Why do I feel as if I’ve just been conned? Nancy wondered. “Jacqueline,” she said impulsively, “does the name Jeunesse mean anything to you?”
“Of course. It’s a French word that means youth,” Jacqueline replied.
“I meant Jeunesse cosmetics,” Nancy said. “Have you ever heard of them, maybe while you were living in Paris?”
Jacqueline gave a soft laugh. “When I lived in Paris, I was a model. I used every cosmetic on the market. I never distinguished one brand from the other. All I remember is that the makeup artists took entirely too long to get me ready for the cameras.”
“Laurent,” Nancy asked, “have you ever heard of Jeunesse cosmetics?”
“I’m afraid not,” he replied, smoothly taking Nancy by the arm and escorting her to the door. “Good night, mademoiselles.”
Nancy’s level of frustration rose another notch when she found Alain and his guard dog waiting outside the door.
“Bon soir, Alain,” Bess greeted him.
“Bon soir,” he replied, smiling.
“Since when did Bess learn to speak French?” George whispered to Nancy.
Nancy shrugged and turned her attention to Alain. “We appreciate the escort,” she said, “but we can find our way back to the casita on our own.”
“I’m sure you can,” Alain replied. “However, Solaire believes in protecting its guests at all times.”
“And making them feel like prisoners,” George muttered as the four of them began walking toward the casita. “Look.” She pointed to several shadowy figures in the distance. “There are three other staff members patrolling the grounds with dogs. Are you guys expecting an armed invasion?”
“These are normal security measures,” Alain said. “Please don’t be alarmed. I assure you, they are for your own good.”
Alain, Nancy thought, was about as informative and truthful as Laurent. Still, since he insisted on walking them back to the casita, she might as well try to get some information. “So, how is Whitney?” she asked.
“Whitney pulled a shoulder ligament,” Alain replied. “She may be a bit uncomfortable for a while, but Dr. Benay says her arm should heal perfectly. I believe Whitney’s decided to return home tomorrow.” He shrugged as they reached the casita. “It was a most unfortunate accident.”
“Except that it wasn’t an accident,” Nancy said.
Alain’s eyes met hers with something that might have been respect, but his words were a warning. “I would suggest, Ms. Drew,” he said softly, “that you keep your opinions to yourself.”
They entered the room, and George shut the door on Alain with a thump.
“George,” Bess said, “you don’t have to be so rude.”
“Me?” George asked. “Alain practically threatens Nancy and you’re calling me rude?”
“It wasn’t a threat,” Bess insisted.
“Let’s not argue about Alain right now,” Nancy said. “There’s a phone call I have to make before I forget the number.”
She took the phone from the bedside table and dialed the number she’d memorized from Kim’s employment application. On the other end of the line, an answering machine came on, telling Nancy she’d reached the Foster residence. Nancy sighed and left her number, hoping Kim’s family would call back.
The phone rang a few hours later, just as the girls were dropping off to sleep. “Mrs. Foster?” Nancy asked eagerly.
“No,” said a dry voice at the other end of the line. “It’s your father. Will that do?”
“Dad!” Nancy exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’re getting back to me so soon.”
“Well, it sounded pretty urgent,” Carson Drew said. “So I called a few friends, here and in Paris, and got some information. First, I checked out the Roziers. The two of them ran a very exclusive spa on the island of St. Martin, also called Spa Solaire. That’s apparently where Laurent developed his line of cosmetics.”
“That’s pretty much what I read in the Solaire brochures,” Nancy said with a sigh. “Did you find any information on what they were doing before St. Martin?”
Her father gave a soft laugh. “Now, that’s rather interesting. About five years before the Roziers showed up in St. Martin, Jacqueline officially retired as one of Paris’s leading fashion models. She wasn’t married to Laurent then. She was simply known as Jacqueline. And then, it seems, she dropped off the face of the planet. There’s no more information about her until she showed up in St. Martin with Laurent three years ago, purchased an old resort, and opened the first Solaire.”
