elevator came, Nancy decided to return to the seventh floor to look around some more.

After getting off on seven, Nancy walked down the hall, and noticed that Ned wasn't outside Gina's room. She bit her lip, thinking that Ned and Gina were probably still having dinner. Just then, Nancy saw a short, dark-haired girl in a gray cotton uniform poke her head out of a doorway. The girl, who was about Nancy's age, looked upset.

Nancy walked up. “Hi,” she said, reading the plastic name tag on her uniform, which said Rosita Ortiz. “Can I talk with you, Rosita?”

Rosita quivered. “Are you the girl in Room 707?” she asked softly. “Because I've talked to Mr. Wasilick already. I told him I did not see anything. I was at the other end of the hall.”

Nancy laid a hand gently on Rosita's arm. “I'm a friend of the girl in 707,” she said. “And we just wondered how the thief got in.”

Rosita's dark eyes filled with tears. “I've had my key with me the whole time,” she said. “Please, I do not want to lose my job. I came to America six months ago from Peru and finally found a job. I've worked one week, and now this happens.”

“You won't get fired,” Nancy said soothingly. “I just need help. You know the hotel better than I do. Can you show me around?”

Brushing away her tears, Rosita led Nancy along the corridor to three locked white metal doors that looked almost invisible against the white walls. Inside were large supply closets, with shelves of bed linens, towels, wrapped bars of soap, and other items for the guest rooms, as well as huge canvas hampers filled with dirty sheets and towels.

Rosita took one of the hampers, which was mounted on wheels, and rolled it down the corridor. Near the end, she turned away from the atrium and through a pair of steel doors. Compared to the soft carpet, brass light fixtures, and artwork in the guest area, the back corridor was stark, with bare white walls, fluorescent lights, and a gray linoleum floor, Nancy noticed.

The service corridor ended at a large elevator. Rosita pushed the button, and the doors opened. She rolled the hamper inside. Another staff member, a man in a green coverall, stood next to a plastic bin of garbage.

“I guess I'll leave you here,” Nancy said, wrinkling her nose at the stench. “If you see anything strange, will you be sure to tell me?”

Rosita smiled and nodded as the doors shut.

Nancy made her way back to the guest hallway. Looking down to the door of 707, she saw with a sinking heart that Ned
still
wasn't there. With a sigh, she headed down to the lobby to find Bess and George and to see about their room.

• • •

The next morning Nancy slept late. When she finally woke up, she dressed quickly and went down to the Muskoka Lobby. Once again it was buzzing with activity. Wearing a short red linen skirt and white cotton sweater, Nancy hoped to blend in with the students. Across the lobby she saw Bess at a buffet table, wearing a server's white blouse, black pants, and black bow tie. Pitchers of juice and platters of muffins covered the table, which had been set up for students who had slept late and missed the more elaborate breakfast earlier.

Waving to Bess, Nancy began to mingle with the students. She couldn't see Gina, but she did spot Sally's curly-haired head above the crowd as Sally stepped onto an escalator. Nancy followed her up to the next floor, where several oak-paneled doors and two corridors were visible from the red-carpeted landing.

Each door held a sign indicating which workshop was meeting inside. Nancy followed Sally into a room on the end of one corridor. The sign on the door said Advanced Photography Seminar.

Inside, a dozen students stood around what looked like a private dining room, waiting for the seminar to begin. Seeing Jane Sellery across the room, Nancy waved to her. Then she noticed a door ajar at the far end of the room. She went over and popped her head in. It was a windowless kitchenette that had been turned into a darkroom.

Strips of film hung to dry from clotheslines strung across the tiny darkroom, and next to the sink were pans of liquid developer. Sally was just reaching up to unclip some film from the line.

“Hi, Nancy,” she said, greeting her. “The roll I shot yesterday is ready. Want to see?”

“Sure,” Nancy said. She followed Sally back out to the main room. Sally laid the film down on a metal box that had a frosted glass top and a light below.

“These are just negatives, of course,” Sally said, peering at the film. “I haven't printed anything yet. But I think I got some really good shots of Evan Sharpless on that escalator.”.

Nancy bent over the light box to examine the tiny images, each one less than an inch square. She could just make out a man's shape and the upward slant of an escalator. In each shot, the image changed slightly. The figure moved up the escalator, then onto the mezzanine, with its picture window behind. Sharpless was joined by a shorter figure, wearing baggy pants and with a bushy white beard. Then Nancy remembered that this was a reverse image—in the printed photo, the beard would be dark. She remembered the man she'd seen meeting Sharpless on the mezzanine. She figured he must be a friend of the newsman.

Just then Nancy heard a buzz in the room. She turned and saw Gina stroll in, in a dressy black pants outfit that bared her midriff. Nancy also spied Ned, hanging back by the doorway.

“Gina, look at these cool shots I took of Evan Sharpless,” Sally said eagerly.

Gina leaned over the light table. “Sharpless?” she scoffed. “I don't know why everyone is fawning over him here. He may look good on the TV screen, but I wouldn't call him a reporter.”

“What do you mean?” Sally argued. “He won the Hazelden Prize.” She looked hurt, but Gina didn't seem to notice.

“Well, he must have paid off the judges,” Gina said with a dismissive wave.

“Pay off the judges? That sounds more like your style, Gina,” Jane Sellery said, speaking up from behind.

Whirling around, Gina narrowed her eyes. “I don't need to pay judges to win, Jane,” she said. “Sally and I are creating a yearbook theme display that will amaze everyone. We'll win the top award, fair and square!” With that, she swept out of the room.

Jane chuckled. Sally looked away, embarrassed. “I'd better go,” Nancy murmured, deciding to keep her eye on Ned and Gina. Jane and Sally barely noticed as Nancy slipped away.

Walking down the corridor, Nancy peered into room after room, looking unsuccessfully for Ned and Gina. Finally she checked her copy of the workshop schedule. The students were due to have lunch in fifteen minutes. She went back down the other corridor to the banquet room.

Slipping through the door, Nancy saw Bess laying silverware on the round tables. She spotted George, too, who looked up and waved Nancy in. With her short, dark, curly hair and athletic build, the lifeguard's warm-up outfit looked great on George.

“I'm on my lunch break,” George said. “Any developments?” Nancy had filled her in about the case the night before, as the three girls settled into their hotel room.

Nancy shook her head. “The only thing developing around here is film in the students' darkroom,” she quipped.

A tall, dark-haired young waiter appeared at George's side. “George, you know the rules—no socializing with the hotel guests,” he said, wagging a finger teasingly at her. His hazel eyes sparkled.

“Cut it out, Paul,” George said, grinning. “This is my friend, Nancy. Nancy, this is Paul Lampedusa.”

As Nancy shook his hand, she noticed George blush. So, Nancy thought, George has already met a guy. Well, at least one of us is finding romance.

Just then Bess hurried over. “He's here again!” she moaned. George and Nancy looked toward a nearby doorway. Ralph, the bellman Nancy and Bess had met the previous afternoon, leaned into the room and waved at Bess.

“He won't leave me alone,” Bess said through her teeth as she forced a smile. “I thought being at the hotel would help me see more of Gary Ruxton. I didn't bargain for a lovesick nerd!”