Cold as Ice

  “How about this,” Ned said, “the rest of the morning, we try to get more evidence to clear Rob. Then, after lunch, we tear ourselves away from the case and do something carnival-y—and that includes you, Detective Drew,” Ned added sternly.

  “How about hitting the slopes?” Jerry suggested. “It’s a good day for it.”

  Seeing their eager expressions, Nancy let out a resigned laugh. “Sounds good to me,” she said.

  • • •

  Three hours later Nancy was in Susan’s dorm room, fastening the shoulder strap of her new turquoise ski overalls. She quickly checked her reflection in the mirror. The color of her outfit made her eyes seem even more blue.

  It had taken longer than she expected to try to get in touch with Whorf. She got an answering service, and they refused to put her call through or give her his home phone number. She hadn’t made any progress at all, and now she was late to meet the rest of the gang downstairs.

  She was just reaching for her skis when Susan came in.

  “Hi,” Susan said, brightly. “Great overalls. Going skiing?”

  “Yes,” Nancy replied, smiling. “Do you want to join us?”

  “I wish I could, but I’m working at the museum all afternoon,” Susan replied.

  “Too bad. And you were up so early this morning, too. Don’t you ever get a chance to goof off and relax?”

  Susan seemed surprised by the question. She looked down, then mumbled, “Yeah—I mean, sure.”

  Nancy gave her a curious look, then remembered that everyone was still waiting for her. “Well, I’ll see you later.” Gathering up her equipment, she left the room.

  All six of them managed to squeeze themselves and their ski equipment into Jerry’s battered sedan for the half-hour drive to the ski area. At the base lodge, they put on their boots, then stacked their skis on the rack outside while they went into the lodge to buy lift tickets.

  In line, Nancy glanced through the big windows of the lodge snack bar, then did a double-take. She was staring right into the eyes of William Whorf. Whorf quickly lowered his glance, but Nancy knew he had recognized her before looking away.

  They were nearly to the ticket booth when Ned said, “Look, Rob, there’s one of your favorite people. Try to keep cool, okay?”

  Greg, Susan’s boyfriend, was just pushing off toward the chair lift.

  “The earring!” Rob exclaimed. “He must have slipped it in my pocket the other night at the student center. That’s why he wanted to pick a fight with me!”

  He made a move as if to leave the line and go after Greg, but Ned grabbed his arm. “Not now,” he said. “We’re supposed to be having fun, remember?”

  Rob grumbled but remained with the group as they got their passes and headed for the slopes. As the chair lift carried Nancy and Ned up the hill, she thought about Rob’s accusation. She was becoming more and more positive that Greg was the thief they were looking for. He was probably the one Whorf had gotten to do his dirty work. Greg certainly had a grudge. Something was nagging at her, though—some detail she couldn’t quite remember. But what?

  At the top of the slope, she wiggled her shoulders to loosen up, did a couple of knee bends, and glanced over at Ned. “Ready?” she asked.

  He nodded, and she pushed off. The snow was great, several inches of powder over a firm base, and she adjusted her line to pick up speed. Noticing a small mogul just in front of her, Nancy crouched lower, then sprang up as she swooped up it. Grinning, she felt herself become airborne.

  In a flash, Nancy realized that something was terribly wrong. Her right ski! It had come loose! In another instant she was going to hit the ground with one ski on and the other dangling at the end of the safety strap, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it!

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  NANCY GRITTED HER TEETH and gripped her ski poles tightly, preparing herself for what was sure to be a disastrous crash.

  Just in time, she positioned her right foot in back of the heel binding of her left ski and bent both knees to cushion the impact.

  She crashed into the slope, managing to stay upright for half a second before her right ski smashed to the ground and threw her off balance. The breath was knocked out of her as she hit the ground, but she didn’t think she had injured herself.

  Looking ahead, she saw that she was sliding dangerously close to the woods that edged the slope. She quickly held out her poles so that they dragged in the snow. After a flurried moment she was sitting up at the edge of the woods, rubbing a spot on her hip.

