Hidden Meanings

by Carolyn Keene

  With an effort, Nancy concentrated once more on the case. She considered Paul’s question. She liked Paul, but she didn’t want to blow her cover. “My friend had her room broken into last night and again today,” she said. “So her bodyguard’s a little jumpy. I do wonder where this rat came from, though,” she said with a hint of suspicion in her voice. “You and I both saw the plate in the kitchen, and there was nothing there then.”

  “Beats me,” Paul declared. “Maybe someone tampered with it in the service elevator.”

  “Who was on the elevator with you?” Nancy asked.

  Paul sat back on his heels, as he tried to remember. “One of the maintenance staff,” he said. “You know, those guys in the green outfits. I don’t know his name. The hotel’s only been open a week, so we don’t all know one another yet.”

  “Where did he get on?” Nancy asked.

  “In the subbasement, where I got on,” Paul said. “I was just about to go up, and he came running, wheeling one of those big laundry carts.”

  “Did he speak to you?” she asked.

  “He asked me to push a button for him—ten, I think,” Paul said. “And then—” He paused.

  “Go on,” Nancy said, encouraging him.

  “He was fiddling with the cart, trying to get it straight,” Paul said. “He said a wheel was caught in a floor crack, and he asked me to help. I set down my tray to do it. Then he accidentally jammed me into a corner for a minute. He may have had time to slip the rat under the cover then.”

  Nancy crossed her arms. “What did this guy look like?” she asked intently.

  Paul shrugged. “Medium height and build, brown hair,” he recalled slowly. “No, taller than medium height—those coveralls make everyone look shorter.”

  “Did he have a beard?” Nancy asked.

  Paul ran a hand through his short dark hair. “To tell you the truth, Nancy, I hardly noticed him. He was just a guy in the elevator, you know?”

  Nancy sighed. Paul’s account tallied somewhat with Rosita’s description of the man who probably stole her passkey. But both descriptions were too vague to be useful. The profile matched Nick Kessler, and possibly the bearded man, but it also matched half the men in River Heights, including her own father!

  Just then Nancy noticed Ralph Winkler sauntering down the hallway with a goofy grin on his face. He waved at them. “Mr. Wasilick said I should come to 707,” he announced. “Someone needs a guard?”

  Ned’s door opened, and he stepped out, pointedly avoiding Nancy’s gaze. “Yeah, I called for a guard,” he answered. Looking at Ralph’s skinny body in his crimson bellman’s uniform, Ned paused. “You sure you can handle this?” he asked.

  Ralph rolled his eyes. “What’s to handle?” he asked. “I can sit on a chair and stare at a door as well as anybody.”

  Ned looked annoyed at the job description. Nancy hid her smile.

  Gina’s door opened, and the two girls came out, looking a bit less upset. Ned escorted them down the hallway, without a word to Nancy. Saying goodbye to Paul, Nancy headed for her room.

  As she came through the door, she saw Bess lying on the bed, watching TV. “Where’ve you been?” she asked.

  Nancy ran through the details of the latest incident. Bess shivered when Nancy described the dead rat on the pasta. “How revolting!” she squealed.

  Nancy finished her story. “Nick Kessler is the only suspect we have right now,” she added. “And possibly a medium-height guy with a brown beard. You and George will have to keep your eyes open. Where is George, anyway?”

  “At the pool,” Bess said.

  Nancy frowned. “She wasn’t on duty tonight,” she said.

  “I know, but she went anyway,” Bess explained. “She knew you wanted her to check out Jane Sellery.”

  “Good for George,” Nancy declared. “Want to go down and join her for a swim?”

  Bess shook her head stubbornly. “No way—not if Ralph is down the hall,” she said. “He’s been following me all day. He’s unshakable!”

  Nancy giggled. “Maybe I should hire Ralph to tail suspects for me,” she joked.

  “It’s not funny, Nancy,” Bess said. “I’m dying to go down to the lobby for a candy bar, but I don’t want to see him. And you know, if I give up chocolate for anything, it’s really a big deal.” Her expression shifted. “But now that you’re here, Nan—will you go down and buy it for me?”

  “No chance, Bess!” Nancy exclaimed. “I won’t buy a candy bar for you. I’ll go down with you, if you want, but I’m not feeding your cravings.”