“What about Laurent?” Nancy asked.
“Again, nothing,” Carson Drew replied. “All I found was a marriage certificate.”
“And Heather Sinclair?”
“Five years ago, she and several others sued Jeunesse. Heather had developed a severe eye infection after using their mascara, and she eventually went blind. Another American, a young model who was working in Paris, had such a severe allergic reaction to the Jeunesse cold cream that it left her skin permanently scarred. Her career was ruined. Jeunesse paid the immediate medical costs and agreed to a hefty settlement. But the settlement was never paid.”
“Why not?” Nancy asked, her curiosity growing.
“Well, one day there was a Jeunesse and the next day, the company was gone. The office was empty, the bank accounts were closed, and the staff was gone.”
“Who was the owner?” Nancy asked.
“A chemist named Pierre Dennon, who also pulled a disappearing act,” Carson Drew replied. “His car went off a cliff and exploded. No one ever found the body.”
“Dad,” Nancy said slowly, “do you think Pierre Dennon could be Laurent Rozier?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” her father said.
Nancy had one more question. “And what happened to Heather Sinclair?”
“Another mystery,” Carson Drew answered. “She returned to the States, but her father, Henry, had sold his ranch. There’s no other record of them in Arizona. I’ll have to keep working on it.”
“Thanks for all your help, Dad,” Nancy said. “I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”
She placed the phone receiver back on the hook and glanced over at Bess and George. Both of her friends were sound asleep. She’d have to wait until morning to fill them in on the latest news. Maybe that was just as well. It was going to take her a while to put all of the pieces together.
• • •
Nancy woke up the next morning to find Bess already dressed in her workout clothes, doing leg lifts on the floor. Bess was definitely losing weight, Nancy saw, but there were dark shadows under her friend’s eyes. For someone who’d just gotten up, Bess looked exhausted. “Isn’t it a little early for exercise?” Nancy asked.
George opened one eye. “It definitely is.”
“There’s no time to waste,” Bess said. “Alain gave me all these exercises for toning and calorie-burning. I won’t lose weight unless I do them.”
Nancy got out of bed and searched for her clothes. “But you’ve got a whole day of exercise scheduled already,” she said to Bess. “Aren’t you overdoing all of this?”
“Alain says, ‘Listen to your body. It always knows,’ ” Bess quoted. “And what my body knows right now is that it can’t wait to be thin. All this exercise feels fantastic!”
George sat up and threw her pillow at Bess. “Come on, Bess. Give it up.”
Bess raised her chin. “You’re just jealous, because for once I’m working out harder than you are!”
George sighed and climbed out of bed. “Okay, Bess, maybe you’re right. I might as well join you. They’re going to rename this place ‘Spa Kill-aire.’ ”
An hour later, after another minuscule breakfast, the three girls reported to the gym, where a small group had already gathered.
“Good morning, everyone,” Alain said. “We’re going to start outside today, with a little run around the grounds.”
“A little run?” echoed one
of the guests. “These grounds cover more than a hundred acres.”
Rhonda Wilkins was already jogging in place. She looked even more exhausted than Bess, Nancy thought.
“Let’s go!” Alain barked, and set off at a brisk pace.
Nancy and the others all fell into place behind the trainer. It actually felt good to be running outside, Nancy thought. The morning air was still cool, the birds were calling, and the cacti were bright green against the perfectly clear sky. Alain led the guests around the main complex, over to the tennis courts, back around the stables and Hank’s house, and then down the main road to the gate.
Nancy found herself growing winded as they approached the two tall wooden posts and the sign that swung between them. Bess had dropped back a while ago, but George was still running easily at the head of the pack. Nancy watched as her friend widened the gap between herself and the others.
Alain signaled to George as she loped beneath the gate. She stopped and waited for the rest of the pack, her hands on her knees.
