Cold as Ice

  Nancy tucked the museum label in her pocket, then moved over to the door and pulled on it. As she had expected, it was locked tight. She pulled harder, but still it didn’t budge. She thought of yelling for help but didn’t think that it would do any good. The shed was pretty isolated, and she doubted that many people would be strolling down to the boat house on a winter evening.

  She shone her penlight around the shed again. No windows. Now she had to find some tools to force the door open. Her penlight revealed a battered metal toolbox on a shelf. Before Nancy checked it out, she paused to think. Where were the hinges? On the inside or the outside? They had to be on the inside because the door opened into the shed. That meant she could remove the pins in the hinges and walk out.

  She shone her light on the doorframe. The hinges were there, worn and rusty. If Nancy could slip out the pins, she’d be free.

  Going over to the right-hand door, she tugged at the pin of the upper hinge. To her surprise, it slid free easily. The pin on the bottom hinge, however, was more stubborn. She pulled and pulled, but it refused to budge. Finally she took a hammer from the toolbox. Banging hard, she managed to force the second pin up and out of the hinge.

  She stood up, took a deep breath, and then pushed at the edge of the right door. For one frustrating moment it didn’t move. Then, with a loud screech, it swung out just enough for Nancy to squeeze through.

  The chilly evening air felt wonderful in her lungs after the stale, gasoline smell of the shed. She took out her penlight and shone the small beam of light in front of the shed. A short length of lumber was jammed through the handles of the two doors.

  The person who followed her had tried to trap her inside the shed.

  Nancy took a last look at the shed, and her penlight shone on a tiny flash of color. She bent down to look. Caught in the edge of the door was a piece of bright orange yarn. She tucked the yarn into her pocket along with the scrap of paper.

  Nancy zipped the pocket closed. She shone her light on her watch and gasped. In less than twenty minutes she was supposed to meet the others. She took off at a fast jog up the lane toward the dorm.

  As she entered the dorm, Nancy passed a bank of telephone booths. She made a quick decision to call Sergeant Balsam and tell him about the gas can and the label. Despite his negative attitude toward amateur detectives, she still felt that it was important to cooperate with the police.

  “What is it, Ms. Drew?” the sergeant asked brusquely.

  “I think I found where the gasoline came from and why your searchers missed that jacket earlier,” she said. She told him what she had found in the shed.

  “My officers spotted that gas can this afternoon,” he replied, sounding bored. “It belongs there. No reason to think it has any connection with the arson attempt.”

  Nancy sighed with frustration. “Did they check how much gasoline was in it? Because I’ll bet that a lot of it was poured over the jacket.”

  “Pure guesswork, Ms. Drew,” the sergeant replied. “That’s one thing people who read detective stories don’t understand. Real police work is mostly spadework, not guesswork.”

  “Does that mean that they didn’t check the level of gas in the can?” she asked.

  “I’m sure they didn’t touch it,” he said. “Just a minute, I’ll check the report. . . . Yeah, they spotted it on the shelf and left it there.”

  “But, Sergeant,” Nancy persisted. “When I found it, it was on the ground. Don’t you see? Somebody must have moved it!”

  Sergeant Balsam sighed loudly into the receiver. “Okay, Ms. Drew,” he said. “I’ll send someone around tomorrow morning to take a look.”

  His tone made it clear that he was humoring her. Why wouldn’t he take her seriously? “What about the museum label?” she asked.

  “Well, Ms. Drew, when my officer comes around tomorrow, you give him your piece of paper, too, and we’ll see if it really is what you say. Any old piece of paper can look a lot like a label.”

  Nancy decided there was no point telling him about being shut in the shed—or about the yarn. He would probably think that she was making up the whole episode.

  “All right, Sergeant Balsam,” she said. “Thanks for your help.” To herself, she added, Thanks for nothing!

  When Nancy left the phone booth, she ran into Bess and George, who were already dressed and waiting in the entrance area of the dorm.

  “Nancy! What took you so long?” Bess exclaimed.

