“Are you okay?” he asked when he saw Nancy. “It’s not like you to take a nap.”
Nancy sat down and told him all that had gone on earlier that evening in the restaurant. “The smoke made me a little sick, but I feel fine now.”
“Be careful, Nancy,” her father said, frowning. “This person isn’t fooling around.”
“I’ll use extra caution,” she assured him.
Carson put down his paper and reached over to the table beside the couch. “This evening, when I got home, I dug this out to show you.” He handed Nancy a faded yellow menu.
Nancy studied the front cover. On it was a sketch of a brick building. Striped canopies adorned the windows, and an ornate wooden door graced the main entrance. Written across the top of the menu were the words Chez Jacques. “This is a picture of the Arizona House, right?” Nancy asked in surprise.
“Back when it was Chez Jacques,” Carson said. “It looks pretty different, I guess.”
“I can see that Shawn’s made a lot of changes,” Nancy agreed. “Why do you have this?”
Carson shrugged. “Oh, it was some fancy law association dinner. Your mother had it tucked away in a scrapbook.”
Nancy opened the menu and looked at the prices. “This must have been the cheapest place in town.”
Her father laughed. “It was the fanciest, most expensive place in town. Those were high prices in those days.”
Turning the menu over, Nancy saw a black and white photo of a man on the back cover. He was short but handsome, with a full head of dark hair. Above his picture it said “Jacques Henri wishes his customers bon appetit!”
Nancy studied the photo. Something about the man’s face had caught her attention. His dark, intense eyes seemed to bore right into her.
“It’s Jack,” she said finally, looking up at her father. “I met him today. He’s the dessert chef. He’s much older now, but I’m sure this is him.”
Carson Drew took the menu from Nancy. “Now that you mention it, I believe Chez Jacques was famous for its great desserts.”
“Hmmm,” Nancy mused, sitting down on the couch. “And now the tables have turned, and Jack is working for someone else. I wonder why he no longer owns the restaurant?”
“I’m sure you’ll find out tomorrow,” said her father, kissing her lightly on the forehead. “Now I’m going to bed. You’re sure you feel all right?”
“Fine,” she answered. “Good night, Dad.”
Nancy sat up on the couch and continued to gaze at the menu. Her short nap had restored her energy. Now she was restless and eager to solve this case. “I won’t be able to sleep, anyway,” she told herself as she got off the couch and hurried up to her room.
In minutes, she had pulled on a pair of black leggings, a long-sleeved black top, and a pair of black high-top sneakers. Tying her hair back with a wide black band, she checked her image in the mirror. “Dressed for a stakeout,” she said with a grin. Nancy buckled a small black leather pouch around her waist and put in her wallet, car keys, a lock-picking kit, and a pocket flashlight.
Downstairs, Nancy left her father a note, then headed out the door to her car.
Nancy drove as quickly as the speed limit allowed. Within ten minutes, she pulled into the parking lot of the Arizona House, just as Shawn was driving out from the back lot in his white compact station wagon. “What are you doing here?” he asked, pulling up alongside her.
Nancy realized she’d miscalculated. She had expected the restaurant to be empty by eleven, especially since there’d been no dinner seating. “I thought I’d come by and just watch the place for a while,” she said. “I wanted to see if anyone showed up. Aren’t you here sort of late?”
“I was working with the cleanup crew,” Shawn replied. “They all left about ten minutes ago. What a job! But we’ll be able to open for lunch tomorrow.”
Nancy shut off the ignition and climbed out of her car. “Shawn, what can you tell me about Jack?”
“Jack?” Shawn echoed. “Well, as you may have already discovered, Jack used to own this place. He and my father were partners, actually. When Dad died, Jack couldn’t manage alone. He’s not really a businessman. The place went into a slide. I inherited Dad’s half of the restaurant, but I was too young to help out then. Three months ago, when I got out of culinary school, I made Jack an offer to buy out his half of the business. The restaurant had closed and had been up for sale for three years. By the time I came along, Jack was out of money. I couldn’t pay top dollar, but in the long run Jack accepted my offer and sold me his half.”
