Mystery at the Ski Jump
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER I - The Strange Woman
CHAPTER II - A Serious Loss
CHAPTER III - Missing Earrings
CHAPTER IV - More Trouble
CHAPTER V - The Second Nancy
CHAPTER VI - Curious Dealings
CHAPTER VII - The TV Tip-off
CHAPTER VIII - Trapper’s Story
CHAPTER IX - A Disastrous Jump
CHAPTER X - A Surprise Announcement
CHAPTER XI - The Password
CHAPTER XII - Slippery Sidney
CHAPTER XIII - The House Party
CHAPTER XIV - The Fur Thief
CHAPTER XV - Racing a Storm
CHAPTER XVI - An SOS
CHAPTER XVII - The Hidden Cabin
CHAPTER XVIII - A Weird Light
CHAPTER XIX - Zero Hour
CHAPTER XX - The Tables Turned
MYSTERY AT THE SKI JUMP
WHEN Nancy learns that the Drews’ housekeeper has been duped by an elegantly dressed woman into buying a stolen fur piece, the young detective starts a search for the clever swindler. To Nancy’s astonishment, she discovers that the woman is using the name Nancy Drew. The dishonest acts of the impostor point the finger of suspicion at Nancy herself and result in her being questioned by the police.
Nancy’s determination to capture the elusive, dangerous Mitzi Channing takes her to northern New York State and Canada. At a gala winter event Nancy is shocked to hear her name announced as a figure skating champion about to perform. How Nancy meets this situation and turns the tables on Mitzi Channing and her fellow thieves makes another thrilling Carolyn Keene mystery.
“Don’t touch that!” Ned warned. “It’s a trap.”
Copyright © 1996,1968,1952 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved.
Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam &
Grosset Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. S.A.
NANCY DREW MYSTERY STORIES ® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster,
Inc. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
eISBN : 978-1-101-07730-6
2007 Printing
http://us.penguingroup.com
CHAPTER I
The Strange Woman
“BRR-R, it’s cold!”
Nancy Drew shivered and pulled the collar of her coat higher against the driving snow. Determinedly, she ducked her head and pushed along the darkening street, a new pair of skis slung over one shoulder.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a long black car skidded across the sidewalk directly in front of the titian-haired, eighteen-year-old girl.
“Oh!” Nancy cried out, leaping back just in time to keep from being hit. A second later the car crashed into the porch of a nearby house.
As Nancy dashed forward to see if the driver were hurt, the door of the house flew open and the excited owner, Mrs. Martin, rushed out.
“What happened?” she called. Then, seeing the car, Mrs. Martin ran down the snowy steps. “Is someone hurt?”
Nancy had already opened the door on the driver’s side. A slender woman in a fur coat was slumped across the steering wheel.
“Help me bring her into the house,” Mrs. Martin directed. Nancy laid down her skis. Together they carried the unconscious stranger inside and put her on a sofa in the living room.
“I believe she’s only stunned,” Nancy announced, pressing her fingers to the victim’s wrist. “Her pulse is regular and the color’s coming back to her cheeks.”
“Just the same, I think we should call Dr. Britt,” Mrs. Martin said nervously. “Will you do it, Nancy? The phone’s in the hall. I’ll get a blanket upstairs to put over this woman.”
Nancy went to call the doctor. The line was busy and it was a few minutes before she could get a connection.
“Dr. Britt is out,” the nurse reported, “but I’ll give him your message.”
“Thank you.”
Mrs. Martin came down the stairs with a blanket and Nancy told her Dr. Britt would stop there as soon as possible.
“Doctor! Who wants a doctor?” an annoyed voice called from the living room. “I certainly don’t need one. Say, how did I get here?”
Nancy and Mrs. Martin were amazed to see the woman driver sitting up on the sofa. She was removing a make-up kit from the pocket of her coat. She calmly began to powder her face and dab on some exotic perfume as Mrs. Martin explained what had happened.
“Doctor! Who wants a doctor?” the woman protested
“It was the storm,” was all the unexpected visitor said.
