A Crime for Christmas

by Carolyn Keene

  “But why not tell anyone?” I asked.

  “Why would I?” she countered, as if I’d just asked her the silliest question ever. “This way I can go in and out of the lodge without having to be annoyed by anybody or answer any stupid questions.”

  “And here I thought you were a people person,” Liz muttered.

  Chef K’s clandestine use of a clandestine door did seem less suspicious given how antisocial she was. Now I was more interested in the room itself. A secret door leading into a previously hidden chamber could be hiding other secrets as well.

  “So you never had a chance to explore the other two walls to see if there was anything hidden behind the new shelving too?” I asked.

  “I don’t have time for fairy tales, and I’m definitely not letting anyone mess with my brand-new custom shelves,” she warned. “What does this have to do with whoever is trying to ruin my restaurant?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Someone paid Clark a gold nugget to sabotage you, and there’s a chance it could be related to Mrs. Bosley’s old legend.”

  “So basically you have no idea who’s out to get me or why?” she grumbled.

  “No, but with your help I’m going to find out,” I told her. She may not have been the easiest person to work with, but it’s always a good idea to remain polite—even when the victim is not. “Let’s start with who else might know about the secret door to set that trap.”

  “Unless somebody saw me from outside, I don’t have any idea,” she said. “I never use it during work hours, when my staff is around. Plenty of them have access to the pantry, so I guess it’s possible someone else discovered it on their own, but my people would never do something like this.”

  “You’re a great cook, but you’re not exactly the nicest boss,” Liz pointed out.

  Chef K started to snarl but relaxed into a sigh. “Okay, maybe I could treat them a little better sometimes, but do you really think someone would want to hurt me just because I yell too much? They’d be sabotaging their own jobs, and a lot of them chose to come with me from New York. My people get paid well, they get a better education with me than in any culinary school, and they get to put working for me on their résumé.”

  “So the next chef they work for knows they need a hug?” Liz prodded.

  “So the next chef they work for knows they’re pros who can handle the stress of working in a topflight kitchen for a topflight chef,” she countered. “Everyone who makes it to my kitchen either stays or they graduate to higher positions at other top restaurants. More than a few go on to run kitchens of their own.”

  From what I’d seen and heard, it was mostly true. Her employees might not like her, but they did seem to respect her and take real pride in the quality of Mountain to Table’s food. And that food really was topflight (if you actually got a chance to eat it in between all the mayhem!).

  Clark might have been letting someone pay him to pull his strings, but he didn’t seem to have anything against her personally, even with all the yelling, and I think he saw the hot towels and the greenhouse as fairly harmless pranks. I couldn’t see him doing something as extreme as setting that trap. So who would?

  “What about other employees at the lodge?” I asked. “Anyone who might have a grudge against you for some reason?”

  “I don’t really mingle,” she said. “Besides, no one is allowed on restaurant turf except my people. I made sure of that the second I arrived. And that includes Leach and Alexander.”

  “So you’re saying a restaurant outsider wouldn’t have had access to the hidden door from the kitchen. That would mean it’s either an inside job, or someone’s been watching you for a while,” I concluded. I looked down at my watch. I was out of time. I had a “hack-off” conference call to get to. “Keep your eyes open and let me know if you see anything suspicious. I have some other leads I’m working as well, and I’ll let you know what I turn up.”

  “Hey, can we use the secret door in here to get back to the lodge?” Brady asked. “It was not easy getting here the other way.”

  Chef K nodded and moved aside so we could go through the pantry’s new not-secret door.

  “Um, hey, uh, Nancy,” Chef K said as I started to wheel myself away. “Um, thank you.”

  I could tell it wasn’t easy for her to say. I had been starting to think Chef K’s interior was as gruff as her exterior, but all it took was a simple thank-you to remind me that she was a human being with feelings too.

  I turned back to her and smiled. “We’re going to find out what’s going on and get Mountain to Table running smoothly, I promise.”

