The Case of the Artful Crime (3 page)

“I bought them from a friend,” Shawn answered shortly.

Just then, Bess joined Nancy and Shawn. “How's it going?” she asked.

“Fine,” Nancy replied. “I've seen everything but the kitchen.”

“Bess, why don't you show Nancy the kitchen area?” Shawn suggested. “I have a million things to do right now.”

“No problem,” Bess said. “Come on, Nancy.”

Bess led Nancy through a set of swinging doors into a large, spotless, industrial kitchen. “This is the only part of the restaurant that hasn't been redone,” Bess confided. “It's your basic restaurant kitchen.”

Bess opened a drawer full of forks, knives, and spoons. “Here's the silverware, if you need it.” She then pulled open the white doors of a freestanding wooden cabinet near the front kitchen door. “All the linens are in here. Napkins, tablecloths, aprons, that kind of stuff. The busboys and girls usually deal with all that, though.”

Next, Nancy followed Bess to the middle of the kitchen. At the largest of three steel counters, a short, silver-haired man stood furiously pounding a ball of dough. “I'm about to introduce you to the world's grouchiest human,” Bess whispered. “Prepare yourself.”

Nancy grinned. “Go for it.”

“Jack,” Bess called, her voice especially genial. “Meet Nancy. She's a new waitress. This is chef Jack Henri.”

Jack looked up quickly. For a moment, Nancy felt as though his piercing dark eyes were boring right into her. Then he grunted and returned to his work.

“He's not exactly Mr. Personality,” Bess whispered. “He makes great desserts, though.”

At another counter stood a skinny, bespectacled young man of about twenty who was busy feeding carrot sticks into a food processor. Bess paused beside him. “This is Elliot Mifflin,” she said. “He's a prep cook. Elliot, meet Nancy.”

“Hi,” Elliot said.

“Hi,” Nancy replied. “I see you've got that down to a science,” she added, nodding toward the slivered carrots.

“That's me, Mr. Slice and Dice,” he said with a nervous laugh.

“Elliot!” Jack called gruffly, his rough voice bearing the trace of a French accent. “Get me maraschino cherries from the bar.”

Immediately, the food processor stopped whirring. “Right away. Oh, I should have done that earlier,” Elliot mumbled as he wiped his hands on his apron and hurried out of the kitchen.

“Doesn't he remind you of the white rabbit in
Alice in Wonderland?”
Nancy whispered as they moved away toward the back of the kitchen.

Bess's hand flew to her mouth, stifling her laughter. “He does,” she said, giggling.

At the back of the kitchen, near the rear entrance, was a small alcove. On the wall hung a metal case with card-filled slots. “These are the time cards,” Bess told Nancy. “Shawn will make up a card for you. You punch this time clock when you come in for each shift and punch out when you leave. And you're supposed to use the back door. The front entrance is for customers only.”

Nancy was only half-listening. She'd suddenly become aware of a faint, disturbing odor in the air. “Bess, do you smell smoke?” she asked.

“This
is
a kitchen,” Bess teased. But her expression turned serious as she sniffed the air. “You're right. That doesn't smell good at all.”

“Jack!” Nancy called as the girls dashed out of the alcove. “Jack!”

There was no reply.

“Oh, no!” Bess shouted when they came to a halt in the middle of the kitchen. The tall linen closet had toppled onto its side—and it was a roaring blaze of flame!

Immediately, Nancy reached for the red fire extinguisher on the wall. She took aim and squeezed the handle, but nothing came out. “This thing is empty,” she cried, tossing it aside. “Let's get out of here!” Since the overturned cabinet completely blocked the door to the dining room, Nancy grabbed Bess's arm and pulled her toward the rear exit.

Bess ran ahead, lunging for the back door. She grabbed the handle and tugged, but the door wouldn't budge. “Nancy!” she cried, panic filling her voice. “I can't open it!”

Nancy yanked at the door handle. “It's locked.”

“Oh, no!” Bess wailed. “We're trapped!”

Anxiously, Nancy glanced at the ceiling. “The sprinkler system should be on by now,” she observed.

“Well, it's not,” said Bess woefully.

Looking back over her shoulder, Nancy saw that a six-foot-high wall of fire now stood between them and the dining room. It was spreading rapidly, the flames leaping over to a stack of boxes on a cart. Black smoke began to fill the room.

