It’s a jungle out there

“What would Vic be doing in Akinyi’s bungalow?” Bess whispered. “It’s almost midnight!” “Come on, let’s follow him.” Without waiting for an answer, I hurried up the steps and along the walk-way. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw my friends following.

We tracked Vic as he hurried along the maze of walkways over the water. The three of us have tracked a few bad guys in our time, so we’re pretty good at it. Even so, it almost seemed like Vic might be on to us. A couple of times he paused and peered around into the darkness, forcing us to hide behind anything handy. But then he always kept going, eventually reaching the bungalow he shared with Sydney. After one last glance around, he opened the door and slipped inside.

My friends and I stayed put for a few minutes, but nothing else happened. The lights were all off in the bungalow, and the only things we could hear were fish splashing in the lagoon beneath us and the distant sounds of the crew party farther down the beach.

Finally we gave up and returned to our own bungalow. “Well?” George said, flopping onto the wicker couch in the main room. “What do you think that was all about?”

Bess had tears in her eyes as she shook her head. “All I can say is, if Vic is cheating on Syd — especially with her best friend — MrSilhouette will have to get in line. Because I’ll kill Vic myself.”

“Right with you, cousin,” George agreed.

“Hang on,” I said. “Let’s not freak out until we know for sure what’s happening here. For all we know, he might have forgotten something at Akinyi’s when he and Syd were hiding out there earlier, and was just going back to get it.”

“At midnight?” George sounded skeptical.

I couldn’t blame her. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Anyway, it’s too late to figure it out tonight. Let’s get some sleep and deal with it in the morning.”

* * *

“So, Vic.” I fell into step beside Sydney’s new husband as he left the breakfast buffet line the next morning. “I guess you and Syd were out and about late last night, huh?” I pasted on what I hoped was an innocent smile. “See, I couldn’t sleep and so I went for a walk along the walkways for a while around midnight. I would have sworn I heard the door to your bungalow close when I was passing by. Did you two go for a nice romantic moonlit walk along the beach or something?”

“Nope, wasn’t us,” Vic replied cheerfully. “Sounds like a cool idea, though — we’ll have to try it tonight. But last night Syd and I both went to bed early and slept like logs. Must’ve had the wrong cabin, Nancy.”

“Oh. You’re probably right.” I maintained my smile until he turned away to help himself to a glass of juice. Then I allowed it to fade. I’d been trying to give Vic the benefit of the doubt. But he wasn’t making it easy. We’d seen him with our own eyes last night. Why was he lying about it?

“Ugh. I think another one just got me.” George slapped at her arm. “What am I, some kind of mosquito magnet or something? They don’t seem to be biting you. ” She glared at Bess.

“I guess you must taste better,” Bess said, sounding distracted. She lifted her foot out of a patch of mud and stared woefully at her sneaker. “Listen, Nancy. What are we hoping to find out here? Because if I’m going to ruin my shoes, I want to know it’s for some greater purpose.”

“I already told you, remember?” I gingerly pushed aside a low-growing palm with sharp-looking fronds. “We’re trying to find the spot where whoever it was shot at our boat yesterday. Maybe that will give us some hints about who it was.”

We’d been fighting our way through the jungle north of the resort for about half an hour, though it felt more like three or four days. As soon as we’d left the manicured area around the resort, the landscape had changed drastically. It was buggy and muddy and itchy and just generally unpleasant. My friends and I were already exhausted, not to mention sweaty and dirty from head to toe and, in George’s case, covered with mosquito bites.

“What kind of hints are we looking for, exactly?” George asked.

“You know — old-fashioned clues,” I said. “Like footprints or whatever.”

Bess bit her lip as she glanced down again at her feet. “Well, just know that I’ve probably already sacrificed a really cute pair of sneakers to the cause. I’m not sure I can save them.” She sighed. “At least they weren’t superexpensive like those sandals Akinyi wrecked yesterday.”

I nodded, recalling the muddy sandals we’d seen in the model’s bungalow. “Speaking of footprints, those shoes of hers should make it easy to tell if any prints we find are hers. I doubt many people come out here in high-heeled sandals.” I winced as my ankle turned on a root, though I caught myself on the trunk of a nearby tree in time to prevent injury. Unfortunately, that tree trunk happened to be covered in ants, which began swarming and biting my hand with great enthusiasm.

“Do you really think Akinyi could’ve been the one who shot out our pontoons yesterday?” George asked, smacking herself on the shoulder and watching as I rubbed the ants off in a handy mud puddle.

“I hope not,” I admitted. “But it does seem pretty suspicious. Why would she go wandering into the jungle like that? The way she reacted to that fly in the dining room last night, I’m thinking she’s not exactly a nature lover.”

