Curse of the Arctic Star Read online

  “Okay, but how would you find those people even if we did get away?” George shrugged and glanced around. “Open your eyes. Ketchikan is a mob scene.”

  I saw her point. The Arctic Star wasn’t the only cruise ship docked in Ketchikan at the moment. There were two other massive ships there, and their passengers were everywhere.

  “Anyway,” George went on with a grin, “I hear this lumberjack show is pretty fun. Let’s check it out, and then maybe we can duck out of the fjord thing afterward, okay?”

  I sighed. It would have to do. “Fine,” I said. “Lumberjacks it is.”

  Soon we were all seated in the grandstand of the open-air arena where the lumberjack show would take place. My friends and I were at the end of a row about halfway back, with most of the seats nearby taken up by Arctic Star passengers. Scott was at the end of the aisle a couple of rows ahead of us.

  “Relax, folks,” he called out as he sat down. “The show’s scheduled to start in about fifteen minutes.”

  “I wonder what all the other people from the ship did this morning,” Alan said. “Scott said a bunch went kayaking or fishing. And some others did this tour where you go into the rain forest and do a zip-line thing. Maybe we should have tried that.”

  “Zip lining? No thank you.” George shuddered. “We had, uh, a bad experience with a zip line once. Right, Nancy?”

  I shot her a warning look. She was right—I’d had a pretty bad accident on a zip line in Costa Rica once because someone had sabotaged it to try to stop one of my investigations. Alan already knew I was an amateur detective, of course—pretty much everyone in River Heights did. But I didn’t particularly want to remind him about my little hobby. He came across as pretty goofy, but he wasn’t stupid. What if he figured out what I was really doing on this cruise?

  Luckily, though, Alan didn’t seem to have caught the comment. “It’s weird to think of a rain forest in Alaska, isn’t it?” he mused. “I mean, when you think Alaska, you think snow and glaciers and stuff, not rain forest.”

  “Very educated comment, Mr. Environmental Studies Guy,” George quipped.

  Alan looked annoyed. “Hey, I may be an enviro student, but that doesn’t mean I’m an expert on every environment on the planet, all right?”

  “Look,” Bess said, clearly trying to distract them from sniping at each other. “I think I see some other people from our ship coming in. Including our favorite arachnophile.”

  “Huh?” George glanced toward the entrance, then made a face. “Quick, everybody hide,” she hissed. “It’s Spider Boy!”

  I looked too and saw Tobias entering the grandstand with his parents. For a second my instinct was the same as George’s. But then I realized this might be my only chance today to do any investigating. Okay, so it involved our weakest suspect. Still . . .

  “Hello!” I called to the family, standing up and waving. “There are some seats over here!”

  Tobias’s mother spotted me and waved back. Moments later they were making their way toward us.

  George groaned softly. “Are you nuts?” she whispered. “That kid’s scary enough even without easy access to axes and stuff.”

  But there wasn’t time to say any more before Tobias pushed past us and flopped into an empty seat. “I hope the show starts soon,” he said impatiently. “It’s probably going to be the only interesting thing I get to do on this whole stupid cruise.”

  “Relax, son,” his father said with a sigh. “It’ll start soon.”

  “So what did you kids see in Ketchikan so far today?” his wife asked us.

  The small talk continued from there. It turned out the family had spent the morning wandering around sightseeing on their own instead of joining any of the organized activities. I couldn’t help wondering if that was because Tobias was being punished for the spider stunt. Had he confessed to planting Hazel on the buffet yet?

  I cast around in my mind for a subtle way to ask. But Alan, of all people, beat me to it.

  “Hey, buddy,” he said with a grin, leaning toward Tobias. “Did you bring Hazel along to check out the show too?”

  Tobias gave him a withering look. “What do you think, genius?” he snapped.

  “Tobias! Manners!” his mother scolded. Then she smiled at Alan. “Sorry. He’s a little touchy about Hazel right now.”

