The Secret at Solaire (7 page)

Maybe Bess was right, Nancy thought as she got ready to climb back out of the kitchen window. Maybe my theory was crazy. Then she realized there was one room she still hadn't checked: the bathroom.

Shining her flashlight ahead of her, Nancy entered the narrow bathroom. Lying in a heap on the tile floor was a muddy plaid shirt. Nancy's hand shook with excitement as she
took the photograph from her pocket and held it against the sleeve of the shirt. It was a perfect match.

Now what? she wondered. It'd be bad enough if Hank noticed he was missing a planter. She couldn't risk taking the shirt for evidence.

Nancy made one more check through the small house, searching for something else that might lead her to Kim. This time, a photograph on top of the dresser in the bedroom caught her eye. The photograph showed a lovely young woman standing beside a white horse, holding a trophy. Could this be Hank's daughter? Nancy wondered.

She turned over the picture. The cardboard backing was slightly pulled down. Beneath it, Nancy could see what looked like newsprint. Curious, she slipped the photograph from its frame. A yellowed newspaper clipping fell out and fluttered to the floor.

Nancy carefully unfolded the brittle piece of paper. It was a newspaper article, and its headline read: Local Woman, 20, Blinded by Tainted Cosmetics. Beneath the headline was the same picture of the girl with the horse.

Nancy's heart skipped a beat as she went on to read about Heather Sinclair, a promising equestrian from Arizona. She'd been studying in Paris and was blinded by a French-manufactured mascara. The cosmetics
company, Jeunesse, paid Ms. Sinclair's hospital bills but vanished before paying the damages they'd agreed to. The girl's father, Henry Sinclair, was being forced to sell his ranch to pay for legal fees to try and bring the Jeunesse company to justice.

Henry Sinclair, Nancy mused. Could he possibly be the same man as Hank Meader? There was no way of telling. How long ago did this happen? Nancy checked for a date, but the article had been clipped from the middle of a page.

A sudden sound against the bedroom window made her jump. It was George's signal—Hank was coming! Moving swiftly, Nancy slipped the article back into the frame and set the picture back on top of the dresser. Then she made her way back to the kitchen.

“Please stall him, Bess,” Nancy murmured as she climbed onto the window ledge and lowered herself to the ground.

George was waiting for her, and she whispered to Nancy to hurry. The girls glanced toward the barn, but they didn't see Hank coming.

Suddenly Nancy heard footsteps from around the corner of the house. She grabbed George's arm, and the two of them sprinted off in the other direction, not daring to look back.

• • •

When the girls had finally let themselves into the room, Nancy's heart was still pounding.

“That was a close one,” Nancy said, collapsing into a chair.

“Are you okay?” George asked at once. Even George was winded.

“Fine,” Nancy told her. “I'll explain everything I found in a minute, but first I need to make a call.”

Nancy hurried to the bedside phone and dialed her father's number. “Hi, Dad,” she said when Carson Drew answered the phone. “Yes, we're all fine. I was wondering if you could do a little research for me. I need to know anything you can find out about a French cosmetics company called Jeunesse and an American girl from Tucson named Heather Sinclair, who was blinded by one of their products. Also anything you can find on Jacqueline and Laurent Rozier.”

“What was that all about?” Bess asked after Nancy had chatted with her dad for a few minutes and hung up the phone.

Nancy told her friends what she'd found in Hank Meader's cottage. “I'm not sure why he was at the falls that day,” she said. “And I don't know for certain that he has Kim—but it seems very possible.”

George pulled a pillow from her bed and
stretched out on the rug. “So what's his connection to the girl in the photograph?” she asked.

“I'm not sure,” Nancy replied, “but I intend to find out.”

“Well, I don't know why you're checking out the Roziers,” Bess said, sounding upset. “I'm sure they didn't have anything to do with it.”

Nancy sighed, not wanting to get into an argument with Bess. Then her eyes widened in panic. “I can't believe it,” she said. “It's gone!”

“What is?” George asked, frowning.

