Mystery at the Ski Jump (2 page)

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Authors: Carolyn Keene

Tags: #Women Detectives, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Girls & Women, #Mystery & Detective, #Juvenile Fiction, #Adventure and Adventurers, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Fiction, #Fur Garments, #Mystery Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #Adventure Stories, #Hides and Skins, #Swindlers and Swindling, #Drew; Nancy (Fictitious Character), #General, #Identity Theft, #Mystery and Detective Stories

BOOK: Mystery at the Ski Jump
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“Where is this woman staying?” Nancy asked.
“Why, I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.”
At that moment Nancy heard the front door close and the sound of her father’s firm footsteps in the hall. She put her arm about Hannah’s shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze.
“Don’t worry. I’ll run down and talk this over with Dad,” she assured the housekeeper. “Perhaps he knows the Forest Fur Company.”
“Hello, dear.” Tall, handsome Carson Drew met his daughter at the bottom step and kissed her. “Do I detect a worried look in those pretty blue eyes?”
“Well, something’s on my mind,” Nancy admitted. She told her father about Mrs. Channing and the Forest Fur Company.
“I’ve never heard of the firm,” the lawyer remarked when she finished. “But I certainly don’t like the way they do business. No reliable company would peddle expensive furs and stock from door to door at bargain prices. Please ask Hannah to let me see her certificate.”
After reading it, he admitted it looked all right, but added that he thought the company should be investigated.
“Mrs. Channing must still be at Mrs. Martin’s,” Nancy said excitedly. “Suppose I go over there and talk to her.”
“Fine.” Carson Drew nodded. “I’ll join you. We can’t let our Hannah be taken in by swindlers.”
The Martin home was only two blocks away. As the Drews reached it, Nancy noticed that Mrs. Channing’s car was gone. She dashed up the broken porch steps and rang the bell hurriedly. The door swung open.
“Mrs. Martin,” Nancy asked, “has Mrs. Channing left already?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Martin’s eyes blazed. “To put it bluntly, Nancy, Mrs. Channing ran out on me. When I brought that tea she asked for, she was gone. And her car too! And not one word did she say about paying for the damage she did to my porch!”
“What’s her address?” Nancy asked quickly.
Mrs. Martin looked startled. “I don’t know!”
CHAPTER II
A Serious Loss
MRS. MARTIN invited Nancy and her father into the house and offered them chairs before the crackling blaze in the fireplace.
“I suppose I’ll never find Mrs. R. I. Channing,” she sputtered. “But that Forest Fur Company will pay for repairing my porch! Don’t you think they should, Mr. Drew?”
“That depends on whether or not Mrs. Channing was using a car of theirs, or at least was doing business for them at the time of the accident. Suppose you tell us everything you know about this woman.”
Before Mrs. Martin could start, they heard the sound of heavy feet on the porch stamping off snow. This was followed by the sound of the door buzzer. The caller was Dr. Britt, tired and cold after his long drive through the storm. When he learned that the accident victim had left in such a rude way, the physician was indignant.
“I don’t blame you for being angry, Mrs. Martin,” he agreed, stepping into the living room. “Anyone as ungrateful as Mrs. Channing doesn’t deserve sympathy. Good evening, Mr. Drew. Hello, Nancy.”
Mrs. Martin indicated a fourth chair facing the fire. “You sit here and rest, Doctor,” she urged. “I was just going to tell what I know about Mrs. Channing.
“She came here two days ago and sold me a mink boa and some stock in a fur company. She promised that the stock would make me a great deal of money. But now I don’t trust her. You know what I think? That she ran away from here because of you, Nancy.”
“What!”
“Before I went to get the tea,” Mrs. Martin explained, “I told her how many cases you had solved yourself—not just for your father. Like
The Clue of the Black Keys
and
The Secret of the Wooden Lady.
Now that I think of it, I believe Mrs. Channing got scared and left. We’ll never find her.”
“Mrs. Channing also sold a mink stole and some stock to our housekeeper, Hannah Gruen,” Nancy volunteered. “That’s why I came back here.”
Dr. Britt looked thoughtful.
“Channing-Channing!”
he murmured. “I thought that name sounded familiar. Now I remember. My nurse, Ida Compton, showed me a fur piece and a certificate for stock she had purchased from a woman named Channing.”
“This is very interesting,” Mr. Drew spoke up. “Nancy, why don’t you see Miss Compton and find out if she can give you some additional information about Mrs. Channing?”
