Dying for a Dance (27 page)

I finally made it to the entrance and was stopped because I hadn't purchased a ticket for the day's events. I argued with the attendant that it was a life and death situation. Evidently that line had been used too often by impoverished dance enthusiasts.

Fortunately I had a twenty-dollar bill in my evening bag so I went back in line to pay. The attendant stamped my hand and finally allowed me to enter. The audience was even larger than yesterday. Standing room only.

Throwing good manners aside, I shoved one couple apart to see if I could discover Stan, Irina or Paula on the dance floor, or even sitting at one of the tables along the perimeter.

“Hey,” squawked the tall, tanned female dressed in two pieces of glittery turquoise fabric, attached by what looked like strings of dental floss. I wouldn't even sleep in that meager outfit, much less shake my booty.

“Sorry, I need to find a friend of mine. Do you know which event is next?”

She rifled through her program. “They're running a little behind schedule. After this Viennese waltz there will be a tango then the gold scholarship event will begin.” That meant Stan was probably ready to go on if he had found a partner. Paula's multi-dance competition would begin right after his event. I scanned the room in search of a familiar face.

The refrain of a Rascal Flatts top hit filled the room. Hmmm. Who knew my favorite country duo wrote songs you could dance the Viennese waltz to. I peered at the couples on the dance floor. No one from our studio. I glanced toward the opening where the couples normally entered onto the floor. The light from the chandelier reflected a glint of something metal. A pair of wire rimmed glasses under a receding forehead. Stan!

A jumble of male and female dancers waited for their opportunity to perform. The music ended and the dancers who were currently on the floor bowed and curtseyed. Then they exited as the new competitors walked on. Stan looked frightened, but so did several of the other participants. If there were not enough competitors in a specific age category then newcomers, intermediate and advanced students could all end up dancing at the same time. The only person who didn't appear the least filled with trepidation was Stan's partner.

Paula!

My buddy looked out into the audience. As soon as he saw me, his frozen smile morphed into a warm grin. He pointed at me and Paula glanced in my direction. Unfortunately, I don't have a poker face. Our eyes locked and her expression grew wary.

The music started and the couples on the floor executed the authoritative steps of the tango. Paula stumbled once, but I didn't know if it was because she couldn't follow Stan's lead, or if her thoughts were elsewhere. My eyes remained glued to the couple so I couldn't compare their performance to the other competitors.

I was more relieved than the dancers when the music ended. Stan and Paula bowed and walked off the floor. I moved in their direction, my intent to intercede and keep Paula occupied until the detective arrived. I glanced at my cell. Had no one noticed the matron of honor's absence and checked their messages?

Stan and Paula split up and she disappeared from sight. Bronzed bodies in a variety of shapes and sizes blocked all paths leading to my friend. The emcee announced a five minute break before the scholarship dance competition would begin.

A few couples drifted on to the floor to practice, providing me with an opportunity to scoot across the parquet tiles and bypass the throngs along the sidelines.

“Stan,” I yelled. Not discreet but definitely effective because he glanced up at once. He waved and met me in the middle of the dance floor.

“How did I do? Wasn't it great of Paula to step in? Since we couldn't find Anya, the organizer let me switch to the amateur/amateur category.”

“Yeah, terrific. Have you heard from Anya?”

He shook his head. “Not a word. Did you try calling her before the wedding...” His voice dropped off and he glanced down at his watch.

“Laurel, it's almost four thirty. Shouldn't you be getting ready to walk down the aisle? Liz is going to kill you. And me, too, since you came here to watch me.”

“The only reason I'm here is to make sure the killer doesn't harm
you
.”

He jumped back and landed on the sandaled foot of a female dancer. “Sorry,” he mumbled as she glared at him. We moved away to the edge of the floor.

“The killer is here? Who is it?” His near-sighted eyes scanned the audience for an unfriendly face.

The music ended abruptly and the emcee began announcing the scholarship participants.

As the men in black tails guided their lovely companions garbed in multicolored satin gowns out onto the floor, I pointed to the couple standing dead center.

Stan looked in that direction. “See, I knew it was Boris all along.”

“No, not Boris,” I said. “Paula.”

