The Red Slippers (11 page)

“It makes sense,” George agreed. “Sebastian said that if Maggie doesn't dance tonight, the show will be a catastrophe.”

“So, who would want to sabotage Jamison?” I asked.

“Everyone in the company,” George said, half-jokingly.

“It's true,” Bess said. “We've seen him insult practically everyone and we've only been around for two days. Imagine listening to that every day on this tour.”

“Or longer,” George said. “He teaches at the academy, where a lot of these dancers are students. Some of them have heard him yelling for years.”

“That leaves a lot of suspects, and the theater opens in two hours. What are we going to do?” asked Bess.

I looked at her. I knew what we had to do, but my friends weren't going to like it.

A few minutes later, I knocked on Jamison's office door.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” George asked me for the third time in five minutes.

“It's all we can do,” I said. “He's the only one who might have an idea who's behind this.”

The door flew open. As soon as Jamison saw us, he rolled his eyes. “I thought I told you to get out.”

“This is personal,” I said. “Whoever is sabotaging Maggie wants you to fail. You're the real target for all of it.”

Jamison shook his head. “Let's say I go along with your theory that what's been happening to Maggie is more than hazing. Why would anyone want me to fail?”

“Seriously?” George asked.

“You abuse people all day, telling them they're terrible at the thing they love the most, and it's never occurred to you that someone might want revenge?” Bess asked indignantly.

“You think what I do is abuse?” Jamison said, laughing.

“Yes,” George said.

Jamison turned to me. “How did you feel when I questioned your abilities as a detective, when I talked down to you and needled you?”

“Angry,” I admitted.

“And what else?”

I thought back to the fire I'd felt rise inside of me when he had called me a kid playing at detective. “I wanted to prove you wrong.”

Jamison nodded. “I inspire greatness. Do you know what it takes to be great?” he asked.

“Practice,” I said.

“Determination,” George said.

“Discipline,” Bess added.

“Yes, all of those,” Jamison said. “And how do you keep pushing, keep going when you're tired? It's not by someone telling you you're doing well; it's by someone telling you that you can do better.”

I understood what he was saying, and I knew that there was some truth to it. I had seen Maggie dance better after he had laid into her. I had even felt my own passion rise in the face of his dismissiveness, but I still wasn't convinced.

Bess wasn't either. “There have to be other ways to help besides telling them how awful they are.”

Jamison shrugged. “I've turned out a lot of great dancers. When you've coached dozens of people to the apex of their abilities, we'll talk again about methodology.”

“But what if someone with the potential to be the best can't take that kind of pressure and quits?” I asked.

A cloud passed over Jamison's face, but he quickly regained his composure. “Then that person could never truly be great, no matter what you thought, no matter how much you believed in them.”

“Well, someone doesn't agree with your methods,” I said, “and they're sabotaging your show. They started by harassing Maggie because they knew that without her the performance would flop. And when that didn't work, they tried to shut down the entire production by causing the scenery to fall. We don't know what else they're planning, but odds are it's something!”

“What do you want me to do?” Jamison asked. “Go around apologizing to everyone for making them feel bad?”

“It's probably too late for that,” I said, “but it's not a bad idea. I think you should delay the show. Even if it's only by an hour, I would have a better shot of figuring out who did this.”

“I can't do that. Oscar won't wait an hour for a show to start. If for some reason he did decide to wait, he'd be so prejudiced against the show it wouldn't matter how good it is; he'd still write it off as unprofessional.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Jamison kept talking.

“And I know Oscar. If he writes this show off, then he writes off Maggie as well. Do you want that? You know what a bad review will do to her career, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Destroy it.”

“Doors open in thirty minutes.”

I was at a loss. I was tired. I was hungry. My foot hurt. I was out of leads and I was out of time.

Thirty minutes later Ned was waiting for us in the lobby with our tickets. He looked handsome wearing a tie under his sweater. My friends and I had gone back to Bess's house and changed into more appropriate clothing. I wore a simple black dress, while Bess had chosen a gorgeous purple gown with a beaded top. She was always the most fashionable of us. George, who hated dresses, was wearing a dark-green jumpsuit Bess had convinced her to wear. Under any other circumstances, we'd be taking pictures, but none of us felt like celebrating. While we had been changing I had hoped that I would have a flash of inspiration and suddenly know who the suspect was, but I was still flummoxed. I was convinced something horrible would happen during the show and all I would be able to do was watch. Instead of looking forward to the performance, I was dreading it.

“Nancy! Are you okay?” Ned said, rushing over to me.

I quickly told him about the tree falling, and George reenacted my dive out of the way.

“I'm fine,” I said. “It's just bruised. I'll be walking on two feet again in a few days.”

“Well, please tell me you at least caught the person responsible.”

I shook my head.

