Trail of Lies

by Carolyn Keene

  “Very nice logic, Miss Detective,” Steve snapped. “You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you? But you’re wrong. I had nothing to do with it. And I don’t need to prove myself to you.”

  “I—I believe you, Steve,” George spoke up, and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But do you have any idea how that whip got onto your sled?”

  Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t used a whip at all this season. Lindsay gave me a hard time about it all last year, and then Amanda started in, too. I finally gave up and told Craig to throw the thing away. It wasn’t worth all the grief.”

  “There’s something else I want to ask you,” Nancy said to Steve.

  “Should I call my attorney?” he demanded sarcastically. “After that last question, you’ll probably accuse me of being the smuggler.”

  George gasped. “You don’t believe that, do you, Nancy?”

  Now Nancy knew she was treading on very delicate ground. Instead of answering the question directly, she turned to Steve. “I’d like to know why you quit your job at Wilcox Shipping.”

  Steve’s face darkened with anger. “Why don’t you ask my father?”

  “He told me to ask you,” she responded evenly.

  Steve spun around and stared into the fireplace. “It’s no secret that my father and I don’t agree on a lot of things,” he said over his shoulder. “He wants me to carry on the family business. He doesn’t care that I’m not interested in the shipping industry. I want to race dogs professionally. But to him, they’re only a hobby.”

  “I’m sure he cares. It’s just that—” George began, but Nancy hushed her. She wanted to hear Steve’s side of the story.

  “For a while we worked out a compromise,” Steve went on. “Dad hired Craig to help with the dogs, and I took a job at the company.” Nancy saw his fists clench. “I tried,” he said in a tight voice. “I really did, but I hated it. I’m just not cut out to work in an office.”

  “Many people aren’t,” Nancy commented.

  “Dad didn’t see it that way,” Steve said bitterly.

  George took his hand in hers. “So what happened?” she urged.

  “Oh, I messed up a couple of the accounts. It was bound to happen—I just can’t do that kind of stuff. Anyway, Dad and I had a big fight. I left the company. And I can tell you this, I’m never going back. I don’t want anything to do with Wilcox Shipping.” Defiantly, Steve concluded, “If you’ve got any more questions, save them, because I’ve had enough for today.”

  He walked out of the room. George bit her lip as she watched him go.

  “Oh, Nancy, he’s not a criminal,” she burst out when the door had closed behind Steve. “He just needs someone to tell him he’s not a loser. Did you have to push him so hard?”

  Nancy sighed. “I needed answers, George,” she said patiently. “I got some. But there are still a few questions I’d like to ask Steve.” Like what he meant when he said I’d “mess up everything,” she added to herself.

  “He’s not a criminal,” George repeated. Her lips set in a stubborn line. “I know it. And I know you’ll find the same thing.”

  “I really do hope you’re right,” Nancy told her friend sincerely.

  George went after Steve to see if she could talk to him. Nancy walked to the telephone closet. She still had to find Amanda.

  After calling the shipping company’s offices, Nancy found out that Amanda Spear had called in sick. There was no answer at her apartment, however. Then Nancy phoned Lindsay.

  “No, I haven’t seen Amanda since right before the trials,” Lindsay said.

  “Before the trials? You mean she was there?” Nancy asked, surprised. “I didn’t see her.”

  “Well, she was at the starting line, but she must have left pretty quickly. I looked for her afterward, but I couldn’t find her,” Lindsay said. “She sure has been acting weird lately.”

  “Thanks, Lindsay. Listen, I’ve got to go,” Nancy said. She hung up and came out of the phone closet. So Amanda had been at the trials. What significance did that fact have?

  Nancy’s head was beginning to ache. She took a deep breath and stretched. The movement made all her bruises ache again and reminded her of what she’d been through in the last two days.

  Maybe I’ll just lie down on the couch in the den and think for a little while, she decided. There’s not much I can do until Dad and Mr. Wilcox get back, anyway. And I’m so tired!

