Mystery at the Ski Jump (3 page)

As the girls left, George exclaimed, “Whew, that was close! I thought you were going to have to tell him about Mrs. Channing and I knew you didn’t want to yet.”

“No, not until I have some proof she’s dishonest.” There was a thoughtful frown between Nancy’s brows. “I wish I could figure out what happened to my license.”

“You don’t suppose someone stole it, do you?” Bess asked as she slid in behind the steering wheel.

“I can’t decide,” Nancy admitted. “In the first place, that license isn’t worth a thing to anybody but me. So why would it attract a thief? And why would he want my identification cards?”

“Maybe the thief was looking for money and took the other things by mistake,” George suggested. “Did you have much money in your wallet?”

“No, just an emergency five dollars,” said Nancy. “I have another purse that I carry silver and bills in. That wasn’t tampered with.”

“Well, we can put our heads together at lunch,” said Bess. “You’re both invited to my house. And, girls, I promise chicken pie and angel cake.”

The food was delicious, but what interested Nancy even more was a message for her from Bess’s father. Hearing of the case, Mr. Marvin had telephoned his broker in New York and learned that no such organization as the Forest Fur Company was listed among legitimate stock companies.

“Poor Hannah!” thought Nancy, deciding to redouble her efforts to find Mrs. Channing.

That afternoon Nancy, Bess, and George stopped at Dr. Britt’s office and picked up the list Miss Compton had prepared. It contained the names of several patients who had bought furs or stock from the mysterious Mrs. Channing.

“I think Mrs. Clifton Packer would be a good one,” decided Nancy. “She’s a wealthy widow and bought several hundred shares of stock in the Forest Fur Company.”

“Then, Mrs. Packer, here we come,” George said with a grin. “Step on it, chauffeur,” she commanded, tapping her cousin Bess on the shoulder. “But for goodness sake—don’t speed!”

The Packer house was a large stone one that looked more like a French chateau than an American residence. A maid, clad in a black uniform and a starched cap and apron, answered the doorbell. She ushered the three girls into the entrance hall.

Mrs. Packer was a stout, talkative woman. She knew Nancy by reputation and was plainly curious as to the purpose of the young detective’s call.

“Don’t tell me I have a mystery here at Oak Manor, Nancy?” she began as soon as the three girls were seated in her luxurious living room.

“Perhaps you have, Mrs. Packer.” Nancy smiled. She hastily sketched her reasons for suspecting Mrs. R. I. Channing and her questionable sales activity.

“Why, I’m astounded—simply astounded!” gasped the plump widow. “Mrs. Channing appeared so charming. Such a lady.”

“I understand she sold you some furs,” prompted Nancy.

“Oh, she did. She did indeed,” babbled Mrs. Packer. “And then, of course, there is that block of stock I bought. I paid her a thousand dollars for that.”

Bess and George exchanged startled glances.

“Did Mrs. Channing give you any information about this fur company?” Nancy asked. “Where it’s located, for instance?”

“I don’t think so,” admitted Mrs. Packer. “I just remember her saying they have mink ranches throughout the United States and Canada. That’s why I thought the stock was all right. Good mink, you know, is very scarce. And very expensive.”

“But suppose the stock you bought is worthless,” said Nancy, and told what Mr. Marvin had learned.

“Oh dear! I suppose I was foolish,” Mrs. Packer admitted. “But it was the lovely mink furs Mrs. Channing showed that convinced me. You see, I’m quite an authority on pelts.

“Come up to my bedroom, girls,” the widow invited, leading the way. “I’ll show you what I bought. All mink, you know, isn’t equally fine. There are four different grades. The best fur comes from the northern United States and Canada. It’s the cold weather that makes it lustrous and triply thick.”

Mrs. Packer opened a closet and removed a luxurious mink cape. “The minute Mrs. Channing showed this to me I knew I had to have it,” she rattled on. “Notice the rich dark-brown color and how alive and silky the fur is!

“That shows the cape was made from young mink. In older animals, the fur is much coarser and the pelts are larger, too. A sure indication that you have a less valuable piece of merchandise.”

George winked at Nancy. They were surely getting Mrs. Channing’s sales talk secondhand!

Bess giggled. “Young mink, old mink—who cares?” she said. “I’d settle for any kind of a mink coat.”

