Read The Nutcracker Ballet Mystery Online
Authors: Carolyn Keene
was trying to click in her mind. Then she remembered.
“Grace Turner. G. T.!” Nancy said excitedly. Twirling
around, she retrieved her purse from the top of the
desk.
“G. T.?” Bess asked in a puzzled voice.
Nancy dug in her purse and pulled out the lace
handkerchief. “They’re the initials on the handkerchief
I found on the stage after the fire.”
Madame’s head snapped up. “You’re not suggesting
that Grace Turner was involved in the fire? Why, that’s
crazy!”
“You’ve really flipped, Nancy,” Bess said. “Grace
would have to be . . . umm . . . over fifty years old
now.”
“Wait a second,” George cut in. “Maybe it’s not
Grace, but someone who wants us to think it’s Grace.”
“Well, there’s one way to find out.” Nancy turned to
Madame. “May I borrow this picture?” she asked.
“Why, certainly,” the directress replied. “But please
take good care of it. It’s my last one.”
Just then, Nancy heard a creak outside in the
hallway. She glanced over at the door. It was halfway
shut. Putting her finger to her lips, she signaled the
others to be quiet, then tiptoed to the door. Carefully,
she put her hand on the knob and flung it open. The
hall was empty.
“Is anyone else here at the school besides Mrs.
Wolaski?” Nancy asked Madame.
“Not that I know of,” the directress said. “Shana
should be arriving shortly to try on her costume.”
Bess giggled. “Maybe it was the ghost of Grace
Turner,” she said.
“Right,” Nancy muttered to herself. Maybe her ideas
about Madame Dugrand’s old rival had been a little
farfetched, but at this point, Nancy wasn’t going to rule
out anything.
After helping Madame straighten the rest of the
office, Bess, Nancy, and George went back out into the
hall.
“What now?” Bess asked.
“We’re off to the police station,” Nancy replied,
heading toward the front door.
“To report the theft?” George asked, puzzled.
Nancy chuckled. “I doubt the police would care that
an old picture was taken. No, we’re going to find out
more about Grace Turner.”
Half an hour later, Nancy, Bess, and George were in
Chief McGinnis’s office at the police station.
“I’ll be glad to have our technician do an age
progression on this,” the chief said, holding the picture
up. “We will have to blow the photo up first, though, so
it’ll be a bit grainy.”
“What’s an age progression?” Bess asked.
“Well, it’s a process in which a computer scans a
photo and is able to show what a person might look like
however many years from now you want,” Chief
McGinnis explained. “It’s a technique that’s been used
to track children who have been missing a long time.”
“That’s neat,” George said. “So we’ll be able to tell
what Grace Turner looks like now.”
The chief laughed. “Or what the computer thinks
she should look like, anyway.”
“That’s what I need.” Nancy had already given him a
summary of what was going on at the school. “When
will it be ready?”
“How about tomorrow afternoon?” The chief
grinned at Nancy’s impatient look. “I’m afraid the
technician isn’t even here on Sunday, so you’ll have to
hold your horses.”
“Okay. We’ll pick it up tomorrow.” Nancy thanked
the police officer, and the girls left the office.
“Where are we going now?” George asked.
Bess pulled a face. “Let me guess. Back to the dance
school, right?”
Nancy grinned. “How’d you guess? I want to keep
an eye on things. Besides, I have lots of work to do as
prop mistress. But we’ll stop off at Yogurt Heaven for
lunch, my treat.”
“Thanks.” Bess sighed. “I’ll need the energy.
Knowing Mrs. Wolaski, she’ll have plenty of sewing for
me to do.”
“So why do you think the snowmobiler tried to run
us over?” George asked Nancy an hour later. The two
girls were in the prop room, painting red and white
stripes on the pillars. Nancy was standing on top of two
boxes, trying to reach the top of a pillar.
“My guess is that the person was trying to scare us
off.” Nancy bent down and dipped her brush in the red
paint. “Unless they really were trying to hurt one of
us,” she added grimly. “After all, with Bess or me out of
the way, it would help foul up the production. There
are only four more days until the dress rehearsal.”
George looked up at Nancy and a drip of paint
splattered on her cheek. “Hey!” George laughed. “Let’s
keep it on the pillars, okay?” Then her tone grew
serious. “You know, until the snowmobile thing,
nobody has really gotten hurt. But the snowmobile”—
she shuddered—“could have broken both Bess’s legs.”
“Mmmm.” Nancy stopped painting. “Well, if our
culprits’ plan is to sabotage The Nutcracker, then we’ve
foiled them. So far, everybody’s worked hard to keep
the show on schedule. That means whoever the culprits
are, they’re starting to get desperate.”
George nodded. “You’re right. Now we just have to
figure out who did it.”
“Who did what?” a deep voice asked from the
doorway.
Nancy swung around. Lawrence was leaning against
the door frame, his hands clasped behind him. For a
second, butterflies fluttered in Nancy’s stomach as she
wondered what he was holding. Another tire iron?
“We were trying to figure out who broke into the
school,” George answered.
Lawrence snorted. “That’s easy. Ms. Drew and Ms.
Marvin broke into the school. Then they made up a
stupid story about some mouse attacking them.”
Nancy jumped lightly off the boxes. “Oh, really?”
she raised one brow. “Then who locked us in the prop
room? You?”
Lawrence stepped forward, his arms still behind
him. “You’ve already accused me once. Why don’t you
use your imagination? Maybe you girls locked
yourselves in on purpose.”
“Why, that’s a clever thought.” Nancy pretended to
be surprised. She moved closer to George and out of
Lawrence’s reach. Even though he had a teasing smile
on his face, she wasn’t sure what he was up to. “And
why would we do that?”