  Going into the den, she closed the door quietly behind her and stretched out on the couch. I’ll just shut my eyes for a minute, she told herself. Just for a minute . . .

  • • •

  Nancy woke with a start at the sound of a door slamming. Then she heard the voices of her father and Henry Wilcox. Peering groggily at her watch, she realized that it was almost six o’clock. She had slept the afternoon away! Shaking her head, she went upstairs to wash her face before dinner.

  At dinner Nancy learned only that the interview with Detective Chandler hadn’t had any results one way or the other. Carson Drew and Henry Wilcox weren’t saying more—they made a determined effort to keep the conversation light.

  Carson regaled Nancy and George with tales of his day. “Now I know how the other half lives,” he said, grinning at Henry. “My friend here told me he had business in Juneau, so we took his company plane, and off we went to the capital for the afternoon. Tomorrow we’re going to Fairbanks.”

  Henry laughed. “It isn’t that unusual to have a private plane in Alaska. We have so few roads here that planes are sometimes the only means of transportation.”

  “Almost as good as dog sleds,” Steve said. Nancy suspected he was trying to needle his father.

  Carson turned to him. “How’d you do in the trials today?” he asked.

  “I won,” Steve said flatly.

  Carson reached over and shook his hand. “Congratulations. I’m glad to hear that.”

  “So am I! Are you happy now?” Henry asked Steve.

  The question hadn’t sounded provocative to Nancy, but Steve gave his father an irritated look. “Not until I win the Solstice Derby. You know that.”

  Henry changed the subject. “We have another ship arriving tonight,” he told Nancy. “The Dall Sheep. It’ll be unloading tomorrow.”

  “Would you mind if I had a look around it before it unloads?” she asked.

  “Not at all. In fact, I’m going to the shipyard tomorrow morning. Why don’t you ride in with me?” Henry offered. “But we have to go early so that I can get back in time to fly to Fairbanks before noon.”

  “No problem.” Nancy looked at George. “Want to come along?”

  George groaned. “No thanks. I’d rather sleep.”

  When dinner was over, Nancy returned to the telephone closet and tried calling Amanda again. There was still no answer. One way or another, she’d have to find the girl the next day. Time was running out for Henry.

  When Nancy hung up and stepped into the hallway, she found John waiting for her. “Can I talk to you?” he asked.

  “Sure.” Curious, Nancy followed him into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair for her and reached into his pocket.

  “Here.” He handed her a piece of twisted red paper.

  Nancy stared at it. “What is it?” she asked. The paper looked ordinary, except for a black mark on one edge.

  “I think it’s what frightened Lindsay’s dogs,” John said. “After I left you, I started thinking about what could have made the noise. I went back and looked around. This was lying on the track.” He pointed at the paper. “I was lucky that it wasn’t a white one. I’d never have found it in all the snow.”

  “Found what?” Nancy asked, mystified. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s like a firecracker. There’s a mild explosive inside it, and when you hit it against something hard, it makes a loud bang.” John grinned. “My brother Jim and I used to play with them. I didn’t know kids still used them.”

  Nancy held the red pape
r up and examined it. Now she knew why no one had seen a whip. Any one of the spectators—including Amanda, John, and Craig—could have carried the firecracker. It was small and easy enough to use that even Steve could have done it on his sled.

  Which, she thought, puts me right back where I started. Anyone could have done it—Steve or Craig to ruin Lindsay’s race, Amanda—or any of them, really—to put me out of commission. The question is, who did do it?

  • • •

  As Henry Wilcox drove Nancy into Anchorage the next morning, he asked her what she was looking for on the ship that had just arrived.

  “I want to see if any of the cargo was loaded in Seattle,” she told him. “That’s where the other smuggled shipments came from, remember?”

  The Dall Sheep wasn’t as modern as the Musk Ox, but it had the same air of prosperity and fresh paint that Nancy had seen on the other ship.

  Henry led Nancy to the front of the ship and pulled out the cargo lists for her. “I’ll leave you to look through them,” he said. “I want to talk to the guard.”

