Cutting Edge (13 page)

She quickly pulled out the paper inside and unfolded it. “Hmm,” she said, reading it over and then handing it to George.

“ ‘Sponsorship Arrangements,' ” George read out loud in a puzzled voice. “ ‘The party of the first part agrees, upon receipt of certain items, to procure an arrangement for sponsorship with the party of the second part. This shall include reimbursement for any expenses occurred during procurement, allowing for total confidentiality of certain other actions on the part of the sponsor on behalf of the bearer.' ”

George looked up from the letter, totally perplexed. “What in the world does it mean?”

“Either a lawyer wrote that, or else it's deliberately complicated so if anyone found it they wouldn't understand what it was about,” Nancy said.

George's eyes lit up. “Nan, remember Kevin said Veronica needed a new sponsor?”

“Yes. I remember,” Nancy said, her eyes narrowing. “On the other hand, that's Veronica's book on the table by the near bed. It looks as if it's under
Trish's
pillow.”

Biting her lip, George tilted her head and thought about it. “How do we find out?” she asked.

“Well, for now, I think we put this back right where we found it,” Nancy said, carefully replacing
the letter inside the envelope and slipping it under the pillow.

“I'll check the closet for clues,” George said, walking through the open door and disappearing.

“George?” Nancy called from the window, where she was searching behind the open drapes. “Find anything?”

George stepped out of the closet, appearing to be shocked. In her hands was a pastel-pink gift-wrapped box with a shimmery pearl ribbon. “I don't know whether to kill someone or cry!” George said, holding the gift up for Nancy to see. “Can you believe this?”

George's chin was trembling as she handed the gift to Nancy. Her wide brown eyes had filled with tears.

Nancy took the gift. There, on the little tag taped to the top, she read, “‘To Veronica, From K.D.'”

“K.D.!” George spat out. “Kevin Davis! That miserable, low-life, two-timing liar! Do you know he practically had me convinced that she forced that kiss on him?”

Nancy stared at the gaily wrapped box. Poor George. Nancy knew that if she ever found a gift to another girl marked with Ned Nickerson's initials, she'd feel very upset, too. “You'd better put this back where you found it, George,” Nancy said.

George stared at the gift and back at Nancy, her eyes burning with curiosity. “Aren't we going
to open it? I'm dying to know what that creep bought for his new girlfriend. I wonder if it's perfume. Maybe it's the same kind he gave me! I wouldn't put it past him.”

“I think we should leave it alone, George,” Nancy advised. “Where exactly did you find it?”

Still fuming, George waved the box in the air. “In the closet.”

Before George could return the box, the door to the room swung open and Trish O'Connell walked in.

The skater looked from Nancy to George in confusion. “What's going on? Why are you in my room?”

George quickly put the wrapped box on the dresser. “Well, Trish, you see, w-we—” she stammered.

Slamming the door behind her, Trish marched over to the nearest bed and sat down. She raised her eyes and accused Nancy. “You're investigating me, aren't you! You think I've done all those awful things everyone else has decided I did, and you're in here snooping for proof!”

“That's not true, Trish,” Nancy said. “The truth is, George and I
don't
believe that you did all those things. We think you're being set up. But here's the thing—we don't know by whom, and we don't know why. That's what we want to find out. And you've got to help us.”

Nancy went over to the far bed and fished out the envelope she'd discovered. Holding it up for Trish to see, she said, “Let's start with this letter, Trish. Who's it from and what's it all about? It's time to lay all your cards on the table.
All
of them.”

L
AY
MY
CARDS
on the table? What cards?” Trish said wearily, slumping back against the pillow and squeezing her eyes shut. “This week has been one long nightmare,” she said. “I feel like giving up. Maybe I should just confess to everything. I know that would make a lot of people happy.”

“No one would be happy about it, Trish,” George said softly from where she stood near the bureau. “But if you were responsible for what happened—”

Trish shook her head and reached for a tissue from the box on the night table. “I'm not responsible,
George,” she said, dabbing her eyes. “I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself.”

“Which is perfectly understandable,” Nancy said gently. “But not very useful.”

Trish straightened herself up and faced Nancy. “What's that letter you were showing me before?” she asked.

Nancy handed Trish the letter. Taking it in her slender hands, she read it and was very puzzled. “What is this? Some sort of sponsorship agreement?” she asked.

“You don't know anything about it?” Nancy asked, confused.

“Not a thing,” Trish said, her face a blank. “Besides, you just pulled it out from under Ronnie's pillow.”

Nancy raised her eyebrows. “That's funny,” she said. “When we walked in and saw Veronica's book on your bed, we thought the letter must have been left for you.”

“Oh, no,” Trish said, managing a little smile. “This is my bed. Ronnie lent me her book the other day.”

“So that letter
was
left under Veronica's pillow,” Nancy said.

“I
knew
there was a reason I couldn't stand her,” George muttered under her breath.

“Trish,” Nancy said, “I think I know who's behind all the trouble. I also think that deep down you know who it is, too.”

The skater's eyes filled with tears, and she bit her lip.

George let out a little, involuntary gasp. “Are you saying—”

Nancy met her friend's eyes squarely. “Let's go over everything. Someone put a paper clip on the ice, and Veronica fell.”

