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Authors: Carolyn Keene

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“So you didn't mean to poison him?” said Bess. “Oh, I'm so relieved!”

“No, I didn't. When I added the calomel to his sweetener in the kitchen, I had no idea he'd react that way. To tell you the truth, I was pretty freaked out. I mean, I wanted to play a few tricks—not poison someone.”

Was it Nancy's imagination, or was Jake actually acting sorry? Maybe they
could
reason with him. It might be their only hope. Even if Tim had already called the police, they wouldn't arrive for another ten minutes or so.

“I didn't mean to set you on fire, either, Nancy,” Jake went on in the same contrite tone. “I just thought it would be funny to scare you. In fact, I didn't know you were going to be up there. I was just planning to dump the flour on my stepmother. But you came up on stage, and the fire started, and—and all of a sudden I wasn't a prankster anymore. I mean, who would believe I hadn't known that either the poisoning or the fire was going to happen? Everything kind of—you know—snowballed. I suddenly realized that if I got caught, I was going to go to jail!” He looked appalled.

“That's when I stashed the jar of sweetener in Sam's closet. If the police started looking for evidence, I figured they could have fun trying to pin it on Miss Goody Two-shoes.”

“No wonder you wanted me out of the way,” Nancy said as sympathetically as she could. “It must have seemed like I was the only person standing between you and your freedom.”

He shot Nancy a glance that seemed almost apologetic. “That's right. I didn't want to hurt you. I even kind of liked you. But, of course, I couldn't let you ruin my life, could I?”

“And that's why you lured her to that hole in the floor?” asked George.

“Yup. I hoped that either that or the chisel
would finish her off. I have pretty good aim. I play a lot of darts.”

Jake stared down at the saw. “This should be pretty foolproof, though,” he mused.

Then he looked back up at Nancy. “I've got to hand it to you,” he told her. “You caught me fair and square. I wasn't even a strong suspect, was I?”

“No, you—”

“Wait a minute.”
Jake's voice was suddenly electric with menace. “Speaking of suspects—
where's Tim?”

Glaring at the girls, he whipped the saw back off its stand.

Uh-oh! thought Nancy hopelessly.

“He sneaked out of here, didn't he? He's going to call the police!” Jake was beginning to scream. “Well, he's not going to get the chance! None of you will ever have a chance again! Say goodbye to one another because—
here goes!”

Nancy didn't have time to react before he leapt toward the gas pipe.

In the next instant, though, the room was plunged into darkness.

“Hey!” came Jake's furious voice. “What the—”

For a split second Nancy thought that somehow the lights had gone out because Jake had sawed the pipe in two. Then she realized that that couldn't be it.

Tim must have found the circuit breaker! He must have switched off the lights—and the electric saw. That meant all Nancy had to do was—

She hurled herself toward the darkness and smashed full force into Jake. “George! Bess! Over here!” she screamed. “Help me!”

“I'm right behind you,” George called back. The three girls yelled that they had pinned him down, and Tim switched the lights back on.

Looking up, Nancy saw Tim was standing in the doorway.

“The police are on their way,” he said grimly.

• • •

“I know we ought to thank you, Nancy—but I can't make myself feel grateful yet,” said Samantha.

It had been an hour since they'd subdued Jake. Samantha and Tim were sitting in the living room with Nancy, Bess, and George. The police had taken Jake away, and Mrs. and Mrs. Tagley left immediately after that to speak with their lawyer.

Amazingly, the other guests were still enjoying the dance. Samantha had made up some excuse for the blackout. And with the music and dancing to distract everyone, they had been able to keep Jake's arrest fairly quiet.

“I can't make myself feel much of anything except sick,” Samantha continued. “This is a terrible, terrible tragedy for my family. I—I know Jake isn't my real brother, but he seems like one. I can't forgive myself for thinking that I somehow pushed him into doing this.”

“I know you must feel that way,” said Nancy sympathetically. “But I don't think anything you did or didn't do made any difference. Once Jake
started to realize the consequences of what he had done, I think he went over the edge.”

“Yes, but he would never have had to play those tricks In the first place if he hadn't felt so jealous of me!” Samantha's voice was trembling.

“You did nothing wrong, Sam,” Tim said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Jake just has very serious problems.”

“Oh, Tim, I'm sorry if I've been taking you for granted,” Samantha said sadly.

She looked over at Nancy, Bess, and George. “Would you mind leaving us alone for a little while? Tim and I have a lot to talk about. We've had a lot to talk about for a while now.”

