Trail of Lies

by Carolyn Keene

  “It’s been years since you’ve seen him,” Nancy pointed out. “He might have changed.”

  Carson shook his head. “Some things don’t change. If Henry has a fault, it’s that he’s too trusting of other people. I could believe he was swindled by some fast-talking person, but I don’t believe he’s involved in anything illegal.”

  “It’s just that he had the opportunity,” Nancy said, swallowing a forkful of eggs. “That’s what the police think, and I’ve got to examine all the possibilities.”

  “I agree that Henry had opportunity,” Carson replied. “But what about motive? You need both.”

  “Money,” Nancy said simply. “There’s a lot of money at stake.”

  “But Mr. Wilcox is a millionaire,” George protested. “You told me that.”

  “His shipping company is very profitable,” Carson put in.

  “Even the best of businesses can start losing money,” Nancy pointed out. “And when they do, the owners may get desperate enough to do something illegal.”

  “That’s all speculation, Nancy,” her father told her. “There’s no proof.”

  “I know.” Nancy nibbled at a biscuit.

  “So what’s next?” George asked.

  “I’m going to the shipyard,” Nancy answered.

  Her father reached into his pocket and handed her a set of car keys. “Henry left one of his cars for you to use. Just be careful.”

  Nancy smiled. “You know I always am.” She rose from the table, wiping her lips with her napkin. “If you two will excuse me, I think it’s time I got started.”

  Nancy pulled on her parka and walked briskly to the garage. She took a quick look at a map she found in the glove compartment and then headed into Anchorage.

  The morning was clear, and Nancy marveled again at the beauty of the terrain. The sky was streaked with the red of early dawn, those last few minutes before the sun rose.

  She glanced at her watch. Nine-thirty. She looked at it again, wondering if it was suddenly running fast. It couldn’t be that late, she thought, not with the sun still rising. Then she laughed. This was Alaska, land of the midnight sun! Only now it was nearly winter, and the sun shone for only a few hours a day.

  Because it was Sunday, there was little traffic, and soon Nancy was approaching the docks. She parked the car and walked toward the Musk Ox.

  It was not the largest ship Nancy had ever seen, but it was one of the newest. The exterior was shining with fresh paint, and the ship itself had the sleek lines of recent construction. Wilcox Shipping had to be doing well to afford a vessel like this.

  “Nancy Drew?” the security guard asked when she approached the ship. “Mr. Wilcox told me you’d be coming.”

  He guided Nancy onto the ship and led the way down a wide flight of stairs. The metal cleats on his boots clacked on the treads. “The cargo’s in here,” he said, pointing to a huge room filled with pallets that were loaded with boxes.

  A stout middle-aged man in a crumpled gray suit stood in the doorway. The guard introduced him as Detective Chandler and explained that Nancy wanted to see how the ivory had been smuggled. “Mr. Wilcox okayed it,” the guard added.

  Chandler gave the guard a weary look. “What makes Wilcox think he’s got any say in a police matter?” he grumbled. But then he beckoned to Nancy. “Okay, I guess it won’t hurt if I show you around the place,” he muttered. “Let’s go.”

  The guard returned to his post on the upper deck, leaving Nancy and Detective Chandler in the hold.

  Nancy looked around at the Musk Ox’s cargo. Steel shelving extended from floor to ceiling, lining the four walls and forming long aisles that reminded Nancy of a library’s stacks. Only in this case, the shelves were filled with thousands of cartons, rather than with books.

  “The customs inspectors found the stuff right here,” Detective Chandler told her. He led the way to a pallet of cartons labeled Green Beans. The pile of boxes had been partly unpacked.

  “Green beans,” Nancy murmured, surprised.

  Chandler gestured to another pallet. The stacked cartons were covered with clear plastic wrap. “See, there should have been 192 cartons of beans. But this one had only 191 cartons of beans. The other carton was filled with ivory.”

  “It looks like it was a middle carton,” Nancy said.

