Swiss Secrets by Carolyn Keene
“You don’t deserve Monique!” Erich suddenly shouted at Franz. “You—you should have given me a chance with her.”
Franz shook his head sadly. “So that’s the reason you hate me—because Monique and I are in love?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Nancy saw a dark blue Mercedes come squealing up to the curb. Mick and an older man jumped out and rushed over to the group.
“Everything went according to plan, I see,” Mick said, giving Nancy a quick hug.
Nancy drew a shaky breath. “Yup,” she said. “How about you?”
“We’ve got Bart in the backseat,” Mick told her. “Handcuffed, of course. He’s not going anywhere now.”
“Good work!” Nancy said. Then she turned to Pascal and the police. “You see, sirs, I had a feeling that Bart might try to escape,” she said politely. “So I asked my friend Mick to ask his friend, the Australian ambassador, to give me a hand.”
Nancy nodded at the older man standing next to Mick. He was the same man who’d dropped Mick off at the cathedral a couple of days before. “Mick and the ambassador followed the armored truck until it was stopped,” Nancy continued. “Bart tried to escape, of course, but Mick managed to catch him.”
“I chased him down an alley,” Mick said. “Luckily for me it turned out to be a dead end.”
“A dead end,” Nancy repeated. She stared first at Pascal Haussman, who was gritting his teeth, then at Erich, who was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and finally at Bart Jackson, who was glaring at them from the back of the ambassador’s car.
“It was a dead end in more ways than one, I’d say.”
• • •
“Well, I can see why your family’s chocolates are so famous, Monique,” Nancy said on Saturday evening. She took a shell-shaped truffle from the box Monique was handing around and bit into it. “Mmm. These are the best I’ve ever had!”
To celebrate the end of the case, Franz, Monique, Nancy, Bess, George, and Mick had decided to go out to dinner at one of Geneva’s best restaurants. After a meal that combined the best of French cuisine with the best of German, they were all sitting around the table nibbling on the chocolates Monique had brought with her.
“Forget about chocolate for a while. I’d like to make a toast,” Franz said. He raised a brimming glass and smiled at everyone around the table. “To Nancy, Bess, and George, for their superb help in restoring my reputation—which certainly needed it,” he joked.
Turning to Mick, he added, “To Mick Devlin, a good friend who’s not afraid to use his connections.”
Then Franz stared deeply into Monique’s eyes. “And to Monique—the most wonderful girlfriend any man could have. And now, I am happy to announce, the most wonderful wife this man will have.”
“You’re engaged!” Bess squealed as everyone at the table burst into applause. “Oh, that’s fantastic!”
“It certainly is,” Nancy echoed. “When did this happen, Franz?”
Franz beamed at Nancy. “This afternoon,” he said. “I realized that my uncle was right—about one thing, anyway. I have been wasting Monique’s time. It’s time for me to stop playing jet-setter and settle down.” He smiled tenderly at Monique. “Not that that will be hard to learn, with Monique to help me,” he said.
It would have been a perfect evening, Nancy thought, except for the lingering sadness in the fact that they were here only because Franz’s uncle and cousin—as well as Bart Jackson—were now behind bars. Franz had visited his relatives in jail that afternoon, and the story he’d related to Nancy afterward hadn’t been a happy one.
“How did your uncle seem this afternoon when you visited him?” Mick asked Franz as if he were reading Nancy’s mind.
“Pathetic,” Franz said sadly. “And as for Erich”—he shook his head—“I’m not sure he’ll ever recover. He’s had some kind of breakdown.”
“Well, I hope you don’t feel sorry for Bart,” Bess said tartly. “After all, he did try to push Nancy out of that train window. And almost drown her with that cruiser of Monique’s father. He says he wasn’t trying to kill anyone, only scare Franz into cooperating with him. I don’t buy that though.”
“I do,” said Nancy. “Just think, why would he kill the person he was hired to set up. He’d never get paid. He also could have pushed me all the way out the train window, but he didn’t. I believe he was just trying to scare us.”
Mick shuddered and gave Nancy a quick squeeze when she mentioned the train again. “Erich told Bart we were on the train, I assume?” he asked.
