Recipe for Murder (6 page)

DuPres muttered a few words in French, high spots of color on his cheeks. Shaking his finger at the door, DuPres said, “I take back what I said. Paul Slesak could want me dead! He could! He wants this school for himself!”

“Enough to kill for it?” Nancy asked softly, waiting for DuPres to calm down.

“Maybe,” he muttered, sinking slowly back into his seat. “Maybe.”

“Let's go back to where we were before Chef Slesak interrupted,” Nancy suggested. “You said the murderer must have made a mistake.”

“That is correct.”

“Well, that may be,” Nancy said, treading
carefully. “But you and Chef Richards don't look anything alike. It seems more likely that whoever killed Richards did it on purpose.”

DuPres leaned back in his chair, his face tired and pale. “The reason I say the killers were after me is because I did not have a heart attack. I was poisoned. The police have not leaked this to the press at my request. I did not want the reputation of the school jeopardized.”

A chill ran down Nancy's spine. She'd been right all along. “Do the police have any clues?”

“Not yet. But I will make sure they put Chef Slesak on the top of their list of suspects!”

“Will you tell me about the threats you received?” Nancy asked.

DuPres took a deep breath. “Just before the poisoning I received a message—a message I could not mistake. It was a note with a skull and crossbones on it.”

“Where is it now?” Nancy asked.

“It is missing. Someone took it from my chef's jacket sometime after I collapsed.”

That could have been easy for Paul Slesak to engineer, Nancy thought grimly, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

“But that is not all,” Chef DuPres went on. “A few weeks ago I was nearly run down by a delivery van here at the school. At first I thought it was an accident, but now I am sure it was not. The van could have easily avoided me.”

“What kind of van was it?”

“It was unmarked. Gray. All I saw as it sped away was a broken taillight.”

“Well, that's something to go on at least,” Nancy murmured.

“I have told you these things only because you persisted, but you must not involve yourself any further, Ms. Drew.” Chef DuPres frowned. “It is too dangerous.”

“I'll watch my step,” Nancy assured him. “But I can't give up the investigation now that I have something to go on.” There was nothing more Nancy could say. Thanking DuPres for confiding in her, she walked out of his office.

Could Paul Slesak have murdered Trent Richards? she asked herself. Why? What, if anything, was the connection between the two men? It was more likely by far that Slesak was after DuPres. The pastry chef hadn't exactly kept it a secret that he was interested in running the school.

But DuPres's theory that the murderer had simply made a mistake didn't wash.

Nancy heaved a sigh of relief when her cooking class finally ended for that day. She needed to talk to Ned without fear of someone—such as Jacques Bonet—overhearing.

“We had a powwow at lunch,” Ned told her as they walked back to the hotel. “George and I outvoted Bess and decided on pizza for dinner.”

“What did Bess want?” Nancy squinted as she
looked up at him. Even this late in the afternoon the sun was still beastly.

“French food,” Ned said with a grimace. “Your friend Bonet really made an impression on her.”

“He's not just
my
friend,” she said, digging through her purse for her sunglasses. “You know him as well as I do. Oh, no— I've lost my sunglasses. They were on my head in DuPres's office, but they must have slipped off.”

Nancy glanced back. They were over halfway to the hotel. She was too hot and tired to go back for them.

“Tell you what,” Ned said. “Let's go to the hotel and have a swim. We'll pick up your sunglasses on the way to get pizza.”

“Good idea,” Nancy said.

After a cooling swim and a nap on the sun deck, Nancy felt a thousand times better. When George and Ned said they were ready to get the pizza, she declined a ride. “I feel like walking,” she said. “How about you, Bess? Want to come along?”

Bess lifted her own sunglasses to the top of her head, grimacing at her sun-pinkened skin. “Sure, why not?”

Dusk was falling as the two girls walked down the pathway to the school. “I'll wait in the main building,” Bess said. “I'd like to talk to Chef Slesak for a minute.”

“Be careful,” Nancy warned. “Chef DuPres doesn't trust him.”

Nancy crossed to DuPres's office building and climbed the stairs to the second floor. She tried his door, but it was locked tight.

When she returned to the main building, Bess wasn't outside waiting. “Hurry up, Bess,” Nancy muttered, then tried the door to the school. Locked.

Nancy began walking slowly back to the hotel. George and Ned were undoubtedly back with the pizza. But where was Bess?

Evening shadows were lengthening near the towering laurel hedge along the walkway. Was that something moving ahead of her? Nancy stopped, squinting into the gathering darkness.

“Bess?” she called. “Are you there?”

The only answer was the rustle of leaves. In spite of the heat Nancy shivered.

She picked up her pace, circumventing the laurel hedge, crossing the street, and pausing under the light cast by the hotel's outdoor lamps.

Then, from a distance, Nancy heard, “N-a-a-a-ancy! Wait up!”

It was Bess! Straining her eyes, Nancy caught sight of her friend. She was across the street.

Nancy waved, then hurried back to meet her friend. She caught up with her near the laurel bushes. “Bess! Where have you been? I thought you had gone back.”

“Nancy!” Bess grabbed her arm. “I saw Paul Slesak go into the school, so I followed him!”

Nancy's pulse quickened. “What happened?”

“He unlocked the door to his office and went inside. I peeked in through the door window and saw him go to his desk and unlock a drawer. Then he pulled out a white folder and all of a sudden he got really upset.”

“By what he found in the folder?” Nancy asked.

“I guess so. He slammed his fist on the desktop and started yelling. Half of it was in German. I could barely understand him.”

“But you could understand some of it?”

“Yes. He was mad about his recipes, about not being able to trust anyone.”

“He complained about his recipes to Claude DuPres earlier today,” Nancy said.