Quickly Nancy appraised the woman. She was about thirty-five, strikingly handsome with blue-black hair, pale skin, and high cheekbones. An expensive-looking mink coat was draped nonchalantly over her slim shoulders.
“Why, Mrs. Channing,” Mrs. Martin said suddenly. “I didn’t recognize you. I’m glad you feel better. Nancy, this is Mrs. Channing from the Forest Fur Company.
“Mrs. Channing, I’d like you to meet Nancy Drew. She lives here in River Heights with her father, a famous lawyer. And Nancy herself is one of the best young detectives I ever—”
“Lawyer—detective!” Mrs. Channing cried out. There was such a sharp expression in her dark blue eyes when she looked at Nancy that the girl felt slightly embarrassed.
“At least Dad is a fine lawyer,” Nancy said, smiling. “Sometimes he asks me to help him on his cases. Your work must be interesting, too, Mrs. Channing. I’ve never heard of the Forest Fur Company. Where is it?”
“Oh, we have many branches all over the country.” Mrs. Channing started to rise from the sofa but fell back weakly.
“I think you really should see a doctor,” Nancy suggested kindly. “You’re still shaky from the accident.”
“I’ll be all right!” Mrs. Channing answered emphatically. “Perhaps if I could have a cup of tea—”
Nancy turned to Mrs. Martin. “I think I’d better run along,” she said.
“Oh, it’s so cold outside, do stay and have some tea with us. It won’t take a minute.”
“Thank you, but I really can’t,” Nancy replied. “I’m leaving with Dad on a trip in the morning and have a lot of packing to do.”
Nancy was looking forward to helping her father on a case in Montreal and enjoying some skiing. He had promised to tell her about his work at dinner that night.
A few minutes later she was shaking the snow from her coat and boots on the back porch of the Drew home. Opening the kitchen door, she called, “Hi, Hannah! I’m back.”
“Well, I’m certainly relieved,” replied a motherly voice from the hall. “What a storm! Did you buy the skis?”
“Yes, I did. They’re real beauties. I can’t wait to use them in Montreal.”
Nancy recalled with pleasure her ski weekend there the previous winter. What a wonderful feeling to stand on top of the mountain, in the cold crisp sunny morning, with the white world below her! Then off—down the fast trail to the bottom, concentrating on every turn and twist as the challenging trail demanded. Nancy had become so proficient that she had won the novice ladies’ slalom race, successfully turning through all the slalom gates, in the fastest time.
Nancy smiled to herself as she thought of the “slalom gates,” which were really just flags on tall poles stuck in the snow. Funny-looking “gates”!
The Drews’ middle-aged housekeeper walked into the kitchen and smiled affectionately at Nancy. Hannah Gruen had been with the family ever since Mrs. Drew had died when Nancy was a small child.
“I was delayed by an accident.” Nancy explained what had happened. “I’m afraid Mrs. Martin’s porch will need a lot o
f repairing.”
The conversation was interrupted by a telephone call from Nancy’s friend, Ned Nickerson, inviting her to a fraternity dance at Emerson College the next month. She accepted gaily, then went upstairs to start packing. Five minutes later Hannah bustled into the bedroom.
“Look what I have to show you!” the housekeeper exclaimed.
Nancy’s eyes gleamed. “A mink stole! It’s beautiful!”
“It was such a bargain, I couldn’t resist it,” Hannah explained excitedly. “I’ve always wanted a fur stole but never felt I could afford it.”
Nancy took the fur piece and laid it around her own shoulders. “It’s gorgeous,” she said. “Where did you buy it?”
“From a simply charming woman,” Hannah replied. “She represents the Forest Fur Company. You see, she had already sold a stole to my friend Esther Mills. And Esther suggested—”
Nancy was not listening. At mention of the Forest Fur Company, her thoughts went racing back to the mysterious Mrs. Channing.
“Nancy, do you think I was foolish?” the housekeeper asked anxiously as the girl frowned.
“I’m not sure,” Nancy answered absently. “It does look like a good fur piece. But it’s an odd way to sell expensive furs.”