“My silver bracelet. The one Ned gave me. It says, ‘To Nancy, with love' on the inside.”

“Are you sure you didn't just leave it somewhere?” Bess asked.

“Positive,” Nancy said, her heart sinking. “I know I had it on before I went into Hank's house. And now it's gone.”

The three girls jumped as someone pounded on their door. Putting a finger to her lips, Nancy went to open it. What she saw made her heart start racing all over again.

Framed in the dark doorway was Hank Meader, a menacing scowl on his face.

Nancy stared into Hank Meader's angry face and felt herself start to tremble. He knows I broke into his house, she thought. How am I ever going to talk my way out of this one?

“The Roziers want to see the three of you in the office,” Hank said. “Pronto!”

“Wh-what?” Nancy stammered. Was he telling the truth, or was this some kind of ruse to get them out of the casita?

“I said, they want to see you in the office,” Hank repeated. “Look,” he went on impatiently, “I've got a mare about to foal in the stables. I don't have all night to run errands. Do you think you three could move it?”

“He does have a mare about to foal,” Bess said quickly. “Her name's Bonita and—”

“All right,” Nancy said, “we'll come with
you.” Maybe Hank
was
telling the truth, but why had the Roziers summoned them?

Silently, Hank led the way toward the main complex. By night the fountain was lit, throwing a soft cascade of silver water under the moonlight.

The three girls entered the office and found both Jacqueline and Laurent waiting for them.
“Merci
, Hank,” Jacqueline said. “You may go now.”

Hank tipped his hat and left, leaving Nancy more curious than ever. Did the Roziers know the girls had been spying? Were she and Bess and George about to be thrown out of Solaire?

“I summoned you because we have received word from Kim Foster,” Jacqueline began. “I have already told the staff the news, and I am speaking to the other guests in the morning, but I know how particularly concerned you three have been.”

“Did Search and Rescue find her?” George asked eagerly.

“No, but there was no need,” Jacqueline explained. “We received this from her today.” She held out a typed letter to Nancy, who read the letter aloud to her friends.

“Dear Jacqueline and Laurent,

I just wanted to let you know that I am fine. I was swept downstream in the flood,
but I managed to make it to safety. Still, nearly drowning is an upsetting experience—especially for a ‘wilderness expert.' I need some time to think things through, so I will not be returning to Solaire. I'm going to spend the next few weeks in Phoenix, visiting museums and taking in the sights.

I'd appreciate it if you could hold my mail and things until I return.

All the best,

Kim Foster”

Nancy reread the letter silently. Something about it didn't sound right. “Are you sure that's Kim's signature?” she asked the Roziers.

“Of course,” Laurent said. “In fact, I will prove it to you.” He went over to a wooden filing cabinet, pulled out a typed form, and handed it to Nancy. It was Kim's original job application. The signature was identical to the one on the letter.

“So she's really all right,” Bess said, smiling.

“She's fine,” Jacqueline said, putting the application away. “We will miss her, of course, and it was quite irresponsible of her to walk out on us, but we are very relieved that she is all right. Now, you girls must return to your casita and get a good night's rest. Alain is waiting outside to walk you back to your room.”

Why do I feel as if I've just been conned?
Nancy wondered. “Jacqueline,” she said impulsively, “does the name Jeunesse mean anything to you?”

“Of course. It's a French word that means youth,” Jacqueline replied.

“I meant Jeunesse cosmetics,” Nancy said. “Have you ever heard of them, maybe while you were living in Paris?”

Jacqueline gave a soft laugh. “When I lived in Paris, I was a model. I used every cosmetic on the market. I never distinguished one brand from the other. All I remember is that the makeup artists took entirely too long to get me ready for the cameras.”

“Laurent,” Nancy asked, “have
you
ever heard of Jeunesse cosmetics?”

“I'm afraid not,” he replied, smoothly taking Nancy by the arm and escorting her to the door. “Good night, mademoiselles.”

Nancy's level of frustration rose another notch when she found Alain and his guard dog waiting outside the door.

“Bon soir
, Alain,” Bess greeted him.

