A Date with Deception (9 page)

Quickly Nancy pulled away and walked back down the block and around the corner. There she waited, peering around the edge of the building.

First Eileen and Bill came out. They got into separate cars and drove off in the same direction. To Jetstream, Nancy guessed.

At last Dmitri stepped out. He carried a bulging paper bag in one hand. Probably sandwiches, Nancy thought. But she was more interested in his other hand. In it was a folded sheet of white paper. He glanced at it, smiled, and tucked it carefully into the pocket of his lightweight windbreaker.

He could have just taken a menu from the sandwich shop, Nancy told herself. Or he could have gotten new plans for the Jetstar—hand delivered by Bill Fairgate.

G
IVING UP ON LUNCH
, Nancy started back toward the institute, keeping a safe distance from Dmitri Kolchak.

She wasn't sure what was happening. Had Dmitri actually gone into the Jetstream complex the previous night? Had he gotten something from Bill Fairgate then, and more information at the sandwich shop just now? Then why hadn't he waited and mailed both things at once? If he hadn't gotten anything from Bill the previous night, then what had he just mailed to France?

What about Eileen Martin? She and Bill Fairgate had obviously come to buy their
lunch. But with Eileen there, would Bill Fairgate really have dared to hand over secret information?

Nancy didn't have any answers. The paper Dmitri had put in his pocket might have some, though. She had to find a way to look at it.

She also had to find a way to get some leads on Bill Fairgate, Nancy realized. For instance, she could follow up on the reports that he liked to play the stock market. But how could she get any concrete information about his financial status, especially way out here in the Hamptons? If he was playing the stock market, he was probably doing it through a broker in New York. The only thing she could think to do was break into his office, either at work or at home, to look for bank statements or stockbroker's reports. That wouldn't be easy, and Nancy hated to do it if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

As she turned up the path to the institute, Nancy tapped her fingers thoughtfully on her cheek. Maybe she'd come up with a better plan if she just thought about it for a while.

“Well?” Bess whispered, when Nancy slipped back into the seat beside her. “Did he do anything suspicious?”

The rehearsal was still going on, and Dmitri was back in his usual place—front row center, his eyes on Sasha and Marina.

Nancy nodded. “I'll tell you later.”

“Okay.” Bess rolled her eyes. “It's been crazy here,” she said. “Yves threw another fit
about his sheet music. I'm really glad I didn't let myself get serious about him.” She sighed, and then clapped a hand over her stomach. “I'm absolutely starving. Why don't I go out and get us something to eat?”

As if in answer, Dana Harding suddenly called out, “Okay, lunch, everybody!” Looking at her watch, she added, “We'll start again at one-thirty. Don't stuff; I want you light on your feet when you get back!”

It was twelve-fifteen. Nancy suddenly had an idea. “Let's take Sasha and Marina and Dmitri to the beach for lunch,” she said to Bess. “There won't be time to swim, but it'll be a nice break for them from this place. Besides, I still owe Sasha a hot dog.”

“I'm tired of hot dogs,” Bess remarked.

“Then you can get some fries,” Nancy told her, laughing. “Besides, eating isn't the main reason we're going.”

“It's not?”

“I'll explain everything to you on the way there,” Nancy said. “Come on, let's ask them before Dmitri starts passing out the sandwiches he brought back.”

Fifteen minutes later, using two cars, the five of them arrived at the beach. Dmitri hadn't been eager to go, but Sasha talked him into it. Nancy could tell that Sasha was hoping to spend the entire time with her, but if Bess did her part, he was only going to get five minutes.

“Mustard? Sauerkraut?” Nancy asked Sasha
after she'd bought two hot dogs. Bess, Dmitri, and Marina had decided to eat Dmitri's sandwiches.

“The—what do you say?—the works,” Sasha told her.

“Relish, too?”

“Of course, relish,” he said. “The more stuff, the better.” He grinned. “It hides the taste of the frankfurter!”

Laughing, Nancy told the boy behind the counter, and soon Sasha was taking an enormous bite of an overloaded hot dog.

“I hope it doesn't give you indigestion,” Nancy said, as they slipped off their shoes and stepped onto the warm sand. “Dana Harding would kill me.”

“I can eat anything,” he told her, patting his stomach. “This idea of yours was great, coming to the beach,” he added. “Look, I think even Marina is glad to be away from rehearsal.”

Nancy looked over to where Bess, Dmitri, and Marina were sitting behind a dune, out of the wind. The ballerina was laughing, and even Dmitri was smiling. Bess must have said something funny. Nancy was glad to see that Dmitri had taken off his windbreaker. It was weighted down with his shoes.

Come on, Bess, she said silently. We don't have much time.

As if she'd heard, Bess stood up, casually dusting the sand off her shorts. Still laughing,
she glanced far off down the beach. Suddenly she froze. Then she started shrieking, jumping up and down, and waving wildly.

Marina and Dmitri were standing now, too, cupping their hands around their eyes and looking to where Bess was excitedly pointing. She was still shouting, and finally the word
shark
drifted back on the wind.

“Shark!” Sasha cried. “This is something I must see!”

Nancy took his half-eaten hot dog. “Go on,” she told him. “I'm not too crazy about sharks, so I think I'll just stay here and eat.”

Like a shot, Sasha was off and running, joining the other three as they dashed along the sand.

