Chapter 6 The Mystery at the Ski Jump by Carolyn Keene
Locked In
“What’s wrong, Mr. Evans?” asked an excited voice from the doorway.
The speaker was a plump woman of faded beauty who peered curiously into the room. At her question the hotel clerk whirled nervously.
“Why—uh—good morning, Mrs. Plimpton. We’re merely looking for a guest who occupied this room,” he answered.
“Miss Drew, you mean,” said Mrs. Plimpton. “I haven’t seen her since breakfast. We ate together and had a nice chat.”
Hearing the word “chat” Nancy suspected another stock sale. “I came a long way to see this lady,” she said. “I wonder if I might talk to you privately, Mrs. Plimpton?”
“Why, certainly,” she agreed. “My room’s just across the hall. We can talk there.”
While George and Bess waited for her in the hotel lobby, Nancy listened to the woman’s story of becoming acquainted with “Miss Drew.” Mrs. Plimpton proved to be a friendly, unsuspecting person and Nancy had no difficulty in finding out what she wanted to know about the crafty Mrs. Channing. During breakfast Mrs. Plimpton had admired the fur coat which the younger woman wore.
“If you like mink, I can sell you a fur scarf at half price,” Mrs. Channing had suggested. “To be frank, I’m a little hard pressed for money just now.”
A little later, in Mrs. Plimpton’s room, Mrs. Channing had followed her usual tricky methods. She had persuaded the other woman to buy the fur scarf and also to invest five hundred dollars in stock. When Nancy told Mrs. Plimpton that the value of the stock was questionable, tears came to the woman’s eyes.
“If I’ve made a poor bargain and wasted our family savings, my husband will never forgive me,” she confided. “It was just that this woman seemed so kind and sincere.”
“I’m terribly sorry about the whole thing,” said Nancy. “Mrs. Plimpton, in your conversation with her, did ‘Miss Drew’ give you any hint as to where she might be going from here?”
The woman thought a moment, then shook her head. “She talked as if she planned to stay here for some time.”
Nancy came to the conclusion that Mrs. Channing must have caught a glimpse of her as the girls entered the hotel. For the moment, the woman seemed to have outsmarted the detective again. Then suddenly Nancy thought of the Masonville fur store.
“May I see the scarf you bought?” she asked.
“Certainly,” Mrs. Plimpton replied, going to the wardrobe.
The fur piece was indeed beautiful, but there was no label on it. No doubt the one Nancy had found had once been sewed to the lining.
“May I please use your phone?” she requested.
Nancy called the Masonville Fur Company and learned from the proprietor that every fur piece of theirs had MFC stamped on one of the skins. At the time of purchase the date was added. The young detective thanked him and hung up.
Borrowing some scissors, she quickly opened the lining of the scarf. Near the neckline there was a telltale MFC but no date mark! Nancy explained her find to Mrs. Plimpton and what it meant.
“I’ll let that fur company know,” the woman said tearfully. “Oh, dear, what will my husband say?”
Nancy leaned down and patted her hand. “Don’t give up hope, Mrs. Plimpton,” she encouraged. “We’ll try to get your money back for you. I’m sure we’ll catch that thief. By the way, her name is not Drew—it’s Channing. If you should ever see her, be sure to call the police.”
After promising to do all she could for Mrs. Plimpton, Nancy went down to the lobby.
“Well, it’s about time you appeared!” George complained.
“Nancy Drew, don’t you think we ever have to eat?” Bess asked. “I’ve had nothing but a hamburger since breakfast. I’m practically grown together in the middle!”
“Then prepare to gorge yourself, my pet.” Nancy grinned. “I saw a nice little tearoom, called the Golden Swan, only a few blocks from here. We’ll go there at once.”
On the way to the tearoom, Nancy brought her friends up to date on the mystery. “And, girls, hold on to your hats!” she warned. “That fur piece Mrs. Plimpton purchased bears the Masonville Fur Company’s mark.”
George whistled. “Hypers! That’s what I call piling up evidence,” she praised. “If we ever do find Mrs. Channing, she’ll sure have a lot of counts against her.”
Bess asked Nancy if she thought stealing furs and selling them was what the woman had been doing all along.
“I’m not sure where she got her first supply,” said Nancy. “But evidently business has been so good that she ran out of merchandise and had to resort to shoplifting.”
“Mr. Evans reported her to the Winchester police for not paying her room bill,” George remarked. “That was a foolish thing for her to do.”
“Yes, it was. But I don’t believe Mrs. Channing intended to cheat the hotel,” said Nancy. “I think something frightened her away—probably my arrival.”
As they entered the Golden Swan, Bess said, “Let’s stop playing cops and robbers for a bit. I want to concentrate on food!”
The hostess led the girls to a small table beside the window. Here, for the next twenty minutes, they were content to relax and enjoy the delicious food.
“Where do you want to drive next?” Bess asked when they had finished.
“I have another idea,” Nancy replied. “Before we leave here, I thought we should canvass all the exclusive shops in town. Find out if they’ve missed any furs. You girls know—”
Nancy’s voice trailed away. She was staring through the window and down the street. An instant before she had seen a slender, elegantly dressed woman walking briskly along the opposite side of the street.
Her hair was shiny blue-black! Mrs. Channing! Nancy rose hastily from the table. “Wait for me,” she said quickly to Bess and George, and dashed from the tearoom.
Nancy hurried across the street and followed the woman. Mrs. Channing was moving along so rapidly that the girl had no chance to be subtle in her shadowing. To keep her eye on her target she had to weave agilely among other pedestrians.
Mrs. Channing paused to look in a gift-shop window. Nancy nearly caught up to her. But the thief had used the plate glass as a mirror!
A swift turn on her heels, and she was running down the street. A moment later she slipped into a small fur shop.
Nancy looked up and down the street for a policeman. None was in sight.
“I’ll have to handle this alone!” she thought, and increased her speed.
Reaching the fur shop, Nancy gazed cautiously through the plate-glass window. The place was artistically lighted and tastefully furnished. She noted the deep-piled rug and the ivory and gold showcase. Several choice silver fox and mink fur pieces lay in it. But Mrs. Channing was not in sight.
Nancy opened the door and stepped inside. A small, round man moved briskly to meet her, followed by a small and equally round woman.
“Something my wife and I can do for you, miss?” the man asked.
“I came to inquire about a woman I saw enter this place a minute ago,” Nancy replied. “A tall brunette in a mink coat.”
“Brunette? Mink coat?”
The storekeeper raised his eyebrows and shook his head, at the same time glancing quickly at his wife. “Perhaps you are mistaken?”
“But she must have come in here. I saw her myself,” Nancy persisted. “It’s important that I find her.”
“And who are you, please?” the man demanded.
“My name is Nancy Drew and—”
Nancy got no further. With a yelp of rage the little man leaped toward her and pinned the girl’s hands behind her back. At the same time his wife threw a dark cloth over their captive’s head.
Nancy struggled, but the determined couple overpowered her. With a victorious cry they dragged her to a rear room.
“Unlock that closet quick!” the man ordered.
Nancy heard the click of a door latch. Then she was shoved among some fur coats hanging in the closet. The door slammed shut, and a key turned in the lock.
“You can’t come in here and rob us!” the proprietor yelled excitedly. “We know you for a thief!”