Chapter Twenty-Three

"Oh my God!" The shocked cry was from the woman Joe had helped earlier. "Did that guy just fall to his death?"

No one replied, too stunned to even move. The helicopter paused for a long moment and slowly descended, as though searching for its departed passenger. After several minutes, it moved off.

"That was Edward Chan." Joe whipped around and stared at the person who had uttered the words. It was Emily Sturling. "That was Edward Chan!"

"What? How do you know?" Joe demanded.

"I saw him in the helicopter when it was closer. Now he's…dead!" Sturling suddenly went ashen under the bright sun, and she swayed and collapsed into Frank and Joe's arms. "I can't believe it."

Joe looked at his brother, the dread welling up. He hadn't gotten a good look at the passenger, but his worse suspicions were confirmed when Frank nodded tightly.

It took a while for Sturling to overcome her distress. She didn't pass out, but she seemed unaware of her surroundings. Joe briefly gazed around, noting that everyone seemed equally affected. Even Carole Lockman and Henry King appeared thunderstruck.

"What do we do now?" Joe asked Frank in a low voice. "Should we go look for him?"

Before Frank could reply, however, King spoke up. "I think we should head back. We have to tell the police what we saw and let them search for the body."

The group seemed to think this was a reasonable plan. The three detectives merely glanced at each other, but they raised no objections.

The trip back to the bus didn't seem to take as long as the outgoing one. Again, Joe found himself at the tail end of the group with Nancy and Frank. "You know," Nancy began thoughtfully after many minutes of silence, "John Honig told me he was going to accompany someone up to the mine site and that he'd meet us there."

"Right…so?" Joe asked, swatting away a whining mosquito from his ear.

"Maybe he was in the chopper with Chan."

Frank raised a brow. "Edward Chan did mention he had arranged for special transport to the mine site. I hadn't realized he was talking about a helicopter, but I suppose it makes sense. He would have needed to spend as much time as possible in the area, collecting samples and whatnot, before the investing bidding war began again. Going by helicopter would cut his travel time down significantly—and he'd be able to carry more equipment up to the site."

"We have to find out what happened up there," Nancy said determinedly. "And I think John Honig will know."

Frank nodded gravely. They continued following the twisting path that led to the road where their bus was waiting. Joe let the group get a little ahead of the three of them before turning to his brother and Nancy. "We haven't asked ourselves the most important question—do you think Edward Chan's fall was an accident?" he questioned.

Nancy turned a startled glance onto him. "You think he was murdered? Why do you ask that—because of Emily Sturling?"

"She obviously wanted him out of the way," Joe replied. "She even went so far as to send a few lackeys to put him in his place. Fortunately, Frank and I interrupted that little, uh, meeting."

"But would she resort to killing him?" Nancy pointed out. "That seems extreme."

"I don't know that it is," Frank murmured. "Her company, Gemsun, is in a lot of legal trouble right now—all because of the Prospectors of America. She confessed to us that she needs the revenue from this potential mine site to recoup her losses."

"So you think she orchestrated his fall from the helicopter?" Nancy wondered. "Hmmm. If John Honig was indeed on the chopper, could he be in cahoots with her?"

Frank nodded. "It's a possibility."

"All right, then," Nancy said. "We do really need to find John Honig."

They refrained from voicing further suspicions on the ride back to the resort. With Emily Sturling sitting so close, it would have been unduly reckless to speculate about her involvement. Since no one else was conversing, the return drive was silent except for the rumble of the bus engine and the occasional vehicle traveling in the opposite direction.

When they stepped down from the bus back at the resort, the three young people separated themselves from the others. "I saw John Honig drive himself here this morning," Nancy said softly as Joe led them into the lobby. "If he's in league with Sturling, he'll probably show up soon. I'm going to wait here, next to the entrance, for him."

Frank nodded. "If you don't mind the company, I'll stay with you."

Joe glanced between his brother and the girl detective. Nancy looked as though she was going to object, but apparently Frank's resolute expression convinced her she would have an uphill battle if she planned on disagreeing with him.

Joe bobbed his head, a scheme forming in his mind. "Good idea. You two stay here. I have other plans." Joe caught Nancy's blue eyes with his own. "By the way, Nancy, do you have your lock pick on you?"

"Yes," she said slowly.

"Can I borrow it for a bit?"

"I suppose." She frowned, reaching into her bag. After a few moments of poking around, she handed it to Joe. "You know, I don't understand how you two can be detectives and not have a lock pick."