“I certainly will, Dad. But by the time we get back from Montreal—”
“I’d suggest that you stay here a couple of days and see what you can find out,” the lawyer said. “You can follow me later.”
He arose, adding that Hannah Gruen probably was becoming uneasy over their absence. She would want to know what they had learned about Mrs. Channing.
“And the delicious dinner I smelled will be spoiled,” Nancy said, smiling.
“Let me drive you,” the doctor offered. “Fortunately the storm is dying down. It should be fair by morning.”
When the Drews arrived home, Mrs. Gruen met them with questioning eyes. They told her the truth but begged her not to worry about the fur-company stock.
“It may be a good investment,” the lawyer said cheerfully, although he doubted it. “And now, how about some food? This is the best eating place in the country, Hannah.”
The housekeeper beamed. “Tonight it’s pot roast and big browned potatoes exactly as you like them.”
“Dessert?”
“Your favorite pie. Apple with lots of cinnamon.” Mrs. Gruen turned to Nancy. “Bess Marvin phoned. She’s coming over after dinner. And George—I never can get used to a girl with a boy’s name—will be here too.”
“Grand!” said Nancy. “The three of us will hold a farewell party for you, Dad.”
Bess and her cousin George Fayne arrived at eight o’clock. Clad in boots and ski pants, they were in the highest spirits in spite of the cold. George, a trim-looking girl with short, black hair and an athletic swing to her shoulders, was the first through the door.
“Hypers! Isn’t this storm something?” she exclaimed. “Old Man Winter is certainly doing his best to blow our town off the map.” She panted. “One more big puff and I’d probably have landed on top a church steeple.”
Bess giggled. “That would be something—you flapping about like a weather vane!”
“Bet I could point in all directions at once,” George retorted.
“Well, I’d rather stay inside,” said Bess, blond and pretty. “Maybe we can make some fudge,” she added hopefully. Bess loved sweets and worried little about her weight.
“I’m afraid there won’t be time for fudge,” said Nancy. “The fact is, I have some work for both of you.”
“Nancy! You don’t mean you’re on the trail of another mystery?” George asked eagerly.
“Could be,” Nancy answered, her eyes twinkling. Quickly she briefed her friends about Mrs. R. I. Channing and her questionable method of selling stock and furs.
“I’ve just been examining the stock certificate she gave Hannah,” the young detective went on. “It gives the headquarters of the Forest Fur Company as Dunstan Lake, Vermont. But, girls, I’ve looked in the atlas and there’s no such place as Dunstan Lake, Vermont.”
“Too small, maybe,” George suggested.
“Dad has a directory published by the Post Office Department,” Nancy went on. “It’s not in there, either.”
“Then it must be a phony outfit!” Bess declared.
“Perhaps,” Nancy agreed. “Anyway, I must find that Mrs. Channing as soon as possible.”
“We’ll help you search,” George said eagerly. “Just give the orders!”
“Okay.” Nancy grinned. “Suppose you two call all the garages in town and see if anyone brought in a long black car with damaged front fenders. Meanwhile, I’ll use the private phone in Dad’s study and call the local inns and motels to see if a Mrs. Channing is registered.”
When the girls met again twenty minutes later, all of them reported complete failure. Because of the weather, Bess and George were sure Mrs. Channing could not have driven far. She probably had stayed with a friend.
“Unless she registered at a hotel under another name,” Nancy mused.
Mr. Drew joined them in a farewell snack, then kissed Nancy good night. He told her he would be gone before the three girls were awake, then asked:
“What’s your next move?”
“To call on Ida Compton.”
The next morning was crisp and sunny. Giant snowplows, working all night, had effectively cleared the highways. At ten o’clock the three girls were seated in Nancy’s sleek convertible, on their way to consult the nurse. Nancy pulled up at Dr. Britt’s office.
After hearing the story, Miss Compton was eager to cooperate. She explained that a few days previously, a tall, muscular man of about forty and his wife had called to see the doctor. They had given their names as Mr. and Mrs. R. I. Channing.
While they waited to see the doctor, the nurse had expressed her admiration for the mink stole Mrs. Channing wore. To her surprise, the woman had removed the fur and offered to sell it cheap. She had also suggested Miss Compton buy a block of Forest Fur Company stock.
“Mrs. Channing doesn’t miss a trick, does she?” George remarked. “Always on the lookout for clients!”