They went back to the living room. Mrs. Packer rang a bell and her maid, Hilda, a woman of thirty, appeared. She was asked to serve tea. After the maid had left, their hostess dimpled coyly.

“I just love tea parties, don’t you?” Evidently she was not too concerned about her missing thousand dollars. “Hilda makes the most divine little cakes. I served them when I had the party for Mrs. Channing.”

“What!” George burst out, then added apologetically, “I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Packer explained that she had held a party for Mrs. Channing to introduce certain friends who were always “looking for bargains in clothes.” The friends had purchased both furs and stock. Nancy was about to ask their names when the woman abruptly changed the subject.

“Now that you’re here, Nancy Drew, I want to consult you about the disappearance of my favorite earrings.”

Nancy looked doubtful. “I don’t know, Mrs. Packer. I’m pretty busy just now. Perhaps you just misplaced the earrings.”

“Of course I didn’t,” her hostess protested. “I always put everything back in my jewel case the minute I take it off. Besides, I was very careful of those earrings. They’re part of a valuable set.

“See, I’m wearing the brooch that matches them. Nancy, how would it be if you take this with you, so you can trace the earrings for me?” the widow continued, removing the pin and handing it to Nancy.

Despite the fact that the young detective had one mystery to solve and was to help her father on another, she found herself saying, just as Hilda walked in with the tea tray:

“I’ll do what I can, Mrs. Packer. When did you first miss your jewelry?”

As the woman pondered the question, Nancy saw Hilda stop short. The maid placed the tray on top of the piano and hastened back to the kitchen, as if she had forgotten something. Perhaps the napkins, Nancy thought, but she immediately noticed them protruding over the corner of the tray. Did Hilda’s action have anything to do with the conversation?

“Do you remember when you missed your jewelry?” Nancy prompted Mrs. Packer, who seemingly had not noticed the strange procedure.

“Oh, yes, now I remember,” the woman said, her hands fluttering in agitation. “It was the day after that party.”

George shot a glance toward Nancy, but let the young detective do the talking.

“Do you know of anybody at the party who might have wanted the earrings?” Nancy asked.

Hilda hastened back from the kitchen, picked up the tray, and approached her mistress. The maid was pale and nervous.

“No, unless it was—Why, Nancy, do you think it could have been Mrs. Channing, the woman you said sold me the fake fur stock?”

At Mrs. Packer’s words an agonized wail burst from Hilda. She went chalk white.

“O-oh!” she cried.

Nancy looked up just in time to see the tray tilt precariously in the maid’s hands. Hilda clutched at the dishes, but too late. The tray slipped from her grasp!

The top of the teapot fell off and a cascade of hot water poured down upon the arm of Hilda’s startled mistress. With it the cups and saucers clattered to the sofa.

Hilda, with a terrified scream, turned and ran from the room.

“OH! I’m burned!” Mrs. Packer cried out. She jumped up and shook her wet sleeve. “Such stupid clumsiness!” she sputtered, seizing a napkin and swabbing her arm.

“Girls,” she went on, “did you notice how Hilda jumped when I spoke of my stolen earrings ? It’s plain the girl knows something. Why, she may have taken them herself!”

“She certainly acted strangely,” George agreed.

“Yes—and while we’ve been talking, she’s escaped!” Bess added excitedly.

“Hilda looks like an honest person,” said Nancy, coming to the girl’s defense. “I think she’s only worried or scared. Mrs. Packer, do you mind if I look for your maid?”

“Go right ahead,” the widow replied. “But I think I should call the police.”

“Wait a little, please,” Nancy urged. “And tell me, are there any other servants in the house?”

“No,” said Mrs. Packer. “My butler and cook took the afternoon off. If Hilda hasn’t run away already, she’s probably in her room. That’s on the third floor. The second door to the left.”

Nancy found Hilda’s bedroom door tightly closed. But she knew by the sound of hysterical sobbing that the maid was inside. She knocked softly.

“Hilda, let me in,” she called. “Don’t be afraid. I just want to help you.”

“Go ’way,” said a muffled voice. “Mrs. Packer—she’ll fire me! She thinks I’m a thief!”

“No. I want to talk to you, Hilda,” pleaded Nancy. “I’m your friend. Won’t you listen to me, please?”

