If Looks Could Kill by Carolyn Keene Page B

and sat in the wicker armchairs. Nancy could tell that both Martika and Derek were upset, even though Martika was showing it more.
    â€œOh, Nancy,” Martika said. “It’s horrible, just horrible! I told the police captain that it couldn’t be Kurt, but he wouldn’t listen.” Martika buried her face in her hands. Derek put an arm around her to comfort her, but she shook him off coldly.
    â€œMartika,” Nancy said sympathetically, “this has hit you pretty hard, I know.”
    â€œI still love him, Nancy,” Martika said, raising her tear-stained face. “I don’t know why it all went wrong, but I still feel for him, deep down. That’s why I gave him the job here. I hoped that once he got himself together . . .” Martika couldn’t go on. She started to sob.
    â€œIf it makes you feel any better,” Nancy said, “I don’t think Kurt is the murderer either. I think someone set him up.” She explained to Martika and Derek what she had told Bess and George the night before. “And another thing,” she added. “There was no silencer on the gun.”
    Martika had stopped crying now. She and Derek stared at Nancy. Bess and George seemed confused, too.
    â€œWhat do you mean, Nan?” Bess asked. “Maybe the killer just threw the silencer in the ocean and kept the gun to make Kurt look guilty.”
    â€œPossibly,” Nancy replied. “But why not just put the gun and silencer under his pillow?”
    â€œWhat if there wasn’t a silencer?” George asked.
    â€œThen why didn’t I hear a gunshot the night Martika was shot at on the beach?” Nancy pointed out.
    Out of the corner of her eye, Nancy saw Derek flinch. He glanced at Martika for a second and then collected himself.
    He had just given something away, Nancy knew. He’d realized something—but what was it?
    â€œMaybe the killer used a silencer for his first attempt but didn’t bother with it last night,” Bess suggested.
    â€œOr what about that spent firework you found,Nan?” George asked. “Maybe it was what made the sound of the shot.”
    Again Nancy saw the light go on and off in Derek’s eyes. “Er, excuse me,” he said, getting up and checking his watch. “This is all fascinating, but I have to get to work. The guests need my attention.”
    Martika got up to join him, but Derek said, “You stay here, Martika. You’ll feel better if you let yourself talk things out with Nancy. I’ll take care of everything.” Before Martika could protest, he was out the door.
    That wasn’t like Derek, Nancy reflected. He was acting so diligent and helpful. Something was wrong with the picture. If only she knew what.
    Martika became restless and uncomfortable once Derek had gone. “You know,” she said, rising abruptly, “I really should get down to breakfast myself. The guests will be gathering, and I ought to take charge before the gossip gets out of hand. Christina will be there, you see—and so will Preston. She’s sure to try to convince him to pull his money out of my spa, what with the murder and all. And the newspeople. Who knows what they’re writing about all this? I’d better get down there right away!”
    Having worked herself up into a nervous state, Martika hurried out of the suite. When she wasgone, George said, “What just happened, Nan? Why did they both get so nervous and leave so abruptly?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Nancy said, going over to the door. “But I’m curious to find out. Why don’t we go down to breakfast and see? I want to keep an eye on Christina Adams, too. As far as I’m concerned, she and Derek are both still suspects. I’d be interested to know how she’s reacting to Kurt’s arrest.”
    Breakfast was served in the dining room that morning. All the guests were talking in hushed tones about