The Case of the Photo Finish

  Contents

  * * *

  1 Let the Games Begin

  2 Warming Up

  3 A Sticky Clue

  4 New Information

  5 Too Many Suspects

  6 Danger at Dawn

  7 A Lost Clue

  8 A Serious Charge

  9 Lights Out!

  10 Marta’s Confession

  11 More Dirty Tricks

  12 A Telltale Photo

  13 A Secret Source

  14 Thief in the Night

  15 Race for the Gold

  16 Winners and Losers

  1

  Let the Games Begin

  Nancy Drew pushed her shoulder-length reddish blond hair back from her face and squinted her eyes to get a better look. She leaned to the left, then to the right, trying to see around a tall man in a checked sport coat, but all she could see were the many people who had assembled in front of the River Heights City Hall. The building was draped with colorful flags from around the world, and a big banner over the entrance read, “Welcome International High School Games.”

  The eighteen-year-old detective and her good friend George Fayne had come for the ceremony being given by the city in honor of the students.

  “Can you see? Are the buses coming yet?” Nancy asked.

  George, who was a little taller than Nancy, stood on tiptoe and peered over the heads of the crowd. “I don’t—Yes, there they are. They’re just pulling up to the curb!”

  A wave of applause began at the far side of the square, where the bus was, and swept through the crowd toward Nancy and George. When Nancy craned her neck, she could see two lines of young athletes in matching white warm-up suits filing across the open space in front of the City Hall steps. Some of the teenagers looked solemn, almost scared, but others were grinning and waving to the spectators.

  “There’s Marta,” George said.

  “The girl who’s staying with you?” Nancy asked. Like the Drews, George and her family had volunteered to put up one of the visiting athletes in their home. “Where? Which one?”

  George pointed. “The one with the short blond hair, right behind the guy with the headband.”

  “Oh, yeah, I see her,” Nancy said with a nod. “Is she nice?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’ve said about five words to her so far, like, ‘Hello,’ ‘Welcome to River Heights,’ and ‘Your bedroom’s this way.’ ”

  “That’s more like ten words,” Nancy observed with a teasing smile.

  George rolled her eyes. “Whatever. No, I guess Marta’s all right,” she continued. “But her trainer . . . We weren’t really figuring on two visitors. It’s lucky we have twin beds in the guest room. Still, it’s a terrific chance to get to know a really great young athlete. I bet we’ll be watching some of these kids in the next Olympics.” Sports was George’s greatest passion, so she was especially excited about the games.

  “I like those special passes to the field that host families receive,” Nancy added, grinning. “Being able to wander around will be a lot more fun than sitting in the stands the whole time.”

  Nancy had been looking at the athletes as she and George spoke. “Oh, look,” she said, pointing. “There’s Cheryl Pierce. She’s the one who’s going to be staying with us. I hear she’s a hot favorite to take home some gold.” She sighed, then added, “I wish the company that donated all those warm-up suits had chosen a color other than white. They all look like hospital orderlies.”

  “Shh! They’re starting,” George said.

  A man in a blue suit had moved over to the microphone at the top of the steps leading to City Hall. As he tapped on the mike, the TV crews turned on their floodlights.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the man began, “I’ve just received a phone call from the mayor. He asked me to apologize to all of you for being late, most especially to our talented and dedicated young guests from around the world. Unfortunately, his car had a flat tire across town—”

  The crowd let out a collective groan, and the TV crews turned off their lights.

  “It will be a few more minutes before he can get here. In the meantime, maybe some of you would like to mingle with our visitors and give them a more informal welcome to River Heights.”

  Nancy took George’s arm. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll introduce you to Cheryl, and then you can take me to meet Marta. I wonder if they know each other?”

  The two friends made their way through the crowd to where the athletes were milling about.

  “There she is,” Nancy said, then called out, “Cheryl!”

  The young woman who looked around was tall and slim, with dark skin and curly long black hair. When she saw Nancy, she flashed a warm smile.