  “Here’s the key,” said George, handing it to her. “You’d better hurry, though. The guys will be here any second.”

  “Tell me about it,” Nancy said, rushing past them. “I’ll explain everything after I’m dressed,” she called over her shoulder.

  When Nancy got upstairs, she found Susan sitting at her desk, writing a letter. Seeing Nancy, she smiled and said, “Hi. Did you see Bess and George? They just left a minute ago.”

  Nancy nodded. “They’re waiting for me. I have to make the fastest change in history!”

  Susan laughed, her chin-length hair bouncing around her face. “How are you liking Winter Carnival so far?” she asked.

  “Well, it certainly hasn’t been dull,” Nancy said.

  “No, I guess not! First the fire at the boat house, then the museum robbery. You can bet Emerson will make the front page of all the major newspapers. Some of us who work at the museum were wondering if it was all part of a publicity stunt.”

  Nancy looked at her in surprise. “You’re not serious, are you?”

  “No, of course not,” Susan said, shaking her head. “The last thing a museum wants is to have people think its security is weak. Who’d lend it things to display? But I’m predicting crowds tomorrow, just the same.”

  Nancy crossed to the closet and took out the dress she was planning to wear to dinner. It was a scoop-necked minidress in rich red silk with a red flowered pattern in it.

  “I love that dress,” Susan said as Nancy slipped it on. “The color is great with your hair.”

  “Thanks.” Nancy found the bracelet that Ned had given her for her birthday and clasped it on her right wrist. “Oh, Susan,” she said, “I almost forgot to warn you. I’m planning to get up very early tomorrow morning. Ned and I have a skating date before breakfast. I’ll do my best not to disturb you, but my travel alarm is pretty loud.”

  “No problem,” Susan said. “I’m an early riser myself. Will you be gone all evening?”

  “I’m not sure,” Nancy said, grabbing her coat. “We’re going out to dinner, but I don’t know what’s on after that.”

  Nancy was about to ask Susan if she wanted to join them when she remembered the run-in between Rob and Susan’s new boyfriend earlier that afternoon.

  As if Susan had read her thoughts, she said, “Urn, Nancy, about that fight this afternoon . . . I’m sorry if Greg was rude. He’s not such a bad guy, really, but he’s never really liked Rob very much.”

  That was the understatement of the year, Nancy thought to herself. The question was, did Greg hate Rob enough to set him up for the jewel theft? “At least they didn’t actually throw any punches,” Nancy said. “Listen, I have to run—”

  “Okay. You have your key. Have fun.”

  • • •

  On the way to the restaurant, Nancy told the others about what had happened at the shed. “Anyway,” she concluded, “one of the officers is going to come see me sometime tomorrow. Maybe I’ll finally be able to convince them that Rob is being framed.”

  “I sure hope so,” Rob said.

  “Hey,” Ned said. “You never told us what the police asked you at the library.”

  Rob shrugged. “The same old stuff. They kept telling me they think I stole the jewels, and I kept telling them I didn’t.”

  La Fleur-de-Lis was just a block from the edge of campus. Jerry gave his name to the headwaiter, who said in an accented voice, “Would you mind waiting a few moments, Monsieur McEntee? Your table is almost ready.” He showed them to a curved bench in
a little alcove. A low wall topped by potted plants separated it from the dining room, which was decorated to look like a small French inn.

  Nancy sat down on the bench. On the other side of the low wall, just behind her head, two men were speaking, and she was distracted by their conversation. One of the voices sounded familiar, but Nancy couldn’t quite place it.

  “We’d like to make a major move into sporting goods,” the familiar voice was saying. “It’s a good fit with our other activities.”

  “I don’t know,” the other man said. “I know my customers. One of the reasons they come to my store is that I know them and their kids. They’re willing to pay a premium for personal attention, and they’ll go elsewhere if they don’t get it. I just can’t become part of a chain.” The man sounded unhappy and defensive.

  “Look,” the first man said, “you know what happens to people who stand in the way of progress. They get flattened. Of course, I might consider calling the deal off, if someone comes through with something.”

