The Nutcracker Ballet Mystery (3 page)

the fire chief had probably been thorough, but maybe

he hadn’t looked beyond the cigarette. Even Nancy

wasn’t sure what she should be looking for. Had the

fire been deliberately set? Bess had said earlier that

strange things were going on at the school.

Unfortunately, except for a few scenery panels that

were being painted, the stage was empty. The firemen

had removed the torn curtain, and Nancy couldn’t find

anything that looked suspicious.

When she got back to Madame Dugrand’s office,

Nancy found the ballet directress sitting at her desk, a

worried frown creasing her brow.

After Nancy bought a ticket to the gala, she said,

“I’m really sorry about the fire.”

Madame Dugrand forced a thin smile. “Oh, the fire

is just one more problem to add to a long list. Mrs.

Patterson, the mother who quit and took her daughter

with her, was in charge of the props for the show.”

Madame threw up her hands. “I just don’t have time to

organize the props. This year’s Nutcracker is turning

into a disaster.”

“Maybe I can help,” Nancy offered.

Madame Dugrand’s blue eyes brightened. “Do you

mean it? Oh, that would be wonderful, Nancy!” she

exclaimed.

“I’ll start tomorrow,” Nancy promised.

“I can’t thank you enough,” declared the directress,

getting to her feet. “Now, I must find Lawrence.”

“Who’s Lawrence?” Nancy asked.

“Lawrence Steele dances here at the school. He’ll be

the Cavalier dancing opposite the Sugar Plum Fairy.

He also teaches classes and helps me with the

maintenance of the building. He needs to get right to

work on correcting those fire code violations.”

Nancy frowned. “That reminds me. Do you know

which fire alarm was set off?” she asked, following

Madame Dugrand into the hallway.

The directress nodded. “The smoke detector over

the stage went off automatically.”

That didn’t sound suspicious, Nancy thought. Maybe

she should quit hunting for a mystery.

When Nancy reached studio A, Shana was standing

next to a small, pinch-faced man in his early twenties.

He was sitting at a big, black upright piano, frowning at

the sheet of music propped in front of him. In the

middle of the bare wooden floor, nine girls about

sixteen years old were limbering up.

“See that girl over there?” Bess said when Nancy

rejoined her and George. The cousins were sitting on a

bench in front of a mirrored wall. Skylights brightened

the windowless room.

“Which one?” Nancy asked as she sat down.

“The one with the purple tights.” Bess pointed

toward a pretty girl with shiny chestnut hair and green

eyes. “That’s Darci Edwards.”

“That’s right. There are three Edwards sisters,”

George remarked. “They all look alike.”

Bess nodded. “And all three of them are talented.

Darci’s dancing Dewdrop in the Dance of the

Flowers.”

“And who’s that?” Nancy asked, nodding toward the

piano player. “I didn’t see him outside.”

“That’s Roger Lutz, the accompanist,” Bess replied.

“He only works here part-time. He’s still in music

school, I think. He’s playing piano for Madame to get

more experience. Maybe he arrived after the fire

alarm.”

“He looks like a mouse,” George said.

“He’s quiet like one, too,” Bess added. “At least, he

never talks to anyone. Madame Dugrand likes him,

though. She’d been using tapes in her classes, but real

music is so much better. Then Roger showed up about

a month ago, saying he needed the experience. Plus, he

knew Madame had contacts in New York for when he

graduated from music school.”

Just then Shana looked their way. Nancy waved.

Shana smiled and waved back, then walked over.

“You’re just in time. The girls and I are going to

warm up at the barre.” She pointed to the long wooden

pole attached to the far wall. “Then we’ll put on our toe

shoes and do some floor work.”

“It sounds exciting!” Bess gushed.

“Believe me, it’s work.” Shana chuckled as she

gracefully walked to the center of the room. When she

clapped her hands, each dancer found a place at the

barre.

Shana went to the shorter demonstration barre at

the side of the room. She nodded at Roger, and he

began playing a slow, dramatic piece.

Placing her hand lightly on the barre, Shana slowly

extended her right leg in front of her.

“Shana makes everything look so easy,” Nancy

whispered, leaning closer to Bess.

Her friend giggled. “Only we know how hard it is. I

never could get my leg up on that stupid— Oh, no!”

Bess suddenly gasped.

Nancy swung her head around to look at Shana. The

barre had pulled clean away from the wall, crashing

down on Shana’s support leg. With a cry of pain, the

dancer toppled backward, landing awkwardly on the

hard, wooden floor.

Nancy, Bess, and George raced to the fallen dancer’s

side. Roger Lutz, the accompanist, reached Shana first.

“Take the other end of the pole,” he told the girls in

a low voice. Together, the four of them lifted the barre

off Shana’s ankle.

“Are you all right?” Nancy asked, helping Shana sit

up.

“I—I think so,” Shana said uncertainly. She probed

her ankle with her fingers. “Just bruised,” she added,

taking a shaky breath.

Meanwhile, Shana’s students had formed a half-

circle around her.

“Can you stand up?” Bess asked.

“I’ll try,” Shana said. She extended a hand toward

Nancy. Roger supported her other elbow, and together

they helped Shana to her feet. As soon as she was

standing, all of her students applauded . . . all except

Shana’s sister, Darci, Nancy noticed. Darci’s arms

remained folded across her chest. Then she turned

abruptly and went back to the other barre.

Nancy was puzzled. She would have thought Shana’s

sister would be the most concerned.

“Careful, Shana,” one of the other students said.