Ned kissed the top of my head gently. “Well, there's still time,” he said. “I believe you can do this.”

All the determination that had wilted out of me earlier came roaring back. I wished Jamison had been there to see this. There were other ways to inspire people to do their best aside from yelling and screaming.

I looked up at Ned. “Thank you,” I said sincerely.

“Of course,” he said. “Anyway, I don't know anything about this case, except what you told me last night on the phone, but I'm ready to do whatever you need. What's our next step?”

I bit my thumb as I thought. “When we were investigating, we focused entirely on Maggie,” I said. “We need to rethink everything, concentrating on Jamison. Are there any assumptions we're making?”

George tapped her foot as she thought, while Bess looked at the ceiling. My eyes wandered as I let my mind drift over everything that had happened. A short, balding man dressed in a three-piece suit strode into the theater. I knew instantly that this was Oscar LeVigne. Miss Taylor quickly came up to him and introduced herself.

Oscar gave her a once-over and then turned away. Miss Taylor hurried after him.

“Maggie Rogers, the star of the performance, got her start right here in River Heights. At my school,” she said. “You know how important the early training is. All the habits are established in the first four years.”

“Excuse me,” Oscar said. “I need to find the men's room.” He walked away, leaving Miss Taylor blushing in embarrassment.

“We assumed the culprit was Maggie's peer,” I said. “That it was another dancer.”

“Yeah . . . ,” George said.

“But if this is about Jamison, wouldn't it make more sense that it would be one of his peers?”

“You're not saying what I think you're saying, are you, Nancy?” Bess asked. “You know Miss Taylor couldn't do something like this.”

“I know it seems like a long shot, but think about it, Bess,” I said. “She's around the theater all the time. She can go anywhere she likes. She had access to the poster files.”

“But Maggie's her star student. Maggie doing well tonight will only help her. Why would she jeopardize that?” Bess asked.

“Jealousy makes people do crazy things,” I said. “I doubt her dreams included teaching in a small town. She probably had bigger ambitions in her life too. Maybe she really wanted to be a choreographer. Sebastian said that all the teachers in the area applied to lead this tour. Maybe Miss Taylor applied, and she's mad that Jamison was selected instead of her.”

“You don't have proof,” Bess insisted. “You have no idea if Miss Taylor applied to choreograph this show.”

“We need to find out,” George said. “We have only a few minutes to pursue this lead.”

George was right. I made my way over to Miss Taylor. Ordinarily, I would carefully craft the tactic I was going to take, but I didn't have time to come up with an elaborate ruse this time. I was just going to have to wing it.

“After seeing Jamison with his dancers, I'm so glad you were my ballet teacher, instead of him,” I said as I approached her.

“That man is a monster,” Miss Taylor hissed. She quickly covered her mouth. “Forgive me. I shouldn't say that. It just drives me crazy that he's being rewarded, even though he tortures his students. Some of us nurture our students. We should be the ones showing off what we can do to Oscar LeVigne, not the man who caused one of his students to suffer a nervous breakdown within two months of joining the New York City Ballet.”

My head shot up. Jamison and the New York City Ballet . . . I knew I had heard something about that earlier, but I couldn't place it. Between the length of the day and the pain in my foot, my brain felt sluggish. I needed my friends to help me puzzle it out.

Around us the lights in the lobby started flashing.

“We'd better take our seats,” she said with a smile.

“I'll be there in a minute,” I said.

“Make it quick. You don't want to miss it.” She headed inside the theater. A few feet away, she stopped and turned back. “Nancy, please don't say anything about what I told you. I know the parents of the ballerina I mentioned are very protective of her privacy. They've worked really hard not to let it get out beyond a small group of people. I just happen to have a friend at the New York City Ballet who told me.”

I nodded as I hobbled back to my friends.

“What'd you find out?” Bess asked.

The ushers were giving us dirty looks. We had three minutes until curtain time.

“Well, she's definitely bitter,” I said. I hesitated for a second. I knew Miss Taylor had asked me not to tell, but this was a big clue and I needed their help. “This is a secret, but she said Jamison causes his students to have nervous breakdowns, including one who made it into the New York City Ballet,” I said.

“Didn't Maggie say that Jamison only had one student who made it into that company?” Bess asked.

All of a sudden it came back to me “Yes! Veronica, Sebastian's sister!” I said.

My brain raced, no longer sluggish, as the pieces snapped into place. Sebastian had easy access to Maggie's phone. He handled odd jobs for Jamison all the time. He easily could have altered the poster. He was also at the restaurant with us, giving him plenty of opportunity to leave the note.

“It's Sebastian!” I announced. “He's getting revenge on his sister's behalf.”

Inside, the house lights went down. The ushers shut the theater doors as the piano started playing.

George, Bess, and I all stared at one another in horror.