  “Cheryl, this is my friend, George Fayne,” Nancy said.

  “Hi, George,” Cheryl said, holding out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Hold it!” someone called. “This way!”

  Nancy looked around to see a young guy wearing a torn Washington Redskins sweatshirt. He was kneeling on the pavement and aiming a camera at them. A second camera dangled from his shoulder. After snapping a couple of shots, he stood up, grinning.

  “That’s Eric,” Cheryl said. “Eric Land. He’s from Washington, too.”

  “Do you always bring your own photographer to meets?” George asked.

  “Not really,” Cheryl said with a little laugh. “Athletics Weekly is putting on a big sports photography contest for high-school students. Eric came up with the idea of following one of the kids who’s in the meet. I guess since he’s taken some pictures of me before, he thought of me.”

  “It was nice of you to agree,” said Nancy, stepping aside as the photographer leaned past her to get a close-up of Cheryl. “Doesn’t he make you a little, um, self-conscious?”

  Cheryl laughed again. “I don’t even notice him anymore,” she said. Then, becoming more serious, she added, “And I figured it would be good publicity for the sport. Track and field events don’t really get the attention they deserve.”

  “And it is so flattering to have your picture always taken as well,” a harsh, accented voice broke in. “Easier to be a star before a camera than to win against honest competition.”

  Cheryl’s face froze, and her dark eyes fixed on someone behind Nancy. Looking over her shoulder, Nancy saw an older woman standing there. Her gray hair framed a wrinkled, weathered face, but her body was trim and fit.

  “Why, Ms. Roth,” George said, stepping forward. “I didn’t see you. This is my friend Nancy Drew, and this is—”

  “Helga and I know each other,” Cheryl said coldly. “I think we met in Italy last time, right?”

  “Bologna, in October,” the gray-haired woman replied. “Marta was suffering from a bad cough, which allowed you to win the one-hundred-meter sprint.”

  “I was sick, too,” Cheryl retorted. “But I wouldn’t have tried to use that as an excuse if I had lost the race. I call that tacky.”

  “This word I do not know,” Helga said. “But you must not expect such good luck this time. Marta is in perfect condition. She will win every event she enters.”

  “Good for her,” Cheryl replied. She turned her back on the trainer. Helga Roth stared at her for a long moment, then walked away.

  Nancy took in Cheryl’s stony expression, then shot George an inquiring look. She couldn’t help wondering if the angry exchange they’d just witnessed was simply because of the competition between the two athletes or if there was something more to it.

  “I guess I’d better go,” George said apologetically to Nancy and Cheryl, then followed Helga.

  “Marta and her trainer are staying with George’s family during the meet,” Nancy explained.

/>   “I’m sorry if I was rude,” said Cheryl. “I don’t mind competition. In fact, I need it. Good opponents make for better race times.”

  “Hey, I like that,” Eric said from just behind her. “It’ll be a great quote for our article.”

  “Your article, Eric,” Cheryl reminded him. “Please don’t get me any more involved than I already am. I have other things to think about—like winning a race—remember?”

  Eric merely grinned and snapped another close-up of Cheryl and Nancy.

  “I hate people who brag,” Cheryl said to Nancy. “It’s even worse when they can’t live up to their words and then make all kinds of excuses. I mean, for Helga to say I didn’t win that race in Italy fair and square . . .”

  As she listened to Cheryl, Nancy couldn’t help wondering about the competition between Cheryl and Marta. Nancy had earned a reputation as a first-rate amateur sleuth in River Heights, and from what she had just learned, it sounded as though the competition might provide some intrigue as well as plenty of excitement.

  “Do you know a lot of the athletes here?” she asked Cheryl.

  Cheryl shook her head. “Far from it,” she replied. “I’ve met some of the American kids, of course, and a few of the ones from Europe. I’ve been to two big meets over there.”

  “That must have been exciting for you.”