  “You’re right,” Chandler agreed. “It’s safer that way. When the customs people inspect a pallet, they usually open only the cartons on the edges. This time, by chance, they were a little more thorough.”

  “Can I see some of the ivory?” Nancy asked.

  “Sorry,” the detective said. “It was all taken to headquarters as evidence.”

  Nancy swallowed her disappointment. “Do you know what it looked like?” she asked.

  “Little birds,” he answered. “Puffins, I think they were.”

  Like the one she and George had seen at the airport! “Do you know where the ivory came from?” she asked, excited.

  “Sure,” Chandler confided. “The ivory’s from the Far East. But the beans were loaded onto the ship in Seattle. This smuggling operation is big.”

  Nancy’s mind began to whirl. There had to be at least three people involved. First, there was someone in the Orient who got the ivory to the United States. Then, there was whoever had substituted the carton of ivory for one of beans. That could have occurred either at the food cannery or at the loading dock in Seattle. Finally, there was someone here in Alaska to receive the smuggled goods.

  She pulled out a notebook and wrote down the name of the canner, the shipper, and the company in Anchorage that was supposed to receive the beans.

  Detective Chandler’s beeper suddenly went off. He unclipped it from his belt and looked at the number displayed on it. “Sorry,” he said, “but I’ve got to call the chief.” He gave Nancy a long look. “Don’t go away—I’ll be right back.”

  Left by herself, Nancy looked around eagerly. This was her chance to search for clues the police might have missed. Spotting a door on the other side of the stairway, she went over and tried it.

  It was unlocked. She slipped through it and switched on the lights.

  The room, another in the cargo hold, was filled with thousands of cartons. As she walked slowly along the aisles, Nancy looked at the pallets. Everything seemed normal—until she reached the last row. The plastic on one of the pallets was coming loose at one corner.

  Nancy pulled out her pocketknife, slit the plastic, and started removing the cartons, which were labeled Cookies. When she reached the center, her probing fingers found a carton that felt heavier than the rest.

  Carefully, Nancy eased it out. She slid her knife under the cardboard flaps, loosening the glue so she could open the carton.

  Her eyes widened. It was filled with hundreds of ivory carvings.

  Nancy unwrapped one of the small figurines and looked at it. Like the puffin she and George had seen in the airport shop, the carving was beautiful. This one was a brown bear standing on its hind legs. Nancy turned it over and noticed a small label with the Alaska state map.

  She pulled out her notebook and noted the same data she’d taken from the first pallet. Everything was different—the manufacturer, shipper, and recipient.

  Just then, she heard a faint rustling at the other end of the hold.

  “I’m over here,” she called, expecting to see Detective Chandler.

  But the footsteps that approached weren’t heavy enough to be Chandler’s. And they didn’t clack like the guard’s. Nancy’s scalp prickled.

  “Who’s there?” she called.

  The footsteps stopped. A moment later they started again. But no one answered.

  “Who’s there?” Nancy demanded again.

  Again no answer.

  Her heart pounding, Nancy headed for the doorway. Suddenly, the lights went out, and the cargo hold was plunged into utter darkness. A second later, a human form careered into Nancy, knocking her down. Then she heard the door click shut as the myster
ious intruder escaped.

  Chapter

  Five

  NANCY SAT UP, groaning a little as she rubbed a bruised elbow. She reached into the pocket of her parka for her penlight. She switched it on, but it was too late. Rapid footsteps climbed the stairs. Whoever had been in the cargo hold had already fled. Turning off the lights had given him the head start he needed to escape without Nancy’s seeing him.

  She raced up the stairs and looked around the deck. There was no one in sight, not even the security guard. Nancy walked quickly to the other side of the ship, hoping to spot either the guard or the detective.

  “Finished, Miss Drew?” the guard asked.

  “Just about,” Nancy called. “By the way, did anyone else come on board?”

  The guard shook his head. “No one.”

  Detective Chandler came out of the cabin, looking irritated. “Ready to leave?” he asked.

  Nancy nodded. It was obvious neither of the men knew about the person in the cargo hold. By now the intruder was safely off the ship, and they’d never catch him. Was it worth mentioning the incident? Probably not—Chandler seemed grouchy enough already.

