“Corporate cars?” echoed Nancy. “What do you mean?”
“We keep a number of cars set aside for use by companies here in Honolulu,” Meredith explained. “These companies have long-term rental agreements with us. Whenever they need a rental car in a hurry, we send one right over.”
“Do you own these cars?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, no. We lease them on a six-month basis from car dealerships here in the Islands,” Meredith replied.
Nancy frowned thoughtfully. “This Malihini Corporation—have you done business with them for very long?”
Meredith shook her head. “No. As a matter of fact, they’re brand-new clients. I processed their agreement just the other day.”
Just then, the airport intercom blared, “Nancy Drew, please report to the courtesy desk. You have a phone call.”
Excusing herself, Nancy hurried across the lobby. At the paneled courtesy desk, a clerk handed Nancy a telephone.
“Hi, Nancy.” It was Ned, and he sounded weary. “Bess told me you were at the airport. I’m down here at Kamaaina’s gas station. We just finished putting that car on the lift.”
“Is it in bad shape?”
“It was in bad shape when you rented it, Nancy. The brake drums are as bald as an eagle!” Anger sharpened his voice as he told her what else was wrong with it. “You want me to come down to the airport?”
“Stay where you are, Ned. We’ll pick you up in a little while.”
“Good enough. See you later.”
After handing back the phone, Nancy returned to the Sunrise desk. “Meredith, you said the Malihini Corporation specifically requested that car for me?”
“Yes, they did.”
Replacing the rental agreement in her bag, Nancy asked, “Where did that particular car come from?”
“We leased it from Smiling Al’s Auto Sales in Pearl City.” Meredith adjusted her glasses. “He sent it over first thing this morning.”
Nancy took a pen from her shoulder bag. “Could you get me Smiling Al’s address?”
“Certainly.”
Meredith copied the address from the central file and handed it to Nancy. In another instant, Nancy and George were hurrying out to the taxi stand.
“Where are we going now?” George asked.
“First we pick up Ned,” Nancy replied, opening the rear door of a cab. “Then we’re going to see a man about a car. Ned says it was a rolling death trap.” Nancy sat down and slammed the door shut. “I want to know why it was waiting for us when we arrived at the airport.”
• • •
Smiling Al’s Auto Sales wasn’t hard to find. Its three-story cartoon billboard loomed huge above the Punanai Hills.
One of the showroom salesmen conducted them to the manager’s office. A short, jowly man with bushy eyebrows and a receding hairline sat behind a sprawling mahogany desk. He had more diplomas on his wall than a doctor.
He looked up with a broad salesman’s smile as Nancy and her friends entered. “Hi, I’m Al Lutsen. Smiling Al. What can I do for you?”
“I had a problem with one of your cars, Mr. Lutsen,” Nancy said. “The brakes failed!”
“What car?” Al’s smile vanished instantly. “When did this happen?”
“About two o’clock this afternoon,” Nancy replied. “It was a tan four-door sedan. Remember it?”
“Vaguely.” But Al’s face gave him away. Nancy could tell that he remembered the car quite well. “What was wrong with it?”
Ned counted off points on his fingers. “One, the brake drums were bald. Two, the axle had rusted out. Three, the muffler fell off while it was on the lift—”
“I didn’t sell you that car,” Al blustered. “Why are you so interested?”
“You leased it to Sunrise Rentals this morning,” Nancy replied. “They rented it to us. We were nearly killed in that clunker. So we’re here for some answers, Mr. Lutsen.”
Al cleared his throat and began shuffling through some papers. “Well, if you rented it from Sunrise, you’ll have to take it up with them. I’m not responsible for cars once they leave the lot. I’m a busy man. Lot of work to do. Goodbye. Please close the door on your way out.”
Ned leaned across the desk. “We’re not leaving until we get our answers.”
“I don’t discuss the firm’s business with outsiders.”
Nancy cocked her head to one side. “Would you like to know where we’re going next?” she asked.
Al’s eyebrows lifted. “Where?”
“The Department of Transportation!” Nancy rested her fingertips on his desk. “I think they’ll be very interested to hear that Smiling Al is putting unsafe cars on the road.”
