“The evidence certainly seems stacked against her,” Nancy said noncommittally.
“What did Veronica have to say?” George asked, a slight edge to her voice. “Anything interesting?”
Kevin nervously began tapping on the table. “Veronica—let’s see,” he said, attempting, unsuccessfully, to be casual. “Well, she’s an interesting girl. A little sad, actually,” he said.
“Oh?” George said coldly. “For instance?”
“Well, she’s an orphan, you know. And she doesn’t have a lot of money,” Kevin replied. “The O’Connells have been very good to her. They’ve known her since she was a little girl. She and Trish belong to the same skating club.”
“Does Veronica think Trish is sabotaging the contest?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, no,” he said. “Definitely not. Veronica kept saying how sweet Trish is. I guess you never want to see anything bad in someone you like.”
“I know what you mean,” George said, glaring at Kevin.
Nancy tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the tablecloth. “I don’t get it. How can Veronica afford a skating career if she doesn’t have much money?” she asked. “Skating’s an expensive sport.”
“That it is,” Kevin said, shaking his head sadly. “Veronica’s always had a corporate sponsor—most good skaters do. They pay for training, costumes, ice time, travel—everything. Unfortunately for Veronica, the company that sponsored her was just sold to another corporation that doesn’t believe in sponsoring athletes. She has to find another sponsor soon, or she won’t be able to skate long enough to be in the Olympics next year—which has been her lifelong goal.”
Suddenly George froze, staring at something across the room. “Speaking of the poor, dear girl,” she said stiffly, “there she is.”
Wearing a fluffy pink jacket and blue jeans, Veronica Taylor walked into the dining room. With her was Brian Adderly, Yoko’s coach.
“Hi, Kevin,” Veronica said, walking over to their table. “Hi, George and Nancy,” she added. Brian walked up behind her and nodded to them.
“We were just at the hospital,” Veronica went on. “Yoko’s going to be okay. They’re going to let her out of the hospital tomorrow. It was just a concussion. I’m so relieved!”
Brian Adderly was grinning widely. “She can’t wait to get back on the ice.”
Nancy was surprised. “Is she well enough to skate in the long program?”
Brian shook his head reluctantly. “Oh, no. She’ll just be coming as a spectator. We’re going to have to wait till next year to compete again. But Yoko’s tough. She told me she’s ready to get back to work as soon as possible, and her family agrees that it’s a good idea.”
“That’s great,” said George.
Nancy noted that Brian Adderly still thought of himself as Yoko’s coach. Apparently, things had been patched up between them.
“Well, I don’t want to interrupt your dinner,” Veronica said, her eyes fixed on Kevin. “But I thought you’d want to know about Yoko.”
Kevin glanced at the skater uneasily. “Oh, we did,” he mumbled.
“Well, see you later. ’Bye, Kevin,” Veronica cooed. Then she and Brian walked over to the hostess to be seated.
“That’s it,” George announced. “I’m leaving.”
Kevin was shocked. “All I did was say hello,” he said. “We don’t even have our food yet!”
“I saw the way the two of you were looking at each other!” George said angrily.
“She was looking at me! I wasn’t doing anything back!” Kevin protested.
George didn’t say anything but simply got up from the table.
“Wait, George,” Kevin pleaded. “Don’t go.” Ignoring him, George asked Nancy, “Are you coming?”
“Yes,” Nancy said, with an apologetic look at Kevin. “See you tomorrow, Kev.”
Nancy followed George as she hurried from the dining room. “Ugh,” George said, when they were safely out. “Did you see the way she was ogling him?”
“She does seem to have a crush on him,” Nancy observed.
“Well, good for her,” George said, fuming. “She can have him. Let’s go home.”
“Wait, George,” Nancy said, grabbing her friend’s arm. “I have a better idea. Trish and Veronica are rooming together. If Veronica is here, Trish may be alone in her room. Why don’t we see if we can talk to her before we go home for the night? I’d like to see what she has to say.”