Joe shrugged. "Must have misplaced mine."

Frank eyed him in a teasing manner. "Joe usually prefers the less subtle method of kicking the door in."

"Hey, it gets the job done," he said defensively. "But this time I don't want to attract that much attention to myself."

"What are you going to do?" Nancy questioned.

He smiled mysteriously. "Only something slightly illegal. I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't go anywhere."

o…o…o…O…o…o…o

Nancy and Frank took up position in the lobby to wait. Parched after having been in the sun all morning, both eagerly drank the waters provided by the passing waiters, and then they each decided to order the resort's signature juice drink. They sat in relative silence for a while, sipping occasionally, giving the illusion that they had few cares in the world. It was not exactly the comfortable silence of the previous night, but it wasn't terribly awkward either. Looking over the rim of her glass at Frank, Nancy finally decided to break the slight tension between them. "What kind of work does your father do, Frank?" she asked.

Frank, Nancy observed, had been carefully scrutinizing the people that drifted in and out of his line of view, but now he shifted his eyes to take her in. They had talked a bit on the plane ride the day before, mostly about Bayport and River Heights, their friends, and a few memorable cases. More than once Nancy had heard Frank mention his father wistfully and proudly, but he had never elaborated on his line of work. Nancy had guessed he was in law enforcement, and she was curious to see if her hunch was correct.

"He's a detective," Frank told her after a moment.

"Oh, yeah? On the force?"

Frank shook his head. "Private."

"Wow," Nancy murmured, impressed. "Are you and Joe being groomed to become his partners?"

"Hardy, Hardy, and Hardy?" he returned, rolling his R's comically. Nancy smiled at him. "Who knows?" he said vaguely. "What about you?"

"My dad's a lawyer, as I pointed out before. I've thought about law but, honestly, detective work is more appealing to me right now."

Frank was about to say something, but he noticed something over her shoulder. Nancy turned and watched as Carole Lockman shepherded the investors through the door of a nearby restaurant, causing a bit of a commotion with the waiters when she announced she needed to use the private room for a business meeting. "Uh-oh. That looks serious. I think I should listen in on that," Frank said to Nancy.

Nancy nodded. "I'll wait here in case John Honig shows. And, no, I won't go anywhere," she added when Frank opened his mouth again. She watched Frank disappear into the restaurant as she continued to nurse her drink, keeping a vigilant lookout. There was no sign of Honig. After fifteen minutes, Nancy was surprised to see Frank returning her way. As he joined her, she noted that he had his laptop under one arm. "That was fast," she commented. "What happened?"

Frank was frowning. "It seems things are kicking into high gear. Carole Lockman wants to sell the land today."

"Today? Why?"

"Something about another buyer wanting in." Frank's frown revealed he thought that statement an untruth. "Emily Sturling picked up where she left off last night, asking the others to buy into Gemsun, and the investors have until tonight to make their decision."

"Why the sudden rush?"

"If I had to guess, I would say the investigation into Edward Chan's death is the catalyst." He gazed at her and nodded. "I can see you're having the same thoughts as me. There's definitely something fishy going on." He sat down next to her and turned his computer on. He appeared to be searching for something on the Internet, but the glare of the sun off the screen prevented Nancy from having a closer look. All Nancy could see was that Frank seemed particularly interested in some satellite maps. After a while, he tipped the screen down, sighing heavily.

"I still haven't seen John Honig," Nancy reported.

"I don't think I'm all that surprised," Frank said. "Lockman told us that Honig had gotten in touch with her as soon as the helicopter landed. Apparently, he was on board with Edward Chan, and he went on to say that Chan's fall was accidental. He's on his way to talk to the authorities right now."

"Hmmm. I wish we could speak with him." She paused. "I agree with you. Something strange is going on. How did Sturling take the news?"

"Hard to tell. She still seems like she's in shock."

Nancy sighed deeply and set her drink down firmly. "What are we missing?" she wondered, to which Frank only shrugged. "You know, the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that Carole Lockman is somehow involved." She sat up a little taller. "Frank," she said urgently as a thought came to her, "may I use your computer while we wait for Joe?" Frank nodded and passed it to her. Nancy logged on to check her e-mail and was glad to find a new message from her father. She anxiously opened the missive, hoping he had looked into her request about Carole Lockman and her association with the Millers. After reading the brief note, she gasped and re-read it again.

"What's wrong, Nancy?" Frank questioned, concerned.