  Ned, white-faced, schussed up and stopped in a shower of snow. “Nancy, are you all right?” he cried. “What happened?”

  “Another ‘accident,’” she said grimly. She reached down for the ski that had fallen off and began to examine the binding. “I’m okay, but only because of incredible good luck. Someone must have tampered with this binding. Look, it releases at the slightest pressure!”

  Ned took the ski from her and wiggled the heel lock from side to side. “It’s loose, all right,” he confirmed. “Could it just have been badly adjusted?”

  “I had the bindings checked at the beginning of the season,” Nancy replied. “And I know they were okay a couple of weeks ago. Here, let me see if I can fix it well enough to get down the hill.”

  As she was working on the binding, Bess, George, Jerry, and Rob appeared. Ned told them what had happened.

  “Greg!” Rob exclaimed, his face becoming red with anger. “Remember? When we saw him, he was coming from the direction of the ski rack. He must have just finished sabotaging Nancy’s skis!”

  “Maybe,” Nancy said slowly. “But I have another candidate—William Whorf. He was at the base lodge, too, and he saw me leave my skis on the rack, when we went to buy tickets.

  “There,” she added, laying the ski on the ground and fitting her boot into it. She stamped the ski on the snow a few times, and it held. “That should stay on for one run. I hope there’s someone at the pro shop who can do a proper adjustment. I’m not about to let some saboteur spoil our ski date!”

  • • •

  A few hours later, as they were walking back to the parking lot, Ned said, “Do you really suspect Whorf? I talked to Frazier about him this morning, but I don’t know if I learned anything that will help. About the only new thing I found out is that his businesses have been expanding a lot in the past few years.”

  Nancy turned that over in her mind. That fit with what she’d overheard the past night. Whorf must have been trying to convince the other guy to join one of his growing business chains. Still, it didn’t help her case any.

  “That doesn’t give us much to go on,” she admitted, “but I just know he’s involved. There’s got to be some evidence I’m overlooking— something that ties him to the crimes. But what?”

  Taking off her mittens, she jammed them into the pockets of her coat in frustration. As she did so, her fingers brushed the zippered pocket and she remembered the scrap of yarn from the night before. She pulled it out and studied it.

  “Ned,” she said excitedly, turning toward him. “What do you see here?”

  He bent down to look. “It looks like a piece of orange wool,” he said.

  “All orange?”

  “Well, it’s hard to tell, but there might be a hint of bluish purple, too, up at that end.”

  “In other words, orange and purple—the Emerson College colors. Last night Greg Forsyte was wearing a wool scarf in those colors. I bet he was the one who tried to lock me in the shed!”

  “A lot of Emerson students have scarves like that,” Ned warned. “I don’t think it proves much.”

  “Maybe not,” Nancy replied.

  When they caught up to the others, who were waiting by the car, George announced, “We’ve decided to do some work on our snow sculptures after we drop off our ski stuff.” She glanced at Rob. “I know mine’s not nearly finished.”

  “Good idea,” Nancy said. While she was molding snow, she
might be able to turn over the facts and evidence in her mind. She still had the feeling there was something important that she was overlooking.

  • • •

  An hour later Nancy had all but completed her snowman, but she still hadn’t come up with anything new. Maybe you’re trying too hard, she told herself. Sometimes clues fell into place when she least expected them to. She might as well try to relax and enjoy herself.

  The dance that night was the biggest event of Winter Carnival. The three girls dressed up for the occasion. Nancy and George both wore sweater dresses, Nancy’s in blue green, and George’s in a soft brown, while Bess wore a black wool minidress with a scooped neck. They arrived at Emerson’s gym a little after nine o’clock.

  The gym had been transformed for the dance. The entrance of the huge room was decorated to look like an arctic scene. There were igloos, reindeer, seals, and even a glittering glacier.

  Bess looked around and shivered. “I feel colder here than I did outside!” she joked.

  “Let’s check out the rest of the place,” Jerry suggested.

