Cutting Edge (10 page)

“Hi,” Liz murmured listlessly. She propped her elbow on the control panel and rested her chin in her palm.

“Liz is the sound engineer,” Mike explained.

“For today, anyway,” Liz said. “Tomorrow I'll probably be fired. Hold on, guys. Ann Lasser is up. I've got to put her tape on.”

Out on the ice, Ann Lasser, wearing a red-and-yellow outfit, skated out of the holding area. Liz put her hand on the control of a large reel-to-reel tape recorder in front of her and waited for the skater to get into position. “Here we go,” Liz murmured, setting the tape in motion. “Let's hope this is the right music.”

Fortunately, it was. Bright circus music soon filled the arena as the skater began her routine.

“Come on, Liz,” Mike urged after a few moments. “You're being too hard on yourself.”

“Mike, how would you feel if you messed up in a major way?” Liz countered. “I'm the head engineer! I'm supposed to be on top of things like that.”

“But you didn't mess up,” Mike protested.
“You
didn't change that tape!”

“Any idea how it happened?” Nancy asked.

Liz shook her head wearily. “Beats me. I had Elaine's tape all week. Her mother brought it up to me the day before the competition began. I ran a test on it that day, and it played just fine.”

“Where do you keep the tapes?” George asked.

“Right here,” Liz said, pointing to an open box on a counter beside her that held dozens of tapes. “That's where all the skaters' tapes are.”

“Did anyone else have access to this room?” Nancy asked.

Liz nodded sadly. “This place was like Grand Central Station all week. Right, Mike? I mean with all the concern about the Optoboard, no one dreamed there'd be any problem with something like an audiotape.”

“So anyone could have come in here and changed the tape?” George asked.

“That's right,” Liz said, shaking her head. “I was in and out a lot and I never even thought of locking the door. I was too busy running around getting tapes from the trainers and running sound checks. Next time, I'm sealing this door like a mummy's tomb. Live and learn.”

“Oh, no! Ann missed her triple Salchow,” said
George, who was keeping one eye on the action on the ice.

The muscular skater pushed on, completing her routine, but when her scores were announced, they were low in both technique and artistry.

“Too bad,” George said sympathetically. “But her routine wasn't very original. And missing that triple really hurt her.”

Between skaters, Nancy and George said a quick goodbye to Mike and Liz. Then they hurried back to watch the rest of the program. Most impressive were Veronica Taylor and Trish O'Connell, who both wowed the crowd with their originality and inspired skating.

“Veronica really helped herself with that routine,” Nancy remarked after she came off the ice. “With a good long program, she'll probably finish in the top four after all. Amazing, considering how badly she did in the compulsories.”

“Amazing,” George agreed. “She certainly recovered from that fall and the threatening letter pretty quickly.” Frowning, she added, “Or maybe she just wants to show off for Kevin.”

“Come on now, George,” Nancy warned. “Don't let your feelings get the better of your good judgment.”

“Anyway, she'll never catch up with Trish,” George said. “That's a comforting thought. Trish is so brave, don't you think, Nan? Even with all the pressure on her, she's holding up like a true champion.”

“You sound pretty sure she's not behind all the sabotage,” Nancy observed, putting an arm around her friend's shoulders.

“Aren't you?” George asked.

Nancy shrugged. “I'm not sure what I'm sure of,” she admitted. “I'll tell you what I'd like to do, though. I'd like to get down to the locker room before the skaters get out of their costumes. That way, we can check to see who might be missing a few sequins.”

“Good idea,” George agreed.

As Nancy and George approached the locker room, Nancy heard angry shouting coming from inside.

“What can be happening?” George asked, as Nancy pushed the door open.

Inside, Elaine Devery's mother was shouting at Trish O'Connell, who stood frozen at her locker, taking the angry words in. Nancy noticed that Trish's costume was a lovely shade of peach. It was decorated with many sequins, but none of them was blue. On the bench near her was an open tote bag.

“I don't know why you're being permitted to skate in this contest,” Elaine's mother was saying. “It's an outrage!”

“Mom, this isn't helping,” Elaine complained, gently leading her mother a few feet away and trying to calm her down.

Veronica was standing at a nearby locker hanging up a scarlet costume. “Don't let her get to you, Trish,” Veronica advised.

Trish turned back and saw Nancy. “Hi,” Trish greeted Nancy and George, a slight tremor in her voice.

“Trish, you were awe inspiring out there,” Nancy said.

“Truly great,” George agreed.

“Thanks,” Trish said, trying to smile. It was clear from the expression on her face that Mrs. Devery's anger had dimmed her happiness about her performance.

“See?” George whispered to Nancy. “She's wearing peach.”

“Are you talking to me?” Trish asked, punching in the digits of her locker combination.

“I was just saying how much I love your costume. The color is great,” George replied.

“Thanks,” Trish said, pulling the door open. She reached in and pulled out another costume. Nancy did a double take. The costume was festooned with hundreds of sequins—all blue, and all a perfect match for the ones Nancy had found during the blackout.

“This is what I'm wearing for my long program. Do you like it?” Trish asked, holding it up for their inspection. “I'm skating to
Rhapsody in Blue.”

“It's lovely,” Nancy said, reaching out and touching it gently.

“It's missing a few sequins,” Trish pointed out. “I remember you found some in the hall, but they couldn't be from my outfit. It's been wrapped up until now. And besides, I wouldn't
have any reason to wear it up on the press level.”

Shrugging, Trish put her costume back inside the locker. Then she reached down and took a bottle of shampoo from the tote bag in front of her.

Across from them Mrs. Devery shook off her daughter's arm. “I just want to know why,” she said, stepping closer to Trish. “Why did you steal Elaine's skates and ruin her tape? Are you really
that
jealous? Are you so afraid that Elaine will win?”