  “Yes, and he’s not making it easy on himself.” Tobias’s father looked at his son sternly, though Tobias ignored him. “The ship is being nice about what happened, and Miss Coral has been especially gracious. But Tobias still won’t admit to what he did.”

  His wife sighed. “It’s just not like him,” she murmured. “Tobias can be, er, difficult. But he’s not normally a liar. I certainly hope this isn’t a new phase . . . .”

  “At least Hazel has been confined to her cage since yesterday,” Tobias’s father said, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sure everyone’s glad about that—well, except maybe for Analyn.”

  “Analyn?” I echoed.

  “She’s the maid for our cabin,” Tobias’s mother explained with a rueful smile. “Lovely young girl from the Philippines. Poor thing—she probably wasn’t expecting to see a tarantula sitting on the coffee table when she brought the clean towels in last night. Even one in a cage.”

  My friends chuckled, but I frowned slightly. “Wait,” I said. “I thought the maid for your cabin was named Iris.”

  “They probably have more than one,” Bess said. “Like us, remember? Our suite has Max plus the two maids.”

  “That’s right, there are two cabin stewards for ours as well,” Tobias’s father said. “Analyn and a young man named John.”

  “Oh.” Something about this was bothering me, though I wasn’t sure what. “So the maid we saw, Iris—”

  At that moment, Tobias leaped to his feet. “Hey! Look, there’s seats right down in front!” he blurted out loudly, interrupting me. He stomped on my toes as he raced for the aisle. “Come on, let’s go before someone takes them!”

  “Sorry, sorry,” his father said breathlessly as he and his wife followed.

  “It’s okay,” Bess said. Then she turned and smiled sweetly at Alan. “We still have a few minutes before the show starts. Think I have time to go find a soda before that? I’m parched.”

  Alan jumped to his feet. “Stay here—I’ll find you one.”

  George watched him hurry out, then turned to Bess. “How do you do that?”

  Bess ignored her. “So what do you think?” she asked me. “Are you ready to cross our favorite spider wrangler off the suspect list?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said slowly. “On the one hand, it’s weird that he won’t confess. It’s not like he’s shy about causing trouble most of the time.”

  “Good point,” George put in. “If anything, you’d think he’d be bragging about it.”

  “On the other hand,” I went on, “who else even knew that spider was aboard, let alone had access to her?”

  “Another good point.” Bess looked thoughtful. “What about the maid, Analyn? Maybe it was her, or the other cabin attendant. Either of them might have spotted Hazel while they were in there cleaning.”

  “Or what about the kid’s parents?” George peered down toward where the family was now seated. “I mean, they seem like nice people, but so have a lot of the baddies you’ve busted, Nancy.”

  “I guess you’re right. They certainly had access to the spider, since it was in their cabin.” I chewed my lower lip. “But why? What’s their motive?”

  Just then Alan returned. “Sorry,” he told Bess breathlessly. “They told me there’s no time—show’s about to start. Maybe we can get you a drink afterward?”

  “Sure, no problem.” Bess smiled and squeezed his hand as he took his seat. “Thanks for trying.”

  As we waited, I thought about what George had said. Could Tobias’s parents be in cahoots with their bratty son? Having a couple of adults involved made him a much more believable suspect. But why would they try to sa
botage a ship? What could they possibly be trying to accomplish?

  I was still pondering it when the show started. It was entertaining, but I couldn’t seem to focus on it. About five or ten minutes in, I noticed that one other person didn’t seem very involved in the show either. I saw Scott check his watch, then stand up and head toward the exit.

  No big surprise there, I thought. He’s probably seen this show a million times.

  But his exit gave me an idea. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered to George, who was sitting beside me. “Bathroom break.”

  She just nodded, not taking her eyes off the action.

  I made my way to the outside of the arena and glanced around, wondering where to start. The streets of Ketchikan were as crowded as ever, which wasn’t going to make it easy to track down any of my suspects. If there was an Internet café in town, maybe I could check to see if Wendy was hanging out there . . . .