  She told him what she’d found in the second section of the hold. Chandler went back inside the ship’s cabin to alert the customs inspectors.

  Nancy walked down the gangplank and hurried to the parking lot. It was almost empty. There was a small truck with a security company logo on its door, Nancy’s car, and a van—Steve’s van.

  Nancy’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Why was Steve at the shipyard this morning? According to George, he had had other plans.

  “If it isn’t the great investigator.” Steve walked around the van from the other side. Despite his flippant words, he seemed startled to see Nancy.

  “Hello,” she said pleasantly. “I’m surprised you’re here. I thought you and George were going skating this morning.”

  “That was the plan,” Steve told her. “But Craig’s truck broke down, so I gave him a ride in here to pick up some supplies.”

  “Did you see the guard when you were on the ship?” Nancy asked.

  Steve frowned. “What makes you think I was on the ship?” He gestured to a building in the direction from which he’d come. “Craig and I were in that warehouse.” He glared at Nancy as though challenging her to dispute him.

  “Nancy!” Craig’s voice was warm and friendly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  She turned, glad to see a smiling face. Craig’s arms were wrapped around a large carton. Judging from the way he was holding it, it was heavy. As he slid it into the back of the van, he explained, “These are vitamins for the dogs. We buy a lot of stuff by the case right from the suppliers. It’s cheaper that way.”

  “Yeah,” Steve mocked. “It’s one of the great privileges of being part of the Wilcox empire.”

  He climbed into the van and roared out of the lot. Nancy walked back to her car. Could Steve have been the intruder in the hold? Or Craig? Steve’s reaction to her questions had certainly been violent, but then he seemed to have strong reactions to many things. It was hard to say.

  Frowning, she drove back to the Wilcox house.

  Steve and Craig were already there when Nancy arrived, and Steve seemed to have gotten over his anger. He was smiling and pleasant all through lunch, and as soon as it was over, he and Craig invited Nancy and George to see the sled dogs.

  “I’ve just been waiting for you to ask,” George told Steve as they pulled on their coats. “I’m dying to try dogsledding!”

  They trooped outside to a large barn about a hundred yards behind the house. As soon as Steve and Craig walked inside, the dogs began yapping and howling with excitement.

  “They’re beautiful!” George exclaimed as she knelt to pet two Siberian huskies. “What are their names?”

  Steve hunkered down next to her and touched one dog’s nose. “This is Thunder,” he said softly. “The other dog is Lightning.”

  Nancy stroked Lightning’s head. George wasn’t exaggerating. The dogs were among the handsomest she’d ever seen.

  “They know we’re going to take them for a run,” Craig explained, “and they just can’t wait.”

  When he pulled a harness from the wall, the barking intensified. For the next few minutes there was pandemonium as Craig and Steve fitted the harnesses and leashed the dogs to the sled outside.

  When all eight dogs were ready, Steve stood at the back of the sled and released the brake. “Hike!” he yelled. The sled shot forward over the snow. The dogs were suddenly silent as they concentrated on pulling the load.

  Craig watched them with a critical eye. “Thunder’s a little slow today,” he said. “I’ll have to give him more vitamins.”

  As the dog team ran out of sight, Craig turned toward the barn. “Want to help me?” he asked Nancy and George.

  Though the barn provided protection against the wind, the dogs did not sleep on the concrete floor. Instead, each had a wooden pallet covered with straw. After Craig had cleaned out the old straw, he dragged a fresh bale from one corner of the barn and started forking it onto the pallets. “This keeps them warm and helps conserve energy,” he explained. “That’s important in the winter.”

  Nancy and George grabbed shovels and helped Craig prepare the dogs’ beds.

  “Thanks,” Craig said when they’d finished. “It goes a lot faster when you have help.”

  “Doesn’t Steve help?” Nancy asked.

  Craig shook his head. “Steve races the dogs. The care and feeding are up to me.”