“Bon soir,”
he replied, smiling.

“Since when did Bess learn to speak French?” George whispered to Nancy.

Nancy shrugged and turned her attention to Alain. “We appreciate the escort,” she said, “but we can find our way back to the casita on our own.”

“I'm sure you can,” Alain replied. “However,
Solaire believes in protecting its guests at all times.”

“And making them feel like prisoners,” George muttered as the four of them began walking toward the casita. “Look.” She pointed to several shadowy figures in the distance. “There are three other staff members patrolling the grounds with dogs. Are you guys expecting an armed invasion?”

“These are normal security measures,” Alain said. “Please don't be alarmed. I assure you, they are for your own good.”

Alain, Nancy thought, was about as informative and truthful as Laurent. Still, since he insisted on walking them back to the casita, she might as well try to get some information. “So, how is Whitney?” she asked.

“Whitney pulled a shoulder ligament,” Alain replied. “She may be a bit uncomfortable for a while, but Dr. Benay says her arm should heal perfectly. I believe Whitney's decided to return home tomorrow.” He shrugged as they reached the casita. “It was a most unfortunate accident.”

“Except that it wasn't an accident,” Nancy said.

Alain's eyes met hers with something that might have been respect, but his words were a warning. “I would suggest, Ms. Drew,” he said softly, “that you keep your opinions to yourself.”

They entered the room, and George shut the door on Alain with a thump.

“George,” Bess said, “you don't have to be so rude.”

“Me?”
George asked. “Alain practically threatens Nancy and you're calling me rude?”

“It wasn't a threat,” Bess insisted.

“Let's not argue about Alain right now,” Nancy said. “There's a phone call I have to make before I forget the number.”

She took the phone from the bedside table and dialed the number she'd memorized from Kim's employment application. On the other end of the line, an answering machine came on, telling Nancy she'd reached the Foster residence. Nancy sighed and left her number, hoping Kim's family would call back.

The phone rang a few hours later, just as the girls were dropping off to sleep. “Mrs. Foster?” Nancy asked eagerly.

“No,” said a dry voice at the other end of the line. “It's your father. Will that do?”

“Dad!” Nancy exclaimed. “I can't believe you're getting back to me so soon.”

“Well, it sounded pretty urgent,” Carson Drew said. “So I called a few friends, here and in Paris, and got some information. First, I checked out the Roziers. The two of them ran a very exclusive spa on the island of St. Martin, also called Spa Solaire. That's apparently
where Laurent developed his line of cosmetics.”

“That's pretty much what I read in the Solaire brochures,” Nancy said with a sigh. “Did you find any information on what they were doing before St. Martin?”

Her father gave a soft laugh. “Now, that's rather interesting. About five years before the Roziers showed up in St. Martin, Jacqueline officially retired as one of Paris's leading fashion models. She wasn't married to Laurent then. She was simply known as Jacqueline. And then, it seems, she dropped off the face of the planet. There's no more information about her until she showed up in St. Martin with Laurent three years ago, purchased an old resort, and opened the first Solaire.”

“What about Laurent?” Nancy asked.

“Again, nothing,” Carson Drew replied. “All I found was a marriage certificate.”

“And Heather Sinclair?”

“Five years ago, she and several others sued Jeunesse. Heather had developed a severe eye infection after using their mascara, and she eventually went blind. Another American, a young model who was working in Paris, had such a severe allergic reaction to the Jeunesse cold cream that it left her skin permanently scarred. Her career was ruined. Jeunesse paid the immediate medical costs and agreed to a
hefty settlement. But the settlement was never paid.”

“Why not?” Nancy asked, her curiosity growing.

“Well, one day there was a Jeunesse and the next day, the company was gone. The office was empty, the bank accounts were closed, and the staff was gone.”

“Who was the owner?” Nancy asked.

“A chemist named Pierre Dennon, who also pulled a disappearing act,” Carson Drew replied. “His car went off a cliff and exploded. No one ever found the body.”

“Dad,” Nancy said slowly, “do you think Pierre Dennon could be Laurent Rozier?”