“I’d like to look at the safety deposit vault, if you don’t mind.” Nancy circled the table. “And I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Ross Rafferty led them all downstairs. The vault was as large as a barn, with a huge circular door. Inside, a tall Japanese man was examining some papers. He had iron-gray hair, a bristling mustache, and mournful eyes that reminded Nancy of a basset hound’s.
“Nancy, this is Mitsuo Kaimonsaki, the president of the bank.” Ross caught Nancy’s questioning glance and explained, “I’m chief executive officer of the company that owns the bank. Mitsuo here is in charge of the day-to-day operations of the bank itself.”
Mr. Kaimonsaki cocked a slim eyebrow. “This is related to the matter of Mrs. Faulkner’s grand-daughter?”
“Yes,” Nancy replied. “Mr. Kaimonsaki, did you suspect anything Friday when you let Lisa into this vault?”
“Not at all,” he answered. “Lisa ran errands for her mother on several occasions.”
That fit with what Diana had told Nancy. “Tell me, who had access to Ms. Faulkner’s safety deposit box?”
Rafferty seemed to bristle at the phrase “Ms. Faulkner.” Nancy guessed that the divorce hadn’t been his idea.
“The immediate family,” Kaimonsaki replied. “Alice, Diana, and Lisa. Bank employees need authorization to enter the vault—a pass signed by the three highest officers of the bank. The officers, of course, have routine access to the safety deposit boxes.”
“Who are they?” asked Nancy.
“Myself, Mr. Rafferty, and Amy Sorenson, the bank’s vice-president.”
Nancy nodded in understanding. “Could I talk to Ms. Sorenson?”
“Perhaps later. She’ll be back soon.” Kaimonsaki looked apologetic.
Ross Rafferty fingered his tie. “Mitsuo, why don’t you show Nancy’s friends around the bank? She and I have to talk.”
As soon as the others had gone, Rafferty said, “Nancy, I’m afraid I may have given you the wrong impression a little while ago.” He smiled feebly. “We’ve all been under such a strain these past few days. Some of us more than others.” Nancy said nothing. Rafferty rushed to fill the conversational gap. “I—I don’t know what Diana may have told you, but, well—I’m quite fond of Lisa, even if she isn’t my natural daughter. I want Lisa home safe and sound. The same as you and Alice.”
Nancy wasn’t convinced. “Mr. Rafferty,” she asked, “why didn’t you want to cooperate with me?”
“I was afraid your involvement in this matter would upset an already delicate situation. The bank has certain—difficulties. I’m not at liberty to discuss them. Forgive me. Of course, I’m willing to give you all the help I can.”
Sure you are! Nancy thought tartly. She was remembering what Dawn Burnham had told her about Lisa’s home life. Ross Rafferty would never win a Father of the Year award!
Nancy wondered if Ross’s “difficulties” had something to do with his stepdaughter’s disappearance. Was Ross Rafferty a man with a closet full of nasty secrets?
Would one of those secrets get poor Lisa killed?
• • •
The Ka Lae was an old hotel, a 1920s tourist mecca that had fallen upon hard times. Still, its whitewashed facade, Moorish arches, and lush garden made it stand out in its rundown neighborhood.
George reached for her door handle. “Let’s wrap this up.”
“Not so fast, George,” Nancy said softly. “I think maybe we’d better try a soft probe first. You know, the more I learn about this case, the less I’m certain of. Someone’s trying to keep us away from Lisa. Why?” She glanced at each of her friends. “Both Alice and Ross mentioned business difficulties. How do they fit into Lisa’s disappearance?”
“I thought Lisa ran away,” George commented.
“So did I, at first. Now I’m not so sure.” Nancy studied the front entrance. “Lisa couldn’t afford airfare to get to San Francisco, right? Then how can she afford to stay here?”
“You’re right, Nan,” added Bess. “She didn’t sell anything to Boomer.”
“Bess, I need you and George for a diversion,” Nancy said, opening her car door. “Get the desk clerk out of the lobby for a few minutes, okay?”
“You bet!” Bess said enthusiastically. “The Undercover Cousins strike again.”
