The Mystery of the Indian Carvings

by Gloria Repp

  “A secret compartment!” she exclaimed.

  “Paul Edenshaw is a genius at managing secrets,” her uncle said. “He made this for your father and me when we were boys. We were saving our money for a boat, and he designed it as a bank that neither of us could open unless the other was there.”

  Uncle Nate grinned boyishly. “See here.” He put a dime into a slit that Julie had thought was the otter’s mouth. A second later, it clattered onto the desk. “We’d put the money in there and of course it would drop down into the compartment. Every week or so, we opened it together and counted how much we’d saved.”

  He swung the sea-otter bank closed. “We never did get enough money for a boat, but we sure had a lot of fun with that bank.”

  He fingered the otter’s chipped ear. “I was the one who dropped it one day when it was almost full—chipped this ear. I’ll have to get Paul to fix it sometime.”

  He handed Julie’s small otter back to her, and turned to put the sea-otter bank onto the shelf.

  A box on his desk caught her eye. It was the size of a large book and intricately carved of the black stone her uncle had called argilite. Small grinning faces and an eagle decorated the lid, but most interesting was its shiny brass lock.

  Was this where he kept his code book?

  She couldn’t ask him that, so she said, “Did Paul Edenshaw carve this too?”

  “No, it’s old Haida,” her uncle said, “but he added the lock for me. You really like Indian art, eh?”

  “At first I thought it was scary, like the totem poles,” Julie said. “But I’m learning about them from Robert.”

  Her uncle sighed. “You’re so different from Karin. She hates all of this—” He waved a hand at the shelves of artifacts. “And lately she seems to hate everything else too. I wish I could figure out what she wants.”

  The unhappiness on his face reminded her of Dad, and she felt sorry for him. Without stopping to think, she said, “Karin wants for you to be interested in her, like . . .” She hardly dared go on, but she did. “. . . like you are in your work.”

  He swiveled in his chair to gaze out onto the balcony. A blue jay landed on the railing, cocked its head, and flashed away into the trees.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. Really, it wasn’t any of her business how he treated his daughter.

  Her uncle turned. “Let me tell you about my work, Julie. Have you ever heard of interferon or T-cells?”

  “No.”

  “They’re proteins that our bodies produce when disease attacks—part of our immune system. Doctors are hoping that they’ll turn out to be effective for treating cancer.”

  He glanced at her and went on. “I’m part of a company that’s conducting trials on immune therapies, looking for an immune booster.”

  His words reminded her of the day Melissa had been crying because her mom had cancer. Maybe this new medicine would help.

  “That’s wonderful,” she said. “It could save a bunch of lives.”

  His face lit up. “Exactly. Trials are going on, all over the world, and my job is to gather information and draw conclusions. I take notes, and then make charts to summarize my findings.”

  He paused, his blue eyes grave. “A couple of big companies are racing to develop a useful drug, and my charts would be valuable to them.”

  “You mean someone might try to steal your research?”

  “I’m afraid so—millions of dollars are involved.” He shrugged. “They might try, but they wouldn’t succeed. Don’t be concerned. You can see that we don’t have complicated locks on the doors and windows. There are more effective ways of protecting secrets.”

  He stood up. “I’ve kept you long enough, eh? I hope you’re having a good time here on your visit. When’s your father coming to see us?”

  “Friday.” She watched his face. Now he would tell her that she would have to leave with Dad.

  But all he said was, “Enjoy yourself!” and opened the door.

  Back in her room, Julie watched from her window as Karin and Stan rode their bikes up the driveway. They were shouting at each other, which didn’t surprise her. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen them arguing, and Karin usually won.

  Right now, she had something more important to consider. She curled up in the blue chair to think about her uncle’s project. If he had to keep it secret in case it got stolen, it sounded dangerous. Perhaps there was a connection with the missing raven club, but he hadn’t mentioned it, so she wouldn’t worry.