“What about Paula?” He shot me a sideways look, making me wonder if that one glass of champagne had addled my brain. Was I grasping at straws?

From my purse I extracted the tiny crystal. He reached for it and I dropped it into his palm.

Stan rotated the stone in the light beaming from the overhead chandeliers. “Where did you get the diamond?”

“It fell off of Paula's dress. I think she's been smuggling diamonds on her ball gowns. Replacing some of the Swarovski crystals with real gems.”

His eyes opened wide. “Paula's been smuggling diamonds? Is the killer after her?”

I wanted to shake Stan. Dancing seemed to have diminished his analytical abilities.

“No, it means the killer
is
her. At least I think she could be the killer. Anyway, we need to keep her occupied until Tom arrives to question her. I left a message for him so he should be here any minute.”

“Once they finish dancing, she could disappear out of sight. For good,” Stan said. “Tom will never be able to find her. You saw how crowded it was a few minutes ago. It's wall-to-wall bodies now.”

I glanced around the room. He was right. Once she left the floor, we'd never be able to get close enough to stop her from getting away. Strains of a waltz began. Boris positioned Paula directly in front of us. He dipped her backward. Even upside down, she exuded complete poise.

Stan held up the diamond in front of her eyes. Paula blinked once then as Boris whirled her across the room, she sneered at me, her heavily lashed eyes scornful. The waltz music ended then the strains of a foxtrot filled the room. There was only one way to keep Paula from disappearing forever.

I grabbed Stan's hand and yanked him on to the floor.

“C'mon, it's our turn to dance.”

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FORTY-EIGHT

* * * *

It was difficult to tell who was more stunned by our appearance on the dance floor: my partner, the judges, Paula, or me. Stan astutely realized that if we didn't start moving, we would be run over. Dancers don't let anything or anyone get in their way and a couple of clueless amateurs could become road kill in seconds.

We began with the foxtrot, which I easily followed, so my first thought was that Bobby's lessons finally paid off. Stan led me in a promenade past one judge whose jaw dropped down to the notepad he used for scoring. For one brief irrational moment, I wondered how we would be scored then my thoughts returned to the issue at hand.

Boris deftly partnered Paula who was making a valiant attempt to maintain the strict posture and head positioning required in standard dance, but every now and then she would briefly check out our location. Boris seemed clueless and intent only on leading and succeeding.

A cloud of pink feathers landed on my nose and I sneezed into Stan's shoulder. Who the heck selected a dress that included a marabou-lined cape? Was it designed for show or to eliminate the competition?

Stan maneuvered us into a position only a few feet from our quarry. The music switched from the upbeat foxtrot into the sultry tempo of the tango. My first tango.

I couldn't believe how easy it was to follow Stan. He had truly mastered the beautiful dance that originated in Argentina. We gradually caught up to Boris and Paula. Her eyes were so dark with fury they matched the cobalt blue of her gown. Boris led her into a complicated maneuver. Without breaking her stride Paula stretched her leg out in the shape of a fan, spun it around, and bam!

I crashed to the floor in a puddle of silver silk. One would think the music would stop when a dancer is felled by another dancer, but the other couples swept past, probably ecstatic that there was one less competitor to worry about. Not that anyone would consider us to be competition. The emcee was yelling something over the microphone but we ignored him.

Stan jerked me to my feet just in time for the last dance event. Quickstep. We needed to be speedy as well as vigilant to ensure that Paula didn't quickstep out the door. Stan discovered the only way I could follow him, without tripping him, was to skip around the room. A few bystanders laughed and pointed us out to their companions. My ego wasn't at stake here, but lives certainly could be. Boris's long legs loped across the floor and Paula amazingly kept up with him.

For a killer, she was one heck of a dancer.

Stan and I caught up to the dazzling pair right as the music stopped. The men bowed and the females curtseyed. So did I. Unfortunately since I'd never been presented to the queen, I'd never learned the art of getting back up from a curtsey. It didn't help that the heel of my shoe caught in the hem of my gown. Stan fiddled with my dress, removed my shoe and finally lifted me up under the arms. By the time I was upright again, Paula was almost out the door.