  He took Bess’s hand and led her through the huge room, with the rest of the group following behind. The decor changed dramatically from one end to the other. The bandstand, in the center, could have come from a small town before the turn of the century. The refreshment tables, at the far end, were set up in Polynesian grass huts among tall tropical palms.

  They found a table for six. Then Ned took Nancy’s hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. When they returned, Jerry and Bess were alone at the table, chatting and laughing.

  “Where’s George?” Nancy asked.

  Jerry blinked. “George? Oh—she and Rob decided to dance,” he said, waving vaguely toward the bandstand. “I guess they aren’t back yet.”

  “Oh, listen,” Bess said. “I love this tune. Why don’t we dance, too?”

  Jerry took her hand, and they vanished into the crowd of dancers. Ned met Nancy’s gaze and started to laugh. “I’m not much good as a matchmaker, am I?” he said.

  “You did a great job—except that you got things backward,” Nancy replied with a laugh. “And, anyway, they seem to have managed to work things out themselves. As far as I can tell, everyone seems happy.”

  Ned interlaced his fingers with hers and pulled her closer. “Especially me,” he said.

  “Nancy, guess what?” George interrupted, as she and Rob came over. “Rob has promised to teach me sculling. Isn’t that great? I’ve always loved boats.”

  “It’ll have to wait until spring, of course, when the ice melts,” Rob said. A smile lit up his face. “I’m glad Coach didn’t decide to take away my key when he suspended me from crew. At least I can still go out rowing on my own.”

  Nancy stared at him. In her mind she flashed back to the fire, remembering how the fire fighters had pried open the doors to the boat house.

  “It was locked!” she exclaimed. Her friends looked at her as if she were crazy. “The boat house,” she quickly added. “It was locked. Whoever set the fire must have had a key!”

  “Don’t tell the police that,” Rob said quickly. “They’d arrest me for sure!”

  “You’re not the only one with a key, are you?” Nancy demanded.

  “No, of course not. There must be a half a dozen of us who have them, so we can go sculling at times when the boat house is locked.”

  Nancy took a deep breath. “How about Greg Forsyte?” she asked. “Does he have one?”

  Rob frowned. “Greg? I’m not sure. He’s not on the varsity crew, but one or two of the JV guys . . .” His voice died away.

  “Well?” Nancy prompted.

  “I remember,” Rob said, brightening. “Once last fall I went down to the boat house very early. It was already unlocked, and Greg was carrying out a shell. He must have had a key. Hey, there he is, right over there.”

  Nancy looked up sharply and saw Greg walking toward the refreshment area with the stride of someone who had a purpose. Some instinct made Nancy stand up, mutter, “I’ll be right back,” and take off after him.

  A blond guy carrying five paper cups of soda stepped in front of her, and she lost sight of Greg. Finally she managed to brush by him and plunge ahead.

  Where was he? There! He was heading back toward the dance floor. She hurried after him, and when he paused, she stepped behind the crowd of kids to watch.

  Greg was less than a dozen feet away—and he was talking to William Whorf! What was Whorf doing at a student dance? Greg and Whorf seemed to be very intent on their conversation. Whorf pulled a white envelope from his pocket and handed it to Greg. Greg glanced around, shoved the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket, and shook Whorf’s hand.

  From her hiding place, Nancy stared in amazement. She couldn’t be positive, but she was fairly sure she had just witnessed the payoff for the jewelry theft!

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  NANCY CONTINUED TO WATCH closely. After another brief exchange with Whorf, Greg strode off. Whorf watched him for a moment, a smug smile on his face, then strolled away. Nancy followed, careful to keep a screen of people between them to conceal her if he should look back.

  After five minutes of following him around the gym, Nancy began to wonder if she was wasting her time. Whorf didn’t seem to be going anywhere. He nodded to a few people, but he didn’t stop to talk to any of them. He seemed more interested in the decorations than anything else.

  “Hey, Nancy,” a voice called out. She caught her breath, hoping Whorf hadn’t heard and looked around. Bess was hurrying toward her with a look of concern on her face. “We were worried about you,” Bess continued, taking Nancy’s arm. “Nobody knew where you’d gone.”

