A Date with Deception (4 page)

George took Gary's hand.
“You
might not be able to get in, but
we
can,” she said. She looked at Nancy. “I think we should pay a visit to Jetstream, don't you?”

“Absolutely,” Nancy agreed. “I don't know if they'll tell us anything, but it won't hurt to ask.”

Gary managed a smile. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

“You'd better go for a long swim, or a walk, or do something to calm yourself down,” George told her boyfriend softly. “You look awfully tense.”

Gary gave a short laugh. “Is that so surprising?” he asked.

“George and I will tell you the second we find out anything,” Nancy said, trying to reassure him.

Taking Gary's arm, George led him to the door of the auditorium and kissed him briefly. “Don't worry,” she said. “It must be a mistake.”

After Gary left, Bess walked Nancy and George out to the car. “I'll stay and go with Sasha and Marina to the beach if you guys aren't back in time,” she offered.

“Great,” Nancy said. She climbed into the driver's seat and pulled away.

“Sasha was right,” George said, as she and Nancy drove toward the Jetstream complex.

“Sasha was right about what?” Nancy asked.

“Somebody planted that blueprint in Gary's locker to make him look guilty,” George said. “Gary flies planes, he doesn't design them. What would he be doing with a blueprint?”

“As he said, he could have gotten hold of it any time,” Nancy reminded her. “And whoever's leaking the plans is probably getting a pile of money from Aviane. Test pilots don't make big salaries, do they?”

“Nancy!” George's dark eyes widened in shock. “You don't think he's guilty, do you? I know he isn't. He wouldn't do anything like this!”

“I'm just trying to think like Jetstream,” Nancy explained.

Of course, she thought, she and George had known Gary for only a couple of weeks. They didn't know much about him, really, except that he'd grown up in Ohio and that he was friendly and easygoing. Friendly, easygoing people
did
commit crimes.

Still, he was so shocked and upset when he came to the institute that Nancy was almost
positive he wasn't faking his innocence. She'd have to keep her eyes open, but she really believed he was innocent, and she hoped for George's sake she was right.

The Jetstream complex was about twenty minutes from the dance institute and was located in the middle of what had once been potato fields. It had its own airstrip and hangars, and the offices were in a low, sleek, tinted-glass building surrounded by a high metal fence.

Driving up to the main gate, Nancy realized they would probably need some kind of pass to get in. Sure enough, the guard immediately asked for them.

“We don't have any,” Nancy told him. “But we're here to see Eileen Martin. She's expecting us.” She told him their names and waited while the guard made a call from his phone. When he hung up, he wrote out two passes, gave them to Nancy, and waved them through the gate.

“I didn't know you'd called her,” George said as Nancy drove into the parking lot.

“I didn't,” Nancy said. “I just took a chance and kept my fingers crossed.”

“Good idea,” George remarked. “I know you'll find out who did this, and I also know it won't be Gary.”

“Then let's get started,” Nancy said.

Passing a large bronze sculpture of an airplane, the girls walked to the main entrance of
the Jetstream building. Eileen Martin was waiting for them inside the glass doors.

“Well,” she said with a laugh, “you're right on time!”

Nancy laughed, too. “Thanks for getting us in, Eileen.”

“No problem,” Eileen assured them as they started down a hallway. “I must say I was a little surprised, though. It's such a warm day, I thought you'd be at the beach.”

“We're going later,” Nancy said, glancing down at her white shorts and orange T-shirt. “We would have changed before we came, but we were kind of in a hurry.”

“It's an emergency,” George added.

“Sounds serious.” Eileen led them into her office, which had a desk, a drafting table, file cabinets, and windows with a view of the bronze airplane sculpture. “What's it about?”

“Gary Powell,” George said.

At the mention of Gary's name, Eileen's friendly expression changed. She frowned and pursed her lips, and her soft brown eyes seemed to get darker. “What a shame,” she murmured. “Such a nice young man.”

“He didn't do it,” George told her. “He wouldn't.”

“Oh, I hope you're right,” Eileen said. “But I'm afraid Jetstream's convinced that he did. And the evidence is pretty damaging for him. I wonder how he's going to clear his name.”

“That's why we're here,” George said.
“Nancy especially. She's a detective, and she told Gary she'd try to find out what happened.”

Eileen looked startled, then gave a little laugh. “That's right. Eloise mentioned your work, Nancy. I'd forgotten.”

“George and I were hoping you might be able to help us,” Nancy said. “Gary said you were a senior engineer here. Did you work on the plane?”

Eileen rolled her eyes. “I haven't worked on anything else for over two years,” she said. “I'm still working on it.”

“Then maybe you could tell us about it,” Nancy suggested. “And about the blueprint they found in Gary's locker.”

“Well, everyone here is under strict orders not to discuss it,” Eileen said. “The president, Mr. Elkins, has been very specific about that.”

“Maybe we should talk to him,” Nancy suggested.

Eileen shook her head. “He's at a meeting in Washington, and he'll be away for four days.” She sighed. “I
can
tell you that Jetstream is convinced they've found the leak—Gary. And now that they've got it plugged up, so to speak, we're going ahead to try to get our plane on the market before the competition does.”

“Isn't Jetstream worried that if Gary's not the leak, then whoever is will get any new plans to Aviane?” Nancy asked.

Eileen frowned again and looked worried for a moment. Then she shook her head. “Jetstream must really be convinced that Gary's the one.”

George started to protest but was interrupted when the phone buzzed. Eileen answered it, listened for a few seconds, then said, “All right, Bill, hold your horses. I'll bring it now.”