Lawrence shrugged. “To make me look bad. I think
you’re working with our prima ballerina, Ms. Shana
Edwards. And I know she would do anything to keep
me down.”
Suddenly, the dancer thrust one hand from behind
his back and into Nancy’s face. Startled, Nancy jumped
backward, knocking into George. Wide eyes and a
wicked, toothy grin stared back at Nancy. It was the
nutcracker doll.
Lawrence laughed. “Nasty-looking little fellow, isn’t
he? But he’s as good as new. So how about putting him
in a safe place until Thursday’s dress rehearsal? I don’t
want to have to fix him again.”
“You didn’t need to scare us with him like that.”
George snatched the doll from Lawrence’s hands.
Just then, a scream from the hall made all of them
freeze.
“That’s Shana!” Lawrence yelled, a horrified
expression on his face. Turning, he dashed out the prop
room door. Nancy and George raced down the hall
behind him.
Nancy could see Shana standing at the top of the
basement steps. The pretty dancer’s green eyes were
wide with horror as she cradled her Sugar Plum Fairy
costume in her arms.
“Just look what someone has done to my costume!”
Shana cried. “It’s ruined.” She held up the once-
beautiful dress. Its satin bodice had been cut to shreds!
“Shana! Are you all right?” Lawrence asked, throwing
his arms around the frightened dancer.
Tears welled in Shana’s eyes. “Yes,” she said shakily.
“But when I went to the wardrobe room to try on my
costume, I found it thrown into a corner.” Shana held
up the costume again. Jagged lines zigzagged through
the satin bodice, and the wispy silver tulle skirt had
been yanked from the top.
“It’s been cut with very sharp scissors,” Nancy said,
fingering the ruined dress.
“What’s going on?” Madame Dugrand came up
behind Nancy. When she saw the costume, she let out
a cry. “Shana! Your beautiful costume! Who would do
such a thing?”
“Her costume?” a trembling voice broke in from
down the hall. “Has something happened to it?”
Nancy turned to see Mrs. Wolaski come out of
studio A, grasping Michelle Edwards’s hand for
balance. Michelle was dressed in her Clara nightgown.
One sleeve had just been pinned on. Behind Michelle
and the wardrobe mistress, Bess was carrying a tape
measure and pin cushion.
Mrs. Wolaski’s face paled as she hobbled toward
Shana. Reaching out, she gently took the shredded
garment from Shana’s arms.
“All my hard work destroyed,” she said in a quivery
voice.
Madame put her arm around Mrs. Wolaski’s
shoulders. “Oh, Gertrude. I’m so sorry.”
Michelle burst out crying and flung herself at her
sister. “Shana. What are you going to do? Now you
can’t be the Sugar Plum Fairy, and—”
“Hey!” Bess broke in. She knelt down and put an
arm around Michelle. “Have some faith. Mrs. Wolaski
and I will perform a little magic and make your sister a
whole new costume.”
“Really?” Michelle sniffed.
“Really,” Bess replied. But when Nancy glanced
over at the white-haired wardrobe mistress, she wasn’t
sure the older woman was up to it. Her shoulders were
slumped in defeat.
“This whole thing was directed at me,” Mrs. Wolaski
said, looking at Madame. “Everyone knows I spent
weeks designing and making this costume.”
“No. You’re wrong,” Shana said bitterly. “It’s me the
person’s after.” She looked directly at Lawrence. “I
think you did this to hurt me. You and Darci.”
“Now wait just a minute,” Lawrence retorted. “I’m
sick of being Mr. Bad Guy. This show is just as
important to me. Why would I ruin it?”
George spoke up. “Because you and Darci are both
jealous of Shana.”
“And you and Darci were the only two who weren’t
at the gala all night,” Bess chimed in. “You had to be
the ones who broke into the school and rammed our
car.”
Lawrence turned bright red. “That’s crazy. You want
to know what Darci and I did last night?”
“Yes,” Shana replied in a quiet voice.
Everyone stared expectantly at Lawrence. For a
second, he looked around at all the faces. Then he let
out a sigh.
“All right. I didn’t want to say anything, because
Darci made me promise not to. She’s afraid of what
might happen, and . . .” He hesitated. “Well, she’s kind
of embarrassed.”
“Excuse me,” Mrs. Wolaski interrupted. “But I’d
better go downstairs and work on Shana’s costume.
Maybe the skirt can be saved, and I can take a bodice
from another costume, and ...” Turning, she started
down the steps, muttering to herself.
“I don’t know why you’re all so mad at Darci,”
Michelle said suddenly. “She’s still at home. Dad’s
bringing her later. She couldn’t have cut up the
costume.”
Shana sighed. “You just don’t understand, Michelle.”
“Maybe I should finish fitting Michelle’s costume,”
Bess suggested. Taking the younger girl’s hand, she led
her back to studio A.
“So go on, Lawrence,” Shana said, her voice
trembling a bit.
He held up one hand. “Look, this isn’t easy. I feel
like I’m betraying Darci.”
“Well, someone needs to explain what’s going on,”
Nancy said. “The dress rehearsal is four days away.
Whoever is trying to ruin the show is getting
desperate.”
Lawrence shook his head. “All I can do is tell you
what happened and hope you’ll believe me for once.”
“I’ll believe you, Lawrence,” Madame said, patting
his arm. “You’ve been like a son to me. I can’t imagine
you doing anything to hurt me.”
“Thanks.” Lawrence gave her an appreciative grin,
then glanced at Shana.
Madame motioned them all to follow her down the
hall. “I think we’d better discuss this in my office,” she
suggested.
When everyone had piled into the office, Lawrence
took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll admit that, when Shana
came back and Madame asked her to help with the
choreography, I was plenty mad. I even tried to make
Shana look bad at rehearsals, which I’m sorry for. It