Peril at Granite Peak

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Got him!” Frank said, slinging the guy’s other arm over his shoulder.

  Working together, he and Cody rushed the man toward the door. I led the way, shouting for Chet to open wide. Blizz raced back and forth, barking.

  It was only when we were all safely inside, with Rick shoving the door shut, that we all got a good look at the guy we’d just rescued.

  My mouth dropped open as I recognized him.

  “Stanley!” I blurted out.

  CLOSE CALL

  7

  FRANK

  JOE SOUNDED STUNNED AS HE said Stanley’s name. I knew how he felt.

  Stanley’s teeth were chattering, and his face was very pale. He had to be at least half-frozen despite his coat and hat.

  “Are you all right?” I asked him.

  “What were you doing out there?” Rick demanded at the same time.

  “You okay, dude?” Chet asked Cody, who nodded. Blizzard shook the snow off her thick coat and then danced around all of us, letting out an occasional bark.

  Meanwhile doors were opening up and down the hall as the commotion woke people. Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher were among the first to arrive.

  “What’s going on out here?” Mrs. Gallagher asked, tying her robe shut as she hurried over to Cody. Then she saw Stanley and gasped. “Oh, my! What happened to you?”

  Stanley’s teeth were still chattering, but his face was already returning to its normal sallow shade. “I could have f-f-frozen to d-d-death!” he exclaimed. “I’ve b-b-been locked out there for hours!”

  A gasp went up from the people gathered around us. Mrs. Gallagher rushed back into her room and returned with a blanket, which she threw around Stanley.

  Meanwhile Blizzard perked up her ears and bounded down the hall, wagging her tail. Josie had just emerged from her room with her little dog clutched in her arms. As I watched the big dog and little dog touch noses, I realized Toy Toy wasn’t a Chihuahua after all—he was a poodle. But I wasn’t too concerned about that at the moment.

  “Oh, you poor man!” The lodge’s head chef, a heavyset woman with a beet-red face, stared at Stanley. “You must be absolutely frozen!”

  “Yes. But how did you get outside in the first place?” Mr. Gallagher sounded confused.

  Stanley turned to glare at Josie. “I only intended to step outside for a moment,” he said. “Someone failed to empty the wastebasket in my room, and I couldn’t sleep from the smell of my old banana peel rotting away in there. I figured there had to be a Dumpster out there somewhere.” He waved a hand in the vague direction of the door. “But I couldn’t find one, and when I tried to come back in, the door was locked!”

  “Oh, dear,” someone said.

  I glanced around. It was Mrs. Richmond. She and her husband had just emerged from the back stairwell, both of them wrapped in fluffy white robes with the Granite Peak Lodge logo on them. Clearly the noise had carried from the employees’ quarters up to at least some of the second-floor guest rooms.

  “The door must lock automatically, eh?” Nate Katz spoke up. He was right behind the Richmonds, dressed in sweatpants, a T-shirt, and bare feet, though his wife was nowhere in sight.

  Rick frowned. “No,” he said. “This door doesn’t do that—it’s an emergency exit. It can only be locked with a key.”

  “Who has the key?” I asked.

  Rick shrugged. “We all do. There’s a master key that works most of the door locks around here.”

  “That’s right. Everyone who works here has a copy of the key,” Mr. Gallagher confirmed, turning to his staff. “So did any of you lock this door tonight?”

  All the employees present shook their heads. Stanley frowned. “Well, I got locked out there somehow,” he insisted, letting out a sudden shiver.

  Mrs. Gallagher tut-tutted. “Enough talking,” she said, putting an arm around Stanley. “Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

  As she bustled him off down the hall, Stanley was still complaining. Mr. Gallagher sighed and rubbed his beard as he watched them go. There was a worried crease in his forehead, and I could guess what he was thinking. Why did this have to happen to Stanley Wright of all people?

  “All right, everyone,” Mr. Gallagher said. “Go on back to bed. We’ll take care of this and update everyone in the morning.”

  People started drifting back toward their rooms. I stepped over to Cody. “Nice work out there, you two,” I said, patting Blizzard on the head. “Stanley might not seem very grateful right now, but I’m sure he’ll realize he owes you his life.”