  “I have a lot riding on this place,” she confessed. “Going to a middle-of-nowhere wilderness to open a restaurant is a big risk. I believe in Archie’s vision, and I want to do something as a chef that no one else has ever done. But that trap . . . I feel like I’m being hunted, and . . . I’m scared. Part of me wants to pack up my knives and head back to the city, but my entire reputation hinges on this.”

  That was when Liz wrapped her arms around Chef K and gave her a big hug. Chef K froze with her arms at her side like she’d never been hugged before and didn’t know what to do, but then she tentatively lifted up her arms and squeezed back.

  “We got your back, girl,” Liz said.

  “Um, do you guys want to take some snacks back with you?” Chef K asked shyly once Liz let her go.

  The door lead us right to Mountain to Table’s pantry. We left with an amazing picnic basket full of gourmet snacks, including a mason jar of perfectly crunchy not-rotten sauerkraut that was actually so delicious I ended up eating it straight out of the jar with a fork!

  I was back in my suite, munching on sesame-seed-stuffed Greek dolmas wrapped in handpicked wild grape leaves, when the alarm on my phone buzzed. It was hack-off time!

  I flipped open my tablet, tapped the Google Hangouts app icon, and joined the video call George had set up. Everyone’s pictures popped up with a ding, including Bess, who wasn’t part of the challenge but insisted on being there for “moral support,” she said, although I suspected she just didn’t want to be left out.

  “All right, guys!” I said, kicking off the introductions. “George and Bess of Team Drew, meet Frank and Joe of Team Hardy.”

  Bess said a breezy hello to everyone and batted her eyes. Joe practically melted off the screen. Bess kind of has that effect on guys. Frank started to melt too, which wouldn’t have been so surprising—only I think it was George’s own “hey” he was melting at!

  George seemed oblivious to it, in normal George fashion, and launched right into her results.

  “Okay, we know the old owners’ son, Dino Bosley, and Sheriff Pruitt both stand to make a lot of money if the lodge caves on the pipeline and they can lease their land. They also have a long history together, going back to sharing All-Conference honors for the Prospect High Prospectors football team. As an adult, Dino Bosley has a long troublemaking rap sheet in Prospect—or at least he would have a rap sheet if his friend the sheriff didn’t keep letting him off the hook. According to the local police blotter, he’s been arrested at least ten times for everything from reckless driving to assault to disorderly conduct, and not one of them resulted in charges.”

  “Well, we know for a fact that Pruitt plays fast and loose with how he enforces the law,” Frank said bitterly. “So you think they’re working on something shady together involving the pipeline?”

  “Could be, or could be Pruitt is covering for his old friend Dino,” George speculated. “Who it turns out may have another bone to pick with the lodge as well. Dino had been in talks with a restaurant owner in town about partnering up to revamp the lodge’s prime restaurant space, which we now know as Mountain to Table. The venture got far enough that it was announced in the local paper just a few weeks before Leach and Alexander swooped in and bought the lodge outright.”

  “Dashing Dino Bosley’s dreams of being a big restaurateur,” I theorized. “Which might give him a grudge
against Chef K and Mountain to Table to go along with his pipeline beef.”

  “We’d been looking for a link tying the restaurant sabotage to the pipeline, and this could be a way of killing two birds with one hot pepper,” George suggested.

  “That’s all you got?” Joe asked dismissively. “Frank, hit ’em with the big guns.”

  “We’ve got a new lead on your Representative Alexander, and it’s a doozy,” Frank announced. “We know there’s a lot of political pressure on him to cave to the pipeline. Well, from the looks of it, the possibly-not-so-esteemed gentleman from Montana may have more than just a political interest in the lodge leasing the land to the pipeline. He could have a financial one as well.”

  My stomach dropped as Frank paused to let this sink in before continuing.

  “Harold Crane, a businessman with close ties to Larry Thorwald, made a huge contribution to the Alexander reelection campaign right before he closed the deal on the lodge.”

