Sweet Revenge (5 page)

“Impossible,” Bess said promptly. “I mean, I've eaten about four thousand chocolate things today, and I still can't
wait
to try those new chocolate creams Samantha was telling us about.”

“They did sound pretty scrumptious,” George agreed.

At dinner Samantha had announced that Oakwood Inn was planning to launch a line of its own homemade chocolates. And Brock Sawyer was going to give the new chocolates their first official taste.

“I wonder how famous you have to be before you're asked to be a taste tester at one of these things,” Bess said longingly. “Oh, look, there's Brock! I'll ask
him.”
She bolted across the room toward the actor.

Nancy chuckled. “Bess doesn't believe in playing hard to get, does she?” she said to George. “Let's go see how her tactics are working.”

When they reached Bess, she was saying, “But don't you get full? I can't eat more than a bite of these rich desserts, myself.”

George elbowed Nancy in the ribs, and Nancy had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. But Brock seemed to buy Bess's act.

The actor shook some of his special artificial sweetener into a glass of iced tea he was holding and took a big swig. “I'm just grateful I've got such a great nutritionist,” he told Bess. “If she hadn't told me about this sweetener, I'd be a total blimp, with all the sampling I'm supposed to be
doing. But I admit I'm looking forward to sampling these chocolates.”

Brock set his glass down on a coffee table. “At least I would be, if I were hungrier. That dinner did me in. I wonder if—”

“Ready, Brock?” Samantha spoke up from behind him. She was wearing a red dress that set off her dark hair, which fell in pretty waves down her back. In her hands was a gleaming red box tied with a silver ribbon.

“I sure am.” Brock was a little pale, but his voice was resolute as he followed Samantha to the fireplace. “Nice talking to you, Bess.”

As the girls squeezed into a love seat near the fireplace, Samantha held the red box aloft. “Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please. I'd like you to meet my mother's newest candy—Silk and Cream Chocolates! They're really something—made with pure Wisconsin cream and imported Belgian chocolate, from a recipe formulated by my mother. Tomorrow Silk and Cream Chocolates will hit the stores, but tonight our star taster will enjoy the very first bite!”

Samantha handed the red box to Brock. “These are my own personal favorites—Lemon Mousse Truffles.”

Brock pulled the ribbon open with a long, sweeping dramatic gesture. He reached in and lifted out a dark chocolate shaped like a heart.

“These look fabulous,” he said, then popped it into his mouth.

Nancy saw a look of surprise cross Brock's
face, but all he said was “And they—uh—they taste fabulous, too!” He reached for another truffle, but Nancy noticed that he was wincing as he tried to chew it.

“I don't think he likes them,” George commented, sounding puzzled.

Brock kept chewing. “I'll hate myself tomorrow,” he said, “but—”

Abruptly he stopped. His face registered shock, not surprise any longer, Nancy noticed. Clutching his stomach, he moaned. “Sam, there's something wrong with these,” he managed to get out.

There was a nervous titter from some of the guests.

“Oh, Brock, stop it,” Samantha laughed. Giving him a jovial punch in the shoulder, she added, “He's such a kidder. Aren't you, Brock?”

Brock didn't answer. He just fell forward, bent over double.

Then, twisting in agony, he collapsed to the floor.

N
ANCY LEAPT
to her feet and raced to him. “Brock, are you all right?” she asked urgently.

The only answer was a dreadful moan.

“Brock?” Samantha shouted in a panicked voice.
“Brock?”

Bending over, Nancy shook his shoulder. At her touch Brock fell onto his back.

Bess screamed, and a chorus of gasps and cries rose from the other guests.

“What's the matter?” shouted a woman wearing a press pass. She rushed forward—but stopped short when she saw Brock. His face was gray and flecked with sweat, and his lips were drawn back into a shocking grimace of agony. His blue eyes were bulging and staring, as if he couldn't focus.

“Help me. Please!” he managed to gasp out.

“Is there a doctor here?” someone called.

“I'll call an ambulance,” Jake Tagley spoke up in a take-charge tone. He dashed out the door.

“Brock, can you hear me?” Nancy asked as calmly as she could. “We're getting help.”

Brock didn't respond. Nancy checked his pulse. It was shallow, and his wrist was icy.

Sobbing, Samantha threw herself down next to Brock. “Say something, Brock,” she begged. “I can't believe this is happening!”

Gripping both of his hands tightly, she stared up at Nancy. “He's—he's not going to die, is he?”

But Nancy couldn't answer.

• • •

Half an hour later an ambulance pulled away from Oakwood Inn, carrying Brock to the hospital. Samantha had gone with him, so Mrs. Tagley was now frantically trying to put together an activity for the horrified guests.

Nancy, Bess, and George were still in the living room. A police car had arrived, and a gangling young officer named Steve Ullman was taking statements from the guests.

“You know, Nancy's a detective. She's incredible,” Bess said proudly when it was her turn to be questioned. “You should let her work with you on this case.”

Officer Ullman smiled politely. “We don't know if it's a case yet,” he said, flipping to a new page of his notebook. “But, of course, I'd be grateful for any help any of you can give me.”

“You should know about a couple of strange
things that happened earlier.” Nancy told him about the “accidents” that had taken place that day and about her suspicion that Brock was poisoned. “His attack came right after he'd eaten the first piece of chocolate.”

“Seems hard to believe it could work so fast without killing him,” Officer Ullman mused. He was eyeing Nancy with more respect now. “I'm not a poison expert, but I'll definitely take those chocolates back to the lab. You say you found the jar of ants hidden in the kitchen? Do you think any of the kitchen staff could be responsible?”

