The Chocolate-Covered Contest

“So where do we go from here?” Joyce asked.

  “Well, I was thinking we might try a new approach,”

  Nancy said. “And I was hoping you might be able to

  help me.”

  “Anything I can do,” Joyce said. “Any ideas would be

  greatly appreciated.”

  “I want to try to find the corporate spy,” Nancy said.

  “What? I mean, so do I. But what does that have to

  do with the instant-win contest?”

  “I think it's possible that the spy leaked the instant-

  win code to the person who printed the fake wrapper. I

  know it sounds far-fetched, and I could be completely

  wrong, but it's important to find the spy regardless,

  right?”

  “Right,” Joyce agreed. “So how do you propose that

  we do that?”

  “I was hoping you could give me access to official

  Royal files. Personnel records, et cetera.”

  Joyce hesitated. “If my bosses found out, I'd be

  fired. In fact, Mr. Tumey reminded me when we

  discussed asking for your help that our files are strictly

  confidential.”

  “I understand,” Nancy said, disappointed.

  “No,” Joyce said. “Nancy, I'm desperate to get to the

  truth. At this point, I don't care about bending the

  rules or even breaking them. If you think it'll work, I

  say go for it.”

  “Are you sure? I don't want to jeopardize your job.”

  “It's already in jeopardy,” Joyce said. “Look, there's

  an end-of-season dinner tomorrow night, a sort of

  thank-you to the employees. Everyone will be there,

  and the office will be deserted. I'll let you in then. No

  one should find out. It'll be fine. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Nancy agreed. “If you say so. Thanks.”

  “Thank you,” Joyce said. “Try to get some sleep, and

  enjoy your day tomorrow.”

  Sleep. Not a bad idea, Nancy thought. Her eyes

  hurt, her feet hurt, her brain hurt. As soon as she

  returned from dinner, she changed into her pajamas

  and crawled under the cool, white sheets.

  The next thing she knew, George was showering

  after her morning jog. Even Bess was awake and

  munching a chocolate croissant.

  “I checked on the Sleuths. They're all sleeping.

  They're exhausted,” Bess informed Nancy. “Just like

  us.”

  George toweled off her hair as she emerged from

  the bathroom. “What's on the agenda for today?”

  “Andrea might get out of the hospital,” Bess said.

  “The van might get fixed. We might go home.”

  “I'm not going home,” Nancy said. “I've got big

  plans tonight. But I hope you can.”

  Bess looked at the clock. “I guess it's still too early to

  call the garage.”

  Nancy nodded. “I think,” she said, “I'm going back

  to the computer lab. Do you know how they have all

  those family trees online? Maybe I can figure out

  whether Andrea really is related to the Castle family.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  Bess rolled her eyes. “Here we go again. At your

  service,” she called as she flung open the door.

  “Andrea!” she exclaimed.

  “May I come in?”

  Nancy could see that Andrea's face was drawn and

  pale.

  “Of course.” Bess moved aside to let her pass.

  “Please. Sit down. How are you? How did you get

  here?”

  “I took a taxi,” Andrea replied. “And I'm feeling

  better. Or at least I was, until I heard what you were

  saying just now.”

  Bess looked perplexed. “What?”

  “About me. Why are you checking up on me behind

  my back? If you have a question, I wish you'd ask me to

  my face.”

  “I'm sorry, Andrea,” Nancy said. “We've developed

  some pressing questions in the last day, and you

  haven't been available to answer them. Frankly, we had

  reason to doubt that you'd answer them truthfully.”

  Andrea leaned back against the pillow. “I'm sorry

  you've come to that conclusion. May I ask why?”

  Nancy explained what had happened in her meeting

  with Mr. Castle the day before. She told Andrea about

  the lab finding rubber cement on Bess's wrapper, the

  realization that Andrea had apparently lied about

  where she bought the chocolates and finally the

  tombstone Kenny had found in the haunted house that

  led Nancy to think Andrea might be related to the

  Castles.

  “You're right,” Andrea said simply.

  “I'm right?” Nancy repeated.

  “I'm related to the Castles. If you can call it a

  relationship.”

  “I don't understand, Andrea,” Bess said. “Why didn't

  you tell us?”

  “I didn't think it was any of your business. I didn't

  want anyone to know. It was a mistake.” Andrea's voice

  was low. “I'm sorry.”

  “All right.” Bess reached out and took her hand.

  “But tell us now. Please tell us what's going on.

  “Okay.” Andrea nodded. “Remember hearing the

  story of poor Robert Castle, the immigrant who

  founded Royal Chocolates? Well, Joyce left out some

  important information. His real name was Roberto

  Cassella, and he didn't start Royal Chocolates by

  himself. The whole thing was his brother's idea. Sal

  Cassella. My grandfather. But then they had some sort

  of disagreement. My great-uncle disowned his brother

  and changed his name. Somehow, he wound up with

  the company, all the money, everything.”