Nancy and Ned waited until the cousins had entered the lobby, then strolled up the front walk. Ned lingered at the right side of the entryway. Nancy peeked around the door jamb. She heard a TV set somewhere in the lobby.
“Kilauea volcano erupted today, spewing tons of lava into the air. Geologists say this is the biggest eruption in ten years. . . .”
Nancy tuned out the broadcast, straining to hear the girls’ conversation with the desk clerk.
“What can I do for you, ladies?”
“My cousin and I are looking for an apartment,” George said.
“Well, you girls are in luck. I’ve got three vacancies. Let me shut this thing off, and I’ll show you around.”
“Observers report volcanic blasts sixty feet high . . .”
Click! The TV died. “This way. Hey, what do you girls think of our volcano, eh?” asked the clerk.
Bess chuckled nervously. “I’m glad I don’t live next door to it!”
Their footsteps receded into the distance. Nancy peered around the comer. The lobby was completely deserted. “They’ve gone. Let’s go!” Dashing quietly across the lobby, Nancy reached the desk and turned the guest register around. A name jumped out at her. L. Faulkner!
Nancy lifted the master key from its wall peg. “It’s got to be Lisa,” she whispered. “She’s using her mother’s maiden name.”
Minutes later Nancy and Ned arrived at Room 232. Nancy eased the key into the lock and pushed the door open. “Lisa?”
Nancy switched on the overhead light, then gasped.
The apartment was completely deserted!
Nancy and Ned walked through the living room, looking around in confusion. Not a stick of furniture in sight. The place had been picked clean!
Kneeling, Nancy ran her fingertips along the floor. “The floor’s just been waxed. Somebody cleaned out this place very thoroughly. Let’s have a look around.”
They split up. Ned took the bedroom. Nancy checked the kitchen. Every wall and floor had been washed. They couldn’t even find a stray fingerprint.
Frustrated, Nancy headed for the living room again. Lisa couldn’t have cleaned this apartment all by herself. Indeed, why would she even bother?
Nancy suddenly remembered the transceiver in their car. She distinctly recalled having mentioned the Ka Lae by name. Now it was clear. Someone had tipped off Lisa and warned her to leave.
Another—more ominous—thought entered Nancy’s mind. Suppose Lisa Trumbull had been forced to leave?
Nancy’s gaze was drawn to the window. Gauzy drapes hung there, suspended by rings from an old-fashioned brass rod. The last two rings on the right were dangling—they’d slipped off the rod.
Rising on tiptoe, Nancy removed the entire rod. The brass was lightweight, probably hollow. An ornate bulb capped each end.
Somebody had taken this off the window, Nancy realized. When they’d tried to put it back, there was nothing to use as a stepladder. They’d had to stretch, the way she did. Those last two rings had slipped off, and they hadn’t bothered to replace them.
The bulb came off in Nancy’s hand. Excitement set her nerves tingling. The curtain rod was hollow! And Nancy’s probing fingers could feel something inside!
Tilting the curtain rod, Nancy withdrew a tube of heavy bond paper. As she did so, a smaller tube of onionskin paper slipped out and danced down to the floor. Puzzled, she picked it up. Then, tucking the onionskin under her arm, she hastily unfurled the bond document.
The corporate logo of Windward Fidelity Bank was the first thing that caught her eye. Just beneath, in bold type, was the message “You will pay to the bearer upon submission of this bond note the sum of fifty tho
usand dollars.”
Chapter
Ten
NANCY’S BREATHING QUICKENED. This was one of the bonds Lisa ran off with!
“Ned!” she called in a stage whisper. “Come here—quick!”
Looking the bond over, Ned gasped, “Wow! But why didn’t Lisa take this bond with her?”
“I’d say Lisa moved out of here in a hurry,” Nancy replied. “She grabbed the curtain rod and shook out the papers. Only these two got stuck inside. . . .”
Ned pointed at the onionskin tube. “What’s that?”
“Let’s find out!” Nancy hurriedly unrolled it.
The paper was a shipping manifest. Nancy’s eyes skimmed the list of items. “Pieces of radio equipment,” she said. Then the paper quivered in her grasp as she saw the name of the buyer.
