Murder on Ice

by Carolyn Keene

  Suddenly the librarian was standing right beside Nancy. Nancy flushed and closed the magazine quickly. She’d been caught reading when she should have just photocopied the story and left. “Here’s another article,” the librarian was saying. “If you’re going to copy anything, please do it fast.”

  “Thanks. And could you please reserve these for me? My name’s Nancy Drew.” Nancy hurried over to the photocopying machine. As she copied the scandal article, her eyes scanned the other periodical the librarian had produced. It, too, dealt with the Mueller accident.

  . . . both lost—Dieter Mueller, his life, in a fatal fall, and Jon Berntsen, the chance to become an Olympic winner. Berntsen’s crash left him with leg injuries and a concussion. When he came to, Berntsen claimed to have amnesia, and no memory of anything just prior to the race.

  However, sympathy for the young athlete quickly turned to suspicion when Mueller’s bindings showed evidence of tampering. Berntsen disappeared before he could be charged, which has been generally regarded as proof of his guilt. Mueller’s cousin, Gerhardt Mueller, also a member of the German ski team, vowed to make Berntsen pay for what he had done.

  The librarian was putting on her coat and she looked impatient. “I’m ready to leave,” she called.

  Quickly Nancy copied the second article. As she picked up the copies, she noticed a photograph of the American ski team.

  Berntsen. The name leaped out at her from the caption. Third from left, last row. Nancy looked intently, and her heart turned over. It was a picture of Luke Ericsen!

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  NANCY DIDN’T HAVE time to study either the original magazine picture or the copy she’d made of it. The librarian was at her elbow, visibly annoyed. “Young lady, please. We must close now!”

  “I’m coming!” Nancy said hastily. She thrust the photocopies inside her jacket and hurried to the door. “I’m really sorry to have kept you, but it was important.”

  The librarian sighed. “It’s all right, but now I hope you’ll get back to your hotel as fast as you can. Tourists/” she added under her breath as Nancy passed her.

  The wind was howling and whipping the snow into the air. Stores and businesses were closed in anticipation of the storm as Nancy skied through the center of town, her mind whirling.

  According to Michael, Luke had loaned Mueller some defective ski equipment, which had caused the accident. But the magazine article said something completely different, that Luke—or Jon Berntsen—had challenged Mueller to a dangerous nighttime race which had resulted in his death.

  Why had Michael changed the story? And why hadn’t he called Luke by his real name? Was he trying to help Luke keep his awful secret? He certainly didn’t act as if he wanted to do him any favors.

  But even with her new information, one thing didn’t change. Luke most likely was still guilty of manslaughter, if not murder! Could he have heard Bess mentioning that Nancy was a detective? That would explain those “accidents”—he’d be trying to get rid of Nancy and Ned so they wouldn’t find out about his past.

  But what about the letters in the snow? They made no sense. Unless . . . Nancy caught her breath. One of the articles had mentioned Dieter Mueller’s vengeful cousin. Maybe he was after Luke (or Jon Berntsen). Maybe he was responsible for everything that had been going on at Webb Cove.

  Nancy thought hard. Who around Webb Cove could be Mueller’s relative? Michael? He was involved in the case somehow, and he certainly didn’t like Luke. But he wasn’t German.

  Wait a minute, Nancy told herself sharply. Gunther is German. And he was at the lodge when the prowler episodes began. It would have been the easiest thing in the world for him to sneak out of the lodge at night and leave the message in the snow or damage the rope tow and the skis.

  Nancy’s jumbled thoughts began to take shape. Gunther had plenty of skiing know-how, from his experience on the German alpine rescue team. And he’d been cozying up to Bess since the very beginning, possibly to keep Nancy from suspecting him. He’d definitely put himself in a position where he found out much of what Nancy did or discovered. Nancy hadn’t been very candid with Gunther, but Bess undoubtedly had.

  Oh, great! Nancy thought, aghast. Either way, one of my best friends ends up falling for a killer. The only saving grace is that if Gunther is a Mueller, he’d have no reason to attack anyone but Luke.

