Authors: Carolyn Keene

The Wrong Track (15 page)

BOOK: The Wrong Track

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Karl wasn't interested in conversation. “Stop
stalling,” he ordered. His empty hand pointed toward the door. “Out! It's time for you to take a little fall.”

Nancy stepped toward the door. Karl was waiting for her to go out ahead of him. Just as she was passing him Nancy seized her only opportunity. She shot her leg out in the quick reflexive kick she'd been taught in her martial arts classes.

It worked! The gun went spinning out of Karl's hand and landed on the floor. Nancy lunged, tackling Karl with all her might. Though he was a big man, he wasn't prepared for the sudden attack. Surprise and skill were on Nancy's side, and he fell easily to the ground.

The gun lay on the floor two feet from Karl's outstretched hand. Nancy moved quickly, reaching for it. But her luck ran out. The older man was too swift. He grabbed Nancy's ankle and yanked her off balance.

“I'm going to kill you!” he cried as he wrestled with Nancy, trying to pin her to the floor. Although Karl far outweighed Nancy, she had the advantage of agility and cunning. She struggled against him, trying to keep him away from the gun. She twistedâhardâout of his grasp and rolled away from him. At that very moment the door swung open, and George and Ben burst into the room.

“Need a little help?” Ben asked.

For an instant Karl was so surprised that he didn't move. It was the break Nancy needed. She launched herself at Karl, forcing him back down on the floor.

George moved quickly to the side of the room. “I've got the gun,” she announced, and she pointed it at Karl.

“Thanks, guys,” Nancy said as she jumped to her feet. “Your timing was perfect.”

â¢Â â¢Â â¢

“Are you sure they're all coming?” Sheila's voice quavered with emotion, and she drummed her fingers on the arm of the wingback chair. Though she was once again at home in her condo, it was obvious that she was still reliving the events of the previous evening.

“They'll be here,” Nancy assured her.

Nancy had driven Sheila to the police station the night before and stayed with her while Karl was booked on charges of defrauding the insurance company, theft, and attempted murder.

“I still can't believe Karl did all that,” Sheila said. “Of course, he never really confided in me about his business. Whenever I asked he told me it was complicated, and I wouldn't understand.”

“But you did pawn your diamonds, Sheila. You must have known Tall Pines needed money.”

“Karl told me we had minor cash-flow problems,” Sheila explained. “I thought the quick money I'd get from selling my jewelry would help. But I had no idea he was in so deep or that he'd consider stealing.” She hid her face in her hands. “Oh, Karl,” Sheila said. When she looked up at Nancy there were tears in her crystal blue eyes. “It's a terrible thing when your husband's ambition turns him into a criminal.”

Nancy felt bad for the woman. She obviously
had no idea of the awful things Karl was capable of. “I'm just glad George and Bess got back in time to save me,” she said.

“You were very lucky,” Sheila agreed. “How can I ever apologize to you for what has happened here?”

A brisk knock on the door prevented Nancy from answering. Sheila hesitated, then rose to her feet and opened it. “Come in,” she said.

George and Bess were followed by Rebecca, Ben, and Jody. When everyone was seated Sheila leaned forward in her chair. Her blue eyes were serious, and her lips trembled as she began to speak.

“I asked you all to come here,” she said, “because I wanted to apologize for everything that's happened. Even though I didn't take part in the things that Karl did, I do feel responsible. You see, Tall Pines was my dream. If it hadn't been for me, Karl would never have built the resort.”

“It was a wonderful dream,” Bess said. “This is the best resort I've ever seen.”

Sheila managed a small smile. Then she turned to Rebecca. “I'm so sorry for what we put you through. I hope you'll take your job back.”

Rebecca's grin was the only answer anyone needed. “I'll be back at work first thing tomorrow,” she announced.

George shot Rebecca a conspiratorial look. “See,” she said. “I told you Nancy would help.”

There was one more question Nancy wanted answered. “Were you by any chance responsible
for a page being missing from Jody's personnel file?” she asked Ben.

He flushed. “I was afraid you'd find out about Jody's conviction and put it in your article, so I destroyed that page.”

The last pieces fit into the puzzle.

“You've been a great manager,” Sheila told Jody. “The gift shop is booming, and so is the ski shop. I think you have the qualities I need in a general manager. Do you think you could handle the job?”

“You bet I could!” Jody exclaimed, her eyes widening.

“Then it's settled.” Looking at Ben, Sheila added, “I'm going to hire a painter.”

“A painter? Why do you need a painter?” he asked.

This time Sheila chuckled. “To letter the new sign. You know, the one that will say the Ben Wrobley Ski School.”

Before Ben could react George cried, “That's great! It sounds so much better than the Inge Gustafson School.”

“I'm glad you said that,” Ben said with a laugh. “It would sound conceited coming from me.”

“Of course, there's a pay raise that goes along with the new sign,” Sheila pointed out. “You may have to wait a bit until I sell all our other assets, but even with the expense of Karl's defense I think I'll be able to manage raises.”

A broad grin creased Ben's face. “That sounds even better than the sign.” He leaned forward and smiled at Nancy. “And to make up for what
you've been through, Nancy, I'll be glad to give you a season's free skiing lessons.”

Nancy glanced at Sheila, Rebecca, George, and Bess before she answered Ben. “No, thanks,” she said with a grin. “I think I'll try a less dangerous sportâsomething like hang gliding.”

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.