“I hope everything’s all right,” said Hannah, a worried look replacing her former eagerness. “I also invested some money in Forest Fur Company stock. The woman, a Mrs. Channing, sold me ten shares. I paid her fifty dollars for it. But I’m sure it’s okay. I have the certificate in my bureau drawer.”
“Where is this woman staying?” Nancy asked.
“Why, I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.”
At that moment Nancy heard the front door close and the sound of her father’s firm footsteps in the hall. She put her arm about Hannah’s shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze.
“Don’t worry. I’ll run down and talk this over with Dad,” she assured the housekeeper. “Perhaps he knows the Forest Fur Company.”
“Hello, dear.” Tall, handsome Carson Drew met his daughter at the bottom step and kissed her. “Do I detect a worried look in those pretty blue eyes?”
“Well, something’s on my mind,” Nancy admitted. She told her father about Mrs. Channing and the Forest Fur Company.
“I’ve never heard of the firm,” the lawyer remarked when she finished. “But I certainly don’t like the way they do business. No reliable company would peddle expensive furs and stock from door to door at bargain prices. Please ask Hannah to let me see her certificate.”
After reading it, he admitted it looked all right, but added that he thought the company should be investigated.
“Mrs. Channing must still be at Mrs. Martin’s,” Nancy said excitedly. “Suppose I go over there and talk to her.”
“Fine.” Carson Drew nodded. “I’ll join you. We can’t let our Hannah be taken in by swindlers.”
The Martin home was only two blocks away. As the Drews reached it, Nancy noticed that Mrs. Channing’s car was gone. She dashed up the broken porch steps and rang the bell hurriedly. The door swung open.
“Mrs. Martin,” Nancy asked, “has Mrs. Channing left already?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Martin’s eyes blazed. “To put it bluntly, Nancy, Mrs. Channing ran out on me. When I brought that tea she asked for, she was gone. And her car too! And not one word did she say about paying for the damage she did to my porch!”
“What’s her address?” Nancy asked quickly.
Mrs. Martin looked startled. “I don’t know!”
CHAPTER II
A Serious Loss
MRS. MARTIN invited Nancy and her father into the house and offered them chairs before the crackling blaze in the fireplace.
“I suppose I’ll never find Mrs. R. I. Channing,” she sputtered. “But that Forest Fur Company will pay for repairing my porch! Don’t you think they should, Mr. Drew?”
“That depends on whether or not Mrs. Channing was using a car of theirs, or at least was doing business for them at the time of the accident. Suppose you tell us everything you know about this woman.”
Before Mrs. Martin could start, they heard the sound of heavy feet on the porch stamping off snow. This was followed by the sound of the door buzzer. The caller was Dr. Britt, tired and cold after his long drive through the storm. When he learned that the accident victim had left in such a rude way, the physician was indignant.
“I don’t blame you for being angry, Mrs. Martin,” he agreed, stepping into the living room. “Anyone as ungrateful as Mrs. Channing doesn’t deserve sympathy. Good evening, Mr. Drew. Hello, Nancy.”
Mrs. Martin indicated a fourth chair facing the fire. “You sit here and rest, Doctor,” she urged. “I was just going to tell what I know about Mrs. Channing.
“She came here two days ago and sold me a mink boa and some stock in a fur company. She promised that the stock would make me a great deal of money. But now I don’t trust her. You know what I think? That she ran away from here because of you, Nancy.”
“What!”
“Before I went to get the tea,” Mrs. Martin explained, “I told her how many cases you had solved yourself—not just for your father. Like The Clue of the Black Keys and The Secret of the Wooden Lady. Now that I think of it, I believe Mrs. Channing got scared and left. We’ll never find her.”
“Mrs. Channing also sold a mink stole and some stock to our housekeeper, Hannah Gruen,” Nancy volunteered. “That’s why I came back here.”
Dr. Britt looked thoughtful. “Channing-Channing!” he murmured. “I thought that name sounded familiar. Now I remember. My nurse, Ida Compton, showed me a fur piece and a certificate for stock she had purchased from a woman named Channing.”