  “I wouldn’t have even known he was out there if you guys hadn’t sounded the alarm,” Cody said. “Anyway, Blizz is the one who found him.”

  “Yeah.” I shot Joe a proud glance. He might seem like kind of a spaz most of the time, but once in a while my brother really comes through. “That was good thinking, running for Blizz.”

  “I’m just glad she was here.” Joe shrugged modestly. “Come on, might as well try to get some sleep.”

  But when he, Chet, and I reached our suite, none of us were feeling sleepy. We sprawled on Chet’s bed, talking about what had just happened.

  “It must have been an accident, right?” Chet said.

  Joe shrugged. “Rick said that door shouldn’t lock unless someone locks it,” he reminded us.

  “Yeah.” I’d been thinking about that. “He was awfully quick to speak up about it, actually.”

  “What are you saying?” Joe raised one eyebrow. “You think Rick locked Stanley out there?”

  “Not on purpose.” I picked at a loose thread on the bedspread. “I imagine it was an honest mistake. He was awfully worried about doors blowing open earlier, remember? He might’ve locked that one just in case the wind picked up even more.”

  “So why didn’t he say so?” Chet wondered.

  “Maybe he was afraid he’d be blamed—might be afraid of losing his job over it or something.” I chewed my lower lip, thinking it over. “We don’t know anything about him or his history here, after all.”

  Chet looked troubled. “Then again, maybe it wasn’t an accident,” he said. “Did you guys notice that Rick was still dressed just now?”

  Come to think of it, I had. “So what?” I said. “It’s not that late. Some people are night owls. Or maybe he was supposed to stay up and keep an eye on things tonight because of the storm.”

  “Maybe,” Joe said. “Still, if we were investigating this incident—and I’m not saying we are—I’d probably have to put Mr. Rick Ferguson on the suspect list.”

  “I’d put Stanley on it too,” Chet said. “It’s pretty weird how all the mysterious stuff happens to him, right? Besides, the guy is just a jerk, and he complains about everything.”

  Joe grinned. “You think he locked himself out in the snow to die? Yeah, that would give him something to complain about, all right.”

  “Whatever.” I stifled a yawn, still turning everything that had happened over in my head. “For all we know, it could’ve been Josie who locked him out there.”

  “Josie?” Chet echoed. “How do you figure?”

  “I’m just kidding, mostly,” I said. “It’s just that she seems really worried about losing her job. Maybe she thought all of Stanley’s complaining would make business even worse. Or something.”

  Joe snorted. “Bro, I think your brain’s already asleep, even if the rest of you isn’t.”

  “Sleep.” Chet rolled over and yawned. “Yeah, that’s starting to sound good.”

  I had to agree. “Come on, Joe, let’s go back to our room.” Chet’s yawn was contagious, and my mouth stretched open so wide I was afraid my head would crack in two. “We can worry about all this in the morning.”

  • • •

  In the morning the storm was still going strong. The wind battered the windows, swirling the snow around so much it was impossible to see more than a few feet. But the lodge was warm and cozy. Joe, Chet, and I got dressed and followed the enticing scents of coffee and bacon to the di
ning room.

  The Richmonds were sitting over near the kitchen door, making a racket as usual. The honeymooners were at a table for two near the entrance. They smiled at us as we passed before going back to making moony eyes at each other.

  Poppy was sitting by herself nearby, sipping coffee and typing on a laptop. When she spotted us, she shut the computer and waved us over.

  “So what happened last night?” she demanded before we could say a word. “I can’t believe I slept through the whole thing!”

  Joe flopped into a chair and reached for the coffeepot in the middle of the table. “What have you heard so far?”

  “Not much,” she said. “I just got here. But one of the Richmond kids said someone almost got turned into a snowman last night, and the dog rescued him?” She grinned. “What’s the real story?”

  The honeymooners heard her and looked up, and Nate leaned closer. “That’s pretty much it, actually. Stanley Wright accidentally locked himself out in the blizzard, and by the time Cody’s dog tracked him down, he was half-frozen. Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving guy.”

