The Red Slippers (9 page)

“Just stay firm.”

Bess took a deep breath and marched toward Jamison. “Sir,” she said confidently. The alarm masked the nervous quiver I was sure was in her voice.

“Yes?” Jamison asked, feigning innocence.

“The law mandates that you evacuate during a fire alarm.”

“There's no fire. This is just an annoyance. Please go back to sweeping or whatever chore you fill your day with.”

Bess set her jaw defiantly. “If the fire department arrives and the building is not evacuated, they will issue a fine.”

“Serves you right for having a faulty fire alarm. Imagine if it had gone off during a performance!” Jamison hissed.

Bess narrowed her eyes. “I will make sure they issue the fine directly to you personally. And I should add that it's quite hefty.”

Jamison paused for a beat. Then, finally, “All right, everyone get your coats.” He turned to Bess. “These are dancers. Their muscles need to stay warm.”

If I hadn't been trying to maintain a low profile, I would have jumped for joy. A sense of pride swelled through me. The first time Bess had gone undercover, she'd blushed and stuttered, and her cover had been blown in less than thirty seconds. She had come a long way since then.

As the dancers filed out of the room, I discreetly slid down between the seats and hid. The floor was cold and dirty. There are times when being a detective isn't really glamorous.

Finally the theater was empty. Now the real waiting began. If the culprit wanted to rattle Maggie, he or she would use this opportunity to steal her lucky ballet shoes. All I needed to do was catch him or her in the act.

My back ached from being curled up under the seat. It felt like I'd been in this position for hours, but I knew it was closer to ten minutes. My dad, a famous attorney in River Heights, had taught me that willpower is never enough; you have to help yourself succeed. If I dwelled on how much I wanted to move, I'd be doomed. I started reciting the capitals of all the states in my head for distraction.

I was trying to remember the capital of South Dakota when I heard the door to the theater open. I held my breath. I couldn't see who it was, but I didn't dare risk being seen by popping my head up. It wouldn't be definitive proof unless I caught the culprit holding the ballet shoes. I heard the intruder slowly tiptoe down the center aisle toward the piano bench.

Then there was a long pause. I was desperate to know what was happening, but I forced myself to wait. Finally I heard the piano bench creak loudly.

That was my cue. I sprang to my feet, my knees protesting in pain after being curled up on the floor for so long.

I spun around. Leaning over the piano bench, ballet shoes in hand, was Fiona!

“STOP RIGHT THERE,” I SAID.
I knew that as soon as everyone realized there wasn't actually a fire, they'd come streaming back into the theater.

“W-what are you doing in here?” Fiona stammered.

“Maggie asked me to investigate who was harassing her, and I just caught you in the act.”

Fiona snorted. “That's so Maggie. You play a few pranks and she calls in a private detective. God, she is such a drama queen.”

“I'd say someone trying to ruin her opportunity to dance in front of Oscar and steal her big break warrants some extreme measures,” I said pointedly.

“You think I'm trying to dance in front of Oscar?” Fiona asked, horrified.

“Why else would you be harassing her” I asked.

“I wanted to dance
some
performances on this tour, so sure, I took her wig that one time and set up some fake wake-up calls, but I would die if I had to dance tonight. Oscar would eat me alive. I don't need to read about how
not
talented I am!”

“Then why did you install that app on her phone that made her late? You knew Jamison was going to bench her!” I countered.

“I didn't do that,” Fiona said. “I admit that I always enjoy seeing Jamison yell at her, but I can barely figure out how to put a filter on a photo. I wouldn't even know what app to download to do what you're talking about.”

Just then the door opened and dancers came pouring in, Jamison leading the way. He reminded me of the Pied Piper leading the children out of Hamelin.

“Everyone, back to your places!” he yelled. “We have wasted enough time.”

Maggie, Bess, and George rushed over to Fiona and me.

“All right!” George cheered. “Your trap worked!”

I looked at Fiona, suddenly doubtful I had caught the right somebody.

Before I could say anything, though, Maggie snatched her shoes out of Fiona's hands. She looked so angry, I was worried she might slap Fiona.

“You're going to pay for this,” Maggie hissed.

“I'm sorry I played some jokes on you, even though, really, you should be thanking me. You'll be hazed way worse when you join a professional company. I toughened you up, but whatever. I swear I'm not trying to ruin your performance for Oscar tonight.”

“Then why did you sneak in here during the fire alarm to take Maggie's lucky shoes?” I asked.

Fiona looked around to make sure no one was watching, then leaned in closer.

“I wasn't trying to take the shoes. They were just in the way. I was trying to take this.”

She reached into the piano bench and pulled out a strip of photos, the kind taken in the photo booths that you see at amusement parks or weddings.

These photos were of Fiona and Colin. In the first one, they smiled. In the second one, they stuck their tongues out. The third, they held bunny ears over each other's heads, and in the fourth they kissed.

Maggie's eyebrows shot to the top of her head, and her jaw literally dropped open. “You and Colin are together?” she asked, sounding completely scandalized.

“Shh!” Fiona hissed. “No one can know! I hid the photo strip in the piano bench. I was worried that you would find it when you went to get your shoes back, so I used the fire alarm as an opportunity to take them, but then your hired goon confronted me.”

Suddenly a thought occurred to me. “Were you at Hugo's last night with Colin's dad?” I asked.

Fiona nodded. “But Colin wasn't.” She looked at Maggie. “Please don't be mad at Colin,” she said.

“Why would I be mad at Colin?” Maggie asked. “I
like
Colin.”

