Hot Pursuit

by Carolyn Keene

  Stunned, Nancy stared at the camera lying in the sand, then at the dark-haired man who’d knocked it out of her hands. He was in his forties or fifties and was panting as if he’d run across the beach just to knock the camera out of her hands.

  “What did I tell you?” he growled at Eva, his face a bright red that almost matched his striped red and white swim trunks.

  “But, Papa, they are my friends,” Eva explained, tears glimmering in her dark eyes.

  Nancy felt a rush of anger. Not only had Mr. Rivera rudely knocked George’s camera to the ground, now he was humiliating his daughter. She didn’t see what the big deal was. It was only a picture. . . .

  Mr. Rivera said something to Eva in rapid-fire Spanish. With downcast eyes, she turned and ran up the flower-lined path toward the hotel.

  George picked up the camera and brushed a clump of sand from it, and Eva’s father paused to ask in a harsh voice, “Is it broken?”

  George peered through the lens, then snapped a random picture. “I don’t think so.”

  With a brisk nod, he turned and marched back to the hotel.

  “What a grouch,” said Bess, her pale blue eyes following Mr. Rivera’s retreating back.

  “Looks like we got Eva in trouble,” Nancy said thoughtfully, “though I can’t imagine what we did to make her father so angry.”

  • • •

  “That’s the fifth outfit you’ve tried on, Bess,” Nancy said, glancing down at the clothes strewn over her friend’s bed.

  The girls had all showered after returning to their room, and Nancy was now in a white linen sleeveless dress that showed off her new tan. George had on yellow shorts and a colorful Hawaiian shirt. Now the two girls were sitting on Nancy’s bed, watching the pile of discarded clothes on Bess’s bed grow.

  “It’s a good thing we’re just going to dinner,” George cracked to Bess. “If this were a special occasion, it would take you until the end of our vacation to find an outfit!”

  “But it is a special occasion,” Bess insisted, fussing with the belt of a green silk dress and looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the outside of the bathroom door. “I have to look my best. Word has it that the Hot Rods will be arriving any minute!”

  Getting up from the bed, Nancy said, “Well, let me know when you’re ready to make your debut. I’m going to wait out on the balcony.”

  Outside, the trade winds, gently rustling through the palm trees, lifted the ends of Nancy’s reddish blond hair. She was glad to have a room on the second story because the balcony overlooked one of the rocky sea cliffs, and the view was breathtaking. Leaning on the balcony railing, she could see pretty, thatched-roof huts and gardens as well as the sea and the full moon that now hung low in the darkening evening sky. The scent of roses and hibiscus and jasmine filled the air, mixing with the salty freshness of the sea.

  As Nancy stood there gazing out at the dark horizon, a sudden movement caught her eye. The shadowy figures of three men emerged from a thatched-roof hut near the edge of the cliff. Peering at the small stucco building, Nancy saw that it had no windows. There was one door that she could see, and the far side of the hut seemed to be wedged right against a cluster of rocks.

  With the help of the moonlight, she could make out the three men fairly well. Nancy could tell, from his uniform, that one man had to be a resort employee. The other two were wearing suits and carrying luggage. They appeared to be young and good-looking, with dark hair.

  Nancy followed their progress until they disappeared around a bend. What were they doing coming out of a hut without windows? she wondered. Hotel guests wouldn’t be staying in a place like that. She turned as George stepped out onto the balcony behind her.

  “I think Bess has narrowed it down to two dresses,” George said, sitting down in a wicker chair, the hotel guidebook in her hand.

  “Does that guide have a map of the resort in it?” Nancy asked.

  “Sure.” George handed the book to Nancy. “What are you looking for?”

  “I’m just curious about that hut near the edge of the cliff.” Nancy’s finger traced the area of the map until she found the small building she was looking for. “This says that it’s a maintenance shed, but I just saw some guys coming out of it with their arms full of luggage.”

  “That’s strange,” agreed George. “Are you sure you’ve got the right spot on the map?”

  Nancy was about to check the map again when Bess appeared on the balcony. “Tah-dah!” she announced, making a pirouette to show off her black linen miniskirt and sleeveless red top. “Ready!”