  “Could it be a coincidence?” I asked. “That doesn’t necessarily prove that Alexander knew about the connection. Politicians get donations from all kinds of people.”

  “Sure, but Crane is knee deep in the lobby to open protected wilderness to oil exploration, which makes him a pretty strange contributor to a pro-environment politician,” Frank continued. “Especially one who owns a big stake in a new high-profile eco-resort that just happens to stand in the way of the pipeline’s construction.”

  “So Alexander has been banking political capital with environmentally conscious voters while also banking money from a dude with a major anti-environment agenda,” Joe commented.

  “That’s not all,” said Frank. “The Leach and Alexander real estate firm bought a big chunk of stock in a manufacturing company called All Alloy right afterward. The company manufactures some parts used in solar panel construction, which on the surface doesn’t seem too weird for a ‘green’ real estate development firm.”

  “But . . . ?” I asked tentatively, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “Until you dig a little deeper,” George cut in, “and learn that the same company is also one of the biggest suppliers of rivets to the pipeline company’s main contractor.” She leaned back with a smug grin. “Thought you were the only one with that lead, didn’t ya?”

  “Impressive,” Frank admitted, blushing a little.

  “Not that impressive,” Joe grumbled.

  “All Alloy’s stock has been rising along with the pipeline company’s,” Frank continued. “And if this pipeline gets built, anyone who bought in before the project was green-lit could make a killing.”

  “And that now includes both Grant and your friend Archie, since their firm is sitting on the stock as well,” George concluded.

  “There’s got to be a mix-up,” I said, furrowing my brow. “I know Archie wouldn’t go for anything that benefited a pipeline company no matter how much profit was in it, and definitely not the pipeline company he’s fighting against.”

  “You suspect he wouldn’t, Nance, but you don’t know for a fact,” Bess pointed out.

  Ugh, Bess was usually the trusting one.

  “Hey, my cynicism is finally rubbing off on you!” George declared cheerily.

  I sighed. Bess wasn’t being cynical, though; she was simply being objective. I really respected Archie, but I couldn’t let my personal feelings bias my investigation.

  “I’m going to have to have a heart-to-heart with Archie to see what he knows,” I conceded.

  “What we know is that there are conflicts of interest up the wazoo with the Grand Sky Lodge and the pipeline, but what is the connection between that and all the sabotage and break-ins?” Joe asked.

  “And the gold nugget!” Bess chimed in, and I had to smile. Bess was a sucker for jewelry, even if it was still in the raw-material stage.

  I brought them up to date on the discovery of the hidden entrance to the lodge and my interview with Chef K, not that it answered any of our questions. We had a ton of clues, but most of them just raised more questions. And there were more than enough suspects, but it was hard to match their motives with the crimes.

  “Sabotaging the lodge might make sense for a pipeline supporter, but why target the restaurant specifically?” I asked.

  “Unless you’re Dino,” George reminded us. “He’s pro pipeline, he has a reason to have a grudge against the restaurant, and he did show up to make a scene right before the hot-towel incident that started all of it.”

  “And if he used to work there, he could still have an accomplice on the inside,” added Bess.

  “But what would that have to do with Grant Alexander?” Joe asked.

  “And there’s also the fact that it was Grant’s suite that was broken into most recently,” I interjected—another complication. “He’s been targeted as well, so he’s a break-in victim, not a perpetrator. Archie, too. The sabotage could ruin the lodge’s whole grand opening.”

  “At least that’s the way they want to make it look,” Joe speculated.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I said. “They both have too much invested in this week.”

  “I took the fall for somebody, and I want to know who,” Frank cut in. “I don’t know if it was Grant Alexander, but he was hiding something, and it sure looked like Sheriff Pruitt was covering up for him.”

  “The whole thing seems fishy from Dino on down,” Bess said.

  “Smoked fishy,” Joe agreed, earning odd looks from Bess and George.

  “Sounds like we still have a lot more questions than answers,” I said, my head spinning with all the variables.

  “One fact I think we can all agree on is that Frank won the hack-off,” Joe declared.