“Why is he working for you?” Nancy asked.
“He’s the greatest pastry and dessert chef around,” Shawn explained. “He needed a job, and I was glad to have him. Why? Do you suspect him?”
“Everybody’s a suspect to me,” Nancy said with a smile. “Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”
“You asked if anyone had a grudge against me,” Shawn reminded her, “and Jack doesn’t. I think he was relieved to get the old restaurant off his hands.” Shawn folded his arms and looked at Nancy sharply. “What exactly were you hoping to accomplish tonight?”
“Whoever is harassing you could be getting in at night,” she replied. “So I thought I’d hide my car in the back, behind the dumpster, then wait to see if anyone shows up. But since you’re still here, you can let me inside. That’s even better.”
“No way,” Shawn said firmly. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’ll hide,” Nancy said with a shrug. “The person won’t even see me. That’s why I’m dressed in black,” she added.
“I thought you were just being chic,” Shawn teased.
“Very funny,” Nancy said with a wry smile. “So, you’ll let me in?”
“No. In fact, I insist you go home. I don’t want you hanging out in the parking lot, either. Catch this person in the daylight with lots of people around. Not alone in the dark.”
Nancy could see Shawn wasn’t budging from his position. Still, she was determined to get into that restaurant. “All right,” she said, pretending to give in. “But as long as I’m here, I left my sweater inside, in the coatroom—mind if I get it?”
“Of course not,” Shawn said, getting out of his car and walking with her to the door. Taking a set of keys from his jacket pocket, he unlocked it. “Want me to turn on some lights?” he offered.
“No, I’m okay,” Nancy said, stepping into the dark restaurant. “It’s just in the coatroom.”
“I’ll wait for you by my car,” Shawn called as he headed toward the parking lot.
“Okay,” Nancy said, shutting the door. Earlier that evening, with the trained instincts of an experienced detective, she had noted that the front door could be set to lock automatically when the door was pulled shut. Just as she’d suspected, the lock was set to close by itself. With a click, she turned the rectangular metal piece on the lock so that the door would stay unlocked when she closed it behind her.
A few moments later, Nancy came out of the restaurant. “It’s not there,” she told Shawn, who was leaning on the hood of his car. “I was wrong.”
“Just shut the door,” Shawn said. “It will lock behind you.”
Nancy shut the door, then headed to her Mustang. “See you tomorrow,” she said.
“Good night,” Shawn replied, getting into his car.
Nancy pulled away first. When she was about a half mile from the restaurant, she shut off her lights and pulled into a dark drive that led to an abandoned barn. Crouched low in her seat, Nancy waited. In a few moments, Shawn drove past.
When he was safely down the road, Nancy flicked her headlights back on and headed toward the restaurant once again.
Pulling into the lot behind the Arizona House, Nancy hid her car in back of a large garbage dumpster. It was a dark night. Nancy looked up at the sky and saw that clouds covered the moon and stars. Thinking it was safe to cut across the parking lot, Nancy ran toward the restaurant.
She was halfway
across the lot, and there wasn’t another person in sight. The only sound was the leaves rustling in the breeze.
Suddenly, a brilliant light flashed in her eyes.
Nancy gasped and stood still, blinded by the light.
5
Night Visitors
Nancy shielded her eyes with her hand, then looked around sharply, braced for anything. Her heart was pounding as she searched the parking lot. Ahead of her, she found the source of the blinding light. A large floodlight was mounted at the corner of the restaurant.
“A motion-detector light,” Nancy told herself, letting her breath out in a whoosh of relief. The light had a sensor that detected any movement. It went on automatically when anyone approached.
Nancy backed out of the light’s field and was again enveloped in darkness as the bulb snapped off. Quickly, she ran to the front of the building and slipped in through the open door. She listened a minute and heard nothing but the low hum of an ice-making machine in the lounge. The restaurant was quiet and apparently empty.