Since the scholarship event was the last competition until later that evening, dancers and viewers swarmed toward the open doorway. Stan grabbed my hand and I followed as he veered through the crowd. He had definitely missed his calling as a football half-back.

We reached the hallway. To my left, I caught a fleeting glimpse of a blue skirt. Paula must have ducked into the room where the dance costumes were sold. To my right, Tom Hunter, dressed in a black tux, was headed in our direction. With official help close at hand, I rushed into the costume room. Stan followed a few steps behind me.

Paula stood next to the table where Irina, seated in a chair, was sewing embroidery on a gown. I should be able to stall her until Tom arrived.

“The police are on their way, Paula. It's all over for you.”

“It's not over until the fat lady sings, Laurel. And you're not going to be singing any time soon.”

Paula grabbed the sewing shears from the worktable and the next thing I knew, her arm was wrapped around my throat, the sharp point of the long metal blade caressing my neck.

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FORTY-NINE

* * * *

The first thought that crossed my mind as the blade of the enormous pair of sewing shears pressed against my throat, was that nobody better move, especially me. My second thought was that Paula was a bitch. What was with that “fat lady” remark?

I shifted slightly and the dagger sharp point pricked my skin. I cried out when a crimson drop landed on my dress. Tom suddenly appeared in the doorway. Although my knight was dressed in a tuxedo instead of shining armor, I felt confident he would rescue me.

Tom addressed my captor in a soothing voice. “Paula, drop the scissors. You don't want to hurt anyone.”

“It's too late for me,” she responded. “And for her.”

No, it wasn't. Not for me, at least. All she had to do was let me go and everything would be hunky dory.

Tom took a step in our direction. Paula tightened her grip and another drop of blood fell on my dress. I didn't need a mirror to glimpse the panic in my eyes. I could see it reflected on Tom's face.

“Let her go. I merely want to talk to you to clarify a few things. None of this is necessary, Paula.”

She shook her head and her chandelier rhinestone earrings grazed my cheek. Ouch! Even her jewelry was dangerous.

“C'mon, Paula,” Stan said, “if you hurt Laurel, the judges definitely won't award you the scholarship trophy. And you were the best dancer by far.”

My captor loosened her grip. “Boris and I did do well, didn't we? If you two hadn't screwed everything up, I'd be accepting my first place trophy right now. First it was Dimitri, then Yuri. Why is everyone out to get me?”

I shifted my stance and Paula tightened her hold. She must work out a lot because I wasn't going anywhere. A familiar face appeared in the doorway.

“Darling, what's going on?” her husband asked. He stood there, a bemused expression on his face.

Paula sighed. “Oh, Richard, I'm so sorry. I did it for you, my love.”

The pieces of this intricate puzzle finally fell into place.

“Dimitri figured out you were smuggling diamonds on your ball gowns, didn't he?” I accused her. “That's why you killed him.”

Richard's face turned a mottled shade of purple. “What are you talking about? Are you accusing my wife of murder?”

“Darling, please calm down. I don't want you to have another heart attack.”

She sounded so concerned I thought I might have misjudged her. Then she increased her pressure on the scissors resting against my carotid artery.

Her husband fell into an empty chair by the doorway. “I don't understand,” he faltered. Confusion marred his face.

“I did it to protect you, darling. Dimitri became suspicious of my insistence on buying ball gowns only from Didier. One day he examined a stone that fell off a dress. That's when he realized that some of the stones sewn on the dresses were diamonds not just crystals.”

“He insisted on a piece of the action, didn't he?” Tom asked gently.

The hand holding the scissors against my throat quivered, which did nothing for the tremors coursing through my own body.

“He threatened to inform the police, so I gave him one of the dresses, hoping he would consider it payment for his silence. Then a month later, when we were in the cloakroom, he made another demand. He said he would turn Richard and me in to the authorities if I didn't give him more diamonds.

“I was disgusted with his greed and I totally lost it. I grabbed the first thing I could find—Laurel's shoe, which was lying on the bench. He turned away and I smacked him on the back of his head. Hard. He yelled and cursed then walked out rubbing his scalp. A little blood oozed out of the wound, but I never thought it would result in his death.”