151 The Chocolate-Covered Contest

by Carolyn Keene

  As they settled into chairs in Joyce's office, Nancy

  asked the question uppermost in her mind. “How

  exactly do you prevent contest fraud, Joyce?”

  “Generally, that information is a closely guarded

  secret,” Joyce said. “But since you are directly affected,

  I'll tell you this much. In these days of color printers

  and copiers, it's obviously not difficult to counterfeit a

  winning wrapper. Therefore, we assign a special code

  number to the genuine instant-win wrapper in order to

  prevent forgeries. The number is printed beneath the

  words Grand Prize. Obviously, we guard the winning

  number with our lives. Only a handful of people at

  Royal have access to this information, and it's locked in

  a safe.”

  Nancy leaned forward. “And did Bess's wrapper

  have the correct code number?”

  Joyce paused. “Yes. It certainly did. So far, your

  claim appears to be completely valid, Bess.”

  “But so does Diana's, I assume,” Nancy said.

  Joyce nodded. “That's right. The code number on

  her wrapper was also correct. And she's already been

  awarded the prize. Needless to say, Mr. Tumey is ready

  to have my head. The company can't afford to pay two

  winners. And this promotion has already cost Royal a

  lot of money. I'm afraid I'm going to lose my job.”

  Bess cleared her throat. “We're sorry to hear that, of

  course. But that can't be the reason you called us here

  at this hour.”

  “No. I talked to Mr. Tumey,” Joyce explained. “We

  agreed that we can't afford the publicity that would be

  caused by bringing in the police at this point. But we

  need to get to the bottom of this mystery. We know

  you're a detective, Nancy, and we were wondering if

  you could help us.”

  “This whole scenario is very interesting.” Nancy

  tapped her fingers on the desk. “Frankly, I don't

  understand why you'd come to me for help. I mean,

  earlier this afternoon you said you thought Bess might

  have cheated to win the contest. How do you know you

  can trust us?”

  “It's not much of a risk,” Joyce said with a smile. “I

  checked you out online and found old newspaper

  accounts of some of your cases. You're a bit of a

  celebrity, Nancy Drew. The River Heights police chief

  speaks highly of you—and your friends. So I think I can

  trust you and Bess. I hope I can. You're going to be

  investigating on your own regardless of what I say,

  right?”

  “You'd better believe it,” Bess replied.

  Joyce fixed her eyes on Nancy. “I'm sure you can

  understand why I'd rather have you on our side than

  against us. And by working together, I'm sure we stand

  a much better chance of uncovering the truth. That's

  what we all want, isn't it?”

  “Of course it is,” Nancy agreed.

  “Then you'll do it?” Joyce asked.

  Nancy nodded.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Joyce shook

  Nancy's hand. “I can't tell you how grateful I am. And,

  Bess—your patience will be rewarded. You have my

  word that this will all be straightened out very shortly.”

  “If Nancy's on the case, I'm sure it will,” Bess said

  simply.

  Joyce smiled. “I'm glad you have such confidence in

  your friend. Now, I know this is asking a lot, but if you

  could avoid contacting the media until the controversy

  is resolved, we would appreciate it. We're trying our

  best to keep this under wraps. We haven't even told

  Diana yet.”

  Nancy took a moment to digest this. Diana's earlier

  rudeness toward them would make a lot more sense if

  she knew she was competing with Bess for the contest

  money, but apparently she had no idea. “Why haven't

  you told Diana?”

  “If she has committed fraud, we see no need to tip

  her off about the investigation. And the fewer people

  who know about the prize mix-up, the better from our

  point of view. If this contest turns into a public

  relations disaster, Pleasant Candies is sure to take an

  even bigger bite out of our business. Oh—” Joyce

  turned to Nancy. “Speaking of disasters, I understand

  that a crocodile nearly took a bite out of you.”

  “I don't know how near it was,” Nancy said, “but it

  wasn't exactly one of my trip highlights.”

  “Obviously, Royal Chocolates will pay for your extra

  night's motel stay. I also took the liberty of setting up a

  meeting between Andrea and the president of our

  company, Mr. Castle. You may not be aware that Royal

  awards a number of educational grants each year.”

  “I wasn't aware of that, but why would you assume

  Andrea would want to apply for one?”

  “Nonprofit organizations can always use money,

  right? And Mr. Castle really likes to help worthy

  organizations, so I thought it might be worth a shot.”

  “It was kind of you to make arrangements for

  Andrea,” Nancy said. “I'm sure she'll be grateful.”

  “Also,” Joyce added, “I would imagine a tour of the

  chocolate factory is on your agenda.”

  Bess nodded. “Tomorrow morning.”

  “How would you like a personal tour guide to give

  you the inside scoop?”

  “Free samples for everyone?” Bess asked.

  Joyce laughed. “Definitely.”