“That could have been a total accident, Nancy,” George cautioned.

“Possibly,” Nancy agreed.

“The ASF is pretty careful about how the ice is maintained, George,” Trish said, drawing her knees up and hugging them.

“Okay, let's go on,” Nancy said. “Next, there was that threatening note that Veronica found in her sweater pocket.”

Trish leaned forward with a little shiver. “Ronnie showed me that note. It was creepy. Doesn't it prove that someone was after her, too?”

Nancy shook her head. “Anyone can write a note in block letters—even the person the note's addressed to.”

“But, Nancy,” Trish insisted, “Veronica would never do something like that—just like I wouldn't.”

“Maybe not,” Nancy said noncommittally. “Then there were Elaine's skates, the ones that were found in your locker. Trish, when you got your locker combination, did you write it down?”

“I had to,” Trish said. “Until I memorized it.”

“And where did you keep the paper it was written on?” Nancy asked.

“In my wallet,” Trish answered. “But I never left my wallet around for anyone to see. It was either on me or right here in the room.”

“Right here in the room,” George repeated, picking up on Nancy's thoughts. “Where Veronica could find it.”

Nancy nodded. “How about your blue costume? Was that ever here in the room?” she probed.

Trish's face had grown pale. “Well, yes. Of course. This is where I kept it,” she answered weakly.

“So Veronica had the opportunity to pluck a few sequins off the costume, to use as clues against you,” Nancy pointed out.

“What you're saying is too awful, Nancy,” Trish cried. “I hate hearing all this! Veronica's a good friend of mine! She wouldn't hurt me.”

“Desperate people do desperate things, Trish,” George said sadly. “You might have been the easiest person to pin the crimes on. You were close to her, so she had lots of chances to set you up.”

Trish shut her eyes and shook her head.

“One last thing, Trish,” Nancy went on gently. “Yoko had her blade screws filed down, and the file was found in your purse. Was that purse up here in the room, too?”

Trish hesitated and then nodded. “But I still can't believe what you're saying. You're trying to frame Ronnie, the same way someone tried to frame me!”

“Trish, I know this is hard on you, but let's stay with it a minute,” Nancy told the skater. “The Opto circuit board. Your dad told us that you knew where it was. Did you tell anyone else where it was located?”

Trish stared at Nancy. Then she covered her face in both hands and nodded her head. “I—I told my—my closest friend,” she finally stammered.

“Veronica,” Nancy said quietly.

The room was silent as Nancy, George, and Trish digested this last piece of information. Then Trish uncovered her face and went on, “My father told me not to tell anyone, and I wasn't going to,” she said, gulping back tears. “Ronnie kept teasing me about making such a big deal about where some stupid computer chips were, and I thought I could trust her. Then, when the board was taken, I didn't say anything because Ronnie insisted that she didn't have anything to do with it. She told me she thought computers were boring.”

Tears streamed down Trish's cheeks. “Oh, I—I just can't believe it!” she whispered. “It
has
to be her, doesn't it? I mean, otherwise, it's
me,
right?”

Nancy nodded gravely. “I'm pretty sure the man who stole the Opto chips left this note for someone in this room,” she said.

Trish stared blankly down into her lap. “Oh, poor Yoko!” she whispered.

“No wonder Veronica was so relieved when
she got back from the hospital,” George said. “She probably didn't mean for Yoko to get hurt.”

“There's another problem,” Nancy said. “A big one. We have to prove all this.” She began pacing. “Everything I just said may sound good, but without proof, it's meaningless.”

A breezy voice at the door interrupted them. “Hi, everybody!” said Veronica Taylor, sweeping into the room with a broad smile. “What's going on? Are we having a party?”

Nancy quickly put a finger to her lips to warn Trish not to say anything. “We just stopped by to say hello,” Nancy said brightly. “But we're leaving now.”

“I want to get to bed early,” Trish said. “Big day tomorrow.”

“By the way, you got a present,” George told Veronica, pointing to the gift-wrapped box that she had set down on a bureau.

“I did?” Veronica said, surprised.

“Veronica, would you mind opening it while we're still here?” Nancy asked. “It looks so pretty, the way it's wrapped—and we'd love to know what it is.”

Veronica quickly read the tag. “ ‘From K.D.' ” She gave a nervous little giggle. Nancy could see George's jaw tighten, but George didn't say anything.

“I know Kevin would be embarrassed about it,” Veronica said, her eyes darting nervously around the room. “He'd probably even deny it if you asked him.”

“Open it,” Nancy urged, handing her the gift.

“Oh, no,” Veronica said, giggling nervously again. “I wouldn't want to rub it in,” she added, flashing George a wicked look.

“I don't want to see it, anyway,” George said stonily as she stared firmly down at the floor.

“But
I
do,” Nancy insisted. “Please, Veronica. For
me.
After all, when you wanted me to come to the compulsories, I came, didn't I?”

“Oh, well,” Veronica whispered. “If you insist.” Slowly she untied the pink ribbon, then lifted the tape and removed the wrapping paper.

Opening a small white box inside, she pulled out a sparkling red and black belt made from beads and sequins.

“That's beautiful,” George said. “Kevin certainly has good taste.”

Veronica held the sequined belt to her slender waist and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “The best,” she agreed with a wicked smile. “The absolute best.”