The Eskimo's Secret

1.
 
Imported Problems

2.
 
A Cry for Help

3.
 
Strange Disappearance

4.
 
Several Suspects

5.
 
A Friend in Hiding

6.
 
A Ransacked Room

7.
 
The Elusive Detective

8.
 
A Cruel Bargain

9.
 
Dark Pursuit

10.
 
Secret at Firebird Lodge

11.
 
Searching a Legend

12.
 
Uncertain Flight

13.
 
Stalling for Time

14.
 
A Puzzling Code

15.
 
Message in Pieces

16.
 
Final Clues

17.
 
Plotting an Escape

18.
 
Rescue Attempt

19.
 
Moment of Truth

20.
 
Tundra Treasure

“This assignment is a tough one, Dad,” eighteen-year-old Nancy Drew told her father over the telephone. “I just can’t seem to find anything listed for C-B, Inc.”

“I’m not surprised,” Carson Drew replied. “I’ve been trying to get information on Investors, Inc., and I haven’t done much better. Obviously, C-B, Inc. and Investors, Inc. are phony corporations. Probably a front for something or someone, so we’ll have to do a lot of digging to uncover the real identities.”

“Do you want me to give up on C-B, Inc.?” Nancy asked.

“You might as well. Come on back to the hotel and we’ll have an early lunch. Maybe we can think of a new approach.”

The girl detective, who was only three when her mother died, had a close relationship with her father. A prominent attorney in their home town of River Heights, Mr. Drew frequently called upon Nancy to help him investigate particularly difficult cases all over the country.

“I’ll meet you in the dining room,” Nancy said as she hung up the phone.

As she headed for the rental car she had picked up at the Seattle, Washington airport, she thought of Helen Haggler’s first urgent call to Carson Drew. She was the head of Haggler International Imports, a chain of very elegant shops that sold imported art objects in all the major West Coast cities.

Miss Haggler told Mr. Drew that several unexplained accidents had occurred at the stores recently, and she believed them to be the work of some unknown enemy. She also mentioned receiving several calls from two companies interested in buying her business, but she had dismissed them. One was C-B, Inc. and the other was Investors, Inc. Since she wasn’t considering selling her business to them, she had not paid attention to the offers. Now, Miss Haggler wondered if these companies might be responsible for her recent troubles.

When Nancy finally joined her father at a corner table overlooking the bustling city, she asked, a bit teasingly, “Have you decided how we should begin our new approach?”

“At the beginning,” Carson Drew responded with a grin. “I think we’ll have to trace the owners of every corporation listed in Investors, Inc. I’m sure a lot of them are fakes, but one of them will be the actual people behind Investors, Inc., and that’s the one we have to find.” “Then you do think Miss Haggler was right about all the accidents and bad luck she’s had being part of a conspiracy?” Nancy asked.

Her father nodded. “Helen isn’t the type to get upset over accidents. Our problem is finding out who is to blame for her trouble and getting the proof necessary to turn it over to the police.”

“These companies look like they’re candidates since they’ve offered to buy her company," Nancy mused after they’d ordered lunch. "And the fact that we haven’t been able to find any real people behind these corporations seems suspicious.”

“I’ve never seen such a paper trail,” Carson Drew agreed. “The closest I’ve come to finding real directors are the names R.K. Smith and D.W. Jones, and that discovery was three corporations removed from Investors, Inc. I haven’t been able to locate either of them, so I’m not sure they actually exist.”

“Maybe we should be investigating the things that happened to Miss Haggler,” Nancy suggested. “Solving a simple case of arson or theft, or even art fraud, would be a snap compared with this.”

“I don’t think the police would appreciate your attitude,” Mr. Drew observed with a chuckle. “They’re working on the cases in the cities where there was trouble, but they haven’t had much luck so far.”

“So what are we going to do?” Nancy asked.

“I think you should call your friend in Victoria,” Carson Drew answered. “Perhaps she’d like to come to Seattle and spend a few days with you.”

“Are you taking me off this investigation, Dad?” Nancy asked, suddenly troubled.

“Heavens, no, just giving you a brief vacation while I do some very dull digging into the background of Investors, Inc. Maybe I’ll pick up something on C-B, Inc. along the way.” He frowned. “I thought you’d planned to see Alana.”

Nancy picked up her fork and started on her omelette before speaking. Alana Steele was an old friend who had grown up in River Heights.

She’d been orphaned as the result of a tragic car accident several years earlier and had gone to live in Victoria, British Columbia, with her uncle, Clement Steele. She and Nancy had kept in touch with letters and phone calls, but they had not seen each other since Alana left River Heights.

“Of course I want to see her,” Nancy said. “I just don’t want to neglect you and Miss Haggler.”

“There isn’t much you can do until I get the real names of the people behind Investors, Inc.,” her father assured her.

“Then I’ll call her after we finish lunch,”

Nancy promised. “Now, did you get the report from the San Francisco people?”

“Helen has been cleared of the recent fraud charges made by one of her clients,” Mr. Drew reported. “The papers on that jade carving were forged by an unscrupulous dealer. Helen had checked it out properly before offering it to her client, and everything appeared quite correct. The dealer was using her good reputation. The mystery is why the forgery was revealed.”

“Another attempt to hurt the reputation of Haggler Imports?” Nancy suggested.

“I can think of no other reason,” Carson Drew agreed. “That charge was the final straw. It made me sure that Helen was right about all this trouble being more than just a run of bad luck.”

“But why would someone be so eager to buy out her company?” Nancy asked. “I know she’s very successful and has possibilities to expand her business beyond the West Coast, but wouldn’t all that change if her reputation was ruined?”