Malihini Corporation
P.O. Box 4237661
Honolulu, HI
“Looks as if our two cases are coming together, Ned. There’s our link between Lisa Trumbull and the Malihini Corporation.”
“And our link with the transceiver we found in our car.” Ned’s thumb tapped the shipper’s name. “Higashi Electronics.”
Nancy checked the items. “You’re right. There’s the transceiver the Malihini Corporation ordered. So they’re the ones who did it.” She rolled up the two papers again. “First they tried to stop us from searching for Lisa. Then they tried to spy on us.”
“I don’t get it.” Ned replaced the curtain rod. “How did a Malihini Corporation shipping manifest wind up inside a Windward bearer bond?”
“It has to be one of two things,” Nancy replied. “Either Lisa found this manifest somewhere else and included it with her papers, or the manifest itself was tucked inside the bearer bond.”
“For what reason?” asked Ned.
“Your guess is as good as mine. Let’s go talk to the desk clerk.”
Nancy and Ned left the building via the fire escape. They waited in the garden, watching Bess and George walk back to the car. Then they strode through the front entrance.
“Afternoon.” The clerk smiled. “What can I do for you?”
As they crossed the lobby, Nancy took out her photo of Lisa. She put it on the counter. “We’re private detectives. We’re looking for this girl. Have you seen her?”
“Miss Faulkner? Sure!” He glanced at the photo, then handed it back to Nancy. “You just missed her. She checked out about an hour ago.”
Nancy replaced the photo in her bag. “How’d she pay for the room?”
“Credit card. But it wasn’t her credit card It was charged to a company account—the Malihini Corporation.”
Them again! “Any idea why Miss Faulkner left?” Nancy prodded.
“I guess it was because of that phone call,” the clerk replied. “Came about four o’clock. I handle the switchboard and put it through. Next thing I know, the girl’s bolting out of here. Didn’t even sign out! Then the movers showed up . . .”
“Movers?” echoed Nancy and Ned in unison.
“Yeah, the same bunch that brought that furniture a few days ago. They had orders to clean out the place. Kahuku Moving Van Company.”
“Thank you.” Nancy stepped away from the counter. “Listen, if you hear from Miss Faulkner again, please contact the Honolulu police.”
“Why? What’s the problem?” The clerk looked wary.
“She’s a runaway,” Ned answered.
“Okay, I’ll call them.”
His bland tone told Nancy that he wouldn’t even try. A place like the Ka Lae wanted no trouble with the police.
Silently she followed Ned out to the car.
Outside, the Hawaiian night was cool and still. A golden glimmer rested on the mountains, the last remnant of sunset. Nancy quickly told Bess and George what had happened inside. Then, flushed with inspiration, she led her friends down the street to a corner convenience store.
“I’ve got an idea,” Nancy murmured, checking the shopworn Yellow Pages at the pay phone. After popping her coins in, she punched in the numbers.
The phone at the other end rang twice. A woman answered. “Good evening. Kahuku Moving Van Company.”
“Hi, I’m Lisa Faulkner,” Nancy said, winking at her friends. “You people moved my furniture this afternoon. But you left my couch behind. Could you send your men over to pick it up, please?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Faulkner, but you’ll have to clear that with the people who rented the van.”
Nancy experienced a tingle of foreboding. “Uh, no problem.” She waited several seconds, then added, “Oh, dear! I seem to have lost their number. Could you?”
“Sorry, Ms. Faulkner, but we have no phone number for them. Just their post office box.” The woman sounded sympathetic. “Why don’t you call the operator and tell her you need the number for the Malihini Corporation?”
“I’ll do that. Thanks.” Nancy hung up.
When Nancy had related the gist of the conversation, Ned said, “This is crazy! Why would a bunch of business people help a teenager run away from home?”
Bess looked around nervously. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m scared. Who are these Malihini guys? They set us up—planting stuff in our car! I don’t like being a target!”
“Neither do I,” Nancy said, rounding the front of her car. “I think it’s high time we had a talk with Alice Faulkner.”
“About what?” asked Ned.
“The business difficulties she and Ross mentioned,” Nancy replied. “Every time we go after Lisa, we run smack into the Malihini Corporation. How come? There’s a business angle to this case that just won’t go away.” She lifted the door latch. “And it’s time we found out what it is.”
