Moving Target (10 page)

Nancy nodded.

“Well, my water bottle tipped over against a hot frying pan, and it melted a groove in the top.
This one doesn't have a mark on it. This is not my water bottle.”

“That's what I was afraid of,” Nancy said.

“What do you mean?” George asked.

“I think CJ has yours—and whatever made him sick was intended for you!”

G
EORGE STARED
at Nancy, shock apparent in her expression. “Then someone really
is
out to get me,” she said. “But why? Oh, poor CJ. I feel so responsible for all this.”

Nancy shook her head. “No way!” she said. “Whoever it is that's pulling these stunts has a reason, and I intend to find out who that person is. And since Kendra filled the water bottles, I think that's where I'll start.”

“Are you going to talk to her now?” George asked, looking over at the trio standing by the bikes. “They're getting ready to pull out.”

“No, not now,” said Nancy. “We're not that far from Lakeview. I'll wait till we get there. I don't want to tip my hand in front of anyone else who might be a suspect.” She gave George a
frustrated look. “And unfortunately, at this point, they're
all
suspects.”

“Well, if it's Erik, there's not much he can do to me while he's pumping that bike.” She grinned. “He's not going to jeopardize his lead by taking time to bump me off while we're riding, so I guess I'll go and give him a run for his money. See you at the lake.”

Despite her concern, Nancy smiled, too. “See you,” she repeated. “By the way, we are sharing a cabin.” She stressed the word
sharing
. “I'm sticking to you like glue when we get there.”

The ride from the roadside stop to Lakeview was uneventful. Mr. Kipling, the owner, was waiting for them when they arrived. The wrinkles on his tanned face deepened into a smile as the cyclists approached. He was short, but there was nothing small about his bass voice. “Mr. Nickerson called from the hospital in Moorestown,” he boomed. “Your friend is going to be all right. They're not sure what caused his collapse, but it's not his heart or anything major.”

His announcement was greeted with comments of relief from all the riders. Nancy watched Kendra carefully while Mr. Kipling spoke. Her whole body, as well as her expression, seemed to relax after hearing the good news about CJ.

“I'd like a cabin by myself if possible,” Jennifer
said. She smiled shyly at the owner. She looked over at Kendra. “No offense intended, but my roommate has more of a social life than I do, and I'd like to get a good night's sleep before we start back.”

“No problem,” said Mr. Kipling. “Another cycling group just canceled their reservation. Each of you can have a private cabin if you want it.” He handed out keys as he was talking.

“Just one for us,” Nancy said. “George and I will share a cabin.”

“Okay, then number ten for you two. It's a little bigger. You're all right in the same area. Your keys are numbered. Dinner's at seven,” he continued. “Barbecued chicken. Come to the picnic area by the big house. The showers are over in that cement-block building.” He laughed. “And our rustic communications center—that's the pay phone—is to the right of the showers, by the edge of the woods. The booth is a little rickety, but the phone works just fine.”

“Thanks,” Nancy said. “Let's go, George.”

They wheeled their bikes over to cabin ten and unlocked the door. The cabin was sparsely furnished but neat and clean, with freshly laundered muslin curtains at the windows and a braided rag rug on the floor.

George stretched out on the bed. “I don't know what I want to do first,” she said. “Take a nap or have a shower.”

“They both sound good,” Nancy agreed. She
had pulled the curtain aside from the window and was watching to see where the others were lodged. “Looks as if Kendra's got the place next to us, then Erik, and Jennifer's a couple down from him. She's closer to the woods.”

“What did you think of her asking for a private cabin?” George asked, propping herself up on one elbow. “Isn't that a little strange, or am I getting paranoid?”

“I wondered myself, but it makes it easier for me to talk to Kendra alone,” Nancy replied. “Jennifer's reason was legitimate. Kendra
did
come in late last night.” She let the curtain drop. “Kendra's gone over to the showers. Why don't you go ahead and have a nap, and I'll talk to her when she comes back? Then we can go and clean up before dinner.” Nancy turned around and smiled. George was already asleep.

Kendra was a long time in the shower building, and Nancy waited a few minutes after she came back, before going to her door. She was fairly certain what kind of a reception she was going to get, and she wasn't looking forward to it. George was still sleeping, and Nancy locked the cabin when she left.

She knocked lightly on the door to Kendra's cabin, and Kendra opened it immediately. She was dressed in sweats and barefooted, her face scrubbed clean of makeup and her head wrapped in a towel. “Come in,” she said. “I've been expecting you.”

Nancy, surprised at the comment, stepped inside. Kendra motioned for her to sit in the one chair in the room. She sat down on the edge of the bed, facing Nancy. Nancy could tell she'd been crying. Her face was puffy, and her eyes were red.

“You were responsible for CJ's illness,” Nancy said to her. “Weren't you?”

Kendra nodded and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders heaved up and down as she tried to catch her breath. “I'm sorry,” she sobbed. “I never meant for him to get sick. I never meant for anybody to get
that
sick. Michael said it would just make a person throw up.”

“You intended it for George,” Nancy said.

“Yes, but—but somehow their water bottles got mixed up. And it wasn't my idea. It was Michael's. He was just trying to help me get even with her for being with CJ.” She stopped and dug in her pocket for a tissue, then blew her nose loudly.

“Kendra, what did you put in that bottle? You could have killed someone!”

