“I get the picture. Dennis hasn’t forgiven C.J. for stealing his girlfriend,” Nancy said.
“Or his top-jock status,” Ned added.
The red-haired twins from Dennis’s frat shrugged uncomfortably. “Dennis is a great athlete,” said one of them. “But no reporter from Sports World ever wrote an article about him.”
He leaned back as the red-faced waiter placed two platters of fried chicken in front of them.
“All I know is, the Clues Challenge is the biggest blast of the winter,” Grant said, reaching for a couple of wings. “I’m not going to let Dennis wreck it for me.”
“I’ll second that!” George agreed.
For the next hour Nancy was too busy eating and talking to everyone about the Clues Challenge to think about Dennis. She and George met so many people, it was hard to keep them all straight. Nancy recalled meeting someone named Hanna from Joy’s sorority, as well as another Sigma Pi frat brother—a guy named Malik, who had dark skin and braids.
People floated from table to table, and the room echoed with teasing challenges about who would win. By the time dinner was finished, Jake and Philip had migrated to the far side of the room, and Dede, C.J., and Randy had joined Nancy, George, Ned, and Grant at their table.
“Can I get some quiet, please?” Mel Lorenzo called. He had floated from table to table while everyone ate. Now, he stood next to Joy’s table and tapped a glass with a spoon.
Nancy noticed Dennis behind him, at the end of the hallway to the main dining room. He was leaning against the brick wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
“I’ll keep the motivational speech short,” Mr. Lorenzo said. “I hope you all ate a lot, because you’re going to need every ounce of muscle power and brain power you have during the next two days.
“Remember, the challenge runs from sunup to sundown tomorrow and Sunday,” he went on. “We meet at the foot of the bell tower tomorrow morning at sunrise. I blow the whistle precisely at five-thirty. That’s when you race for the first clue, at the top of the tower. Just to remind you, all the clues will be inside containers like this one.”
He held up a plastic snowflake container about four inches in diameter. Its two plastic halves were hinged together.
Mr. Lorenzo put the container back on the table, then stepped to the side as the waiters came into the room with custardlike desserts.
“Man, oh, man. That looks good,” Mr. Lorenzo said, eyeing the dessert. “Just a few more things. First, all searching for clues must be done outside. If there’s a clue on a building …”
“Is there?” called out one of Dennis’s teammates, the guy with braids who was named Malik.
Mr. Lorenzo shook his head. “You know I can’t answer that. Like I said, if there’s a clue on or near a building,” he said, resuming his speech, “you have to get to it without going inside the building.
“Second, searching the campus for clues is off-limits from sundown till sunup. Any team that doesn’t abide by that rule will be disqualified,” Mr. Lorenzo went on. “Third, the Clues Challenge HQ is in the lobby of the Sports Complex. That’s where I’ll be with all the equipment. And last but not least … Good luck!”
Nancy clapped along with everyone else. “Mmm,” she said as the waiter placed the serving bowl on their table. “That does look good. What is it?”
“Tiramisu,” the waiter announced in an uninterested voice. “Italian cake soaked in espresso, with custard and powdered coffee on top.”
As he passed out dessert plates, everyone grabbed one—except Randy. He hadn’t even turned back to the table until the waiter plunked a plate down in front of him.
“I, uh, think I’ve got enough material for today,” Randy said, reaching out to shake C.J.’s hand. “See you tomorrow morning at five-thirty.”
C.J. waved and gave him the thumbs-up, but he seemed relieved to see the reporter go.
“It’s good to get publicity,” C.J. said. “But I’ll be glad to have my privacy back after Randy’s done with the article.”
“He’s a little pushy,” Ned commented, grabbing the serving spoon for the tiramisu. He was about to dig into the dessert but paused with the spoon in midair. “What’s that white powder mixed in with the coffee?” he asked. “Sugar?”
Nancy took a second look at the tiramisu, then frowned. “The coffee powder is dusted on in a perfectly even layer,” she said. “But the white stuff is in clumpy little bits. It’s like someone just dumped it on.”
“Check it out,” George said, leaning back in her chair to look at the next table. “Their tiramisu doesn’t have white stuff on it.”
“These look like bits of pills,” Nancy said. “See the round edges on some of them.” She looked for their waiter, but he was already halfway back to the kitchen. “Maybe we should ask someone in the kitchen about this,” she said.
“I’ll go with you.” Ned grabbed the dessert, and he and Nancy followed the waiter.
As they entered the hallway, Nancy glanced into the alcove where the telephone and rest rooms were.
“Hey!” She stopped short, staring at some spots of white powder on the burgundy carpet beneath the pay phone. “Do you see what I see?”
Ned dropped to his knees and fingered the powdery bits. “It’s just like the stuff on our tiramisu,” he said. “But … what is it?”
“Hmm.” Nancy’s eyes flew around the alcove—until something on the small shelf beneath the phone caught her attention. “Pills!” she gasped.
There on the shelf were half a dozen white tablets. Some had been partially crushed into powdery bits that were identical to the ones on their dessert.
“Some kind of medication?” Ned guessed.
Nancy scooped the pills into her hand, frowning. “If it is,” she said, “someone spiked our dessert.”
3
Deadly Medicine
Nancy felt a knot twist deep in her stomach. “Someone wants to make us sick so we can’t compete in the Clues Challenge,” she said.
“But …” Ned blinked in confusion. “People from different teams were mixed up at all the tables,” he said. “How could anyone make sure only people from another team would eat the spiked tiramisu?”