  “Wow,” Bess said. “That's terrible.”

  “I'm not surprised about that tombstone Kenny

  found. It was probably an inside joke. Robert Castle,

  Senior, was determined to bury his identity as a

  Cassella. He didn't want any of us getting our hands on

  his money. Ever.”

  “But aren't you entitled to it?” Bess asked. “I mean,

  if your grandfather helped found the company . . .”

  Andrea shook her head. “I'm related to the Castles

  by blood, but that's all. Robert Castle arranged things

  legally so that the Cassellas wouldn't have any claims

  on Royal Chocolates. By law, it's as though we're not

  even family.”

  “That's awful,” George said. “Can't you do anything

  about it?”

  Andrea closed her eyes. “I don't care. I really don't

  care, George. It's been this way all my life. I just

  wanted the right to apply for an educational grant for

  the Sleuths, the same way anyone else could apply. But

  when I tried, they wouldn't let me. They wouldn't even

  talk to me.”

  “Why?” Nancy asked. “Why would they be so

  unfair?”

  “I wish I knew,” Andrea said. “Poor Joyce—I know

  she felt sorry for me by the third time I called. She did

  what she could. She offered a discounted rate for our

  trip to the park—a consolation, I guess. She even

  mailed me some chocolate bars.” Andrea propped

  herself up on her elbows. “This is the part you're

  waiting to hear. One of th
ose bars was the winning one.

  The grand prize wrapper.”

  “Oh.” Bess reacted as this sank in. “Oh! My

  wrapper.”

  “I was so shocked when I saw it,” Andrea said. “I

  actually thought maybe it was Joyce's secret way of

  helping me with the Sleuths' finances. Then I realized

  that was ridiculous. It would be illegal to tamper with

  the outcome of the contest. Anyhow, I wasn't even

  eligible to claim the prize because of my relation to the

  Castles. Pretty ironic, if you ask me, since they won't

  have anything to do with me.”

  “That's when you decided to glue the wrapper back

  on and give it to Bess,” George said.

  “That's right,” Andrea confirmed. “And I really did

  buy all the other chocolates at the park that first day we

  were here. I never thought that would wind up being

  an issue. I'm not very good at lying. Obviously, I don't

  have much practice.”

  “But why didn't you tell us what was going on?” Bess

  asked.

  “I didn't want to get you mixed up in it,” Andrea

  explained. “I was relying on your basic human decency,

  Bess. I was pretty sure I could count on you to do the

  right thing and contribute some of the money back to

  the Sleuths.” Andrea looked Bess in the eye. “And you

  did. It would have worked, if it weren't for one thing:

  Diana had already claimed the prize.”

  “This is all starting to make sense now,” Nancy said

  slowly. “Except if yours is the real winning wrapper,

  where did Diana get hers? And why has she been

  spying on us since we got here?”

  “I have no idea about any of that.” Andrea's eyes

  went from Bess to George to Nancy. “I'm sorry for

  misleading you. I hope you believe me.”

  “So you're saying the van accident and the peanut

  butter accident—they were accidents?” George asked.

  Before Andrea could respond, there was another

  knock at the door.

  Laura bounced into the room as soon as Bess

  cracked open the door. “We're on TV!” she announced.

  Nancy flipped on the television set, and Laura

  changed the channel until she found the local morning

  news. They were running a story about the Royal

  Chocolates contest.

  Diana's picture flashed across the screen.

  “Hey,” George said a moment later. “There you are,

  Bess.”

  Bess's cheeks turned red. “That's a terrible picture.

  Where did they get that?”

  “Where did they get the story, period?” Nancy

  murmured.

  “Shh,” Andrea said. She was listening intently.

  The program cut to a shot of a reporter standing at

  the entrance to the Kings Commons parking lot.

  “Could you offer an official comment about the

  Crown Jewels contest controversy, Mr. Tumey?”

  There was a close-up of John Tumey, his irritated

  scowl filling the screen.

  “No comment,” he growled.

  The camera pulled back to show his car pulling away

  from the gate. Nancy's heart pounded when she saw

  the shot. Mr. Tumey was driving a midsize white car.

  “Hey,” Laura said. “That looks like the car that ran

  us off the road at Jungle Kingdom!”

  12. News Flash

  Nancy squinted at the tiny picture on the television

  screen. “That's a common enough automobile model.

  But you're right, Laura. It looks like the car that ran us

  off the road.”

  Laura finally took her eyes off the TV and noticed

  her surroundings. “Andrea!” she exclaimed. “You're

  back. Are you okay?”

  “I'm fine,” Andrea assured her. “And very glad to be

  here, too.”

  Laura grabbed Andrea's hand and pulled her off the

  bed. “Come on. Come say hi to everybody. They'll all

  want to see you. We were so worried. Are we going

  home today?”

