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Authors: Carolyn Keene

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Nine

M
URDER
!” George gasped, staring at the filed-down screws Nancy held in her palm. “That seems unbelievable, but it's true, Yoko could have been killed out there.”

“I have to go show this to someone from the federation and the referee,” Nancy said grimly. “The police, too, of course. Risking a skater's life is a lot worse than stealing a pair of skates.”

“Or even a circuit board,” George added, her brown eyes flashing. “Nan, do you think the Opto chips theft is connected to these incidents?”

“I've had the same thought, George,” Nancy said, “but I can't put it all together. What do
stealing a corporate secret and sabotaging a skating contest have in common?”

“There's Kathy Soren,” George said, touching Nancy lightly on the arm and nodding in the direction of the former skating champion. Ms. Soren was joining the judges in an informal conference near their platform.

“Let's go show her what we found,” Nancy suggested.

“She's going to be shocked,” George said as they hurried in the direction of the federation official.

“Ms. Soren,” Nancy began, walking up to her. “Can we see you for a moment, please—in private? It's extremely urgent.”

The former champion seemed perplexed by the request, but she excused herself. Then she stepped over to Nancy and George.

“I found these on the ice,” Nancy explained, opening her hand to show the official the filed-down screws. “They must be the screws from Yoko's blade because the ice was resurfaced just before she went out. But look here—they've been filed down so they'd come loose with enough pressure.”

Anger crept over Ms. Soren's face as she peered down at the small metal objects. “I see what you mean,” Ms. Soren said. “May I have these, please? I want to show them to Mr. Fleischman and the referee right away.” She held out her hand for Nancy to drop the screws in her palm. Then she strode over to where the head judge
stood, talking with a referee. Nancy and George followed.

“Excuse me, Mr. Fleischman. These young ladies just found something that you should see,” she said. “It's very important.”

“Oh?” Fleischman asked nervously, pointedly avoiding Nancy's and George's eyes. “Well, as long as you relay the information for them. I see from their passes that the young ladies are with Worldwide Sports, and I'm under very strict constraints about talking with anyone from the press corps. I don't wish there to be even a hint of impropriety regarding my actions.”

The skating official nodded and turned to the girls. “I'll speak with Mr. Fleischman and the referee privately. Please wait a moment.”

“Of course,” Nancy said politely, stepping a few feet away. When she and George were safely out of earshot, she whispered, “Mr. Fleischman certainly is making a big show of sticking to the rules.”

“Yes,” George said with an ironic grin, “especially for a guy who was in a car with a reporter just yesterday.”

“George,” Nancy said more intensely, “if he's not doing the best imitation of guilt I ever saw, he's hiding something—something big. He wouldn't even look at us!”

The judge, the referee, and the ASF official conferred a moment longer before Kathy Soren walked back over to Nancy and George. “Mr. Fleischman told me to tell you that they'll look
into this matter,” she said, her manner more formal than it had been before.

“Will you be contacting the police?” Nancy asked.

“Yes, we will,” she answered hesitantly. Then all at once she let out a big breath, as if lowering her guard. “To be honest, girls, Mr. Fleischman feels we should keep the matter under wraps for a while, to avoid any unpleasant publicity,” she confided to them. “My opinion is that the police should be contacted without delay. Since this is an ASF event, I'm taking the responsibility for contacting them.”

“Good,” Nancy said. “You'd better hang on to the screws then.”

“I will,” Ms. Soren said with a tense nod. “Now please excuse me.”

As Nancy and George walked back to their seats, George shook her head in frustration. “Things are pretty heavy around here,” she said grimly.

“That's an understatement,” Nancy agreed, sitting down to wait for the contest to resume. During the delay in the action, the recently repaired Optoboard was entertaining the crowd. Right now it was flashing cuts of various amusing interviews with the women singles skaters.

The image of Suzanne Jurgens disappeared from the screen, followed by a picture of Veronica Taylor seated on a sofa, talking to Kevin.

“Kevin!” Nancy said, touching George's shoulder. But George's attention was already riveted on the Optoboard. She and seven thousand
other people watched Kevin and Veronica as they talked casually.

“What do I like to do when I'm not on the ice? Oh, let's see—I guess my favorite thing is being interviewed,” Veronica said, laughing.

“That little twerp is flirting again,” George grumbled.

Nancy had to agree with her friend's assessment. Veronica's behavior was far from subtle.

“Of course, I like going out to dinner and dancing, too. In fact, if you'd like to arrange some time on the dance floor—” Veronica tilted her head coyly and fixed Kevin with her intense dark eyes.

Kevin cleared his throat, gave a little laugh, then went on to the next question.

“Give me a break.” George rolled her eyes, and the Optoboard changed to a clip of downtown Montgomery, with pictures of the sports complex under construction.

“Let's go get a cold drink, Nancy,” George suggested.

“Good idea,” Nancy agreed.

They got up from their seats and walked through the archway that led to the concessions. After the girls paid for two sodas, they sauntered over to the wall across from the concession stand to drink them.

“George,” Nancy said quietly. “I can't figure out who's responsible for what's going on around here.”

“If you can't, I definitely can't,” George replied, shaking her head helplessly.

“Obviously, someone is trying to sabotage the female skaters,” Nancy continued.
“And
somebody actually pulled off a major theft, one that can cost the Fiber-Op Corporation millions.”

George nodded. “I bet the technology behind the Opto chips will be used in everything in a few years.”