“You don’t want to pull a tightened muscle.”

“You’re right, April,” Shana agreed. She was still

holding on to Nancy’s arm, her weight off her bruised

leg. “I think I’d better reschedule this class for later.

You girls can go. I’ll post the new time after I talk to

Madame Dugrand.”

“What about me?” Roger said in a sulky voice. “I

may not be available later.”

Nancy looked up at him. He had thin, brown hair,

and a sparse mustache dusted his upper lip. George

was right, Nancy thought. He really did look like a

mouse.

“I understand,” Shana said, nodding. “I’ll just have

to use a tape, if that’s the case.”

“Fine,” Roger grunted. Not bothering to hide his

annoyance, he returned to the piano and quickly

gathered up his music. The other students were

already collecting the dance bags, leg warmers, towels,

and shawls that they’d left scattered about the room.

“What’s his problem?” George asked Shana when

Roger and the students had left. She and Nancy were

helping Shana over to the bench.

“The same problem everyone else around here has,”

Shana replied, limping awkwardly.

“Madame calls it preperformance jitters,” Bess

explained as Shana sat down.

Shana shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s more than

that, Bess. I’ve been in quite a few shows both here

and in New York. Things can get pretty tense before a

performance all right, but I’ve never experienced

anything like this.”

“I guess the fire didn’t help,” George said. “And the

barre falling like that was kind of strange. But when

things get run down, as they have in this place,

accidents do happen.”

“That might explain the falling ballet barre, George,”

Nancy said, “but it doesn’t explain the stealing Bess

mentioned.”

“Stealing?” Shana’s brows raised. “I hadn’t heard

about that.”

“Two days ago. Tiffany Patterson’s toe shoes

disappeared, then Maria Ramirez’s tutu,” Bess

explained.

“So that’s why Mrs. Patterson was so mad,” Nancy

said thoughtfully. “She told Madame Dugrand that the

fire was the last straw. Then she quit as the prop

manager, and she also withdrew Tiffany from the

school.”

“Oh, no!” Bess exclaimed. “That’s the third student

this week.” She sighed. “Mrs. Wolaski said the parents

didn’t think the level of professionalism was high

enough.”

“With Mrs. Patterson gone, who’ll be in charge of

props?” Shana asked.

Nancy grinned. “Me. And I’m sure my good friend

George will help when she’s not training for her race.”

Nancy threw an arm around George’s shoulders, and

all three girls looked at George expectantly.

“Okay, okay,” George said with a laugh. “You guys

would probably toss me into a snowdrift if I said no.”

“Well, at least that problem’s solved.” Shana sighed.

“I mean, I sure want to help Madame. I owe her so

much. But I don’t want to get injured doing it.” She

glanced back at the fallen barre.

“I don’t blame you.” Nancy walked over to the

wooden pole. Kneeling down, she examined the ends

of the barre, then looked up at the wall from which it

had fallen.

“I don’t think the barre came away from the wall by

accident,” Nancy said with a frown. Standing up, she

turned to face the others. “Someone deliberately

loosened it.”

“How can you tell?” Shana asked.

“There should have been four screws on each of the

brackets that hold the barre to the wall.” Nancy

recrossed the room and showed the girls the screws

she’d found. “All together there should be eight screws,

but I only found these two.”

“Maybe the others rolled away or something,” Bess

suggested.

Nancy shook her head. “One or two screws might

roll away. But not six. Someone removed most of them,

knowing that the remaining ones couldn’t support a

dancer’s weight.”

“Are you saying someone tried to hurt me on

purpose?” Shana asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Nancy shook her head. “I don’t know. Were you the

only teacher using studio A today?”

Shana thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I

think so.”

“Maybe the fire and the falling barre are related,”

George said. “Someone set the fire, and when the place

was empty, they sneaked in and unscrewed the

screws.”

“But who would do that?” Bess asked. “And why?”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Shana added, rubbing her

ankle. “Why would someone want to hurt me?”

“I don’t know,” Nancy admitted. “But I intend to

find out.”

Shana looked relieved. “Thanks, Nancy. I’m sure

you can do it. Even in New York, I remember reading

about one of the cases you solved.”

“Just remember, though, that my being on this case

is strictly unofficial,” Nancy cautioned everyone.

“Madame Dugrand has enough on her mind—I don’t

want her thinking she has a case of serious crime on

her hands, too. And there might not be anything going

on here after all.”

Slowly, Shana got to her feet. “Well, I’d better put

some ice on this. I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass

on lunch.”

“Do you want some help?” Bess asked. But Shana

shook her head as she walked slowly to the piano to get

her shawl and leg warmers.

“If you see or hear anything suspicious,” Nancy

called, “let me know, okay?”

“I will,” Shana promised as George opened the door

for her. Shana said goodbye, then hobbled down the

hall and into the locker room.

“Her leg looks really sore,” Bess said in a concerned

voice. “I hope she’s okay.”

“And I hope this doesn’t sound callous,” George

said, “but if I don’t eat soon, / may not be okay.”

Bess grinned. “Now you’re talking, George! Let’s go

to Yogurt Heaven, just like old times.”

A short time later, Nancy was parking her car in

front of Yogurt Heaven, a longtime favorite hangout for

students at the dance academy.

“I’m a little surprised this place is still here,” George

said, climbing out of Nancy’s blue Mustang.

“It hasn’t changed too much, either,” Bess assured

George. “They still serve the same fabulous low-cal

yogurt that they did when we were students at