George stared moodily at the restaurant door. “Okay,” she finally said. “At least it should help me get my mind off Kevin.”
Checking at the desk, Nancy and George found out that Veronica and Trish were in Room 724. They took an elevator to the seventh floor.
The girls followed the arrow under the sign saying “Rooms 720–724.” Just as they turned the first corner, Nancy stopped in her tracks and grabbed George by the arm.
There, furtively closing a door, was a slender man whom Nancy instantly recognized.
It was Dieter Grunsbach!
Chapter
Fourteen
HER EYES RIVETED on the back of his head, Nancy motioned for George to stop. Questioning her with a look, George followed Nancy back around the corner and down the hall past the elevators. They ducked into the first hallway and waited.
Safely obscured from view, Nancy peeked out around the corner. Grunsbach walked quickly toward the elevator and pressed the Down button. A moment later he stepped into the elevator and disappeared.
“Come on, George,” Nancy said. “Let’s tail him!”
The two girls raced to the elevators, where Nancy pressed the Down button. When she scanned the floor indicator, Nancy grimaced.
Grunsbach’s elevator was already at the first floor. The second elevator that Nancy was waiting for was stuck on the fourth floor.
“We’re not going to make it before he leaves the hotel, George,” Nancy said as both elevators stayed on their respective floors. “There’s no sense even trying. Let’s see which room he came out of.”
Nancy and George went back to the door where they had just seen the corporate spy.
“Room seven twenty-four,” George said, reading the gold numbers affixed to the door.
“That’s Trish and Veronica’s room,” Nancy said, frowning. “I wonder what he was doing in there.”
She fished in her purse and pulled out a flat case. “We’ll soon find out,” she added.
“Nancy! I don’t believe you have your lockpick kit with you,” said George, recognizing the familiar set.
Nancy only smiled as she used the delicate metal instrument to fiddle with the lock opening under the doorknob. A satisfied smile crossed her face. “Got it,” she told George.
Inside the room, the overhead light was on. “Trish? Are you here?” Nancy called out.
There was no answer.
“George, do you realize what this means?” Nancy asked, a sense of excitement rising in her. “Dieter Grunsbach has just linked one of these girls to the theft of the Opto chip!”
“But we know Veronica is downstairs,” George pointed out. “That means he must have come here to meet Trish or leave a message for her.”
“Let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Nancy warned. “Not yet. Right now I think we should just search for clues.”
Nancy stepped inside the room, with George close behind her. A paperback book about the Olympics lay open on one of the beds. Veronica’s name was written on the inside cover. “This must be Veronica’s bed,” George surmised as Nancy continued looking around.
On the long, low bureau between the beds were makeup bags, hot rollers, and hairbrushes.
“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary,” George said.
“I do,” Nancy told her. “Check out the inside corner of the other bed, by the pillow.” The beige bedspread was folded up slightly, unlike the one on the bed across from it.
“That must be Trish’s bed,” George said. Nancy walked over and touched the covers lig
htly. She ran her fingers around the pillow and felt the tip of a business envelope.
“Aha!” Nancy said triumphantly, holding the envelope up for George to see.
“A message from Dieter Grunsbach?” George murmured.
“Probably,” Nancy replied, examining the envelope. “We’re in luck, too. It’s not sealed.”
She quickly pulled out the paper inside and unfolded it. “Hmm,” she said, reading it over and then handing it to George.
“ ‘Sponsorship Arrangements,’ ” George read out loud in a puzzled voice. “ ‘The party of the first part agrees, upon receipt of certain items, to procure an arrangement for sponsorship with the party of the second part. This shall include reimbursement for any expenses occurred during procurement, allowing for total confidentiality of certain other actions on the part of the sponsor on behalf of the bearer.’ ”
George looked up from the letter, totally perplexed. “What in the world does it mean?”
“Either a lawyer wrote that, or else it’s deliberately complicated so if anyone found it they wouldn’t understand what it was about,” Nancy said.
