An Instict for Trouble

by Carolyn Keene

  They turned to face each other. Nancy could hear the music start for the next dance, but the only thing that mattered now was Ned.

  He was staring down at the floor. She was about to say something when he spoke up. “I really lost it this afternoon,” he said, his brown eyes shining. “I’m sorry. Nan. You know I didn’t mean those things I said.”

  “Of course I do,” Nancy responded. “I said things I didn’t mean, too, and I’m sorry. I really do understand the way you feel about Professor Trainey. It’s just that-“

  “It’s just that you’re too good a detective not to follow up on all the evidence you find, no matter where it leads,” he finished. “And I wouldn’t want you any different.”

  Nancy put her arms around his neck. “Oh, Ned-I’m so glad you understand.” She pulled his head down to hers, and their lips met in a kiss that lasted a long time.

  When they parted, Ned held her close and ran his fingers through her hair. “Why don’t we get our coats and go for a drive?” he said breathlessly. “It’s a beautiful night.”

  “I’d love it,” Nancy replied.

  They were walking past the alcove that held the house phones when Ned squeezed her elbow. He put his finger to his lips and pulled her back out of sight.

  “Gerry? It’s me.” Nancy recognized Profes-

  sor Trainey’s voice. She strained to make out the words.

  “Yes, I know,” she heard the professor say into the phone. “It can’t be helped. Late tomorrow night? Yes, the camp should be quiet. No junior detectives to get in our way.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Nancy heard Trainey hang up and then watched him walk away.

  Ned was slumped against the wall, his eyes filled with misery. He stared at her. “You were right about the professor all along.”

  The bitterness in his voice surprised Nancy.

  Her heart ached for him. “I’m sorry, Ned,”

  she said, slipping her arms around him. “I kept hoping it wasn’t him, but-“

  “‘Junior detectives,’” Ned spat out. “And I kept telling you how much he respected and cared about his students. He thinks we’re a joke!”

  “He must be pretty desperate,” Nancy pointed out. “I don’t think he would have gotten involved if it weren’t for his money problems. And let’s face it-if he is involved, our investigation must really be getting in his way.”

  Ned’s eyes widened. “If? Of course he’s involved. You heard what he said. He’s plan-

  ning something for tomorrow night. And he was talking to Turkower!”

  Nancy remained impassive. “I’ve got to admit, that surprises me,” she began slowly.

  “After what Gerald did today to save me, I was starting to think he was okay.”

  Ned was obviously confused, and Nancy realized that she hadn’t told him about her dip into the river. She took a deep breath and told the whole story. “Gerald pulled me out,” she concluded.

  “I just can’t believe that someone I admired so much could be involved in something so awful.” Ned shook his head. “Trainey is such a hypocrite.”

  Nancy stepped back. “Look, Ned. I don’t have any real proof against the professor, just what Brad said, so let’s not jump to conclusions. What I really need to do is catch the poachers in the act, and it sounds like I might be able to do that tomorrow night.”

  Ned brightened a little. “Are you still up for that drive?” he asked. “I know I am. I’m sick of thinking about this mess.”

  “I’ll run upstairs for my jacket,” Nancy replied.

  When she came back down dressed for the outdoors she waved goodbye to Bess, who was dancing in a square with Jack. Her friend gave her a big grin, then Nancy went out to the parking lot. It was quite chilly, and she was glad to see that Ned had put the top up.

  “Feel like looking at the moon from the shore of Yellowstone Lake,” he asked her softly as he started the Jeep.

  On an impulse Nancy leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

  He reached over and squeezed her hand.

  “Will you forgive me for being so pigheaded?”

  “I already have, Ned.”

  They’d just turned onto the parkway that ran beside the lake when Nancy said, “Ned, look. Somebody’s in trouble.”

  Parked on the opposite shoulder was a low-

  slung Italian sports car. The driver was stand-

  ing with a flashlight pointed under the raised hood.