Nancy grinned to herself. Trust Bess to come up with the most dramatic distraction she could think of. She hoped there was
something
in the water, or Bess would have some fast explaining to do. In the meantime Nancy had to hurry.

She raced over to the dune, put the hot dogs down on a sandwich wrapper, and reached into the pocket of Dmitri's windbreaker. Her fingers closed over a piece of paper, and after glancing around to make sure they were still far away, she pulled the paper out.

In her hand was a program for the next night's dance performance.

Nancy's shoulders slumped. She'd been so sure! Now she felt ridiculous. She should have
known Bill Fairgate wouldn't hand over industrial secrets in the middle of a sandwich shop, right under the eyes of Eileen Martin.

Eileen was in charge of the programs. She must have given it to Dmitri when she ran into him at the shop. All perfectly innocent, Nancy thought in disappointment.

“Nancy?”

It was Sasha's voice. Quickly she slid the program back into the jacket pocket and stood up.

“There you are!” he called, running up to her. “It wasn't a shark at all. It was just an old, black air mattress, all torn up. Not by a shark, I hope,” he joked.

Nancy smiled and glanced beyond him. The other three were coming back, Bess's arms waving wildly as she talked.

“Nancy,” Sasha said. “I can see that you have something on your mind. It's the Jetstream case, am I right?” Without waiting for her answer, he went on, “You said you didn't want my help. But, Nancy, I have had many thoughts about it. I truly believe I have discovered—”

“Sasha, please,” Nancy interrupted. “It's really better if you stay out of it.” She wanted to tell him about Dmitri, but how could she? She wasn't even sure she could trust Sasha. “It's true, I've been thinking about the case. But I can't tell you anything. I wish I could, but I can't. Please, stay out of it.”

Sasha put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes for a long moment. “I won't trouble you with my theories,” he said. “But Nancy, promise me one thing.”

“What?”

Sasha's blue eyes were serious, his handsome face was full of concern. “Promise me that you will be very careful,” he said.

He'd said the same thing, the night before, in the parking lot. Now, why does he keep saying that to me? Nancy wondered. She gazed at Sasha as he picked up his hot dog. Is he just concerned for me? Or does he know something specific?

Just then Bess, Dmitri, and Marina got back and retrieved their sandwiches.

“Bess, I think you must have a remarkable imagination,” Marina was saying. “I do not think an air mattress looks anything like a shark.” She laughed, her dark eyes sparkling with humor. “It must be fun to be you,” she teased.

To Nancy's surprise, Dmitri let out a deep chuckle. “Marina, I do not believe your life can be so bad,” he admonished, but he sounded as if he were joking.

Nancy had never seen either of them in so lighthearted a mood. Was it because Dmitri had just mailed the final installment of the Jetstar plans to Aviane? Was Marina in on it, too?

Oh, boy, Nancy realized, I'm really going off
the deep end today. Everyone looks suspicious. Come on, Drew, stick to the facts!

Jumping up, she turned to the others. “Put those sandwiches down,” she ordered them. “It's time for a swim. Last one in's a rotten egg.”

Nancy raced for the surf, Sasha by her side. She could hear Dmitri huffing along behind her and Bess and Marina giggling.

Nancy decided she should take a break from thinking for a while. Right then, the most important thing to do was to have some fun!

• • •

“I can't figure out if Sasha's one of the nicest, most sincere guys I've ever met,” Nancy said, “or if he just acts as well as he dances.”

She and Bess were back at Eloise's house, fixing dinner. The dancers had taken an early break for dinner and were planning to rehearse late into the night, so Nancy and Bess had decided to leave. George still wasn't back, and Eloise was taking a shower.

“It's awful,” Nancy went on, tearing up lettuce for a salad. “I've never had so much trouble figuring somebody out.”

“I don't see how you can really believe Sasha is involved,” Bess said. She brushed some chicken pieces with soy sauce. “He hasn't done anything strange except ask you about the case. I don't think he'd risk his career over something like this. Besides, he's just too nice.”

Nancy smiled. “Plenty of ‘nice' people commit crimes, Bess.” She measured oil and vinegar into a bottle and shook it hard. “Anyway, even if he's not involved, I can't tell him anything. He might let something slip to Dmitri.”

Nancy sighed and stared out the window toward the ocean. “But every time he looks at me with those blue eyes, I want to tell him everything.”

Bess glanced at her. “As I said, you're attracted to him.”

Reluctantly, Nancy nodded, her eyes still on the ocean. “I hate to admit it, but it's true,” she said slowly. “I don't want to believe he's involved in the Jetstream leak either, Bess. But I have to keep telling myself he could be. I can't let the way I feel wreck my investigation.”

Bess covered the plate of chicken with waxed paper and walked over to Nancy. “You're worried about Ned, too, aren't you?”

Nancy nodded again. “It's not that I think anything would ever happen between me and Sasha,” she said. “I mean, Ned and I have something totally special. I've never really looked twice at any other guy—until now.”

Bess started to say something, but the phone interrupted her. She reached for it, said hello, and then held it out to Nancy.

“Talk about timing,” she whispered. “It's for you, Nancy. It's Ned.”

S
MILING SYMPATHETICALLY
, Bess left the kitchen. Nancy's cheeks were hot, and she stared at the receiver for a second, feeling guilty. Finally she cleared her throat and held the phone to her ear.