George’s eyes lit up. “Nan, remember Kevin said Veronica needed a new sponsor?”
“Yes. I remember,” Nancy said, her eyes narrowing. “On the other hand, that’s Veronica’s book on the table by the near bed. It looks as if it’s under Trish’s pillow.”
Biting her lip, George tilted her head and thought about it. “How do we find out?” she asked.
“Well, for now, I think we put this back right where we found it,” Nancy said, carefully replacing the letter inside the envelope and slipping it under the pillow.
“I’ll check the closet for clues,” George said, walking through the open door and disappearing.
“George?” Nancy called from the window, where she was searching behind the open drapes. “Find anything?”
George stepped out of the closet, appearing to be shocked. In her hands was a pastel-pink gift-wrapped box with a shimmery pearl ribbon. “I don’t know whether to kill someone or cry!” George said, holding the gift up for Nancy to see. “Can you believe this?”
George’s chin was trembling as she handed the gift to Nancy. Her wide brown eyes had filled with tears.
Nancy took the gift. There, on the little tag taped to the top, she read, “‘To Veronica, From K.D.’”
“K.D.!” George spat out. “Kevin Davis! That miserable, low-life, two-timing liar! Do you know he practically had me convinced that she forced that kiss on him?”
Nancy stared at the gaily wrapped box. Poor George. Nancy knew that if she ever found a gift to another girl marked with Ned Nickerson’s initials, she’d feel very upset, too. “You’d better put this back where you found it, George,” Nancy said.
George stared at the gift and back at Nancy, her eyes burning with curiosity. “Aren’t we going to open it? I’m dying to know what that creep bought for his new girlfriend. I wonder if it’s perfume. Maybe it’s the same kind he gave me! I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“I think we should leave it alone, George,” Nancy advised. “Where exactly did you find it?”
Still fuming, George waved the box in the air. “In the closet.”
Before George could return the box, the door to the room swung open and Trish O’Connell walked in.
The skater looked from Nancy to George in confusion. “What’s going on? Why are you in my room?”
George quickly put the wrapped box on the dresser. “Well, Trish, you see, w-we—” she stammered.
Slamming the door behind her, Trish marched over to the nearest bed and sat down. She raised her eyes and accused Nancy. “You’re investigating me, aren’t you! You think I’ve done all those awful things everyone else has decided I did, and you’re in here snooping for proof!”
“That’s not true, Trish,” Nancy said. “The truth is, George and I don’t believe that you did all those things. We think you’re being set up. But here’s the thing—we don’t know by whom, and we don’t know why. That’s what we want to find out. And you’ve got to help us.”
Nancy went over to the far bed and fished out the envelope she’d discovered. Holding it up for Trish to see, she said, “Let’s start with this letter, Trish. Who’s it from and what’s it all about? It’s time to lay all your cards on the table. All of them.”
Chapter
Fifteen
LAY MY CARDS on the table? What cards?” Trish said wearily, slumping back against the pillow and squeezing her eyes shut. “This week has been one long nightmare,” she said. “I feel like giving up. Maybe I should just confess to everything. I know that would make a lot of people happy.”
“No one would be happy about it, Trish,” George said softly from where she stood near the bureau. “But if you were responsible for what happened—”
Trish shook her head and reached for a tissue from the box on the night table. “I’m not responsible, George,” she said, dabbing her eyes. “I guess I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”
“Which is perfectly understandable,” Nancy said gently. “But not very useful.”
Trish straightened herself up and faced Nancy. “What’s that letter you were showing me before?” she asked.
Nancy handed Trish the letter. Taking it in her slender hands, she read it and was very puzzled. “What is this? Some sort of sponsorship agreement?” she asked.
“You don’t know anything about it?” Nancy asked, confused.
“Not a thing,” Trish said, her face a blank. “Besides, you just pulled it out from under Ronnie’s pillow.”