“This is very interesting,” Mr. Drew spoke up. “Nancy, why don’t you see Miss Compton and find out if she can give you some additional information about Mrs. Channing?”
“I certainly will, Dad. But by the time we get back from Montreal—”
“I’d suggest that you stay here a couple of days and see what you can find out,” the lawyer said. “You can follow me later.”
He arose, adding that Hannah Gruen probably was becoming uneasy over their absence. She would want to know what they had learned about Mrs. Channing.
“And the delicious dinner I smelled will be spoiled,” Nancy said, smiling.
“Let me drive you,” the doctor offered. “Fortunately the storm is dying down. It should be fair by morning.”
When the Drews arrived home, Mrs. Gruen met them with questioning eyes. They told her the truth but begged her not to worry about the fur-company stock.
“It may be a good investment,” the lawyer said cheerfully, although he doubted it. “And now, how about some food? This is the best eating place in the country, Hannah.”
The housekeeper beamed. “Tonight it’s pot roast and big browned potatoes exactly as you like them.”
“Dessert?”
“Your favorite pie. Apple with lots of cinnamon.” Mrs. Gruen turned to Nancy. “Bess Marvin phoned. She’s coming over after dinner. And George—I never can get used to a girl with a boy’s name—will be here too.”
“Grand!” said Nancy. “The three of us will hold a farewell party for you, Dad.”
Bess and her cousin George Fayne arrived at eight o’clock. Clad in boots and ski pants, they were in the highest spirits in spite of the cold. George, a trim-looking girl with short, black hair and an athletic swing to her shoulders, was the first through the door.
“Hypers! Isn’t this storm something?” she exclaimed. “Old Man Winter is certainly doing his best to blow our town off the map.” She panted. “One more big puff and I’d probably have landed on top a church steeple.”
Bess giggled. “That would be something—you flapping about like a weather vane!”
“Bet I could point in all directions at once,” George retorted.
“Well, I’d rather stay inside,” said Bess, blond and pretty. “Maybe we can make some fudge,” s
he added hopefully. Bess loved sweets and worried little about her weight.
“I’m afraid there won’t be time for fudge,” said Nancy. “The fact is, I have some work for both of you.”
“Nancy! You don’t mean you’re on the trail of another mystery?” George asked eagerly.
“Could be,” Nancy answered, her eyes twinkling. Quickly she briefed her friends about Mrs. R. I. Channing and her questionable method of selling stock and furs.
“I’ve just been examining the stock certificate she gave Hannah,” the young detective went on. “It gives the headquarters of the Forest Fur Company as Dunstan Lake, Vermont. But, girls, I’ve looked in the atlas and there’s no such place as Dunstan Lake, Vermont.”
“Too small, maybe,” George suggested.
“Dad has a directory published by the Post Office Department,” Nancy went on. “It’s not in there, either.”
“Then it must be a phony outfit!” Bess declared.
“Perhaps,” Nancy agreed. “Anyway, I must find that Mrs. Channing as soon as possible.”
“We’ll help you search,” George said eagerly. “Just give the orders!”
“Okay.” Nancy grinned. “Suppose you two call all the garages in town and see if anyone brought in a long black car with damaged front fenders. Meanwhile, I’ll use the private phone in Dad’s study and call the local inns and motels to see if a Mrs. Channing is registered.”
When the girls met again twenty minutes later, all of them reported complete failure. Because of the weather, Bess and George were sure Mrs. Channing could not have driven far. She probably had stayed with a friend.
“Unless she registered at a hotel under another name,” Nancy mused.
Mr. Drew joined them in a farewell snack, then kissed Nancy good night. He told her he would be gone before the three girls were awake, then asked:
“What’s your next move?”
“To call on Ida Compton.”
The next morning was crisp and sunny. Giant snowplows, working all night, had effectively cleared the highways. At ten o’clock the three girls were seated in Nancy’s sleek convertible, on their way to consult the nurse. Nancy pulled up at Dr. Britt’s office.