“That’s right,” Nancy said, remembering what Franz had told her following his visit to the police station. “By the way, the reason Erich was so upset when Franz disappeared wasn’t that he was worried for Franz’s safety. He was just worried because Franz had skipped town without Bart knowing it.”
“So he was worried because he thought Franz would be safe,” said Mick dryly. “I can’t believe we actually helped him find you, Franz. Don’t tell me he was the one who pushed that boulder down the Matterhorn?”
“No,” Nancy answered for Franz. “That was Bart. And it was Bart who pushed Franz into the lake at the party. He’s confessed to everything.”
Bess shook her head in amazement. “Why didn’t any of us notice him there?” asked Bess. “You’d think one of us would have.”
“Erich had him put on a waiter’s jacket,” Franz told her. “People almost never notice the staff at a big party like that.”
Bess shivered and glanced behind her at the waiter who was hovering over their table. “Well, I’m going to start noticing,” she said.
Monique smiled. “Perhaps you will become a detective, too, then.”
“No way,” Bess said firmly. “Things get hairy enough just helping Nancy out from time to time!”
“Let’s hope Nancy can get a break from detecting in Rome, at least,” George put in, grinning at her across the table. “I think you need a vacation from your vacation, Nan.”
“Oh, are you going to Rome next?” Monique inquired.
Nancy nodded, suddenly feeling inexplicably sad. “I wish we could stay in Geneva longer, but it’s time for us to move on. We’ve only got one summer in Europe.”
“I hate to see you go so soon,” Monique said wistfully. “But as long as it’s Rome you’re going to, you should look up my friend Claudia Beluggi. Remember meeting her? She lives in Rome, and I’m sure she’d love to show you around.”
The three girls smiled. “As a matter of fact, we already got in touch with Claudia,” said Nancy. “I called her this afternoon, just to see if she remembered inviting us. Luckily, she did. We’re going to get together as soon as we arrive.”
“Oh, you will have a wonderful time,” Monique said. “Rome is a fantastic city.” She turned to Franz. “Perhaps we should go along.”
But Franz shook his head. “We need to plan our wedding,” he said. “I want to surprise my parents when they come home.” Wrapping an arm around his fiancée, he drew her closer to him. “We’ll have a whole lifetime to travel together, Monique,” he said. “And I’m sure that we’ll meet our new friends again.”
• • •
“You were awfully quiet at dinner, Mick,” Nancy commented about an hour later.
Mick sighed. “I didn’t have much to say. I’m going to Paris on the night train, you’re off to Rome. Who knows when or if we’ll see each other again?”
Dinner was over. Franz and Monique had gone home, and Bess and George had taken a cab back to the hotel so they could finish packing. They had discreetly left Nancy and Mick to catch their own cab—but Nancy and Mick had decided to walk back instead. It was a way to prolong the time they had left together, and a way to finish saying the things they needed to say to each other.
“I don’t suppose you’d consider changing your plans?” Mick asked. “Paris is a beautiful city. It would be fun to see it together.”
Nancy gave him a rueful smile. “I can’t do it, Mick. And not
A look of longing sprang into Mick’s eyes. “You feel it, too?” he asked. “Then why can’t we—”
Nancy reached up and put her finger to his lips. “It wouldn’t work,” she said. “I’ve got—commitments back home.”
She was thinking of Ned. She wasn’t sure how she felt about her boyfriend right then, but she knew she couldn’t just forget all about him. She vowed to write him a long letter the first chance she got.
“Besides,” Nancy added gently, “we’re headed in different directions.”
“I guess you’re right,” Mick said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t say goodbye properly.”
He leaned forward, and they exchanged a lingering kiss.
“I’ll miss you,” Mick said in a husky voice.
“And I’ll miss you,” Nancy whispered back.
It was the truth. Still, sad as she was to bid Mick goodbye, Nancy couldn’t help being happy at the thought of the adventures that lay ahead of her that summer. She was off to Rome—and then, who could say?
Europe lay ahead of Nancy and her friends like a shimmering treasure map. Nancy couldn’t wait to see what was in store for them next.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Carolyn Keene, Swiss Secrets