  She searched each of the shipping receipts, looking for any cargo that had originated in Seattle, but there was none.

  “Any luck?” Henry asked when he returned.

  “Not much,” Nancy said. “Could we stop by police headquarters? I’d like to see whether they’ve checked the pallets of books.”

  Henry agreed, but unfortunately Detective Chandler had nothing to report. They’d searched each carton, and they were all the same—filled with paperback books.

  “We’ve had the Totem Pole’s ivory supplier in for questioning, too,” Detective Chandler told Nancy and Henry. “It looks as if he was duped just like everyone else.”

  “Who did he buy the statues from?” Nancy asked. “Did he say?”

  The detective glanced quickly at his notes. “Well, he buys a lot of his stuff from a lot of different people, and he wasn’t sure which one sold him the ivory bear.” Chandler looked up, and his eyes met Nancy’s. “But he thinks he bought the fake at an auction outside Anchorage, from a tall young man who arrived on a dogsled.”

  Chapter

  Twelve

  A TALL YOUNG MAN on a dogsled,” Nancy repeated faintly. The description fit Steve Wilcox pretty well. She glanced at Henry out of the corner of her eye, but he didn’t seem to have caught the significance of Chandler’s statement. Probably it had never even occurred to him to suspect his own son, Nancy realized.

  Well, there was no concrete proof yet. And after all, it was possible that the supplier had met with some other tall young dogsled driver. For Henry’s and George’s sakes, she hoped it was so.

  “Thanks, Detective Chandler,” she said. Turning to Henry, she forced a cheerful smile. “Ready to head home?”

  When they arrived back at the house, Henry left the car running while he went in to get Carson. Nancy followed him in.

  John Tilden came in from the kitchen. “Is George up yet?” Nancy asked him. She wanted to prepare her friend for the possibility that Steve was involved in the smuggling after all.

  “I saw her go outside just after you left this morning,” the butler replied. “She said she was going to the kennels to look for Steve.”

  Nancy headed back outside. As she approached the barn, the dogs’ excited barking told her someone was inside with them.

  Nancy slid the wooden door open and stepped inside, blinking as her eyes adjusted from bright light to the dim interior. Steve was standing near the barrel stove in the middle of the floor, stirring a large pot of a strong-smelling substance. Craig was at the far end of the building, once again cleaning straw out of the dogs’ beds.

  “Hi!” she called. “Have you seen George?”

  Steve turned toward Nancy, still holding the wooden spoon in his hand. “I thought she went into Anchorage with you and Dad.”

  Nancy shook her head. “John said she came out here early this morning.” She walked closer to see what Steve was stirring. “What is that?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

  “Dog food. Want a taste?” Steve dipped the spoon back into the thick mixture and drew out a sample. “Fish, beaver, lamb, and liver—nothing but the finest ingredients for my dogs.”

  Nancy grimaced. “It sounds awful, and it smells even worse.”

  Steve gave her a tolerant smile. “The dogs need the nutrients. They race better when they’ve eaten a meal like this.” He put the spoon back into the pot, then called to Craig, “Do you know where George is?”

  Craig dropped the shovel into a pile of straw and walked toward them. “George?” he repeated. “She was here first thing this morning. She said she was going to Lindsay’s.” He looked at his watch. “That was a couple of hours ago, though. She ought to be back by now.”

  Nancy was surprised. George hadn’t mentioned that plan to her. She thanked Craig for the information, then headed back to the house. Hurrying to the telephone, she looked up Lindsay’s number and dialed.

  No answer. She tried again, thinking she might have misdialed. Still no answer.

  Nancy wrote down Lindsay’s address, grabbed the keys to the car Henry had lent her, and headed for the garage. Five minutes later she pulled into the driveway of Lindsay’s house.

  She walked up the front steps and knocked on the door. No one answered.

  The kennels were out back, a good distance from the house. The sound of yipping told her she was headed in the right direction. When she rounded a small bend, she saw the barn. She pushed open the door and looked around.