  Unless someone else became a threat!

  Nancy reached the edge of the town and began cutting through the fields. Her eyes scanned the snow carefully, watching for obstacles. At the same time, her mind clicked along like a computer.

  Luke as the target of a killer made more sense than Luke as a killer himself. Unfortunately, the killer was very reckless, and didn’t care who else got caught in the traps he set.

  The thought that Ned could have met Dieter Mueller’s fate sent a shudder through Nancy. She stopped and leaned against a tree for a minute before going on. She was very conscious of how alone and unprotected she was there in the woods, in semidarkness.

  The snow was whirling wildly, but through it, Nancy could make out a crossroads not far ahead. She had reached the bottom of Webb Cove Road. The slope would be murder to climb. She glanced around. Suddenly, she caught sight of a figure in a red-and-blue ski jacket some distance behind her. Whoever it was apparently hadn’t seen her yet.

  Acting on instinct, Nancy pulled herself behind a large fir tree and crouched down. She waited, concealed by the woods and the snow, as the figure approached and passed. It was Luke, also on cross-country skis. When he was a few yards past her, she cautiously pulled herself upright and began to follow him.

  Luke made no attempt to ski along the road. He was heading toward the lodge, but by a circuitous route, one that was easier than heading straight up the hill. Luke reached the crest of the last rise before the lodge and then disappeared behind the hill. Panting, Nancy reached the top a few moments later. She skied down the incline after Luke.

  He was not heading for the lodge after all, she realized then, but toward the shed that housed Liz’s electric generator. What’s he up to? Nancy asked herself, frowning.

  She decided on a bold move. Giving him just time enough to get inside but not, she hoped, time to lock the door, she skied straight to the building.

  She was in luck. The door was not locked, and she pushed it open. Luke was bent over the generator, and as he felt the rush of cold air he straightened quickly. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

  “I went to town to get parts for Liz’s shortwave radio, if you must know,” Luke said coldly. “It’s not working right, and we’ll need it if the telephone lines go down. And since there’s a major blizzard in progress, it did occur to me to check the generator to make sure it’s working properly! What were you sneaking around the woods for?”

  “I went to the library to get some books to read,” Nancy said primly.

  Luke gave a harsh laugh. “Well, you can’t read them here! Go back to the lodge and curl up by the fire with your boyfriend. You’ll get yourself in a lot less trouble that way!” He waited pointedly for her to leave, then followed, locking the shed door behind them. “And don’t come back here.”

  Luke didn’t accompany her in the direction of the lodge, but took off as soon as he had snapped on his skis. He went by a path Nancy had not noticed before. After giving him a few moments’ head start, Nancy followed.

  She kept her eyes glued to Luke. Where was he going in the middle of the storm, anyway? Nancy couldn’t tell where the path was leading. But she did see something else.

  Barely visible in the thickening blizzard was a rope strung across the trail at neck height. Anyone skiing quickly down that path would be caught right across the throat. Nancy watched in horror as Luke headed toward it. He was skiing swiftly into a death trap!

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  LOOK OUT!” Nancy screamed. “Luke!” />
  Luke reacted an instant too late. He carved a tight turn and tried to brake, but the rope caught him squarely across the forehead and he was thrown to the ground. At least he wasn’t badly hurt. Immediately, he pulled himself up to a sitting position and groaned, rubbing his head.

  “Are you all right?” Nancy called, skiing over and kneeling beside him. He nodded vaguely.

  “Don’t try to talk.” Nancy pulled off his cap. She noticed that it was actually a blue-and-white ski mask with the lower part rolled into a cuff. “If you’d kept this pulled down over your face, you’d have made out better,” Nancy said, looking at the broad rope burn Luke had received above the eyebrows.

  “What hit me, anyway?” Luke muttered.

  “There’s a rope strung across the path. If you hadn’t ducked, it would have caught you right across the throat.” Nancy squinted down the path. “Where does this trail lead, anyway?”

  “To Liz’s storage shed. I needed to get some storm supplies.”

