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Carolyn Keene
Nancy Drew Mystery Stories: Volume One Hundred-Eighteen
Trouble At Lake Tahoe
Copyright, 1994, by Simon & Schuster
Nancy's old friend Katie Cobb is favored to win the Far West Regional Water-skiing Championship, held at beautiful Lake Tahoe. But someone is determined to knock Katie off her skis and out of the race, and as Nancy investigates, she could be taking a free-fall herself.
Fun in the Sun
“Unbelievable!” George Fayne exclaimed, turning to her friend Nancy Drew. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”
Nancy smiled and held up a hand to shield her blue eyes from the piercing sun. She followed her friend’s gaze to the sparkling blue-green lake in front of them.
The endless clear water was met suddenly at its far edge by the towering Sierra Nevada mountains. Although it was late June, the evergreen-covered peaks were still capped by patches of white snow.
“No,” Nancy said, dropping her hand and looking at George. “I don’t think I have seen anything quite like Lake Tahoe.”
“Everything is so clear,” Bess Marvin added, rubbing some warmth into her bare arms. Though the sun shone brightly overhead, at that altitude the morning air was still cool.
Before Nancy or George could reply, they were interrupted by a cheerful voice behind them. “Well, is it everything you imagined?” Nancy turned to the tall, lean young woman who approached them.
The young woman’s brown hair, streaked blond by the sun, was pulled back in a ponytail, and her freckled face had a big smile on it. “I think seeing Lake Tahoe for the first time is like seeing one of the Seven Wonders of the World,” the young woman said, casually throwing an arm around Nancy’s shoulders.
“It is wonderful,” Nancy agreed. “But, Katie, why aren’t you taking a practice run?”
“Yeah,” George chimed in, motioning toward the speedboats that dotted the lakeshore. “Most of the other water-skiers are out, practicing for the tournament.”
Katie Cobb smiled. An old friend of Nancy’s, she had moved from their hometown, River Heights, to Mission Bay, California, a few years before. Since then she had become one of the top water-skiers in the country. This week she was competing in a women’s tournament at Lake Tahoe and had invited Nancy, Bess, and George to spend a few days with her at the mountain retreat.
The girls had flown into nearby Reno, Nevada, the previous night, then had driven to Incline Village, where they were renting a cabin. This morning they were having their first glimpse of Lake Tahoe and Sand Harbor, the beach where the three-day tournament would be held.
Katie smiled at George. “I took my practice run half an hour ago,” she said.
“But your hair isn’t wet,” Bess pointed out.
“That shows I had a good practice run.” Katie grinned. “I didn’t fall—unlike those girls.” She gestured toward the lake.
Nancy laughed as she took in the two skiers, who were peeling off their black, rubbery wetsuits and wringing out their hair.
The tournament was scheduled to begin in about an hour, and spectators were trickling down to the beach from the parking lot. Above the sounds of water lapping against the shore and speed-boats taking off, Nancy could hear people calling to one another.
The beach had been set up as a temporary boat launch area. Coarse sand, about fifty yards wide, stretched along the curving edge of the lake. A long wooden dock jutted out into the water from the middle of the beach. Just past the dock an asphalt drive ran down from the parking lot to the water’s edge. Nancy watched as a car backed its trailer and boat into the water for launching.
At the opposite end of the beach a tent had been set up. A large banner over it read: Far West Regional Waterskiing Championship. Nearby, a wooden lifeguard tower was to be used as a judges’ stand.
People were scattered about the beach, some clustered around the tent and some beside the shore. Others were carefully selecting just the right spot on the beach to watch the tournament and enjoy the sun.
Nancy brushed a strand of reddish blond hair back from her face. “Do you expect a big crowd?” she asked Katie, without turning.
Katie shrugged. “Not too big,” she said. “It’s still early in the season, and this is only a regional championship. Waterskiing tournaments are generally pretty casual. There will be some sports reporters around, mostly from local papers. I did hear that the ASC—the All-Sports Channel—sent a camera crew to get some footage.”
Bess, who had been arranging her towel on the sand, hopped up suddenly. “You mean you’ll be on TV?” she asked excitedly.
Katie’s ever-ready grin stretched across her tanned face. “Maybe—if I ski well,” she said. “But I’m just hoping to make a good showing here. It’s my first time in the overall competition.”
“Overall?” Bess asked.
“There are three events in tournament skiing,” Katie explained, “slalom, trick, and jump. A skier can compete in as many of the events as she wants to. I used to compete only in slalom.”
“That’s where you put both feet on one ski and weave around a series of buoys,” George explained to Bess.
Katie nodded. “Right. In the trick competition you perform a routine with lots of fancy moves. And in the jump event you ski up a ramp and see how far you can fly through the air before you hit water again.”
Bess shuddered. “Sounds dangerous to me!” George laughed at Bess’s reaction. Although the two eighteen-year-old girls were cousins, dark-haired George was an athlete and loved all sports, while blond, blue-eyed Bess preferred less demanding activities, such as shopping.
“It is dangerous, until you learn how to do it right,” Katie agreed. “But I’ve been working hard on my jumping and my trick routine, and now I feel ready to compete in all three events. I think about a dozen of us are competing for the overall title.”
“How is the winner chosen?” Nancy asked as they sat down on their towels.
“We start out with a field of sixteen in each event,” Katie explained. “Each event is scored differently, but by tomorrow the field will be cut in half, which leaves only eight competitors in each event. On the third day—the final day of the tournament—it will be cut to four people in each. The winner of the overall title has the best average score in all three events.”
“And that’ll be you,” Bess said, bobbing her head confidently. “I just know it.”
“I hope you’re right.” Katie paused, taking a deep breath. “But it won’t be easy.” She pointed to a girl unzipping her water-ski bag by the shore. Her blond hair was pulled back in a tight French braid. “That’s Pam Cartwright. She’s going for the overall title, too. And she’s done really well in the past couple of tournaments.”
“She looks pretty young,” Nancy noted.
Katie grimaced. “I know,” she said. “She’s only seventeen—the youngest skier in the tournament. And she only gets better and better.” Then Katie’s face brightened suddenly. She stood up and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Jackie!” she called, standing up.
Nancy saw a short, dark-haired young woman near the shore turn her head toward them. She smiled and waved, then began to walk over.
She was wearing a white windbreaker over a striped swimsuit. Noticing her muscular legs, Nancy knew she had to be a water-skier.
“All set?” the young woman said to Katie as she reached the group.
“I hope so,” Katie said. “Jackie Albert, I want you to meet my friends from River Heights—Nancy Drew, George Fayne, and Bess Marvin.” The girls shook hands with Jackie. “You’ve got to watch Jackie in the trick division,” Katie went on. “She’s the best. She taught me my first tricks years ago.”