  “Hi, Lindsay,” Nancy called in greeting. “Is George still here?”

  Like Steve, Lindsay was stirring a pot of vile-smelling food. She looked up at Nancy, a puzzled expression on her face.

  “Was George supposed to be here?” she asked.

  “She’s not at the Wilcoxes’, and she told Craig she was coming here,” Nancy said.

  Lindsay shook her head. “I haven’t seen her since the trial run yesterday. I was planning to come over and see you two today, to make sure you were both okay after that fall. But with a storm coming, I had to get the dogs fed.”

  Lindsay gestured at the mixture she was stirring. “This is one bad thing about winter. In summer we give the dogs dry food, but they burn so many more calories in winter that we have to cook this stew. They love it, but I sure don’t.” Lindsay stirred the pot once more. “I wish I could feed my team pellets all year.”

  Nancy tried not to be impatient, though she was really beginning to wonder about George. “I was hoping George would be here,” she admitted. “I thought she might have asked you for another chance to drive a dogsled.”

  Lindsay gave Nancy a quick glance. “If she shows up, I’ll tell her to call you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lindsay walked to the door with Nancy, then looked up at the sky. Though it had been blue an hour before, it was now gray, and there was a heaviness to the air.

  “The weatherman predicted a big storm,” Lindsay remarked. “Looks like it’s going to happen.”

  As Nancy slid behind the steering wheel, she frowned. It wasn’t like George to disappear without telling anyone. What if she was in trouble? She could have gone for a walk and gotten lost in the woods or something. Maybe Nancy should raise an alarm.

  She was about to start her car when she saw a battered old sedan pulling into Lindsay’s driveway. The driver’s door opened, and Amanda Spear got out.

  “Amanda,” Nancy whispered. She couldn’t pass up this chance to talk to her most elusive suspect. Jumping out of her car, she hurried over to block Amanda’s path. “Hello,” she said cheerfully. “I’ve been looking for you. I missed you at the trials yesterday.”

  Whatever reaction Nancy had expected, it wasn’t the one she got. Amanda’s face turned an angry shade of red. “If you want to gloat over Steve’s victory, don’t bother,” she snapped. “He may have beaten Lindsay, but it wasn’t a fair race.” Her voice was filled with scorn. “Steve’s got every advantage. His father giv
es him all the money he needs, and he’s got a trainer who can take the dogs out every morning.”

  Nancy started to interrupt, but the other girl wouldn’t let her speak.

  “Don’t try to deny it. I saw those dogs on my way to work this morning. I tell you, Nancy, it makes me sick. Steve’s a spoiled brat.”

  Nancy held up a hand to stop Amanda’s tirade. “I don’t want to talk about Steve’s dog team.”

  Amanda’s expression changed. “Oh?” she said cautiously.

  “Look, why don’t we go sit in my car?” Nancy suggested. “It’s freezing out here.”

  “Why?” Amanda asked. “How long is this going to take?”

  Nancy looked at her levelly. “That’s up to you,” she said.

  Amanda stared at Nancy for a long minute. Then she turned toward the car. “Let’s go.”

  The girls got into the car, and Nancy turned on the ignition so that she could run the heater. Amanda, seated in the passenger seat, folded her hands in her lap. “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I want some real answers from you.”

  Amanda twisted a lock of hair around one finger. “What are you talking about?” she said, and Nancy noted the quaver in her voice.

  “What do you know about the ivory that’s been smuggled on the Wilcox ships?” she demanded.

  Amanda’s eyes flew wide open. She looked utterly dumbfounded. “What ivory?”

  “You know—the little carved puffins and bears. Was it Steve’s idea?” Nancy asked. That was a shot in the dark, but she had to start this conversation somewhere. “Is that how you got involved?”

  Amanda’s face was white. “I don’t know anything about any smuggling. How could I be involved in something I know nothing about?”

  Nancy looked at her for a long moment. “You have a motive and opportunity, and you’ve certainly been acting very strangely.”