  “Who knew you were coming here?” Nancy demanded.

  “I don’t know. Nobody. Anybody.” Luke pulled himself to his feet. “Liz and I are the only ones who use this trail.”

  “Luke, who’s trying to harm you?” Nancy asked gently. “Please tell me. I can help.”

  Luke turned and looked straight at her, his face deeply troubled. “There’s only one way you can help. Clear out! All of you! Before the blizzard shuts you in!”

  “All of us? Including George?”

  “Especially George! She’s terrific, and I don’t want her getting hurt!” Abruptly, Luke turned and pushed off into the woods.

  Nancy headed for the lodge, thinking hard. Now I know where Luke fits in—as prospective victim. And he knows who’s trying to kill him, she decided, but he’s been trying to keep me from finding out because then he’d have to tell me the whole story. Luke doesn’t want anyone to know he’s Berntsen, because Dieter Mueller’s suspicious death is still hanging over his head!

  That was the only logical explanation for the way Luke had been acting—and the way George had been acting, too. George must have recognized Luke as Jon Berntsen from all the Olympic coverage she’d watched on TV! It was just like George to protect and defend him, if she believed he’d been accused unjustly of Dieter Mueller’s death.

  But someone else at Webb Cove didn’t believe that accusation was unjust. That person could be Dieter Mueller’s good friend, Michael Price. Or he could be a relative of Dieter Mueller—Gunther?

  When Nancy reached the lodge she leaned her skis against the porch wall and hurried into the lounge without even taking off her jacket. Everything in the lodge seemed incongruously calm. A fire burned as always, Ned and George were playing Monopoly, and Gunther and Bess were snuggling by the fire. They all turned and looked at Nancy as she entered.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Nancy!” Bess said, giggling at her snow-covered friend. “In fact, you look like a ghost yourself!”

  “We almost did have a ghost,” Nancy said bluntly. “Luke almost got killed.”

  George gasped and immediately started for the door.

  “Sit down!” Nancy said firmly. “He’s all right, and he’s gone off somewhere. Besides, for your own protection, he doesn’t want you with him.” She turned to Ned. “We need to talk. Alone. Now.”

  “But what happened to Luke?” George cried.

  “I’ll tell you the whole story later,” Nancy replied, taking Ned’s hand and leading him toward the kitchen.

  Nancy pulled up two chairs and, in a low voice, told him about her morning and her suspicion about Gunther.

  “Here.” Nancy pulled the two articles out of her jacket. “Read these.”

  “Luke’s Berntsen, all right,” Ned said when he’d finished reading and had examined the picture. “If Gunther is out to get him, I don’t want George caught in the cross fire.”

  “Me neither,” Nancy said. “But we can’t get George to leave.”

  “Look,” Ned said, “I’ll try to convince her to go. Maybe she’ll listen to me.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Nancy said.

  They went back to the lounge and found that Gunther was gone. I hope Luke’s keeping his eyes open for trouble, Nancy thought anxiously, but there was nothing she could do to help him.

  Ned immediately took George off alone. When they came back, she said to the others, “You guys go pack. I,” she added defiantly, “am going to tell Luke we’re leaving, even if I have to ski this whole mountain range to do it!”

  Nancy and Bess headed for the bunk room and started throwing their clothes quickly into their bags. We’ll head straight for the police, Nancy thought. I bet we can wrap up the case in no time flat.

  “It’s too bad we’re leaving early,” Bess said, “but I won’t mind so much if Gunther decides to come with us.”

  Nancy looked at her friend sympathetically. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Bess,” she said, “but I don’t think he will.” She gave a rapid summary of her suspicions about Gunther. “If he’s the one who’s after Luke, I’m sure he’ll stay for the storm and try to finish him off. And if that’s so, I just hope we can get the police out here before that happens.”

  Bess’s face was flushed. “Gunther isn’t out to kill Luke,” she said steadily. “I know him.”

  “We’ve all been fooled by people who seemed nice,” Nancy said.

