Free Recipe for Murder by Carolyn Keene

from which it hung being so exposed before.
    Carefully setting her dish on the counter, Nancy said, “I really think mine’s overcooked.”
    The wrought-iron rack above her head was still swaying a little, and it made her nervous. Glancingup, she said, “Is this thing safe? I don’t remember it—”
    She never finished her sentence. There was a sudden, terrible screech from above.
    Nancy’s heart seemed to stop beating. With a last wrench the rack tore loose from the ceiling and plummeted straight for her head!

Chapter

Eleven
    N ANCY DIVED OUT of the way, hitting the floor just as the heavy rack crashed against the counter. Tiles splintered, and pans flew everywhere. Somebody screamed. Then a huge iron skillet slammed into Nancy’s arm, numbing it from shoulder to elbow.
    â€œNancy!” Ned’s voice was full of horror. He bent over her, his hands trembling when they touched her.
    Jacques Bonet was also kneeling beside her. “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.
    â€œNancy, don’t move,” Ned said. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
    â€œNo, I—think I’m okay.” Nancy’s voice was shaky. She cleared her throat, testing every muscle-as she slowly sat up. Only her arm throbbed. “Really. I’m okay.”
    Nancy tested her arm. “It’s not broken,” she said with relief. “But I’m going to have one doozy of a bruise.”
    â€œI am canceling class for the rest of the day,” Jacques said. Then he turned to Nancy. “Could I talk to you a moment?” His face was dark and set.
    â€œSure.”
    As soon as the last student had passed through the door, Jacques said, “Nancy, I haven’t been totally honest with you. I think I know why these accidents have been happening.”
    â€œWhy?”
    He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if he was reluctant to speak his mind. Finally he sighed and said, “I think the accidents are Claude’s fault.”
    Nancy blinked. “Claude’s fault? How can that be?”
    â€œI didn’t want to believe it. I still don’t. But it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
    â€œIt doesn’t make sense to me,” Ned put in.
    Bonet ignored him. “Claude’s reputation as a chef has been declining in recent years. He’s slowly losing his edge. To be truthful, I’vebeen covering for his mistakes whenever I could.”
    There was silence for a moment. “But why would Claude sabotage his own school?” Nancy asked.
    â€œTo satisfy a wounded ego?” Jacques suggested.
    â€œI can’t believe that. He was horrified at the bad publicity. He even blamed me,” Nancy reminded him.
    Jacques expression was pained. “He’s blamed me for things beyond my control as well. He hinted that I had engineered the loss of the Washington dinner.”
    â€œOh, no.”
    â€œIf these accidents don’t stop, someone else will either be hurt or killed. What do you suggest we do, Nancy?” Jacques asked.
    Nancy shook her head. She couldn’t really believe what Jacques was saying. Claude DuPres was still a world-renowned chef. Although he was excitable, he hardly seemed like an egomaniac—certainly not in the way Jacques described him. But who knew DuPres better than Jacques? No one.
    â€œPaul Slesak still has a stronger motive,” Nancy argued. “If the accidents at the school make the board of directors lose faith in Claude DuPres, it paves the way for Slesak to take over.”
    â€œClaude would never stand for it,” Jacques said. “And Paul knows that.”
    The coldness of Jacques’s tone led Nancy to believe he was no fan of Paul Slesak’s, either. “None of this makes sense,” she said with a sigh. “And none of it seems a strong enough motive for murder.”
    â€œWho’s talking about murder?” Jacques demanded.
    Ned took a step