Sinister Paradise by Carolyn Keene Page A

poor Lisa killed?
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    The Ka Lae was an old hotel, a 1920s tourist mecca that had fallen upon hard times. Still, its whitewashed facade, Moorish arches, and lush garden made it stand out in its rundown neighborhood.
    George reached for her door handle. “Let’s wrap this up.”
    â€œNot so fast, George,” Nancy said softly. “I think maybe we’d better try a soft probe first. You know, the more I learn about this case, the less I’m certain of. Someone’s trying to keep us away from Lisa. Why?” She glanced at each of her friends. “Both Alice and Ross mentioned business difficulties. How do they fit into Lisa’s disappearance?”
    â€œI thought Lisa ran away,” George commented.
    â€œSo did I, at first. Now I’m not so sure.” Nancy studied the front entrance. “Lisa couldn’t afford airfare to get to San Francisco, right? Then how can she afford to stay here? ”
    â€œYou’re right, Nan,” added Bess. “She didn’t sell anything to Boomer.”
    â€œBess, I need you and George for a diversion,” Nancy said, opening her car door. “Get the desk clerk out of the lobby for a few minutes, okay?”
    â€œYou bet!” Bess said enthusiastically. “The Undercover Cousins strike again.”
    Nancy and Ned waited until the cousins had entered the lobby, then strolled up the front walk. Ned lingered at the right side of the entryway. Nancy peeked around the door jamb. She heard a TV set somewhere in the lobby.
    â€œKilauea volcano erupted today, spewing tons of lava into the air. Geologists say this is the biggest eruption in ten years. . . .”
    Nancy tuned out the broadcast, straining to hear the girls’ conversation with the desk clerk.
    â€œWhat can I do for you, ladies?”
    â€œMy cousin and I are looking for an apartment,” George said.
    â€œWell, you girls are in luck. I’ve got three vacancies. Let me shut this thing off, and I’ll show you around.”
    â€œObservers report volcanic blasts sixty feet high . . .”
    Click! The TV died. “This way. Hey, what do you girls think of our volcano, eh?” asked the clerk.
    Bess chuckled nervously. “I’m glad I don’t live next door to it!”
    Their footsteps receded into the distance. Nancy peered around the comer. The lobby was completely deserted. “They’ve gone. Let’s go!” Dashing quietly across the lobby, Nancy reached the desk and turned the guest register around. A name jumped out at her. L. Faulkner!
    Nancy lifted the master key from its wall peg. “It’s got to be Lisa,” she whispered. “She’s using her mother’s maiden name.”
    Minutes later Nancy and Ned arrived at Room 232. Nancy eased the key into the lock and pushed the door open. “Lisa?”
    Nancy switched on the overhead light, then gasped.
    The apartment was completely deserted!
    Nancy and Ned walked through the livingroom, looking around in confusion. Not a stick of furniture in sight. The place had been picked clean!
    Kneeling, Nancy ran her fingertips along the floor. “The floor’s just been waxed. Somebody cleaned out this place very thoroughly. Let’s have a look around.”
    They split up. Ned took the bedroom. Nancy checked the kitchen. Every wall and floor had been washed. They couldn’t even find a stray fingerprint.
    Frustrated, Nancy headed for the living room again. Lisa couldn’t have cleaned this apartment all by herself. Indeed, why would she even bother?
    Nancy suddenly remembered the transceiver in their car. She distinctly recalled having mentioned the Ka Lae by name. Now it was clear. Someone had tipped off Lisa and warned her to leave.
    Another—more ominous—thought entered Nancy’s mind. Suppose Lisa Trumbull had been forced to leave?
    Nancy’s gaze was drawn to the window. Gauzy drapes