  “You bet it was.” Cheryl’s dark brown eyes sparkled. “I never thought I’d get to see Europe before I even got out of high school. You see, my mom works in the post office back in Washington, and we don’t have a lot of money for traveling. But after I started winning at regional track meets, some people in my neighborhood organized a committee and raised the money to send me to these international meets.”

  “That must make you feel really good,” Nancy said warmly.

  “Oh, it does,” Cheryl agreed. “But it’s kind of a burden, too. Everyone has such high hopes for me. I feel like I have to win. And if I don’t, if I have an off day—and that can happen to anyone—it’s not just me I’m letting down. It’s all my supporters, too.”

  “That’s a lot of pressure to be under,” Nancy said sympathetically. “I know what it’s like when everybody expects you to succeed. It’s hard to keep that from getting in the way.”

  Glancing over Cheryl’s shoulder, she noticed a familiar face in the crowd. “Oh,” Nancy said, “there’s my friend Bess Marvin. Come on over and meet her. I think you’ll like each other.”

  At that moment, however, the man in the blue suit tapped on the microphone again, and Nancy and Cheryl turned to listen.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “I’m happy to say that the mayor is now here with us to welcome our honored guests. Will those of you who will be participating in the River Heights International High School Games please take your places in the stands?”

  He motioned toward a set of temporary bleachers made of a pipe frame and wooden planks. Nancy recognized them as the ones that showed up in the River Heights High gym whenever a winning streak drew extra fans to basketball games.

  “Excuse me,” Cheryl said. “I’d better get over there.”

  “Sure,” Nancy replied. “I’ll see you after the ceremony.”

  Young athletes in their white warm-up suits began heading for the bleachers. Those who got there first had to clamber over the lower benches to reach the upper rows. This slowed them down, and a traffic jam developed at the bottom of the stands.

  As more and more athletes climbed up and crowded in, the stands became so full that Nancy began to wonder if there was enough room for everyone. Cheryl was standing in the top row, right on the end, next to the railing. She was looking out at the crowd, and when she spotted Nancy down below, she waved.

  Nancy was raising her hand to wave back when suddenly the cheerful smile left Cheryl’s face and was replaced by an expression of surprise and alarm.

  In the next instant, Cheryl toppled forward over the railing, flinging out her arms. Nancy watched in horror as Cheryl plunged headfirst toward the pavement below!

  2

  Warming Up

  Nancy held her breath. Cheryl reached desperately with one hand for the pipe railing. She had almost fallen beyond reach of it, but she managed—just barely—to get a hold on the rail. Then Cheryl’s body jerked around and banged into the end of one of the footboards.

  But the young athlete didn’t lose her grip on the railing and hung suspended ten feet above the ground. Nancy thought she saw Cheryl wince, but the athlete managed to find a foothold on the piping, and she climbed carefully down to the ground. A group of spectators bunched around her.

  Nancy dashed through the crowd toward the stands, and as she drew nearer, she heard somebody ask Cheryl if she’d been injured in the accident.

  “Accident!” Cheryl exclaimed in a loud voice. “No way! Somebody shoved me. And I bet I know who it was, too!”

  Cheryl glared up at the stands, and Nancy followed the direction of her gaze. There, at the railing, looking down, was blond-haired Marta, the runner whose trainer had confronted Cheryl a few minutes earlier.

  “Come on, admit it, Marta,” Cheryl called up to the stands. “You were right behind me. You saw your chance to make sure that you won an event or two this weekend. So you gave me a little push, right?”

  Marta’s face turned bright red. “This is a very serious thing you are saying,” Nancy heard the girl say in a shaky voice. “I am not at fault if you are clumsy and trip. You must watch your step better.”

  “You’re the one who’d better watch your step,” Cheryl retorted. “If I—”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice over the loudspeaker boomed. “His Honor, the mayor.”

  Apparently, no one had noticed the disturbance except for a small circle of people at the end of the stands where Cheryl had fallen. Cheryl gave a frustrated shrug and turned away from her argument with Marta.