• • •

“Nancy, wait!” Samantha's voice rang out as Nancy, Bess, and George were leaving the dining room the next morning.

Samantha rushed toward them, her white skirt flapping around her legs. She looked much happier. In fact, she looked radiant. And Tim, who was standing behind her in shorts and a polo shirt, was grinning broadly.

“I wanted you three to be the first to know,” she said breathlessly. “Tim and I are engaged!”

“What wonderful news!” Nancy said, giving her a warm hug. “When did all this happen?”

“Right after you left us last night,” Samantha told her. “We got everything out in the open. My feelings about Brock and my role in the inn, and Tim's role in the inn—”

“And
my
feelings about Brock,” said Tim with a chuckle, “which, as you may have guessed,
aren't love filled. But Sam convinced me that I really had nothing to worry about.”

“I did drag Brock out here all the way from Hollywood,” said Samantha. “I didn't think it would be very nice to keep reminding him that I was going out with someone else. But it's all straightened out now.”

“I also got Sam to promise not to work so hard,” said Tim. “If we're going to get married, I want a wife I can spend time with once in a while.”

“Well, you'll get to see me
at
work,” Samantha pointed out, taking his hand and squeezing it. “We're going to run the inn together,” she explained. “I finally realized that it really is too big a job for me. There's plenty of room for two people at the top—especially two people in love.

“I had a big talk with Mom last night, too,” Samantha went on in a rush. “You can't believe how upset she is about what happened. I feel guilty—but she feels even worse.”

For an instant her smile wavered. “Mom's not great at leaving things to other people,” Samantha added. “But I think that this time she's really going to let me be in charge. She says this whole thing with Jake has changed her priorities.”

“Well, that's great,” said Bess. “What about Brock?” she added, trying to be casual. “What does he think about all this?”

“I think it's great, too,” a deep voice spoke up.

None of them had noticed Brock walking up
behind Samantha and Tim. He put an arm around Samantha's shoulders and slapped Tim on the back.

“The news about Samantha and Tim, I mean,” he clarified. “No one could wish them more happiness than I do.”

Then his expression became serious. “And no one could feel sorrier for Jake than I do. I've decided not to press charges, Sam.”

“You—you have?” Samantha stammered.

Brock nodded. “Jake needs a lot of help. As long as he gets it, I'm not going to hold a grudge. There's been too much of that already. It's time to move on.”

“Speaking of moving on,” asked George, “what's happening with the festival?”

Samantha giggled. “I'll have to make sure not to forget about it, won't I? Today should be pretty easy. Five guest chefs are giving workshops. Do any of you want to come?”

Nancy and her friends looked at one another for a few seconds. “You know, I don't think so,” Nancy said at last. “I feel as though it's time to head home.” Her friends nodded in agreement.

“Oh, that will never do,” said Brock promptly. A mischievous light was dancing in his dazzling blue eyes. “I'm leaving for home tomorrow myself. We can't let everything fizzle out this way.”

He smiled down at Bess. “So, Bess, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to a movie this afternoon?”

• • •

“He's coming in five minutes!
Five more minutes!”
caroled Bess, dancing around the living room of the girls' suite.

From where she lay stretched out on the sofa, Nancy looked up at her friend. Bess was wearing a pink minidress that showed off her curvy figure perfectly. And her excitement had brought a flush to her cheeks that only added to her appeal. Brock Sawyer, look out!

“Calm down,” said George. “You'll fall and break your leg, and then Brock will have to take
you
to the hospital instead of the movies.”

Bess flopped down into a chair. “Wouldn't you guys like to finish my packing for me? When I come back, I
know
I won't feel like it.”

“Forget it,” Nancy told her. “I've got enough problems with my own suitcase. Why is it that the stuff you take home always takes up three times more space than the stuff you brought with you?”

“Oh, all right. I'll do it myself later.” Suddenly Bess brightened. “After all, I may have to tuck in some little present. Brock might be feeling sentimental—you never know.”

“Maybe he'll even give you a nice, big box of chocolates,” said George. “Something that will
really
make you remember this trip.”

“No way,” said Bess immediately. “You guys aren't going to believe this, but I've had
enough chocolate to last me the rest of my life.”

Nancy grinned. “You know, Bess, I do believe you,” she said. “I don't want to go near chocolate for a long, long time. But I'm glad this case had a sweet ending after all.”

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Simon Pulse

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Copyright © 1991 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

ISBN: 978-0-6717-3065-9 (pbk)

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