095 An Instinct for Trouble by Carolyn Keene Page B

personally, I hardly know them at all,” he finally said. “As far as their work goes, no complaints about them.”
    Nancy looked at Martin earnestly. “I know this is slightly irregular, but could I please see their personnel files?”
    Martin frowned. “I’m sorry. Nancy. Those files are confidential.”
    “Oh, of course, I understand,” Nancy re-
    plied. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do something that’s against the rules. But you have the right to consult their files, don’t you?”
    “Of course I do,” Martin said.
    “And if you looked through them and no-
    ticed anything that might be important for me to know, it would be only natural to mention it, wouldn’t it?”
    A slow smile spread across his lips. “That’s so,” he said, getting up and crossing to a bank of gray metal file cabinets. He scanned the labels on the drawers, then opened one near the bottom and pulled out two olive-colored hanging file folders. “Here we are,” he said.
    “Richard Geismar and Piker Slattery.”
    He opened the first of the files and glanced through it. Next he looked at the second one.
    “That’s funny,” he said. “These two guys both grew up in Ashland, Idaho. That’s a little town about forty miles west of the park. They were bom in the same year, too.”
    He flipped back and forth between the two files. “Odd,” he continued. “Their job records are practically identical.”
    “Would you mind if I check one or two of their references?” Nancy asked. “I’d need to use your phone.”
    “I think that would be all right,” Martin said. He grabbed a scratch pad and scribbled a couple of names and addresses on it, then passed it over. “Here are the most recent references.”
    Nancy dialed, but the first number Martin gave her was disconnected. She tried the next one.
    “Hopper and Wade Construction,” a polite voice said. “May I help you?”
    Nancy put on her most professional voice.
    “I hope so. I’m calling from the National Park Service in Yellowstone.” She gave Martin an apologetic look, but he just grinned. She turned her attention back to the phone, telling the woman that Richard and Piker were look-
    ing for jobs and had listed Hopper and Wade as a reference.
    “Gee, I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize the names,” the woman said. “Just a minute, let me punch them into our computer.” Nancy held her breath as the woman put her on hold.
    Finally, she heard a click over the line. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have a record of anyone with either of those names. Are you sure you have the right company?”
    “Yes,” Nancy replied. “Well, thanks very much.” She hung up. “Richard and Piker lied on their applications,” she told Martin.
    “That’s enough to get them fired. It’s strange -we usually check references,” Martin said.
    “But it doesn’t prove that they’re poachers-
    only liars. Come on, I’ll get those sleeping bags and air mattresses for you.”
    They loaded the gear into the trunk, then Martin said, “I’ll see you later,” and went back inside.
    At the hotel Nancy found Bess sitting in the lobby, wearing a blue workshirt and well-cut blue denim overalls. “I’m all ready to go camping,” she announced. “At least, as ready as I’ll ever be.”
    “What’s with the Turkowers?”
    “The desk clerk told me they went off for a day-long hike through the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone,” Bess replied dutifully.
    “I wonder if that’s where they really are,”
    Nancy said, then explained that she’d gotten mattresses and sleeping bags from Martin but had to go back for the tent. “I’ll drop you off at the campsite first,” she went on a little tensely.
    “I want you to keep track of the professor.”
    Fifteen minutes later Nancy watched Bess trudge up the path to the campsite, two sleep-
    ing bags slung over her shoulder and a suitcase in her left hand.
    Back at the ranger station. Nancy found a very grim Martin Robbins. “I checked