Murder on Ice

  Chapter

  One

  A LIGHT SNOW was falling from the overcast February sky as Nancy Drew steered her Mustang expertly along the twisting Vermont road. More snow meant even better skiing! Nancy’s blue eyes sparkled at the thought.

  Nancy, George Fayne, and Bess Marvin, her two best friends, were looking forward to a really fabulous ski trip. And having Ned Nickerson along would make the vacation just perfect.

  “Sorry you decided to come along?” Nancy asked Ned. “The only guy with three girls?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” George spoke up before Ned could answer. “Ned knows I’ll be hitting the slopes every minute I can, and Bess will have guys falling all over themselves to impress her. And there isn’t a mystery in sight! You and Ned will have plenty of time for snuggling by the fire.”

  “Really?” Nancy answered innocently. “I thought we were here for skiing.”

  “How would you like some snow down your neck?” Ned teased.

  “Hey,” interrupted Bess, “aren’t we looking for Webb Cove Road? You just passed it!”

  Nancy slowed the blue Mustang and made a careful three-point turn, her reddish blond hair bouncing as she turned her head to check the side-view mirror. She pulled onto the narrow road Bess indicated and proceeded smoothly through the snow. Soon a rustic sign appeared on the left: Webb Cove Road. “Okay, everybody, watch for the sign to the lodge,” Nancy said.

  Bess’s blue eyes met Nancy’s in the rearview mirror, and she shook her blond head. “I’ve heard about snow blindness, but it looks like Nancy’s got a bad case of Ned blindness. Pay attention, Nan, and you won’t miss any more turns.”

  “Hah! Look who’s talking about boy blindness!” dark-haired George retorted. She and Bess were cousins, but they couldn’t have been more different. George, a top athlete, was shy with boys. Bess’s favorite sports were shopping and men, not necessarily in that order.

  “Okay,” Ned exclaimed as Nancy steered around a curve and heavy stone gateposts loomed before them. “This is the place. Webb Cove Lodge!”

  Nancy swung through the open gates and pulled up before a heavy, dark red door. The lodge was long and low, snuggled into a fold of the hill. Its peaked roof looked vaguely alpine, and the overcast skies made the weathered boards seem very dark—like something out of a ghost story, Nancy thought. Then she smiled to herself, realizing that she was automatically seeing things as mysterious!

  She parked the car in a small lot and she and her friends piled out.

  “All right! The sun’s out!” George cried happily. She and Nancy took their skis off the roof carrier and pulled boots out of the backseat. Bess and Ned would have to rent ski equipment. “Let’s get checked in and hit the slopes fast!” George said enthusiastically.

  As Nancy and the others stepped into the lodge’s cozy office, lugging bags and skis, a sturdy, cheerful young woman in jeans and a plaid wool shirt looked up from behind the registration desk. “Welcome to Webb Cove,” she said. “You must be the group from River Heights. Come on in. Which one of you is Nancy Drew? Since you made the reservations, you might as well sign in for everybody.”

  Bess read over Nancy’s shoulder as she filled in the registration form. “Name, address, phone and credit card numbers, license plate number . . . hey, you forgot to fill in the blank for occupation. Put down, ‘Nancy Drew, Notorious Girl Detective’!”

  “Knock it off,” Nancy muttered. She hated it when Bess said things like that in front of people she didn’t know. Nancy was always modest, even though her detective work had earned her an international reputation.

  Nancy left the occupation line blank. “Here you are,” she said, handing the registration form back to the woman behind the desk. “Nancy Drew, George Fayne, Bess Marvin, and Ned Nickerson, all present and accounted for.”

  “Thanks. I’m Liz Whitcomb. I run this place. Best way I know to make a living and still be a ski bum.” Liz grinned. “Leave your skis and boots in the entryway. I’ll show you to your bunks.

  “I’m afraid we don’t have porters or the rest of the fancy trimmings you’d have if you stayed up the road at the Overlook—the big resort hotel. But then, most people don’t bring many clothes along,” she added dryly, watching Bess struggle with her two suitcases. “By the way, if any of you need to rent skis from us, you’d better do it quickly. We have a lot of guests this week so we’re short on rentals.”

