The Case of the Artful Crime Read Free

excused himself just as Nancy and her father’s meals arrived.
    â€œWow! This salmon is great,” Nancy said, sampling her lunch. “How is your burrito?”
    â€œDelicious,” Carson replied. “I’m glad we can spend this time together now, since I won’t be seeing much of you for a while.”
    â€œSure you will,” Nancy said, smiling. “This case won’t take long.”
    â€œThe last time you said that, you were on the case for weeks,” he reminded her.
    Nancy laughed. “I remember. But that case looked a lot simpler than it was. This one is pretty straightforward.”
    â€œFamous last words,” Carson said with a chuckle. For the next twenty minutes, Nancy and her father ate their lunch and chatted happily. With both of them so involved in their work, they often dashed past one another in the hallway of their home, exchanging just a quick hug and brief words. Nancy was glad they had this time to talk.
    Glancing across the restaurant, Nancy noticed that the man with the yellow tie was about to taste his lunch. “Dad, do you think that guy really is Harold—” Nancy cut herself off the minute she saw the expression on the man’s face. Something was wrong—very wrong. His eyes watered, and a crimson flush swept up over his cheeks.
    Clutching his throat with one hand, the man grabbed the edge of the table with the other and pulled himself to his feet. His eyes streamed with tears. He opened his mouth to speak, but was unable to utter a sound.

2
Trapped!
    Nancy and her father leaped up from their seats. “Dad, I think he’s choking!” Nancy cried.
    In seconds the two of them were across the room. A low murmur spread through the restaurant as all eyes turned toward the gasping, red-faced man.
    A petite woman who had been dining at a nearby table rushed to the man’s side. “I’m Dr. Hordell,” she told him. “Where is the pain?”
    The man collapsed into a chair, his forehead drenched with sweat. A waiter rushed over with a glass of water, which the man gulped. When he was done, he pointed at the fish on his plate.
    â€œThat!” he gasped. “The fish!”
    Picking up the man’s plate, Nancy examined the heavily herbed fillet served on a bed of yellow rice. Gingerly, she sniffed it. Almost instantly, her sinuses tingled and she jerked her head away.
    â€œSee what I mean?” said the man, starting to regain his voice and composure.
    â€œMay I have that, please?” Shawn requested, coming up beside Nancy.
    â€œThere’s some very powerful spice in that fish,” Nancy warned, handing him the plate.
    As Shawn sniffed, a frown creased his brow. He took a clean fork and flipped the fish over. “How on earth?” he muttered. Under the fillet was a layer of bright green paste.
    â€œI don’t even keep this stuff in my kitchen,” he said. “It’s wasabi. It’s used exclusively in Japanese cooking, and I don’t offer any Japanese dishes at the Arizona House. Someone must have snuck the wasabi in and added it after I prepared the fish.”
    â€œBut it is edible,” Nancy said.
    â€œYes, but it’s so hot that most people eat just the tiniest dab at a time. This poor gentleman got a mouthful when he ate his fish.”
    â€œI’m sure it was extremely unpleasant,” Dr. Hordell said. She turned to the man. “Keep sipping water. Eventually the burning will pass.”
    â€œUnpleasant! It was much more than unpleasant!” the red-faced man boomed, mopping his brow with a linen napkin. His enunciation reminded Nancy of an actor’s perfect speech.
    â€œWasabi is powerful stuff,” Shawn agreed. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, sir.”
    Just then, Bess rushed over. “What happened? Oh, Mr. Brackett, are you okay?”
    The man’s eyes darted back and forth. “What did you call me?”
    Bess blushed.