She hung up and gathered some papers from her desk. “That was Bill Fairgate—he designed the Jetstar,” she said. “Very impatient man. When he wants something, he wants it five minutes ago.”

“I guess we'd better not keep you, then,” Nancy said.

“Oh, dear, I'm afraid I haven't been any help at all.” Eileen sighed. “It's just such a sticky situation—I'm sure you understand.” Clipping the papers together, she went to the door. “Bill's office is on the way, so why don't you come with me? I'll drop these off and then show you out.”

Leaving Eileen's office, the three of them walked back down the hall. George looked disappointed, but Nancy was glad for the chance to meet the Jetstar's designer. Maybe she could get something out of him.

Bill Fairgate was in his forties, Nancy guessed, short and stocky and extremely grumpy looking. He barely nodded when
Eileen introduced them, but when she told him that Nancy was a detective, he actually laughed.

“Jetstream hired you a little late, didn't they?” he asked sarcastically. “The horse is already out of the barn.”

“I'm investigating on my own,” Nancy told him. “I don't work for Jetstream.”

“Smart girl,” Bill muttered. “Anyone who does work for this company ought to have his head examined.”

What's eating him? Nancy wondered.

“Now, Bill!” Eileen laughed, but Nancy could tell she was embarrassed.

“Come on, Eileen,” he said. “You know what I'm talking about. This place was asking for it—”

“Bill!” Eileen interrupted again, handing him the papers. “Excuse us just a moment,” she said to the girls.

She and Bill bent their heads together and conferred quietly. George and Nancy waited by his desk, which was near the door. The desk was a mess, with papers and used coffee cups cluttering the entire top.

Without really meaning to, Nancy found herself reading a memo that was sticking out from a sloppy heap of papers. The memo was addressed to Bill Fairgate and was dated four months earlier.

“Dear Bill,” it went. “Regarding your last memo, I'm afraid Jetstream must turn down
your request for a raise at this time. As I've told you, this in no way means that we don't appreciate your valuable contribution in designing the Jetstar.”

So Bill Fairgate had asked for more money and been turned down, Nancy thought, sneaking a glance at him. That might explain why he was such a grump.

There was more on the memo, but it was hidden. Nancy took hold of a corner of it. She was just about to give it a gentle tug when she became aware of the silence in the office.

Glancing up, Nancy saw that Eileen was still looking at the papers she'd brought in. But Bill Fairgate was looking at Nancy. His eyes were narrowed to slits, and his expression was no longer grumpy. It was furious. Furious
and
frightened, Nancy thought.

Nancy wondered if Bill Fairgate was more than just a grouch. Could he have been so fed up with Jetstream that he'd decided to sell his talents to another company? A French company named Aviane?

G
IVING
B
ILL
F
AIRGATE
her most innocent smile, Nancy shuffled the pile of papers into shape. “Sorry,” she said apologetically. “I'm an awful klutz. I nearly knocked these off your desk just now.”

Bill still glowered at her, but slowly the suspicious gleam left his eye. He grunted and turned back to Eileen.

George was gazing questioningly at Nancy. “We should go,” Nancy told her briskly. “Eileen and Mr. Fairgate must have tons of things to do. Thanks for your help, Eileen.”

“I only wish there was more I could do for
poor Gary,” Eileen told the girls. “Please let me know if you come up with any other leads.”

“Well, that didn't get us anywhere,” George complained as she and Nancy drove back to the dance institute. “I was really hoping Eileen could help us. I thought she would, since she likes Gary so much. I guess she's just scared of getting into trouble with Jetstream. So we're still at square one.” She frowned.

“Maybe not,” Nancy said. She told George about the memo and Bill Fairgate's reaction to her reading it. “He definitely has a big gripe with Jetstream, and it's about money.”

“Aviane must be paying a bundle for those plans!” George said excitedly. “That gives Bill Fairgate a really strong motive. This is great!”

“Don't start celebrating yet,” Nancy said. “It's just a possibility.”

“Don't worry,” George told her. “I know we don't have any proof, but Gary and the two pilots he rooms with are really good friends. I know they'll want to help him. Maybe they can find out about Bill Fairgate for us—like whether he just bought a new car or house or something really expensive.”

“Good thinking,” Nancy agreed.

“Why don't you drop me off at Gary's so I can tell him?” George suggested. “I know I'm supposed to go to the beach with you guys, but . . .”

“Don't worry about it,” Nancy said. “Finding
whoever sold those plans is more important. Be careful, though,” she warned. “As far as Jetstream is concerned, Gary's the guilty one. If he gets caught snooping around, he'll be in more trouble than he already is.”

After dropping George off at the small house Gary shared with two other pilots, Nancy hurried back to the dance institute.

Opening the door, she saw Dmitri, Marina, and a French dancer—Jacques somebody, whom she'd met the previous night—standing just outside the auditorium. As she walked toward them, she could hear that they were speaking in French. They spoke much too quickly for her to follow, but it was obvious that the conversation was serious—all three were wearing frowns, and their voices were low and intense.

All at once the three of them caught sight of Nancy and stopped talking immediately. Dmitri nodded to her, and Marina and Jacques stared at the floor.

“Hi,” Nancy said. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all.” Dmitri gave her a small smile. “We were discussing—”

“Sasha,” Marina finished with a sniff. “The rehearsal is over, and he is looking for you.”

“Oh.” They must be convinced I'm interested in Sasha, Nancy thought. I caught them gossiping about it with Jacques, and now
they're embarrassed. She wanted to set them straight, but first she had to set Sasha straight.