  Ned pulled over and then carefully turned around so he could light up the sports car. He leaned out and called, “Need help?”

  The driver moving toward them was very familiar. They had both seen that face on countless posters and CDs.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Ned said to Nancy.

  Nancy studied the man’s liquid brown eyes and curly, honey-colored hair. “It is. It’s Ran-

  dy Dean!”

  “Hi there!” Randy stopped next to Ned’s door and leaned over to peer into the window.

  “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

  “You have car trouble?” Ned asked.

  The rock star shrugged. “It looks that way. I went over a big bump a while back and heard a loud thump. Then, about half a mile back, the engine started sputtering. Now it’s stopped.

  Do you know anything about cars?”

  “We both know a little,” Ned replied. “We can take a look if you’d like.”

  “Great.” Randy backed away, and Ned and Nancy got out of the Jeep. He held his hand out to Ned. “I’m Randy Dean.”

  Ned grinned. “Yeah, we figured that out. I’m Ned Nickerson and this is Nancy Drew.”

  “Hi, Nancy.” She was surprised at how personable and open Randy seemed.

  Ned reached for Randy’s flashlight, clicked it on, and peered under the hood. Nancy joined him.

  They poked around under the hood for a few minutes, then Ned said, “I don’t know what’s wrong. Let me see if I can start it.”

  Ned climbed into the driver’s seat, but when he turned the key in the ignition, the engine only coughed and sputtered.

  Nancy leaned inside and looked at the array of gauges on the dashboard. “Did you know you’re out of gas?”

  Randy frowned. “That’s impossible. I filled the tank just an hour ago.”

  Ned got down on the ground and shone the flashlight under the car. “You’ve got a leak in your fuel line,” he reported. “It must have happened when you hit that bump. All your gas has leaked out,” he said, getting up and slapping his palms against his jeans.

  Ned offered to take Randy to the hotel. The rock star transferred his luggage from the tiny trunk of the sports car to the Jeep and climbed into the backseat next to it.

  “I read a magazine article about you the other night,” Nancy said casually. “It men-

  tioned that you collect whistling marmots.”

  “I used to have quite a few of them,” Randy admitted. “They make fun pets. But I don’t collect them anymore.”

  “Why not?” Nancy asked.

  “I realized how wrong it is to take animals out of the wild,” he replied earnestly. “In fact, that’s why I’m here. I’m doing a TV program on the importance of protecting wild animals and their habitats. Would you guys like to come watch us film?”

  “We’d love to,” Nancy promptly replied.

  “Do you think I could bring a friend, too?

  She’s a big fan of yours.”

  Ned pulled into the hotel parking lot.

  “Of course you can,” Randy said. “I’ll write a note to the production crew as soon as I get upstairs. Thanks for everything. I would have had to sit out there all night.”

  “Glad we could help,” Ned replied. He gave Randy a hand carrying his luggage into the lobby while Nancy parked the Jeep.

  The square dance was still going on as Nancy and Ned found a quiet spot and settled down on a couch on the far side of the big room.

  “I keep thinking about that phone call,”<
br />
  Ned said. “You think the Turkowers are the buyers?”

  “It seems that way.”

  “What do you think they’re arranging for tomorrow night?” he asked.

  “My hunch is that Trainey’s going to turn over the marmots he’s already captured to the Turkowers.”

  Ned acted surprised. “You think the animals are still in the park?”

  “Yes, I do,” Nancy said. “If they weren’t, why would the Turkowers be hanging around?

  And I’ll bet they’re being kept somewhere fairly close to the campsite, too.”

  “So what’s our next move?”

  “We have to keep our eyes on the Turkowers and Trainey-and I’m still interested in Piker and Richard. It could be that the professor hired them to do the rough work,” she specu-

  lated. “But the main thing is, it’s obvious that this whole case is centered at your camp. We can’t hope to solve it if I’m always somewhere else. I think it’s time Bess and I move to the campsite.”

