031 Trouble in Tahiti Read online

  Listless, Rupert mumbled, "I forget."

  "Why did you pay off Marcel?" Nancy prodded.

  "I was buying information." Rupert caught their puzzled expressions and explained. "I knew there was a little action going on at the Chat Noir. I figured to spread some money around— find out things."

  "What kind of things?"

  "Actors are always getting into scrapes," Rupert explained. "It pays to know what kind of trouble they've had. I like to have that kind of insurance when I negotiate contracts with film people."

  "Insurance? It sounds more like blackmail to me," Nancy observed. "Why did you put the squeeze on Kristin?"

  "I was stuck with a couple of bomb-o movies five years ago," Rupert said, avoiding their stern gaze. "The banks were after my— Ah. you get the idea. Krissy'd just hit it big in Horizon of Desire. When I heard about her gambling debts. I made her an offer." Exasperation made him look like a naughty little boy. "Then that do-gooder Gordon stuck his nose in. I hated to lose Krissy. but he made me a good counteroffer. A movie with him directing and Lucinda in the lead was sure to make money."

  "But Lucinda planned to retire. She was through with films," Nancy added. "That put you in a real bind, didn't it?"

  Rupert realized the significance of Nancy's words. Looking at her askance, he replied, "What are you trying to say?"

  "You had a motive, monsieur." put in Captain Mutoi gravely. "A three-million-dollar profit."

  "Give me a break!" Rupert wailed, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. *T took a loss on that deal like you wouldn't believe. Three million? That was peanuts compared to the dough I would've made if Lucinda had lived. That woman was box-office dynamite!"

  "Brian mentioned a memorandum of agreement," Nancy added. "Could we have a look at your copy?"

  Huffing and puffing, Rupert rose awkwardly to his feet. "It's below with the rest of my files."

  Captain Mutoi kept a firm grip on his shoulder as Rupert led them to the right-hand side of the boat. They descended the teakwood ladder single file, Nancy in the lead.

  Minutes later in the master stateroom, Rupert jutted his chin at the file cabinet. Nancy spent several minutes rummaging through the manila folders. Finally one marked Gordon caught her eye.

  She flipped it open and looked down at an identical copy of Brian's memorandum.

  Nancy turned to the producer. "So Brian and Kristin were with you most of the night."

  "Yeah. That's right. They showed up at my beach house about two o'clock or so."

  "Where is your beach house?" asked Nancy.

  "The other side of the island. Fifteen, twenty miles past Papeete." Rupert shot them a hopeful look. "I helped you out, right? So you're going to let me go, right?"

  "Wrong!" Captain Mutoi steered the handcuffed man up the companionway. "You're under arrest, Monsieur Holmberg. That means you're coming with me."

  'What!'' Rupert balked every step of the way. "Hey, do you know who you're talking to?"

  "I'm talking to a man who just confessed to blackmail. Step lively there." Captain Mutoi glanced at Nancy. "Would you care for a lift back to Papeete, mademoiselle?"

  Nancy shook her head. Her work here was done. "Thanks, but no. I'll walk back to Faretaha. I want to see how Bree's doing."

  "Suit yourself." The captain seized the prisoner's upper arm. "Au revoir."

  Standing before the galley, Nancy listened to Rupert's desperate pleading. She had to smile in spite of herself.

  "C-Captain, you don't really want to take me to jail. Listen, a good-looking guy like you has a great future in the movies. I'm not kidding! You want to be a star? I can make you a star. Come on, talk to me!"

  The decisive slam of a car door interrupted the producer's sales pitch. Nancy shook her head, perplexity overcoming the humor of the final scene.

  Exhaling wearily, she leaned against the bulkhead. What a case. It was proving to be one of her most difficult. Every single one of the suspects had an alibi.

  Brian and Kristin were with Rupert at his beach house, miles away from the Southwind. Manda, the mystery woman on the beach, had been seen leaving before the murder. Pierre was on board the Southwind, but he had never gone topside.

  In fact, Nancy remembered, Pierre Panchaud was in the galley when the Southmnd was rammed.

  Nancy peered through the Sea Nymph's galley hatch. The shining countertops, polished table, and swivel seats seemed to jeer at her. It was as if the galley itself were trying to tell her something.