  At that moment a knot of people moved aside, and I noticed Scott standing nearby. He was talking to a man I’d never seen before—his face wasn’t one anyone could forget, given the large, jagged, ugly scar bisecting it. Scar Guy was maybe a few years older than Scott, dressed in ripped jeans and a grimy plaid flannel jacket. The two of them were leaning close together and appeared to be deep in conversation.

  Then Scott quickly looked around, though he didn’t notice me watching. He stuck one hand into the pocket of his windbreaker, pulled out something I couldn’t see, and shoved it at Scar Guy. Scar Guy tucked whatever it was into his jacket, then took off without another word in the direction of the docks. Scott put both hands in his jeans pockets and started walking fast in the opposite direction.

  What was that all about? I wondered. Something about what I’d just witnessed had set all my sleuthing instincts on high alert, though I wasn’t quite sure why.

  I took a few steps after Scott, keeping him in sight, not certain what to do. Sure, Scar Guy looked kind of seedy. But so what? Scott could easily have friends or acquaintances in various ports, and I knew better than to judge someone on appearances. There could be a million perfectly innocent explanations for what I’d just seen. And Scott wasn’t even on my radar as a suspect. Why waste time worrying about what he was doing?

  But sometimes a girl just has to go with a hunch. Besides, it wasn’t as if I had a better plan in mind. Putting on a burst of speed, I followed Scott as he rounded the corner and headed deeper into town.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Catch as Ketchikan

  THIS IS A WASTE OF TIME, I THOUGHT AS I ducked into a doorway.

  I’d already followed Scott for several blocks. Every so often he paused and glanced around, and I’d been careful to stay out of sight. It wasn’t hard, since we were still in the touristy part of town and there were plenty of people around. Maybe if I was lucky I’d come across Wendy or one of my other suspects, and that would give me an excuse to give up this crazy idea of tailing Scott.

  The crowd thinned out a little as we turned to head off the street and up a short walkway toward a low-slung wooden building. I hung back until Scott disappeared inside, then hurried forward. A sign by the door identified the place as the Totem Heritage Center.

  “Cool,” I murmured as I saw several intricately carved faces grinning or scowling down at me from a tall totem pole near the building.

  But I wasn’t here to sightsee. Pushing in through the door, I glanced around.

  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. The place was small, making the collection of towering totem poles seem even taller as they loomed up in the center of the room.

  There were a couple of older tourists wandering around, but I didn’t see Scott anywhere. I wandered farther in, staring up at the poles. My footsteps echoed, seeming to bounce off the impassive totems. The place was cool, but a little creepy, too.

  This is silly, I told myself. I’m sure Scott’s just here scoping out this place to include on future tours, or some other ship business like that. I should go, maybe try to track down Wendy or something.

  But I couldn’t help remembering how Scott had acted as he walked here—stopping every few minutes to look back, as if he didn’t want anyone to see where he was headed. If he was just going about his normal business, why would he act like that?

  Besides, I was already here. I might as well follow through.

  By now the tourists had disappeared into the adjoining gift shop. I glanced in there, but there was no sign of Scott, so I kept going, circling around the totems huddled at the center of the room.

  Where’d he go? I wondered.

  When I reached the back wall, I heard the sound of muffled voices. Spotting a door, I pushed it open, revealing the bright glare of daylight—and Scott’s surprised face.

  “You!” he blurted out harshly, freezing in place. “What are you doing here?”

  My eyes darted from his face to his hand. It clutched a large wad of cash, which Scott appeared to be in the process of handing to another man. The second man was big and burly, with a wool cap pulled low over his broad, ruddy face.

  “Gimme ’at,” the man rumbled, grabbing the cash and then taking off, moving surprisingly quickly for someone his size.

  “I—I—,” I stammered, unnerved by the furious scowl on Scott’s face. I looked around quickly, realizing we were alone in a small alleyway behind the building.

  But when I looked back at him, his angry expression had melted away, replaced by a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Nancy,” he said. “You startled me!”

