Trail of Lies

by Carolyn Keene

  “Anyone who treats dogs the way you do deserves to lose,” Amanda taunted him.

  This time Steve raised his head. Nancy saw his lips thin in anger. Amanda’s words had hit their mark.

  He still didn’t respond, though. He turned to George. “Want a ride on the sled?” he offered. Nancy wondered if that was his way of goading Amanda. She hoped Steve wasn’t just using George to make his former girlfriend jealous.

  George agreed, casting a sidelong glance at Nancy, then helped Craig and Steve unload the sled. With their team harnessed, Lindsay and Amanda moved to the other side of the track.

  “You two don’t need to hang around—George and I can bring the dogs back,” Steve said, pointedly dismissing Craig and Nancy. He reached into his pocket and handed Craig his key ring. “Why don’t you take the van?”

  “Sure thing,” Craig said quickly. Nancy was taken aback—she had thought they’d stay to watch Steve practice. She said nothing, though, as she and Craig walked back to the van. Craig unlocked the door and let Nancy in first.

  “This is luxury!” Craig said, climbing in the other side. He switched on the engine. “I wish I could afford one.”

  Nancy settled back in her plush seat. “Your truck is more practical,” she pointed out.

  “That’s true.” Then Craig changed the subject. “It sure looks like Steve’s interested in George.”

  “I think it’s mutual,” Nancy told him.

  “I thought they wanted some time together, so I didn’t say anything when Steve got rid of us,” he said. “I hope you weren’t offended. Steve doesn’t mean any harm, but he can be tactless sometimes.”

  “You’re a good friend to him,” Nancy said. She paused for a second. “Craig, what did Amanda mean when she said Steve mistreated the dogs?”

  Craig’s voice was harsh. “She spends too much time with Lindsay Dunning, and Lindsay’s a fanatic about her dogs. She really coddles those animals. She won’t have whips anywhere near them, and she even sings to them when she’s out on the trail.” Craig steered the van onto the main road. “It drives me crazy listening to Lindsay singing ‘This Land Is Your Land’ at the top of her lungs at every race.”

  “Do you use whips?” Nancy asked.

  Craig gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t get me wrong. We never beat our dogs. No good musher would mistreat his animals. But we used to do what some of the great Iditarod racers do—we’d crack a whip in the air. It excites the dogs and makes them run faster.”

  Craig took a sharp curve on the road, then spoke again. “Lindsay made such a fuss that we stopped using the whips. But Amanda doesn’t miss a chance to goad Steve about anything.”

  A few minutes later, the van pulled into the Wilcox driveway. A truck Nancy hadn’t seen before was parked in front of the porch. John Tilden and a strange man stood on the porch, talking. The man handed John an envelope.

  As the van crunched over the driveway, John’s head shot up. He quickly unzipped his parka and thrust the envelope inside. The man he was speaking to jumped into the truck and drove away.

  Then, without a glance in Nancy and Craig’s direction, the butler slipped inside the house.

  Chapter

  Six

  I WONDER WHAT John’s hiding now,” Craig muttered angrily.

  “What do you mean, ‘now’?” Nancy asked.

  Craig flushed slightly. “Nothing. I was just shooting off my mouth.” He opened the door and climbed out of the van.

  Nancy wasn’t convinced. “Come on, Craig. You must have meant something.”

  For a moment, Craig said nothing. Then, as they walked toward the house, he asked, “Have you ever had a feeling that something’s just not right?”

  “Sure,” Nancy said.

  “Well, that’s the way I feel about John. I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s wrong about him. For one thing, he hasn’t been with the Wilcoxes very long, and he won’t say where he was before that.”

  Nancy was thoughtful. It wouldn’t hurt to ask Henry Wilcox a few questions about his butler.

  • • •

  “Dogsledding is the most exciting thing I’ve ever tried,” George announced at dinner that night.

  “It’s a truly Alaskan hobby,” Henry Wilcox said, emphasizing the word hobby. Nancy saw Steve roll his eyes.