  “So you and Bess are going to camp.” Ned grinned. “I’d love to be there when you break the news to her.”

  Nancy grimaced. “Do you have any idea what we can do about equipment? We’ll need a tent and sleeping bags at least.”

  “There are outfitters in West Yellowstone and Jackson that sell camping gear. But why not ask Martin Robbins at the ranger station? I bet he could lend you what you need.”

  “Good idea,” she said.

  He put his arm around Nancy’s shoulders, and she settled back against him. “I’m glad you’re moving to the camp,” he continued softly. “Having you so near will be the only bright spot in this whole awful situation.”

  “I can’t believe that you actually met Randy Dean!” Bess exclaimed. “That’s too awesome!

  What’s he like?”

  Nancy yawned. The morning sun was streaming through the window. “Really nice, Bess. He acts like a regular guy. But you’ll have a chance to meet him,” Nancy said. “He’s staying right here in the hotel. And he invited us to come watch him making his TV special. I hope we can.”

  “What do you mean, you hope we can?”

  Bess demanded. “Wild horses couldn’t stop me!”

  Nancy smiled. “I don’t know about wild horses, but we are here on an investigation, remember.”

  Bess stared at her, aghast, then immediately brightened. “Oh, we’ll solve it in plenty of time,” she proclaimed.

  “Listen, Bess,” Nancy said as she ran a brush through her hair. “I think the missing marmots are being shipped out tonight.” She told her friend about the phone call. “I know you’re not going to like this,” she continued slowly, “but we need to move to the campsite to watch the situation more closely.”

  “Oh, no!” Bess wailed. “Leave the hotel just when Randy Dean arrives? And move into a cold tent? I’ll die!”

  “Oh, come on, where’s your sense of adven-

  ture?” Nancy asked lightly. “Besides, if I’m right that tonight is the night, it won’t be for long.”

  “Well-okay,” Bess said gloomily. “I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

  “After breakfast I’m going to head over to the ranger station to talk to Martin Robbins.

  Maybe he can assign some rangers to patrol the campsite tonight. Ned also thought he might have a tent and a couple of sleeping bags we can borrow,” Nancy said.

  Bess dusted powder on her nose, then frowned at her image in the mirror. “What about me?” she asked.

  “I want you to track down the Turkowers,”

  Nancy said. “See if you can find out what they’re up to today. I’ll pick you up here when I come back from seeing Robbins, and we can go out to the campsite together.”

  As she walked toward her car, Nancy no-

  ticed a piece of paper tucked under the wind-

  shield wiper. It might be a circular of some sort, she thought, but she had a hunch it wasn’t. Distinctly uneasy, she unfolded the paper.

  The message was short and to the point: “Mind your own business, Nancy Drew. Mar-

  mots aren’t the only things that can disap-

  pear!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Nancy stared at the note. It had been written in large, square letters with a red marker on a piece of computer paper. It resem-

  bled the paper they were using at the campsite, but she’d have to compare it to be sure. Still, with the key to the command post missing, that hardly narrowed things down.

  She leaned against the side of the car and thought. The poachers were obviously desper-

  ate to get her off the case. They’d tried to put her out of commission twice the day before-

  and now this note. She’d planned to watch her main suspects closely, but it made her un-

  easy to think that they had their eyes on her, too.

  Nancy put the threatening note in her pock-

  et, got into the car, and started for the ranger station. As she drove, she found herself fre-

  quently checking the rearview mirror, but she didn’t see any sign that she was being followed.

  When she entered Martin Robbins’s office, he was standing at the big wall map of Yellow-

  stone with a sheaf of papers in his hand. He turned and said, “Hello, Nancy. What brings you here?”

  “I wanted to fill you in on what’s been hap-

  pening with the case,” she said, joining him at the map.