  Nancy thought there was a tinge of resentment in Craig’s voice. She was glad when George changed the subject.

  “What do you feed the dogs?” she asked.

  “Dog food—what else?” Craig laughed. “We give them the dry stuff in the summer.” He gestured toward a fenced-in corner of the barn where several dozen large bags of food were stacked. “During racing season they get hot food, things like cooked meat and fish. Lots of vitamins, too. They burn up a lot of calories running.”

  The sound of barking told the girls that Steve and the dog team were returning.

  “They’re in great shape today,” Steve said, entering the barn. His face was red with exertion, but he was grinning. For the first time since Nancy had met him, he looked completely happy. “I know I’m going to win the Solstice.”

  “I hope you do.” George smiled at him.

  “Want to take them for a run?” Steve offered.

  “Could I?” George asked enthusiastically.

  “It’s easy,” Craig assured her, leading them outside. “The dogs are used to running one route here, and they’ll go that way. All you have to do is guide them.” He pointed to the handlebar. “You hold this and yell when you want the dogs to turn or stop.”

  “Do you know the commands?” Steve asked.

  George shook her head slightly. “I thought everyone said mush to get them started, but you yelled hike.”

  “Everybody uses something different at the beginning. What’s important are whoa, gee, and haw,” Craig explained. “You know what those mean, don’t you? ‘Stop,’ ‘right,’ and ‘left.’ ”

  George nodded.

  “You can ride the runners,” Steve said, pointing to the back of the sled. “The only time you have to get off is going up a hill. Then you run behind the sled.”

  “And you said it was easy.” George took her position behind the team, grabbed the handlebar, and released the brake.

  “Hike, Thunder!” she cried.

  With a jerk, the team was off. Soon George and the dogs disappeared up the trail.

  When they came back a short time later, she was grinning from ear to ear. “It’s wonderful! Almost like flying!”

  Craig checked the dogs and tightened one of the neck lines. “Your turn, Nancy,” he said.

  Nancy stepped up, grabbed the handlebar, and released the brake. “Hike!” she called.

  The dogs surged forward, easily pulling the heavy sled. T
hunder, the lead dog, turned his head, as though checking the other dogs’ progress, and Nancy heard him bark a short command. In response one of the two wheel dogs, the ones closest to the sled, moved away from his partner.

  “Gee!” Nancy shouted the command to turn right as the trail curved. Thunder led the team around the corner. The cold wind drew tears from Nancy’s eyes, but she barely noticed. Her pulse was pounding with exhilaration.

  All too soon the barn was in sight again, and Nancy had to stop the team with a loud “Whoa!”

  “You and George were great!” Craig said enthusiastically. “You’re natural mushers.”

  Nancy laughed, breathless with delight. Lindsay was right. One taste of racing a dog sled, and she was hooked.

  “We’re going to practice at the local track,” Craig said. “Do you two want to come along?”

  “Try to keep me away!” George challenged.

  The girls helped Steve and Craig load the dogs and the sled into the back of Craig’s truck.

  “You’d better bring your van, just in case,” Craig told Steve. “The truck’s running now, but I don’t guarantee it.”

  Steve invited George to ride with him, and it was clear he wanted to be alone with her, so Nancy climbed into the rickety old truck with Craig.

  The drive to the track took only a few minutes. When they pulled into the parking lot, Craig groaned. “Uh-oh, trouble. Steve’s not going to be too happy about this.” He climbed out of the truck and slammed the door. Nancy got out on her side and came around the back of the truck.

  Not far away Amanda and Lindsay were busily unloading a team of dogs from a utility van. Though Lindsay was dressed in a practical navy blue parka with heavy down stuffing, Amanda wore ski pants and a hooded jacket made of beaver fur. They soon spotted the new arrivals.

  “Oh, look, it’s the great Steven Wilcox,” Amanda said loudly as Steve got out of his van and went over to help Craig. She straightened, calling after him, “It won’t do you any good to practice, you know. You don’t have a chance of winning the Derby.”

  Steve kept his head bent over the dogs’ harnesses and remained silent.