  Bess moaned and hauled herself off the bed. “Okay, then, let’s go,” she said. “I guess if Ralph has to stay on that chair, he can’t bother me.”

  Opening the door furtively, Nancy and Bess slipped out into the hall. Immediately, they heard Ralph hiss to get Bess’s attention. “Sorry, Ralph, I’m in a hurry,” Bess called, sprinting by him. The girls scuttled to the safety of the elevator bank.

  Once downstairs, Nancy and Bess entered the gift shop, which was just off the lobby. Nancy flipped aimlessly through a magazine. “Hey, Nan, look at this,” Bess called from behind a display rack. Nancy looked over.

  Bess was holding up a huge T-shirt in an ugly greenish-tan color. Kiss Me, I’m Available, the caption read. Underneath was a drawing of a hideous pink octopus with eight circling arms.

  “We should buy this for our pal Gina,” Bess said, giggling.

  “Come on, Bess, that’s awful,” Nancy said, but she smiled. It sure helped to know that her friends were on her side.

  Bess bought two candy bars—“In case I get hungry later,” she explained—and the two girls went back to the elevator bank. Nancy pushed the button and then glanced up at the mezzanine café. There, at a table right by the railing, Ned was sitting with Gina and Sally. All three were laughing and talking. Nancy seethed. “If he’s so worried about assassins, why did he choose a table out in the open like that?” she said.

  Just then a piercing whistle rang through the atrium. Nancy and Bess craned their necks to look up. Leaning over the seventh-floor railing, Ralph was madly waving his arm. He blew a kiss to Bess, then gestured urgently for her to come upstairs.

  “I could die, I could just die,” whined Bess, scrunching up her body to seem as small as possible.

  “Why don’t I go and see what he wants?” Nancy said as an elevator came. “It may have to do with the case, anyway.”

  Bess nodded. “I’m just going to stay here and stuff myself with chocolate,” she announced with a groan.

  Nancy stepped into the elevator. When she reached seven, she called down the hall to Ralph as she approached him. “Everything okay?”

  “Oh, sure,” Ralph said, toying with the braid on his uniform shoulder. “But I just thought I should tell someone. A maintenance worker came to the room to fix the light in the bathroom. I didn’t know anything about it, so I sent him away. Did I do right? I don’t want Mr. Wasilick to get mad at me.”

  “You did just right,” Nancy assured him. “What did the guy look like?”

  Ralph looked confused. “Uh—brown hair. Not too tall,” he said.

  Was it the same man Rosita and Paul had run into? Nancy wondered. Nick Kessler? The bearded man? “Let me just look around to check things out,” she said.

  “By the way, did he have a beard?”

  “Uh . . . I can’t remember,” Ralph answered, struggling to remember. “Well, I’ll see you in a bit.” Leaving Ralph, she went around the corner and walked through the open steel doors to the service corridor. Near the elevator she spied green coveralls tossed carelessly on the floor.

  She knelt quickly beside them. Nancy bet that whoever had discarded them wasn’t one of the hotel’s real workers. She held them up, looking for clues.

  Suddenly the corridor light went off. A second later, the steel doors slammed shut with a heavy clatter. Nancy was plunged into darkness, without a single ray of light to see by.

  Then, outside, a h
igh-pitched siren went off.

  A fire alarm! Nancy was trapped.

  Chapter

  Nine

  ON THE OTHER SIDE of the steel doors, Nancy heard people shouting and footsteps pounding as the fire alarm wailed on. She also heard several loud metallic clangs—probably more fire doors swinging shut, Nancy guessed. The noises echoed and reechoed throughout the hotel.

  From arson cases she had worked on, Nancy knew that a series of fire doors should clap shut as soon as an alarm went off. Held shut by heavy springs, the doors would contain any fire in each sealed-off area. She had no hope of opening these doors by herself.

  She groped along the wall to the service elevator and pushed the button. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened for cables and gears turning in the shaft. She heard nothing. Then she quickly remembered that once a fire alarm sounds, all elevators are halted. Otherwise, the shafts could become vertical fire tunnels, channeling flames and smoke to other floors.