Nancy nodded. “Let's just think of who might be trying to hurt the skaters for a minute,” she said. “Who have the victims been so far? Veronica—she had the paper-clip accident and the note.”

“Elaine had her skates taken,” George said, helping construct the list.

“Yoko was set up for a fall with those filed-down screws,” Nancy concluded. “That leaves the other seven skaters. Maybe someone is trying to knock out the competition to make sure she qualifies for the World Championships.”

“Nancy,” George said thoughtfully, “any of the seven could have done it, but some of them aren't in the same class as Yoko or Elaine. They couldn't possibly hope to finish in the top four.”

“True,” Nancy replied. “The only ones who could really be helped by sabotage are Suzanne Jurgens, Ann Lasser, Terri Barton—”

“And, of course, Trish O'Connell,” George finished. “She's the most likely suspect, much as I hate to say it.”

“Trish,” Nancy repeated, with a sigh. “The skates
were
found in her locker.”

“But, Nancy,” George said. “Trish is so nice. I can't believe she took those skates!”

“Me, neither,” Nancy replied. “Especially after she opened that locker right in front of us. It just doesn't add up.

“Brian Adderly is a possibility. He might have tried to sabotage Veronica and Elaine to help Yoko, then turned on Yoko when she argued with him. But that's pretty farfetched.”

“Well, what about Gilbert Fleischman?” George suggested. “He's obviously up to no good, the way he was such a goody-goody about the rules one minute and breaking them the next.”

Nancy nodded. “Also, do you remember, Yoko said Mr. Fleischman had been out on the ice before that paper clip was found? Yes, something's definitely going on with him,” she said. “But what? What would he possibly have to gain by sabotaging the contest? If he wanted to have a specific skater win, he's in the perfect position to do it by tampering with the scores. He wouldn't have to file down screws or plant objects on the ice.”

“Ladies and gentleman, thank you for your patience,” came an announcer's voice from the speakers above them. “The short program is now about to resume. Skating first will be Elaine Devery.”

“Let's get back inside,” Nancy said, finishing up her drink and tossing the cup in the garbage.

“I can't wait to see Elaine's program,” George said, doing the same.

The two girls hurried back through the archway and into the stadium. When they got to their seats, Elaine Devery was already standing at the edge of the ice, about to perform. She looked lovely in a powder blue costume with cap sleeves decorated with tufts of tulle. Her dark blue leggings had small gold stars all over them.

George suddenly grabbed Nancy's arm. “Look! She has blue sequins on her sleeves.”

“I can't tell from here,” Nancy replied, squinting, “but I don't think they're a match for the ones we found. That blue looks different.”

“Shhh!” came some voices behind them. Nancy and George were quiet and watched the performance.

Elaine extended one arm gracefully into the air, and chords from Tchaikovsky's
Swan Lake
filled the arena. Elaine swept into her routine, taking the audience with her on a journey of effortless grace and skill. The lyrical music perfectly matched her graceful movements as she twisted and leapt in a beautiful, balletic performance.

Just as the program was building to a climax, a scratching sound was heard over the speakers. Gone were the gentle classical strains. Instead a thundering, ear-blasting rap song shook the
building. The bewildered skater came to a halt in the middle of the ice, utter distress and confusion on her lovely face.

“Yo, baby—can I—can I—can I be rude?” came a gruff voice punctuated by the hard beat of a drum. “You're the kind of a girl for a natural dude! Yeow, yeow, yeow, I say, yeow!”

Chapter

Ten

T
HAT CAN'T BE
the music she picked!” Nancy said above the blaring rap song. “Someone changed her tape.”

Out on the ice, Elaine waved to the referee and held her arms out in a helpless gesture.

The tape came to a sudden stop as the audience began buzzing.

“Come on, George,” Nancy said, getting up and stepping into the aisle. “Let's check out the sound system. The control room is up on the press level.”

“Mike Campo can probably show us where it is,” George said as she rose and moved into the
aisle after Nancy. The girls quickly made their exit under the archway, found the elevator, showed their passes to the guard, and rode up to the press level.

When they entered the Worldwide booth, some of the crew were by the window, staring out. Nancy saw Kevin in his Plexiglas cubicle, and from the red light over his door she could tell he was broadcasting live. Joining the others, she and George peered down at the ice. There, Elaine was finishing her routine without music.

“What's going on?” George asked.

“Fleischman is using his discretion as head judge to make her finish the routine without music,” one of the production assistants told her.

“Nice guy,” George muttered.

Skating valiantly, Elaine completed her routine, but without the music the performance was empty and uninspired. By the time she glided to a stop, ending on a bended knee with her arms outstretched, she appeared very tense. Although Nancy was too far to be sure, she thought she could detect the skater's chin trembling as she fought back her tears.

With a weak wave to the crowd, Elaine glided off the ice to the holding area, where she covered her face in shame.

Soon the judges held up their scorecards, and a low murmur went through the crowd. “The judges certainly didn't show her any mercy,” George said sadly, noting Elaine's poor scores for artistry.

“Has anybody seen Mike Campo?” Nancy asked the Worldwide people.

“He's in the sound room—three doors down,” the production assistant said. “He went there the minute we heard the messed-up tape.”

Nancy and George headed immediately for the sound room. “Oh, man!” they heard a woman groan as they stepped in through the open door. A woman of about twenty-five was sitting and talking with Mike Campo.

“Mind if we come in?” Nancy asked.

“Of course not,” Mike said. He turned to the curly-haired woman and said, “Liz, this is Nancy and George. They're Kevin's friends.”

BOOK: Cutting Edge
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