The Caribbean Cruise Caper (9 page)

Soon the hour was up. While Kenneth took one photograph after another, the contestants handed David their entries. He promised to score them right away and asked them not to discuss their solutions until he had finished.

“Very well,” Sylvie said as David went off to his room. “But I have another mystery. Has anyone seen my scarf? I know I wore it last night, and now I do not know where it is. It is blue with green parrots. My favorite uncle brought it back from Paris for me, and I would hate to lose it.”

No one had seen it since the night before.

“Hey, Joe,” Evan said. “I bet we can find it. Will you look with me?”

“Sure, why not,” Joe replied. “Where should we start?”

“How about under the furniture?” Evan suggested. “Whenever I lose something, that's where it always is.”

Joe played along. While the others grinned at
them, he and Evan got down on hands and knees. They crawled around the salon, peering under the easy chairs and couches. Joe wondered if he'd get a sneezing fit from the dust, but the carpet was spotless. It had obviously been vacuumed very recently.

Evan looked under a pale green loveseat. Suddenly he crowed, “I see it. There it is!”

He lay down on his stomach, stretched his arm under the loveseat, and pulled out a blue scarf.

“Evan, you found my scarf for me,” Sylvie cried. “Oh, thank you!”

“Wait, there's something else,” Evan said. He reached again. This time he produced a crumpled brown paper bag. He wrinkled his nose in comic disappointment and tossed the bag away. As he did, a slip of paper fell out.

Joe retrieved it and gave it a casual glance. Then he looked more closely. It was a cash register receipt from a pharmacy in Fort William for a bottle of syrup of ipecac.

Frank was talking to Cesar about ancient ruins in New Mexico and Colorado when he heard Evan give a yell. He glanced across the room. Evan and Joe were sitting back on their heels, staring down at a small slip of paper. Frank recognized the concentration in his brother's posture. Joe had just found something important.

There was no point in attracting any extra attention. Without seeming to hurry, Frank stood up and crossed the room. He got down on one knee next to Joe. “What have you got?” he asked softly.

Wordlessly Joe handed him the paper. A quick scan was enough to tell him what it was.

He sensed someone looking over his shoulder. He tried to block the person's view of the register receipt. Too late.

“So!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “It was Sylvie who bought that disgusting stuff and poisoned the fruit. I should have guessed!”

“What are you saying?” Sylvie demanded.

Elizabeth pointed to the receipt. “There's the proof,” she said. “You dropped it when you lost your scarf. So that's why you didn't eat dessert last night!”

Frank stood up. “Somebody on the boat bought ipecac in Fort William yesterday afternoon,” he said. “We suspected that already. Now we know. Here's the proof of purchase. But we still don't know
who
bought it.”

“The receipt was found with Sylvie's scarf,” Elizabeth repeated stubbornly. “There's your proof.”

“A childishly obvious frame,” Boris said. “I wonder, Elizabeth, why you're trying so hard to convince us that Sylvie is guilty? Did you construct this frame yourself?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Elizabeth said, tossing her head. “And why are you so sure it's a frame? Even clever criminals make mistakes.”

Sylvie reddened at Elizabeth's hint that she was not only a criminal but an unclever one.

“Sylvie could not have bought the stuff,” Boris insisted. “She went nowhere near the drugstore. I can testify to that. We were together the whole time we were in town.”

“Er . . .” Sylvie began. “I'm sorry, Boris, but that's not true. I did go to the drugstore. I needed
to buy hair conditioner. Remember? You wanted to look at postcards, so I left you at the souvenir store.”

Now it was Boris who turned red.

Frank stepped in. “Sylvie, do you still have the receipt for the conditioner?”

She opened her eyes wide, raised her eyebrows and made a little popping sound with her lips. “I do not know,” she said. “I will look.”

She ran out of the room.

Frank took Joe aside. “We've got to find some way of calming everybody down,” he said. “Everybody's at one another's throats, which is probably just what the trickster wants. The sooner we find out who's responsible, the better. Any ideas?”

“Here's one,” Joe replied. “I noticed the carpet is really clean, even under the furniture. It must have been vacuumed very recently.”