  “Nate!” his wife exclaimed, sounding horrified.

  “Sorry.” Shooting us a sheepish look, Nate returned his attention to his own table.

  “Wow.” Poppy turned to us. “Is all that true?”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “I happened to wake up around midnight and spotted Stanley through the window.” He shrugged. “Well, I didn’t know it was him at the time. But we ran down and got Cody and Blizz to get out there and take a look, and the rest is history.”

  Poppy looked impressed, and I could tell Joe was eating it up. “I can’t believe I missed the whole thing,” she said. “Sounds like I was the only one. I’m a pretty sound sleeper.” She leaned forward. “So was Stanley okay? How’d the Gallaghers react when they found out?”

  “He seemed okay to me,” Chet said. “We haven’t seen him since—”

  “Excuse me,” Poppy said suddenly, cutting him off. “I just remembered I, um, have to go. Sorry.”

  She leaped to her feet, grabbed her laptop, and raced away, disappearing through the door leading into the side hallway, where the lodge’s small gift shop, public restrooms, and various other amenities were located. I stared after her in surprise.

  “That was weird,” I said.

  Chet shrugged. “Maybe she really, really felt like shopping. Or needed to use the bathroom.”

  Joe rolled his eyes. “You really don’t know anything about girls, do you, dude?”

  “Never mind that.” I’d just noticed Josie rushing toward us, Toy Toy clutched in her arms. She must have come in from the lobby while we were focused on Poppy’s departure.

  “Have you guys seen Stanley?” Josie blurted out. “He hasn’t shown up here, has he?”

  Joe shrugged. “Not that we know of. But we just got here ourselves.”

  “Why? Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “I just want to make sure he’s all right.” Josie bit her lip, looking anxious. “You know—after last night. I’m sure he’s very upset.”

  Nate leaned over again from his table. “Are you talking about Stanley? I saw him a few minutes ago out in the lobby, complaining to Mr. Gallagher about something.” He rolled his eyes. “In other words, he seems to be back to his usual self.”

  Joe let out a snort of laughter, and Chet grinned. But Cassie gave her husband a disapproving poke in the shoulder, and Josie just frowned.

  Meanwhile, I tried to add cream to my coffee and discovered the pitcher was empty. “Be right back,” I said, standing up. Yeah, I could have asked Josie to go get me some. But she seemed a little distracted right now. Besides, she already had enough to do—there only seemed to be maybe half a dozen employees left on the property other than the Gallaghers.

  On the way to the kitchen, I passed the Richmonds’ table. One of the kids appeared to be having a meltdown.

  “I didn’t lose them!” the little boy was insisting, his face bright red as he glared at his parents. “I left them by the fire to dry, and someone stealed them!”

  “You mean stole them.” Mrs. Gallagher sighed. “And nobody stole your boots, kiddo. I promise. Who would do that?”

  I paused by the table. “Lost boots, huh?” I said with a friendly smile. I hadn’t forgotten that the Richmonds had been willing to let us cram into their already crowded van. That made me like them. “I’ll keep an eye out for them, buddy. What do they look like?”

  “They’re red.” The little boy gave me a slightly suspicious look. “And they didn’t get lost. They got stoleden!”

  I chuckled and traded an amused look with the boy’s parents. “Well, maybe you can ask the Gallaghers to make an announcement,” I suggested. “I’m sure they’ll be able to help you solve the mystery.”

  “Thanks.” Mr. Richmond smiled and winked. “We’ll do that.”

  I moved on to the coffee station outside the kitchen. I turned back toward the table just in time to see Stanley march into the dining room. He didn’t look happy.

  “Be careful, everyone,” he announced loudly. “Don’t go anywhere alone unless you want what happened to me to happen to you, too.” He scowled and shook his fist. “This place is a deathtrap!”

  BREAKING THE RULES

  8

  JOE

  I ROLLED MY EYES AT Stanley’s Melodramatic announcement. But Frank was frowning as he returned to our table, and Chet looked worried.

