If Looks Could Kill (4 page)

“Come on, you two,” she said to Bess and George. “We'd better get unpacked. It's getting close to dinnertime.”

The girls rose and Martika pointed them down the hallway toward the lobby. “You're on the second floor at the far end of the building. Suite Two Twenty-five. See you at dinner,” she said. “And thanks again. I'm glad you're all here—now I don't feel so alone.” Martika gave them a little wave before reentering her suite.

The girls had to pass through the lobby. There they stopped to examine a bulletin board. “Oh, look!” George said excitedly. “Kurt's giving that body-sculpting demonstration he told us about. I think we should go.”

Nancy read the handwritten notice. “Body scupting demonstration by Kurt Yeager. Today from five-thirty to six. Fitness studio.”

“It's five-forty now,” Bess pointed out, glancing at the clock on the lobby wall. “If we hurry, we can still catch half of it.”

“I'm into it,” George said. “What about you, Nan? After all, he did invite us.”

“Sure,” Nancy said. She took down the note and put it into the pocket of her white jeans. “Evidence,” she explained as they headed outside and down the path, following signs to the workout center. “Body
scupting?
Maybe it's just coincidence, but Kurt Yeager sure can't spell.”

“You don't really think—I mean, he's so nice,” Bess said.

“So gorgeous, you mean,” Nancy corrected. “Since when are gorgeous guys innocent?”

Bess frowned, but none of them said anything.

The white gravel path they were on ended at the workout center. They entered the skylighted lobby where there were plush chairs, a health food snack bar, and a small shop crowded with racks of colorful workout clothes. The attendant at the front desk directed them down a long corridor to the exercise studio where Kurt was giving his demonstration.

Nancy nudged the door open and admired the highly polished wood floor and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Kurt Yeager was raising and lowering two ten-pound hand weights to the strains of hard-driving rock. He wore biking shorts and no
shirt. From the sidelines, a dozen women were watching him admiringly.

“Now I can die completely happy,” Bess said with a sigh. George rolled her eyes at Bess's comment. When Kurt saw them and flashed them a blinding smile, Nancy saw George redden.

The demonstration went on for a few more minutes, with Kurt showing how to work various muscles in the arms and back using the weights. He finished with a series of stomach crunches to strengthen the abdominals. Then he sprang up and grinned. “That's all for today, ladies. Thanks for coming, and sorry I was late getting here. Tomorrow afternoon I'll be leading a body-sculpting class. Hope to see you all here.”

After chatting with a few stragglers, Kurt wandered over to the three girls. “Glad you made it,” he said.

“Sorry we were late,” George apologized.

“Kurt, you said you were late, too. What held you up?” Nancy asked.

“Oh, I had to get the celebrities settled—Martika's orders. The way she figures it, all the paying guests will get a thrill from hanging out with stars. Besides, the press will focus on the celebrities. So if they're happy, the write-ups will be good. So keeping them happy is my job.”

“Are they happy so far?” George asked.

Kurt laughed. “Some of them can be pretty hard to please. Morgana Ricci, the shipping heiress, was furious about her eating regimen. She's limited to twelve hundred calories a day, and she's not happy.”

“How did you handle her?” Nancy asked.

“I told her our nutritionists would be happy to devise a more flexible diet for her,” he said, giving them a wink.

“Morgana Ricci really could stand to take off a few pounds,” Bess chimed in. “Of course, who couldn't?” she added, biting her lip.

“Meaning you?” Kurt asked, surprised. “You look great. But your point is well taken. There's hardly anybody who couldn't be in a little better shape.”

“Seeing to all those people must have taken forever,” Nancy said. She was wondering if Kurt had had time to let Squeeze out of his cage and push the note under Martika's door.

“Only about an hour,” Kurt said. As he walked them back to the main house, Nancy made a mental note to cross-check his story with the celebrity guests.

The girls went up to their suite, which was a smaller, simpler version of Martika's, but with the same great views.

“Hey, look!” Bess said, going over to one of the beds. “There are gift packs for us.”

George checked out her bed and opened the pack. “A Cloud Nine water bottle with straw, fanny pack, T-shirt, and—oh, neat—a tube of Cloud Nine organic moisturizer.”

After going through their gifts, the girls began to freshen up and change.

“Our very own Jacuzzi,” Bess called out from the bathroom.

“I figure I'll need a good soak after working out,” George said, peeking in the doorway. She stopped in front of a dresser near the bathroom door. “Hey,” she said, picking up a sheet of paper. “We have to fill out these forms for our personal fitness consultations.”

“After dinner, George,” Nancy said. “If we don't hurry, we're going to be late.”

As soon as they were ready, they made their way down to the main dining room, which was already crowded with what seemed to be about two hundred guests.

The room, which overlooked the back patio, was furnished formally, French chateau style. At one end, on a raised dais, was Martika's table. She sat in the center seat, flanked by Helen MacArthur, editor of
Savoir Faire
, and Preston Winchell. On the financier's other side was a beaming Mrs. Smythe.

The maitre d' showed the girls to a table, and Nancy found herself sitting next to Christina
Adams. She suspected that Martika had arranged it that way so that she could keep an eye on Christina.

Kurt Yeager was also at their table, next to George, and Derek was sitting beside Bess. Martika's brother seized the opportunity to flirt outrageously with Bess, while she giggled at everything he whispered in her ear.

When all the guests were assembled, Martika stood and tapped her knife on her water glass. The diners quieted down, and Martika began to speak.

“I'd like to welcome you all again to Cloud Nine,” she said warmly. “I hope you have a week to remember for the rest of your lives.”

