The Mystery of the Indian Carvings

by Gloria Repp

  “I found the totem pole in my cave this morning,” he said. “Someone must have put it there last night. Did you know it has an inner compartment?”

  “No, what do you mean?”

  “It was easy to see.” He looked upset. “The pole is cracked up the back. Someone either dropped it or hammered at it, and the compartment is easy to get into.”

  “Was there anything in it?”

  “A piece of paper with Indian crests. The wolf symbol, and two others I’d have to guess at.”

  Julie frowned. “What could it be for?”

  “Must be something of Dr. Fletcher’s. Maybe a code of some kind,” Robert said. “But someone else already knows about it—whoever put it in my cave.”

  “Do you think Karin did it?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. Like I told you, she’s bad inside.”

  “She’s hurting inside too,” Julie said softly. “I wonder if that’s why she tries to hurt other people.”

  “You don’t seem to hate her so much anymore,” Robert said.

  She saw the curiosity in his dark eyes. It was hard to put into words what she was beginning to learn, but she said, “God’s love is stronger than mine.”

  A sudden thought distracted her. “What if it wasn’t Karin? Do you think someone might be trying to . . .” She hesitated. How much did he know about Uncle Nate’s job?

  “Trying to find out the secrets of your uncle’s research?” Robert finished her question. “Could be. They could have copied the information from that paper and then put the totem pole in my cave. It’s a handy way to get rid of it and avoid suspicion at the same time.”

  “Where is it?” she said. “Did you bring the paper with you?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m on my way to work. I hid it back by the cave. Where’s your uncle?”

  “He’s working. He gave instructions not to be disturbed, and I’d be scared to go near him.” She looked at Robert anxiously. “What do you think we should we do?”

  Robert took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll meet you after work, down by the cave.” He paused. “How about 6:30? We’ll figure out what to do with the pole, and your uncle might be finished by then. See you later.”

  As Julie walked back to the house, she thought about the piece of paper. What if the Indian crests were hiding some kind of information? It was strange that Robert didn’t know what they meant, but he’d told her that the old Indian ways weren’t being taught anymore.

  If only she knew more about Indian crests! Maybe she could find a book in the library.

  Aunt Myra sat hunched over the kitchen counter with her head in her hands. Once more, Julie felt an unfamiliar stirring of pity.

  “What’s the matter, Aunt Myra?” she asked “Is it your head again?”

  Her aunt nodded feebly.

  “Can I get you something?”

  “Just that bottle of pills on the windowsill. This is a bad one, the worst migraine I’ve had for months.”

  Julie gave her the pills. “Why don’t you go to bed and stay there?” she said. “I can heat up the casserole for supper, and Karin won’t be back till late.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that.” Her aunt swallowed a pill with the rest of her tea. “These pills are so strong, they put me to sleep, but I just . . . I can’t go on like this.”

  She stood up and shuffled away. “Julie, don’t forget, your uncle does not want to be interrupted. He’s working on something terribly important.”

  After her aunt left, Julie searched through the Indian reference books in the library and found crests for Wolf, Raven, Bear, Dogfish, Beaver, Hawk, Frog, and more. Some of them looked alike, too. No wonder Robert hadn’t been sure. She studied them carefully and read the explanation for each one.

  But what special meaning could they have, printed on a piece of paper and stuffed into a totem pole?

  Still thinking about the crests, she picked out a book to read, made herself a peanut-butter sandwich, and went down to sit on the rocks. It seemed like a long time until 6:30.

  The wind had stiffened. This afternoon the whole island seemed alive with motion, and even the tall fir trees allowed their tips to bend and sway.

  Sunlight gave the wind-whipped ocean a brilliance that hurt her eyes, and when she tried to get comfortable with her book, the wind rattled its pages and snatched at her long hair. Before long, she found herself staring into space more often than reading.

  Finally she flipped the book shut and scrambled across the rocks to check the tide pools.

  A shout interrupted her search, and she looked up the beach. Mrs. Stewart, the neighbor whose phone they’d used, was waving excitedly.