Kendra nodded. “I realized that when CJ kept passing out.” She got up and walked over to the small desk at the foot of the bed and picked up a prescription bottle. “I take these antihistamines for allergies,” she said, handing a bottle to Nancy. “And I take these,” she said, handing her another bottle, “when I can't sleep. Before Michael
and I went to the fair together, he saw them in my room. Later he said it would be a good way to put George out of commission for the rest of the ride. Just open up the capsules, one of each, and dump the stuff in her water bottle.” She sniffled and blew her nose again.

“So you emptied the contents of the capsules into George's water bottle and then filled it up with all the others.”

Kendra nodded. “Michael said the water at Bannon House was so heavily chlorinated that she'd never notice. But CJ picked up George's bottle. I didn't know it until he got sick.”

Nancy stared at her in disbelief. She felt as if she were dealing with a child. “Kendra, don't you know anything about drug reactions? Didn't you realize that mixing two prescription drugs can be extremely dangerous? Or that someone might have an allergic reaction to the drugs?”

“Michael said it would just make her throw up,” she repeated. “He even said everybody would blame Erik because he wants to beat George so badly. I'm sorry, Nancy. I'm truly sorry. I never meant for anything like this to happen.”

“Kendra, I'm going to ask you a question, and I'd like a straight answer.”

“Okay.”

“Did you leave that note in our room last night?”

Kendra's gaze dropped to the floor. “Yes,” she said quietly. “But I wasn't
in
your room. It was locked. I slipped the note under the door.”

Nancy nodded. “Are you meeting Michael tonight?”

“He said he'd come by after dinner, but I'm not going anywhere with him. It was pretty dumb to go out with him in the first place—I mean, since I don't really know him and all. I was just so mad about George and CJ. . . .”

“I think that's a smart decision,” Nancy replied. “When you do see him, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this conversation.”

“Okay. Are you going to tell everybody that I put the stuff in the water?”

“No,” Nancy said. “But I'll tell George. She deserves to know, since she was the target.”

Kendra nodded. “Nancy?” she said hesitantly. “I called the hospital in Moorestown from here and told them what was in the water CJ drank. I didn't say who I was, though.”

“At least you told them. That was the right thing to do.”

Nancy left the cabin and walked back to hers. George was awake when she unlocked the door. “I'm still hungry and dirty, but I'm not tired now,” she said. “How did you do with Kendra?”

“I'll tell you on the way to the showers.”

• • •

Dinner was over when Michael arrived. “Folks at the hospital say they may keep CJ overnight,”
he announced as he approached the picnic area. “Nothing serious. Just stomach upset. Nickerson's going to stay with him.” He seemed disappointed that his good news had been preceded by a phone call with the same information.

Nancy leaned over to George. “This is a good time to split,” she said quietly, getting up. They were walking back to their cabin when Mr. Kipling came out of the main house, carrying a guitar and a big bag of marshmallows.

“Oh, you're not leaving already?” he said. “I've got a bonfire going down on the beach.”

“We're pretty tired, Mr. Kipling,” Nancy said. “But the others are still at the table.”

“Well, goodnight then.”

George smiled. “It's like a personal insult to him if you leave early. Come to think of it, Nancy, why are we leaving early?”

“Because we have work to do.”

“That's what I was afraid of. I thought that with Kendra's confession, we had this all figured out. Who are we working on now?”

“Jennifer. We still haven't figured out who cut your brake cables. Or who trashed our room last night. Or why Jennifer was looking for a bus. I want to check her room while she's down on the beach.”

“Okay,” said George. “But I guarantee you're not going to find anything in her room. She carries it all with her. I think that hot-pink fanny pack of hers is like a growth around her waist.
You never see her without it. I'll bet she sleeps with it on!”

Nancy grinned and pulled something out of the pocket of her jeans. “Maybe.” She stopped at the door to Jennifer's cabin, slid the credit card in her hand between the doorjamb and the lock, then slowly turned the knob. The door opened. “Set that small table lamp on the floor,” she said to George. “And cover it with a pillowcase. It'll give us enough light to see by but won't be obvious from the beach.”

George nodded. “I'll take the backpack,” she said. “You take the stuff on the desk.”

“Look!” said Nancy, moving over toward the light. “Her wallet and her checkbook. If she left this stuff here, I wonder what she does carry in that fanny pack.” She handed the checkbook to George. “See what's in here while I look in the billfold.”

“Wow!” George said. “She's had two hefty deposits in the last thirty days, two hundred dollars each, about ten days apart. She can't earn
that
much working part-time at the diner. And from what she told us, her parents couldn't send her this much money. Oh, this is interesting,” George continued. “She spent fifty bucks at a beauty parlor on Friday.”

“This is interesting, too,” Nancy said, as she examined the contents of Jennifer's wallet. “How tall are you, George?”

“Five feet eight inches, as if you didn't know.”

“Color of hair?”

“What do you mean, color of hair?”

“Color of eyes?”

“What is this, Nancy? Twenty questions?”

Nancy laughed. “Look here,” she said, passing the wallet to George. “Look at her driver's license. At a quick glance, who does that picture remind you of?”

George held the license out at arm's length and looked at it critically. “The haircut's the same, and she's definitely a natural brunette.” She looked up at Nancy. A sense of foreboding passed between them as each stared at the other.

“Nan,” George said, “do you think somebody's mistaking me for Jennifer?”