Hidden Meanings by Carolyn Keene Page B

from a table.
    Sitting down across from him, Nancy ordered an iced tea. As the waiter left, Ned pushed aside the small candleholder on the table and took Nancy’s hands in his. “This whole thing has been crazy, Nan,” he began. “I didn’t realize body-guarding was a twenty-four-hour-a-day job. Here we are, both staying in the same hotel, and we can’t spend any time together. Thank goodness this job ends when the conference is over.”
    â€œWhenever we do see each other, Gina always pops up,” Nancy added. “She really has her eye on you.”
    Ned made a face. “Yeah,” he said. “At first I thought it was kind of fun. You know, it’s flattering to have a girl throw herself at you, especially a girl that pretty. But she comes on too strong. It’s like she wants to own me. I hate that.”
    â€œAnd I hate being jealous,” Nancy said with a sigh. “I know I don’t own you, Ned, and I don’t want to. But it hurts to see you with someone else.”
    â€œI’m not ‘with’ her,” Ned said firmly. “Nancy, why would I dump you for Gina? You’re prettier, you’re smarter, you’re nicer—” Leaning over the table, he gently brushed her lips with his.
    A moment later, they pulled away from the kiss and smiled at each other. Nancy glanced past Ned for a second. Then she sat up, alert.
    The bearded man with the baggy pants was at the next table. Harold Karabell!
    Karabell was nervously fiddling with the small candle on his table. As he tipped it to the side, melted wax spilled over, snuffing out the wick. Frowning, he fished a matchbook out of his roomy pants pockets and relit the candle.
    Peering over Ned’s shoulder, Nancy stared at the matchbook. It was neon orange, with bold blue letters on the side. Ben’s Back Room, it read.
    A perfect match!

Chapter

Twelve
    N ED LOOKED AT N ANCY, concern in his eyes. “What is it, Nan? What do you see?”
    â€œDon’t turn around, Ned,” she murmured. “But the guy at the table behind you is one of my suspects. In fact, I think he’s just become my prime suspect.”
    The waiter bringing Ned’s and Nancy’s drinks approached the table. Karabell’s gaze idly followed the waiter. When he saw Nancy, he panicked. He jumped up at once and headed out of the café area.
    â€œHe’s leaving, Ned!” Nancy said. “I’ve got to follow him. Wait here.” She scrambled to her feet and sprinted to the escalator.
    Nancy spotted Karabell farther down the escalator, taking the moving steps two at a time. In front of Nancy, two men in business suits took up the whole width of the escalator. She couldn’t squeeze past them. “Excuse me,” she said impatiently.
    Deep in a discussion, the men seemed not to hear her. They didn’t move. Nancy asked again, and once more the men ignored her.
    Nancy fidgeted as the escalator descended at its own snail’s pace. She leaned over, trying to keep an eye on Karabell. She saw him hustle off the foot of the escalator and run for the front entrance.
    Springing off the escalator, Nancy dodged around the two businessmen and dashed through the lobby. She slid into a revolving door and shoved it around as fast as she could. She burst out into the hot, humid summer air. After being in the air-conditioned hotel nonstop for two days, she was surprised to remember what real air felt like.
    Standing on the curb of the driveway, Nancy looked in all directions for Harold Karabell. A red-uniformed bellman stepped over to her. “Can I get you a taxi?” he asked.
    â€œNo, thanks,” Nancy said. “But did you see a man with a brown beard come out just now? He was wearing baggy khaki pants and a green army jacket.”
    The bellman looked vague. “Yeah, he got into a cab,” he said slowly. “There was one sitting here waiting for a fare, and he took it. It