The Nutcracker Ballet Mystery

“I just love The Nutcracker Ballet!” George Fayne

declared. Opening a copy of the River Heights

morning newspaper, she showed her best friend,

Nancy Drew, the ad for the ballet. It was being

performed by Madame Dugrand’s Dance Academy, a

local ballet school.

“I’m glad we’re getting a chance to see the

performance this year,” George added as she pulled off

her lavender ski hat and shook out her short dark curls.

“Remember when we danced in it?” she asked Nancy.

“I sure do,” Nancy said, a smile on her face. “It must

have been about eight years ago. Whenever I think of

The Nutcracker, all I remember is Bess tripping over a

mouse tail and knocking both of us into the Christmas

tree.”

“We didn’t make very good soldiers, did we?” With a

chuckle, George folded the newspaper and put it back

on the dashboard of Nancy’s Mustang.

“Let’s hope Madame Dugrand’s latest students at

the dance school are more dedicated.” Nancy gave her

shoulder-length blond hair a toss as she started the

blue sports car. The two friends, who were both

eighteen years old, were heading out of the state park,

where they had just finished cross-country skiing.

“Bess couldn’t wait to get away from dance class,

remember?” Nancy went on. “All those arabesques and

plies were not her idea of fun.”

“That’s for sure,” George agreed. “Which is why I

can’t believe my crazy cousin Bess is actually working

at Madame Dugrand’s school today.”

Nancy gave George a puzzled look. “I thought she

was shopping for Christmas presents.”

“She’s helping sew costumes,” George said. “She

met Madame Dugrand at the mall the other day. They

started talking about The Nutcracker, and Madame

said she was afraid the show wasn’t going to be ready

on time.”

“Why?” Nancy raised her brows. “The dance school

puts on The Nutcracker every year, so don’t they

already have the costumes and props?”

“I think Bess is helping to alter some of the

costumes to fit the dancers,” George explained.

“Anyway, Madame told Bess that the rent for the

school unexpectedly went way up, and the building

needs a lot of repairs. I guess Madame is hoping this

year’s production will be super-sensational to help pay

for everything. So she wants the show to be perfect.

And you know what a soft touch Bess is. She

immediately volunteered to help with the costumes.”

“Mmmm,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “Plus, it was her

way of getting out of going cross-country skiing with

us.”

George laughed. “You’re probably right. Bess can

sew sitting down, so it won’t seem like work to her. I

also have a hunch Bess volunteered so she could hang

out with Shana Edwards.”

“Shana always was really nice,” Nancy agreed as she

passed a slower-moving car. “I guess we always knew

she’d be the one from River Heights to make it as a

ballerina in New York City. But The New York Ballet

Company performs their own Nutcracker. Wouldn’t

you think Shana would rather dance in that one?”

“Bess said Shana came back because Madame

Dugrand asked her to,” George explained. “Madame

hopes that having a famous alumna in the school’s

production will help make it a big success.”

“I hope she’s right,” Nancy said. “I’ve always liked

Madame Dugrand, and I know how important the

ballet school is to her.”

“Hey, why don’t we stop off there right now?”

George suggested. “We can surprise Bess, and take her

to lunch with us.”

“Good idea.” Nancy flipped on the turn signal and

made a right down Main Street. “I need to buy a ticket

to the gala in Shana’s honor, anyway.”

George sighed. “I wish I could go to the gala, too.

But the competitors’ party for the cross-country ski

race is that same night.”

“Maybe Shana will be there today,” Nancy said.

After turning into the parking lot of the dance school,

she pulled the Mustang into the first empty spot.

The school was located in a flat, rectangular building

that had once been a small warehouse. Madame

Dugrand had installed rows of tall windows into the

brick walls and added skylights to the roof. Inside,

she’d built two large dance studios, dressing rooms, an

office for herself, and a large recital hall.

“The place looks just like it always did,” George

remarked as the girls headed up the snowy walk to the

double front doors. Just then, she hit a patch of ice.

“Whoa!” she cried as her feet slipped underneath her.

Nancy grabbed her friend’s elbow, but it was too

late. George fell to the sidewalk with a plop. “Are you

okay?” Nancy asked. She couldn’t help but grin at her

friend’s disgruntled expression.

“Yeah,” George said. “I can’t believe it. I skied all

morning and never fell once.”

Nancy helped her friend up. “I don’t think it’s your

fault,” she said. “The sidewalk should’ve had sand or

salt on it. Remember how Madame was always so

careful? She didn’t want one of her precious ballerinas

to hurt themselves.”

“We’d better tell her, then,” George said, slapping

the snow off the back of her pants.

As they continued up the walk, Nancy saw that the

ice hadn’t been cleared from the steps, either. “This is

pretty dangerous,” she commented.

But George had already entered the building. When

Nancy stepped into the hall beside her friend, she

quickly noticed the chipping paint on the walls and the

scuffed linoleum floor.

“Brings back old memories, huh?” George said.

Nancy nodded. “Bess was right, though. The place is

a lot more run-down than I remember.”