Jackie smiled modestly. “And I’d say you’re a pretty fast learner—you had a great practice run this morning. It’s a good thing we’re not competing against each other for the overall. I’m glad I’m just entered in trick.”
“Jackie and I practice together when we’re at tournaments,” Katie explained to the others. “We’ve been in so many tournaments together that we know each other’s skiing pretty well by now.”
Jackie ran a hand through her short hair and glanced at the tournament tent nervously. “I hate to run,” she said, “but I still need to check in, and, Katie, the slalom event is about to start.”
“That means it’s time for me to get going,” Katie said. “Wish me luck!”
Nancy gave Katie a hug. “You’ll hear us cheering you on,” she said.
“It was nice meeting all of you,” Jackie said with a goodbye wave. After she and Katie walked away, Bess turned to Nancy and George. “Katie’s as energetic as ever, isn’t she?” she said.
George nodded. “And pretty calm, too. No wonder she’s a top water-skier. She seems so focused, even with all the pressure. I hope she’ll have time to give me some skiing pointers.”
Bess stretched out on her towel. “All I want to focus on is lying here in the sunshine,” she said with a smile.
“How about a compromise?” Nancy suggested. “Let’s first move closer to the shore so we can get a good view of Katie’s slalom round, then soak up some rays.” Nancy slung her blue- and white-striped beach bag over her shoulder and led the way down to the water’s edge.
Several people were walking up and down the long dock; others were sitting on the edges. On the beach spectators stood in groups or sat in beach chairs, waiting for the slalom competition to start. The sand sloped down toward the water, providing a natural grandstand view of the action on the lake.
“Is slalom in waterskiing like slalom in snow skiing?” Bess asked as they settled down on the shore. “I’ve seen snow slaloming on TV. The skiers maneuver around poles stuck in the snow.”
George nodded. “It’s the same, but in waterskiing, they weave around those orange buoys,” she said, pointing to two rows of buoys bobbing in the lake a few hundred feet off the shore. “The motorboat pulls the skier between the rows, and the skier swings out to either side to go around the buoys.”
“But if the skier is being pulled by a rope attached to a boat, doesn’t the rope get in the way?” Bess frowned.
“It’s easier with a long rope,” George said. “But with each round the competitors use shorter and shorter ropes, even though the buoys are still the same distance apart. It gets more and more difficult—the skier really has to stretch her body to make it around a buoy.”
“How do you know so much about waterskiing?” Nancy asked.
George shrugged. “I’ve skied a few times and seen it on television, too,” she said. “It’s not easy. I can’t wait to see this competition up close.”
“Now’s your chance,” Nancy said, motioning to the lake. “There goes Katie!” She watched through her binoculars as a sleek, spotlessly clean powerboat pulled Katie toward the slalom area.
Katie seemed so poised as she leaned back on her ski, ready to begin her run. The ski skimmed over the sparkling water, and Katie almost seemed to be flying across its surface.
“Our first competitor is Katie Cobb,” a voice announced over a loudspeaker. The spectators on shore grew silent as Katie approached the first buoy. Bess grabbed Nancy’s arm. “Look how fast she’s going,” she said excitedly.
Nancy nodded. She could feel her heart begin to race as Katie swung easily in a curve around the first buoy. The boat sped forward in a straight line down the center of the double line of buoys. Katie had to pull the rope from side to side in order to wind around the buoys.
Approaching the second one, Katie positioned her ski to go around the neon orange buoy and leaned over the buoy sideways, holding the rope with one hand. The ski cut around the buoy smoothly, and Katie straightened up as she headed for the next one.
“She’s doing great!” George exclaimed. “Her form is perfect.”
As Nancy watched, Katie took the next three buoys almost effortlessly. The boat sped through the water, and Katie sent up a wall of spray as she cut back and forth.
Heading for the sixth and last buoy, she swung her weight around, pulling the rope toward the orange marker. She positioned her ski again and leaned in toward the buoy.
In a split second, though, the ski shot out from under her. A huge funnel of water from the splash could be seen from the shore as the rope jerked out of Katie’s hands.
Katie had disappeared beneath the surface!
Tricks Can Be Dangerous
Nancy took a deep breath and kept her eyes glued to the sixth orange buoy. Short intakes of air were the only sounds heard from the spectators as they realized Katie had fallen.
“Oh, no!” Bess cried out in dismay. “Where is she?”
The crowd’s tense silence was broken by a collective sigh of relief as Katie’s head popped up above the water. Bobbing along in her life vest, she waved to the shore to indicate that she was all right.
“Thank goodness she’s okay,” George said. “But what a shame. She was doing so well.”
Bess nodded. “I wonder what happened,” she said.
Nancy shook her head. “Whatever it was, I’m sure it’s not the way Katie wanted to begin the tournament.”
Nancy turned her head, and her eye was caught by some movement on the long dock that stretched into the lake. She saw a woman running to the end of the dock. The woman was tall and lean, and her light brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. She waved urgently at Katie. Katie, who was putting her ski back on as she bobbed in the water, waved back.
Nancy turned to Bess and George. “That’s Katie’s mother,” she said. “I’m going to go say hello.” She walked over to the woman.
At the end of the dock Katie’s mother stood nervously with her arms crossed, watching Katie. “Mrs. Cobb?” Nancy said, step- ping up to her.
The tall woman turned to Nancy and her expression remained blank for a moment. Then her face broke out in a smile. “Nancy Drew!” she said brightly. “My goodness, how you’ve grown.” Mrs. Cobb held her arms out and gave Nancy a big hug. “How’s your father?” she asked. Nancy’s father, Carson Drew, was a well- known River Heights attorney.
“He’s fine, thank you,” Nancy answered.
“I was looking for you earlier,” Mrs. Cobb said. “Katie said you and your friends arrived last night.”
Nancy nodded and smiled. “We rented a cabin at Incline Village.”
“Close to ours, I hope,” Mrs. Cobb replied. Then the smile left her face. “I just wish Katie had had a better start this morning,” she said, shaking her head.
She peered over Nancy’s shoulder. Nancy turned to see Katie emerging out of the water in her dripping wet life vest. Her expression was grim.
Mrs. Cobb pulled a towel out of her shoulder bag to hand to Katie when she joined them on the dock. “What happened?” she asked. “Did you lean too far?”
Katie shook her head in frustration as she took off the vest and wrapped the towel around herself. “No,” she said firmly. “That wasn’t it.”
“Maybe you just miscalculated a bit going into the turn,” her mother began. “Remember—”
“I remember,” Katie interrupted. “I know that I’ve done that before. But not this time. The whole course felt different this time,” she said, her attention on the lake. “It felt like the ski was trying to slip away from me.” Katie became lost in thought for a moment.
