Colombo suggested that maybe there were some under-the-table sales, which Sol knew nothing about.
"There could be," his friend replied. "But I see the company's books, and I'm sure they report every sale of crocodiles faithfully."
Nancy was puzzled, and asked about The Whisper's comings and goings. Sol knew little. "Mr. Gimler often goes out in it, but he never says where. Sometimes he brings back food."
Bess remarked that it sounded secretive. "I guess Mr. Gimler doesn't want anybody finding out what's going on at the island."
Sol agreed. "By the way, those of us who are still working there are likely to lose our jobs any time."
"Why?" Nancy asked.
Sol said he had overheard the bosses say that they planned to sell out. They were going to offer all their shares of stock to Mr. Gonzales or some other people.
"That's strange," Nancy reflected. "Not long ago Mr. Gimler and Mr. Sacco were offering to buy Mr. Gonzales's stock in the Crocodile Ecology Company."
No one had an answer to this puzzle. Sol changed the subject. "Whether I lose my job or not, I'd like to get away from that place. It scares me. I have a feeling that the police are going to find out that something crooked is going on at the island and arrest the top men. Then I'll be called in as a witness. Mr. Gimler and Mr. Sacco might even tell lies about me and I'll be sent to jail!"
Nancy was shocked to hear this. "You mean that the partners are really mean and mad enough to do that?"
"I wouldn't put it past them," Sol replied.
George told him that the girls were only visitors and had very few contacts at Key Biscayne. "But if we ever hear of a job you could fill, we'll let Colombo know."
"Thank you," Sol said. "I'd appreciate it. I don't even like the men I work with out on the island. In fact, I don't trust any of them. If something dishonest is going on, they're probably in league with the bosses."
Nancy said that under the circumstances she was amazed that they had not already discharged Sol. "Unless you haven't given any indication that you're suspicious."
"Oh, I haven't," he told her. "And I don't think the other men have any idea I'm squealing on them."
"That's good," Nancy praised him. "You're sort of playing detective. Keep up the good work and report to us as often as you can."
Sol promised to do so, but said it was becoming more difficult to get away from the island. The few times he had tried it, Gimler had docked his pay.
"That's wicked!" George exclaimed. "Nobody should be expected to stay in one place and work all the time without any recreation!"
After a little more conversation, the girls thanked Sol again and left him and Colombo. As Nancy drove off, Bess asked, "Where to now?"
Nancy said she had a hunch that they should go back to the golf club and report this latest bit of information to Mr. Gonzales. At the desk the girls learned that he was playing golf.
"But he should be back soon," the clerk told them. "Why don't you go out to the porch? From there you can watch him come in on the eighteenth green."
The three friends hurried to the porch and took chairs near the railing. They had a clear view of the green and part of the fairway. Nancy, who played golf well, noticed that there were trees on one side of the fairway just before it ended at the green. "That really makes it hard," she thought. "A person would have to aim a straight shot not to hit those trees."
"Remember that beautiful golf course at the Deer Mountain Hotel, where we solved the mystery of The Haunted Bridge?" George asked.
"I sure do," Bess said. "Nancy won a tournament there." She giggled. "Here comes Father Time!"
An elderly man, who was almost as round as he was high and had long white hair and a flowing white beard, putted for the cup, missed it, and made a wry race.
Bess sighed. "This sure is a frustrating game."
"It is," Nancy said. "I've seen people get so mad that they threw their dubs away. Once a fellow almost hit his poor caddy!"
"Here comes Mr. Gonzales," George said. "He's a good distance away from the green. I wonder how he'll make out?"
The girls watched in silence as he took his position behind the ball and swung his club in a few practice strokes. Just as he placed the club behind the ball and got ready for his approach shot, another player's ball whizzed from among the trees to his right and hit him hard on the temple. Mr. Gonzales dropped his club and fell to the ground, unconscious.
"Oh!" all three girls cried out in horror.
Nancy, Bess, and George expected the other player to emerge from the woods and run up to the victim. But no one did.
"That ball must have been sent on purpose to hit Mr. Gonzales!" Nancy exclaimed.
The three girls jumped up and ran toward an outside stairway.
Bess suddenly pointed. "I see somebody running beyond those trees. He's carrying a bag of clubs. He must be the one who shot that ball!"
"Maybe he's a caddy," George added.
Nancy was torn between the desire to hurry after the suspect and the need to help Mr. Gonzales. By the time the girls reached the foot of the stairs, they noticed that several people had surrounded their friend. But no one was taking off after the suspect. This helped Nancy decide what to do, although the man was out of sight.
"Let's go!" she said. "We must catch him!"
"Where do you think he'll run?" Bess asked. "To the caddy house?"
"He doesn't seem to be heading in that direction," George replied. "Maybe he isn't a caddy, but a member who is running scared."
Nancy was already racing across another fairway toward a public road. The man with the golf bag suddenly came into view. He looked back and realized he was being chased. Despite the weight of the bag, he put on extra speed. Before the girls could get to him, he reached the road. A car was waiting for him. He jumped in and it roared off.
"Now we'll never know who he is," Bess wailed.
Nancy said she had seen the license plate and repeated the number to the girls.
"What's more, the glimpse I got of the man makes me think he's the one who spied on us out at the Easton estate!" She added, "Since we can't chase him, let's return to the clubhouse and phone the police."
The girls hurried back and told the manager what they had seen and asked him to call headquarters and give the license number. He did so, and the sergeant on duty promised to send two officers out at once.
While they were waiting, Nancy asked how Mr. Gonzales was. The manager replied, "He's still unconscious, but a doctor is with him. He's in a room down the hall."
Bess decided to go there and see if she could find out anything further. Nancy and George remained in the lobby. When the police officers arrived, the manager introduced them as Parks and Joyce.
"This young lady saw a man with a bag of clubs running away. She'll give you the details," the manager said.
The girl detective described how the suspect had fled in a car, adding that she had managed to see the license plate. "Headquarters has the number."
"Yes, we know it," Parks said. "Can you tell us anything else about the man?"
"Yes," Nancy replied. "I think he's the same person who was spying on me and my friends while we were watching the crocodiles at the Easton estate. He was peering at us from behind some mangroves, so I caught only a glimpse of his face. He had shoulder-length black hair and beady eyes. He might be a half-breed Indian. I'm afraid that's all I can tell you about him."
"That's more than people usually notice," Officer Joyce complimented her, "Thank you for the information."
While he had been talking, Lieutenant Parks picked up the manager's phone and called headquarters. He asked the sergeant on duty to look up the license number Nancy had given him.
"It's urgent," she heard him say.
They all waited for an answer, which came in a few minutes. When the manager heard the name of the owner, he showed utter astonishment. "That's my name! It's my car! It must have been stolen!"