  Liz led Nancy and her friends through a large, wood-paneled sitting room. Comfortable sofas covered in red wool plaid were gathered around a big stone fireplace. Sheepskin rugs dotted the slate floors, and sports magazines were piled haphazardly on the tables. At one end of the room, swinging doors led to what sounded like the kitchen. Liz led them through a rustic door at the opposite end of the room that opened onto a corridor.

  “As you probably know, this place is dormitory-style,” she explained. “Most of our guests are college students and hostelers from overseas. The guys’ room is on the left, gals’ on the right.

  “The ski area, Big Birch, is on the other side of the mountain. An old chair lift will take you to the top. You can connect into the main trails easily there. The schedules for meals and ski classes with our resident instructor are posted in the dorms.”

  Ned nodded. “The lodge has its own ski instructor?” he asked.

  “Not always. Instructors come and go. But we have a good one right now—Luke Ericsen. He showed up a few weeks ago, looking for work. He’s a ski bum like me,” Liz said, laughing, “and a fantastic athlete and teacher.”

  She opened the door to the women’s bunk room. “Here you are, girls. You’ll be able to tell which bunks aren’t taken. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

  Ned taught the sleeve of Nancy’s down jacket. “See you on the slopes in a little while, okay? I have to see about renting skis.” He waved to the others and followed Liz toward the men’s bunk room.

  The girls’ room was simple but attractive, even if it wasn’t, as George remarked, fancy enough to suit Bess’s taste. The bunks were built of dark-stained wood and covered with comforters in bright patchwork patterns.

  Nancy dropped her suitcase onto the bunk by the back window and sat down beside it, yawning. “Whew! Driving in that snow really tired me out.”

  “I could go for a nap by the fire in the lounge. If only I had somebody cute to curl up with,” Bess added wistfully.

  Her friends grinned. “Bess, a couple of days from now you’ll have boys falling at your feet, just as George said,” Nancy reassured her.

  “Who wants to wait?” Bess said with a sigh. “It’s easy for you to talk, Nancy. Your tall-dark-and-handsome’s here with you.”

  “Face it, Bess, you have a one-track mind,” George told her bluntly. “Nancy’d have a good time even if Ned weren’t here. Nancy,” she added significantly, “likes skiing. A little exercise wouldn’t hurt you any.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Bess groaned. “I went on a pizza binge last week. I’ll probably look like a blimp in my new stretch pants!”

  Nancy and George exchanged amused glances. “Maybe you should hunt up that ski instructor,” Nancy suggested. “What was his name? Luke something?”

  “Ericsen,” Bess said promptly.

  “Did you take notes, Bess?” George asked, giggling.

  Bess grinned. “No, but a handsome ski instructor isn’t such a bad idea.” She began brushing her long blond hair. “Although he’d probably be more interested in a skiing ace like George.”

  “For all we know, the guy’s middle-aged and has a wife and sixteen kids,” George returned, blushing.

  Bess gestured for quiet, and they heard a deep voice in the next room.

  “Hear that?” Bess’s eyes sparkled. “Boys. Hmmm
. . . I think I’ll wear my new blue ski sweater.”

  “Happy hunting!” Nancy exclaimed. “I’m going skiing!” She zipped up her jacket, grabbed her mittens, and tramped out the door.

  Liz was sitting behind the registration desk as Nancy passed the open door to the office. She rose so quickly that Nancy realized Liz had been waiting for her. “May I speak to you a minute?” she asked quietly. “In private.”

  “Of course,” Nancy said. She stepped into Liz’s office. To her surprise, Liz closed the door, then locked it. She turned to Nancy, her face serious.

  “Is it true, what your friend said? You’re a detective?”

  Nancy nodded. “Yes. Why?”

  Liz didn’t answer at once. A draft of cold air sliced through the cracks around the windows. Something—a tree branch, probably—scratched against the windowpane. It was a faint sound, but Liz jumped as if it were a thunderclap. She whirled around, her face drained of color.

  “Liz,” Nancy cried, “what is it? There’s nothing there.”