  Discouraged, Nancy realized that someone had hoped she would come in here to investigate Ralph’s report about a maintenance worker. Slumping onto the floor, she sat in the dark. Had that same person switched off the light and pulled the fire alarm, knowing she would be trapped completely?

  Then another possibility occurred to her. What if the alarm wasn’t a fake? What if there really was a fire? Could this enclosed compartment become a death trap? The hotel’s fire system had most likely not yet been tested in a real fire, she thought in horror.

  Nancy fought down a wave of fear. Yes, she was trapped, but she didn’t have to sit in the dark, she reasoned. If she could find the wall switch, she could turn the lights back on. She rose and began to feel her way along the wall.

  Just then the fire siren stopped. With a crackle of static, a voice came over the loudspeaker system. It was Maureen Peabody’s.

  “Attention, guests,” Ms. Peabody said. “Please do not panic. A fire alarm has been pulled on the seventh floor. No smoke detectors have gone off, and no actual fire has been spotted. However, in the interest of safety, all people are to walk down the fire stairs to the lobby. Do not use the elevators. Take the stairs. Repeat: No fire has been spotted.”

  The smoke detectors didn’t go off, Nancy realized—a good sign that this was a false alarm.

  Her fingers brushed against a light switch on the wall. She snapped the switch, and the corridor lit up. Looking around, she saw nothing unusual.

  Then she heard heavy footsteps running outside, heading up the corridor. Deep male voices shouted orders. “Go to the far end and work your way back. Open every door.” “Break ’em down?” “No, we have a key from the manager—here.” It must be a crew of firefighters, Nancy thought. Pounding her fists against the fire door, she tried to catch their attention.

  “Hey, someone’s in here!” a voice shouted nearby. The firefighter came closer and called to Nancy. “You okay in there?”

  “Yes,” Nancy called back. “Can you get me out?”

  “We can’t disable the fire doors until we’re sure there’s no fire,” the firefighter explained. “We’re doing a room-to-room search. It’ll take about five more minutes. Then we’ll turn off the system. You’ll be safe. Can you wait till then?”

  “Sure,” Nancy said uneasily. She knew she had no choice.

  Leaning against the door, she willed herself to stay calm. They’re just playing it safe, she thought. There’s no fire.

  But then, out in the corridor, she heard a firefighter shout. “We’ve found a blaze! Room 707!”

  Nancy’s heart leapt. Gina’s room!

  More footsteps pounded past. Nancy paced restlessly around her enclosed space. Her own fear had given way to worry about Gina. Whether or not she liked her, Nancy had to admit the girl was in danger.

  Finally, Nancy heard the firefighters troop back out. The fire doors suddenly swung open, and Nancy sprinted into the corridor.

  Looking down over the railing, she saw the lobby packed with anxious guests and staff members. A group of firefighters, in black coats and thick rubber boots, were gathering at the front entrance. A fire captain was conferring with Maureen Peabody. Evan Sharpless stood behind her.

  Nancy saw the manager nod as he shook the captain’s hand. Then she spoke to Mr. Sharpless. He turned and jogged to the bridge arching over the lobby pool.

  When Evan Sharpless held up his hand for attention, the crowd fell silent. He called out in his resonant voice, “A small blaze was found and put out. All rooms have been checked and given the all clear. You may go back to your rooms now.”

  A spontaneous cheer arose from the crowd. Somehow, the newscaster’s manner had put them at ease. Nancy guessed that was why Maureen Peabody had let him make the announcement.

  Nancy ran down the hall to Gina’s room. The door stood wide open, and she saw at once the smoke-blackened door frame around the closet and the mass of charred clothing inside. The room smelled of smoke, but nothing else seemed to have burned.

  At that moment Gina, Sally, and Ned came up behind Nancy. Gina gasped. “All our clothes are ruined!” she cried.

  “You must have been downstairs when the fire started,” Nancy said.

  Sally turned to give Nancy an odd look. “No,” she said. “We’d just come back upstairs when the alarm went off. We evacuated our room, but . . . there was no fire here when we left.”

  Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “Then it was a false alarm,” she said. “A way to get you out of your room and make sure no one would stay to guard the room. Someone must have sneaked in and set the fire after you left.”