  But what about the footsteps she’d heard the night Siem was poisoned? Had a spy from one of the drug companies been trying to get into the house?

  How much had he told Aunt Myra about his work? Maybe that was why her aunt wouldn’t give her the key to the balcony door. If she left it unlocked and a thief got in . . . She shivered at the thought.

  Before she went to bed that night, she couldn’t help feeling jumpy. The wind had started blowing, and it sounded louder up here than it had downstairs, and maybe she’d been thinking too much about Uncle Nate’s secret project.

  Whatever the reason, she made sure she locked her door, and she checked the balcony door and the window before she settled down.

  As she climbed into bed, she remembered that her room was right next to her uncle’s study with its important secrets. She hadn’t seen a safe, but it was probably hidden behind one of the pictures on the wall.

  The study was quiet now. Her uncle had set off into the darkening woods for his walk with Siem. Later he’d probably work for a few more hours, like he did on the nights when Robert came.

  The wind still sighed in the cedar trees outside her window. Through its whispering, she heard a small noise in the hall. Was Karin still up? No, she’d gone to bed early, and so had Aunt Myra.

  She propped herself up on one elbow to listen. The wind hushed, and everything in the house seemed to be waiting and watching with her. A sound dropped into the silence, a sound so faint that she wondered what she’d really heard. Was it—could it be?—a creak from the door into Uncle Nate’s study?

  After a moment’s hesitation, she tiptoed to her door and unlocked it. Opening it just a crack, she peered into the blackness of the hall. Somewhere, a door closed softly, but that was all.

  She marched herself back to bed and gave herself a talking-to. Old houses always made creaking noises in the wind—she’d read about that in lots of stories.

  Right now, she told herself, you are going to start being sensible.

  She rolled over and tried to think about her uncle’s sea-otter bank. Wasn’t it the cleverest thing?

  No wonder Dad was so fond of that small otter. And she’d been right about the satisfied look on the faces of the otters. They were probably delighted to be part of a secret bank. She smiled at her own fanciful imagining.

  It wasn’t long before she heard the familiar sounds of Uncle Nate returning to his study and the murmur of voices.

  The next morning she spent all her time at the beach, and when she came in for lunch, she sensed immediately that something else had happened. Her aunt had gone into Uncle Nate’s study to dust the Indian artifacts, and she’d discovered that the small wolf totem pole was gone.

  Julie’s memory of last night surged over her like a dark tide. But what could she say that would erase the worry from Aunt Myra’s face? She’d heard a noise that she couldn’t describe, and she’d seen nothing.

  She glanced at her uncle. Although he was eating his salad as silently and methodically as usual, his eyes looked dark.

  After what he’d told her yesterday, it made sense that someone would steal things from the study. Maybe it was part of a plan to uncover the secrets of his research. If only she could figure it all out!

  She glanced at Karin, but her cousin’s face looked cool and blank. No help there.

  After lunch, while Karin went off on one of her bike rides, Julie strolled back down to the beach to stare at the waves and think. How could those Indian thing
s be connected with her uncle’s research? Maybe he had hidden something in one of them, like a key.

  But how would anyone know what to steal? There were dozens of things in his collection.

  And how could anyone get in? The balcony doors and windows were kept locked.

  What about the doors into the house? She bounded up the steps to check.

  They both had an ordinary lock, the kind her brother would say could be opened with a credit card. Last night, someone could have easily sneaked inside.

  “Julie, is that you?” Aunt Myra called from the library.

  Her aunt was lying on the sofa with a cloth over her eyes, but she pushed the cloth back. “I want to ask you something.”

  She gave Julie a tiny smile. “If you are the one who took the wolf totem pole—perhaps for a trick or something—like the other time with the mask, just put it back, and we won’t be angry . . . please?”

  Julie’s hands clenched. How could they think that!

  She made herself speak quietly. “No, Aunt Myra, I did not take it.”