“It's hard to think of a motive, but I can check it out for you,” Nancy replied.

“I may be back myself, depending on what the lab boys turn up,” said Officer Ullman. “In the meantime, let me know if you find anything.”

Unfortunately, most of the staff had left for the evening by the time Nancy and her friends reached the kitchen. The lone waitress putting away some leftover chocolate-raspberry mousse torte had nothing to add to what the girls had seen for themselves.

“We'll have to try again tomorrow,” Nancy said, pushing through the kitchen doors into the deserted dining room. “Let's go up to the suite. I'd like to go over what we know so far”—she frowned—“which isn't much.”

“Oh, let's not go back up yet,” said George. “Couldn't we find some other room where we could talk in private? Our suite's so small it makes me feel claustrophobic.”

“Fine with me,” said Nancy. “But nothing on
the first floor where anyone could interrupt us or listen in.”

They settled on a small lounge in the basement that smelled as if it was a smoking room, probably for the staff.

“Well, Nan,” George said, settling into a battered armchair. “It looks as though you have another case on your hands.”

Nancy and Bess sat down on a couch covered with an Indian-print spread. “Whoever put the ants on that cake and tampered with the chocolate scale may have been playing a prank. But poisoning's no joke. Someone's definitely out to get Brock.”

“But who would want to hurt him?” Bess asked. “I mean, an actor might have enemies, but you'd expect them to be—oh, I don't know, rivals for acting parts or something. Who would try to attack an actor at a chocolate festival?”

Three names popped into Nancy's head immediately. “Tim might,” she said. “He's obviously jealous of Brock. And, maybe, Mrs. Tagley. She made the chocolates, so she had a perfect opportunity to poison them. I'm not sure what her motive would be, but I get the feeling that she's not crazy about Brock. I also don't trust Dan Avery. I have no idea what he's up to, but I did overhear him say he'd get Brock. Other than those three, I—”

Thwack! Thwack!

“What's that?” Bess asked. Nancy was the first to get up and walk to the doorway and out into
the hall. A light was on in an adjoining room. A pool table stood in the middle of the room, and board games were scattered on card tables with fold-out chairs around them. On the far wall was a dart board, at which Jake Tagley was just aiming his third dart.

“It's Jake,” she called back to Bess and George, who were still in the hall.

“Hi,” Jake said to the girls as they came over to join him. “I couldn't think of anything else to do. This is supposed to relax me, but I'm not sure it'll work.” Nancy noticed that Jake was speaking mostly to Bess.

“I don't blame you,” Bess said sympathetically. “We feel terrible about Brock, too. What a nightmare!” She shivered, and Jake stepped closer as if to protect her. “It's just so spooky thinking that there's someone out there who could . . .” Bess's voice trailed off, and she shuddered again.

“Don't worry,” said Jake, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I'll watch out for you.”

He tried to sound as if he was half joking, but his admiring gaze made Nancy sure he meant what he said. From the glazed expression in Bess's blue eyes, however, Nancy realized that Jake's concern for her friend wasn't even registering.

Jake seemed to notice Bess's indifference as well. To change course, he checked his watch and sighed. “So much for my dart game. I guess I should go help my dad a little before I call it a
night. He's a night owl and loves to work late. He's nailing down baseboards in the east wing.”

“And we might as well head up to the lobby and see what's going on,” Nancy said. “Maybe Mrs. Tagley has some news about Brock.”

They found Samantha's mother sitting at the front desk going over some flow charts. Seeing the girls, she put down her pen wearily. “Were you looking for something to do?” she asked the girls. “I'm afraid our evening plans have fizzled out.”

“We just wondered if there was any news about Brock,” Bess said.

“He's not doing well at all.”

Nancy thought she detected a strange note of satisfaction in Mrs. Tagley's voice. But why? Could it be that she disliked Brock so much that she was actually happy he was sick?

“Samantha called a little while ago,” Mrs. Tagley went on. “Brock's in intensive care, unconscious. The doctors suggested that Samantha come home because there's nothing she can do for him right now.”

Just then Nancy heard the front door open. She turned to see Samantha walking wearily up to the front desk, her face chalk white.

“M-Mother?”

“Hello, dear,” said Mrs. Tagley worriedly. “How are you doing?”

Before Samantha could answer, Bess spoke up. “How's Brock doing?”

“No change from the last time I checked in.
But I can tell that the police think”—Samantha's dark eyes filled with tears—“that they feel Brock was poisoned,” she choked out. “They were asking all kinds of questions about the chocolates. And about the guests here. And—and about Tim.”

“What about Tim?” Mrs. Tagley asked quickly.

“Things like where he was when Brock got sick,” Samantha said miserably, tears falling down her pale cheeks. “And whether he had access to the scale that dumped Brock into the chocolate. And if he had any reason to be jealous of Brock. Mother, I know they suspect Tim of poisoning Brock!”

“Oh, that's ridiculous,” said Mrs. Tagley, but Nancy didn't think she sounded convinced.

“B-but if it wasn't Tim, then who was it?”

There was an awful silence.

“I can't believe this is happening,” Samantha finally said, wiping her tears away. “I couldn't even face Tim right now. Things are awkward enough between us.” Brushing back a wayward strand of long hair, she glanced at the grandfather clock by the front door. “I should go up to bed, but first I need a glass of milk.”

“We should head upstairs, too,” said Nancy to Bess and George. “I'm sure we've got a big day ahead of us.” And not just tasting chocolate, she added wearily to herself.

Once they were in the elevator and out of earshot, Bess muttered, “I don't blame Tim for
being upset. Samantha's just running away from her problems. I mean, why is she so cozy with Brock if she's going with someone else?”