Nancy turned to Mrs. Cobb with a grin. “You sound like you could be Katie’s coach.”
Mrs. Cobb smiled modestly. “I am Katie’s coach,” she said. “I took over recently. I did some exhibition skiing years ago— many years ago,” she added wryly.
“It wasn’t that many,” said a deep voice behind them. Nancy saw a tall, dark-haired man with a video camera approach. His eyes twinkled, and he had the same wide grin as Katie. Nancy recognized him as Bruce Cobb, Katie’s father.
“Nice try, sweetheart,” he said to Katie, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
Katie rolled her eyes and said, “Dad, you remember Nancy Drew, don’t you?”
“River Heights’s most famous amateur detective? Of course I do,” Mr. Cobb said, shaking Nancy’s hand. “Katie has told us about some of the mysteries you’ve solved.”
Before Nancy could respond, another voice from behind Mr. Cobb piped up, “Maybe she can figure out why Katie wiped out.” As Mr. Cobb stepped aside, Nancy saw a smaller, younger version of Katie standing on the dock. Her long hair was darker than Katie’s, but she had the same freckled face and green eyes.
“You must be Bridget,” Nancy said, smiling. “But I know you don’t remember me. You were pretty little when I last saw you.”
Bridget shook her hand and asked, “Well, do you want to take on ’The Case of Katie’s Collapse’?”
“Bridget, it was only a slight mistake,” Mrs. Cobb said, frowning at the younger girl. “Besides, everything depends on how Anna DeRicco does—she skis next.” Katie’s mom turned to Nancy and explained, “The slalom is a head-to-head competition—Katie is paired with another skier, in this case Anna DeRicco. Whichever of them successfully skis around the most buoys advances to the next round.”
Bess and George walked up to the group at the end of the dock, and Nancy introduced the cousins to the Cobbs. Then they all turned to watch Anna DeRicco begin her slalom run.
Nancy could see Katie’s body grow tense as she watched Anna round the first few buoys in perfect form. Mrs. Cobb put an arm around Katie as Anna came around the fourth buoy. But Anna jerked around the marker unsteadily. As she wobbled into her approach for the fifth buoy, she completely lost her balance and fell.
Katie dropped her clasped hands and sighed in relief. Mrs. Cobb’s face relaxed a bit, too. Katie had skied past one more buoy than Anna had, so she would compete in the next day’s round.
“Now let’s forget about slalom until tomorrow,” Mrs. Cobb said to Katie as they walked back down the dock toward the beach. “It’s time to start focusing on trick.”
Following her mom, Katie called back to Nancy, “I’ll catch up with you guys after the trick round, okay?”
“We have a big umbrella set up on the beach,” Mr. Cobb said to Nancy and her friends as they walked off the dock. “You girls are welcome to join us there. But if you want to get the best view of the trick, you should move down to the far end of the beach.”
“What happens in trick?” Bess asked Mr. Cobb.
“It’s a lot of fun,” Katie’s father began. “The skiers wear a small ski that allows them to maneuver more easily. They do spins, turns, and twists. They’ve got ninety seconds to perform as many tricks as they can. But they’re also scored on the difficulty of each individual trick.”
“Who assigns the scores?” Nancy asked.
“There are two judges on the shore, and a third who rides in each competitor’s boat,” Mr. Cobb explained. He pointed to a man and woman in orange windbreakers standing at the far end of the beach. “So the skiers try to give each trick individual flourishes.” He patted his video camera. “I need to grab another blank tape. We’ll meet you girls at the far end of the beach. Coming, Bridget?” Bridget shrugged and followed her father.
Left to themselves Nancy, Bess, and George began to walk down the beach. The sun was almost directly overhead now, and the sand was becoming hot to the touch. Bess removed her sandals and walked into the water. “Whoa!” she cried, and stepped back on the sand. “No wonder those skiers move so fast in the water,” she said. “It’s too cold to stay in there long.”
George studied her cousin. “Maybe you’d be interested in skiing a little yourself,” she suggested.
Bess shook her head emphatically. “No way,” she declared. “A canoe is more my speed.”
George laughed and turned to Nancy. “Did you find out what happened during Katie’s run?”
“Not really,” Nancy said. “Katie doesn’t think she miscalculated the course. But she felt very unsteady during the whole run and doesn’t know why.”
“I hope the trick run goes well for her,” George said.
Nancy nodded. “Me, too,” she agreed. They joined the group already gathered at the end of the beach, near a large outcropping of rocks that extended into the lake. Nancy, Bess, and George made their way to an open spot in front.
“Isn’t that Jackie Albert?” Bess asked, pointing to the skier being pulled across the lake. She was standing, in a crouched position, on a short ski.
“That’s her,” Nancy said. Several people in the small crowd were clapping and yelling encouragement to Jackie. Nancy watched the boat pick up some speed, and then Jackie suddenly spun around in a complete circle, rotating her hands rapidly over the rope handle. The spectators applauded. Jackie swiftly pulled the rope behind her and wrapped it around her waist. Then she spun out of the rope, whipping around in a flash.
“Wow!” Nancy said. “Katie was right. Jackie is good.” She watched as Jackie attached her foot to a holster in the rope, freeing her hands. With one foot in the ski and the other holding the rope, Jackie twisted around backward. After a series of spins and jumps, she turned back around, dropped her foot from the holster, and grabbed the rope handle with her hands again.
Then Jackie skidded her ski up onto the wake, the trail of choppy water left behind the moving boat. Using the wake as a little ramp, she flipped head over heels, landing firmly on her ski. The crowd roared.
A buzzer sounded, signaling the end of Jackie’s ninety seconds. Nancy saw the Cobbs walking toward her. Mrs. Cobb was obviously worried. “Katie’s next, and she’s got her work cut out for her, I’m afraid.”
Bess turned to Mrs. Cobb. “How did Jackie hold on to the rope with her feet?” she asked in awe.
“The rope is specially made for trick skiing with a foot holster built in,” Mrs. Cobb explained. “It’s a little tricky—if you need to let go for some reason, you can’t just drop the rope, the way you can when you’re holding it with your hands. But there’s a release mechanism on the boat—if a skier falls, the rope is released from the boat. Katie has several foot tricks in her routine, too.”
“Here she goes!” Mr. Cobb said, nudging his wife and lifting the video camera to his shoulder.
Nancy watched as Katie flew across the lake on the small ski. As the boat passed by, Nancy saw three people in it. She leaned toward Mrs. Cobb. “Who’s in the boat besides the driver and the judge?” she asked.