  “Well, all I know is, it was wonderful!” George said. Her eyes glowed with enthusiasm, and Steve grinned at her.

  “Maybe now you’ll agree to stay after Nancy and Mr. Drew leave,” he suggested.

  Carson looked down the table at Henry. “I wish we could spend more than a week here.”

  “So do I,” Henry said, “but I have to admit that my motives are selfish. Now that I have the police breathing down my neck, I’m hoping Nancy will uncover something.” He turned to Nancy, his expression serious. “How are you doing with the investigation?”

  Nancy shook her head slowly, wishing she had better news. “Not too well, so far.” She told them about the second shipment of ivory she had discovered, leaving out the part about the intruder who had turned out the lights. “I’ve got a couple of leads to check tomorrow when businesses are open again. I want to look at some of the shipping records, too,” she concluded.

  “I’ll have everything ready for you. I hope it helps.” Henry looked grim. “The police are giving me only two more days before they break the news to the press. I guess I’ve been lucky that they agreed to keep it quiet this long.”

  “You know, they don’t have any real evidence against you,” Carson said.

  “That’s what I like,” Henry said with a smile that looked forced. “A vote of confidence.”

  “Henry, there’s no way the charges against you will hold up,” Craig said firmly. “They’re ridiculous. I’m sure the police will catch the real culprit soon. Now, what can we do to make sure these people enjoy Alaska while they’re here?”

  “Do you think we’ll get to see the northern lights?” Nancy asked, taking his cue and changing the subject.

  “Well, it’s not the best time of year, but there’s still a pretty good chance,” Craig answered, reaching for more roast beef.

  “If you do, be sure to whistle,” Steve said.

  “Whistle? Why?” George looked puzzled.

  “It’s an old Eskimo legend,” Craig explained. “If you whistle, the lights will dance faster.”

  “Dancing lights—now I’ve really got to see them,” George said.

  Nancy was intrigued. “Where did you hear this legend?”

  “My grandpa used to spend time in the Inuit villages when he was trapping and trading,” Craig explained. “He learned a lot from the people, and not just stories about the northern lights.”

  When dinner was over, Nancy suggested they all go outside to look for the northern lights.

  “Sorry,” Steve said, “but I’ve had enough exercise for one day. I’m beat!”

  “Better count me out, too,” Craig said.

  “Wimps,” Nancy teased. She and George grabbed their heavy coats out of the foyer closet, then went outside.

  Nancy looked up at the sky. It was a clear, moonless night. “Let’s get away from the house lights,” she suggested. “We’ll be able to see better.”

  They walked for a few minutes until they were in the forest. It was completely dark and bitterly cold. Nancy could feel the breath freezing in her nostrils.

  “Will we know the northern lights if we see them?” George asked.

  “I don’t think we’ll be able to miss them.”

  They continued walking, clutching each other’s mittened hands so they wouldn’t get separated in the darkness, but they saw nothing. They were almost ready to call it quits when it happened.

  They came to a clearing, and Nancy gasped in wonder. Bands of blue and green shot across the sky, followed by brilliant reds and yellows that seemed so close Nancy almost reached out to try to touch them.

  “Whistle!” she said to George.

  Both o
f them pursed their lips and began to whistle. The colored bands pulsed and shifted. George let out a laugh of pure delight. The lights really did seem to dance in time with the whistling!

  Gradually the display began to fade. When the last light had dimmed, George said softly, “That was great.”

  A grin spread across Nancy’s face. “I’ll never, ever forget it.”

  She and George were quiet as they walked back to the house, awed by the incredible natural spectacle they’d just seen. It was only when they were out of the forest that George spoke again.

  “I’m so glad you asked me to come to Alaska with you,” she said. “Not just because of the northern lights, either.” She was silent for a moment. Nancy sensed her hesitation.

  “I really like Steve,” George said finally. “He’s a lot of fun.”

  Nancy’s reply was sincere. “I’m glad for you, George. Steve seems to like you, too.”

  “But not you,” George said, voicing Nancy’s unspoken thoughts.

  “You could say that,” Nancy said mildly.