As the three turned to leave, Al jumped out of his chair and beat them to the door. “Whoa-whoa-whoa! Wait a minute! Let’s talk about this, eh?” His salesman’s smile had magically reappeared.
“How’d you come by that car?” Nancy asked.
Al shrugged. “I picked it up a couple of days ago. Got it from the Malihini Corporation.”
Nancy’s eyes widened. She glanced at George, who mirrored her look of astonishment. Al bit his lower lip. “Um, I said something?”
An excited note in her voice, Nancy asked, “How did this Malihini Corporation get in touch with you?”
“That’s the funny part,” Al recalled. “They sent me a telegram. ‘Dear Mr. Lutsen.’ I thought they were hitting me up for a donation at first. It was a little strange, but what a deal!”
“What do you mean, ‘strange’?” Ned interjected.
“Well, the Malihini Corporation offered to sell me that car, but only if I leased it immediately to Sunrise Rentals,” Al replied. “I had to scramble to do that. But it was worth it. The Malihini Corporation sold me that car for half the book value!”
Nancy scowled. “Why didn’t your mechanics check out the car before you leased it to Sunrise?”
“I—I—I didn’t have time for that,” Al said lamely. “I had to have that car on the Sunrise lot first thing this morning. That was the deal. Hey, I couldn’t pass that up. Half price? No way!” He stared uncomfortably at the trio. “Look, it was legitimate business. If you’ve got a beef about those brakes, you should talk to Sunrise.”
“But it wasn’t legitimate,” Ned said. “You bought a clunker sight unseen and then dumped it on a rental agency. Pretty sloppy for a sharp businessman like yourself.”
Nancy stepped forward. “Tell me more about the Malihini Corporation. Who are they? Have you ever done business with them before?”
“With them? Nahhhh! But I pick up old cars from companies all the time . . .” Meekly he sank into his chair. “Uh, maybe I could make it up to you, eh?”
“Yes, you could,” George fumed. “Why don’t you test-drive that car?”
“Now, there’s no need to get nasty.” Al’s smile resurrected itself. “I understand your situation. You’re in Hawaii, and you don’t have a car for sight-seeing. But, listen, I’m always willing to help. Why, I’d be delighted to rent you lovely ladies—and you, sir—a brand-new car right out of the showroom for as long as you’re in the Islands.”
“No charge!” added Nancy grimly.
Al scratched the back of his head. He showed Nancy a sidelong frown. “Ah—couldn’t we negotiate something about mileage?”
• • •
An hour later in a new car provided by Smiling Al, Nancy drove her friends back to Honolulu. She steered the car down the Kamehameha Highway, keeping an eye on the rush-hour traffic.
Nancy’s thoughts were racing. The Malihini Corporation had originally owned that damaged car. They had sold it to Smiling Al at a price he couldn’t resist—but only on the condition that he lease it immediately to Sunrise Rentals. Next, the Malihini Corporation had called Sunrise and arranged to have that particular car waiting for Nancy Drew.
Ned gave her a long look. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“I’m thinking about that nice little booby trap the Malihini Corporation left for us,” Na
ncy replied as she steered the car down the exit. “Whoever they are, they went to a lot of trouble to cover their tracks. They knew we were going to visit Alice Faulkner. They knew we would be coming down Tantalus Drive on the way home. You can guess the rest.”
“You bet,” Ned replied. “Our crash would have looked like a simple accident. No one would have traced it all the way back to the Malihini Corporation.”
“Nancy, what do you make of all this?” George asked.
“I don’t know, George.” Sighing, Nancy turned the car into the Ala Wai parking lot. “None of it makes sense. What is this Malihini Corporation? Why did they try to kill us the moment we arrived in Honolulu?” She eased the car into a parking space. “Ned, George—we’d better be very, very careful from now on, okay?”
Ned nodded in agreement. “I’ll go along with that.”
After grabbing their gear, the trio headed down the floating walkway that connected the individual berths. Sunset painted the sea a vivid bronze. Fat gulls rested on barnacle-encrusted piles and watched the boat owners close up for the night.
The Kahala lolled at her berth. Her fiberglass hull made thudding noises as it jostled the pier. George sighed. “Am I glad to be home. Know something? I haven’t had a bite to eat all day.”