“Mrs. Channing seemed pleasant and honest.” The nurse sighed. “Are you sure she isn’t?”
“Well, I haven’t proved anything yet,” Nancy admitted. “But Mrs. Channing’s methods are very strange, and I couldn’t locate Dunstan Lake.”
Miss Compton said she never left the office when strangers were in it. But at Mr. Channing’s request she had gone to make a cup of tea because his wife felt faint.
“I’m afraid the tea business was just an excuse,” Nancy said. “Those two wanted you out of here for some special reason. But why?”
The young detective’s glance passed swiftly about the room and came to rest on a steel cabinet. “Of course!” she exclaimed. “The Channings wanted to look in the file. They hoped to get names and addresses of persons they might sell to.”
“I guess that’s true, Nancy,” the nurse admitted. “Because as soon as Mrs. Channing drank the tea and I handed her a check for the stole and the stock, she said they couldn’t wait to see the doctor and hurried away.”
“Miss Compton, will you do me a favor?” Nancy asked. “Call a few of the doctor’s patients on the telephone right now. Ask if a Mrs. Channing—or at least a dark-haired woman—has called on them, offering to sell them stock or furs.”
She had no sooner made her request than the nurse began to dial a number. Within a few minutes Nancy learned that several patients had made purchases from a smooth-talking woman named Mrs. Channing. Nancy spoke to each one but picked up no further information.
“I think we had better be on our way,” she said finally. “I don’t want to take any more of your time, Miss Compton. But if you will continue to check the people in those files, we can stop in later for the list. Somewhere there’s bound to be a person who can give us a real clue.”
“Where do we go from here?” George asked as the three friends got into the convertible.
“I don’t know,” said Nancy. “It’s too near lunchtime to make any calls and—girls!”
Nancy’s voice was excited as she bent over the steering wheel and stared down the street. “There! Just crossing the intersection in that car,” she gasped. “I believe it’s Mrs. Channing!”
As soon as the light changed, Nancy turned left to follow the black car. She trailed it down the side street a block, then onto a highway that led to open country. All at once the girls’ heard the warning wail of a siren. A police car drew up alongside the convertible. The driver waved Nancy to the curb.
“Where do you think you’re going in such a hurry?” the officer demanded.
“Oh!” Nancy flushed. “I’m sorry if I was going too fast. You see, I was trying to catch another car.”
The policeman ignored her apology. “Let’s see your driver’s license.”
“Certainly, Officer.”
Nancy reached for the wallet in her inner coat pocket. She snapped open a flap and suddenly her face was the picture of dismay.
Her driver’s license and all her other identification cards were gone!
CHAPTER III
Missing Earrings
“Now, young lady, I suppose you’re going to tell me you lost your driver’s license?”
The policeman’s tone was skeptical as he looked at Nancy. The man was a stranger to her, which was unusual, since Nancy knew most of the local police and all were her friends.
“Oh dear! This is certainly a disaster!” wailed Bess. “Now we can’t catch that awful Mrs. Channing.”
George spoke up. “Officer, this is Nancy Drew,” she said. “We’re after a thief. Please let us go.”
The policeman stared. “You’re what? Listen, miss, if that’s the case, there are two reasons for my taking you to headquarters. Suppose you tell the chief your story.” He directed Nancy to follow him.
Chief of Police McGinnis was surprised to see Nancy. He listened while she explained her predicament of being without a license.
“I just can’t figure out what happened to it,” she continued. “I know I had it in my wallet yesterday.”
“I’m aware you have a driver’s license, Nancy,” the chief assured her. “That’s why I’m going to be lenient in your case. You’ve helped the police department on so many occasions that it’s almost as if you were a member of the force.”
At this remark the traffic policeman’s jaw dropped.
“Oh, thank you, Chief McGinnis,” Nancy said gratefully. “I’ll make application for a duplicate license at once.”
“Good.” The officer nodded. “But remember, young lady, keep your car in the garage until that new license arrives.”
“Chief, I have a driver’s license,” Bess interrupted. “See—it’s right here in my handbag. I can drive Nancy’s car for her.”
“You girls!” Chief McGinnis laughed. “You don’t miss a trick, do you? Yes, Miss Marvin, I suppose you can act as chauffeur. And now what’s this about a thief? Are you up to something we police don’t know about?”
Nancy’s eyes were teasing as she answered, “I’ll let you know the instant I find out.”

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