  George stopped and faced Nancy. “It bothers me, Nan. I don’t think Steve’s normally so rude—I don’t think I could like him as much if he was really like that. This afternoon I asked him why he’s so cold to you, but he wouldn’t give me a reason. He said I was imagining it.”

  Nancy heard the hurt in George’s voice and tried to soothe her. “Maybe it’s just chemistry,” she suggested. “We didn’t hit it off from the beginning. But I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. I can take it.”

  “I don’t know.” George sounded miserable. “I just wish I knew what the problem was.”

  Me, too, Nancy thought to herself.

  They climbed the porch stairs and let themselves in the front door of the house. The dining room was empty, and there was no sign of Carson, Henry, Craig, or Steve.

  “I wonder where the guys are,” George said.

  Just then, loud voices carried through the door of the den.

  “Calm down, Steve!” Craig’s voice said.

  Steve’s voice was anything but calm. “I don’t care what you say,” he shouted. “I don’t want Nancy Drew here. She’ll mess up everything!”

  Chapter

  Seven

  THE DOOR of the den flew open, and Steve stormed into the hallway. At the sight of the girls, his face flushed red with embarrassment.

  “I think you owe Nancy—” George started to say.

  Nancy quickly shushed her. If Steve made an apology, she wanted it to be because he decided to, not because George shamed him into it.

  “Good night, George,” Steve said stiffly. He headed for the stairs without even acknowledging Nancy’s presence.

  “Steve!” George started to follow him, but the look he gave her stopped her in her tracks.

  “You could call that bad chemistry,” Nancy said with an attempt at humor after Steve had disappeared.

  “More like bad manners,” George countered glumly. “I just don’t understand him.”

  Craig came to the door of the den.

  “Can I talk to you, Nancy?” he asked quietly.

  George flashed Nancy a smile. “I’m off to bed,” she murmured, then started up the stairs.

  “What is it, Craig?” Nancy asked, walking into the den. Craig motioned her to a chair, but she remained standing.

  “I—I just want to apologize for Steve,” he said. “His manners have been atrocious. But believe me, that’s not the real Steve.”

  Nancy bit her tongue. It was the only Steve she’d seen.

  “He’s not himself,” Craig continued. “He’s awfully upset about the smuggling and what the charges could mean to his father. I guess the strain has made him snap at everyone around him.”

  Privately, Nancy didn’t think Steve had shown all that much concern about his father’s troubles, but she wasn’t going to argue with Craig. “It’s a tough situation,” she said neutrally. “Look, Craig, don’t worry about me. If Steve has something against me, that’s his problem. There’s nothing any of us can do about it.” Stifling a yawn with her hand, she added, “Now, I’ve got to get to bed before I fall asleep on my feet.”

  That wasn’t strictly true. Nancy needed to be alone so she could think about what she’d just heard. What had Steve meant by saying she would “mess up everything”?

  What did Steve have to fear from Nancy? His outburst made no sense whatsoever—unless he was the smuggler. Then he would have reason to fear Nancy, because she might uncover his scheme.

  It was a great theory, except for one thing: from what she had seen in the past day, Steve Wilcox had everything money could buy. He apparently had no motive to smuggle!

  • • •

  As she drove to the Wilcox Shipping offices the next morning, Nancy couldn’t help feeling happy. No matter how little progress she had made on the case, it was a beautiful day. Once again, the dark sky was clear, with a reddish tint in the east that meant the sun was going to rise soon. Before she reached downtown Anchorage, the fiery red ball had climbed over the Chugach Mountains.

  She gazed in wonder at one peak, soaring above the others. At first she’d thought it was a cloud, hovering on top of the mountains. Then she realized the huge mass of white was a snow-covered mountain—Mount McKinley. No wonder the Inuits called it the Great One! It was so tall it dwarfed the rest of the range. Nancy wondered whether George could see McKinley from wherever she and Steve were training the dogs. She hoped so.

  The shipping offices were located on Anchorage’s main street, Fourth Avenue. Nancy had no trouble finding the building. She parked and went in, taking the stairs to the second-floor offices.

