Murder On Ice (2 page)

“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.

Then Nancy caught her breath. Just beyond her reach she could see a spot that was definitely thinner than the rest of the rope. Several strands had parted and now, because of her weight, the rest of them were beginning to fray.

All right, thought Nancy, all I have to do is let go of the rope and stop moving. She loosened her grip.

But at that very moment, the rope broke with a sickening snap. The force whipped her through the air like a rag doll, throwing her toward a massive birch tree.

In a kaleidoscope of confused, blurred images, Nancy saw the frozen slope rise up to meet her.

The rest was darkness.

N
ANCY WAS SOMEPLACE
dark, cold, and lonely. The wind whistled, and a shower of ice stung her face as she struggled back to consciousness. She lay half buried in the drifts of snow.
Ned,
she thought achingly.

But Nancy wasn't alone. Gradually she realized that someone was bending over her, urging her to wake up. It was a man's voice, but it wasn't Ned's.

“Come on,
fight!”
Two hands shook her shoulders roughly. Nancy tried to wrench herself away, but the hands still held her. Then the voice spoke again, but it sounded different—concerned and anxious. “Open your eyes. Come on,” it said gently.

Nancy's eyelids felt as if they'd frozen
together. She was cold, so cold. She drew her breath in. Slowly, she forced her eyes open and looked toward the bright sky.

Between her face and the light was a dark blur that, as her vision cleared, became the face of an unfamiliar young man. It was a handsome face, with blue eyes the same color as his sleek ski suit and topped with a mop of curly blond hair.

“Are you all right?” asked the young man.

“I think so,” Nancy murmured. She moved her head tentatively, and it pounded painfully. Then a wave of nausea swept over her, and the blackness threatened to close in again.

Nancy wasn't completely unconscious, though, and she could dimly make out voices through the haze.

“ ‘Haven't seen you since the Broken Leg Café,” a second male voice was saying. Even in her stupor, Nancy was sure she knew that voice. After a few moments of confusion, she realized it belonged to Luke Ericsen, the ski instructor.

Nancy felt the stranger's grip on her shoulders slacken. Slowly, painfully, she opened her eyes just enough to peek through her lashes. Luke Ericsen was standing over her, looking directly at the stranger with the curly hair.

There was a queer expression on the stranger's face—more alarmed, even, than when he had looked at Nancy a moment ago. Then her vision blurred and once again she sank back into darkness.

The next thing Nancy felt was a cold, tingling
sensation on her face. Her eyes opened more easily this time. Luke was kneeling beside her, rubbing snow into her face.

Nancy jerked her head away to avoid the next dose. As she did so, pain exploded in starbursts behind her eyes.

“Don't move like that until you're sure nothing's broken,” Luke said sharply.

“I think I'm all right,” Nancy said weakly.

“Move your legs slowly, one at a time.”

Nancy moved her right one, then her left, and groaned.

“Hurts, doesn't it?” Luke said brusquely. “That's what you get for not listening to me.”

Nancy let Luke's comment pass. “Where did your friend go?” she asked.

There was a split second of silence. “What friend?” Luke asked blankly.

Too
blankly, Nancy decided. “The guy who saw the rope breaking and warned me,” Nancy said deliberately. Then another question occurred to her. The stranger had been farther up the slope, far enough away so that Nancy couldn't understand his words when he shouted to her. How could he
possibly
have seen the rope fraying from that distance?

There was another silence. Then Luke said, “There was nobody else here. You really must have hit your head hard.”

Her head was definitely throbbing. Nancy explored it with her fingers and found a bump—and agonizing pain. Could I have imagined that
man? she wondered. Then a shout broke into her thoughts.

“Nancy!”

Ned's familiar yell. Nancy sat up painfully to see Ned, George, and Bess running up the mountain toward her.

In another minute, Ned was by her side, his arms around her in a concerned hug. “Are you okay?” he demanded huskily.

“Mmmm,” Nancy murmured. “Luckily, I know that the best thing to do when you're falling is just to go limp. I only wish I hadn't hit my head in the process!”

“Good thing you knew what you were doing,” George said seriously.

“Knew what she was doing?” Luke cut in. “If your friend here really knew what she was doing, she wouldn't have been on that tow in the first place! I told her not to take it.”

“Oh.” George frowned slightly at Nancy. Then she turned to Luke and threw him a shy smile.

The young ski instructor glanced quickly at George. “I'm glad
you
understand what I'm talking about. Maybe you can talk some sense into your friend here.” He shot Nancy a disgusted look, as he hurriedly put on his skis. Then, abruptly, he turned and headed down the slope.

“Now, why is he going in that direction?” Nancy said thoughtfully, as Ned and George helped her to her feet. “I thought he had to check the chair lift. Maybe he's going after that other guy.”

“What other guy?” Bess asked.

Quickly, Nancy told her friends about the man who had warned her. “I don't care what Luke says,” she finished up. “There was someone else here, and he was the one who saved me.”

“Luke claimed there
wasn't
anyone else?” Ned asked thoughtfully.

“Right.” Nancy rubbed her head. Suddenly her hand froze. Her conversation with Liz came rushing back to her. . . . A stranger at the lodge, trying to get inside.

Suddenly alert, Nancy thought,
two
blond, blue-eyed strangers appearing out of nowhere at the lodge—that's just one coincidence too many for me. I'll lay odds that the stranger who scared Liz and the one who saved me are the same guy. But, Nancy realized, now I'm not sure if that stranger is someone to be afraid of.