Bess hopped over a fallen tree branch. “Yeah. Plus she did make us wait before she let us in yesterday even though she knew Syd was frantic,” she recalled. “Why would she do that? It’s not like she even changed out of her robe while we were waiting. Maybe she was hiding the evidence of what she’d been up to, and just forgot about those shoes until Vic tripped over them.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” I said. “There were all those thumping noises from inside, like she was opening and closing drawers or closet doors.” I shook my head. “But listen, we need to keep an open mind here. Akinyi may look kind of suspicious right now, but she’s not our only suspect.”

“Right,” George said. “There’s still Butch, for instance.”

I nodded. “He could have done the shooting, too, at least as far as we know. He wasn’t on the beach when we swam in, remember?”

“Are you sure?” George asked.

“Yeah, I remember that too,” Bess said. “There were a couple of cameramen there, but Butch wasn’t one of them — I remember thinking I was glad about that, since he probably would have had some obnoxious comment to make.”

“Right. He wasn’t there, and neither was Madge,” I said. “Or Donald or Lainie, for that matter.”

“Lainie?” George glanced over at me. “Don’t tell me she’s on the list.”

I shrugged, stepping carefully over a swampy-looking spot on the narrow animal track we were following at the moment. “Not really,” I said. “But it does seem a teensy bit suspicious that she’s just suddenly there flirting with Bo all the time, doesn’t it? Plus she disappeared at a critical moment right before the waterfall incident yesterday.”

Bess crinkled her nose. “Are you saying you think she could’ve climbed up, loosened that stone, and then come back in time to watch Bo fall?” she asked skeptically. “But how would she know one of those guys would even climb up there?”

“Maybe she put the idea in Butch’s head,” I said. “Or maybe it was just a coincidence that she left at that particular time. Look, I’m not saying she’s a strong suspect. I’m just saying we shouldn’t rule anybody out, okay?”

“I hear you,” George said with a sigh. “And I agree. I don’t think any of us wants to believe Vic could be involved. Or even Akinyi.”

Bess nodded. “True.”

We were silent for a few minutes, focused on fighting both our own thoughts and the choking, merciless jungle. Finally, though, the trees and undergrowth began to thin up ahead.

“I think we’re almost to the water,” Bess panted, pushing forward through some palm fronds.

I felt my foot squish down in an extra-deep mud puddle, but I didn’t care. “Come on, let’s see where we are.”

A moment later we stepped out into a beautiful little cove. A pristine white sand beach curved in around the shallows, with tiny waves patting the sand with each pulse of the tide. Due to the uneven coastline, the spot lay out of sight of the resort, making it feel as isolated as a deserted island.

“Wow, this is gorgeous!” Bess breathed, turning on her heel to scan the scene. “It looks like something out of a movie.”

“Check this out, you guys,” George said from somewhere behind us.

Turning, I saw that she was standing beside a stack of large wooden crates. They were sitting at the edge of the jungle, partly obscured by a low-growing palm, which was why I hadn’t noticed them at first.

“What’s that?” I asked, heading over.

“Don’t know.” George knocked on the side of one of the crates. “Should we see if we can open it?”

I’d just noticed the Oro Beach Resort logo stamped on the side. “Better not,” I said. “We must still be on resort property. I doubt these boxes have anything to do with our case.”

Bess was shading her eyes, peering off into the jungle near the crates. “Look, guys,” she called. “I think we took the scenic route getting here. That looks like a real trail, doesn’t it?”

She was right. Leading off the far side of the cove was a well-worn dirt track, easily wide enough for the truck or ATV that must have carried the crates out there from the main part of the resort.

“Maybe they run diving expeditions out of here or something,” I said. “The gear could be in those crates.”

“Why would they bring people way out here?” George sounded skeptical.

“Who knows?” Bess shrugged. “But unless you think the Oro Beach Resort is somehow involved in sabotaging Syd’s life, I don’t think we should let ourselves get too distracted by worrying about stuff like that.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed. “The real question is, could someone have shot out our pontoons from here?”

Bess squinted out across the sparkling waters of the lagoon. “I think so,” she said, pointing straight out across the water. “I’m pretty sure our boat was right about there when we got hit.”

“I think you’re right,” I agreed. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we’re going to find any useful footprints here. The tide would’ve washed them away since yesterday.”

“There are some back here,” George was still back near the crates, though she’d taken a few steps away to peer at the muddy ground just beyond the edge of the sand. “A bunch, actually.”

“Anything that looks like a Louboutin sandal?” Bess asked, hurrying over.

George rolled her eyes. “If you mean something with a heel, then no. I don’t see anything like that.”