“I know,” Fiona said. “And he likes you. I don't even think it was really personal. He was just lashing out. You know how he gets when he's angry, and yesterday after his dad showed up and threatened to never let him dance again, he was so upset.” Fiona looked down at the ground, fighting back tears. “He was saying how it wasn't fair. All your dreams were coming true with Oscar coming to the performance and everything, and all his dreams were being ruined.”

It took a second to click into place, but I realized what she was saying. “Colin destroyed Maggie's dressing room, didn't he?” I asked.

Fiona nodded miserably. “It was so scary.”

“I don't get it,” Maggie asked. “I thought Colin and I were friends.”

“You are. He was out of control. Your dressing room was just in the wrong place. I knew I had to do something to try to help him. I convinced his dad to meet for dinner. I wanted to persuade him to come to the show tonight. I thought if he saw Colin dance, he would realize how good Colin is, and maybe he'd change his mind.”

She looked at the ground. “But I don't think I got through to him. He just kept saying how embarrassing it was to see his son in tights.”

She took a deep breath. Tears leaked from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She clearly cared a lot about Colin. I looked over at Maggie, whose face had softened.

“I know Colin's really sorry about your dressing room. He's planning on writing you a letter of apology, promising to pay for the damage.”

Maggie nodded, obviously still trying to make sense of everything that Fiona had just said.

Fiona looked up at the stage. “Your scene is next. You'd better get to the wings before Jamison flips his lid.”

“You're right,” Maggie said. She hurried backstage, and Fiona followed her.

George, Bess, and I sat in some nearby seats.

“So,” George said, “case closed? Whatever Fiona didn't do was Colin acting out because of his dad?”

I thought about it. It certainly explained some of what had happened to Maggie, but not all of it. And, more importantly, it didn't feel right. I had learned to trust my instincts when it came to solving mysteries. Usually everything fit together, and there were no more niggling doubts in the back of my mind. I didn't have that feeling now. Colin destroying Maggie's room had been impulsive and irrational. Everything else that happened to Maggie—that is, other than the pranks Fiona had confessed to—had been planned out; there seemed to be a purpose behind it.

“I'm not sure,” I said. “Maggie's phone being tampered with and the poster being vandalized all happened before Colin was confronted by his dad.”

“Yeah,” George said, “but it's not like Mike was ever supportive. I bet Colin's been jealous of Maggie and the support she gets for a long time.”

I shook my head. “It just seems like a stretch. Besides, Colin wasn't even at the restaurant last night, so he couldn't have left the note.”

“But Mike could have,” George insisted.

“George,” I said, “you're letting your personal dislike of Mike cloud your judgment. Mike seems really focused on Colin, and Fiona just confirmed that he hasn't even seen the show. I doubt he knows how important Maggie's role is.”

“I guess,” George said begrudgingly.

“He's still guilty of being a bad father,” I said.

“Yeah,” George said.

We sat in silence for a moment. “I just . . . ,” I started, trying to figure out how to articulate my thoughts. “I feel like we're not thinking about this in the right way.”

“What do you mean?” Bess asked.

“I don't know,” I said. “In most cases, we don't have enough information, and it's a matter of collecting more clues in order for it to all make sense.”

“But you don't feel that way about this one?” Bess asked.

I shook my head. “No. It feels like we have all the information we need, but we're not looking at it from the right angle. Like we have it upside down or sideways or something,” I said.

“Okay,” Bess said. “Why don't we go over everything we know and then see if we can make sense of it?”

“Yeah,” George said. “I'll type it all up, and that way we can move the clues around to try to see them differently.”

“Good idea!” I said.

George left to get her laptop from her bag backstage, then came back to sit next to us.

“Ready,” she said, her hands poised over the keys.

“Okay,” I began. “Let's go in the order we discovered the clues, so we don't forget anything.”

“All right,” Bess said. “Yesterday someone tampered with Maggie's phone to make her late for rehearsal.”

“Right. Then a little after that we discovered that someone had vandalized the poster for the show, so that Maggie's picture was destroyed,” I said.

“But,” George put in, “given the timing of printing posters, that probably happened before the phone was tampered with. Should I put that above the phone on our timeline?”

“Yeah,” I said. “That's a good idea.”

“So, next—” Bess started, but she was interrupted by Jamison's voice echoing throughout the theater.

“You!” he boomed. “Corps de ballet! Get onstage.” I froze as I waited for whoever he was yelling at to respond, but no one moved. “Hello! Corps de ballet! We are waiting.” I looked around the theater as a horrifying realization dawned on me. No one else from Miss Taylor's class had returned from the fire drill. Jamison must have fully closed the rehearsal. It was just me.

Jamison marched up the aisle toward me. My mouth went dry and my hands started shaking as adrenaline surged through my body. This was it. He was going to blow my cover and kick me out, and I still didn't know who was after Maggie.

“Hello!?” he repeated. “Do I have a deaf dancer in my company that I didn't know about?”

He stared at me, awaiting my response. I looked up blankly. Did he actually believe that I was a member of this tour? Next to me Bess squeezed my hand. I took a deep breath. There was no way out. I was just going to have to muddle through the best I could.

“Sorry, sir,” I said, pleasantly surprised by how confident my voice sounded. I had been sure it would come out a barely audible squeak. “I—”

“I don't want to hear any excuses. Get on the stage now,” he roared. “You are holding up my rehearsal!”

I gave one last look at George and Bess, who nodded encouragingly, and scurried onto the stage. All the other corps de ballet members stared at me. I could hear whispers among the crowd. They, at least, realized I didn't belong.