  “Great!” George jumped out of her chair. “Quick, Nancy. Let’s go before she changes her mind again.”

  As they left their room, Nancy asked, “Do you mind if we drop by Eva’s room first? I’d like to smooth things over with her father if we can.”

  “That’s a good idea,” George said. “She’s staying in this wing of the hotel. Room 108.”

  The girls went down the stairs and found the Riveras’ room on the first floor. As Nancy knocked on the door, it swung open.

  Surprised, she called out, “Hello? Eva?” and peered inside.

  “Can I help you?” A smiling maid appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. She was holding a stack of fresh towels.

  “We were looking for our friend, Eva Rivera,” Nancy said, stepping into the room, Bess and George right behind her.

  “Rivera,” the woman said, shaking her head. “No, she’s checked out.”

  “Checked out?” Bess asked, looking confused.

  “But she and her father just arrived this morning,” George added.

  Nancy shared her friends’ surprise. Why would Eva and her father leave the resort after just one day?

  Chapter

  Three

  NANCY TRIED to ask the maid some more questions, but it was obvious the woman didn’t know any of the details. Feeling disappointed, the girls left.

  “It’s a shame about Eva,” George said as they walked past a fountain in the main lobby. “Maybe there was a family emergency.”

  “Maybe,” Nancy said. Still, something about the girl’s sudden departure—and Mr. Rivera’s outburst on the beach—bothered her. Nancy paused and glanced at the reception desk.

  “Why don’t you two go ahead and save me a place,” she suggested. “I just want to check here to see if the hotel has some information about why the Riveras left.”

  The woman at the front desk was polite and efficient. After Nancy explained the situation, the receptionist turned to the keyboard of the hotel’s computer and entered Eva’s name. “There was a Rivera registered here,” she told Nancy after a moment. “They checked out late this afternoon.”

  “But they just arrived this morning,” Nancy explained. “Do you know why they left so soon?”

  The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, miss. My shift just started twenty minutes ago, so I wasn’t here when they checked out. But short stays aren’t really that unusual.”

  Nancy frowned. Why would someone take the trouble of flying to the Caribbean for a single day? It didn’t make any sense. Looking at the woman behind the reception desk, Nancy asked one more question. “Can you please see if she left a message for me and my friends? She was supposed to meet us this evening.”

  The receptionist checked the computer again but found nothing. Frustrated, Nancy thanked the clerk and turned away. The lobby was lined with desks for representatives from airlines, travel agencies, and taxi services. When Nancy noticed a man in a khaki-colored uniform sitting behind a desk labeled Carib Air Taxi, she walked over to him and asked if he knew anything about the Riveras’ sudden departure.

  “I may have seen the girl you’re looking for,” the man told her. “I was on duty for our four o’clock flight. And I think I do remember your friend—Rivera, you said, right?”

  Nancy nodded. “Did you happen to learn why they were leaving?”

  The agent shrugged. “I’m afraid not, miss. There w
as no time to chat with your friend and her father. They booked late. Actually, they almost missed the flight. They rushed in and boarded the plane at the last minute.”

  Nancy couldn’t be positive, but it seemed as if the Riveras had intended to stay longer but for some reason had changed their plans. Surely Eva wouldn’t have agreed to meet them that night if she had known she was going to be leaving. Why, then, had they left?

  Nancy shook her head. She was sorry that Eva was gone, but that didn’t mean anything terrible had happened. Pineapple Grove was a busy resort, and people did come and go every day. She decided that her detective’s imagination was running away with her.

  Thanking the booking agent, she stepped away from his small desk. A crowd had collected in the lobby, and Nancy noticed a flurry of excitement around the reception desk. Huge black amplifiers and cases of sound equipment were stacked against one wall of the lobby.

  Nancy grinned. It looked as if the Hot Rods had finally arrived. The blond guy leaning over the check-in desk certainly looked like Tucker Dawson, the band’s drummer. The squeals and shrieks of some teenage girls who’d collected in the lobby confirmed it.

