095 An Instinct for Trouble (6 page)

“Wonderful,” Edith said brightly. “Why don’t we all eat together?”

“Sure,” Nancy replied. Here was a perfect opportunity to find out more about the Turkowers.

The hostess led them to a round oak table near the window and handed them menus.

“The cutthroat trout caught in the Yellow-

stone Lake are supposed to be the best in the world,” Gerald told them, placing his cameras on the windowsill.

“Really?” Bess closed her menu. “I’ll try it.”

“So will I,” Nancy said.

“I’ll just have the vegetarian platter,” Edith said. “It’s a little chilly in here, don’t you think?” she added, slipping into a beige sweat-

er with a fur collar.

The waitress came and took their orders. As she left. Nancy asked casually, “How’s the hunt for whistling marmots going?”

Edith made a face. “Not very well. We haven’t even seen one yet.”

“What about you, any luck?” Gerald asked.

“Why, yes,” Nancy replied. “There’s a re-

search group here studying the marmots. I visited their camp yesterday and saw a couple of them at one of the feeding stations. They’re every bit as cute as I expected, too.”

Nancy paused as the waitress placed bowls of green salad in front of everyone.

Nancy picked up her fork and took a bite of salad. Then, leaning forward, she lowered her voice. “A guy from the group told me that some of the marmots are missing.”

She scrutinized the Turkowers and thought she saw an uneasy expression in Gerald’s eyes.

“Do you think someone is stealing them?”

he asked.

Nancy shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Gerald put down his fork. “I suppose it’s possible that someone on the Emerson team might be stealing marmots,” he mused. “Col-

lege students are always short of cash.”

Nancy’s breath caught in her throat. She had never mentioned Emerson College!

Had Gerald noticed her reaction? With a wary expression, he added, “I think I saw an article about that research project. Maybe we should pay them a visit. Edith won’t be happy until she’s had a chance to watch the little critters in action.” He beamed fondly at his wife and winked.

Edith smiled back at him. “In some ways,”

she began, “a marmot would be better off with us than in the wild. We’d give it such a good home,” she cooed. “Gerald and I are staunch animal rights supporters. Why, I’ve even be-

come a vegetarian.”

Nancy noticed the startled expression on Bess’s face, but before she could figure out what caused it, their broiled trout had arrived.

After lunch the Turkowers excused them-

selves, saying they planned to drive to Yellow-

stone Lake.

“That couple is definitely phony,” Bess said in the main lobby.

“What makes you say that?” Nancy asked.

Bess rolled her eyes. “If Edith is so into animal rights,” she demanded, “why was she wearing a sweater with a mink collar?”

“Maybe it was fake fur,” Nancy suggested.

“No way!” Bess scoffed. “I can tell the dif-

ference, believe me.”

“Come on, Bess. I just saw the Turkowers head out the front door. I want to check out their room.”

Nancy led the way to the house phones and asked the switchboard for the Turkowers. After half a dozen rings, the operator said, “Sorry, Room three twenty-six doesn’t answer.”

Nancy and Bess climbed the stairs to the third floor. At the Turkowers’ door. Nancy rapped lightly, then tried the knob. It was locked. After a quick glance up and down the hall, she pulled a small case of lockpicks from her shoulder bag and went to work. A few moments later the door sprang open.

“Bess, you stand guard while I search the room,” Nancy said. Bess nodded and Nancy slipped inside.

Like the room Nancy and Bess were sharing, this one had rough-hewn plank walls, brass beds, and an old-fashioned washstand com-

plete with porcelain bowl and pitcher. The window looked out onto a steaming geyser field.

Nancy opened the oak wardrobe in the comer. The right side held women’s clothes.

To her amazement, there were only three out-

fits hanging there. Nancy had expected Edith to be like Bess and bring virtually everything she owned.

She moved to the dresser and started pulling drawers open. Quickly, she riffled through a pile of men’s shirts and sweaters. She came up empty-handed.

As she pushed the drawer closed, she noticed that it seemed to be sticking. She pulled it all the way out and held it up so she could see the underside. There was a manila envelope taped to the bottom of the drawer.