“Why don’t you and Bess make sandwiches?” Nancy suggested. “That’ll give me a chance to phone Mrs. Faulkner’s daughter.”
Just then, Bess appeared at the Kahala’s fantail, smiling and waving a greeting. All at once a look of horror flashed across her face.
“Nancy! Behind you! Look out!”
Nancy turned just in time to see a sailboat’s boom swinging toward them. The thick wooden beam was hurtling straight at her face!
Chapter
Four
NANCY GRABBED HER friends and threw herself forward. The sail struck her high on the shoulder, but the boom sailed harmlessly past.
Nancy, Ned, and George hit the walkway together. The impact drove water through the slats, soaking the trio to the skin.
“Oh!” a woman cried out. “Are you kids all right?”
“Nobody was hurt.” Getting up, Nancy saw a plump woman standing on the deck of a moored Catalina whose boom was suspended over the walkway.
“Talk about ‘low bridge’!” George exclaimed, standing up.
“I’m awfully sorry,” the woman said. “I thought that winch was locked. It started unwinding the minute I turned my back. I never meant to—”
“That’s okay. No harm done.” Nancy smiled reassuringly.
Nancy and her friends pushed the boom back aboard the woman’s boat. Then they joined Bess at the Kahala. After assuring Bess that they were all right, they boarded the cruiser.
While Ned and George were changing clothes, Nancy used the boat’s cordless phone to call Lisa’s mother. The phone at the other end rang three times. Then a woman’s voice answered. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Rafferty, this is Nancy Drew—”
“Nancy Drew!” the woman interrupted. “Where have you people been? Mother said you were coming hours ago.”
“Our rental car broke down. We were delayed reporting the accident. I am sorry,” Nancy said apologetically. “Listen, I can be there in half an hour.”
“All right. Come right over.”
“See you then.” Nancy hung up. “Bess, you and George stay here and cover the phone in case Mrs. Faulkner tries to reach us. We’ll be back soon.”
“Okay.” Bess put a couple of sandwiches and two cans of soda in a plastic bag, then handed the bundle to Nancy. “Good luck.”
Grinning, Ned opened the hatch. “We may need it.”
• • •
Diana Rafferty’s apartment was two miles east of the marina, in an ultramodern building. Nancy parked in the beach lot opposite it. Then dodging the traffic, she and Ned dashed across the street.
Nancy pressed the doorbell at an upper-floor apartment. The door swung open to reveal a slender, tight-lipped woman with a soft blond ponytail and Alice Faulkner’s blue eyes.
Diana blinked in surprise. “Nancy Drew?”
“That’s me.” Nancy offered a pleasant smile. “And this is my friend Ned Nickerson.”
“Excuse me, it’s just—” Flustered, Diana opened the door all the way. “Well—you’re a kid.”
“Eighteen, Mrs. Rafferty,” Nancy replied, holding her smile in place. Alice Faulkner’s polished manners hadn’t rubbed off on her daughter.
“I hope my mother knows what she’s doing.” Diana led the way into her living room. “Please. Make yourselves comfortable. Oh, I really should mention that I don’t like to be called that name. I prefer ‘Diana Faulkner’ ”
Nancy nodded politely and sat down. Her gaze wandered around the room, taking in the large windows, modern furniture, and tropical plants. Diana’s paintings hung in prominent places along the walls, each one emblazoned with her signature. The paintings were all nature studies—flaming volcanoes, ferocious blue seas, stormy landscapes.
“The last time you saw Lisa was Friday morning, wasn’t it?” Nancy asked.
“Yes.” Diana gave a dramatic sigh. “When she left for school.” Her voice quavered. “I—I just don’t understand why she did it—why she ran away. I mean, if she had a problem, she could have come to me. Right? I’m her mother.”
Toying with an earring, Diana added, “I suppose I ought to be grateful for your help. Do you think you can find her?”
“The more you tell me, the better our chances.” Nancy settled back in her chair. “Why did you send Lisa to the bank that day?”