“The shooter wouldn’t have been hanging around back there by those crates,” I said. “He or she would have been out closer to the water. Although now that I think about it, I’m not sure he or she would’ve been in a spot like this at all. It would make much more sense to hide in the jungle to stay out of view from the water.”

Bess let out a pained sigh. “So you want us to go searching for footprints in the jungle?”

I sighed too. “No. We could search all day and not find anything in there. We might as well just head back.” I shot a look at the dirt trail, relieved that at least the walk home would be a little easier than the trek out here.

“I can’t believe it,” George joked as she smacked at another mosquito on her leg. “Nancy Drew isn’t cowed by the most hardened and nasty of criminals. But the tropical jungle might just have her beat!”

I grinned weakly, not about to deny it. “Come on,” I said. “I’m ready for a nice, hot shower. Let’s just keep our fingers crossed that this thing really does lead back to the resort.”

As it turned out, it did. The dirt road was rutted and rough in spots, but it still made for a much, much easier time than fighting our way through the jungle. The trip that had taken us more than forty-five minutes on the way out was more like fifteen or twenty on the return trip.

“Here we are,” Bess said as we caught our first glimpse of civilization up ahead. “Home again.”

We hurried forward. When we emerged from the tree line, George looked around in surprise. “Hey,” she said. “Are we in the right place?”

For a second I felt disoriented too. We had stepped out into a sort of grassy clearing dotted with about a dozen rustic wooden cabins. Then I caught a glimpse of the thatched roof of the main building over the top of a hedge.

“This must be another section we haven’t seen yet — maybe less expensive rooms than the ones over the water, or staff housing or something.” At that moment, I heard the slam of a door at the far edge of the cabin area. Glancing that way, I was just in time to catch the back of a familiar strawberry blond head hurrying off toward the beach.

“Hey, that looked like Lainie,” Bess said at the same moment. “I’d recognize her amazing head of hair anywhere. And I love that cool French braid she has it in right now! I wonder if she’d show me how to do that.”

“Forget your hair,” George said, stepping forward. “Now that we know where Lainie’s staying, maybe we should check it out.” She shot me a look. “Like you said, everyone’s a suspect, right?”

I had said that. But even as I followed my friends toward the cabin Lainie had just left, I had my doubts. Maybe it was time to face the facts. Other than Butch, who still deserved a spot high on the suspect list, there were exactly two other people who had earned a place there through their recent behavior. Unfortunately, one of them was Sydney’s best friend, and the other was her husband. How was I ever going to face Sydney if it turned out Vic had been behind the trouble all along? More importantly, how was Sydney herself ever going to face her future?

I was so deep in thought that I fell behind as my friends reached Lainie’s cabin and peered in through a window. But Bess’s loud gasp snapped me out of it.

“What?” I hurried forward to join them. At first I didn’t see anything unusual. The view through the window showed a fairly ordinary-looking bedroom, smaller and less luxurious than ours but still quite nice. The bed was neatly made and the floor swept, though it was obvious that someone was staying there thanks to the sweater dropped carelessly on a chair and a pair of flip-flops over near the door. There were also a few personal items on the bedside table — a hairbrush, a paperback book, a framed photo…

“Hey,” I said as I saw the photo, which showed a smiling young woman with dark curly hair hugging a cute dog. “Do we have the wrong room? That’s not Lainie in the picture.”

“Yes it is,” Bess said. “Look at the face. It’s her — but with totally different hair.”

“So what?” George shrugged. “People change their hair all the time. Don’t you remember that curling iron phase you went through back in middle school?”

“Or it could be a picture of a relative,” I put in. “Twin sister, maybe?”

Bess was shaking her head. “No, it’s her,” she insisted. “Can’t you see that mole?”

My eyesight is pretty good, but Bess has to be part eagle or something. When I squinted, I saw that she was right. The girl in the picture had the same distinctive mole on her chin as Lainie.

“Never mind the picture,” Bess said, nudging me with her shoulder. “Do you guys see what else is in there? Check out the bathroom.”

For the first time I noticed that the bathroom door was slightly ajar. Just inside on the counter lay a mop of strawberry blond — a wig!

“Oh, my gosh!” George covered her mouth with one hand. “Are you guys thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Only if you’re thinking MrSilhouette could be female,” I said grimly. “I suppose we should have thought of that. After all, crazy stalkers come in both genders. Come to think of it, maybe that’s even why she signed the notes and stuff the way she did. It was capital M, small r, capital S all run together, remember?”

Bess nodded. “I get it. MrS. It kind of looks like Mrs. rather than Mr….”

“Hey,” someone said from just behind us. “What are you doing at my cabin?”

Дата добавления: 2017-01-14