  Julie trotted across the rocks to meet her.

  “There’s a phone call. Where are your aunt and uncle?” The woman’s tanned face looked worried. .

  “Aunt Myra’s sick. My uncle’s working,” Julie said. “Do you know what it’s about?”

  “Something about Karin. Can you talk to them? Go ahead up to the house—I’m all out of breath. The phone’s right in the kitchen.”

  Julie ran the rest of the way to the Stewart’s house and wasted a couple of minutes looking for the phone. Finally she picked it up and said hello.

  The cool voice on the other end sounded impatient. “Will you please notify Dr. Fletcher that his daughter, Karin, has been injured in an automobile accident? He can locate her at Chemainus General Hospital.”

  “But what happened? Is she going to be all right?”

  “She is in fair condition,” the voice said. “Details of the accident are not yet available.”

  A Broken Code

  Julie called a hurried “Thank you!” to Mrs. Stewart and sprinted across the rocks. She burst through the kitchen door, and the silent house reminded her to respect Aunt Myra’s headache.

  She tiptoed up the stairs, hesitated in front of her uncle’s door, and knocked.

  She waited. Had he heard?

  The door jerked open, and she blurted out the news about Karin.

  He frowned. “Did you ask who was calling?”

  “No,” she said, wishing she’d thought of that.

  “What did the voice sound like?”

  “Just . . . like someone who works at a hospital, like a nurse,” she said, trying not to stare at the glowing computer behind him.

  “All right,” he said quickly. “I’ll take my boat to Chemainus and see Karin. I was just finishing up here anyway. Where’s your aunt?”

  “She’s in bed with a headache. She took a pill.”

  “Don’t say anything to her until I get back, eh? She’ll sleep for a few hours anyway. No point in upsetting her until we find out how bad it is.”

  He looked down at Julie’s sandals. “Put on some decent shoes and a jacket. I’d like you to do something for me.” He stepped back inside, shutting the door behind him.

  After Julie had changed, she sat at the top step to wait for her uncle. He came out of his study and handed her the sea-otter bank.

  “I’d like you to take this to Paul Edenshaw and ask him to fix the chipped ear.” His eyes held a silent message: this was important.

  “Put it in a bag if you want, but do it right away,” he said. “You know the trail out behind the house?”

  She nodded. It was the way she’d gone with Karin.

  “Good,” he said. “Stay on the main trail, then when it forks, go to the left. You’ll get there all right.”

  He ran downstairs, and Julie followed.

  She looked regretfully from the sea otter to the kitchen clock. How come he wanted the ear fixed now, all of a sudden? It had been chipped for years. She’d miss meeting Robert as they’d planned.

  Why not take it with her to the cave, and go to Paul Edenshaw’s house later? Her uncle would be gone for a couple of hours anyway.

  She found a paper bag and slid the otter bank into it. Going all that way alone wouldn’t be much fun, but Uncle Nate had looked serious, and he’d said, “Do it right away.�
�

  For some reason, this was important to him, so she’d better go now.

  She picked up an apple to munch and called to Siem, but he didn’t come running as usual, so she set out alone. The wind rushed through the trees over her head and filled the whole forest with murmuring sounds.

  She glanced back over her shoulder, calling again for Siem. He would have been good company for this trip, and protection too. Was someone watching the house, waiting for a chance to break in and steal Uncle Nate’s secrets? Good thing she’d locked the doors.

  The trail wound through the giant fir trees she remembered from her trip with Karin, and she began wondering about her cousin.

  How badly was she hurt? Had a car hit her bike?

  A terrible picture filled her mind: Karin lying pale and unconscious on the pavement, her blond hair stained with blood.

  She pushed away the ghastly image, but the feeling of horror persisted. It seemed to be part of this forest with its ancient trees creaking and groaning in the wind, its silent fungi, and the dark shadows that leaped across the trail in front of her.

  She broke into a run. Escape this dreadful place! She forgot to watch for the knotted roots that humped across the trail until one of them snatched at her foot. She fell hard.