Carefully removing it, she opened the enve-

lope and pulled out a sheet of fax paper. There were no headings, simply a list of animals, each followed by a dollar amount and one or two locations. She scanned the list, her eyes stopping at an entry that said: “Whistling Marmot-$400-$500-Yellowstone Park.”

Someone had inked a little star next to it.

Shocked, Nancy realized that she was look-

ing at a list of how much wild animals would bring on the black market.

Taking care not to crease the fragile sheet, Nancy put it back in the envelope and retaped it to the underside of the drawer. Then she took one last peek at the room to make sure she hadn’t left anything out of place and slipped out the door.

On the way downstairs, she told Bess what she had found.

“Well, that settles it,” Bess declared. “I knew right from the start that Edith and Gerald weren’t ordinary tourists. They’re in the marmot black market up to their necks.”

Nancy frowned. “I still think someone from the Emerson group has to be involved, too. All the thefts, not to mention Brad’s and Ned’s injuries, point to an inside job.”

“What’s next. Nan?” Bess asked.

“Let’s head out and find Richard and Piker.

I want to ask them a few questions about what they were discussing with the Turkowers,” she said.

Bess rolled down her car window, but the breeze was too chilly, so she put it up again.

The road led along the bank of the Firehole River, kept warm by the hot springs in its bed.

A layer of white mist hid the surface of the water. Nancy slowed down as they passed the Fountain Paint Pots, a series of pools turned vivid colors by the algae that lived in them. All at once she hit the brakes.

“What is it?” Bess asked, alarmed. “Is some-

thing wrong?”

“Look-in the middle of those aspens,”

Nancy replied, pointing.

“What is it?” Bess repeated. “A bear?”

“No, it’s a van,” Nancy said. “And if I’m not mistaken, it’s the same one that tried to run me off the road this morning.”

“Are you sure?” Bess gasped.

Nancy nodded and pulled onto the shoulder of the road. Getting out, she walked down a dirt trail toward the half-concealed van. As she approached, she saw the words Minden Linen painted on the side.

“This is it,” she said over her shoulder. “You can see the dent where it grazed off the tree.

And look.” She pointed to a streak of white paint on the bumper. “That’s from our car.”

Bess glanced around nervously. “Do you think the people who did it are still around?”

“I doubt it,” Nancy said. She pulled open the driver’s side door and peered inside. The keys were in the ignition. “I’m going to search the cab. Keep an eye out for me, okay?”

“Just make it quick,” Bess urged.

Hastily Nancy climbed into the cab and opened the glove compartment. She found nothing except the registration and insurance card, both issued to the linen supply company.

Under the seat, she found a creased map of the park. She was climbing out when she suddenly heard a thumping sound.

Beth paled. “Nancy, let’s get out of here.”

The sound came again, louder this time.

“There’s someone in the back of the van!”

Nancy exclaimed. She ran around to the rear doors and yanked the handle down. It was locked. “Bess, grab the keys. They’re in the ignition.”

Bess grabbed the large key ring, then dashed back to Nancy with it. The third key worked, and she yanked the door open.

The van was piled with neatly folded linen, and lying on a pile of towels in the center was a middle-aged man with round, wild eyes. His hands and feet were tied, and in his mouth was a gag.

Chapter Eight

Nancy and Bess scrambled into the van and quickly released the man.

“Mr. Heckleby?” Nancy inquired as the man rubbed his chafed wrists. He nodded.

“Are you all right?” Bess asked.

“I’ve been better,” he replied, massaging his ankles. “But I sure am glad you came along.

I’ve been tied up for hours.”

“What happened?” Nancy asked.

Heckleby pushed back his unruly gray hair.

“Beats me,” he said. “I was driving along near Madison Junction when I saw a car blocking the road. I stopped and got out to see if I could help, and someone grabbed me from behind. I felt something jab my arm. When I woke up I was hogtied and gagged on the floor of the van.”

“You must have been drugged!” Nancy ex-

claimed. “Whoever it was hijacked your truck and tried to run me off the road with it.”

“Who would do a thing like that? And why?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Nancy replied, remember-

ing the missing syringes and tranquilizer vials at the campsite.

The girls helped Heckleby out of the van.

“I’d better call the office and have them get a ranger over here.” He reached into the cab for his radio.