  As she recited everything, beginning with the incident at the falls and ending with the conversation she’d overheard between Trainey and Gerald Turkower, Martin’s frown deep-

  ened. “You’ve been busy. And it looks like you’re making progress flushing these charac-

  ters out.” He crossed his arms and said slowly, “But from what you say, you’ve haven’t got enough proof for me to move on.” He went behind his desk and sat down, then gestured toward a chair.

  “I know that,” Nancy said, sitting down.

  “That’s why I’m moving to the Emerson camp-

  site today. From what Trainey said on the phone, I think the missing marmots are going to be shipped out tonight, and I’m pretty sure they’re being kept someplace nearby,” she replied.

  The ranger nodded. He remained silent for a moment, then hit the desk with his fist. “I feel as if my hands are tied on this. Without more proof, I can’t justify a full-scale search of the area around the camp, but I will beef up the patrol vehicles along that stretch of the high-

  way tonight.”

  Nancy smiled slightly. “That will help. And that reminds me-there’s something else you can do for me. I was wondering if you have some camping gear I could borrow. All my friend Bess and I really need is a tent and two sleeping bags.”

  Robbins chuckled. “And a couple of air mattresses, too, believe me. Otherwise, you’ll be so sore after one night that you won’t be able to walk. Let me think. I know I have a couple of sleeping bags here, but I may have to call around to get you a tent. And anyway, I’m not sure it’s such a great idea. These people have already shown how ruthless they are.”

  “I know that,” Nancy replied grimly.

  “That’s why I have to stop them now.”

  Robbins rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Fi-

  nally he said, “Well, all right, but on one condition-you call me the second anything starts to go down. I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “I understand,” Nancy told him.

  He made a call. “One of the rangers over at Tower Junction has a tent he can lend you.

  He’ll be passing by here in half an hour, so he’ll drop it off. Okay?”

  “Great,” Nancy replied. “Thanks a lot. I guess I’ll go get Bess and drop her by the campsite, then come back.”

  She started to get up, then sank back down in her seat. “There’s one more thing. You’ve got two park maintenance men named Rich-

  ard and Piker. I saw them talking to the Turkowers. That’s just one
of the things that makes me suspicious of them. How well do you know them?”

  Martin leaned back in his chair and gazed toward the ceiling. “If you mean personally, I hardly know them at all,” he finally said. “As far as their work goes, no complaints about them.”

  Nancy looked at Martin earnestly. “I know this is slightly irregular, but could I please see their personnel files?”

  Martin frowned. “I’m sorry. Nancy. Those files are confidential.”

  “Oh, of course, I understand,” Nancy re-

  plied. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do something that’s against the rules. But you have the right to consult their files, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” Martin said.

  “And if you looked through them and no-

  ticed anything that might be important for me to know, it would be only natural to mention it, wouldn’t it?”

  A slow smile spread across his lips. “That’s so,” he said, getting up and crossing to a bank of gray metal file cabinets. He scanned the labels on the drawers, then opened one near the bottom and pulled out two olive-colored hanging file folders. “Here we are,” he said.

  “Richard Geismar and Piker Slattery.”

  He opened the first of the files and glanced through it. Next he looked at the second one.

  “That’s funny,” he said. “These two guys both grew up in Ashland, Idaho. That’s a little town about forty miles west of the park. They were bom in the same year, too.”

  He flipped back and forth between the two files. “Odd,” he continued. “Their job records are practically identical.”

  “Would you mind if I check one or two of their references?” Nancy asked. “I’d need to use your phone.”

  “I think that would be all right,” Martin said. He grabbed a scratch pad and scribbled a couple of names and addresses on it, then passed it over. “Here are the most recent references.”

  Nancy dialed, but the first number Martin gave her was disconnected. She tried the next one.

  “Hopper and Wade Construction,” a polite voice said. “May I help you?”

  Nancy put on her most professional voice.

  “I hope so. I’m calling from the National Park Service in Yellowstone.” She gave Martin an apologetic look, but he just grinned. She turned her attention back to the phone, telling the woman that Richard and Piker were look-