  “Look! It’s Tucker Dawson,” shouted one girl.

  “Can I have your autograph?” a freckle-faced girl asked, rushing up beside the drummer. “I’m your biggest fan. Really and truly!”

  Suddenly everyone in the lobby was rushing over to the reception desk to catch a glimpse of Tucker. Nancy thought of running to get Bess and George, but she realized that the guys would probably be gone by the time her friends made it back.

  “Oh!” Something poked Nancy in the back, causing her to spin around. She found herself face-to-face with a cute red-haired guy dressed in a red cotton rugby shirt, plaid shorts, and worn leather Docksiders.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to run into you with my violin case.” He gestured at the black case that obviously held a guitar.

  Nancy guessed right away that he was the band’s leader, Woody Neal. “That’s an awfully big violin,” Nancy teased.

  “Yes, well, classical music just isn’t what it used to be.” His smile was wholesome and carefree. “I’m Woody Neal, and this is my friend, Ricky Angeles.” He pointed to a dark-haired guy who was propping his guitar case against a nearby rubber plant. Some fans had just come up and were hovering excitedly behind him. “He plays the oboe. And you are?”

  “Nancy Drew.” She smiled at the guys, enjoying the joke. “And I play the kazoo.”

  “Perfect!” Woody exclaimed. “We’ve been looking for a redheaded kazoo player. So tell us, Nancy, is Pineapple Grove really a slice of paradise, like it says in the pamphlets?”

  “It’s pretty close,” Nancy admitted. Staring into Woody’s sparkling green eyes, she could understand what Courtney saw in him. “There’s swimming and snorkeling on the beach. And—”

  She was interrupted when Tucker Dawson and the hotel clerk joined them. A handful of staff members were helping to keep curious fans from getting too close. Clearing her throat, the hotel clerk said politely, “Steven Gibbs asked me to extend his personal invitation to a party being held in your honor. It’s at nine on the Palm Terrace. Can we count on you to attend?”

  “Sure,” Woody replied. Turning to Nancy, he said, “I hope you’re planning on going, too.”

  Nancy hesitated for a moment. “I don’t want to intrude. Besides, I’m here with two friends.”

  “Bring them along,” Woody insisted.

  “Don’t think he’s kidding,” Ricky added. “He’ll be devastated if you don’t show up.”

  “And don’t forget your kazoo,” Woody called back over his shoulder as he turned to follow the bellhop across the lobby. “See you at the party!” He ducked through a doorway just as a new pack of girls entered the lobby.

  “There they are!” cried a petite blond girl. “Don’t lose them!”

  Shaking her head, Nancy darted off to the dining room to join her friends. When Bess heard about the party, she was going to be in seventh heaven!

  • • •

  “Everything looks so romantic,” Bess said, seated at a table on the terrace a couple of hours later.

  Nancy had to agree. The rooftop terrace was softly lit with tiny white lights strewn through the palm trees and tabletop candles in hurricane globes. Taking a sip of her fruit punch, Nancy watched other guests wait their turn to speak to the band members.

  “That’s Enrique Angeles. Everyone calls him Ricky. He plays the bass,” Bess explained to no one in particular. “People say he’s the soul of the band. And that tall, gorgeous blond is the drummer, Tucker Dawson. He’s the one I’m dying to meet.” Bess’s blue eyes became glazed and dreamy-looking as she stared at the drummer. “I can’t wait to go over and meet them, but there are still too many people.”

  After a while the crowd around the band began to thin out, and Nancy saw the Hot Rods begin to wander through the terrace, stopping now and then to talk to fans and sign autographs.

  “Now’s my chance,” Bess said excitedly. But before she could even stand up, she added in a shrill whisper, “I don’t believe it—they’re coming over here!”

  Turning in her rattan chair, Nancy saw that Woody had spotted her and was waving. She waved back, and he jogged over to the girls’ table and squeezed a chair in between Nancy and George.

  “It’s Nancy Drew and her kazoo-playing friends,” Woody teased. “Listen, you guys have got to bail me out. I’m being attacked by a pack of mad fans who want autographs for all their distant relatives. Mmm, those look great.” He grabbed a couple of appetizers from the center of the table and popped them in his mouth.