“That’s the observer,” Mrs. Cobb said. “In trick you want to have someone watch the skier to make sure everything goes smoothly. Many of the moves are complicated. That’s Tinker Clarkston out there. He’s an old friend of ours and a real skiing pro.” Squinting, Nancy saw he was a big man with a head of sun-bleached hair.
As Mrs. Cobb finished speaking Katie began her trick sequence. She led off with several of the same tricks that Jackie had done, twisting and spinning with the rope. Then she pulled the rope behind her, pushed it down toward the water, and jumped over it as if she were jumping rope. The spectators yelled and applauded.
After doing a backward flip keeping her body perfectly straight, Katie went right into her next jump: a leap from one side of the wake to the other. The jump was flawless, and the crowd began cheering loudly.
“So far, so good,” Mrs. Cobb said, never taking her eyes off Katie. “Her movements are very controlled.”
Nancy nodded and stared through her binoculars. Even to her untrained eye she could tell that Katie’s tricks were more complicated and her moves more precise than Jackie’s had been.
Katie moved the rope handle to her foot and turned backward. She spun around a few times with ease, carefully balancing herself. Mrs. Cobb drew in her breath. “Just a few seconds left,” she murmured, checking her watch. “She should be going into her last trick.”
Nancy’s eyes were riveted on Katie as the skier turned back to face forward. Steadying herself, she leaned over her bent uplifted leg toward the rope holster. As she was about to release her foot, her ski hit a wave. The ski jerked out from under her, dropping Katie into the water.
Nancy saw Tinker Clarkston lean over and pull the automatic rope release. Nothing seemed to happen. As the force of the water thrashed around Katie’s body, her foot remained trapped in the holster.
“Someone help her!” Mrs. Cobb screamed. “She’ll be killed!”
At the End of Her Rope
Cries from the spectators rose as Katie was dragged along the lake. Tinker Clarkston whirled around in the speedboat to shout at the driver to stop. Then he whipped out a pocketknife and cut through the rope that was towing Katie.
She bounced one final time before stopping. Nancy watched as her body lay completely still on the water’s surface, supported by her life vest. The driver of the boat had slowed down and made the sharp turn to go back to pick up Katie.
Nancy glanced to her right and saw that Mrs. Cobb’s face had paled. “What happened?” the woman kept repeating to herself. “Tinker was pulling on the trick release, but the rope didn’t budge.”
Mr. Cobb had an arm around his wife, and the two of them were focused only on their daughter.
The boat circled close to Katie, and Tinker leaned over the stern to help her. He held out his hand, and Katie reached for it. Her mother gasped—Katie was all right. The crowd began to cheer when they saw Katie’s hand move to give a feeble wave to the crowd.
With Tinker’s help Katie made it back into the boat. Nancy thought Katie looked shaken but uninjured. “I’m sure she’s fine,” Nancy said, reassuring Mr. and Mrs. Cobb.
Mrs. Cobb gave Nancy a weak smile. “Thank you, dear. Let’s go find out.” She and Mr. Cobb quickly pushed their way through the spectators toward the boat landing area. Nancy, Bess, and George followed. Nancy noticed for the first time that Bridget had been behind them all the time and now followed along silently.
As they approached the stretch of beach marked off as the landing area, Katie’s boat was gliding into shore. The driver had turned off the engine, and Tinker jumped into the shallow water to help guide the boat so that it could drop anchor. He caught sight of Mr. and Mrs. Cobb. “I think she’s okay,” he told them. “She’s a tough little competitor.”
“Thank goodness you were there, Tinker,” Mrs. Cobb said as she ran to the side of the boat. Katie stood up and her mother helped her out of the boat, greeting her with a warm hug. “Are you all right?” Mrs. Cobb asked Katie. She held her daughter’s face in her hands, peering anxiously into her eyes.
Katie nodded. She looked pale and tired. “My leg hurts,” she said, “but I don’t think anything is broken, just sore.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Bess blurted out. “I was so scared watching you.”
“I was pretty scared, too,” Katie said, managing a smile. “I’ve never had that happen before. I don’t know what could have gone wrong with that release rope.”
“It was stuck,” Tinker said, shaking his head helplessly. “I pulled and pulled, but nothing happened.”
The driver of the boat hopped out. “We used the same rope and release mechanism yesterday,” he said, “and it was fine.” He began to walk up the beach. “I’m going to report this to the tournament director.” He gave Katie a reassuring pat on the shoulder and took off after the boat judge, who was already heading for the tent.
Nancy glanced quickly at George, who nodded, reading Nancy’s thoughts exactly. “I’ll go with you,” George called to the driver, following him up the beach.
Nancy heard tiny splashes behind her and saw Jackie Albert running through the shallow water toward the group. She ran right up to Katie and grabbed her friend’s hand.
“Are you okay?” she asked. Katie smiled and nodded, and Jackie let out a deep breath. “I’ve never seen anything like that,” she said. “I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
Mr. Cobb put his arm around his daughter. “You need to sit down,” he said, leading Katie up onto the beach. Mrs. Cobb, Jackie, and Bridget followed, heading for the Cobbs’ beach umbrella.
Bess started after them, but Nancy pulled her back. “I’d like to stay here and look around for a minute,” she said in a low voice.
Bess looked surprised. “Why? What—” She caught herself, and her eyes grew round. Leaning toward Nancy, she asked, “You think this wasn’t an accident?”
Nancy raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Then she turned to look in the boat. A steel bar protruded from inside the back of the boat. Nancy knew this was the tow bar to which the skier’s rope was fastened.
Near the top of the bar a hook was attached to a steel mechanism. Nancy could see that the rope should have slipped right through the hook when Katie fell. Hanging from one end was a piece of the nylon rope, now frayed where Tinker had cut it.
On the side of the mechanism hung the small rope Tinker had pulled to activate the release. The mechanism had never released the rope from the hook.
Tinker still stood in the water by the side of the boat, watching Nancy examine the tow bar. “I’ve never seen anything like that,” he commented. “The rope should have sprung right out when I pulled.” He shook his head, baffled.
Nancy frowned. “Do these release ropes malfunction often?” she asked the older man.
Tinker was almost startled. “I’ve never heard of one doing it—ever,” he said. “Especially not on the boats they use for tournaments. The tournament sponsors provide top-of-the-line equipment for skiers, so they can show off their products.”
Nancy nodded slowly, thinking. Then Tinker waded over closer. “To tell the truth,” he said, lowering his voice, “it’d be pretty unusual for a piece they just tested yesterday to suddenly jam.” He paused for a moment. “I think somebody would have had to fiddle with it.”
Nancy studied the man’s tanned and lined face. Tinker had spoken the words she had just been thinking. She knew there was a slight possibility that the release rope had simply failed, but Katie, Jackie, and Tinker had all said that would be unusual.
