Murder on Ice, Page 4

  Six

  GIVE ME THAT!” Luke said sharply. He snatched the ski from Nancy’s hand and examined the binding in silence. “This screw hole wasn’t shaved down,” he said finally. “It wore down. That’s why the screw came out. It could happen at any time.”

  Luke seemed calmer, but his hands still trembled. He paused and inhaled deeply. “Ned, I’m terribly sorry. I haven’t used these skis lately. I should have inspected them before I lent them to you.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Ned said after a moment. “Let’s just forget it, all right?”

  Nancy took the ski back from Luke. “It can happen at any time?” she asked skeptically. She wondered why Luke, who was such a fanatic about safety, hadn’t inspected his equipment before lending it to somebody.

  “On gear that gets hard use, yes.” Luke stepped to Ned’s side. “We’d better get you inside and lying down.” He helped Ned hobble into the lodge and over to the couch in front of the fire. Nancy followed them, frowning and thinking that Luke was showing an awful lot of concern.

  “It may be just a sprain—but if the swelling doesn’t go down by morning, I’m going to drive you to the hospital to get an X ray,” Liz told Ned. “I’ll bring you an ice pack,” she added, heading for the kitchen.

  Nancy followed her. When they were alone, Nancy asked, “Liz, have you ever heard of a binding coming loose and leaving a hole like that?”

  “It’s possible. But it’s definitely not common!” Liz’s eyes narrowed. “You really think somebody deliberately tried to kill Ned? Who would have a motive for doing that?”

  “You have had a prowler,” Nancy pointed out. “Somebody looking in windows and writing MURDERER in the snow. None of that’s very rational.”

  Nancy swallowed hard. Then suddenly she burst out, “Wait a minute! Those were Luke’s skis!”

  “Luke’s skis,” Liz repeated. “And he gave them to Ned.” She paled. “Do you think he’s to blame for Ned’s accident?”

  “An awful lot of accidents seem to happen around Luke,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “These skis. The tow rope. It’s just that . . .”

  “What?” Liz demanded.

  “Someone else could have seen Luke’s skis and not realized that Ned would be using them. Same thing with the rope tow. The traps could have been set for Luke, not by him!” Frustrated, Nancy paced around the room. “I need a good motive, or even better, some useful evidence.”

  “This is really turning into a nightmare,” Liz said, shuddering dramatically.

  “Just stay calm,” Nancy cautioned. “And let’s keep this conversation between the two of us, okay?” She gave Liz’s hand a squeeze and then hurried back out to Ned.

  Nancy hadn’t planned on a quiet afternoon with Ned, but she decided that the idea suited her just fine. However, they didn’t spend it by the fire. With the aid of a pair of crutches that Liz kept on hand for such emergencies, Ned was able to limp out to the small lake beside the lodge. It was cleared for skating, and that’s just what Nancy did. Ned sat and watched from a wooden bench, his leg propped up on a log.

  Nancy was an excellent skater, and she found the rhythm of the sport soothing. She was glad to have a chance to mull over what had been happening. Writing didn’t just appear in the snow, and bindings on skis didn’t just wear down! As Luke well knows, Nancy told herself. Somebody had deliberately sabotaged those skis!

  The problem was, who? And why? And who was the intended victim? Liz had jumped to the conclusion that Luke had done it. Maybe he had, maybe not. Even if he hadn’t, he apparently knew or suspected the answers to those questions. What exactly was he trying to cover up?

  Much as Nancy loved solving mysteries, this one was causing some trouble.

  She felt—lonely. The case had already come between her and George. And she could see it creating problems between her and Ned. Who’s next? she wondered. Will Bess get angry at me? She skated over to sit with Ned for a while.

  They returned to the lodge as the shadows started falling. Keeping his leg up all afternoon had done Ned’s ankle good. The swelling had gone down a bit. As the aromas of chili and baking apples wafted into the lounge from the kitchen, the other guests began straggling in from the slopes.

  Bess and Gunther appeared first. “We heard about your ankle, Ned. How are you feeling?” Bess said. “You missed some great skiing!” she called as she headed toward the dorm.