  Gasping, she sat up and rubbed her bruised knees. The otter bank lay nearby, its bag torn. She hardly dared to pick it up, for fear it was broken, but when she checked, it looked fine.

  She sighed in relief and fingered the slit that was the otter’s mouth. Was anything inside? Curious, she shook the bank, but it felt empty. She slid it back into the bag and started off more carefully down the trail.

  At last she was out of the old forest, past the graveyard, and following a rocky trail that twisted past clumps of rustling beach grass. A glance at her watch reminded her that she should be at Robert’s cave by now.

  What would he think when she didn’t show up? Maybe he’d go off and do something with the paper, and she’d never get to see it. It must be important, a link to Uncle Nate’s work.

  She frowned at the package in her arms. Had she lost a chance to help solve the mystery?

  The house came into sight, and she picked her way through the boulders that surrounded it. What would the Old One say when she showed up like this? He didn’t like visitors!

  Maybe she’d just give him the package and explain, then run off before he had a chance to get angry.

  She tiptoed up the steps in front of the weather-beaten house, and knocked. When the old Indian opened the door, she forgot what she’d planned to say, and silently held out the package.

  He took it, and his dark eyes looked welcoming.

  Reassured, she said, “Uncle Nate sent this—so you could fix the chipped ear.”

  “Come in, Julie,” he said quietly.

  He led her through a simple kitchen into the next room. His study?

  Bookshelves, filled and overflowing, lined the walls. Other shelves held a collection of black stone carvings like her uncle’s. Beside the window stood a desk crowded with papers, books, and a computer.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said. He took the otter bank into an adjoining room, and she stepped over to read the book titles nearest her.

  Many of them were what Dad called the classics, books by Shakespeare, Milton, and Dickens. A row of books on the top shelf caught her eye, all written by Paul Edenshaw.

  She was still looking at them when he came back into the room. “You wrote those books up there, didn’t you?” she said.

  He chuckled. “You’ve discovered my little secret?”

  “Then you’re not a shaman—you’re a writer?”

  “Couldn’t I be both?” he asked in his deep voice.

  Julie looked at him doubtfully, and he answered with a twinkle in his eyes. “When I returned to the island and started living out here by myself, people got strange ideas about me, and legends grew. So I let them think what they wanted to, and actually, I prefer it this way. They leave me alone, and I get my work done.”

  He smiled at her. “I’m glad for a chance to see you again. Your father was a good friend of mine. Did he tell you?”

  Before she could answer, he held up a hand. “Someone’s knocking at my door. Let’s go see.”

  Robert stood there, looking surprised. “Julie! I wondered where you were.”

  She explained rapidly. “My uncle sent me here on an errand, just when I was supposed to meet you. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

  Turning to Paul Edenshaw, Robert held out the wolf totem pole. “I was hoping you could help us with a problem.”

  While the old man examined the crack in the pole, Robert told him how he’d found it in his cave.

  Through the crack, Julie could see the hollowed-out interior and the folded paper.

  At last Paul Edenshaw spoke. “I carved this for your uncle,” he said to her. “The paper inside belongs to him.”

  Julie leaned closer as he slipped it out and unfolded it. As Robert said, it was just a bunch of Indian crests, printed from a computer.

  “What do they mean?” she asked.

  Paul Edenshaw looked at Robert, but he shook his head. “The only one I know is Wolf.”

  “Wait,” Julie said. “I found a book about them—those other two look like Dogfish and Hawk.”

  Paul Edenshaw nodded, and he might have been smiling.

  “It’s odd, how they’re repeated,” Robert said. “We’ve got Dogfish—Hawk—Wolf. Then Hawk—Dogfish—Wolf. And Wolf—Dogfish.”

  Julie picked up the totem pole and ran a finger over its glossy surface. “The pole has the same figures, but not in the same order. Here’s Wolf at the top and then Dogfish.”

  She looked at Paul Edenshaw. “Why did you cut the notches on Wolf when you carved it?”

