Murder On Ice (6 page)

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.

N
ANCY'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 exterior. 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.

Ned leaned toward Nancy. “Don't worry,” he whispered against her hair. “Bad ankle or not, the next time anyone tries any funny business on you, I'll be there.”

Nancy was shocked to discover how matter-of-factly they were both accepting that there would be a next time. But who would the victim be?

Nancy's troubled thoughts kept returning to Luke. He was so guarded about his past. And he'd lied about the damaged ski and the rope tow. Luke—was he the criminal or the target?

Face it, Nancy told herself. All I have so far is circumstantial evidence, but that evidence points to Luke Ericsen. Means, method,
opportunity. I don't know what the motive is yet, but I'm sure all I have to do is dig deeper and I'll figure it out.

Then, with horror, Nancy realized something else.
George—one of my best friends—may have fallen in love with a murderer.

I
'VE GOT TO
warn George about Luke, whether she wants to hear it or not!” Nancy exclaimed.

Ned nodded. “Even if Luke isn't responsible for what's happened to us, he's definitely involved in some way. And we know he's hiding something.”

“So's George! I'm sure of it,” Nancy said apprehensively. “I've got to find out what it is. Otherwise I may never get to the bottom of what's going on around here.”

Nancy's last words hung in the air ominously.

Ned looked at his watch. “You may still be able to catch her before she heads over to Big Birch.”

Nancy caught her breath. “Can you make it back to the lodge alone?”

“Yes,” Ned replied.

“Great!” And with that, Nancy took off running.

Nancy found George standing in front of the chair lift, snapped into her skis and ready to go. “Hey,” Nancy said casually, “how about a race this morning?”

“Sorry, I'm busy now.” George glanced at Luke, who was telling a few of the other guests about the schedule for ski lessons.

“George, I
have
to talk to you,” said Nancy. “You've been avoiding me ever since we got here. I know it's because of Luke, and it makes me feel just awful.”