After a brief but spirited round of applause, she continued, “I know you are here to relax and enjoy yourselves, and of course Cloud Nine is the perfect place to do that. But you are also here for life-changing reasons, too—be they physical, mental, or spiritual. You'll be following a personalized regimen of workouts and treatments designed just for you. And we promise to do everything in our power to help you.”

Martika sat down to more applause as the waiters served the vegetable pâté appetizer. Nancy knew that all the meals at Cloud Nine were planned and prepared to be nutritious and low in calories. One bite of the pâté told her that she
could count on their tasting delicious, too. After the first course came filet of sole Florentine and a salad, topped off by lemon sorbet for dessert.

Turned out in a dramatic green dress, Christina kept casting sly glances at Martika's table and, particularly, at Preston Winchell. Every time he noticed her, she smiled bewitchingly. It was obvious to Nancy that she was already trying to woo Winchell and his wallet away from Martika.

When she wasn't eyeing the financier, Christina gossiped mercilessly about Martika. “Did you know that her real name is Sawin, not Sawyer?” Christina said at one point. “They had to change their last name because her father was involved in a stock scandal of some kind.”

Nancy casually mentioned Martika's boa constrictor, trying to get a reaction out of the woman. If Christina was behind the release of the snake, she hid it well. No surprise registered on her pretty face.

At one point Nancy caught sight of Maura McDaniel, the young woman she'd met on the boat ride from St. Thomas. Sitting at a table with Morgana Ricci and Sadie Thomas, Maura stood out because she was so plain. Not only that, she seemed miserable. Nobody was paying the slightest bit of attention to her.

Excusing herself after dessert, Nancy went
over to say hello to Maura. “How are you doing?” she asked the New Zealander.

Maura shrugged lightly. “Oh, all right, I guess,” she said, and then looked away. “I've been a bit homesick, to tell the truth,” she finally admitted.

“Really?” Nancy asked. “But this is such a beautiful place—” Nancy stopped in midsentence, realizing that it might be all the beauty that was making Maura feel insecure.

“It
is
lovely,” Maura agreed. “But I miss my home. I miss my dad 'specially. He died a few months ago.”

“Oh. I'm sorry,” Nancy said sympathetically.

“I'm all alone now,” Maura said with a sigh, but then she grinned. “Maybe when I've been transformed into a ‘new me' I'll find somebody, eh?”

“I'm sure you will,” Nancy said reassuringly. Privately, she thought Maura needed a massive injection of self-confidence to attract people. “Well, I'd better get back to my table. See you tomorrow?”

“I hope so,” Maura said. “You're very nice to come over and talk to me. Nancy, is it?”

Nancy turned back to her own table just in time to see Derek getting up. With a quick glance to make sure Martika wasn't checking on him, he left the room. Nancy couldn't help thinking that he was acting guilty about something. On a
hunch, she followed him out into the lobby and then down the hall, keeping a safe distance between them.

Derek made a beeline for Martika's suite. When he reached the door, Nancy ducked into an alcove, where she could secretly watch him. He pulled something out of his pocket and jimmied the door open with it. It appeared to be a pick. Maybe someone
had
stolen his key, she thought.

Derek went inside, and before the self-closing door swung shut behind him, Nancy got a hand on the knob.

Holding the door slightly ajar, Nancy could see a small segment of the room, one that included Martika's white-lacquered desk. As it turned out, she didn't need to see more of the suite because Derek went directly to the desk. Using the pick again, he opened the top drawer and pulled out a large checkbook. As he opened it, he picked up the phone and punched in seven numbers. No area code, Nancy thought. So he had to be calling somewhere in the U.S. Virgin Islands.

“Hello?” Derek said, tearing a check out of the book and writing on it. “It's me, Derek. Now wait a minute, don't get hot under the collar. I'll get you the money I owe you. I'm writing out a Cloud Nine check right now. There'll be more soon. Believe me—”

The conversation lasted for a minute longer,
with the person on the other end doing most of the talking. Finally Derek hung up, folded the check in half, and put it in his pocket.

Nancy could barely believe what she'd just seen. Unless she was mistaken, Derek Sawyer was stealing from his own sister!

N
ANCY WATCHED
, rooted to the spot, as Derek returned the checkbook to the drawer. While he was bending over to do so, she let the door close silently and ran toward the lobby. Just before she got there she saw a ladies' room and went in, staying until she was reasonably sure Derek had passed.

By the time she returned to the dining room, Bess and George were getting up from their chairs. “Guess what, Nan?” Bess said excitedly. “During dinner Derek asked me to go dancing with him tomorrow night!”

“Are you sure you're going to feel like dancing after a day of workouts?” Nancy asked.

“Oh, don't worry about me,” Bess said. “I'll be fine. I'm going to lose five pounds, too. By tomorrow night I may even have sweated them
off. Then I can spend the rest of the week eating and hanging out!”

Nancy laughed as they made their way upstairs to their suite. “But I think there's something you should know about Derek.”

“He's tall, dark, and handsome,” Bess said. “What else is there to know?”

When they were inside their suite, Nancy told her friends what she had just seen.

Bess was sobered by the news. “Well, at least I can try to find out what he's up to,” she offered.

“Great,” Nancy said.

“Speaking of men,” Bess said, turning to George, “tell Nan about your big date.”

“Big date?” Nancy repeated.

“She's teasing,” George said to Nancy. “Kurt asked me to play tennis with him. He has an hour free before lunch. So when I make up my schedule in the morning, I'll work it around that. I know I want to try water aerobics and run the par course. Maybe some snorkeling, too. Of course, if you need me for any investigating, Nan . . .”

“We'll see,” Nancy said. “In any case, Kurt's one of our main suspects, so don't get too dreamy eyed. Do try to draw him out about Martika, though.”