Peril at Granite Peak by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

hand and foot, you know?”
    The chef hesitated, glancing in Stanley’s direction again. Then she winked. “Okay, I admit it. The cash helps.”
    â€œCash?” I echoed.
    She nodded. “Mr. Wright likes to play the big spender,” she whispered. “He’s been waving cash around at all of us since he arrived.” She shot me a slightly suspicious look. “Why do you ask?”
    â€œNo reason. Just curious.” I gave her my most winning smile, then wandered off. So Stanley had been flashing money at the staff to get better service. That explained a lot—like why Josie had been so worried about him after his near miss out in the storm.
    Wanting to confirm that, I glanced around. But Josie was nowhere in sight. And I didn’t quite dare go up to Mrs. Gallagher and ask if that was why they were being so nice to Stanley—because he was bringing a lot of extra cash into their struggling business.
    Did it mean anything? I wasn’t sure. But I went over to fill in Frank and Chet just in case.
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    By bedtime the storm was still going strong, though power had been back on for long enough that most of the guests seemed to have forgotten about the outage. Frank, Chet, and I were definitely not among those guests, however.
    â€œThere must be a way to figure out who could have sneaked outside long enough to cut those generator wires,” I said as I watched Frank kick off his slippers and flop onto his bed.
    He yawned. “At least we can rule out a few people,” he said. “Starting with everyone who was in the lobby with us when the lights cut off.”
    â€œAnd Poppy, who was up in her room,” I added.
    To be honest, I was feeling frustrated by our lack of progress on the case. How hard could it be to pick a troublemaker out of a couple of dozen people? There had to be clues we were missing.
    I crawled into bed and turned off the light. Could Frank and I be off our game? I was really starting to wonder. . . .
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    The next morning I woke up early, not feeling particularly well rested. It had taken longer than usual to fall asleep. And my dreams had been restless, filled with barking dogs and shouting, though I couldn’t remember many details.
    The snow was still coming down outside, but it had definitely slowed. The wind had died down too.
    â€œLooks like the storm’s almost over,” Chet said hopefully.
    I yawned. “About time. Let’s get downstairs—I’m in serious need of coffee.”
    But when we entered the dining room, we got a caffeine-free wakeup call that jolted me to full attention. The place was a mess!
    Well, not the entire place. But several tables were overturned near the kitchen door, and food wrappers and shredded napkins were scattered here and there.
    â€œWhat happened?” I called to Cody, who was rushing past with a bucket in his hand and Blizz at his heels.
    He stopped and looked at us, his face weary. “Raccoons,” he said grimly. “Somehow a window in the kitchen got broken, and they came in last night. Took a while to chase them all out. Luckily, Blizz smelled them before they had a chance to get any farther into the lodge. Woke me up by barking and scratching at the door.”
    I nodded, my weird dog dreams suddenly making a lot more sense. “Good girl,” I said, giving Blizz a pat.
    â€œCody!” Mr. Gallagher shouted from across the room. “A little help over here?”
    Cody hurried off. “Raccoons?” Frank said. “I thought they hibernated in the winter.”
    The honeymooners walked into the room just in time to hear him. “Actually, they don’t,” Nate said. “We learned all about it at the wildlife lecture yesterday. They’re less active at this time of year, but they’re not true hibernators, and . . .”His voice trailed off as he got a look