Sweet Revenge by Carolyn Keene

hospital.”
    â€œBrock’s in good hands,” Nancy reassured her. She got up from the couch and stretched. “Anyway, you guys should get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be busy.”
    â€œWhat about you?” asked George. “Aren’t you going to bed?”
    â€œNot yet. We were interrupted before we got to check out the living room, remember? I won’t be able to fall asleep if I don’t do it.”
    Bess’s blue eyes opened wide. “But, Nan, you can’t go down there alone. It’s so late! Can’t it wait until tomorrow morning?”
    â€œToo risky,” Nancy told her. “I don’t want the cleaning staff to get the chance to clean the place up. They probably start early. I’ve got to check the room for clues tonight.”
    â€œDo you want me to come?” George asked.
    â€œNo, you’re all ready for bed. I’ll just hurry down and be right back up.” After saying good night, Nancy stepped quietly out into the hall and moved toward the elevator.
    Now every creak the elevator made seemed loud enough to wake the whole inn. Nancy held her breath when the door clanged open in the lobby—but the first floor was dark and deserted. No one was there to see her tiptoe across the lobby and into the living room.
    Did she dare switch on a light? It was so dark that Nancy knew she had no choice. Feeling along the wall inside the doorway, she clicked on the light switch, blinking in the sudden brightness.
    As she made her way across the room, she saw that the end tables were littered with glasses, crumpled napkins, festival schedules, and ashtrays. There was a faint trail on the Oriental carpet of what appeared to be sawdust footprints leading from the fireplace to a side door.
    Sawdust? Nancy suddenly asked herself. What was sawdust doing in the living room? There wasn’t any construction there!
    She gently pushed open the side door. The tracks led into a narrow hallway that Nancy hadn’t been down before. Leaving the side door ajar so she could see by the light from the living room, she stepped out and followed the yellow footprints to—
    â€œThe kitchen,” Nancy murmured aloud. “Another entrance to the kitchen!”
    She held her breath as she switched on a kitchen light—then let out a huge sigh of disappointment.
    The trail of sawdust ended right at the kitchen door. The busboy Nancy had spoken to earlierobviously hadn’t been exaggerating when he described how clean the kitchen was kept. The floor was gleaming brightly enough to be used in a floor wax commercial!
    Then Nancy’s gaze landed on something else. On the counter right next to the light switch, within easy reach of the door, was a huge pile of Silk and Cream chocolate boxes. They were stacked in neat rows against the wall. Nancy noted that the stack closest to the door had one less box than the others. She was willing to bet that it had been the box that poisoned Brock.
    Had the poisoner gotten into the kitchen to alter the chocolates before Samantha brought them out? Was the sawdust a clue? If it was, whoever had tracked it in had probably come from the east wing of the inn. That pointed to someone who had been working there—probably Jake, Tim, or Mr. Tagley. A visitor to the east wing might have picked up a little sawdust on his or her shoes, but not enough to leave an actual trail.
    â€œHmmm,” Nancy murmured aloud. It wasn’t much of a clue—more of a hint really.
    Just then her mouth stretched open in an enormous yawn. You’ve done enough for one day, Drew. The case will have to wait until morning. Yawning again, she tiptoed back toward the elevator.
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    â€œI think I’m going to skip the brownie workshop,” Nancy told Bess and George the following morning after breakfast. “I want to head over tothe police lab. They may have figured out what poisoned Brock by now.”
    â€œDo