  “You’re dreaming, Hardy. I totally crushed him!” George objected immediately.

  “Only if by ‘crushed’ you mean ‘didn’t do as well as,’ ” Joe shot back.

  “You’re just upset because your brother got whupped by a girl,” George snapped.

  “Dude, my bro stomped all over you in a totally equal-opportunity, gender-nonspecific way,” Joe argued.

  “Dude yourself, dude, the only one who did any stompage was me,” George retorted.

  “Okay, okay, you both win!” I cut in before we spent the rest of my stay arguing over who had out-hacked who.

  “But Frank wins more,” said Joe smugly.

  “Actually, I think George did some really great research,” Frank gushed.

  “Victory is mine!” George proclaimed.

  “Traitor,” Joe mumbled.

  Bess and I met eyes and smiled. George might have been oblivious to it, but it sure looked to us like she had an admirer.

  “So what’s next on your end of the investigation?” I asked Joe and Frank, trying to return the conversation to the topic at hand.

  “I’ll keep tailing Thorwald to see who else he meets with,” Joe said. “He’s been in town greasing palms all over the place.”

  “Joe will be keeping his distance, though,” Frank said pointedly. “The guy hangs out with a couple of nasty-looking bodyguards.”

  “I think I saw them on the way into town,” I shared, cringing at the thought of the two beefy thugs who’d escorted the expensively dressed businessman from the town hall. “Is Thorwald the one with the fancy overcoat?”

  “That’s him,” Frank confirmed.

  “Then distance is definitely called for,” I agreed. “Those guys were no joke.”

  “Yeah, they’re both nicknamed Tiny, apparently,” said Joe.

  “Doesn’t that get confusing?” Bess asked.

  “One’s Tiny Tony and the other’s Tiny Ronnie,” Joe explained.

  Bess giggled.

  “They’re a lot more terrifying than they sound,” Frank warned. “And they’ve been known to pound the heads of any protesters who get too close to their boss.”

  “Be careful,” I cautioned. “We’ve already had a Hardy boy locked up on this case; we don’t want the other to end up in the hospital.�
��

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  On the Edge

  I TRUSTED THE BOYS TO look out for themselves. The mission that had me really nervous was mine. Could my seemingly earnest eco-resort host Archie secretly be hedging his bets and setting himself up to profit off the pipeline? I was about to find out.

  I rolled into the reading room down the hall from Grant’s suite, where Henry told me I could find Archie.

  It was a beautiful old room with built-in bookshelves reaching all the way up to the high ceilings and a little reading nook in the corner. It even had one of those rolling staircases you could push around to reach books on the highest shelves.

  Archie was in front of the fire in a big leather chair with reading glasses on, reviewing some paperwork. He looked up and smiled as I wheeled myself in.

  “Nancy!” he exclaimed. “How’s your leg?”

  “It feels okay. My ankle hurts, but it’s not too bad, and my upper leg doesn’t really hurt at all,” I said, neglecting to mention my heart hurting at the thought of the interrogation I was about to give him.

  I shivered a little, a draft of cool air giving my broken leg a chill through the sock covering the exposed toes at the end of my cast as I rolled past the bookshelves to get closer to the fire.

  “Good! At least I don’t have to feel guilty about causing you too much pain,” he said. “Any news on the case?”

  I took a deep breath. “What do you know about the company All Alloy?”

  “All Alloy?” He took a moment to think, or at least that was how he wanted it to look. “They’re a solar panel parts manufacturer, I believe. I think we have some of their stock in the firm’s investment portfolio. Are you . . .” Archie took off his glasses. “Nancy, why would you be looking into our investments?”

  “Because this one is also the main supplier of a key part used in the construction of the pipeline,” I informed him.

  “They’re what?!” Archie blurted. “If that’s true, I’m glad you caught it. I’ll have Grant tell our broker to divest it right away. Our portfolio is supposed to be strictly clean and green, but it can be hard to vet every company entirely.”