Less than ten minutes later a park service cruiser pulled up behind Nancy’s car and two officers got out. They introduced themselves as Rangers Dillon and Cramer and took state-

ments from both Nancy and Heckleby.

Before leaving, the officers offered to drive Heckleby to the hospital in Gardiner, but he said he was too far behind on his rounds already. After thanking Nancy and Bess for rescuing him, he got into the van and drove off.

Nancy was silent as she started the car and swung onto the road.

“What are you thinking, Nan?” Bess asked.

Nancy told her about the syringes.

“You think someone from Ned’s group drugged Mr. Heckleby and tried to kill you?”

“I can’t really narrow it down that far,”

Nancy replied slowly. “Anyone could have taken the spare key to the command post.”

Nancy drove past Madison Junction toward the Emerson campsite. “We need to find out where everyone was this morning around ten.

That’s when I was forced off the road.”

“I’ll do my best,” Bess promised.

As Nancy got out of the car, she heard hammering. Squinting against the afternoon sun, she spotted Richard and Piker about fifty yards away. “Come on,” she said to Bess in a low voice. They approached the workers, who were lining up long, smooth planks of wood and nailing them to stout crosspieces.

“Hi!” Bess called gaily. “Building a new walkway?”

The two men raised their heads. Piker’s face was expressionless, but Richard gave Bess a slight grin. “Yeah,” he answered.

“Why here?” Bess asked. “There aren’t any geysers around, are there?”

“Princess Geyser is about a half mile north,” Richard explained.

“This looks like a big job,” Nancy com-

mented. “How long have you been at it?”

“Since first thing this morning,” he said.

“Why?”

Nancy acted puzzled. “No reason, except that I thought I saw you in Gardiner this morning.”

Richard chuckled. “Must have been my double, because I’ve been here all day.”

Nancy and Bess headed through the woods to the campsite. Jack was beside the command post, checking out the assignment sheet. When he saw them, he smiled and yelled, “Well, hello there.”

His gaze moved warmly from Nancy to Bess and back again. Bess moved close to him and said, “Hello yourself. It seems like ages since I saw you. Have you been having an exciting day?”

Nancy smothered a laugh. Bess might be falling in love, but as promised, she was trying to help out with the case.

“Oh, very exciting,” Jack replied, his smile broadening. “This morning Ned and I started packing up station four. Then came the high point-I repaired a park service slide projec-

tor. I tell you, the life of a park ranger is full of thrills!”

Bess giggled.

“Is Ned still around?” Nancy asked.

“He was up at feeding station one a while back,” Jack told her.

“I think I’ll hike up there,” Nancy told Bess.

“Go ahead,” she replied. “I’ll stay here.”

Nancy was about halfway up the hill when she heard a shrill whistling sound. Startled, she stopped and looked around. It came again from a clump of bushes about sixty feet to the left of the path. She made her way there and cautiously parted the scraggly branches, then let out a cry.

Under the bushes was a wire trap just like the one Ned had showed her the day before.

Inside was a little marmot. One of its hind legs was caught in the door and was badly swollen.

Nancy’s first impulse was to run for help, but she couldn’t bear to leave the suffering creature. She knew that handling an injured animal could be dangerous, so she took the scarf from around her neck and wrapped it around her hand. Even if the marmot tried to bite her, the scarf would keep its teeth from breaking her skin. She knelt down and opened the door, gingerly freeing the marmot’s leg.

“There, there,” she crooned as she slowly withdrew her hand. “You’ll be all right now.”

Just then she heard Bess’s voice shouting.

“Nancy, where are you?”

“Over here,” Nancy yelled. She shut the cage door and stood up as Bess and Jack came hurrying up the path.

Bess was huffing when she reached Nancy’s side. “What happened? We heard a terrible noise.”

Jack came to a stop behind Bess. “I told her it was a marmot,” he said.

“You’re right, it is a marmot. See? Its leg was caught in the trap.”

“Oh, no!” Bess gasped. “Is it badly hurt?”

Jack bent down and carefully examined the animal, then stood up, his face angry. “His leg’s not broken, but he’s definitely hurt,” he told them. “Let’s take him back to camp. We’ll clean the cut and bandage it.”