  “You say that like a confirmed athlete!” Ned called back, grinning. Bess stuck her tongue out at him before disappearing. A group of college students appeared next and then, last of all, Luke and George.

  Luke went directly upstairs without speaking to Nancy or Ned, but George came over to them right away. “How’s the ankle?” she asked. Nancy noted that George’s voice sounded strained.

  “Hanging in there,” Ned said lightly.

  Nancy smiled at George. “How was the skiing?”

  For a moment, George’s eyes were radiant. “Oh, I had a great time!” she replied. Then her smile stiffened, and the light faded from her eyes. “Well, I’d better get ready for dinner.” As she left the lounge, Nancy watched her thoughtfully.

  Luke joined the guests for dinner that night, but he took a seat at the far end of the table near Liz. Ned hobbled over to the closer end, on his crutches, and Nancy, Bess, and Gunther joined him.

  Soon, George returned. She had changed into dark red stretch pants and a Norwegian sweater, adding small gold earrings. She looked, Nancy thought, absolutely gorgeous. George hesitated for a moment, looking the table over, and then sat with Luke.

  Luke didn’t act like his usual aloof self at dinner. He actually relaxed and smiled, talking with George, the two of them in their own private world. They even joined the others after dinner, toasting marshmallows around the fire.

  “How’s the ankle doing?” Luke asked Ned.

  “Pretty good. I guess it’ll be okay by baseball season.” He smiled and went on, trying to sound casual. “We’ve sure had a lot of accidents lately. Whatever happened to that old towline?”

  “I threw it out,” Luke replied shortly. He looked as if he was about to get up and leave, until he caught George’s eye. “Not much skiing, I guess, where you come from?”

  “Nope,” Ned answered.

  “How about your hometown, Luke?” Nancy put in. “Lots of skiing there?”

  Luke’s face tightened. He looked as if he was quite alarmed, but was trying not to appear so. “Little town in Maine,” he said, and immediately turned back to Ned. “Do any competitive skiing?”

  Ned shook his head. “If I had, would this have happened?” He laughed. “After this accident, I guess it’s obvious that I’m no Olympic star.”

  Suddenly Luke seemed very, very uncomfortable. He tried to laugh with Ned, but the sound that came out of his throat was more like a croak. Nancy glanced at George and realized with a shock that George wasn’t smiling, either.

  Ned hit a nerve, Nancy thought. I’d better follow it up. “Is that something you’d like to do, Luke?” she asked. “Ski in the Olympics?”

  “No,” Luke replied shortly.

  “Why not?” Nancy asked casually. “You’re quite a skier.”

  “Luke’s a pro.” George cut Nancy off abruptly. “He wouldn’t be eligible, remember?”

  By now Gunther and Bess were looking at them strangely. Nancy signaled Bess with her eyes, and Bess jumped into the awkward pause with a giggle.

  “What are we playing here, Twenty Questions?” she asked. Deliberately, she steered the conversation back to Nancy’s line of questioning. “What competitive sports are you interested in?”

  “I’m not. Competition can be destructive if people care too much—or if they don’t know what they’re doing.” Luke looked straight at Nancy. “You shouldn’t go taking risks. Mountains have no mercy.”

  Nancy narrowed her eyes. “Some risks are worth taking . . . as long as they don’t endanger other people.”

  Luke’s fair skin flushed dar
k red. “One kind of sport I don’t like is answering nosy questions. Excuse me.” And with that, he stormed off.

  As soon as he was out of the room, George jumped up. “For once in your life, can’t you be something other than Nancy Drew, girl detective? Do you always have to go poking into people’s private lives?”

  “George—”

  “Just forget it!” George cried. Then she stalked off after Luke.

  Ned whistled. “I hope that risk was worth taking.”

  “It better be.” Nancy’s eyes followed George. “I hope I didn’t hurt her too much.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” Bess said. She ran after George and Luke.

  It wasn’t until bedtime that Nancy met Bess in the dorm room and was able to ask her what had happened.