"I—I think we just caught a major break," Nancy murmured, moving her chair closer to Frank's. She glanced around, but couldn't see any of the investors in sight. "Remember how I was telling you how I got involved on this case? I was researching the finances of a development company in Chicago, and I was asked by one of the accused men to visit his sister, Daphne, in New York because she had received a threat."

"Which you decided was meant for Raya Alvarez," Frank put in.

"Right. I thought it was just coincidence that Daphne thought Raya was in trouble. But I think there's a connection between my case in Chicago and what's going on here."

"Well, spill it, Drew," Frank said, his voice just barely containing his anticipation. "Don't keep me in suspense."

"I wouldn't dare, Hardy," she replied solemnly, before grinning. "I had asked my dad to look into the Miller files—he's their lawyer. Daphne told me, before I left New York, that Carole Lockman works for the Millers. I was wondering if maybe Lockman was trying to sell Muyaxche under the table on behalf of the Millers and collect good on it." Frank nodded, following. "Well, it turns out the Millers did own Muyaxche, but Lockman actually bought it from them for a pretty penny. She wanted to branch out on her own and develop an ecological resort here in Mexico."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe she realized there were archeological findings on the land, which would have hampered her building plans. What's even more interesting is that between the time she bought it and now, the Millers have had some major legal troubles. The CEO, a friend of my father, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's not too long ago. The investigation has just now revealed that some people in the company were using Miller's memory loss to their advantage."

"You mean some money was being embezzled from under his nose?"

Nancy nodded. "It would seem that way. His sons later took over the company, but the tracks had been well covered. In fact, most of this wouldn't have been discovered if one of their buildings had not caught fire."

"What?" Frank demanded. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No," Nancy responded. "It was a building under construction, and no one was around at the late hour. At first everyone thought it had burned because of shoddy workmanship, but my father tells me that it was in fact arson, and that the Chicago PD have the arsonist in custody. It was someone who was protesting the redevelopment of that neighborhood."

"All interesting," Frank told her. "But—"

"—what does it have to do with our case?" Nancy finished. "Let me tell you. In my research, I stumbled across a proposal from an external contractor who—I thought—was charging way too much for their service. Well, I was right. My dad learned that the actual bid was nowhere near that high. He did some investigating and learned that Carole Lockman had been in charge of that venture."

"So she skimmed off the excess money and pocketed it."

Nancy adjusted the computer on her lap. "Allegedly. My father has the police going over the evidence, but no arrest warrant has been issued for her yet. There are a few bigger fish to fry at the moment—some employees had apparently been embezzling quite liberally for some time now—but Lockman is definitely in their sights."

"Hmmm. Does she know that she's a suspect?"

Nancy lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Perhaps. Maybe that's why she's desperate to sell Muyaxche. She hopes to collect the money and… I'd like to say she's trying to replace what she took, but it's more likely she needs the money to disappear."

Frank sat back and thought for a moment. "All right. I buy that." He ran a hand through his thick hair, ruffling his locks. "How long ago do you think she began embezzling?"

"Less than a few weeks, according to the records. Why do you ask?"

Frank straightened abruptly. "I remember Tessa Russo, our client, telling us she knew about the potential of gold on Muyaxche a month ago."

"A month ago? So Lockman started embezzling after she knew about the gold? That doesn't make sense. She should have been over the moon as soon as she realized she had hit it big." Nancy took a deep breath. "Why would she have needed to steal money? Is she really that greedy?"

Setting his glass down after taking a sip, Frank gave her a puzzled look. "That's a good question. She should have found it easy to borrow money from the bank."

"But instead she misappropriated funds from the Millers…" Nancy trailed off, her eyes sweeping over the sprawling lobby area. "Maybe to prepare Muyaxche for sale—for things like the chartered plane down here and the accommodations in this resort?"

"She does seem desperate to sell it," Frank told her. "You should have heard her just now."

"But why?" Nancy wondered.

"Did you see how anxious she was at the dig earlier?" Frank asked her. Nancy murmured her assent. "It's almost like she needs to get the land off her hands," he went on, his voice expressive. "Do you think there's something else on Muyaxche—some sort of undesirable feature that she's hiding from the investors?"

"Like something that would make the land unfit for sale?"

Frank looked at her with the unmistakable gleam of detective fervor. His grin was so infectious that Nancy found herself returning it. "That's an interesting possibility, don't you think?" After a moment, his smile faded slowly. "But we would need proof if we wanted to prevent tonight's takeover."

Nancy nodded, her mood also becoming more somber. "That means we have to get back to Muyaxche—before it's too late."