Dangerous Relations

by Carolyn Keene

  “You don’t know him like I do, honey,” Natalia said gently.

  Hayden shrugged. “A word of warning, Nancy. Watch out when he clenches his cigar between his front teeth! It’s a sure sign he’s in a foul mood—and he’ll take it out on anyone who gets in his way.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” Nancy said. She looked at Natalia. “Now, where can I find Vera? I’d like to ask her a few questions.”

  “Mother left just before you came. She wanted to do the laundry.”

  “We’ll come back later, then,” Nancy said.

  Before heading out the gate, Nancy turned and took one last look at the big top. The workers had gone to lunch, leaving behind a maze of wires and electrical cables. The electrical generator beside the tent made a loud, steady humming sound.

  “We still have to check in at the motel,” Nancy said, “and then eat lunch. After that, we’ll come back. Maybe Vera’ll be home by then. I’d also like to look in on the Angel Wings’ practice session and see how they get along after that blowup this morning.”

  • • •

  The motel where the girls were staying overlooked Sarasota Bay. It was beautifully landscaped with palm trees and lush tropical plants. There was a pool and a private beach. Nancy was relieved to find that the motel offered fax service. Bess, who had overpacked as usual, was happy with the huge closets in their room.

  The girls ate a quick lunch in the motel coffee shop. Then Nancy phoned a friend of her father who worked at immigration. Stephanie Cole had attended college with Carson Drew, and they’d kept in touch over the years.

  After some coaxing, Stephanie agreed to bend the rules a little and check the files for information on Vera Petronov. Nancy wanted to make sure Vera was a legal immigrant. If she wasn’t, that might explain much of her reluctance to dig into the past.

  Stephanie promised to call Nancy as soon as she had anything to report. Nancy’s next call was to a friend in her hometown, at the River Heights Library in Illinois. He agreed to fax her the names and phone numbers of the major newspapers in the American cities mentioned beneath the scrapbook picture.

  By the time the girls returned to the circus grounds, it was midafternoon. A canvas marquee had been added to the front entrance of the big top. Bleachers, riggings, and props were being carried inside.

  Nancy caught a glimpse of Marshall Keiser amidst all the milling workers. His cigar jutted out from between his front teeth. “Uh-oh,” George said. “He must be in a bad mood. Let’s not take the shortcut across the grounds.”

  As they followed the road around, a dark-haired woman came toward them, leading a dappled colt. Nancy recognized the woman from one of the circus posters in the arena. She was Hilary Luttrelli, one of a family of bareback riders.

  “Excuse me,” Nancy called. “Can you tell me where to find the wardrobe mistress?”

  Hilary pointed out a trailer parked on the far side of the arena. Nancy thanked her and continued on past the animal barn with its pungent smell of hay and manure. A dog act was working in the outdoor ring, and some tumblers were using a seesaw board to build a three-man-high pyramid. But the girls didn’t have time to stop and watch.

  “Would you two check in on the flyers while I go see Vera?” Nancy asked. “See how the three of them are acting. Whether there’re hard feelings or if they’re being professional. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Bess agreed. George nodded.

  “I’ll come as soon as I’ve talked with Vera,” Nancy added.

  Nancy knocked at the screen door of the circus wardrobe trailer. A voice called, “The door is open.”

  The tiny trailer was filled with racks of clothes. Nancy worked her way between them, admiring their gaudy splendor. There were glittering costumes of magenta and gold, pink and red, and yellow and lavender. There were velvet capes and majestic hats with huge ostrich plumes. A brilliant green tuxedo hung on a rack of men’s costumes. Rhinestones and sequins flashed from the lapels.

  At the back of the trailer, Nancy found a stern-faced woman with iron gray hair and the blackest eyes she’d ever seen.

  “I’ve got a friend who would go crazy over these beautiful costumes!” Nancy said, smiling.

  The black eyes narrowed as the woman searched Nancy’s face. “Can I help you?”

  “I hope so. I’m Nancy Drew.”

  “The detective?”

  At Nancy’s nod, the wardrobe mistress said in a cold voice, “I have much work to do.”

  “I won’t stay long,” Nancy said quickly. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  “As I have told Natalia, I know nothing about her father. Nothing.” Vera turned and sat down at a sewing machine with her back to Nancy. She pushed red velvet fabric beneath the foot-feed. The motor whirred as she stitched a seam.

  “Mrs. Petronov, it would be helpful if I could see the adoption papers,” Nancy tried again.

  “They were lost in a fire.” Vera bent over and clipped a thread. The snip of the scissors had a ring of finality to it.

  Studying her profile, Nancy saw that Vera Petronov was pretty, though her expression was severe.

