Trail of Lies (6 page)

Nancy heard the hurt in George's voice and tried to soothe her. “Maybe it's just chemistry,” she suggested. “We didn't hit it off from the beginning. But I don't think it's anything to worry about. I can take it.”

“I don't know.” George sounded miserable. “I just wish I knew what the problem was.”

Me, too, Nancy thought to herself.

They climbed the porch stairs and let themselves in the front door of the house. The dining room was empty, and there was no sign of Carson, Henry, Craig, or Steve.

“I wonder where the guys are,” George said.

Just then, loud voices carried through the door of the den.

“Calm down, Steve!” Craig's voice said.

Steve's voice was anything but calm. “I don't care what you say,” he shouted. “I don't want Nancy Drew here. She'll mess up everything!”

T
HE DOOR
of the den flew open, and Steve stormed into the hallway. At the sight of the girls, his face flushed red with embarrassment.

“I think you owe Nancy—” George started to say.

Nancy quickly shushed her. If Steve made an apology, she wanted it to be because he decided to, not because George shamed him into it.

“Good night, George,” Steve said stiffly. He headed for the stairs without even acknowledging Nancy's presence.

“Steve!” George started to follow him, but the look he gave her stopped her in her tracks.

“You could call that bad chemistry,” Nancy
said with an attempt at humor after Steve had disappeared.

“More like bad manners,” George countered glumly. “I just don't understand him.”

Craig came to the door of the den.

“Can I talk to you, Nancy?” he asked quietly.

George flashed Nancy a smile. “I'm off to bed,” she murmured, then started up the stairs.

“What is it, Craig?” Nancy asked, walking into the den. Craig motioned her to a chair, but she remained standing.

“I—I just want to apologize for Steve,” he said. “His manners have been atrocious. But believe me, that's not the real Steve.”

Nancy bit her tongue. It was the only Steve she'd seen.

“He's not himself,” Craig continued. “He's awfully upset about the smuggling and what the charges could mean to his father. I guess the strain has made him snap at everyone around him.”

Privately, Nancy didn't think Steve had shown all that much concern about his father's troubles, but she wasn't going to argue with Craig. “It's a tough situation,” she said neutrally. “Look, Craig, don't worry about me. If Steve has something against me, that's his problem. There's nothing any of us can do
about it.” Stifling a yawn with her hand, she added, “Now, I've got to get to bed before I fall asleep on my feet.”

That wasn't strictly true. Nancy needed to be alone so she could think about what she'd just heard. What had Steve meant by saying she would “mess up everything”?

What did Steve have to fear from Nancy? His outburst made no sense whatsoever—unless he was the smuggler. Then he would have reason to fear Nancy, because she might uncover his scheme.

It was a great theory, except for one thing: from what she had seen in the past day, Steve Wilcox had everything money could buy. He apparently had no motive to smuggle!

• • •

As she drove to the Wilcox Shipping offices the next morning, Nancy couldn't help feeling happy. No matter how little progress she had made on the case, it was a beautiful day. Once again, the dark sky was clear, with a reddish tint in the east that meant the sun was going to rise soon. Before she reached downtown Anchorage, the fiery red ball had climbed over the Chugach Mountains.

She gazed in wonder at one peak, soaring above the others. At first she'd thought it was a cloud, hovering on top of the mountains. Then she realized the huge mass of white was a
snow-covered mountain—Mount McKinley. No wonder the Inuits called it the Great One! It was so tall it dwarfed the rest of the range. Nancy wondered whether George could see McKinley from wherever she and Steve were training the dogs. She hoped so.

The shipping offices were located on Anchorage's main street, Fourth Avenue. Nancy had no trouble finding the building. She parked and went in, taking the stairs to the second-floor offices.

“Is Mr. Wilcox here?” Nancy asked the receptionist. She gazed around curiously. Like Henry Wilcox's house, the Wilcox Shipping offices were attractively decorated and exuded an air of prosperity.

“I'm sorry, but he was called away.” The woman gave Nancy an appraising look. “Are you Nancy Drew?”

At Nancy's nod, the receptionist told her, “Mr. Wilcox said Amanda Spear could help you. Third cubicle on the right.”

Nancy felt a momentary frustration. She'd wanted to talk to Henry about John's previous employer. Now she'd have to wait.

“Good morning,” she said as she poked her head into Amanda's cubicle.

Amanda was seated at a large desk staring intently at a computer screen. She started at Nancy's voice, then smiled nervously. “Hi.”

Nancy took one of the visitors' chairs. “I was hoping to talk to you at the track yesterday,” she said.

“Too bad you didn't stay. Lindsay trounced Steve.” There was no hiding the satisfaction in Amanda's voice.

Nancy looked around the cubicle. Other than a nice desk clock, there were no personal possessions, none of the usual pictures and knickknacks that told a lot about the person who worked in an office. The only thing that appeared to belong to Amanda was the fox jacket she'd worn the other night. It was hanging from a hook in one corner.

“Did Mr. Wilcox tell you I was coming?” Nancy asked.

Amanda unclasped her hands and began to twist the huge gold ring on her right hand. “Yes. He says you're a detective,” she said. Her voice quavered ever so slightly. “You're the first one I've met.”