“I needed my travelers’ checks. I was planning to be gone a few days. An exhibit of my work.” Her lips tightened. “You see, despite the opposition of my mother and my ex-husbands—all four of them!—I’ve made quite a name for myself as an artist. That’s why this business irritates me no end!”
Puzzled, Nancy asked, “What do you mean?”
“I had to miss my opening because of this mess. I’m supposed to be on Maui, not sitting around here trying to figure out what got into Lisa!”
Diana’s self-centeredness took Nancy’s breath away. With Lisa missing, how could Diana even think about an art exhibit?
“Why didn’t you go to the bank yourself?” Nancy prodded.
“There was a strike at the hotel I was booked into. I had to make other arrangements.”
“Did Lisa do this sort of thing for you often?”
“Now and then. I tried to get her to be more helpful around here. She was so sullen at times. As if she held me personally responsible for all the trouble in her life. Trouble! That girl doesn’t know the meaning of the word!”
“She does now,” Ned observed quietly.
Ignoring his comment, Diana scowled and snapped, “How could Lisa do it? How? If word of this ever gets out, I’ll be the laughingstock of Honolulu!”
No wonder poor Lisa ran away! Nancy thought.
“Can you tell me something about Lisa’s friends?” she asked, resting her chin on her fist.
“Not much. There was a girl who was always hanging around here—Dawn something. I forget her last name. I met her only once or twice.” Diana pushed her dainty glasses up on her nose. “I happen to be a very busy woman. Most people think artists work when they feel the urge. Not so! When I prepare for an exhibit, I have to do ten or twelve canvases.” Closing her eyes, she stroked her forehead gingerly. “I—I can’t understand it. I just can’t! Lisa knew how important that exhibit is. How could she do this to me now?”
Stifling a surge of irritation, Nancy stood up and exhaled slowly. “Ms. Faulkner, could I look at Lisa’s bedroom?”
“Go ahead. It’s upstairs. Second door on the right.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right back. Ned, maybe you could get directions to Lisa’s school from Ms. Faulkner. We’ll definitely want to visit there.”
Nancy climbed the carpeted stairs and slipped into the darkened room. She flicked on the light, noting the cedarwood bur
eau and sound system and home computer. On the bed, a teddy bear forlornly awaited his owner’s return.
There was a personalized notepad on the ink-stained blotter on Lisa’s desk. Picking it up, Nancy tilted the top sheet toward the light. Faint impressions were visible. If she could enhance them, there might be a clue here.
Nancy took a lead pencil and lightly colored across the paper. Only a few impressions came through in the sheen of gray. The upper left corner showed the clearest markings:
Miss Mi
1276 Pr
San Fra
An address, Nancy realized. Miss Mi? Who could that be? Perhaps a friend of Lisa’s.
Peeling the paper from the pad, Nancy folded it and tucked it into her shoulder bag. Just then, a hanging object drew her gaze. It was a model helicopter, an army Huey, suspended from a nylon thread.
All in all, the rest of Lisa’s room seemed pretty normal for a sixteen-year-old girl. But that model helicopter didn’t fit. Nancy studied it for a long moment, then shrugged.
Next she picked up a photo cube on the bureau. All six photos were of a lovely girl with brownish blond hair and striking blue eyes. Three of the pictures showed Lisa alone. One pictured her with a cute dark-haired girl—another with a grinning strawberry blonde. The final snapshot showed all three girls at an airport, hamming it up in front of a Huey helicopter.
Looks as though Lisa is interested in flying, Nancy thought, glancing back at the model. I wonder if her mother knows how much?
Nancy felt a twinge of sadness. Since her mother’s death, Carson Drew had tried to be both a mother and a father to her. What would my life have been like if Dad had been like Diana Faulkner? she wondered. If he had been too wrapped up in himself to care about me?
Dismissing that depressing thought, Nancy stood at the corner of the window and peered through the Venetian blinds. Across the street, black feather palms waved languidly in the night breeze.
And then Nancy saw him.
He was a dark-skinned, broad-shouldered man in a Hawaiian shirt. Moon face and slicked-back hair. Nervously tapping his toe on the sidewalk, he was leaning against a streetlight, arms folded—his gaze never leaving Lisa Trumbull’s window.