  “Shh.” Bess glanced significantly toward the door. “These walls are paper-thin,” she whispered. “I could hear George and Luke from out in the hall, but all I could make out were a few words. Luke said, ‘police,’ and then ‘investigation . . . broken leg.’ ”

  “Broken leg.” Nancy frowned. “They couldn’t have been talking about Ned. I’m sure Luke broke his leg once, and badly, because of the stiffness in his one when he skis. But what do the police and an investigation have to do with that? . . . Wait—broken leg!” Nancy exclaimed suddenly. “Bess, have you ever heard of the Broken Leg Café?”

  Bess just stared at Nancy. “The what?”

  “Haven’t seen you since the Broken Leg Café’!” Nancy quoted. “That’s what Luke said to the man who rescued me yesterday!”

  Bess shook her head confusedly. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “We know one thing,” Nancy said. “Luke talks to George in private about things he doesn’t want the rest of us to hear.”

  At that moment, George walked in. She looked bemused, as though she’d just been kissed. But she did not look happy. She undressed and climbed into her bunk without a word. Bess and Nancy silently followed her example.

  But long after all the others in the room were sleeping soundly, Nancy lay awake, arms locked behind her head, thinking. Finally she slid out from beneath the covers, put on her warm bathrobe, and tiptoed out to the lounge.

  The fire had died down, but red embers still glowed in the darkness. Nancy lay down on the couch and stared at the coals, her thoughts tangled.

  Suddenly she heard sounds overhead. A door opened somewhere, then closed. Footsteps quietly approached the head of the stairs, then started down cautiously.

  Nancy gripped the arm of the couch. Its high back would conceal her, but it also blocked her own view.

  Someone, heard but unseen, was moving across the room toward the front door. The door creaked open and then there was silence. Nancy got up and crept to the window.

  Moonlight, reflecting off the snow, showed a figure crouching on the porch. A small pool of light from a flashlight illuminated a pair of shiny skis. They were Luke’s skis, the ones Ned had worn earlier.

  The flashlight beam jerked upward for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Nancy to see the figure’s face—Luke’s face. He was checking out the skis he had insisted so emphatically had been worn down. And while looks might not kill, there was murder in his eyes.

  Chapter

  Seven

  NANCY’S HEART SKIPPED a beat. What was Luke doing with those skis in the middle of the night? She had to know. Despite the fact that she was wearing only her bathrobe, she tiptoed to the door. Without a sound her fingers turned the knob. Then all at once, she yanked the door open.

  Luke sprang up, the ski and the flashlight clattering to the porch floor. Even without the light, there was no mistaking the panic in Luke’s eyes. He snatched the flashlight up again and shined it full in Nancy’s face.

  “You!” he hissed. “What are you doing sneaking around?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Nancy retorted. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to sit by the fireplace for a while. The next thing I knew, somebody was prowling around out here. I thought I’d better check it out.”

  “You aren’t afraid of anything, are you?” Luke said with grudging respect. He forced a soft laugh. “We must be having an insomnia epidemic around here. I couldn’t sleep either, so I figured I might as well work on my skis.”

  “So why were you tiptoeing around out here like a thief?” Nancy asked.

  “Look who’s talking,” Luke countered.

  Nancy ignored his sarcasm. “Think you can fix them?”

  “Why not? It takes more than a missing screw to ruin a good pair of racers.”

  Nancy sat down on the porch bench. “You don’t mind if I watch you work, do you?”

  Luke stood the ski back against the wall. “No. But I’ve changed my mind. The light’s not good enough to work out here. And I don’t want to wake the guests by working inside. By the way, don’t go spreading around stories about your boyfriend’s accident. You’ll start a panic among the snow bunnies.” Luke opened the door and pointedly waited for Nancy to go in first.

  Nancy murmured a good night and went straight to the dorm. Whatever Luke was up to, he wasn’t going to finish it that night.

  Late as it had been when she fell asleep, Nancy woke very early. The other girls in the room were still sleeping soundly as she slipped on her black ski pants.

  The sky was gray and the woods looked bleak as Nancy let herself out onto the porch. The skis still leaned against the wall, exactly as Luke had placed them a few hours before. Nancy picked up the defective one and, holding the ski so that the early morning light hit it, examined it carefully.