“I get it,” Frank said. “The scarf and the paper bag must have been put there
after
the last vacuuming. Why don't you go find one of the crew and ask when that was? I'll hold down the fort here.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Joe responded. He headed toward the door to the galley.

Sylvie rushed in with a slip of paper. “I found it!” she declared. “You see—herbal conditioner. It is much more expensive here than in Quebec.”

Frank studied the two receipts. The time on the one for conditioner was half an hour earlier than on the one for syrup of ipecac. Had Sylvie gone into the pharmacy twice? It was possible, but was it
likely? If she wanted to hide what she was doing, would she do something so likely to draw attention to her? It did not make much sense.

“You see?” Boris said to Elizabeth. “I told you this is a frame. Now you see.”

“I see something,” Cesar said. “I see that when you gave Sylvie an alibi that turned out to be false, you gave yourself a false alibi, too. Why? Did you feel you needed one?”

“Yeah, dude, what say you now?” Jason demanded.

It looked to Frank as if Boris was about to express himself with his fists. Frank was getting ready to step in when Joe reappeared.

“Hey, everybody,” Joe said. “Listen up. I just checked with one of the crew. This room was dusted and vacuumed at six-thirty this morning. And there wasn't anything under any of the furniture at that time. No scarf, no paper bag . . . and no receipt for ipecac.”

“Ha!” Boris said. He thrust his chin in Cesar's direction. “What did I say? An obvious frame!”

Sylvie put an arm through his. “You defended me!” she said, looking at him with big eyes.

Jason looked away. Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

Lisa went over to Elizabeth. “I'd like to hear more of your ideas about what's been going on,” she said, readying her tape recorder. “Can we talk?”

Elizabeth looked as if she had just discovered a
drowned bug in her cup after drinking half the tea. She turned her back on Lisa and walked away.

David came back. He immediately sensed the change in the atmosphere. He joined Frank and Joe. “What's going on?” he asked.

The Hardys filled him in on the discovery of the pharmacy receipt and the argument that followed. His face grew longer.

“Having the contest on a yacht in the Caribbean was supposed to make it more fun,” he complained. “Instead, all we have are quarrels and backbiting. This won't do
Teenway
any good. It wouldn't surprise me if Bettina carries out her threat to cancel the contest and send us home.”

“What if we find out who's responsible for the trouble?” Joe asked.

“Obviously that would help,” David told him. “But we don't have much time. That stunt with the ipecac was not funny. Next time, we may be faced with something really dangerous. Now I'd better end the suspense about this morning's problem.”

He walked to the center of the salon. The finalists gathered around.

“The museum director stole the statue, disguised as a janitor,” Jason called out in a mocking tone.

Cesar said, “You missed the most important point, Jason. The museum director
was
the statue.”

David raised a hand. “Okay, guys, settle down. You all did good jobs with this morning's puzzle. Congratulations. Still, one entry was clearly superior. That was Cesar's.”

Cesar grinned, pumped his fist in the air, and said, “Yes-s-s-s!”

The others looked disappointed, except for Elizabeth, who as usual seemed uninvolved.

“Cesar, will you summarize your conclusions about the robbery?” David asked.

“Yikes,” Cesar said. “Well . . . two different witnesses said that the statuette was there before the speeches. Mr. Banks said he noticed right after the speeches that the statuette was gone. Colonel Fortune confirmed that. As for Mrs. Bond and Mr. Diamond, they alibied each other. They said that they were together during the speeches, when the lights were down, and the whole time afterward, until the alarm was raised.”

“The robbery obviously happened during the speeches,” Boris said.

“And the alibis of Bond and Diamond for that time are not so hot,” Jason added. “The lights were low. One of them could have slipped away. I think Mrs. Bond did it.
Cherchez la femme.”

Jason's attempt to pronounce French made Sylvie giggle. Then she said, “The lights were low, but they were not out. If I was standing with a man at a party, I would notice if he left. And he would notice if I left.”

“That's for sure,” Elizabeth drawled.

David stepped in quickly. “So, Cesar—who took the sculpture?”