  “Hey, Nancy.” She blinked as Jerry tapped her on the arm. “Are you still with us? You can forget about those stolen jewels for one evening, can’t you?”

  “And one morning,” Ned added. “Don’t forget we’ve got a skating date first thing tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I remember,” Nancy assured him.

  “You’ll have a lot of fun,” Bess said with a grin. “You’ll be freezing your nose and toes down at the lake, while we’re suffering through a warm, delicious breakfast.”

  Nancy groaned dramatically, then became silent as she realized that the conversation behind her had taken a very interesting turn. The men were now talking about the jewel theft!

  “A terrible thing,” the one with the familiar voice was saying. “I’m happy, of course, that I didn’t lose anything, but it’s a blow to the museum’s reputation. If the jewels aren’t recovered immediately, the museum won’t attract other traveling exhibitions.”

  Just as Nancy realized whose voice she was listening to, the headwaiter reappeared. “Monsieur McEntee?” he said. “Your table is ready. If you would follow me?”

  As she stood up, Nancy glanced over the row of potted plants. Sure enough, she found herself looking straight at William Whorf—and he was returning her gaze. Apparently he recognized her because he gave her a nod. Nancy barely had the presence of mind to smile. William Whorf, she thought. The diamond ring and stickpin he had been wearing at the museum opening—the museum director saying that Whorf was an avid collector of famous jewels—a new theory hit Nancy with the force of a Mack truck.

  What if Whorf had stolen the empress’s jewels to add to his private collection?

  Chapter

  Ten

  NANCY’S HEAD WAS REELING as the headwaiter led their group to a table near the front of the restaurant. As she passed the table where Whorf and his companion were sitting, Nancy quickly studied the other man. He was no one she had ever met—she was sure of that—but somehow he, too, seemed familiar.

  She racked her brain, but whatever the connection was, it kept slipping away from her. Whoever he was, it sounded as if Whorf was trying to pressure him into some kind of deal.

  Nancy shook her head, pushing their conversation out of her mind and turning her attention to the long list of intriguing dishes on the menu. But she was so distracted that she barely tasted her sole amandine or heard the conversation at the table. It was more important than ever that she talk to Whorf. But since she couldn’t do anything about it now, she decided to relax and enjoy the rest of her dinner.

  “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Bess exclaimed, as she polished off the last bit of her filet mignon with béarnaise sauce.

  When they had finished their entrees, the waiter brought them the dessert menu. “Oooh, they have profiteroles,” said Bess. “I had them once and nearly died! Imagine, a plateful of tiny pastries like cream puffs but filled with ice cream and covered with hot chocolate sauce.”

  “Imagine an extra five zillion calories,” George said. “I think I’ll just have the fruit cup.”

  “Hey,” Jerry said, “how often do you come to Winter Carnival? I say we have profiteroles all around!”

  George shook her head. “Not for me, thanks.”

  “Nor me,” Nancy said. “I’ll just share Bess’s.” She laughed at her friend’s stricken look.

  A light snow was starting to fall when they left the restaurant. The flakes glistened as they drifted past the street lamps. “This is a magical night,” Nancy said. “If it weren’t so late, I’d love to take a long walk through the snow.”

  Ned gave her a mysterious look. “I have a better idea,” he said, taking her arm. “A little surprise for everybody.”

  He led them back to Emerson Hall, an administration building that was the original home of the college. As they approached the building, Nancy heard the high-pitched sound of tiny bells and guessed Ned’s surprise.

  There in front of the hall was a horse-drawn sleigh of red and green with gold trim. The driver, who was wearing a long black cloak and a top hat, got down from his seat to help them in. There were two wide seats, both facing forward.

  Jerry turned to Ned. “Why don’t we all scrunch into the front seat and let you and Nancy have the rear one? Is that okay?”

  “Sure,” Ned agreed. “But will you have enough room?”

  “If we don’t, that’s part of the fun,” Jerry replied. He grinned at Bess, who blushed.