  “Is Mr. Wilcox here?” Nancy asked the receptionist. She gazed around curiously. Like Henry Wilcox’s house, the Wilcox Shipping offices were attractively decorated and exuded an air of prosperity.

  “I’m sorry, but he was called away.” The woman gave Nancy an appraising look. “Are you Nancy Drew?”

  At Nancy’s nod, the receptionist told her, “Mr. Wilcox said Amanda Spear could help you. Third cubicle on the right.”

  Nancy felt a momentary frustration. She’d wanted to talk to Henry about John’s previous employer. Now she’d have to wait.

  “Good morning,” she said as she poked her head into Amanda’s cubicle.

  Amanda was seated at a large desk staring intently at a computer screen. She started at Nancy’s voice, then smiled nervously. “Hi.”

  Nancy took one of the visitors’ chairs. “I was hoping to talk to you at the track yesterday,” she said.

  “Too bad you didn’t stay. Lindsay trounced Steve.” There was no hiding the satisfaction in Amanda’s voice.

  Nancy looked around the cubicle. Other than a nice desk clock, there were no personal possessions, none of the usual pictures and knickknacks that told a lot about the person who worked in an office. The only thing that appeared to belong to Amanda was the fox jacket she’d worn the other night. It was hanging from a hook in one corner.

  “Did Mr. Wilcox tell you I was coming?” Nancy asked.

  Amanda unclasped her hands and began to twist the huge gold ring on her right hand. “Yes. He says you’re a detective,” she said. Her voice quavered ever so slightly. “You’re the first one I’ve met.”

  Nancy smiled. “I hope you’re not disappointed—I’m not wearing a trench coat or carrying a magnifying glass or anything.” She wanted to put Amanda at ease. The young woman was obviously nervous about this visit. Why was that?

  “So what are you investigating?” Amanda twisted her ring again and glanced at the clock.

  Nancy and Henry had agreed last night that it was best not to tell the company’s employees about the smuggling. “Oh, I’m just helping Mr. Wilcox out with a little problem,” Nancy said vaguely. “I’d like to take a look at the shipping records and the company financial statements.”

  Was it Nancy’s imagination, or did Amanda grow a shade paler at her request?

  �
��Oh—sure. Let me set you up,” Amanda said quickly. She led the way to an empty cubicle. “You can work in here—no one will bother you. I’ll get the books.”

  A few minutes later she returned with three large binders, which she deposited in front of Nancy. Thanking her, Nancy pulled out a calculator and a pad of paper and got to work.

  As she looked through the company’s financial information, Nancy began to wish she knew more about accounting. Everything looked in order to her, but she was having a hard time following all the columns of debits and credits. She flipped to the payroll but soon gave up—that was even more confusing.

  One thing seemed certain from these accounts, however: Wilcox Shipping was indeed a very prosperous company. The numbers at the bottom of each column showed clear profits. Nancy was glad. The case against her father’s friend was looking weaker, since he had no obvious motive to smuggle.

  Nancy pulled out the shipping records to look at the cargo list for the Musk Ox’s last trip. She studied the sheets for the shipments of beans and cookies. They showed the same information she’d seen stenciled on the outside of the cartons. The packers for each were different. So were the companies who were supposed to receive the food.

  The Musk Ox had stopped in four ports to pick up cargo, she noted. Where had Detective Chandler said the beans were picked up? She looked at the sheet again. Seattle. And the cookies?

  Aha! A smile of satisfaction spread across Nancy’s face. The cookies had come from Seattle, too. So both pallets with ivory in them had been loaded there. It was the first link she’d found.

  Eagerly she searched through the manifest, looking for other cargo that had been loaded in Seattle. There was only one other entry—three pallets of paperback books. If her theory was correct, one of those pallets might contain a carton of carved ivory figurines rather than books.

  There was only one way to find out. But first she had one more binder of company records to search. She started looking through the personnel records for Wilcox Shipping. Her eyes widened in surprise at an unexpected name on the employee roster: Steven Wilcox.