“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