  “Do you think Natalia’s father was with the ballet?” she asked.

  Vera glanced up from her work, her expression wary. “Why do you ask that?”

  “Natalia lent me her scrapbook. I know Irina became pregnant in America.” Nancy saw Vera’s eyebrows raise just slightly. She added, “Her closest contacts and friends would have been fellow troupers.”

  “That proves nothing. Where are those men now? Scattered all over Russia. All over the world, perhaps, now that there is more freedom.”

  “Perhaps,” Nancy agreed. “But I have to start somewhere.”

  “It would be better left alone. Tell Natalia no, you can’t help. Go home.”

  Nancy outlined her plan to locate more articles about the troupe’s tour. She was hoping Vera would see it was pointless to try and keep her from investigating and simply tell her what she wanted to know. “That should give me a list of the performers who traveled with Irina. There may even be mention of the stage crew and whoever else traveled with the troupe,” she added.

  For a moment Vera’s hands stopped. Then, clip, clip, clip went the scissors in the silence of the trailer.

  “Mrs. Petronov, I know this has to be difficult,” Nancy said gently. “And I understand you may think Natalia’s better off not knowing her father. But after all, it’s Natalia’s choice.”

  Vera said nothing.

  “I don’t mean to offend you,” Nancy continued. “But I have the feeling you know more than you’re telling.”

  Vera still said nothing. Frustrated by her silence, Nancy ventured, “It was a legal adoption, wasn’t it?”

  Vera’s face turned bright red. She clenched her fists and demanded, “What do you think, that I stole her? It was legal, of course it was legal!”

  “Then why won’t you help her? She’s dreamed of finding her father for a long time.”

  “To find him, not to find him. It is not for you to say. I am her mother! I know what is best!”

  “Best for whom?” Nancy said in a level voice. “Best for Natalia? Or best for you?”

  Vera lurched out of her chair, scissors in hand. She gestured wildly and cried, “You leave it alone, do you hear me? You meddlesome girl. I will fight you. I will fight you with my last breath!”

  Then, suddenly, Vera lunged toward Nancy, the scissors still in her hand.

  Chapter

  Five

  WAS THE woman insane? Nancy thought wildly. Backing away, she said, “Mrs. Petronov, put those scissors down before someone gets hurt!”

  Vera stopped short. She looked at the scissors, then flung them down. Her hand trembled as she pointed to the door. “You go now. Out!”

  Had Vera really intended to harm her? Or was she so upset that she hadn’t realized the scissors were in her hand? Nancy wondered as she hurried from the trailer to the arena entrance.

  Bess and G
eorge were just coming out of the arena. Hayden and Natalia were with them. They were both drenched in sweat, but their faces glowed with pleasure.

  “Nan, you should have seen it!” George said. “Hayden was practically juggling Natalia and Katrina. They passed in midair!”

  “That was a passing trick. We really nailed it this time,” Hayden said proudly.

  Nancy glanced at Hayden. “Katrina behaved herself, then?”

  He nodded. “I guess she realizes that with a show coming up, we can’t afford to let our differences get in the way of the act.”

  Bess poked Nancy in the ribs and said in a low voice, “Here comes Bonnie Luttrelli. Her mother’s Hilary, the one with the horses. Bonnie’s a showgirl. She was inside practicing, too, and she showed me some steps.” She waved enthusiastically. “Bonnie!”

  A pretty teenager with long blond hair and deep dimples walked over, and Bess introduced her to Nancy. “Are you thinking of joining the circus, like Bess here?” Bonnie joked. “We could use a few new showgirls!”

  Nancy laughed. Bess sighed enviously. “I’d love to be in the circus. You get to wear gorgeous costumes and dance, and everyone’s looking at you. What fun!”

  “That’s what you’re supposed to think,” Bonnie said. “The truth is, it’s hard work. Right now, my feet are killing me.”

  They began walking toward the trailers at a leisurely pace. Katrina came up from behind and passed them. A few steps on, she stopped and turned. “Bonnie? Tell Tom I’ll meet him in the outdoor ring at eight tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell him,” Bonnie said.

  Katrina looked Nancy up and down. Then, without saying another word, she turned and hurried to a blue trailer that was hooked up to an old truck. Still mad, thought Nancy. How long did she carry a grudge? And how far?

  “Katrina and my brother Tom have been working on a stunt, using horses and Katrina’s black labrador, Hugo,” Bonnie said, when Nancy questioned her. “It’s your basic damsel in distress routine. Tom kidnaps the bareback rider—Katrina. As they gallop around the ring, Hugo runs up a ramp and leaps across the horse, knocking Tom to the ground and saving Katrina.”