Nancy raised her eyebrows. “That’s funny,” she said. “When we walked in and saw Veronica’s book on your bed, we thought the letter must have been left for you.”
“Oh, no,” Trish said, managing a little smile. “This is my bed. Ronnie lent me her book the other day.”
“So that letter was left under Veronica’s pillow,” Nancy said.
“I knew there was a reason I couldn’t stand her,” George muttered under her breath.
“Trish,” Nancy said, “I think I know who’s behind all the trouble. I also think that deep down you know who it is, too.”
The skater’s eyes filled with tears, and she bit her lip.
George let out a little, involuntary gasp. “Are you saying—”
Nancy met her friend’s eyes squarely. “Let’s go over everything. Someone put a paper clip on the ice, and Veronica fell.”
“That could have been a total accident, Nancy,” George cautioned.
“Possibly,” Nancy agreed.
“The ASF is pretty careful about how the ice is maintained, George,” Trish said, drawing her knees up and hugging them.
“Okay, let’s go on,” Nancy said. “Next, there was that threatening note that Veronica found in her sweater pocket.”
Trish leaned forward with a little shiver. “Ronnie showed me that note. It was creepy. Doesn’t it prove that someone was after her, too?”
Nancy shook her head. “Anyone can write a note in block letters—even the person the note’s addressed to.”
“But, Nancy,” Trish insisted, “Veronica would never do something like that—just like I wouldn’t.”
“Maybe not,” Nancy said noncommittally. “Then there were Elaine’s skates, the ones that were found in your locker. Trish, when you got your locker combination, did you write it down?”
“I had to,” Trish said. “Until I memorized it.”
“And where did you keep the paper it was written on?” Nancy asked.
“In my wallet,” Trish answered. “But I never left my wallet around for anyone to see. It was either on me or right here in the room.”
“Right here in the room,” George repeated, picking up on Nancy’s thoughts. “Where Veronica could find it.”
Nancy nodded. “How about your blue costume? Was that ever here in the room?” she probed.
Trish’s face had grown pale. “Well, yes. Of course.
This is where I kept it,” she answered weakly.
“So Veronica had the opportunity to pluck a few sequins off the costume, to use as clues against you,” Nancy pointed out.
“What you’re saying is too awful, Nancy,” Trish cried. “I hate hearing all this! Veronica’s a good friend of mine! She wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Desperate people do desperate things, Trish,” George said sadly. “You might have been the easiest person to pin the crimes on. You were close to her, so she had lots of chances to set you up.”
Trish shut her eyes and shook her head.
“One last thing, Trish,” Nancy went on gently. “Yoko had her blade screws filed down, and the file was found in your purse. Was that purse up here in the room, too?”
Trish hesitated and then nodded. “But I still can’t believe what you’re saying. You’re trying to frame Ronnie, the same way someone tried to frame me!”
“Trish, I know this is hard on you, but let’s stay with it a minute,” Nancy told the skater. “The Opto circuit board. Your dad told us that you knew where it was. Did you tell anyone else where it was located?”
Trish stared at Nancy. Then she covered her face in both hands and nodded her head. “I—I told my—my closest friend,” she finally stammered.
“Veronica,” Nancy said quietly.
The room was silent as Nancy, George, and Trish digested this last piece of information. Then Trish uncovered her face and went on, “My father told me not to tell anyone, and I wasn’t going to,” she said, gulping back tears. “Ronnie kept teasing me about making such a big deal about where some stupid computer chips were, and I thought I could trust her. Then, when the board was taken, I didn’t say anything because Ronnie insisted that she didn’t have anything to do with it. She told me she thought computers were boring.”
Tears streamed down Trish’s cheeks. “Oh, I—I just can’t believe it!” she whispered. “It has to be her, doesn’t it? I mean, otherwise, it’s me, right?”
Nancy nodded gravely. “I’m pretty sure the man who stole the Opto chips left this note for someone in this room,” she said.