  Frowning impatiently, Nancy drummed the bulkhead with her fingertips. This was crazy! One of the suspects had to be guilty. She had seen the hacksawed anchor chain with her own eyes.

  If only it were possible to reconstruct the scene of the crime, Nancy mused. But, of course, the idea was ridiculous. The Southwind's wreckage lay strewn all over the ocean floor.

  All at once, Nancy snapped her fingers. What was she thinking of? Of course it was possible! Rupert's Sea Nymph was an identical copy of the doomed Southmnd.

  As Nancy faced the galley hatchway, Pierre's story ran through her mind.

  "I could hear the buoy's bell ringing outside. I looked through one of the portholes and saw the buoy's green light and the big Moorea ferry passing astern . . ."

  Suddenly Nancy's eyes went wide. There were no portholes at all in the galley! The hatch would have been closed in a major storm like that. Pierre couldn't have seen anything!

  A grim smile touched her lips. "Nice try, Pierre!"

  Four minutes later Nancy was rushing into Arue's village store. She went straight to the pay phone, popped in a few coins, and began dialing.

  The phone at the other end rang three times. Kristin's voice came on the line. "Hello?"

  "Kristin, this is Nancy Drew. Would you please put Bree on? This is very important."

  "Oh, she just left. She should be there any minute."

  A bolt of fear lanced Nancy's heart. "Bree's coming to see me?"

  "Yes. Bree walked out of here five minutes ago. She left with that fellow—I forget his name—the one who used to work on their boat. He told me you sent him to fetch Bree."

  "What? I did no such thing!" Nancy replied. "Please do exactly as I say, Kristin. The second I hang up, call the police. Tell them Bree's with Pierre Panchaud. He's the killer!"

  Nancy hung up. Heart pounding with apprehension, she rushed into the street. She should have known what Pierre was up to the moment she and Captain Mutoi had found the Sous le Vent gone.

  I was a little slow on the uptake on this one, Nancy thought. Pierre told me the clue himself, but I didn't realize the significance of it. When he joined the Southwind's crew five years ago, Pierre was in Japan. He was setting up his smuggling ring. The Sous le Vent is his boat. He registered it under the alias "Henri Chaumette."

  Pierre must have heard about his partners' arrest and put the boat to sea. It was only twelve miles to Moorea, the nearest island. He could have anchored there in safety.

  Nancy forced herself to remain calm. If Pierre and Bree had left the estate on foot, then the Sous le Vent had to be around here somewhere. Pierre was too smart to stray too far from his only means of escape.

  Crossing the street, Nancy jogged along the rusting seaside railing, searching the boatyard for the Sous le Vent. Finally, her keen gaze spied a small wharf, half-hidden behind a grove of palm trees. Pierre's boat lay at anchor there, hull creaking as it strained against the mooring lines.

  Nancy sneaked aboard, intent on disabling the engine. Then she could call the police. Once again she slipped the cabin latch. There was no response from within. Taking a deep breath, she made her way below.

  No sooner had Nancy closed the hatch than she heard muffled voices. The boat shifted in the water as people climbed aboard. Nancy flattened herself against the cabin bulkhead, listening.

  "I'm glad you decided to help us, Pierre."

  "Ah, you can thank Nancy Drew for that, Bree. After she told me about Tayo's murder, I knew I had to come forward."


  Nancy eased the door open a crack. Bree was on the starboard side, looking out to sea. Pierre stood several steps behind her. He opened a box of fishing tackle, studying its interior pensively. Then, as if changing his mind, he set it down on a fisherman's chair and went to free the mooring lines.

  Nancy fretted silently. At first she had planned to sabotage Pierre's engine. But she didn't dare leave Bree now!

  "I hope Nancy gets here soon," Bree said, letting the breeze ruffle her long black hair.

  Pierre stood erect. He held a length of nylon rope in his hands. He snapped it once, testing its strength. Then he slowly wound it round his hands.

  "So do I, mademoiselle. So do I."

  Nancy's blue eyes flickered in alarm.

  Pierre quietly came up right behind Bree. Then he lifted the strangle cord with deadly, ominous precision.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nancy burst out of hiding. "Don't try it, Pierre!"

  Astounded, Pierre stepped back. Nancy took advantage of his momentary confusion, pulling an equally startled Bree away from him.

  Bree stumbled against her. "Nancy, what are you—?"

