Cutting Edge (12 page)

“I can explain,” Kevin insisted as he wiped away the traces of red lipstick on his mouth.

George crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

“Oh?” she said icily.

“Well,” Kevin began. “You see, we were waiting for the cameraman, and I was using the opportunity to learn more about Veronica, so the interview would go better. I learned quite a lot, actually.”

“I'll bet you did,” George said huffily.

“Then she started to flirt with me—right out of nowhere. And that's when you showed up.”

“Yeah, right,” George said sarcastically. “Wasn't that friendly of her!”

“Come on, George, you've got to believe me,” Kevin insisted.

“I do?” George said.

“I have no idea why she kissed me. I certainly didn't do anything to encourage her.”

George faced him squarely. “Kevin Davis,” she began. “If you mean to tell me that you were just standing there, and all of a sudden Veronica Taylor started kissing you—well, you must think I'm totally dumb, which I am not!” With that, George stormed away.

Kevin watched her leave, then turned to Nancy. “I know it sounds farfetched and ridiculous, Nancy, but that's really what happened.”

“Why would Veronica do something like that, Kevin?” she asked.

“I, uh, guess she just finds me very attractive or something,” he said, running his hand nervously through his hair.

“On the other hand, she might just be looking for some extra publicity,” Nancy suggested.

“Maybe,” he agreed. Then he blew out a big breath. “But who cares about Veronica? It's George I'm crazy about!”

“You'd better go after her then,” Nancy suggested.

“I know what I'll do,” Kevin said, his face brightening. “I'll ask her to dinner at the Ridgefield Hotel. A lot of skaters are staying there. I heard the restaurant has great food and live music after ten.”

Nancy grinned at him. “Sounds good to me,” she said. As he took off, she called after him, “Good luck!”

• • •

“I feel dumb being here,” Nancy protested as she and George walked into the Ridgefield Hotel dining room. “Why don't you have dinner alone with Kevin?”

“Absolutely not,” George insisted. “I told him the only way I'd meet him was if you came, too. I said that from now on, he and I were just friends—and since we're all friends, we can all eat together.”

Nancy sighed and rolled her blue eyes.

“I have my pride, you know,” George continued. “If he expects me to believe that he had nothing to do with that kiss, he can forget it.”

“I believe he was telling the truth, George,” Nancy said gently. She took in the decor of the charming room, with its dark green table linens and small brass wall lamps.

“Oh, well,” George said with a sigh. “I don't want to talk about it anymore today. I'll think about it tomorrow, when I'm calm and rational.”

“There he is,” Nancy said, pointing at a table where Kevin was sitting alone.

The second he laid eyes on George, he stood up and waved. “Over here,” he called softly, so as not to disturb the other diners.

“You know, I wish Kevin weren't
quite
so good-looking,” George said on their way over to join him. “Not that I'm going to let him get away with this. But it's hard to just unlike someone you were crazy about only a few hours ago.”

“Hi,” Kevin said, concentrating on George, who let him pull out her chair before she sat down.

“This place is very nice,” she said, but Nancy noticed the lack of enthusiasm in her voice.

“They have excellent food,” Kevin said, settling into his own chair. “The seafood is fantastic.”

After they consulted their menus and ordered, there was a lull in the conversation. Kevin didn't know what to say, and George was being purposely quiet.

“How have your interviews been going, Kevin?” Nancy asked to fill in the void. Instantly she wished she'd asked a different question. The
memory of his interview with Veronica Taylor was all too fresh in everyone's mind.

Kevin didn't flinch, though. He seemed glad to have something—anything—to talk about. “Some of the girls have been a little tense because of all the weird stuff going on,” he said. “Most of them are pretty angry at Trish, but they don't want to come right out and say it. But it changes the atmosphere when there's someone around whom nobody trusts.”

“Do you feel that Trish is causing all the trouble?” Nancy asked him.

Kevin looked surprised. “Don't you? Doesn't everybody? Even the police are focusing on her, from what I hear from my producers.”

“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!

H
ER 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 lightly. 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.”