  “What a jerk,” Chet said as Mrs. Gallagher appeared and started talking soothingly to Stanley while steering him toward the coffee station.

  “Yeah, he’s a charmer all right.” Frank sat down and poured milk into his coffee. “I wouldn’t pay any attention to him.”

  Chet still looked upset. “Maybe you wouldn’t, but what if other people do? One jerk like Stanley could be all it takes to ruin the Gallaghers’ business!”

  I was about to say that Chet was crazy to worry about that. Then I remembered something.

  “Josie made it sound like this place is in more serious financial trouble than we realized,” I mused.

  “Hmm, I suppose you’re right,” Frank said. “In which case, maybe Chet’s got a point. The last thing the Gallaghers need is for Stanley to start spreading rumors all over the Internet about this place.”

  Chet looked troubled. “Are they really rumors, though? He did almost freeze out there last night.”

  “And he could have been injured on that mismarked ski trail the other day,” I added. “Face it, some weird stuff has happened to Stanley Wright here.”

  “I know.” Chet bit his lip, looking from me to Frank and back again. “That’s why . . .” He hesitated.

  Frank sipped his coffee. “What?”

  “What if it’s not just bad luck?” Chet leaned forward. “What if someone at the lodge is out to get Stanley?” He shot a slightly nervous look over at Nate, who was paying no attention to us whatsoever as he stared deeply into Cassie’s eyes. Not that I blamed him. If I was married to a woman like that, I’d never look at anything else either.

  But never mind that. “So what are you saying?” I asked Chet.

  “I’m saying maybe you guys could look into it—just in case.” He stared at us hopefully. “Please?”

  “You mean, like, investigate?” I said.

  “Whoa,” Frank said at the same time. “We’re trying to stay away from that kind of thing, remember?”

  “I know. But I won’t tell.” Chet sighed. “I just want to help Cody if I can. He’s hiding it pretty well, but I can tell he’s really worried about this place.”

  I glanced at Frank. “What do you think, bro? Couldn’t hurt to check it out. It’s not like we have much else to do until the weather clears.”

  “I guess so,” Frank agreed slowly.

  Chet grinned with relief. “Thanks, you guys! Come on, let’s go somewhere more private and figure out how to get started.”

  “Okay.” I stood and grabbed my coffee. “But o
nly if we can swing by the buffet table on the way. I need some food for thought.”

  It was surprisingly difficult to find a private spot in the lodge. Mr. Gallagher was in the lobby, one of the maids was vacuuming the carpet in the hallway near the side door, and Poppy was poking around in the magazine racks in the library alcove near the gift shop.

  Finally we settled in the small lounge that contained the lodge’s indoor hot tub. We had a great view of the storm from there through the wall of windows overlooking the bunny slope. Not that we could see the bunny slope. Snow was coming down so fast the whole scene looked like one of those modern art paintings that’s all one color. In this case, white.

  “Wow.” Chet peered out. “We’re not getting out of here anytime soon, are we?”

  Frank sat down and took a bite of the bagel he’d grabbed from the buffet. “It’ll probably be another twenty-four hours at least.”

  “That gives us plenty of time to solve the mystery.” Chet sank onto the leather couch.

  “If there even is a mystery here,” I said. “Well, other than the mystery of how much bad luck one dude can have in a week.”

  “Yeah. But it’s not too hard to imagine someone might have it out for Stanley, right?” Chet said.

  Frank shrugged. “True. He’s pretty rude. I can’t imagine he’s a favorite of the staff by this point.”

  “Or anyone else, either.” I stared at my bacon-and-egg biscuit, thinking back to Stanley’s confrontation with Nate. “Just about everyone at the lodge probably wishes he’d go away—staff and other guests alike.”

  “But is that enough of a motive for anyone to actually try to kill him?” Frank said. “Taking down the closed sign on that ski trail was dangerous. But locking Stanley out in the storm last night? I’d have to call that attempted murder.”

  “Yeah, that was pretty hardcore,” I agreed. “Then again, we really don’t know much about most of the people here. Who knows what they’re capable of?”

  Chet looked nervous. “You think someone here is, like, a hardened criminal or something?”