“Repairs are expensive,” George said as the two of

them started down the hall. “And Bess told me that,

because of the rent increase, Madame’s strapped for

money. This year she’s been teaching most of the

classes herself, with help from some of the older

students, who get a tuition break.”

“That means less money coming in,” Nancy pointed

out. “Let’s hope for Madame Dugrand’s sake that

bringing Shana back will draw a huge crowd for The

Nutcracker.”

“Speaking of ballerinas,” George said, stopping in

the front foyer and looking around the empty halls,

“where is everyone?”

Nancy could hear the faint sound of piano music.

“They must be in class.”

“Bess is probably in the wardrobe room,” George

said.

“It was in the basement, right?” Nancy said. “Let’s

go look for her there.”

The girls started down the dimly lit stairs. Cobwebs

hung from the high ceiling.

“I don’t think I’d like to come down here alone,”

George whispered. “It’s kind of—”

“Who’s there?” someone called in a shrill voice,

cutting George off. An elderly woman with a cane

hobbled into the dark, narrow hall below. Stopping at

the foot of the stairs, she peered up at them through

round granny glasses. Her wispy, snow-white hair

looked like a halo around her forehead.

“I’m Nancy Drew,” Nancy said politely. “And this is

George Fayne. We’re here to see—”

“Nancy! George!” Bess exclaimed, coming out of the

wardrobe room and stopping beside the elderly

woman. “What a nice surprise. How was the skiing?”

“Great,” George said as she and Nancy made their

way down the rest of the steps. “We stopped by to see

if you wanted to have lunch with us.”

Bess glanced over at the elderly woman, then said

hesitantly, “I don’t know if I should. I’m in the middle

of putting lace on Clara’s nightgown.”

The white-haired woman smiled kindly. “Go eat,

dear. You deserve a break.”

“Oh, all right,” Bess said. “But first, I want to show

my friends your handiwork.” After introducing

Gertrude Wolaski to Nancy and George, Bess said,

“Mrs. Wolaski is the most talented seamstress in the

world.”

“Now, Bess,” Mrs. Wolaski said, shaking her head

modestly. “Don’t carry on.”

“I’m not carrying on,” Bess insisted. “You’re a

magician with a needle and thread.”

“That’s only because I spent thirty years of my life

sewing for my husband’s dry cleaning business,” Mrs.

Wolaski informed the girls.

Bess led the way down the short hall and into a

medium-sized room. Long fluorescent lights shone

down on several racks of costumes. Two sewing

machines were set up on large tables littered with

scissors, straight pins, and patterns. Spools of thread

were stored on racks on the walls, next to bolts of

many-colored fabrics.

Now that Nancy was standing next to the elderly

woman, she could see how tiny she was. Mrs. Wolaski’s

rounded shoulders and hunched back made her look

even smaller.

“How’d you get into the costume business?” Nancy

asked, waving at the rows of gowns, mice suits, soldier

uniforms, and ballet tutus.

Mrs. Wolaski laughed. “Well, I love the ballet.

About a month ago I was at a recital here at the school

and mentioned to Madame Dugrand that I used to

sew. And as you know, Madame can be very

persuasive. So I volunteered to help with the

Nutcracker costumes. Not that an old lady like me has

anything better to do.” The wardrobe mistress smiled.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must find Lawrence. He

promised to pick up more pink tulle for me yesterday.”

The girls said goodbye, then watched as Mrs.

Wolaski limped slowly back into the hall with the aid of

her cane.

When the woman had gone, Bess grabbed Nancy’s

hand. “I want you both to see the Sugar Plum Fairy

costume Mrs. Wolaski is making for Shana,” she said

excitedly. Riffling through a rack of costumes, Bess

pulled out a dress with a bodice of shimmering silver

satin and a skirt of wispy silver tulle. Clusters of pink

beads decorated both the shoulder straps and the skirt.

“It’s beautiful,” Nancy said, touching the gossamer

fabric.

“It looks expensive,” George commented. “I thought

Madame was trying to save money.”

“Shana’s costume had to be special, but we’re just

altering most of the others.” Bess hung up the Sugar

Plum costume, then pulled out a soldier uniform.

“Does this remind you of anything?” she asked, a

twinkle in her blue eyes. “Like opening night of The

Nutcracker when I stole the show?”

“Is that what you did?” Nancy teased as she and

George burst out laughing. “I thought you fell on

George and me, and we all knocked the big Christmas

tree over.”

“Well, maybe it was more like that.” Bess giggled,

then frowned slightly. “Let’s hope this year’s

Nutcracker is more successful. Nothing else seems to

be going right for Madame Dugrand.”

Nancy raised her brows. “You mean like the rent

increase?”

“It’s worse than just that,” Bess said. “A lot of little

things have been happening around here, and they’re

beginning to add up.”

“Like what?” George asked.

Bess’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Well, two girls

had toe shoes stolen from their lockers. And there’s

been a lot of bickering among the kids and parents, too,

about who got what part.”

“There was always grumbling,” Nancy reminded her.

“I mean, even though we weren’t very good dancers,