  “I’m following someone,” Nancy said in an undertone. “Tell everybody I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Oh—sure. Sorry.” Bess glanced around like a bad actress in a spy movie before backing away.

  Nancy turned around again and spotted Whorf at a table on the sidelines, sitting on the edge of a chair and talking with an older couple. The man looked familiar. He was deeply tanned, and the lines around his eyes gave him the appearance of someone who was used to gazing across distances. Nancy suddenly recalled that she had seen him on the speakers’ stand at the boat house the day before. He was the crew coach. But what—?

  Nancy’s eyes widened. Whorf was pulling an envelope from his pocket, exactly like the envelope he had given to Greg. He handed it to the coach, who glanced at the envelope and put it on the table. The two men stood up and shook hands, and then, after a word to the woman at the table, Whorf walked away.

  Nancy took a few steps after him, then caught herself. What was more important at this point was learning what those envelopes contained. She had been so sure that Greg had stolen the jewels for Whorf, but now she was forced to wonder if her theory was correct. Was it possible that the crew coach was involved in the theft from the museum, too?

  The coach, still on his feet, leaned over and said something to the woman, who smiled and stood up. The two of them walked toward the dance floor, leaving Whorf’s envelope sitting on the table.

  The opportunity was too good to pass up. Nancy walked quickly past the table and, without even breaking her stride, whisked up the envelope. She didn’t stop until she had gone past another group of tables, a dozen paces away.

  Casually, she scanned the area. Once she’d confirmed that no one was watching her, she studied the envelope. Her heart sank. It was unsealed. If it was an illicit message, wouldn’t Whorf seal the envelope? Lifting the flap, she slipped out the paper.

  Nancy felt her cheeks flush. It was an invitation to a party Whorf was giving in honor of the Emerson College rowing crews. So that was the “payoff” she had seen Whorf pass to Greg! That was probably why he had come in the first place, to hand out the invitations.

  She quickly put the invitation back in its envelope and dropped the envelope on the coach’s table without being spotted. Then Nancy wal
ked back to her own table. Ned was waiting for her.

  She sat down next to him and told him about Whorf, Greg, and the party invitation. He listened sympathetically, then said, “But you could still be right about Greg being Whorf’s accomplice, couldn’t you? That envelope—”

  Nancy sat bolt upright and grabbed Ned’s arm. “No!” she exclaimed. “I just remembered— Greg couldn’t be the thief. He’s on the junior varsity crew. At the time of the theft, he and the rest of the JV’s were getting ready to demonstrate the new rowing tank, in front of about two hundred people!”

  Ned nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I never thought of that.”

  “And I hadn’t met Greg yet, so I didn’t even notice him.” Nancy pounded her fist on her thigh in frustration. “But if he couldn’t have done it, and Whorf couldn’t have, who did? Rob ducked out of the ceremony, so he could have been at the museum at the right time, but I refuse to think—”

  “Hi,” George said, approaching the table, “did you find out anything helpful?”

  “That depends,” Nancy replied. “I just managed to eliminate my main suspect, if you call that helpful.”

  Nancy saw the smile on Rob’s face disappear. She was about to explain what had happened when the band launched into a slow, dreamy tune. Ned took her hand and said, “You need something to take your mind off this case, like trying to keep me from stepping on your feet. Let’s dance.”

  Susan and Greg were also on the dance floor. As Nancy and Ned passed them, Nancy looked over at Susan. At that instant, Whorf walked by in the background, and Nancy did a double-take. Whorf and Susan hadn’t even seemed to notice each other, but something about seeing them together jarred Nancy’s memory. What was it? Had she ever seen them together? She ran over in her mind the occasions when she had seen Whorf. There were the ceremonies at the museum and the boat house, the French restaurant, the ski area, and now the dance. But Susan had never been with him.

  Still, Nancy’s thoughts kept circling back to Whorf and Susan. She could almost see them facing each other, talking in low voices, turning to glance at her . . .