  “I know,” Liz answered shakily. “I guess it was just a tree branch.”

  “But that’s not what frightened you, is it? Please tell me,” Nancy urged gently.

  Liz swallowed and forced a smile. “Look at me, jumping out of my skin like that! A week ago, I’d have said I was never afraid of anything.”

  “But now you are afraid. Has something happened?”

  Liz looked nervously at Nancy. “It started last week,” she began. “I came down here to get something in the middle of the night, and I saw a face staring through that window. It was a monster’s face—no body, no nose or mouth—a face that could scare you to death!”

  Chapter

  Two

  WHAT?” NANCY EXCLAIMED. “How could that be?”

  “Well,” Liz said, “that’s just the way it looked at first. The guy had his face pressed against the glass, so his features were all distorted. And he was probably wearing dark clothes, which was why he seemed to have no body.”

  “He?” Nancy asked. “How do you know it was a man?”

  Liz flushed. “Oh, his . . . his size,” she said uncomfortably. “It’s a high window.”

  Nancy frowned. Liz seemed terribly flustered. “Did you notice anything else about him?” she asked.

  “Yes. I could see that he had blue eyes and blond hair.”

  “You’re sure? You could tell that in the dark?”

  “Oh.” Liz cleared her throat. “Yes, well . . . pretty sure.”

  “All right. That should help me,” said Nancy.

  “But, Nancy,” Liz went on, sounding frightened, “he was trying to get inside!”

  Nancy felt a shiver run up her spine, but she made her voice matter-of-fact. “What did you do?”

  “I went straight to the back door,” Liz answered grimly. “By the time I unlocked it and opened it, there was no one outside! But there were ski tracks in the snow beneath the window, and nobody has any reason to be messing around that part of the yard on skis!”

  “Could it have been somebody from another lodge just checking the place out?” Nancy suggested.

  “In the middle of the night?” Liz sighed dramatically. “Nancy, I’m frightened. I don’t like the idea of somebody poking around here. Aside from the Overlook, which is about two miles away, at the bottom of the Big Birch chair lift, we’re very isolated here.”

  “It’s creepy, for sure,” Nancy said in a calm tone of voice, “but it doesn’t sound too dangerous. I mean, that guy didn’t actually do anything and he hasn’t come back . . . has he?”

  “That’s just it. He has!” Liz shot an apprehensive look toward the door. “Last night—late—I saw a figure skiing away from the lodge. And this morning, it looked to me like the lock to the kitchen door had been tampered with.

  “There’s something else, too. I’ve received two phone calls in the last three days asking for somebody named John. The first time, I said we had nobody here by that name, and the caller became very angry, almost violent-sounding. The next time, he hung up on me.”

  “Let’s go back to those ski tracks you found. Where did they come from?” Nancy asked. “Did you follow them?”

  “Yes,” replied Liz. “They came from the little trail that connects us with the Big Birch ski area and the Overlook Hotel. Those tracks had to have been made after the snowstorm stopped—and that was after two A.M.” Liz looked at Nancy. “You’re a detective, you tell me. What was somebody doing prowling around here at that time of night? I can’t think of any pleasant reason.”

  Nancy nodded soberly. If someone wanted to get inside Webb Cove Lodge, it would probably be fairly easy . . . and that meant danger!

  “I don’t scare easily,” Liz said, “but that face at the window was terrifying.”

  Nancy knew what was coming. “And you’re asking me to do some detecting for you.”

  “Yes!” Liz replied emphatically. “I want to hire you, but I want you to keep a low profile. I’m not going to the police unless I have to. Rumors about a prowler won’t do my lodge any good.”

  “This prowler doesn’t sound like a regular thief,” Nancy said slowly. “Liz, why do you think he was trying to get in here?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Liz answered. “If he just wanted to steal, the Overlook Hotel has a lot more guests, and richer ones. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, I’ll be glad to do what I can,” Nancy said.

  “Thank you very much.” Liz unlocked the door. “Now, go hit the slopes. After last night’s snowstorm, the skiing should be great.”