  “That’s what your uncle asked for,” he said. “Two on each side of Wolf, and one on each side of Hawk. He’s good at making up codes.”

  She waited, hoping he would say something more, but he didn’t. He just stood there looking mysterious.

  Robert gazed at the pole with half-closed eyes. “Maybe the notches stand for numbers.”

  “Yes!” Julie said. “Maybe Wolf is four and Hawk is two. Shark could be zero, because its eyes and mouth have that oval shape. The paper might be a series of numbers.”

  “Okay,” Robert said. He took an envelope out of his pocket and wrote the numbers on it. “That’s two million, four hundred twenty thousand, four hundred forty. If you put in the commas.”

  “What?” She studied the numbers he’d scribbled: 02,420,440.

  “That zero at the beginning doesn’t look right,” Robert said.

  She thought about the explanations she’d read. “You know what? I learned something about Dogfish. It’s a crest that medicine men use, and sometimes it’s used as a warning, like ‘keep out!’ ”

  “So the zeros are like parentheses—we should take them off the beginning and end?” Robert asked.

  “I think so.”

  “That helps,” he said. “Get rid of the commas, and we have 242044”

  “What’s it look like to you?” Julie asked.

  “Hmmm,” he said. “Try 24-20-44, like the combination to a safe? That’s a good reason for anyone to steal it.”

  He frowned. “I wonder if Karin realized what she was taking—if she’s the one.”

  Into Julie’s mind flashed the picture of Karin lying injured on the road. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! Something awful happened to Karin. Someone phoned from Chemainus and said she was in an accident, so Uncle Nate left to go and see her.”

  “Chemainus?” Robert’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure they said Chemainus?”

  “Yes, of course,” Julie said. “That’s where they went bike riding. Well, anyway, Uncle Nate—”

  “But they didn’t,” Robert said. “I was down by the ferry dock this morning and heard the big discussion. One of the kids found out that the Malahat Drive to Victoria was being repaired
, and they decided it would be more fun to go to Saltspring Island. Didn’t she tell anybody?”

  Julie shrugged. “You know Karin. She might not bother.” Worry shivered through her. “What do you think?”

  “That phone call sounds like a fake,” he said. “Someone wanted your uncle out of the way.”

  She stared at him. “But the house is empty, except for Aunt Myra, and she’s in bed. If someone has the combination to the safe . . .”

  She looked at Paul Edenshaw. “Or maybe they wouldn’t be able to figure it out?”

  He shrugged. “I watched the two of you do it in a couple of minutes,” he said. “Anyone with some knowledge of Indian art would be able to guess. And the rest of it—” He spread out his hands. “Just plain deduction.”

  “I’ve got to get back, then,” Julie said. “It’s partly my fault that Uncle Nate went off on that wild goose chase.”

  “You’re not going alone,” Robert said. “I’ll come too.”

  She felt safer already.

  “So will I,” the old man said. “Let’s take the shortcut along the beach.”

  The wind grabbed for her as soon as she stepped out of the cabin, and she hurried behind Robert across the rocky beach. Her face stung with the icy spray from wind-whipped waves, and the rocks felt slippery underfoot.

  Beside her, Paul Edenshaw walked swiftly and silently.

  Soon they were passing the graveyard, but she didn’t give it a glance. It was all she could do to keep up with Robert.

  They entered The Spill.

  She jumped from one spray-drenched rock to another, made a bad landing, and cried out as her feet slipped from under her.

  A strong arm caught and steadied her, but as he did so, Paul Edenshaw stumbled and fell heavily into a gap between the boulders.

  “Robert!” Julie called, and sprang down beside the old man, who was clasping his knee in silent agony.

  A minute later, Robert joined them.

  She watched anxiously as Paul Edenshaw leaned on Robert, trying to step up onto a rock.

  The man paused, his jaw clenched in pain. “This knee won’t make it.”

  He sank down onto a rock. “You two go ahead. Let me rest here for a bit.”

  Julie shook her head at Robert. “Can you take him back?”