  "He killed your mother." Nancy pointed at the rope in his hands. "He was just about to strangle you."

  Pierre dropped the rope. "You're crazy!"

  Nancy aimed her forefinger at him. "Everybody had an alibi. Yours is the best one of all. In fact, it's too good, Pierre."

  Pierre's hand drifted toward a box of fishing tackle. He must have a weapon in there! Nancy realized. She darted forward, then stopped short as Pierre's hand emerged, holding a small snub-nosed automatic pistol. "Too late," he said with a sneer.

  Nancy took a deep breath to calm herself. Her only hope now was to try to deflect his attention by talking, stalling him until she could think of a way to get at the weapon.

  Careful to make no suspicious movements, she slowly lowered her hands to her sides. "Let's go over your story. You said you saw the green light on the bell buoy and the ferry passing astern. The Southwind witnesses told me the same thing. Your stories all meshed. But that's impossible!"

  Pierre's trigger finger twitched, and Nancy fought to keep all signs of alarm from her face.

  "There's one thing wrong with your story, Pierre," Nancy added quickly. "You can't see any of that from inside the Southwind. There are no portholes in the galley. The reason you saw all that is because you were on deck with Lucinda Prado. And you were on deck because you killed her!"

  "Why on earth would he want to kill my mother?" asked Bree.

  "Pierre was a smuggler," Nancy explained, glancing at Bree. "That's why he signed aboard the Southwind in Japan five years ago. He was looking for a way to ship stolen computer parts into Papeete. He knew Lucinda Prado was a big star. The customs people were unlikely to search her yacht that thoroughly. So he stashed his goods aboard and returned to Tahiti with you people."

  Pierre glanced murderously at Nancy, but she plunged ahead—anything to keep him occupied. "The night of the storm, Pierre had the whole boat to himself," Nancy went on. "That's when he took those computer parts out of hiding. He probably planned to move them ashore in the morning. But then your mother returned unexpectedly, Bree. She caught Pierre with the goods. She went topside, intending to take the dinghy back to shore and report him to the police. Pierre followed her on deck, came up behind her, and killed her!"

  A ghastly expression crossed Pierre's face. Nancy could see that the murder had happened just as she had guessed.

  She took advantage of his astonishment to race on. "Pierre had to move fast. He had no way of knowing whether or not your father was right behind," Nancy added. "Pierre realized that the anchor winch would make too much noise. So he took a hacksaw and cut the anchor chain. The Southmnd went out with the tide. Pierre steered her right into the path of that freighter. Then he took a life preserver and went over the side."

  Pierre's eyes were desperate. "I didn't mean to—"

  "Tell us another one," Nancy urged, seeing that her account of the events had made him forget the deadly weapon he held. "Just like you didn't mean to put that snake in Bree's bed, right? Or drop that load of scrap on me." Looking down, she noticed that Pierre was wearing boat shoes. "You left some nice clear footprints there and at Vaipahi, when you took that shot at us."

  Pierre shuffled, as if trying to escape Nancy's accusatory stare.

  "And let's not forget Tayo," Nancy pressed. "You found out he was diving at the Southwind's old anchorage. You're a scuba diver. You checked yourself and found the anchor gone. So the next time Tayo went diving, you cruised by in the Sous le Vent and shot him with your spear gun. The sharks did the rest."

  "You're a smart little snooper, Nancy Drew," Pierre spat. "If I'd known you were that smart, I'd have aimed that spear gun at you instead of her."

  He raised the gun's muzzle with an icy chuckle. "Maybe I'll have better luck with this, eh?" He tilted his head at the cabin. "Inside, both of you. Now!"

  Nancy had lost her first wager, but she would never give up hope. As she followed Bree through the hatchway she said as bravely as she could, "You can't get away. The police know just as much as I do."

  "I've got nothing to lose, if you're telling the truth." Pierre shoved Nancy onto the settee. "They've already got me for two murders. Two more won't make any difference."

  Keeping the girls covered, Pierre started up the boat's engines. His free hand spun the steering wheel to starboard.

  "I believe you two are about to have a little accident." Pierre pushed the thrust levers forward. The engine roared.

  "Like the one you prepared for Tayo?" cried Bree angrily.