  “Woody Neal, meet my friends Bess Marvin and George Fayne,” Nancy said with a smile.

  “Hey, man,” came a husky voice behind them. “Trying to keep all the beautiful girls to yourself?”

  From the look of total amazement on Bess’s face, Nancy knew the voice belonged to Tucker Dawson. Sure enough, when she turned, she saw the tall, solidly built drummer smiling down at them. After Woody introduced him, Tucker pulled up a chair next to Bess’s. Nancy thought Bess would probably faint when he started talking to her about their new video.

  Smiling, Nancy turned back to the others. Woody was talking to George. He stopped suddenly in midsentence to stare at something over Nancy’s shoulder. He became distracted, and his joking mood vanished.

  Nancy stole a glance behind her and saw Courtney Brooks, who was talking to Steve Gibbs. He was whispering in her ear just then, and she was laughing. They seemed so close and cozy that Nancy wondered if there was something between them. From the brooding expression on Woody’s face, Nancy knew that he wasn’t exactly thrilled by the scene.

  “Excuse me,” Woody said suddenly. After pushing back from the table, he stormed toward the closest exit.

  Tucker stopped talking when he saw Woody leave. Then he spotted Courtney. “Oh, no—not again,” he grumbled. “That girl has plagued us ever since she started dating Woody.”

  “You mean Courtney?” George asked, following his gaze. “But I thought they broke up.”

  Tucker frowned. “Doesn’t matter. Some old flames never die. What’s she doing here, anyway?”

  “She’s the featured singer for the opening of the new nightclub here,” Bess explained.

  While Bess and George talked with Tucker, Nancy excused herself and went to get a glass of punch. On her way back to the table, she saw Courtney standing alone next to a thick oleander bush at the edge of the terrace. She was staring at the round orange moon.

  The singer frowned when she saw Nancy. “Guess you think I’m a party crasher.” Before Nancy could respond, she explained, “I saw Woody storm out.” Courtney’s hands were shaking, and Nancy could tell she was genuinely upset. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come tonight. But I thought Woody and I could start fresh—at least be friends. Instead, the other guys will say it’s my fault that Woody ran out of here.”

  “He didn’t seem too
happy about seeing you with Steven Gibbs,” Nancy said.

  “Steve?” Courtney seemed surprised. “Oh, we’re just friends. I’d feel awful if Woody got the wrong impression about Steve and me. I wish I could make him understand how I feel.”

  Nancy looked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “I . . .” Courtney paused and took a deep breath. “I guess you could say that I’m still in love with Woody. He’s a great guy, Nancy.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “But I’m not in love with his band, and while Woody and I were together, he would always take the guys’ side instead of mine. He didn’t trust me.”

  Nancy couldn’t imagine what she would do if Ned didn’t take her side and trust her. “I can see how that would hurt,” she said sincerely.

  “The other guys in the band never even liked having me around. They thought I was trying to butt in on their business decisions. In the end, Woody had to decide between them and me.”

  “It must have been a tough choice.”

  Courtney nodded, then sighed. “I suppose I’d better call it a night—before I cause any more trouble,” she said with a bitter laugh.

  Nancy watched as the blond singer made her way through the crowd to the exit. It was a shame that Courtney and Woody couldn’t resolve their differences, she thought, taking a sip of her punch. She leaned against the terrace railing to enjoy the view for a moment. This side of the Palm Terrace offered the same view of the cliffs and bay that the girls had from the balcony of their room, only the angle was slightly different.

  A sudden movement below caught Nancy’s eye. She focused on the spot and made out three figures, all coming out of the same windowless hut she’d noticed earlier. The figures were loaded down with baggage, just as the people she’d seen earlier had been. From that distance Nancy couldn’t tell if they were hotel staff or guests, or even if they were the same people. She did notice something else just then—bright flashes of light were coming from under the door of the hut.

  Nancy squinted, trying to get a better look, but it was too dark. What could be going on down there at that hour? It was after eleven.