  Nancy climbed up into the rear seat and sat down close to Ned. “What a wonderful idea this was,” she murmured, nestling her head against his shoulder. She straightened up to let the driver cover their legs and feet with a plaid blanket of thick, warm wool, then settled back again.

  “Does anybody know what the temperature is?” Bess asked.

  Jerry wet his finger and held it up. “Below freezing,” he said.

  “I already knew that,” Bess protested. “Say, your hands must be cold. Don’t you have gloves?”

  “Sure, lots of them,” he replied. “And they’re all back at the frat house.”

  The driver climbed into his seat and announced, “Here we go.” He shook the reins, and the horse tossed its head and began to pull. As the sleigh moved off into the night, the bells sewn to its harness rang out merrily.

  Ned leaned forward and said to the others, “I asked the driver to take us once around College Woods. It should be very pretty just now.”

  “The whole campus is beautiful,” George said. “Too bad we’re here for only two more days.”

  “You can always come back,” Rob said. Then he, too, sat back to enjoy the ride. Glimpsing the warm look he gave George, Nancy decided that Bess and Jerry weren’t the only ones who were getting along well.

  As they turned onto one of the fire lanes that led through College Woods, Bess said, “It’s so picture-perfect. I know—why don’t we sing something? Any ideas?”

  Jerry chuckled. “I hate to mention it,” he said, “but this is ‘a one-horse open sleigh.’ Ho, ho, ho. ‘Jingle Bells’ and all that.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Rob said.

  “No way am I singing ‘Jingle Bells,’ ” George said. “There are limits.”

  Bess turned to her cousin. “Aw, come on.” She began to launch into song, and Jerry joined in. Nancy noticed that despite George’s grumbling, she and Rob soon were singing, too.

  Nancy tilted her head up and whispered into Ned’s ear, “What do you say we skip the song?”

  “Good idea,” he whispered back, tightening his arm around her. Then his lips met hers, and she forgot about everything except how wonderful it felt to be with Ned.

  Too soon, the sleigh was pulling up in front of Emerson Hall again. Two couples were waiting on the steps for the sleigh. As Nancy climbed down, she saw that one of the couples was Susan and Greg. She glanced nervously over at Rob. Would he and Greg get into another argument? But Rob was in the middle of an intense conversation with George. Either he
didn’t notice Greg and Susan or he was doing a good job of pretending not to see them.

  As Susan passed Nancy on her way to the sleigh, she smiled and asked, “How did you like the ride?”

  “It was great,” Nancy replied. “Cold but great.”

  “Here, take this back, so you won’t freeze,” Greg said, wrapping his orange and purple muffler around Susan’s neck. She settled her chin into the wool muffler, then looked at Nancy again. “You’re not still planning to go skating early in the morning, are you?” she asked.

  “Sure, it’ll be fun,” Nancy said.

  Before Susan could respond, the sleigh driver shook the reins. The horse gave a snort and a faint whinny and started down the lane.

  After walking back to the dorm, Nancy, Bess, and George said good night to the guys and then turned in for the night. As Nancy drifted off to sleep, the image of Whorf and his companion kept swirling in her mind, and she resolved once again to try to talk to him the next day.

  • • •

  The brrrring! of Nancy’s travel alarm brought her up out of a deep sleep. She pushed back the covers, sat up, and reached for her penlight on the floor next to the bed. Moving as silently as possible so as not to wake the others, she found her toilet kit and towel and started to tiptoe toward the door. Bess and George were sound asleep in their sleeping bags, but Susan was already up and gone. She hadn’t been kidding when she told Nancy she was an early riser. It was only six o’clock!

  By the time she was dressed and ready, Ned was downstairs waiting. He gave her a goodmorning kiss, then handed her a cardboard container of cocoa. “I stopped by the all-night diner on the way over,” he explained.

  Nancy lifted the lid and took a sip of cocoa. “This is perfect,” she said.

  “It’s going to be a beautiful day,” Ned said, zipping up his parka. “Clear and crisp. Let’s not waste a moment of it.”

  “You’re right,” Nancy replied, taking Ned’s arm. “It is a beautiful day.”