  "Something like that." Pierre's grin was cold. "I thought I had it all worked out. I forgot about the anchor, though. Tayo didn't—too bad for him! I thought I was home free." He scowled at Bree. "Then you came back to Tahiti. There'll be no slip-ups this time!"

  Glancing over her shoulder, Nancy looked through the porthole. Arue's waterfront receded steadily, obscured by rolling whitecaps.

  Bree began to sob.

  Nancy took her hand and squeezed it. "Don't. We're not beaten yet."

  "I—I was thinking of my father," Bree whispered tearfully. "I was so wrong! I was so unfair to him and Kristin. And now I'll never get the chance to apologize."

  "We'll see about that," Nancy whispered. "Just keep your eyes and ears open, Bree. Aiid be ready to follow my lead."

  Ten minutes later Pierre cut power to the engines. The boat rolled in the trough of the waves. Crossing the cabin, he jerked his gun muzzle at a pile of scuba gear. "Carry that out on deck! Quick!"

  Nancy made certain that she grabbed the air tanks. A desperate plan was beginning to take shape in her mind. It was a very long shot, she knew, but it was all she had.

  Pierre ordered Bree to suit up. She obeyed, donning the gear like the expert she was. Her fearful eyes stayed riveted to the gun. Then he told Nancy to put on a pair of flippers. Nancy did as she was told, then slipped one of the air tanks into Bree's harness.

  As she hooked up the regulator, Nancy asked coolly, "How do you plan to work it this time?"

  Pierre smiled thinly. "Bree went diving and got into trouble. You put on those flippers and jumped in to save her. You both drowned."

  Nancy picked up the second compressed air tank. Suddenly she turned to face Pierre, the nozzle of the air tank aimed at his face.

  His smile vanished as a jet of compressed air exploded in his eyes.

  "Bree! Over the side! Quick!" Nancy called. She kept her thumb on the valve, blinding Pierre with a stinging blast of air. There was a bang as his gun fired wildly into the air.

  Dropping the tank, Nancy followed her friend. She reached the gunwale in two seconds and launched herself into the sea like an Olympic diving champion. Long overhead strokes carried her away from the boat.

  Just ahead, Bree treaded water, waving frantically. "Nancy, dive! I'll meet you below!"

  A rain of bullets kicked up
miniature fountains on either side of Nancy. Taking a deep breath, she plunged into an oncoming wave.

  Soup-warm water enveloped her. Kicking from the waist, Nancy propelled herself into the depths. Bree swam toward her, a silhouette in a universe of turquoise light. Slipping the bubbling air regulator from her mouth, she offered it to Nancy.

  Grateful, Nancy took a lifesaving breath. Buddy-breathing off the same tank, they could stay under for almost an hour.

  They passed the regulator back and forth. Bree pulled insistently on Nancy's forearm, tugging her out to sea.

  Minutes later Nancy heard a burbling splashdown behind them. Turning, she saw Pierre beneath the boat's hull, scuba rig on his back, spear gun in his hands. Spying the girls, he moved quickly, a line of bubbles trailing behind him.

  Nancy swam deeper and faster, Bree at her side. Water pressure squeezed her eyeballs. Nancy took a long breath from Bree's mouthpiece, then kicked with a powerful, rhythmic stroke.

  Ahead, the seabed dipped into a black sand hollow, overgrown with kelp. In the center lay an old Liberty ship left after World War II. The wreck lay on its side, a jagged torpedo crater in her rusting hull. Bree headed straight for it.

  Just then, a spear rushed overhead.

  Missed us! Nancy thought, but her relief was short-lived. They weren't the target at all!

  Pierre's spear struck a yellowfin. The fish writhed in agony. Blood stained the water a dark crimson.

  An ominous shadow crossed the sand in front of Nancy.

  She looked up. Her stomach felt as if it were full of icicles. The true purpose of Pierre's long-range shot became frighteningly clear.

  A school of gray reef sharks cruised near the surface. The scent of blood reached them. One by one, they broke formation and zoomed into the depths.

  Terror paralyzed Nancy's every nerve. She watched helplessly as the blood-crazed sharks speeded toward them. Jagged teeth gleamed as they closed in for the kill!

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bree's hand tugging at Nancy shattered her momentary paralysis. Taking a quick breath from the mouthpiece, she joined Bree in a frantic descent to the bottom.