  The mayor, a tall man with wavy gray hair and bushy eyebrows, stepped up to the microphone and raised his arms to acknowledge the applause. As the clapping died away, he began: “My friends, our city of River Heights is honored to welcome some of the finest, most dedicated young athletes in the world. This weekend, the eyes of sports fans everywhere are turned toward River Heights.”

  Nancy tuned out. Whatever the mayor had to say, it could hardly be as important as the question she had to grapple with. Had someone just tried to push Cheryl off the stands? Ten feet wasn’t an enormous drop, especially for an athlete, but Cheryl could easily have pulled or bruised a muscle. Even a minor injury could hinder her performance in the meet. Would Marta do such a thing?

  Nancy glanced up into the stands again. Marta’s trainer, Helga, was sitting next to Marta, looking even grimmer than before. Was she concerned because of the attack on Cheryl and the accusation against Marta? Nancy wondered. Or because the attack had failed?

  Struck by a sudden idea, Nancy glanced around at the crowd until she spotted Eric’s Redskins sweatshirt a dozen feet away. She started edging toward him.

  “Eric?” she said in a low voice, so as not to disturb the mayor’s speech.

  “Oh, hi,” he said, startled.

  Several spectators looked around, frowned, and said, “Shh!”

  Nancy leaned closer to him and whispered, “Did you see what happened before, when Cheryl fell from the stand?”

  “I sure did,” he muttered. “That was a close call. I hope it doesn’t hurt her chances in the meet.”

  “Did you get any pictures of the fall?”

  “Well . . . I can’t be sure. I glanced over just as she started to fall. It took me a moment to get the camera up to my eye, so I missed the first few seconds of the action.”

  “Oh,” Nancy said, disappointed.

  “I managed to grab a few shots, though,” Eric continued.

  “Would your photos show who was standing near her when she fell?” Nancy asked.

  “Maybe. It depends on the field of view. I zoomed in pretty quickly. Why?”
<
br />   “Cheryl said that somebody pushed her,” Nancy told him. “I’d like to know if she’s right. Because if she is, whoever did it might try again.”

  Eric raised his eyebrows, and a look of excitement came into his eyes. “Wow, what a story! ‘Danger Stalks Teen Track Star.’ Or better yet, ‘Prize Photos Hold Crucial Clue.’ ”

  “Listen, this isn’t a game,” Nancy cautioned him. “Cheryl might have been hurt just now. Her fall could have been an accident, of course. But if it wasn’t, and if your pictures can help head off another attack—”

  Eric looked apologetic, and his cheeks flushed. “I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t help talking like that sometimes. I really do want to help. The only thing is, the camera’s loaded with color slide film. It might be hard to find a lab that’ll develop it in a rush.”

  “See what you can do, okay?” Nancy said. “And if I can help—”

  A burst of applause signaled the end of the mayor’s speech. Nancy looked up to see him come down the steps and start shaking hands with the athletes and the other guests as they filed out of the bleachers.

  “Excuse me,” Eric said. “I need a shot of Cheryl with the mayor.” He hurried away, already raising one of his cameras to his eye. Nancy looked after him and shook her head. Obviously, Eric was totally wrapped up in his project. She just hoped he remembered to take a break from taking pictures long enough to get his film developed.

  “Ground Control to Nancy Drew,” a voice said. “Come in, please.”

  Nancy glanced around and saw Bess Marvin, George’s cousin. “Oh, hi, Bess,” Nancy said. “I noticed you in the crowd just before the mayor’s speech, but there wasn’t time to say hello.”

  Bess’s blond hair shone in the sunlight. Focusing her sparkling blue eyes on Nancy, she said, “You look very thoughtful. The mayor’s speech must have made quite an impression on you.”

  “I didn’t hear a word of it,” Nancy replied. She quickly filled Bess in on Cheryl’s fall.

  “Hey, I saw that! She’s your guest?” Bess paused and studied Nancy’s face for a moment. Then, rolling her eyes, she said, “Uh-oh. I know the signs. You smell a mystery. You think her fall wasn’t an accident, and you’re planning to find out who pushed her. Right?”