  “Oh . . .” Her aunt made a pitiful, whimpering sound. “I thought we’d be safe here on the island. He wanted to move closer to the research center, but I was afraid they’d kidnap him or something, so I never . . .”

  Her voice trailed off, and Julie tried to smile at her. “Maybe it’ll turn up or something. Don’t worry.”

  But she could see the look in her aunt’s pale blue eyes and knew that she’d stopped listening.

  Aunt Myra was afraid, terribly afraid.

  Karin’s Revenge

  Her aunt sank back against the cushions of the sofa, and Julie left. All this time, Aunt Myra must have been living in fear of Uncle Nate’s research being stolen. How sad!

  As she reached the stairway, the kitchen door slammed. Her cousin breezed into the house and soon caught up with her.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Karin muttered. “Your precious Robert is in trouble—big trouble. He’ll never be able to show his proud Indian face around here again.”

  “What happened?”

  Karin smiled and pushed past her to run up the stairs.

  In her room, Julie opened the window and leaned out, trying to gather her spinning thoughts. How would Karin all of a sudden know about Robert being in trouble? Had she caused it? Probably.

  An idea took shape, the idea that had been fluttering in her mind ever since talking with Aunt Myra.

  Karin’s trick of putting the Indian mask in Julie’s drawer had made plenty of trouble for her. Maybe her cousin had taken the totem so she could try the same thing with Robert.

  But how had she done it?

  Never mind how. Karin could accomplish whatever she set her mind to do.

  What next? Think! Where would Karin put the totem so Robert would be blamed for taking it? Did she know about his cave?

  Too many questions and no answers!

  She had to warn Robert. She started down the stairs and stopped abruptly. Aunt Myra was either in the library or the kitchen. What if she asked where Julie was going?

  She hurried back to her room and opened the balcony window, propping it up so it wouldn’t slam down this time. As she crawled out onto the balcony, she glanced at Uncle Nate’s window. Good, his drapes were pulled shut.

  She swung herself over the balcony rail, into the maple, and down from limb to limb.

  She’d go the way Robert had taken when he brought her back. She set off at a quick trot, hoping she could remember the trail and that Robert would be finished with work by now.

  When she reached The Spill, she knew she’d picked the right trail, and she scuttled through the rocks as quickly as she could.

  Robert looked up from the book in his lap. “Like a herd of thundering elephants. Were you trying to sneak up on me?”

  Julie ignored his teasing. “How long have you been here?”

  “Just got back from work.”

  “Then Karin could have done it after lunch.” She sent a worried glance around the cave.

  He shut his book. “Sit down and tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s Karin. One of Uncle Nate’s small totem poles is missing, and I’m pretty sure she took it last night. Remember I told you how I got blamed for taking the mask she put in my drawer?”

  “Sure.”

  “You know how she got mad when you wouldn’t arrange for her to see the Old One?” Julie said. “I wonder if she took the totem pole and hid it in here somewhere, so you’d get in trouble with Uncle Nate and maybe the police, too.”

  She paused to think. “She wouldn’t put it in your house down in the village, would she?”

  Robert frowned. “She wouldn’t dare go to the village, but I’m sure she’s explored The Spill and knows about this cave. And she knows I work in the afternoons.”

  He stacked up his books. “Let’s see what we can find.”

  The cave was shallow, and there weren’t many hiding places, even for a small totem pole.

  Julie poked around on the rough stone floor and behind the pile of firewood. She searched the bookshelves. Robert checked the stone ledges all the way to the back and shone his flashlight into the crevices in the ceiling.

  “I guess not,” she said at last. “I’d better leave. It’s near supper time, and I don’t want to have to explain anything to Aunt Myra.”

  All the way back up the beach, she asked herself: What would Karin have done with it?

  As she neared the Fletchers’ dock, she realized that she wouldn’t be able to disappear into her room because Stan and Karin sat on the steps, talking.

  Stan waved, and Julie strolled over to see what he wanted.

  “Hi,” he said. “Just came down to remind you two about the bike trip we’re planning for tomorrow.”