Bess, standing a few feet away, had overheard the conversation. “Wasn’t Katie’s fall in the slalom unusual, too?” Bess asked.
Nancy checked Tinker before nodding. “I was thinking the same thing. Maybe there’s more to Katie’s accidents than bad luck,” she said uneasily.
She was startled to see a man standing near them. He was about Nancy’s height and had dark, thinning hair. He seemed to be watching Nancy intently. When she stared back at him, he whipped around and moved off a bit.
Nancy turned back to Bess and Tinker. “Let’s take a quick look inside the boat,” she suggested. “Then we can join the others.” She hoisted herself up and over the side of the boat.
The interior of the new blue-and-white speedboat was clean, furnished only with the driver’s seat and two other seats that faced the rear of the boat. The engine was housed in a large square box in the middle of the boat. Long narrow storage bins ran the length of the boat on both sides.
Nancy checked out the bins. Because the boat was new, they were practically empty. She poked through, finding an extra safety flag, an oar, and a fire extinguisher.
To be thorough, she felt around the back of the bin. There was nothing in the first one, but in the second, her hand brushed something. She pulled it out, a crumpled, rubbery object. Unfolding it, she saw it was a black ski glove with a pink neon stripe at the wrist and forefinger.
She turned to Tinker. “Have you seen this before?” she asked, showing him the glove.
He shook his head. “It’s not Katie’s,” he said. “She always wears red gloves. It’s her trademark.” He looked at the glove more closely. “But someone’s been using this one—that’s why it’s wrinkled. It’s a popular brand, but no one in our boat was wearing it today.”
Nancy nodded thoughtfully, putting the glove in her pocket. She’d find out whose glove it was—and why it was in the boat.
Nancy next turned her attention to the tow bar. She bent down to check the hook hanging from the metal piece near the top of the bar. She slid her finger through the hook, gently pulling. The hook moved slightly before sticking. She did it again, turning her head. As she did she noticed something glinting in the sunlight.
Peering closely at the hook, she examined the square piece of metal holding it. Two small rods held the hook and the release device. Jammed between them was a straight pin the size of a small hatpin.
Nancy reached in and, with a couple of sharp tugs, pulled the pin out. She held it up to Tinker, who was peering over her shoulder. “I don’t think this is part of the mechanism, is it?” she asked. Tinker stared at the pin and shook his head gravely.
Nancy then grabbed the few inches of rope attached to the hook. When she jerked the rope, it snapped away from the hook easily.
Bess, still standing in the shallow water, drew in her breath. “Someone deliberately wedged a pin in there?” she said in disbelief. “But why? Katie could have been seriously hurt.”
Nancy stood up with the pin in her hand. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. Her mind was racing. The pin must have been placed in the mechanism in order to jam it. If the rope had worked the day before, as the driver said, someone must have put the pin there more recently.
Nancy considered whether this could have been an act of general sabotage against the tournament. Katie was the first skier scheduled to use that boat in the trick event—and Nancy was still unsure if Katie’s fall in the slalom was an accident or not. It looked as if someone were trying to hurt Katie. But Bess’s question echoed in Nancy’s head: Why?
“Listen, I’d like to go check on Katie,” Tinker said, glancing up at the Cobbs’ beach umbrella. Nancy snapped back to attention and nodded. Putting the pin in her pocket along with the glove, she stepped out of the boat and followed Bess and Tinker up the beach.
She had fallen a few yards behind when Nancy heard a deep voice behind her yell, “Hey!”
She whirled around and saw the same dark-haired man who had been staring at her before. He was at the water’s edge, eyeing Nancy suspiciously. She frowned. “Excuse me?” she said abruptly.
“Who do you think you are?” the man demanded.
“Excuse me?” Nancy repeated.
“Who are you, snooping around like that?” the man said again, jerking his chin at Nancy. His arms were folded across his chest, and he was looking around nervously.
“Who are you?” Nancy retorted.
After deciding whether or not to answer her, he said in a voice full of authority, “I’m Gary Trachok, Pam Cartwright’s coach.”
Nancy blinked. The name seemed familiar, but she didn’t know why. “I’m Nancy Drew,” she said. “I’m a friend of Katie Cobb.”
Trachok muttered, “It’s too bad about her fall.”
Nancy nodded slowly, wondering what Trachok might know about the fall. Before she could say anything, though, he took a step forward, thrusting his face right in front of hers.
“I know who messed with that release device,” he declared, the words coming out in a rush.
Nancy backed away in surprise, but Trachok stepped even closer to her. Checking the beach furtively, he whispered hoarsely, “It was her sister—Bridget Cobb!”
Jumping to Conclusions
Nancy stood still, shocked by Trachok’s statement. Then she stepped back from the man, still trying to put some space between them.
Why would Trachok accuse Bridget? And how did he know that the release mechanism was jammed, anyway? Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but Trachok cut her off.
“That’s right—Bridget. Don’t look so surprised, Ms. Drew. If you’re really a friend of the family, then you know how nutty they all are. Sarah Cobb is no coach, and Bridget... well, let’s just say Bridget would love to spoil things for her older sister. I’m sure tampering with the release rope is just her way of getting even with Katie after all the—”
Trachok stopped in midsentence. Nancy turned to find Bess and George standing behind her, staring at the man in surprise.
Trachok muttered to Nancy, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Then he turned and began walking rapidly away from them.
George came to Nancy’s side. “What was that all about?” she asked.
Nancy shook her head rapidly, as if to rid herself of Trachok’s ominous speech. “I’m not sure,” she said slowly, “but obviously he’s not too fond of the Cobbs.” She told George about finding the pin and then explained to her and Bess who Trachok was and what he had said.
Bess frowned. “It’s not enough that Katie could have been killed,” she said angrily, “now people want to blame her family for it! Who does this Trachok think he is?”
George turned to Nancy. “I hate to interrupt,” she said, “but the Cobbs are waiting for us. They invited us to their cabin for lunch before the jump round this afternoon.”
“Oh, yeah,” Bess said, remembering. “They asked us to follow them in our car. It’s just a short drive.” Nancy nodded and the three began walking up the beach.
“What did the tournament director say?” Nancy said, asking George for an update.
“He was pretty upset,” George reported. “He said the equipment would be checked out, but he agreed with the driver—the release mechanism and the rope were in perfect condition yesterday.”
Nancy kept her head down, thinking.
“The one piece of good news,” George added, “is that Katie had a terrific score on her trick run, even with her fall. She’s leading the other competitors so far.”
Nancy smiled. “That is good news.”