Nancy would have loved to have stopped as well. She was incredibly thirsty, and each step was getting harder. But her pride wouldn’t let her give up. She knew she had to make it through the gate. She gritted her teeth as Melina Michaels passed her from behind, then raced under the gate. I must be really slow, Nancy thought. Melina wasn’t exactly the most motivated person.
Nancy neared the gate, panting so loudly that she was sure they could hear her in Texas. Alain stood on the other side, holding a stopwatch and frowning. “Come on!” he called to Nancy. “Pick up the pace now, and go for a sprint!”
The request was so unreasonable that Nancy felt her temper rise. Fortunately, with her anger came a burst of energy. Nancy dashed beneath the gate, then halted abruptly as she saw Melina’s face take on an expression of horror. Seconds later, she heard a deafening crash and a woman’s scream.
9
Alive and Unwell
Nancy spun around. The heavy wooden Solaire sign had crashed to the ground, barely missing her and Rhonda Wilkins, who was only a few feet behind Nancy. Rhonda stood on the other side of the gate, her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with fear. She was the one who’d screamed.
“You’d better sit down for a minute,” Alain said, taking Rhonda by the arm and gently leading the heavy woman to a boulder on the side of the road. “You’re hyperventilating. Try to control your breathing. Slow it down.”
Nancy bent down to examine the fallen wooden sign. A crosspiece had hung from the two wooden posts, and the Solaire sign had been attached to the crosspiece by rawhide strips. Maybe the sign fell because the rawhide wore out, Nancy thought.
Then she examined the sign more closely, and a shiver ran through her. Both strips of rawhide had been sliced halfway through, allowing the weight of the sign to tear the rest of the way through the rawhide. It looked a lot like the work of whoever had sabotaged the weight machine.
Nancy glanced up at Alain, who was still trying to calm Rhonda. “I think you ought to take a look at this,” Nancy called to the trainer.
A few minutes later, he came over and examined the rawhide strips and the fallen sign.
“Are you going to tell me this was an accident, too?” Nancy asked.
“I—I—” Alain stammered.
“What is going on here?” Melina shrieked. “First Whitney is hurt, and now this! Were you trying to kill all of us? You deliberately led us through this gate.”
“That’s because it’s exactly one and a half miles from the gym,” Alain said, regaining his composure. “We always take this route on the first run. And nothing like this has ever happened.”
“Except for the weight machine,” George reminded him.
Alain glared at her. Then his face went red as he saw a silver Mercedes approaching. “Wonderful,” he muttered. “Just what I need now—a visit from Jacqueline.”
A few moments later, Jacqueline emerged from the Mercedes. “What has happened to the sign?” she asked, sounding nearly hysterical. “How is anyone supposed to get in or out of the spa with a sign lying in the middle of the road?”
Alain began what seemed to be a lengthy explanation in French.
Jacqueline cut him off angrily and called Hank Meader from her car phone. Nancy heard her ask Hank to bring the truck and remove the sign. Then she turned and addressed her guests. “I must ask your forgiveness. I do not know how this could have happened. I am just so glad that no one was hurt. If you will please follow Alain back to the gym, we will see that nothing like this happens again.”
“I don’t believe you,” Melina said angrily. “Yesterday it was an accident in the gym, today there’s another one out here. Just how many of these near-disasters do you expect us to risk? Solaire isn’t safe, and you know it!”
“That’s not true,” Jacqueline said, but Nancy noticed that the woman’s voice was shaking slightly.
Melina stalked off toward the gym, and most of the others followed. Only Nancy, Bess, and George remained with Jacqueline.
“Jacqueline,” Nancy said, “this was no accident. Did you see how the rawhide strips were cut?”
Jacqueline nodded, brushing a silver-blond strand of hair away from her face.
“Who would do something like this to you?” Nancy asked.
“I don’t know,” Jacqueline said, her eyes still fixed on the sign. “We have never had enemies in the past. Perhaps someone is jealous of our success.”
Jacqueline’s explanation didn’t sound very convincing to Nancy. “Can you think of anyone specific?”