  “Looks to me like someone wants to harass Gina but not necessarily hurt her,” Ned said. “Burning up her clothes is one definite way to disturb her.”

  “Sally, maybe you and Gina should check to see that nothing else is ruined,” Nancy suggested. Nodding, Sally moved slowly into the room.

  “My best things!” Gina wailed, standing in front of the closet. “My shoes, my handbags. I’d just spent two days at the best boutiques in Rome. My whole wardrobe is gone!”

  “Has anybody seen my camera?” Sally piped up uneasily. “I had a black canvas bag with a camera, all my lenses, several rolls of film, and a matching portfolio, too, full of developed negatives. It’s all my photography stuff.”

  Ned, Nancy, and Gina began to hunt with Sally. “You had it with you at the café, I know,” Gina said, peering behind the curtains. “She never goes anywhere without her camera,” she added, looking at Nancy and Ned. Then Gina turned toward Sally. “I saw you bring it back up, Sal.”

  “I left it on the floor by the desk,” Sally said. “It’s definitely gone!”

  Gina ran over to hug Sally. “Oh, I feel so horrible!” she said. “I can always buy more clothes, but your pictures can never be replaced.” For once, Gina seemed more concerned with someone else’s problem than with her own, Nancy realized.

  “Maybe they’ll turn up,” Nancy said, trying to console Sally. “Right now, why don’t I go get some clothes to lend you two? That way, you’ll have something to wear tomorrow, at least.”

  “Gee, thanks, Nancy,” Sally said gratefully.

  “That’d be great,” Gina chimed in. “And I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, Sally. I’ll buy you a new camera, and lots of new clothes.”

  “You don’t need to, Gina,” Sally protested.

  “But it’s all my fault!” Gina said. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to help you spruce up your wardrobe. I’ve got my credit cards. Daddy will never notice if I run up a little bill.”

  As Gina chattered on, Nancy saw that she was successfully cheering up Sally. Gina may be a flirt, Nancy thought, but at least she’s a loyal friend. And that was one trait Nancy admired in people.

  Nancy quietly left and went down the hall to her room to fetch some clothes. Bess and George were both there and listened intently to Nancy’s news of the fire. “Oh, let me help find clothes for Gina,” Bess said with a sly grin.

  Fifteen minutes later Nancy r
eturned to room 707 with an armload of clothing. Ned was sitting on his chair outside room 709, next door. “I let them move into my room,” he told Nancy. “I don’t mind sleeping next to a burned closet, but Gina shouldn’t have to. You were right, by the way. It was more important to guard the room than to guard Gina. I should have listened to you.”

  Nancy softened. “How could we guess what this maniac is up to?” she said. “I still don’t understand him. Anyway, here are the clothes.”

  Ned rose and took the pile. Tossing it on his chair, he began to sort through it. There were a couple of George’s sweatsuits, Bess’s baggiest cotton shorts, and some T-shirts from the gift shop. Ned unfolded the one with the octopus on it. “ ‘Kiss Me, I’m Available,’ ” he read out loud. “Let me guess.” He turned to Nancy with a grin. “Is this one for Gina, by any chance?”

  Nancy feigned innocence. “Think it’ll fit her?”

  Ned laughed and drew Nancy into his arms. As they melted into a long kiss, Nancy forgot to wonder whether anyone was watching.

  • • •

  Nancy and Bess were eating breakfast in the employee cafeteria the next morning, when George walked up, looking glum. “Bad news,” she said. “Paul was fired.”

  Bess set down her tea cup with a clatter. “Why?” she asked with concern.

  “Apparently he left work without permission last night,” George said, sighing. “I just saw him down in the employees’ locker area, clearing out his stuff. I’m going to meet him outside in ten minutes. Could you guys come, too? Maybe we can help him get his job back.”

  Nancy and Bess agreed. Clearing away their trays, the three girls went up a back staircase and emerged at the parking lot behind the hotel.

  Paul was loading a duffel bag into the trunk of a small black car. At Nancy’s urging, he told them his story.

  “Mr. Wasilick was looking for me last night, around ten o’clock,” he said. “I guess he wanted to grill me about the dead rat, since I was the one who delivered it. But I wasn’t around, and he got steamed. And then the fire alarm went off.”