• • •
After the intense sun on the beach, the Cobbs’ rented cabin felt wonderfully cool. Nancy, Bess, and George were seated around a large wooden table with the Cobbs, eating turkey sandwiches and potato salad. The small A-frame cabin, decorated with Old West memorabilia, was cozy, and Nancy could tell that Mr. and Mrs. Cobb were starting to relax. Bridget remained quiet, picking at her food.
Half an hour after they finished eating, Katie sat on the floor to stretch. Nancy didn’t want to upset Katie or her parents by telling them about the pin, but she had to clear up some questions in her mind. She turned to face Katie. “What do you know about Pam Cartwright’s coach?” she asked.
Katie jerked her head up, surprised. Mr. and Mrs. Cobb glanced at each other and then stared at Nancy. “Why do you ask?” Katie replied.
Nancy shrugged. “He introduced himself to me today, and I thought his name sounded familiar, that’s all,” she said casually.
Katie resumed stretching. “Gary Trachok used to be my coach,” she said matter-of-factly.
Nancy put her hand to her head. “That’s it,” she said, finally making the connection. “I think you told me his name once, but I’d forgotten.”
“I hope Trachok didn’t bother you, Nancy,” Mr. Cobb said sternly.
Nancy could tell this was a touchy subject with the Cobbs. She tried to downplay the incident. “I just wanted to place the name,” she said.
“Well, we fired him only recently,” Katie said from the floor. “When I started winning some tournaments, Gary decided I had a real shot at getting a national ranking. So he started to push me hard—too hard.”
“He had her skiing constantly,” Mrs. Cobb put in. “She did improve, but at what a cost. He kept her on too strict a training regimen, and he lectured her day and night.”
“That’s not my style,” Katie went on. “I ski because it’s fun, and I like to compete. But skiing isn’t my whole life.”
Nancy heard Bridget let out a short, sarcastic laugh.
Katie turned to her sister. “I know you think I’m obsessed with skiing, Bridget,” Katie said. “But it really isn’t my whole life—not anymore.”
Nancy hesitated a moment and then asked, “What was Trachok’s reaction to being fired?”
“He wasn’t happy,” Katie said grimly. “He told me it was my decision if I wanted to throw away a skiing career, but deep down I think he was angry and hurt.” She thought for a moment. “Gary’s a good coach, and Pam is doing well with him. But his regimen was too much for me.”
“We tried to explain to Gary that we were afraid that Katie would get injured with those intense workouts,” Mrs. Cobb added. “But he never really understood. We try to be civil toward him, but our relationship is not what you’d call friendly.”
Nancy nodded. From what Trachok had said about the Cobbs that morning, Nancy had guessed that he didn’t feel very friendly toward them. But now she wondered just how far his anger would go. Would it lead him to try to hurt Katie or sabotage her performance? He certainly was curious about Nancy’s investigation of the trick rope release.
“Well,” Mr. Cobb began, standing up to clear the table, “it’s not Gary Trachok I’m worried about. I just hope that the tournament director finds out what was wrong with the release rope before another skier is hurt.”
George and Bess focused on Nancy. She knew they were wondering if she would tell the Cobbs about the pin she had found. Nancy gave a brief shake of her head. She would tell the Cobbs eventually, but she didn’t want to upset them any more now—Katie still had another round of skiing ahead of her that afternoon.
Suddenly Bridget spoke up. “It’d be easy to jam one of those release ropes,” she said casually. “All you’d have to do is, like, stick a rod or pin or something in the hook part.”
Nancy could feel her expression change as she heard Bridget. Was Bridget just guessing? Or was there some truth to what Gary Trachok had said—was it Bridget who had jammed the release?
“That could be,” Mr. Cobb said to Bridget. “But why would anyone do it?”
Bridget shrugged and began to pull her long hair into a ponytail. Nancy stared at the girl, waiting for an answer. None came.
“I’d hate to think of someone doing that on purpose,” Mrs. Cobb said, glancing at Katie worriedly. She got up and helped Mr. Cobb clear away the lunch dishes. “We’d better get going. We have to be back at the beach in time for the jump round.”
As Nancy stood to help clean up, she realized that she was leaving with more questions than answers.
• • •
“I should have bought more sunscreen,” Bess said as she, Nancy, and George stood on the long dock to watch the jump competition. “I didn’t realize the sun would be so strong here.”
George took in Bess’s large straw hat, sunglasses, and the thick lotion she had spread over every exposed part of her body. “You’d have to be in a tent to be better covered,” George said dryly.
Bess glanced back at the tournament tent. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Nancy laughed. She looked out at the lake, where a large wedge-shaped jumping ramp had been set up in the water. They had already watched several skiers make the fast glide up the ramp and then fly more than a hundred feet above the water. The competition was heated, and the crowd grew more excited with each jump.
George nudged Nancy. “I think Katie’s next,” she said, pointing to a skier gathering speed in the approach to the ramp. Nancy nodded. She had her binoculars up to her eyes.
Katie was going so fast that she seemed to skim above the water. She pulled both skis to one side of the wake, readying herself for the jump. Then she slid up onto the ramp, exploding off the top edge.
Nancy watched breathlessly as Katie flew through the air, still hanging on to the tow rope. Shouts of awe and surprise came from the people on the dock as Katie hung suspended in midair. When she finally landed on the water again, the spectators burst into applause.
“Wow!” Nancy exclaimed. “That had to be the best jump yet.”
“Did you see how high she was?” George said.
The crowd quieted to hear the announcer state Katie’s jump length over the loudspeaker. The scratchy electronic voice could be heard up and down the beach. “One hundred forty-five feet for Katie Cobb.”
The crowd erupted into cheers again. Katie’s jump was nearly twenty feet longer than Pam Cartwright’s, who was now in second place.
“If she can do that on the first jump, imagine what she’ll do on the next two!” Bess said excitedly.
“I doubt she’ll even take her next two,” George said. “That jump will easily put her in the top half of the competitors, so she’ll definitely compete in tomorrow’s round. She’s allowed to skip her other turns today—that way she can save her energy.”
“Let’s go congratulate her,” Nancy suggested. The three girls walked back to the landing area.
Suddenly they heard shouts from that end of the beach. Nancy took off her sunglasses and saw a small group of people standing at the water’s edge in the landing area. They were waving their fists and chanting in unison, “Out of the lake! Out of the lake!”
“What’s going on?” Bess asked.
“I bet that’s the Blue Waters group,” George said.
“Blue Waters?” Nancy repeated.
“It’s an environmental group that’s trying to stop development around the lake,” George explained. “They’re against commercial uses of the lake, such as this tournament. I saw one of their fliers when I was in the tournament tent this morning.”
Nancy, Bess, and George came within twenty feet of the landing area. As Katie’s boat spun around to drop her off near the beach, the protesters moved over to stand in front of her.
