Gold Medal Murder by Franklin W. Dixon

been doing your homework.”
    â€œInformation is my job, lady friend. So what can I do you for?”
    â€œI hear you’ve got cameras hidden throughout the arena.”
    â€œI can neither confirm nor deny these rumors,” said Vijay, his voice deadpan. I laughed again.
    â€œWell, if you do have cameras, do you think you could check the footage for the women’s locker room, and see if anyone has been messing around with Lexi’s locker?”
    â€œIf we had put cameras around the space, I would have been the one to do it. And if I had been the one putting up cameras, I wouldn’t really have been able to get into the women’s locker room, would I?”
    â€œRight. Good hypothetical point. Well, could youlook for any footage of someone tampering with her fencing blade?”
    â€œThat would be more doable. But it’d take a while. Not even sure where I’d start to look. I guess I’d have to watch the fight, then follow the blade back through the various cameras, to try and see at what point someone sharpened it. That will take a while. I mean,
would
take a while. If I had hidden cameras in the arena. Which I can neither confirm nor deny.”
    â€œThanks, Vijay. You’re the best.”
    â€œPeace out girl scout.”
    As I slipped the phone into my pocket, I realized it had totally worked. I had been so distracted by talking to Vijay, I hadn’t even noticed when I’d breezed right by security and into the women’s locker room! Nancy Drew one, Olympic security zero.
    The locker room was just endless rows of red metal lockers and wooden benches. It looked like a slightly upscale gym. This was the behind-the-scenes part of the arena. It was no frills—a place for serious people to do serious work.
    Lexi’s locker was number 173. From the outside, it looked just like all the others. Red metal, a little shorter than I was, maybe eight inches wide. I dug through my purse and pulled out a makeup compact. After a quick look around to confirm I was alone, I flipped it open, pulled out a makeup brush, and began to dust for fingerprints.Blush, I had long ago learned, had many uses.
    Sadly, the front of the locker held no information—or rather, too much. A quick glance showed dozens, if not more, sets of fingerprints. There’d be no way to figure out who had brushed it in passing and who had broken into it. Besides, the person who’d broken in had probably used gloves to do it. I imagined that would probably be the case, but you always had to try the obvious answers first, just in case. I’d cracked more cases due to stupidity on the parts of the perpetrators than anything else.
    Lexi had given me the combination, so I opened the locker. Not much was in there—her street clothes and a few books. I rifled through the pockets and flipped through the books, but I didn’t find much of anything. A photo fell out of one of the books when I opened it, or rather, half of a photo did. I picked it up off the floor. It was of Lexi. Someone had torn it in two. It might not have been anything… but I wanted to ask Lexi about it anyway. You could never be too careful.
    The rest of the day was uneventful. Lexi’s dad had to run some errands, so we promised to drive Lexi back to the Starlet when her training was over. Bess, George, and I spent most of the day in the stands, watching Lexi destroy her opponents. She seemed a shoo-in for the gold medal—if she lived to make it to the actual games.
    â€œSo how are you feeling?” I asked Lexi, in between one of her matches.
    â€œAll right. Leg burns a little, but I think it’ll be fine.”
    I couldn’t believe she was back to fencing just a day after being injured. But I guess you didn’t make it to the Olympics without being dedicated.
    â€œWell, you seem to be doing just fine, even with the injury.”
    â€œYeah. It’s going to take more than a little flesh