  “You're on.” Bess caught herself. “Wait a second. I'd

  better not get carried away. Andrea's in charge. Can we

  have her give you a call in the morning?”

  “Sure,” Joyce said. “I'll be here at seven.”

  “Yikes,” Bess murmured to Nancy as they left

  Joyce's office. “I always thought working in a chocolate

  factory would be fun until I heard about Joyce's job.”

  Nancy nodded. “And I thought being a detective was

  stressful.”

  The next morning Nancy was pulling on a sweatshirt

  when Bess opened her eyes. “Please tell me it isn't

  morning already.”

  “Eight A.M. Rise and shine,” Nancy said cheerfully.

  Bess buried her face in her pillow. “Go away.”

  “I am,” Nancy said. “But you'd better get up. Andrea

  arranged the factory tour for ten o'clock. And you've

  got a breakfast date with ten Sleuths.”

  Bess squinted at Nancy. “Where are you going?”

  “The computer lab here at the Royal Museum. I

  spoke to Joyce this morning, and she says they have

  Internet access. I'm going to see what I can find out

  about Diana and Phil online.”

  “Aren't you going to eat breakfast?”

  “I'll grab something later,” Nancy said. “And George

  will be back. She just went for a jog. I'll see you guys at

  the chocolate factory.”

  Nancy glanced at her Kings Commons map as she

  walked along the beautifully landscaped path called El

  Camino Real. She remembered from her Spanish

  classes that that meant “The Royal Way.” The air was

  clear and crisp after the pr
evious day's rain. Empty cars

  ran on Royal Pain's purple tracks, and the warm smell

  of chocolate hung over Kings Commons.

  George jogged past Nancy. “Great day, isn't it?”

  Nancy grinned. “I hope so.”

  The computer proctor stood up quickly when Nancy

  entered. He seemed surprised to see her. “Hi, I'm

  Stan. Can I help you?”

  Nancy shook his hand. “My name's Nancy Drew. I

  was just hoping to get online.”

  “No problem.” Stan led her to the nearest terminal.

  “Let me show you how to maneuver our Internet

  browser.” He used the mouse to open the Royal

  Chocolates home page as an example. “If you want to

  perform a search, you click here.” He demonstrated.

  “And if you want to go back to a recent search, you can

  click on the history button, like so. That way you can

  see—”

  “Wait!” Nancy cried. She put a hand on the mouse.

  “When you clicked the history button, I thought I saw.

  . .” She repeated Stan's motions and took a close look

  at the name that had flashed on the screen a moment

  earlier. “Does this mean what I think it means?” she

  asked Stan.

  Stan's brow furrowed as he read the screen. “This is

  strange. It looks like the last person who used this

  computer to search for information was looking for

  information about you!”

  6. Jelly Rogers

  Nancy looked at the keywords for the last several

  computer searches. “Nancy Drew,” “Andrea Cassella,”

  “Bess Marvin,” “Science Sleuths.” What could this

  mean? she asked herself. Who was searching for

  information about her and her friends?

  “Do you have any idea who used this computer

  last?” Nancy asked Stan.

  Stan shook his head. “Sorry. I just got in this

  morning, so this must have happened yesterday. Patsy

  was working then.” He glanced at the schedule taped

  to the wall behind his desk. “You'll have to come back

  Wednesday—oh, that's tomorrow. Come back

  tomorrow and talk to her. But I'm afraid we get about

  three hundred users a day, and we don't have any sort

  of sign-up system for the users. I wouldn't bet that

  she'd remember.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Stan. You've been very helpful.”

  Nancy gripped the mouse. “I think I can take it from

  here.”

  “Yell if you need anything,” Stan said. He returned

  to his own work.

  Nancy stared at the blue screen for a moment. She

  remembered Joyce's saying she'd performed an online

  search for information about Nancy and her cases.

  Surely she'd used the computer in her own office, and

  she hadn't mentioned looking up Andrea or the

  Sleuths. If someone else was investigating them, who

  could it be? She sighed as she looked at her watch—it

  was getting late. She'd better get on with her original

  plan.

  She typed in Diana's name as the keyword for a new

  search. “Twenty-four hits,” she read as the computer

  returned the results. That meant there were twenty-

  four mentions of Diana Nugent on the World Wide

  Web.

  She pulled up the first match, which listed finish

  times for a recent California 5K race. The Diana

  Nugent mentioned had placed second in the eighteen-

  and-under category. “Definitely not our Diana,” Nancy

  murmured. She bit her lip as, one by one, she

  discarded the entries returned by the search engine.

  “Is everything going okay over there?” Stan asked.

  “Mmm,” Nancy murmured. She clicked on the

  seventeenth link. “I think . . .” She straightened up in

  her seat. “It might be going better now.”