Nancy smiled. “I hope you're not disappointed—I'm not wearing a trench coat or carrying a magnifying glass or anything.” She wanted to put Amanda at ease. The young woman was obviously nervous about this visit. Why was that?

“So what are you investigating?” Amanda twisted her ring again and glanced at the clock.

Nancy and Henry had agreed last night that it was best not to tell the company's employees
about the smuggling. “Oh, I'm just helping Mr. Wilcox out with a little problem,” Nancy said vaguely. “I'd like to take a look at the shipping records and the company financial statements.”

Was it Nancy's imagination, or did Amanda grow a shade paler at her request?

“Oh—sure. Let me set you up,” Amanda said quickly. She led the way to an empty cubicle. “You can work in here—no one will bother you. I'll get the books.”

A few minutes later she returned with three large binders, which she deposited in front of Nancy. Thanking her, Nancy pulled out a calculator and a pad of paper and got to work.

As she looked through the company's financial information, Nancy began to wish she knew more about accounting. Everything looked in order to her, but she was having a hard time following all the columns of debits and credits. She flipped to the payroll but soon gave up—that was even more confusing.

One thing seemed certain from these accounts, however: Wilcox Shipping was indeed a very prosperous company. The numbers at the bottom of each column showed clear profits. Nancy was glad. The case against her father's friend was looking weaker, since he had no obvious motive to smuggle.

Nancy pulled out the shipping records to look at the cargo list for the
Musk Ox'
s last
trip. She studied the sheets for the shipments of beans and cookies. They showed the same information she'd seen stenciled on the outside of the cartons. The packers for each were different. So were the companies who were supposed to receive the food.

The
Musk Ox
had stopped in four ports to pick up cargo, she noted. Where had Detective Chandler said the beans were picked up? She looked at the sheet again. Seattle. And the cookies?

Aha! A smile of satisfaction spread across Nancy's face. The cookies had come from Seattle, too. So both pallets with ivory in them had been loaded there. It was the first link she'd found.

Eagerly she searched through the manifest, looking for other cargo that had been loaded in Seattle. There was only one other entry—three pallets of paperback books. If her theory was correct, one of those pallets might contain a carton of carved ivory figurines rather than books.

There was only one way to find out. But first she had one more binder of company records to search. She started looking through the personnel records for Wilcox Shipping. Her eyes widened in surprise at an unexpected name on the employee roster: Steven Wilcox.

Now, why didn't anyone mention to me that Steve worked at his father's company? Nancy
thought. She skimmed through his file. Steve had worked in accounting, like Amanda. He had quit without notice six weeks ago. According to the books, he had resigned, but no reason was given.

Was there any significance in the date? Or in the fact that Steve and Amanda had worked together? Nancy resolved to question Amanda as soon as she was done with the books.

Craig's records appeared to be in order. He normally worked four days a week, as he'd said, with an occasional night or two of overtime. Nothing unusual there.

Finally, Nancy checked Amanda's salary. She earned a modest amount. It was enough to afford a nice apartment if she had a roommate, but Nancy could see no way Amanda's salary could stretch to afford two fur coats and a huge gold ring.

Unless Amanda had another source of income.

Suddenly Nancy was very interested in the bookkeeper. Amanda's evident alarm when Nancy had asked to see the books, combined with her obviously extravagant lifestyle, suggested that she was up to something. Was it something illegal? Something to do with smuggling ivory aboard her employer's ships?

Yes, it was time to talk to Amanda.

Nancy walked back to Amanda's cubicle, but it was empty. The fox jacket was no longer
hanging on its hook. “You just missed her,” the girl across the aisle called. “If you hurry, you might catch her at the elevator.”

Nancy grabbed her coat and sprinted out of the office. Amanda wasn't in the hallway. Nancy saw that the elevator was way up at the top floor. There had to be a stairway. She looked down the hallway and saw a red exit sign at the far end.

Nancy ran, pushed open the door, and started down the stairs. Her boots clattered on the cement and echoed in the stairwell.

Suddenly a tremendous force hit her from behind, pushing her off balance. Her arms flailed wildly, but it was no use.

In a moment, she was tumbling down the stairs head over heels!

J
UST BEFORE SHE HIT
the cement landing, Nancy twisted her body sideways, tucked her head, and flung her arms out to absorb the shock.

She landed with a thud and lay there for a moment, stunned. Then, gingerly, she moved her arms and legs. Nothing seemed to be broken.

Groaning slightly, she reached up and felt her head. It was still there. She was thankful she'd learned how to fall properly in her martial arts classes. Though she was going to be badly bruised, she had no serious injuries.

Nancy stood up and gazed at the stairwell. She saw no one, but there was no doubt in her mind that someone had pushed her.

Amanda knew I was here, Nancy thought. She shivered. Would Amanda have the strength—or the nerve—to push someone down the stairs? It was impossible to say.

Nancy took a few moments to catch her breath and smooth her clothes. Then she went back to the Wilcox Shipping offices. There she spotted two familiar faces by the receptionist's desk.

“John, Craig! I didn't know you were going to be here!” Nancy exclaimed.

Craig greeted her. “There was a mix-up with my overtime pay on Friday, so Mr. Wilcox said he'd have another check ready for me this morning.” He grinned. “You know what it's like when you've spent the check before you get it.”