Stepping out of her skis in the shallow water, Katie seemed surprised to see a group of people shaking their fists at her. She picked her skis up and waded to shore.
Four people broke away from the Blue Waters group and blocked her path. A tall man with a reddish brown beard began yelling at Katie, gesturing toward the lake and then pointing back at her.
Nancy finally reached the edge of the group, and Katie caught sight of her. “Excuse me,” Katie said to the tall man. “I really need to go dry off.” She stepped back into the water to go around him. Nancy cut through the group to meet her.
As Katie waded past the man, he suddenly leapt into the shallow water toward her. Grabbing hold of one of the skis she was holding, he yanked it from her hand. As Katie fell backward Nancy saw her expression of terror.
The man had lifted the ski into the air and was starting to bring it down on Katie’s head!
Still Waters Run Deep
Nancy made a running leap for the bearded man. As he was lowering the ski, Nancy grabbed his right arm with both hands. Yanking hard, she made him lose his grip on the ski and it dropped into the water with a harmless splash.
The man jerked away from Nancy, almost falling into the shallow water. “Careful!” another protester yelled, helping the bearded man remain upright. The small knot of demonstrators had stopped chanting and started to surround Nancy. Bess and George hurried over to stand with their friend.
The bearded man whirled around to Nancy, and she felt her muscles tense. “What do you think you’re doing?” he spat out. “How dare you attack me!” His deceptively soft voice was full of anger.
Nancy drew herself up, feeling a little angry herself. “Attack you?” she said evenly. “I was trying to stop you from hurting my friend.”
The man took a menacing step toward Nancy. “It’s your friend who’s hurting the lake and our other natural resources.”
“She’s not hurting anything,” Bess blurted out.
“What?” he exclaimed, his eyes flashing at Bess. “Are you all that ignorant? This whole tournament is a complete misuse of the lake.” The protesters around him began to nod and murmur, “Yeah! Tell her, Miller!”
Nancy heard more voices behind her, and she turned to see Mr. and Mrs. Cobb, Jackie Albert, and the tournament director break their way through the circle of people.
“Everything okay here, honey?” Mr. Cobb asked, handing Katie a towel. He wedged himself between Katie and Miller, glaring at Miller. Katie nodded and wrapped the towel around herself.
Just then the tournament director, whose name badge read Pat McKiernan, stepped in front of the protest leader. “Miller, you know the rules,” he said, sounding more than a bit exasperated. “Stay away from the skiers and the ski areas. We’ve got more skiers coming in.”
“And that’s just the trouble!” Miller retorted. “You won’t stop until you’ve ruined the entire lake.”
Pat McKiernan took a deep breath. “I don’t want to have to call the authorities,” he said, obviously trying to stay calm, “but I will.”
Miller threw his hands up. “All right, all right,” he said. “But don’t think you won’t be seeing us later.” He and the rest of the Blue Waters group trooped back off up the beach.
Pat McKiernan turned to Nancy, Katie, and the others. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “They have a right to demonstrate, but they were told to stay a hundred yards away from any skier.” Although he was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, McKiernan had the crisp, organized manner of a business executive. Curly red hair poked out from under his baseball cap.
“Who is Miller?” Nancy asked.
“Miller Burton is the leader of the Blue Waters organization,” McKiernan replied. “Their goal is to prevent overdevelopment of the lake area. Apparently they feel that the tournament brings too much traffic and pollution to the area, and the speedboats deplete the lake of its water. I sympathize with them and their goals, but Miller can be such an extremist that it’s hard to support him.” McKiernan shook his head.
“Anyway, back to the tournament,” he said, shrugging at Katie. “Congratulations on a terrific jump, Katie—it looks like we’ll have a great round tomorrow.” McKiernan clapped Katie on the shoulder and then headed back to the tournament tent.
“The jump!” Bess exclaimed. “I almost forgot. Katie, it was amazing!”
The wide grin returned to Katie’s face. “Thanks. It felt pretty amazing—everything just clicked. Mom, what you said about positioning my legs at the takeoff really helped.”
Mrs. Cobb smiled. “Good,” she said.
As the group headed for the Cobbs’ umbrella, Nancy, Katie, and Jackie fell behind, walking slowly up the beach. Nancy was deep in thought.
“It’s a shame that such a good jump had to end with that demonstration,” Jackie said. “I hope it didn’t throw you off.”
Katie laughed shakily. “Well, I am beginning to feel as though I have a bull’s-eye painted on me,” she admitted.
“Katie, that might be a real possibility,” Nancy said quietly.
Katie tilted her head in surprise. “What—you mean that I am a target?” she asked. “Why would anyone target me?”
Nancy shrugged and simply said, “I don’t know. I don’t even know that you are a target. I just thought I might check around a bit. And you should keep your eyes open, just in case you are in danger.”
Katie turned to Jackie. “Back in River Heights Nancy is an amateur detective,” she explained proudly. “But she’s as good as any pro.”
“Really?” Jackie said, interested. “I’ve always loved detective stories. If you were investigating, who would be your prime suspects?”
“Well, I’d like to know more about Miller Burton,” Nancy began.
“You know, I just read his name in the local paper,” Jackie said slowly, scrunching up her forehead in thought. “What was it... Oh, yes, he was accused of shoplifting from a ski store in Truckee. It’s a little town not far from here.”
Nancy raised an eyebrow. “It would take you only forty-five minutes to get to Truckee,” Jackie added.
“It’s a cute little town,” Katie put in. “They have an old-fashioned main street with lots of little shops. It might be fun.”
Nancy called up to Bess and George. “How about an afternoon trip to Truckee?” she asked.
“I heard it has lots of little shops,” Bess said, “so you can count me in.”
George groaned at the idea of shopping, but agreed to go, too.
“Are you girls making plans?” Mrs. Cobb said as they reached the umbrella. “Don’t forget that the tournament sponsors are hosting a big spaghetti dinner in Tahoe City tonight. I’d love for you all to join us.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Nancy said. “Thanks, Mrs. Cobb.”
• • •
Nancy, Bess, and George stepped out of their rental car and into the midafternoon sunshine in Truckee. They’d gone straight back to their cabin, dropping off their beach gear and changing clothes before setting out. Now Nancy and George, in shorts and T-shirts, and Bess, in a sleeveless denim blouse and shorts, were strolling up and down Commercial Row, Truckee’s quaint main street.
The storefronts looked as if they’d been lifted out of the Old West, though they now housed clothing shops, jewelry boutiques, and small restaurants. “Isn’t it wonderful?” Nancy exclaimed.
“Well, that depends on what ’it’ is,” George said. “I think the mountains are spectacular. But Bess is more interested in that store behind us.” Nancy turned and saw Bess with her nose pressed up against the glass.