  Bess frowned at her. “Think what you want, but you’ll find out you’re wrong. Anyway, the thing that matters most is getting out of here. After all, somebody around here is a potential killer, and I don’t want to be around if and when he succeeds. Come on, let’s finish packing. I’ll get George’s stuff for her.”

  Within an hour they were loading Nancy’s car. Ned got the battery recharged, so there were no start-up problems. The power lines were down and Liz was using candles, firewood, and the generator out back to run the lodge. Gunther, as Nancy had predicted, had decided to stay on. George was close-mouthed and somber, standing mournfully beside Luke.

  The snow was coming down much harder. The lodge looked like something from a dark fairy tale, with lights burning only in the windows of the lounge. For a moment, that picture crystallized in Nancy’s mind—the dark lodge; Luke deeply anxious and frightened; George, also frightened but defiant; Liz trying to be strong.

  Then the image was broken by a voice calling cheerfully, “Hey, there.”

  It was Michael Price on cross-country skis, coming from the direction of the Overlook and carrying a loaded backpack. “Where are you people going?” he asked.

  “Someplace safe,” Luke replied stiffly. “Why are you here?”

  Michael stared at Luke for a moment with a decidedly unfriendly air. Then he turned to Nancy. “I’m sorry you waited so long to leave. There’s no point in trying to get out now. I heard at the hotel that the fallen power lines have blocked the roads to the highway. That’s why I’m here—I brought you some supplies.” He pointed to his backpack.

  “We have enough, but thanks for the thought,” Liz said quietly. “Why don’t you all come back in?”

  Michael set his backpack on the porch and helped Luke unload the luggage from the car. Suddenly Luke turned angrily away.

  “I’m going to ski over to the hotel to see if I can get a two-way radio from somebody there,” he said. “Ours is out of commission. I can’t get it to work at all.”

  “Wait, Luke. I’ll go with you,” George cried.

  Luke turned, a gentle smile lighting his face as he looked at George. “No,” he told her. “You stay here for now. But I’ll meet you up at Lookout Ledge at nine o’clock, okay?” He turned to Michael. “I hope you’re gone by the time I get back.” With that, he stalked away.

  “There’s that temper,” Michael said to Nancy, shaking his head. “See what I mean?”

  But George overheard the comment. “If Luke’s furious, you made him that way,” she snapped.

  “Now, wait a minute—”

/>   “No! You wait! I know exactly what you’re up to, and I think you’re disgusting! You’re deliberately loading a guilt trip on him—” George broke off, her eyes blazing, and stormed into the lodge.

  “What did I do?” Michael asked.

  “You set that up,” Nancy answered absently. But her mind was on other things. In a way, she decided, she was glad they were staying on at the lodge. Now she would have to solve the mystery herself.

  The rest of the time before dinner passed uncomfortably. Bess remembered that she had a small pocket radio somewhere in her luggage, and she dug it out. It produced mostly static, but provided a much-needed distraction.

  Gunther asked her to dance to some barely audible rock music. From a news bulletin on the radio, they heard that, although the snow had stopped momentarily, the worst of the blizzard was yet to hit.

  At last Liz brought in a huge pot of stew and set it on the table. “Dinner!” she announced.

  Bess left to get George but came back to report that George wasn’t eating.

  “Oh, yes, she is,” Liz said grimly. “I’m sick and tired of all the emotional carrying on around here!” She stalked off in the direction of the dorm and reappeared with an angry-looking George in tow.

  “I’d better beat the second onslaught of the storm,” Michael said. “Wish I could stay for dinner, but I don’t think it’s such a great idea.”

  “Thanks for the provisions. I hope you get home safely,” Liz said.

  The others, except for George, said good-bye, and then they all sat down to dinner. They were just finishing when the old wall clock began chiming the half-hour—eight-thirty.

  George rose from the table and strode to the door. “I’m going to meet Luke at the ledge,” she said, as if daring her friends to try to stop her. She quickly put on her outdoor clothes, then stepped out into the storm.

  Nancy stood up. “I’m going to follow her.”

  Ned rose too. I’ll go with you.”