Nancy knew she should find a place to hide, in case someone did show up. The dining room would be a central location. Her eyes soon adjusted to the darkness, and she found her way into the dining room without using her flashlight.
Suddenly there was a huge crash!
Nancy’s heart leaped into her throat. She stood, frozen. The sound had come from the kitchen.
Regaining her composure, Nancy quietly made her way to the kitchen door and cautiously pushed it open. Peering in, she saw only a silent kitchen gently illuminated by the red glow of the exit sign above the back door.
Just then, Nancy gasped and jumped back. A small dark shadow had scurried right past her feet. A mouse, she realized. She knew that a mouse, drawn by the smell of food, could make its way into the cleanest of kitchens. Still, Nancy was surprised. Shawn’s kitchen was so spotless, and all of the food was stored away efficiently.
Peering into the darkness, she saw something lying on the floor near one of the counters. It looked like a box of some kind.
Nancy cocked her head and listened hard. There was no sign of life in the kitchen. If someone had been there, he or she could have run out the back door. Nancy took her penlight from her leather pouch and aimed it on the box. It was actually a crudely made mesh cage about the size of a small microwave oven. The crash she’d heard must have been the cage falling from the counter. Had it been set too precariously at the edge? Or had someone jostled it?
Summoning her nerve, Nancy stepped into the dark kitchen and flashed her light around the room. It seemed empty. A chill suddenly ran up Nancy’s arm. Looking to her right, she saw that the door to the large steel walk-in refrigerator was open.
Instantly, Nancy snapped off her penlight. Perhaps the culprit was busy inside and hadn’t even noticed her light. Quietly, she crept toward the open door, then stood behind it and listened.
Scritch-scritch-scratch.
A strange scuffling, scratching sound was all Nancy heard. Carefully, she peeked around the corner. The refrigerator was loaded with crates of fruits, vegetables, dairy products, and other supplies. No one appeared to be inside. Yet the scuffling sound continued.
Once again snapping on her penlight, Nancy saw three mice gnawing at a large net bag of apples. The minute her light shone on them, they scurried away, disappearing behind the crates, boxes, and bags that lined the walls.
Nancy stepped into the doorway. The walk-in fridge was the size of a small room, but it was crammed with supplies, leaving very little room for a person to move around inside.
“Of course,” Nancy said out loud as she continued to sweep her light around the refrigerator. It made sense, all right. This was the latest sabotage. Someone had released mice in the kitchen and left this door open.
It was perfect. Not only would the mice destroy the restaurant’s food supplies, but Shawn would have to close down while an exterminator rid his place of the rodents.
Suddenly a warning chill shot up Nancy’s spine. She could feel that someone was close by. But before Nancy could even turn, two strong hands closed over her shoulders and shoved her into the refrigerator. The force of the action sent her crashing to her knees.
Slam! The refrigerator door swung shut.
Nancy scrambled to her feet and threw her weight against the inside handle. The door wouldn’t budge. “Hey!” she called to her attacker. “Let me out of here!”
Her cries were met with deadly silence.
Panic gripped Nancy for a moment, but she quickly pushed it away. There’s got to be a way out of here, Nancy thought as she scanned the walls and ceiling with her flashlight. Her beam shone on a small red button with the word “alarm” written on it.
Climbing onto a crate of tomatoes, Nancy reached up and pressed the button. A clattering ring sounded outside the refrigerator. She pressed her thumb into the button and held it there. The ring persisted, but no one came.
This is dumb, Nancy decided, lowering herself off the crate. The only one who can hear this alarm is the person who pushed me in here.
Nancy blew on her hands for warmth. A smoky cloud of breath formed in the air. Her cotton shirt and leggings were no protection against this kind of extreme cold. Her teeth were already chattering.
And then there was the question of air. Nancy wasn’t sure how much she had left in the small space. She was sure of one thing, though. By the time someone found her the next morning, she would be in pretty bad shape. That was, if there was enough air to get her through the night.