Jacqueline shook her head. “No one.” She looked up. “Thank you for your concern. Now, I’m afraid I must go.” Before Nancy could stop her, the Frenchwoman got into her Mercedes, drove around the sign, and sped away from the grounds.
“Poor Jacqueline,” Bess said. “I think this was a terrible shock to her.”
“I don’t,” Nancy said. “I think she knows exactly what’s going on, and she’s terrified to admit it.”
• • •
Later that afternoon, Nancy, Bess, and George were changing into swimsuits back in the casita when the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” Nancy called.
“Ms. Drew?” said an unfamiliar voice. “This is Ruth Foster. You left a message for me.”
“Yes,” Nancy said. “Your daughter Kim sent a letter to the Roziers yesterday, and I was wondering if you’d heard from her as well.”
“As a matter of fact, she called yesterday morning,” Kim’s mother answered. “I was so relieved to hear her voice!”
“Where did she call from?” Nancy asked curiously.
“Tucson, I suppose,” Mrs. Foster replied. “I live about sixty miles south of the city. Kim told me she’d been caught in the flood, but was washed onto dry land. The flood left her pretty bruised, and it took her a while to get back to civilization. Thank goodness she’s so at home in the desert.”
“Did Kim say where she was going?” Nancy asked.
“No. But she told me she’d quit her job at the spa because she needed some time off.”
“I guess she was anxious to get to Phoenix,” Nancy said. “That’s what she wrote in her letter.”
“Phoenix?” Mrs. Foster echoed. “Are you sure?”
“That’s what her letter said,” Nancy said.
“But my daughter can’t stand Phoenix,” Mrs. Foster said. “She calls it Congestion City.”
“Her letter said she wanted to see the museums,” Nancy explained.
“Museums?” Now Mrs. Foster’s voice was edged with astonishment. “I haven’t been able to get that girl inside a museum since she was ten. Kim’s always been too restless to spend much time indoors. She’s not happy unless she’s hiking up a mountain or camping under the stars . . . . Museums! Why, surviving that flood must have changed her whole way of thinking. I just don’t understand it.”
Nancy chatted with Mrs. Foster for a while longer. Then she hung up and sat silently on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense
of what she’d just learned.
“What is it, Nan?” Bess asked. “You’ve got a strange look on your face.”
“Well, the good news is that Kim’s alive,” Nancy answered. “At least, she was yesterday morning when she called her mother. But her mom was very surprised to hear that Kim wanted to go to Phoenix and see museums. Mrs. Foster said that sounded completely out of character for her daughter.”
“Maybe Kim decided she needed some culture,” Bess said optimistically.
“Or maybe,” Nancy said slowly, “someone forced Kim to write that letter to the Roziers. The same way they forced her to call her mother and say everything was fine.”
10
A Telltale Clue
“You mean, all that stuff about Phoenix and going to museums isn’t true?” Bess asked, looking puzzled.
“It’s very possible,” Nancy replied. “I think Kim put that stuff in the letter, hoping someone who knew her well would see it and know that something major was wrong. Her letter was a cry for help.”
“Do you still think Hank has something to do with Kim’s disappearance?” George asked worriedly.
Nancy nodded. “More than ever,” she said. “The plaid shirt was proof, and I have a hunch that Henry Sinclair is Hank Meader’s real name.”
“But why would Henry Sinclair change his name to Hank Meader?” Bess asked.
“Because,” Nancy explained, “if Laurent and Pierre Dennon are actually the same man, Pierre never would have hired a man whose name he recognized from the legal suit that destroyed his company.”
“I still don’t get it,” Bess said, shaking her head. “If Henry thought Pierre’s cosmetics had blinded his daughter, why would he want to work for Pierre?”
“When you work for someone,” Nancy said slowly, “you’re with him or her every day. You learn their habits, their strengths and weaknesses . . . ”
The Secret at Solaire Page 6