  Finally she appeared to have uncovered something

  useful. Here was a web page for Gold Nugget

  Publishing, which listed Diana Nugent as its president

  and Phil Nugent as vice-president. Based on the

  conversation she'd heard earlier between Diana and

  Phil, Nancy realized this had to be their company.

  Publishing, she thought to herself. If Diana had high-

  quality printing equipment and the expertise, she

  would have the ability to forge a winning chocolate

  wrapper. That still left the problem of the code

  number. Diana's wrapper had had the correct instant-

  win code. How could she have gotten that information?

  Nancy wondered.

  She skimmed through the various areas of the

  company's website—history, services offered, clients.

  Suddenly Nancy drew in her breath.

  One of Gold Nugget's clients was Pleasant Candies!

  There was even a quote from Pleasants president,

  Maggie Fitzwilliam, praising Diana's work. Could the

  fact that Pleasant Candies was their client possibly be a

  coincidence? Nancy asked herself. Could Diana be a

  link to the corporate spy?

  A group of noisy students entered the lab at that

  moment, and Nancy realized someone would want to

  use her terminal. I'll just take five more minutes, she

  thought to herself, glancing at the clock on the

  computer screen.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. It was already ten o'clock.

  She was late.

  “Thanks for everything,” she told Stan as she stuffed

  her pen and notebook into her bag and slung it over

  her shoulder. “I'll be back.”

  The chocolate factory was a short walk from the

  computer lab. Nancy found she didn't even need to

  check her map to orient herself; she could follow her

  nose.

  She caught up with the Sleuths as Joyce was handing

  out cacao beans.

  “Besides making chocolate, the ancient Aztecs used

  the cacao bean as a unit of currency,” Joyce was

  explaining.

  “Great. I hope they don't try to pay me my prize

  money in beans,” Bess whispered to George.

  Kenny bit into his and immediately made a face. “It

  tastes terrible.” He spat it into a tissue Andrea handed

  him.

  Joyce laughed. “I was about to tell you that you

  might not want to taste it. It's bitter because sugar

  hasn't been added to it.”

  Laura nodded. “I tasted my mother's baking

  chocolate once. It was gross.”

  “Let's go see what happens to the cacao beans after

  they've been roasted and blended.” Joyce led the

  Sleuths into the next room. “We'll have better-tasting

  samples soon. I promise.”

  “Did I miss anything?” Nancy asked.

  “Not really. I called to check on the van,” Andrea

  said. “They still have no idea when it will be ready.”

  Nancy shook her head. “That's too bad.” She nodded

  toward the Sleuths. “The kids seem to be enjoying the

  tour.”

  Andrea smiled. “Yes. Joyce is wonderful with them.”

  “I'm sorry I was late.” Nancy glanced at the clear

  tubes, running from ceiling to floor, filled with a

  stream of melted chocolate that had been poured into

  them from huge vats on the
second floor. She had

  never seen so much chocolate.

  “You're never late without a good reason,” Bess said

  to Nancy. “So spill the beans.” She giggled. “No pun

  intended.”

  “I did learn something interesting,” Nancy said.

  “Diana and Phil own a publishing company. And one of

  their clients happens to be Pleasant Candies.”

  “Wow,” George said. “That would make it easy for

  them to print a fake wrapper.”

  “That's true,” Andrea said. “But lots of people could

  probably do that. The question is, how would they get

  the right instant-win code?”

  Bess nodded. “And what about Pleasant Candies? I

  don't understand why it's important.”

  “It's not as though anyone at Pleasant would know

  anything about Royal's contest,” Andrea observed.

  “Not necessarily,” Nancy said quietly. She explained

  what she and Bess had overheard in Joyce's office

  about the possibility of a corporate spy at Royal.

  “So,” George said, “if somebody who worked for

  Pleasant came to Royal and nosed around looking for

  company secrets . . .”

  “And found some—like the instant-win code, for

  instance,” Bess said, getting the connection now. “If

  Diana has connections to Pleasant, maybe she was

  working with that employee and maybe he or she gave

  her the code number.”

  “Don't get too excited,” Nancy cautioned Bess. “We

  don't have any proof. It's just an idea. In fact, I'm not

  even going to mention it to Joyce yet. I want to learn

  more about Diana's ties to Pleasant first.”

  Nancy stopped talking as she realized Joyce was

  asking the Sleuths a question.

  “And who can guess why he decided to name the

  company Royal Chocolates?”

  Katie's hand shot in the air. “Because his last name

  was Castle.”

  “Very good. Of course, that wasn't his real last name.

  He changed it when he came over from Italy, so that it

  would sound more American. In the 1920s, people

  were not so tolerant of immigrants.”

  “Did he change his name back once he got rich and

  famous and successful?” Emma asked.

  “That's a good question.” Joyce paused. “No, Mr.

  Castle didn't change his name back, but he never

  forgot what it was like to be poor or to struggle. That's

  why it was so important to him that Royal Chocolates

  do things to help the community. He built a museum