“Help!” Bess cried, then covered her mouth as the smoke choked her suddenly, causing a coughing fit.

Thinking fast, Nancy ran to one of the large industrial sinks. She turned on the cold water, grabbed the hand-held sprayer, and aimed it at the fire. But the spray wasn't strong enough to subdue the flames.

Throwing down the sprayer, Nancy splashed herself with water. “Come on, Bess. Get wet.” As Bess joined her, still coughing, Nancy found two cloth napkins and soaked them. “Hold this over your mouth and nose,” she gasped, handing Bess a napkin. “And get down on the floor, below most of the smoke.”

As Nancy and Bess crouched, Nancy's eyes swept the kitchen, looking for another way out. She spotted two long, rectangular windows near the ceiling. They would be hard to reach. But maybe she could throw something up to break the glass. That would give her and Bess more air, but it might also fan the flames.

Suddenly Nancy no longer needed to make that decision. The kitchen door swung open with a bang. Shawn was in the lead, followed by Lee, the maître d', and one of the waitresses. Each of them aimed a fire extinguisher at the wall of fire.

When the flames blocking the door died down, Shawn kicked aside the charred, collapsed cabinet. While the waitress and Lee continued spraying the flames, Shawn ran to Nancy and Bess. Bess grabbed his arm, then doubled over in another coughing fit.

“We need to get you two out of here fast,” he told the girls.

Nancy took two steps forward, but then staggered to the side. Her head spun, and a queasiness was gathering in the pit of her stomach.

“Sit,” Shawn directed, helping Nancy to the
floor. “I'll be right back.” He swept the still-coughing Bess from the kitchen. A moment later, he returned for Nancy.

Nancy felt Shawn's strong arm around her shoulder. “The smoke gets you before the flames do,” he explained, guiding her out of the kitchen.

As Shawn led her into the dining room, Nancy noticed that a handful of employees had gathered outside the door. She recognized the head waitress, Loreen, and the bartender, Roy, in the group.

“The fire department is on its way,” Loreen reported to Shawn. Her green eyes flashed on Nancy, who was still leaning heavily on Shawn's shoulder.

“I see it took you all of a half hour to get into trouble,” Loreen jeered as Nancy collapsed into a chair beside Bess.

“Knock it off, Loreen,” Shawn snapped. “Why don't you go out to the parking lot and wait for the fire trucks? We'll need to direct them to the kitchen.”

Loreen glared at him before she headed off.

“I'd better see how they're doing in there,” Shawn said as he turned back toward the kitchen. A brunette waitress, who introduced herself as Anne Marie, offered Bess and Nancy water and cool cloths.

“What happened?” came Jack's gruff, French-accented voice. He was walking into the dining room from the front hall. Elliot was right behind him.

“There was a fire in the kitchen,” Nancy told him wearily.

“Oh, my goodness!” Elliot fretted. “I hope I didn't leave a burner on or something.”

“No,” Bess said, wiping black soot from her cheeks. “It was the linen cabinet.”

“Do you or Jack smoke?” Nancy asked Elliot. “The fire could have been started by a stray cigarette.”

Jack looked insulted. “There is no smoking permitted in my kitchen,” he replied.

My kitchen, Nancy noted, wondering about his possessive attitude. “Where did you go?” she asked him. “We thought you were still in the kitchen.”

The dessert chef arched his eyebrows disdainfully. “Not that it is any of your affair, but I went to see what was taking Elliot so long.”

“There were no cherries at the bar, so I had to go downstairs to the storeroom,” Elliot explained. “I couldn't find them, so Jack had to come down and help me look.” Sheepishly, he held up a jar of bright red cherries. “I found them.”

Nancy smiled, then shifted her attention back to the fire. “Is anything else stored in that closet, any kinds of chemical solvent that might have ignited like that?”

“I don't believe so,” Elliot replied.

“Absolutely not,” Jack said.

Slowly, Nancy pulled herself up from the chair. Sirens sounded in the distance. The fire department should be able to figure out what happened, Nancy
told herself as she walked back toward the kitchen. She stood in the doorway and observed the damage. The kitchen floor was awash with a sudsy foam, the walls were charred, and smoke hung in the air like an evil dark cloud. Alone in the middle of the kitchen stood Shawn, holding a linen napkin over his nose and mouth. He walked over to the stove and flicked on the exhaust fans to clear the smoke, then surveyed the area with an expression of complete despair.