  “Sorry,” I said, glancing in the direction where the other man had disappeared around the corner of the building.

  Scott followed my gaze. “I guess you’re wondering what that was all about,” he said. “That guy’s a poker buddy of mine—lives here in Ketchikan. I owed him some cash from the last time I was in town, and he called in the debt.”

  “Oh. Um, okay.”

  “I hope you won’t say anything to the captain about this.” Scott bit his lip. “Ship employees aren’t supposed to get involved with gambling while we’re on duty, and I could lose my job if anyone finds out.”

  “Sure, don’t worry. I won’t breathe a word,” I said, pretending to draw a zipper closed across my lips. But once I got back onboard, of course I was going to say something.

  “Good.” He was all smiles again. “Now, aren’t you supposed to be at the lumberjack show? How’d you end up here, anyway?”

  I babbled some excuse about needing air and going for a walk, which seemed to satisfy him. Then we headed out through the museum and parted ways outside.

  As I hurried toward the lumberjack arena, I thought about what I’d just seen and heard. Scott’s story made sense—he’d been sneaking around because he didn’t want any of his coworkers to see him and possibly report him. And it wasn’t as if he made a likely suspect for any of the trouble that had happened so far. I made a mental note to ask Becca what she knew about him, and maybe have George check him out online just in case. Otherwise, it seemed safe to forget the whole encounter. Well, I hoped it did anyway.

  I arrived back at the arena just as the audience came pouring out onto the street. Almost everyone I saw was laughing and chattering with excitement, and I was kind of sorry I’d missed most of the show.

  Then Alan spotted me and hurried over, with Bess and George trailing along behind him. “Where’d you disappear to?” he demanded. “That must’ve been one heck of a line at the ladies’ room!”

  I thought fast. “I always hate when people crawl back and forth to their seats during a show,” I told him with a shrug and a smile. “So I decided to just hang out at the back and watch from there so I didn’t disturb anyone.”

  “That makes sense,” Bess said quickly, though Alan looked a bit dubious.

  I couldn’t really blame him. It wasn’t really that kind of show.

  For a moment I wondered if all this subterfuge was really worth it. Maybe I should just give in and tell Alan the truth after all. It would
certainly be a lot easier than all this sneaking around, plus it would mean an extra set of eyes watching for clues.

  “Anyone else hungry?” Bess asked cheerfully before I could decide.

  “Starved.” George checked her watch. “I vote we bag out of that fjord thing we have scheduled and find some food instead.”

  I glanced at Alan, expecting him to argue. But he nodded.

  “I could go for that,” he said. “Besides, I kind of want to get a better look at Creek Street. What do you say?”

  Creek Street was one of the town attractions that we’d passed on our tour earlier. It wasn’t exactly a street at all, at least not in the usual sense. Its colorful wooden buildings—shops, restaurants, historic houses, art galleries, and other attractions—lined a boardwalk-like pedestrian walkway set on tall pilings over Ketchikan Creek. We’d only caught a glimpse of it from the horse-drawn carriage, but our tour guide had recommended checking it out on foot later if we had time.

  “Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  Creek Street was even more crowded than the rest of town. Tons of people were crammed onto the antique wooden boardwalk, which I guessed had to hang a good fifteen or twenty feet above the water at this point.

  Bess peered over the drop. “I hope these walkways are stronger than they look,” she joked.

  “Don’t worry.” Alan took her hand. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Why, thank you, kind sir.”

  George groaned. “Is anyone else suddenly losing their appetite?”

  “Funny.” Bess stuck her tongue out at her cousin. Then she glanced around, her eyes lighting up when she spotted an Alaskan-themed gift shop just ahead. “Hey, as long as we’re here, I should do some souvenir shopping. The people back home will be expecting lots of trinkets. Let’s start in there!”

  She made a beeline for the store’s entrance without waiting for an answer. George was right behind her, but Alan paused to glance back at me.

  “Coming, Nancy?” he asked.