Mrs. Devery's face was flushed as she stepped even closer to the cowering Trish. “You even tried to kill Yoko Hamara. You're a sick person, Trish O'Connell! Sick and evil!”

“That's enough!” Veronica shouted, stepping in front of Elaine's mother. “Leave her alone!”

Sobbing, Trish slumped onto the bench, knocking against her tote bag as she did. The bag crashed to the floor, and the contents spilled out.

Nancy reached down to help pick things up. As she did, she spotted something that made her gasp. There, on the floor, was a small metal file. Nancy had a strong suspicion that she was looking at the tool that had been used to file the screws on Yoko Hamara's skate blades!

W
HAT'S THAT
?” Trish asked, staring at the file in Nancy's hand.

“Who cares? I'm getting out of here,” Mrs. Devery muttered. She pushed past Nancy and George, calling over her shoulder, “Elaine, meet me upstairs when you're ready.”

“Trish, this is your tote bag, isn't it?” Nancy asked, indicating the carrier.

“Yes, but that's not my file. I have no idea how that got in my bag,” she said. “I certainly didn't put it there.”

Veronica and Elaine leaned over and took a look. “Is that a nail file?” Veronica asked.

Elaine flushed bright red. “I know what that
is,” she said. “It's what you file metal with. I happened to overhear Ms. Soren telling a police officer about some filed-down screws that were found on the ice right after Yoko's accident. You filed those screws down so they'd come loose, didn't you, Trish?”

Veronica stood up. “Listen, Elaine, I've known Trish for a long time,” she said. “She'd never hurt anyone.”

“Oh, get off it,” Elaine scoffed, turning to Veronica. “You're just falling for her poor-little-me act. You're sticking up for her because she's like a sister to you. Well, she's no sister to me!”

Nancy studied each skater in turn. “We have to show this file to someone from the federation right now,” she said.

“They'll throw me out of the competition for sure!” Trish moaned hopelessly.

“Which is the least she deserves,” Ann Lasser whispered to Suzanne Jurgens, in a voice loud enough to be heard by them all. “They ought to throw her in jail!”

Tears welled up in Trish's eyes as she turned to the other skaters. “Since you're all so sure that I'm guilty, maybe I'll just quit.”

“Fine with me,” Elaine muttered.

“No, Trish,” Nancy announced. “You're not quitting yet. Let's talk to Kathy Soren and see if she can tell you how to handle this.”

Nancy walked over to the locker-room door and held it open. Hanging her head, Trish walked through.

Wordlessly, Nancy, George, and Trish made their way up the ramp to where the federation officials sat. Kathy Soren was putting on her jacket. Nancy guessed that she was getting ready to go to lunch.

“Ms. Soren, we found something else you should be aware of,” Nancy said, handing her the metal file.

The former champion's face went white. “Where was it?” she asked.

Before Nancy could tell her, Trish stepped forward. “It was in my gym bag,” she said. “But I didn't put it there. I swear I didn't.”

Just then Mr. O'Connell stepped up to the group. “Hello there, everyone,” he said. “Nancy, I need to talk with you—” He stopped when he saw their grim expressions. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, Dad, I'm in really big trouble,” Trish said in a whisper.

Mr. O'Connell was perplexed. He stroked his daughter's hair and glanced over at Ms. Soren. “What's this about?” he asked.

“Someone deliberately filed down the screws on Yoko Hamara's skates,” she told him. “And a metal file was found in Trish's purse.”

Gulping hard, Trish eyed the official and said, “I'm beginning to think I should drop out of the competition.”

“Wait a minute, Trish,” Nancy said cautiously. “If you haven't done anything wrong, there's no reason for you to do something so drastic.”

“Nancy's right, Trish,” George agreed. “Just because some people think you're guilty doesn't mean you have to drop out.”

“Dropping out would be like admitting you're guilty,” Mr. O'Connell insisted. “I can't let you do that, when I know you'd never do anything to harm anyone else.”

Trish bit her lip and reconsidered. “I guess you're right,” she finally agreed.

“Don't drop out, Trish,” Veronica urged. “You've worked so hard to make it here. Besides, you're in first place now.”

Trish let out a sigh. “But how can I continue? The federation won't want me in the contest if they think I'm hurting other skaters.”

“That's true,” Ms. Soren said, “but it's also possible that someone else is behind all this. I'll need to confer with Mr. Fleischman and some of the other ASF officials before we make any hard decisions about whether you should continue, but for now, you're still in.”

“Okay,” Trish said quietly.

Ms. Soren shook her head sadly. “I'm also going to tell the police about this right away.”

“Oh, no!” Trish murmured. “I'm not going to be arrested, am I?”

Trish was interrupted by Ms. Soren's assistant, the woman with oversized glasses who had given out the passes the day before the competition began. “Excuse me, Kathy, but I know you'll want to hear this right away,” she said. “I finally
got through to the hospital. Yoko is conscious, and the doctors say she's going to be okay.”

“Thank goodness,” Ms. Soren said with a relieved sigh.

“Well, there's some good news for a change,” Mr. O'Connell added.

“Will you all please excuse me?” Ms. Soren said. “I've got to make some calls.” Holding on to the file, she left.

“I think I want to go back to the hotel,” Trish said listlessly.

“I'll go with you,” her father said. “We can get some lunch.”

“I'm not hungry, Dad,” Trish told him. “And I'd really like to be alone for a while.”

“Want me to drive you?” he asked. But before she answered, he posed another question. “Why don't you take the car? I'll have lunch here at the arena,” he said, fishing his keys from a pocket and handing them to her. “Drive carefully, honey.”