Quickly Nancy glanced around. Was someone there? Watching them? “Bess, come on. Let's get back to the hotel.”

Before they could move, a white-robed figure suddenly sprang from behind the laurel hedge. Bess screamed as the figure swooped down on her.

But the figure wasn't after Bess. It was after Nancy. As she moved forward it grabbed her in a viselike grip, pinning her arms to her sides.

It's a man! Nancy thought wildly, struggling
with all her might against his incredible strength to see his face. But it was covered by a stocking.

Just as Nancy opened her mouth to scream, his white-gloved hand reached up and closed around her throat, cutting off her air.

Her attacker was strangling her!

N
ANCY
!” B
ESS SHRIEKED
, running toward her to try to save her.

Nancy felt a release of pressure as her assailant turned to deal Bess one stunning blow. It sent her friend reeling backward.

Nancy pried at her attacker's fingers, gulping air. She was nearly free! She twisted, loosening his grip, and bit down hard on his wrist. He howled in pain—but then his fingers found her neck again. Was he going to kill her on the spot?

No. He was starting to drag her away.

“Nancy!” Bess screamed again, struggling to her feet. She flung herself on the white-robed attacker, but he knocked her down easily.

Dimly, Nancy heard running footsteps somewhere behind her.

“Let her go!” a familiar voice shouted grimly, and Ned hurled himself straight at the assailant.

Nancy felt a hard thud—and then she was free. Gasping, she staggered to her feet, her hands at her throat. Ned and the assailant were locked together, rolling on the ground.

“Ned!” she screamed, but her voice was weak and scratchy. She had to help him! She searched for a weapon—and then, to her horror, she saw the assailant's hand grabbing a rock.

“No!” Nancy lunged forward just as the attacker smashed the rock against Ned's temple. Ned crumpled, and the white-robed man twisted away, scrambling to his feet and leaving Nancy clutching at his billowing cape.

Nancy took two steps after him, but knew she would never catch him.

“Oh, Ned,” she murmured, turning back and bending over him.

His eyes fluttered open. He groaned, reaching for his head.

“Is he all right?” Bess asked tremulously, getting to her feet.

“I'm okay, I think,” Ned said, sitting up. “What about you?”

“I'm fine—now. Thanks to you.”

Ned drew a deep breath and let it out again. “Who was that guy?”

“I don't know. I never saw his face. But he was in a chef's outfit, and he had on some kind of white robe.”

Ned just looked at her. “A chef's outfit? This gets crazier by the minute. What was he trying to do to you?”

“I don't know, but it's clear somebody doesn't want me snooping around. How did you manage to rescue me just at the right moment?”

“When you didn't come back I got worried. I told George to stay at the hotel, and then I came looking for you.” He stood up, swaying a bit.

Nancy put her arm around his waist. “Maybe you should lean on me,” she suggested.

“Oh!” Bess suddenly exclaimed. “What if that guy was—”

“Shhh!” Nancy said. “Let's not talk here.” With her arm firmly clasped around Ned's waist, she urged him in the direction of the hotel.

When they entered the lobby, they found George waiting anxiously. “What
happened
to you guys?” she asked. She was stunned when they recounted their story.

“He was so fast I couldn't even use judo on him,” Nancy finished. She glanced anxiously once more at Ned's bump. “You sure you're all right?”

“I'm just hungry,” he told her.

“Then you guys go down and sit in the rec room, and I'll bring the pizza,” George said.

Nancy, Ned, and Bess found an empty card table. When they'd sat down, they realized that everyone was staring at them.

“I guess we look pretty bad, huh?” Bess remarked, wincing as she combed her blond hair with her fingers.

“Pretty bad,” Ned agreed. “How's the throat?” he asked Nancy as George reappeared with the pizza.

“Okay,” Nancy said, taking a slice. “But whoever attacked me wasn't kidding around.”

Ned frowned. “This case is becoming dangerous.”

“So what's the next move?” George asked Nancy.

Nancy picked up a Ping-Pong paddle and twirled it around in her hand. “Why was that guy wearing a chef's jacket?” Nancy asked. “It's a dead giveaway that he's associated with the cooking school.”

“Paul Slesak,” George stated with certainty.

Nancy shook her head. “It could have been, but we have no proof.” Her expression grew thoughtful. “Someone must have overheard me talking to Chef DuPres. Or else he overheard my conversation with Bess. Why else would he feel threatened by me?”

“Didn't you say Slesak interrupted your meeting?” George said.

“He saw me there,” Nancy agreed. “He could have been listening at the door.”

Ned had been noticeably quiet. Now he spoke up. “I don't suppose you could blame this on Jacques Bonet?”

“Oh, you!” Bess threw a Ping-Pong ball at him. “It's no crime to be devastatingly handsome.”

Ned made a gagging sound, and Nancy had to laugh. “Jacques doesn't seem to fit into the scheme of things,” she said. “He said himself that he doesn't want to run the cooking school. He likes traveling around to different places.”

“Maybe there's something else going on,” Ned suggested.

Nancy nodded. “Trent Richards has to fit in somewhere. Bess, you still keep your eye on Paul Slesak, okay? But watch your step. He might be dangerous. I'll try to find out more from Claude DuPres and Jacques Bonet.”

Ned held up his hand. “Whoa. Where does that leave me?
I'll
take care of Bonet.”

“Okay.” Nancy smiled. “But remember, he's not a criminal—so far as we know.”

“So far as we know,” Ned repeated, his voice distinctly chilly. “So far as we know.”

• • •

On the way to class the following morning Nancy squeezed Ned's hand. “Cover for me, will you?” she said. “I'm going to try to see Claude DuPres again and pick up my sunglasses.”