  “Who’s we?” she asked. “And where are you going?”

  “A bunch of kids from church,” he said. “We’re going over to Chemainus on the Sea Star, maybe bike down to Victoria and back.”

  “It’s a pretty road,” she said, and hesitated, remembering how awkward she’d felt with the teens at church.

  “My brother’s going too,” Stan said, “so he needs his bike, but I could ask around and borrow another one for you.”

  “Maybe Cousin Julie’s not up to such a long trip,” Karin said.

  Julie shrugged off the remark, and a plan began to form in her mind.

  She smiled at Stan. “I don’t think I’ll go this time. Thanks for asking me.” She turned to leave, and paused. “By the way, is Miss Taylor still around, working on that important article?”

  “Sure is! She’s going strong. She rented a boat and chugs off exploring by herself these days. Keeps asking hundreds of questions.”

  Julie laughed, remembering the writer’s enthusiasm. “I was just curious.”

  She walked farther down the beach to consider her plan. If the totem pole wasn’t in Robert’s cave, Karin must still have it, waiting for a chance to hide it there. Tomorrow, when Karin was away, she could look for it in her room.

  She stooped to pick up a white feather. Unless Karin hadn’t taken it after all. In that case, the thief might come back tonight to steal another piece of the collection. Would he dare?

  The next morning, Julie had to admit that she’d slept so deeply, she wouldn’t have noticed a herd of thundering elephants—to borrow Robert’s expression—go up the stairs.

  At breakfast there was no mention of anything else missing, but Uncle Nate looked as if he had worked all night. His eyes were red-rimmed and his face was creased with tired lines.

  Karin left for the bike trip before Julie had finished her breakfast, and the house was peaceful again. Aunt Myra poured herself another cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen counter across from Julie, who was spreading marmalade on one last piece of toast.

  Her aunt spoke hesitantly. “I apologize for accusing you, yesterday. It’s just that I was hoping it was some prank, and now I’m afraid it is not.” The delicate teacup tre
mbled in her thin, veined hand.

  “You mean a thief might have taken it?”

  Aunt Myra nodded. Julie saw the alarm in her eyes and felt sorry for this woman with the careworn face. She kept her company for a while, and helped with the dusting, and finally wandered down to the beach with Siem.

  She gazed across the ocean in the direction of Vancouver Island. The Sea Star would be almost at Chemainus by now. The kids would all be chattering together and having a good time. She swallowed back a lump of loneliness. It seemed as if the people on the island went biking a lot.

  Too bad she didn’t have her bike from home. But what use would it be after all? Nothing had changed. She was still going to leave when Dad came—tomorrow.

  She turned back toward the house, remembering her plan to search Karin’s room. Yesterday, it seemed like a good idea, but this morning when she asked the Lord to help her, she felt uneasy.

  Should she? Or not?

  She stopped to watch as Uncle Nate ran down the steps and plunged into the ocean. He swam rapidly for several yards and rolled over to romp with Siem, who paddled after him. When he waded ashore, he glanced at her in surprise.

  “I thought all you kids were off on a bike trip today,” he said, swiftly toweling his dark hair.

  After Julie lamely explained about not having a bike, her uncle gave her a searching look, but he said nothing more, and a minute later, bounded up the steps to the house.

  Julie followed, and heard him tell Aunt Myra not to let anyone disturb him—he’d have a sandwich in his study for lunch.

  After lunch, she wandered outdoors and stood, undecided, on the steps. Should she wait until later, when Aunt Myra was napping, to go into Karin’s room? Again she felt that odd reluctance. Well, okay. She really shouldn’t go sneaking into someone else’s room, even if that someone was Karin.

  An owl hooted softly in the clump of cedar trees across from where she stood. An owl at this time of day? Or was it Robert, trying to get her attention?

  Just in case, she took the path into the woods, and she wasn’t surprised to see Robert step from behind a tree.

  “I heard your call,” she said. “What happened?”