Her father nodded.

“Then ...” Nancy paused. “Could they be doing that to lower the price of the company?” she asked.

Her father considered, then smiled. “You just might be on to something,” he admitted.

“And Investors, Inc. must be involved.” Nancy frowned.

“That’s something you can be thinking about while you’re entertaining Alana,” her father said.

“That sounds like my cue to go upstairs and make my call,” Nancy said.

“Give my regards to her uncle,” Carson said.

“Do you know Clement Steele?” Nancy was surprised.

“We’ve met several times. He’s an art dealer, you know, and has quite a nice gallery in Victoria. I believe he specializes in native art—Indian and Eskimo.”

“That sounds fascinating,” Nancy murmured.

“I suppose that’s why Alana has been so interested in studying art these past few years.” “You’ll have to ask her about it.”

“Talk to you later,” Nancy said, getting to her feet.

It took several minutes to place the call to Victoria, but Alana was soon on the phone, her voice full of excitement. “Oh, Nancy, I’m so glad you called,” she said. “When I got your letter saying you were going to be in the area, I was happy we'd probably have a chance to talk.” "Well, I’m going to be in Seattle for some time, so I was hoping that you’d be able to come and visit,” Nancy invited, giving Alana the details of where she was staying. “I’ve been helping my father with a case, but he’s told me I should take time off. We could do some shopping and sightseeing, if you’re free.”

There was a long interval of silence. Nancy could hear Alana’s breathing on the other end, but nothing else. She waited and waited, a puzzled frown touching her forehead. Finally, she could stand it no longer. “Is this a bad time, Alana?” she asked.

“No, of course not.” Alana answered too quickly. “It’s just that . . . Nancy, I really can’t talk right at the moment. I’ll have to call you back. Do you mind?”

“No, I—” Nancy stopped, realizing she was talking to herself, since the phone on the other end had been disconnected. Her face grew tense as she wondered what was troubling her friend. She replaced the receiver and got up to pace the room.

Time inched by. A half hour passed, then an hour. Finally Nancy could stand it no longer. She dialed the number of the Steele home a second time. It rang and rang unanswered.

Another hour passed and Nancy tried again. This time the housekeeper answered almost at once.

“May I speak with Alana, please,” Nancy said, identifying herself.

“I’m sorry, Miss Drew, but Alana is no longer in the house,” the housekeeper replied.

“Do you know where I can reach her?” Nancy asked, relieved to think that Alana had not called because she had left the house for some reason.

“She didn’t say, Miss. Perhaps you should try the gallery. Mr. Steele might know. Do you wish that number?”

“Please.” Nancy wrote down the number, then dialed it at once. The response at the gallery was no more satisfying than the call to Alana’s home had been. Unable to accept Alana’s prolonged absence, Nancy asked to speak to Mr. Steele.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” she began once she’d introduced herself and told him about her earlier calls. “I’m a little concerned about Alana. It’s been two hours since I talked to her and—” “I can understand your feelings, Nancy,” Mr. Steele interrupted. “I’ve been quite disturbed by Alana’s behavior myself. She’s been troubled recently and I don’t know why. I just hope you’ll be able to help her.”

“If I can’t talk to her, I don’t see how I can help,” Nancy admitted.

“I simply don’t know where she is, Nancy, I’m sorry. As soon as I see her or hear from her, I will insist she return your call, I promise.”

“I don’t want to put any pressure on her,” Nancy murmured. “I’m just worried. She sounded so glad to hear from me and anxious to visit and then . . . nothing.”

“I understand. I’m very worried, too.” Mr. Steele’s voice echoed her anxiety and when she replaced the receiver, Nancy had the chilling feeling that there was a great deal going on that the man hadn’t told her—Alana might even be in some sort of danger.

The afternoon crept by. Nancy dug out the papers her father had been working on and tried to concentrate on them, but her mind kept wandering back to the phone call she’d made to Alana. Finally in a fit of frustration, she shoved the papers back into their folders and dropped on the couch after flipping on the television.

. . a news bulletin,” the television announcer began. “There has been a spectacular robbery at the Steele Gallery in Victoria.” Nancy gasped, her attention fully caught. “The latest word is that only one item was taken in the robbery. Missing is the renowned Eskimo sculpture known as the Tundra, which was due for its first public showing this coming weekend. We were lucky enough to attend a pre-showing and have the following tape of this rare art treasure.”

The screen was suddenly filled with a sight so incredible that Nancy was transfixed. The base of the sculpture was formed by a huge piece of driftwood that undulated in rolling hills and deep wooden valleys. The artist had created a world on the wood, filling the tiny indentations of the driftwood with dried plants and grasses so that it even looked like the photographs she’d seen of the vast frozen tundra.

This world, however, was more than emptiness, for the artist had filled it with what looked like hundreds of tiny carvings. An entire herd of caribou, the large North American cousins of the reindeer, moved through the center of the piece; but they were only a part of it. Wolves harried the herd and several bears were on the fringes. There were even humans dotted here and there in the intricate landscape.

The carvings were incomparably lovely, the animals and people so lifelike it was hard to believe they weren’t real. Nancy felt almost deprived when the tape ended and the newscaster’s face came back on the screen.

“This Eskimo carving, done entirely in ivory, has been something of a mystery to lovers of native art objects and has thus brought a great deal of comment from the art community. To have it stolen on the very eve of its showing—” There was a stir in the crowd behind the newscaster and he turned. “Mr. Steele, Mr. Steele, do you have any word for us? Was anything besides the Tundra taken in the robbery? Do the authorities have any clues?”