  Even after Bess closed the door, Nancy could hear

  their chatter all the way down the hall.

  “I'd sure like to know how I wound up on the news,”

  Bess said. “Hey—you know what? Maybe that person

  who called Hannah really was a reporter, Nan. Maybe

  she was working on the story we just saw. Do you think

  that's who was looking us up in the Royal computer

  lab?”

  “I doubt it,” George said. “Why would the reporter

  use the computers here? She must have the Internet at

  the TV station.”

  “She obviously came here to work on her story,”

  Bess pointed out. “We just saw her on TV, standing in

  front of the chocolate factory. Maybe she had some

  down time while she was here and decided to put it to

  good use.”

  “I'm more concerned with where she got the story

  idea,” Nancy said. “We know nobody from Royal talked

  to the press in an official capacity. They were trying

  their hardest to keep the wrapper mix-up quiet. Joyce

  said Diana doesn't even know about the problems with

  the contest.”

  “I guess she knows now,” George observed. “It's

  going to be all over the news.”

  “That's true.” Nancy muted the TV with the remote

  control.

  “I don't get it,” Bess said. “Who could have leaked

  the story?”

  “Besides the corporate spy,” Nancy said, “there's

  only one other person I know of with a motive to make

  things rough for Royal.”

  “Andrea?” George guessed.

  “Wait,” Bess said. “Andrea wouldn't do something

  like that.”

  “I'd like to believe that, Bess,” Nancy said. “I

  sympathize with her situation, and I'm glad she finally

  came clean with us. But did she tell the whole truth?

  We can't be sure, can we?”

  Bess sighed. “I like Andrea. She's trying to do a good

  thing.”

  “I agree,” Nancy said. “I like her, too. I just can't

  forget Mr. Castle's face when he heard me mention

  Andrea's name. I know he thought she staged her

  accidents to give Royal a bad rap. And when you

  combine those accidents with this news leak, I'm sorry.

  I have to wonder.”

  “But what about the Pleasant spy?” Bess asked.

  Nancy nodded. “I know. It's possible that a high-

  level Royal employee is the corporate spy. If so, that

  person would be aware of the problems with the

  instant-win contest. Maybe he or she decided to leak

  that information to the press to give Royal a bad name.

  If too many people lost faith in Royal they would stop

  buying Royal products, and the business would really

  suffer. I'm sure that even Royal's instant-win contests

  would become less effective at attracting new

  customers. Their stock prices would go down, and

  Pleasant would find itself a big winner.”

  “I bet it's that nasty Mr. Tumey,” Bess suggested. “I

  bet he's the spy.”

  “That thought crossed my mind,” Nancy said.

  “Besides Joyce, he's the only person who knows I'm br />
  working on this case. I know we don't have proof that

  the car that ran us off the road was his. But if it was,

  maybe he was trying to scare us off the case before we

  figured out who the spy was.”

  Bess had begun pacing. “So what are you going to do

  next, Nan?”

  The phone rang.

  Nancy held up her hand. “Answer the phone.”

  The caller was from the auto repair shop. He said

  the van was fixed and could be picked up whenever

  they were ready.

  “Yes!” Andrea said with feeling when she returned

  to the room. “We can all go home this afternoon.”

  “That's great.” Nancy replaced the receiver. “But I

  can't go with you.”

  “Why not?” Andrea's voice cracked.

  “I need to spend another night at the park. There's

  something I have to take care of before I leave.”

  Andrea bit her lip. “So you're going to leave us short

  one chaperon?”

  “We'll manage,” George said cheerfully. “We've

  managed so far, right?”

  “I guess.” Andrea stared at the floor.

  Nancy knew Andrea wanted to know what Nancy's

  plans for tonight were. Nancy just didn't feel

  comfortable giving away any information about the

  investigation. She hoped Joyce's files would give her

  the evidence she needed to identify the spy, and to get

  to the bottom of the instant-win mystery. More than

  anything, she hoped they would be able to prove that

  Andrea was telling them the truth.

  “I'll let you pack.” Andrea excused herself. “I'm

  going to take a cab to pick up the van. I guess I'll be

  paying for it with more money I don't have. I'll see you

  later.”

  “Hopefully, she will have that money the next time I

  see her,” Nancy said after Andrea had left.

  “I'm keeping my fingers crossed,” Bess said.

  George tossed a pile of clothes in Bess's direction.

  “If we're going to leave today, you'd better start

  packing. It might take several hours.”

  Bess dragged both her suitcases out of the closet.

  “Let's not forget, I'm the one who brought the blazer.

  It came in handy, didn't it?”

  “I see it's the only thing actually left on a hanger. I

  guess that's because Nancy's the one who took care of

  it.”

  “Do you think you could argue quietly?” Nancy

  teased them. “I need to make a phone call.”

  While Bess and George packed, Nancy phoned the

  news station that had aired the instant-win story. She