“It must have been Banks,” Cesar said. Over muttered questions and protests, he explained. “In
her statement, Mrs. Bond mentioned that Banks was with them from the time the speeches ended. They were standing on the opposite side of the hall from the statuette. So how did Banks know it was missing . . . unless he was the one who took it?”

Boris slapped his forehead. “I saw that!” he declared. “I saw it, and I did not see what it meant. Smart work, Cesar. Do you play chess?”

“I know how the pieces move,” Cesar said cautiously. “I'm no expert.”

“Let's have a game,” Boris said. “Maybe I beat you and I don't feel so stupid anymore.”

• • •

Just before noon the
Colombe d'Or
anchored near an island with a half-moon-shaped beach of glistening white sand. Arnie and Chuck used the yacht's motorboat to take a charcoal grill and boxes of picnic supplies ashore. Then, while Arnie got the fire going, Chuck returned to ferry the passengers to the beach.

“Watch yourselves,” Chuck warned as he nosed the boat onto the sand. “This is the Atlantic side. It looks pretty calm now, but the surf can kick up without warning.”

“Doesn't anybody live here?” asked Sylvie.

“Oh sure,” Chuck said. “There's a town and harbor just a couple of miles away as the crow flies, on the other side of the island. But this is the nicest beach, and we have it to ourselves.”

Jason was the first one out of the boat. With his bright orange jams, whitewater sandals, and portable
CD player, he reminded Frank of an ad for a spring weekend at a seaside resort. In contrast, Elizabeth was hidden under an ankle-length cover-up, big sunglasses, and a straw sombrero with a wide, wide brim. A band of lime green sunblock streaked her nose and cheekbones.

“Who wants to jump waves with me?” Evan asked.

Frank glanced over toward the grill and serving table. The hamburgers, hot dogs, and skewers of veggies wouldn't be ready for at least twenty minutes. Plenty of time to splash around. “Sure, let's go,” he said.

The beach shelved steeply. A few steps took Frank in up to his thighs and Evan up to his chest. “This is far enough,” Frank said as a wave curling with white foam swept in toward them. He grabbed Evan's arm and hoisted him up as the wave passed.

“Wheel” Evan shouted. “Watch—I'm going to jump the next one all by myself!”

A few seconds later he laughed and sputtered as a whitecap casually slapped him in the face.

“Let's jump together,” Frank suggested.

Nearby Lisa, Jason, Cesar, and Boris were standing in the surf, tossing around a volleyball. Lisa was in barely up to her knees. Jason and Cesar were up to their waists. For Boris, opposite Lisa in the circle, the water almost reached his armpits. He had to leap high to catch the ball or to avoid being dunked by each passing wave.

The surf obviously got in the way of Boris's
throwing, too. Once the volleyball sailed by a few inches from Frank's nose. Evan dived after it and tossed it back to the circle.

A gust of wind caught Boris's next throw and took it out to sea. The ball landed twenty yards offshore. Boris swam out to retrieve it. When he returned, he threw to Cesar. His throw was short. It hit the surface, splashing salt water in Cesar's face.

“Hey, cut it out!” Cesar yelled. He grabbed the volleyball and hurled it full force at Boris.

Hampered by the deep water, Boris couldn't bring his hands up fast enough to catch it. The ball struck the side of his head, just over the temple. He groaned and slipped beneath the surface.

Joe was standing on the beach talking to Kenneth about cameras and lenses. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the volleyball hit Boris in the head. Even before Boris's face went under, Joe was sprinting down the sand toward the water. A few steps into the surf he launched himself into a racing dive over an incoming breaker. His powerful crawl strokes carried him quickly close to the spot where Boris had been standing. He found his footing and scanned the area.

Boris was floating facedown a few yards away. Joe splashed over to him, lifted him by the shoulders, and turned him over so his nose and mouth were out of the water. Boris revived just enough to reach up and get a stranglehold on Joe's neck. Joe had not
realized how strong Boris was until he felt himself being choked and pulled down into the water.

Urgently Joe pushed his clasped hands up between Boris's arms, then used them as a fulcrum to pry himself loose. The instant his neck was free, he moved behind Boris's head, out of reach of those grappling arms. He cupped one hand under Boris's chin and started towing him toward the beach.