A sound in the corner made Nancy jump. The mice, she remembered. Normally, she wasn’t squeamish about the furry little creatures. But being locked in such small quarters with them was a different story. She’d have to try not to think about it.
A mouse ran quickly across the floor and darted behind a crate. She’d have to try very hard.
Settling uncomfortably on the edge of another crate, Nancy tried to formulate a plan. She’d been in tough spots before. And if she’d learned anything, it was to stay calm and think clearly. If she let panic get the better of her, it would be all over.
Just then the door handle clicked. Nancy’s nerves tingled as she stepped back, preparing to confront whoever stepped through the door.
With a creak, the heavy door fell open a crack, but no one appeared. Nancy realized someone was letting her out but was not going to show him or herself. He or she might be sneaking out of the kitchen right now.
“Stop!” Nancy cried, bounding out of the refrigerator.
A shadowy figure was already near the back of the kitchen. A moment later, Nancy heard the door slam as the culprit dashed outside.
Racing across the kitchen, Nancy pulled the door open in time to see a man caught in the beam of the motion detector light. For a second she saw him—short and broad-shouldered with a dark knit hat covering his hair. In the next moment, he ran out of the light’s field. The light snapped off, and he was engulfed in darkness.
Nancy chased him out into the lot. The light snapped on as she stood beneath it, and she could see that the lot was empty. No car engine sounded. The man seemed to have disappeared into the night air.
A fat raindrop hit Nancy’s brow, and a sprinkling of drops began to fall around her. She turned and went back into the restaurant. She had to call Shawn and tell him what she’d discovered. Someone had to catch those mice!
Deciding to use the phone in Shawn’s office, Nancy headed across the dining room and up the stairs.
Inside the office, she clicked on the overhead light, then made her way to the phone. Fortunately, Shawn’s number was one of five numbers listed on his instant-dial machine. Three other numbers belonged to food, linen, and beverage suppliers. The fourth was marked Loreen.
Nancy hit the button marked Home, and the phone automatically dialed Shawn. “Hello, this is Shawn. I can’t come to the phone right now . . . ” his answering machine responded.
Nancy spoke when the machine’s tone sounded. “Shawn, th
is is Nancy. There’s trouble at the restaurant. I’ll wait for you here another half hour. After that, call me at home.”
She left her number, hung up the phone, and settled into Shawn’s swiveling leather office chair. I’ve seen that man who ran from the kitchen before, she mused. Yet she couldn’t remember where.
Resting her head back on the chair, Nancy closed her eyes. She let the image of the man running through the parking lot play through her head. She saw his shoulders, his black shirt, his knit hat.
This mental instant replay revealed something to her that she’d missed. She had seen the man’s sideburns and the back of his hair. His hair was silvery gray.
Nancy’s eyes flew open. “Jack!” It wasn’t just the hair. It was his build, his way of moving, everything. She was sure it was him.
“Case closed,” she said, getting out of the chair. “Almost.” She still needed a motive. It probably had something to do with Shawn’s deal with Jack. Maybe Jack thought Shawn had underpaid him and he was getting even. Perhaps there were bad feelings between Shawn and Jack, something Shawn was too embarrassed to reveal.
Nancy was no longer content to sit and wait for Shawn. Why wasn’t he home? Maybe he was home but had gone to sleep. Nancy debated driving to his house and waking him up. Surely he’d want to know what she’d uncovered.
Turning off the light, Nancy headed back down the stairs. As she opened the front door, she saw that the rainstorm was in full fury, spattering the front lot with its driving torrents.
Nancy was about to dash to her car when she remembered the open refrigerator door. There was no sense letting all Shawn’s food spoil.
Closing the front door gently, she turned back toward the kitchen. A clap of thunder exploded overhead, followed by the flash of jagged lightning in the windows.
In that split second of brightness, Nancy spotted another dark figure in the dining room!
Nancy flattened herself against the hallway wall. Her heart was hammering in her ears as she wondered if the intruder had heard her. She hoped that the thunder and rain had masked the sound of her footsteps.
The Case of the Artful Crime Page 4