Nancy laughed. “Bess, the ski shop I have to check out is around the corner on that cross street,” she said, pointing. “Why don’t you get some shopping done and we’ll meet you back at this corner in half an hour?”
Bess agreed, and Nancy and George, following the directions Jackie and Katie had given them, set off for Sierra Ski.
In a few minutes they were pushing through the heavy oak door of the shop. The store was divided into two sections, one for snow skiing and one for waterskiing. All the waterskiing equipment was prominently placed in front with racks displaying wetsuits and swimsuits and one wall stacked high with water skis.
As Nancy and George stood and looked around, a sandy-haired man in jeans walked up to them. “Can I help you, ladies?” he asked.
“I was hoping to find the manager,” Nancy said.
The man smiled. “You found him,” he said. “I’m Mike. What can I do for you?”
Nancy introduced herself and George and described their confrontation with Miller Burton and the Blue Waters group. “I’ve heard that he was accused of shoplifting from your store,” Nancy said. “Is that true?”
Mike shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. “You must have seen the newspaper account,” he said. “I wish those reporters would get their stories straight. Last week Miller stopped by to drop off some pamphlets. He got into a shouting match with a couple of young guys who were shopping here.” He paused.
“And?” Nancy prompted him.
Mike shrugged. “That was it. The young guys made a big deal of it—they started yelling that Miller had hit them and that they saw him taking some T-shirts.”
“Had he?” George asked.
Mike shook his head. “I was watching him the whole time he was here. The young men admitted later that they’d never actually seen any shoplifting.”
“Do you know who those guys were?” Nancy asked.
“Never seen them before—or since,” Mike said. He smiled a little. “I know Miller can be a pain, but he’s really committed to his cause. I think he just gets carried away sometimes.”
Nancy nodded thoughtfully. She was wondering how carried away Miller might get. As she was staring at the wall of skis, a thought hit her.
She motioned to the wall. “Most of these skis have a small fin on the bottom. I guess that helps the skier guide the ski.”
Mike nodded. “Your better skiers will be concerned about the fin,” he said. “The rest of us just try to stay up.”
Nancy smiled. “Can the fin be adjusted?”
Mike’s eyes lit up. “We sell adjustable fins,” he said. “They’re easy to use. You just attach one to the ski, and then you can move it to just the right position. Pro skiers might use it to control their slalom runs.”
Nancy nodded slowly, thinking of Katie’s fall during her slalom run that morning. But before she could ask another question, Mike continued. “In fact, I just had a coach in here asking me about adjustable fins,” he said. “If you were at the tournament today, you might have seen him—Gary Trachok. He’s Pam Cartwright’s coach.”
George coughed and glanced at Nancy. Feeling her heart jump, Nancy tried to keep her voice level as she asked, “Did he buy a fin?”
“No, he said he already had one,” Mike said. “He just wanted me to demonstrate some of the new ones that allow you to make minute adjustments.”
“Are they difficult to adjust?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, no,” Mike said. “You could make a change on a fin while sitting on the dock.”
Mike excused himself to help a customer, and Nancy and George left the shop. As they did, George grabbed Nancy’s arm. “I bet Trachok was asking about that fin so he could adjust Katie’s ski. I know that’s what made her fall,” she said excitedly.
Nancy shook her head. “We don’t have any proof of that,” she said. “It could just be a strange coincidence that Katie fell after Trachok asked about adjusting the fin. Very strange,” she added pointedly.
“What do we do now?” George asked.
Nancy checked her watch. “We can shop a bit with Bess,” she said, “and then head for Tahoe City. We have some serious spaghetti eating ahead of us.”
• • •
A few hours later Nancy pushed away her empty plate. “I can’t eat another bite,” she said.
“I feel the same way,” Mrs. Cobb agreed. “But this garlic bread is so good, it’s hard to stop.”
The tournament participants and sponsors had taken over an open, airy room in one of the beachfront restaurants in Tahoe City, a few miles around the lake. Sitting at long wooden tables with red- and white-checked tablecloths, they were enjoying spaghetti, garlic bread, and green salad.
Almost three full sides of the room were glass, which gave a wide vista of Lake Tahoe. The still waters of the lake were reflecting the fading oranges and reds of the sunset sky.
The Cobbs sat across from Nancy, Bess, and George, Bridget between her parents. The young girl glanced up occasionally to stare intently at Nancy. Some people were still eating, while others were already mingling.
“Everyone is so relaxed here,” George said. “It’s hard to believe you’re all competing against one another.”
“Oh, we’re competitive when we have to be,” Katie said, finishing up her salad. “But since you run into the same people from tournament to tournament, you tend to become friends.”
Nancy let her eyes wander out the long window next to her. Boats bobbed in the water on either side of a short pier. She saw someone walk out onto the dock, stopping often to gaze out at the lake. As the person turned, Nancy saw that it was Pam Cartwright.
Nancy stood up and excused herself from the table, saying she’d be right back. This was a good chance to speak to Pam alone. If Katie’s mishaps weren’t accidents, someone had to have a reason to want Katie knocked out of the competition. Nancy knew Pam was her main rival for the overall title—and Gary Trachok was Pam’s coach.
As she reached for the knob to open one of the side doors that led to the beach, Nancy was startled by a hand on her arm. She whirled around to find Trachok standing behind her.
“Where are you off to now, Ms. Drew?” he said in a quiet, sarcastic voice. “A little more spying? Have the Cobbs hired their own spy now?”
Nancy pulled her arm away from his hand. “I’m going for a walk,” she said calmly. “As far as I know, the beach is open to everyone.” She slipped out the door onto the darkening beach. It was easy to understand why the Cobbs felt Katie would be better off without Trachok, she thought.
Outside, the clatter of the dinner faded to be replaced by the gentle lapping of water. Nancy slipped off her shoes to walk more easily in the sand. As she approached the dock she saw another figure had joined Pam on the dock.
Nancy hurried onto the dock and, moving quietly down one side, saw that it was Jackie Albert who had joined Pam. Nancy frowned. Was Katie right—were all the competitors friends? Keeping near the boats on the right side, she crept up toward them, hoping to overhear their conversation. The dock creaked as boats bumped against it, and Nancy tried to blend her footsteps in with the creaks.
Without warning Pam and Jackie turned around to walk back to the beach. Nancy stopped dead. She peered around for a place to hide, her heart beating rapidly. She didn’t want to be caught spying on them.
As the two came closer, Nancy quickly slipped down into the sailboat nearest her, crouching low against the side. She backed up against a pile of damp canvas tarps.
Slowly she brought her head up, watching the dock. As Jackie and Pam approached the sailboat, she heard the low murmur of their voices, but none of the words was distinct. They paused for a moment in midstride, then t