• • •
The plantation house gleamed in the moonlight. Palm trees rustled in the soft breeze. As Nancy and her friends approached the house, a woman’s silhouette appeared in the bright rectangle of the doorway.
Alice Faulkner leaned forward expectantly. “Nancy! Have you found her?”
Nancy felt miserable. Breaking this news was a hard thing to do. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Faulkner. Somebody tipped Lisa off that we were coming. It’s just a temporary setback, though.”
Alice’s proud shoulders drooped, but she managed to conceal the extent of her disappointment. “Please come in. I do hope you’ll stay for dinner. I could use some pleasant company for a change.” With a weary smile, she led them to the dining room. “Ross and his associates are here. Trying to comfort me, or so they say. Personally, I’d rather have them out looking for Lisa.”
Nancy stepped into the dining room, where vast sliding-glass doors offered a panoramic view of the palm-studded garden. Ross Rafferty stared into the night, shoulders tense. Mitsuo Kaimonsaki stood by the liquor cabinet. He was pouring brandy for a woman who was standing next to Rafferty.
The woman was nearly as tall as Mitsuo in her stiletto heels. An aquamarine cocktail dress molded her superb figure. Her beautiful face was framed by a tumble of stylishly coiffed blond hair.
Alice went right over to her. “Amy, I don’t believe you’ve met Nancy Drew. This is Amy Sorenson, the bank’s vice-president.”
Flashing a warm smile, Amy nodded. “How do you do, Nancy.”
“My friends—” Nancy gestured at her companions. “Ned Nickerson—Bess Marvin—George Fayne.”
Amy’s green eyes blinked in disbelief. Nancy sensed Amy’s sudden coolness.
“You’re George?” The woman’s tone dripped disapproval.
“I have been all my life.” George lifted her chin. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Looking a little embarrassed, Amy smoothed the skirt of her dress. “Er—no, it’s just a bit unusual, that’s all.”
Holding a chair for Alice, Mitsuo remarked, “Why don’t we start dinner? The food smells delicious.”
Nancy and her friends enjoyed the old-fashioned Polynesian dinner: roast suckling pig with baked taro, cooked spinach, and poe, a starchy pudding made of papaya,
mangoes, and bananas.
Midway through dessert, Nancy asked, “Mrs. Faulkner, what do you know about the Malihini Corporation?”
Clink! Ross dropped his fork, his eyes round with shock. Amy cleared her throat and lowered her eyes. Mitsuo stared quizzically at Nancy.
Alice looked troubled. “Nancy, where did you hear that name?”
Snorting in disgust, Ross threw his napkin on the table. “Go ahead, Alice. Tell her! Then we can take out an ad in the Star-Bulletin and tell the whole world!”
“Mind your manners and hush!” Alice said sharply. “This is my home, and Nancy is my guest. I want to know where she heard about the Malihini Corporation.” Alice looked at Nancy purposefully. “Well?”
So Nancy told her. When she had finished, Alice leaned back in her chair. “It fits. It fits so well.” She closed her eyes in misery. “It’s what I feared all along. They’re using Lisa to strike at me.”
“Who are “they’?” Nancy asked.
“The Malihini Corporation first appeared in Honolulu a year ago,” Alice explained. “They bought real estate all over the Islands. In time, they became Hawaii’s biggest developer. But nobody seems to know who they are.”
“Why are they after you, Mrs. Faulkner?”
Alice made a steeple of her fingers. “Our bank has been putting money into the Konalani project. It’s a planned community on Oahu’s north shore. We have a lot of money riding on the outcome of that project.”
Ross thumped the table with his fist. “And they’re trying to sandbag us! You see, Nancy, our bank has been having a serious problem with cash in recent years. The Konalani project will save us. But if our investors ever learn that the project is in danger of collapse, they’ll sell their shares of Windward Bancorp stock!”
“You lost me,” Bess murmured.
Amy smiled indulgently. “It’s simple economics, dear. Windward Bancorp is the company that owns the bank. They have stockholders, just like any other company. If the stockholders dump their shares, someone else can buy them all up and take control of Windward Bancorp.”