Free Murder On Ice by Carolyn Keene

phone, but there was no answer. She checked the bar, the coffee shop, and the main dining room, all without success. Then she headed for the skating rink.
    The rink, like the rest of the hotel, was plush. The roof was open to the icy sky, but walls of tinted glass held off the wind. There were lots ofspectators, and Nancy guessed that many of the Overlook guests passed by just to watch.
    She leaned against the rail and studied the skaters for a moment. With a start, she realized that one of them was Michael. An idea popped into her mind, and without a second thought, she rented a pair of skates herself.
    Nancy laced them up, stepped onto the ice, and began a few warm-up tricks. She liked the music that was playing. It had a beautiful Latin beat to it. Gradually, Nancy added a few spins and easy jumps to her graceful movements.
    Pretty soon a small group was watching Nancy and applauding. But all she saw was another skater at the far end of the rink—Michael Price.
    As if feeling Nancy’s eyes on him, Michael looked up. Then he bowed, his eyes glinting with mischief, and skated smoothly over to her.
    â€œShall we dance?” he inquired.
    â€œSure. How do you feel about talking after we skate?”
    â€œWhat do you want to talk about?”
    â€œLuke Ericsen.”
    â€œOkay,” Michael said. “But I’ve already told you what I know about him.”
    Nancy had to admit that skating with Michael was great fun. He had a natural sense of grace and ease, and he knew a lot of tricks. But she was much more interested in getting some answers.
    After a few minutes, she took Michael’s hand and skated over to the railing. “So let’s talk,” she said.
    â€œWhat do you want to know?” Michael asked.
    â€œWell, for starters, why have you and Luke been pretending you don’t know each other?”
    Michael grimaced. “Quite frankly, after what happened with my friend, Luke and I can’t stand the sight of each other. Neither one of us ever wants to see the other again, and I guess we both feel the less said, the better.”
    Nancy nodded. “Okay, I’ll buy that. But there’s something else. We’ve had a prowler around our lodge, a prowler who leaves some very frightening messages in the snow. . . . You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
    Michael coughed. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nancy.”
    There was a moment of awkward silence. Nancy could tell by the look in his eyes that Michael was lying. She understood why. Creeping around someone’s yard in the middle of the night wasn’t the kind of thing you’d want to own up to. What puzzled Nancy was why, if neither Luke nor Michael ever wanted to see each other again, Michael had gone to all the trouble of leaving that message. What did he hope to gain by it?
    Nancy was beginning to get the feeling that Luke and Michael’s history was just a bit more complicated than Michael was letting on.
    Nancy saw Michael glance over her shoulder. “Speak of the devil,” he said, “here’s Luke now.”
    Luke marched up to the railing, his face grim. “You have some nerve helping yourself to my Jeep,” he said tersely to Nancy. “It’s meant foremergencies only. Coming over here doesn’t count as one, so hand back the keys!”
    â€œI don’t have them,” Nancy said hastily. “I left them with Ned. I think he’s in the coffee shop.”
    â€œFine. I’ll get them. I do not want you driving the Jeep back to the lodge.” Luke swung around.
    â€œJust a minute,” Michael called. An odd smile touched his mouth. “Luke—Ericsen, is it?”
    Luke turned back and fixed his eyes on Michael. A peculiar expression was on his face. Hostile? Not exactly. It was more like . . . confusion, as if he were looking beyond Michael, seeing someone else.
    Nancy