The sympathy in Nancy’s voice must have convinced the nervous young woman, for she opened the door. “I was packing my suitcase,” she admitted, dabbing at her reddened eyes with a handkerchief. “Oh, Miss Drew, I’ve been such a fool!”

“We’re all foolish now and then,” Nancy said soothingly. She led the maid gently to the bed and sat down beside her. “Hilda, why don’t you tell me about it?” she suggested.

Ten minutes later Nancy and a subdued and calmer Hilda rejoined the others in the living room. Nancy’s blue eyes twinkled as she addressed her hostess.

“Mrs. Packer, Hilda hasn’t committed any crime. Her only mistake was that she did exactly as you did!”

“What do you mean?”

“Simply this,” explained Nancy. “Hilda heard Mrs. Channing tell you about the stock in the Forest Fur Company and how it would make you a lot of money. When she saw you buy some of it, Hilda decided to do the same thing.”

“Ja,”
said Hilda, bobbing her white-blond head. “That’s just what I did. I think what’s good for a smart lady like Mrs. Packer is good for me.”

Mrs. Packer’s grim face softened. “Why, Hilda,” she said, “in a way, that’s a compliment.”

“Of course it is,” said Nancy. “Hilda feels doubly bad because the money she used was the twenty-five dollars she borrowed on her salary to send to her family in Europe.”

“Never mind,” her mistress said gently. “I’ll see that you don’t lose by this, Hilda. Suppose you get busy now and clear away those broken cups and saucers.”

Nancy and her friends left, the valuable brooch pinned on the young detective’s blouse. She promised to try finding the earrings as soon as possible.

“I’m glad poor Hilda didn’t lose her money and her job,” said Bess as the three girls drove to Nancy’s house. “I think Mrs. Packer was to blame, anyway.”

“We didn’t get much further in tracking down Mrs. Channing,” George remarked.

“No,” said Nancy. “But I believe we’ve advanced a bit. We’d nearly forgotten Mr. Channing. I’m sure that he’s a part of our puzzle.”

“And what a puzzle!” Bess sighed as she drove into the Drew garage. She and George walked home.

Togo, Nancy’s alert little terrier, was waiting for her when Nancy stepped into the house. The little fellow scampered joyfully ahead of her as she climbed the stairs and went into her father’s deserted study. Togo cocked his head. He was hoping his mistress was going to play a game with him.

“I love this room, Togo,” Nancy confided to him. “It makes me feel so close to Dad. Let’s pretend he’s here, shall we?” She sat down in the big leather chair and held out her arms to the eager dog.

“You sit right here—on my lap—Togo. That’s it. Now we’ll hold our conference.

“First of all, I know what Dad would advise. He’d say: ‘Use your head, daughter! You can’t just chase after this Mrs. Channing as if she were a butterfly. You must outsmart her!’

“Hm-m, that’s right,” Nancy mused. “Probably Mrs. Channing has exhausted her prospects in River Heights. This means she has moved into new territory. But where? Got any suggestions, Togo? Speak up, boy!”

At the word “speak” the little terrier gave a sharp bark. “Oh, I see.” Nancy grinned. “You advise that we try one town in each direction from here. If Mrs. Channing has been seen in any of these places, we’ll know whether she has headed north, south, east, or west. And a very good idea it is.”

Nancy heaved a sigh of relief and set Togo on the floor. “Okay. Conference is over,” she announced. “Now we’ll go and see about dinner, partner.”

Nancy spent the evening at the telephone. First, she followed up the rest of the names on Miss Compton’s list. No information of value came of this.

Next, she called several out-of-town physicians who were friends of Dr. Britt. To her satisfaction, she found that three had been visited by Mr. and Mrs. Channing. Later the physicians called her back to say certain patients of theirs had been approached by the couple but only one woman had bought furs and stock. Three others, more cautious, had turned down the proposition. One of those, a saleswoman herself, had considered notifying the Better Business Bureau, but had not done so.

Before retiring, Nancy wrote a letter to the Motor Vehicle Department advising them of her lost license. She hoped it would not be too long before a replacement was sent.

When Bess and George arrived the next morning, Nancy greeted them with, “We’re going to Masonville.... Why? Because it’s north of here.”

“Hypers! Nancy, it’s too early in the day for riddles,” George complained.

Nancy smiled mysteriously, then said all of Mrs. Channing’s victims to the west, south, and east of River Heights had been called upon at least a month before.