Peril at Granite Peak by Franklin W. Dixon

stuff.”
    â€œYeah,” I muttered to Frank with a grin. “As long as the stuff in question isn’t the engine of a certain creaky old jalopy.”
    But Mr. Gallagher was nodding gratefully at Chet. “We can use an extra set of hands,” he said. “Come on.” He glanced at his wife. “Send Cody out to help us if you see him.”
    â€œShould we go too?” Frank asked. “We’re both pretty handy.”
    I shrugged, not really in the mood to plunge out into the storm. “Let them handle it,” I said. “Chet will come get us if he thinks we can be useful.”
    Glancing around the room, I realized that almost everyone was gathered in one room. It reminded me of those old-school mysteries where the detective gathers everyone together and announces the identity of the murderer. Too bad Frank and I hadn’t solved our mystery.
    â€œWhere’s Stanley?” Frank broke into my thoughts. “I’m surprised he hasn’t turned up to complain about this yet.”
    I realized he was right. “Who knows? With his luck, he probably was in the shower when it happened.”
    As if on cue, Stanley burst into the lobby. “What’s going on?” he exclaimed loudly. His hair looked damp in the dim, flickering light, and I grinned and elbowed Frank.
    â€œLooks like I called it, dude,” I whispered as Stanley bustled over to complain to Mrs. Gallagher.
    A few minutes later Chet walked in, breathless and pink-cheeked and shaking off the snow. He stopped in the middle of the room.
    â€œThey sent me in to say the power will be back on in a few minutes,” he announced loudly to murmurs of relief and one irritated-sounding “About time!” from Stanley.
    Then Chet hurried over. “They kick you out when they heard about the Queen?” I joked.
    Chet didn’t seem to hear me. He glanced around to make sure nobody was close enough to eavesdrop.
    â€œThis is bad,” he whispered, running a hand through his snow-dampened hair. “The generator going out was no accident. The wires were cut!”
    â€œWhat?” Frank and I said in one voice.
    Chet nodded grimly. “No question about it. Somebody did it on purpose.”
    â€œBut why?” I almost immediately realized the answer to my own question. “Unless it’s to make this place look bad.”
    â€œAgain,” Frank added with a nod. “Are they really going to be able to get it up and running again?”
    â€œYeah, sounds like it,” Chet replied. “That Rick guy is really handy. Cody, too—he and Blizz turned up a minute ago.”
    â€œI wonder . . . ,” Frank began.
    I elbowed him when I saw Poppy heading our way. “Never a dull moment around here, huh?” she said cheerfully.
    â€œRight.” I decided it couldn’t hurt to do a little investigating while we waited for the power to come on. “Um, so you were upstairs in your room when it happened, huh?”
    She nodded. “What were you guys doing? Have you gone to any of the extra activities today?”
    â€œNo, we’ve pretty much been entertaining ourselves,” Frank said.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the chef hand Stanley a plate with several cookies on it. “Excuse me a sec.”
    Leaving Poppy talking to Frank and Chet, I hurried over to intercept the chef as she left Stanley with his food. She’d been willing to talk to Chet earlier. Maybe I could get the answer to a question I’d been wondering about.
    â€œCan I ask you something?” I said. “How do you all put up with that guy?” I gestured at Stanley, who had his back to us as he wolfed down his cookies.
    â€œWho, Mr. Wright?” The chef glanced at him, then shrugged. “Just part of the job.”
    â€œOkay,” I said. “But the guy is seriously obnoxious. It’s not like anyone would blame you if you didn’t wait on him