He sensed Nancy's eyes on him and looked up. “I should never have called the fire department,” he said as the sirens grew louder. “Now I'm going to get zonked with fines on top of everything else.”

“Because your kitchen extinguishers were empty?” Nancy asked.

“And my sprinkler system failed,” he added.

“Why did those things go wrong?” Nancy asked.

Shawn climbed up onto a counter and reached toward a valve in the ceiling. “I can tell you why the sprinkler didn't work,” he offered as he turned the valve. “It's been shut off.” Climbing back down, he picked up the empty extinguisher that Nancy had thrown to the floor. “This was a brand-new extinguisher,” he said. “It's never been used. Someone must have deliberately emptied it.”

“What you're saying is, this was arson,” Nancy surmised.

“It sure looks that way,” Shawn agreed grimly. “I never lock that back door, except at night. Food is delivered through that door all day long, and the
delivery people walk right in. Somebody got hold of my keys and locked that door from the outside.”

The scream of fire engines told Nancy that the firefighters had arrived. Moments later they hurried into the kitchen.

“Nancy,” Shawn said. “Ask Lee to call all our guests with reservations. We won't be able to serve dinner tonight. And please tell Loreen to send everyone home.”

Shawn stayed in the kitchen with the firefighters while, outside in the dining room, Nancy found Bess talking to Elliot.

“Where is everybody?” Nancy asked.

“Loreen has them doing inventory downstairs,” Bess said. “The sight of her staff standing around doing nothing drives her nuts.”

“Loreen is actually quite nice,” Elliot disagreed. “It's only lately that she's been, well, irritable.”

“Do you know why?” Nancy asked him.

Elliot shook his head. “No, not really.”

Remembering that she wanted to keep her identity as a detective secret, Nancy quickly controlled her impulse to barrage Elliot with questions.

Suddenly Elliot's face lit up. “I know where I've seen you before. I've been trying to figure it out all day. I saw your picture in the paper. You're Nancy Drew, the detective.” He hunched his shoulders and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Are you investigating all the weird stuff that's been happening here?”

Nancy shook her head. “Just trying to earn some extra money, that's all.”

“Really?” Elliot asked doubtfully.

“Sure,” Nancy said lightly. “Please don't tell anyone about me, okay? I want to fit in here, and I'm willing to work hard and do my share.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Elliot assured her.

Nancy gave Bess the message from Shawn about calling the reservations, and Bess went off to find the maître d'. “Now I have to tell Loreen to send everyone home,” Nancy added with a sigh.

“I'll tell her,” Elliot offered, getting up. “I have to talk to her about something else, anyway. I'll see you later.”

As soon as he had gone, Bess reappeared. “I think you should drop this case, and I'm ready to quit the coatroom,” she said to Nancy. “Whoever is doing all this stuff means business. We could have been killed in there.”

Nancy nodded gravely. “I know. At first I thought it was a disgruntled employee playing pranks. But it's become a lot more serious than that.”

“Then you'll give up the case?” Bess asked.

Nancy shook her head. “You know me. I can't give up just when things are beginning to heat up. I'd lie awake nights thinking about it, wondering who was responsible. Besides, I'd like to help Shawn, if I can.”

“Which means I can't quit, either,” Bess said with a sigh.

“It's okay with me if you want to,” Nancy told her.

“Forget it,” Bess scoffed. “I got you into this. I'm not leaving you all alone. Let me go help Lee cancel those reservations, and then we'll get out of here. I just want to go home and soak all of this soot out of my pores.”

Nancy was about to follow Bess when she saw Shawn coming out of the kitchen. “I'll catch up with you in a minute,” she told Bess.

“That was just what I needed,” Shawn said, rubbing his eyes wearily. “Over a thousand dollars in fines.”

“Ouch,” Nancy sympathized. “Didn't you tell them you suspect arson?”

Shawn shook his head. “I decided not to. I don't need that kind of story getting around. If customers hear there's an arsonist with a gripe against this place, they'll never come here.”