  Nancy stepped into the entryway where she and George had left their ski things. She buckled herself into her clunky ski boots, then grabbed her skis and poles and hurried outside into the dazzling sunlight.

  As she fumbled for her sun goggles, Nancy caught sight of a male figure in a blue ski suit silhouetted against the sun. I might as well get acquainted, Nancy decided, especially now that I’m supposed to be checking things out. She walked over to the guy and stood her skis in the snow. “Hi,” she said. “My name’s Nancy.”

  He turned to face her. He had blond hair and piercing blue eyes. “Hello,” he replied. “I’m Luke Ericsen, the ski instructor here.”

  “Oh,” Nancy exclaimed, “I’ve heard about you. Liz told me you’re very good.”

  “I am.”

  That brought the conversation to a crashing halt. Luke neither spoke again nor moved. You may be a good skier, Nancy thought, but you’re a real snob. She glanced back at the lodge, then toward the trail leading to the ski lift, hoping to catch sight of Ned.

  Nancy waited for several minutes, but Ned didn’t appear. Finally, she laid her skis on the snow and snapped her boots into them. “I guess I’ll head for the chair lift,” she declared, half to Luke, half to herself.

  “No!” the ski instructor barked. “I have to check it to make sure it’s working all right.”

  “Is something wrong with it?” Nancy asked.

  “No, but it’s my responsibility to check it each week and make sure it’s safe. You’ll have to wait until I’m done before you go skiing.”

  Nancy looked down at her skis and made a face. This guy was definitely a pain. “Isn’t there another lift around here? I’m dying to hit the slopes.”

  “There’s a rickety old rope tow I use when I’m checking the chair lift,” Luke admitted, gesturing toward a small clearing nearby. “But it’s a very steep trail and I’m hot letting anybody except an expert mess around on it.”

  “What makes you think I’m not an expert?” Nancy said hotly, but Luke turned away without answering.

  At that moment, Ned stepped out of the lodge. “Hey, Nancy,” he called, hurrying up to her. Then he turned to the ski instructor. “I’m Ned Nickerson,” he said with a smile. “Are you Luke Ericsen?”

  “That’s right,” Luke replied briefly.

  “I was planning to rent some equipment, but Liz told me you have an old pair of skis
and boots you’re looking to sell. If the boots fit me and I like the way the skis feel, I might be interested in buying them. How about letting me try them out for the day?”

  Luke just nodded and strode back into the lodge.

  Ned whistled. “Obviously a man of few words.”

  “The fewer the better, if you ask me,” Nancy answered. “Why don’t you go get the skis? I’ll meet you at the top of the mountain in half an hour.” She was determined to go skiing right away. She’d just take the old rope tow. She was a good skier. And after all, Luke was planning to take the rope tow himself.

  As Ned followed Luke into the lodge, Nancy picked up her poles and headed for the tow.

  She found the start button, pushed it, and watched the tow line begin to move smoothly up the mountain. Placing her skis in the faint tracks in the snow, Nancy grabbed the rope and let herself be pulled swiftly up, her skis sliding easily across the packed powder. It had been years since she’d been on a rope tow, and she’d forgotten that it was kind of fun skiing uphill. But it brought back another vague memory—of something not very pleasant. . . .

  All at once, Nancy saw a blue-suited skier farther up the slope, waving wildly. Smiling, Nancy lifted one hand off the tow rope and waved back. Bess should be here, she thought. Half an hour after we arrive, the boys are getting friendly!

  Then she frowned. It wasn’t a friendly wave. The man began skiing swiftly down the gorge. He executed a complicated maneuver, jerked to a stop, and shouted something frantically to Nancy.

  But what? He was too far away for her to make out what he was saying.

  All at once, Nancy realized what the feel of the rope tow reminded her of. The memory was from years ago, when she was a kid . . . ice skating, playing crack the whip, holding onto a chain of other skaters . . . then suddenly being whipped off that human rope, hard and fast. The wind stung Nancy’s face, and the sun goggles impeded her vision. She jerked one hand out of its mitten and pulled the goggles off. Then, squinting with concentration, she scanned every inch of the tow line that she could see and slid her cold fingers along the rope.