  Everything about the binding seemed normal except for the missing screw. The hole was definitely larger than the others, but now Nancy noticed something else, too. She could see knife marks, and traces of a grayish substance in the hole.

  Nancy pulled her Swiss army knife from her coat pocket and pried some of the gray stuff out with her knife blade. She rolled it between her fingers. It was soft and malleable, like non-hardening putty or children’s modeling clay.

  And somebody, Nancy thought grimly, had deliberately put the clay there after enlarging the hole and then stuck the screw in it, so that it would pop out under the stress of skiing. Some accident! Just like my “accident”!

  Nancy stood the skis carefully back in place and went inside. As she had hoped, Liz was now awake and working in the kitchen. Nancy greeted her, then turned immediately to the problem at hand.

  “Liz, what happened to the rope Luke removed from the tow after I fell?” Nancy didn’t mention that Luke had said he’d thrown it away.

  “It’s out back in the shed with the emergency generator,” Liz replied. “You can go in if you want to. The door’s unlocked.”

  The shed was a small building half hidden by a rise of ground. Nancy stepped in and flicked on the light. The generator was purring away quietly in a corner. On the floor were several large coils of rope. Then Nancy saw a smaller one. She could tell by the markings on it that it was the old rope from the tow.

  Nancy felt all along the rope. At the end, her fingers stiffened. It had been cut three-quarters of the way through. The rest of the rope was frayed, as though a break had been carefully, maliciously arranged.

  Suddenly a voice spoke from behind Nancy. “Don’t you ever mind your own business?” It was Luke.

  “Why did you lie to me about the rope?” Nancy demanded.

  “Because Liz insisted we keep it, and it isn’t safe to use! Now, listen, little Miss Detective—”

  “Liz said I could come out here,” Nancy cut in.

  “Maybe she did. But I’m the one she’ll hold responsible if any more accidents happen. This place is off limits to lodge guests.” Luke took the rope from Nancy. Then, to her surprise, he smiled. “Anyway, breakfast’s ready. Liz made apple pancakes with sour cream. And your boyfriend’s looking for you.”

  It was so odd. Sometimes Nancy actually thought there was a nice guy underneath Luke’s nasty ext
erior. She left the shed quickly and went in to breakfast. But she sneaked back afterward with Ned. She simply made sure that Luke wasn’t around.

  They went by a circuitous route, partly to find the easiest going for Ned’s crutches, partly to avoid running into anyone. But when they reached the shed, Nancy stopped short in dismay. “Oh, no!” In the short time since she’d left before breakfast, the door had been padlocked.

  “Now what?” Ned wanted to know.

  Nancy laughed. “Easy. I’ll pick the lock.” Once again, she pulled out her Swiss army knife. She began removing the screws that held the door latch in place. “This wasn’t here an hour and a half ago,” she commented. “Luke must have installed it.”

  “Or Liz,” Ned suggested softly. “Even if she did say it was okay to come and look.”

  Nancy nodded. “I know. I have only Liz’s word about the prowler and the phone calls.”

  Ned blinked. “Do you really think Liz is behind all this?”

  “Stranger things have happened. Maybe she’d cash in on a lot of insurance money if this place went out of business. Who knows?” Nancy remembered what Liz had said the day they arrived—that she was just a ski bum. “She seems so nervous sometimes. On the other hand, maybe she’s just the hysterical type.”

  The door latch came off in Nancy’s hand. Inside, the generator still hummed quietly, but the coils of rope were gone.

  Nancy and Ned searched every corner, but found nothing. At last they gave up. They left the shed, and Nancy screwed the door latch and padlock back in place.

  “Okay,” Nancy said as they headed for the lake, “it’s pretty clear that none of these ‘accidents’ has been accidental. But the question is, why? I haven’t come up with a good motive.”

  “I have,” Ned said quietly. “Maybe someone is afraid of Nancy Drew, detective. Someone who, as the writing in the snow said, is a murderer. . . .”

  Their eyes met. Nancy was more shaken than she wanted Ned to see. His theory was very possible. After all, the first “accident” had happened to her. Anyone could have heard Bess telling Liz that she was a sleuth.