Free Sinister Paradise by Carolyn Keene Page B

moon-faced man appeared, wiping his hands on a paper towel. He crumpled it into a ball, lobbed it into the trash can, and moved toward the Kahala .
    At that moment a brunette in a swimsuit approached from the other direction.
    â€œGeorge!” Bess gasped, standing at Nancy’s elbow.
    â€œI told her not to take chances,” Nancy said in a worried voice.
    As George approached the man, Nancy fretted. It was too late to warn her friend away now. . . .
    â€œExcuse me. Are you looking for somebody?” George asked, her hands on her hips.
    The man produced a battered wallet. “Yeah, you might say that.” He flipped it open, revealing a laminated card. “I’m a private eye. I’m looking for Nancy Drew. You live around here?”
    â€œYes, I live here.” Deadpan, George gestured at a big motor sailer at the end of the pier. “Lived here two years. Never heard of a Nancy Drew.”
    â€œMaybe you’ve seen her around, then.” He put away his ID. “Tall girl. Reddish blond hair. Lives aboard that boat there.”
    â€œThe Kahala?” George feigned a look of confusion.“That’s Mrs. Faulkner’s boat. Are you sure you’re at the right marina?”
    Nonplussed, the man pressed on. “Maybe you’ve seen Nancy’s friends around. A blond girl. Couple of guys named Ned and George.”
    Nancy sucked in her breath sharply.
    Mischief gleamed in George’s eyes. “Hmmmm, maybe I have seen George around. What a hunk! He plays football for Oklahoma State.” She grinned. “Want me to pass on any messages?”
    â€œAh, thanks—but no.” Looking very worried, the man retreated across the parking lot. “I got to get back to work. See you!”
    George watched him dash across the street and climb into the driver’s seat of an older-model car. Tires squealed as he pulled away from the curb. George smiled and made a circle with her thumb and forefinger.
    Nancy and Bess hurried out to greet her.
    â€œIf you want to find him, his license number is HWI zero-two-eight,” George said, beaming.
    â€œNice work, George.” Nancy hugged her friend. Then the three of them headed back to the boat.
    Bess and George decided to return little Jason’s rubber ball. While they were gone, Nancy, on impulse, flagged a cab and headed uptown. She had a few things she wanted to clear up before she looked for the moon-faced man. She had to learn more about the Malihini Corporation.Why did they operate out of a post office box? Why had they incorporated in the Cayman Islands? Once she was able to answer those questions, she hoped she’d be able to figure out what they wanted with Lisa Trumbull.
    And Nancy had a good idea who to ask. . . .
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    Jack Showalter was on the phone when Nancy arrived. Flashing a welcoming smile, he gestured at the guest chair beside his desk.
    â€œYes, well, those interest payments are due, Mr. Gavalu.” Jack made an apologetic motion with his free hand. “I understand. Yes. Nice talking to you, sir. Goodbye!” Hanging up, he let out a low groan. “What a day!”
    â€œWho were you talking to?” Nancy asked curiously.
    Jack flushed self-consciously. “The deputy finance minister of Kiribati. But he’s not the high-priority item around here these days. Lisa Trumbull is. How are you making out?”
    â€œJack, have you ever heard of the Malihini Corporation?”
    â€œWho hasn’t? They’re knocking the legs out from under this bank.”
    â€œHave you ever run into them?”
    â€œJust once. I put together a nice little loan package a few months ago. I even got old man Rafferty to approve it. Then the Malihini Corporation came out of nowhere, stole my clients, andblew me out of the water!” Scowling at the memory, he added, “Why are you so interested in them?”
    â€œI did some checking with the