  “So Katrina rides, too?” Nancy asked. Seeing Hayden exchange glances with Natalia, she added, “What’s she doing—getting an act ready in case she can’t make the grade anymore as a flyer?”

  “In small circuses many of the performers do more than one thing,” Hayden said. “There’s a lot of doubling up. A clown could also be a tumbler, for instance. Some of the performers also do technical stuff, like electrical work. They earn more money that way, and the circus can travel with fewer people. So Katrina does two acts.

  “But,” he went on, “as far as Katrina being a flyer, she should have a few more years left. But after thirty it gets tough.” He kissed Natalia’s cheek. “Got to run. I’ll see you all later tonight.”

  Nancy was still thinking about Katrina. Even though the woman could do other things, was Katrina worried that her flying days might be numbered? It seemed that age, not Natalia, was her enemy. And maybe Katrina wanted one last chance to have the spotlight on her alone.

  “Is anything happening around here tonight?” Bess asked as Hayden disappeared into his camper.

  “Oh, yes!” Bonnie exclaimed. “We’re having a big bash over on Siesta Key. It’s our annual hit-the-road party.”

  “Please come! Hayden and I have a surprise,” Natalia put in, her eyes twinkling.

  The girls accepted, then headed back to their motel to get changed. On the way, Nancy told Bess and George about her visit with Vera. She was hoping that Stephanie had called about Vera’s immigration file. But there were no messages for her at the motel desk.

  For the party Nancy dressed in white jeans and a blue cotton blouse that set off her reddish blond hair. George wore an Indian-print shirt over black trousers, and Bess decided on a pink minidress and pink flats.

  Siesta Key was a barrier island connected to the mainland by two bridges. The fifteen-minute ride was a pretty one. Trees were draped in Spanish moss. Sea oats, a lovely waving grass, grew along the shore.

  “There’s the circus truck,” Bess said as they approached a paved parking area that overlooked a dazzling white beach.

  Nancy parked, and the girls climbed out. The sun sparkled off the ocean in rosy rays. She inhaled the mingled scents of saltwater, woodsmoke, and hamburgers sizzling on a grill.

  A crowd was gathered around Hayden and Natalia at the water’s edge. Suddenly a cheer rang out from the crowd, and people started hitting Hayden on the back.

  “What on earth . . . ?” Nancy began, hurrying to join the others. The clowns she’d met that morning at the cookhouse had shovels and were digging a trench as quickly as they could. Sand was flying everywhere. Sweat was streaming down Packrat’s pointy chin. Long-limbed Slowpoke kept shoveling steadily.

  Then Jiffy and Dillard nudged Natalia to one side and grabbed Hayden. The crowd howled as Winky and Tim joined their clown buddies in throwing Hayden into the trench.

  Sand flew fast and furious as the clowns tried to hold Hayden down long enough to bury him. Eduardo spotted Nancy and her friends and waved them over to the other side of the melee. Bonnie Luttrelli and Joseph were with him. “Hayden and Natalia are going to be married!” Bonnie called.

  “So that’s the surprise Natalia was talking about,” George said.

  Eduardo laughed and pointed. “This is the clowns’ way of telling him his life is over.”

  What was Katrina’s reaction to Natalia and Hayden’s engagement? Nancy wondered, looking around for the redhead. She saw her backing away from the clowns and the flying sand. She walked past the spot where Eduardo, Nancy, Bess, and George were standing. “I didn’t get all dressed up just to have sand thrown at me,” Katrina grumbled.

  “The clowns are just celebrating Hayden and Natalia’s engagement,” Eduardo argued.

  Katrina stopped and regarded him coldly. “I thought this was a season-opening party, not an engagement party.”

  “Engagement party! Good idea,” Eduardo said as she marched away.

  Nancy turned and nearly collided with a gray-eyed man. His dark hair was close-cropped, and his pale shirt and shorts showed off his tan. He appeared to be in his late twenties. “Oh, sorry!” he said. “I was trying to get out of the way of the sand.”

  A shout went up from the crowd. Nancy turned back and saw that the clowns had buried Hayden up to his neck. She grinned as Natalia got down on her knees and kissed him. Then the clowns dug him up again, and the crowd began to break up.

  “Hey, Nan! They’re putting up a volleyball net on the beach. Want to play?” George asked.

  “In a while,” Nancy replied. “You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.”

  As Nancy’s friends sped down the beach, the man who’d bumped into her asked, “Are you with the circus?”

  “No. My name’s Nancy Drew.”

  “The detective?”

  Nancy raised her eyebrows. “Now, how does everyone know that?”

  “If you know how to listen, you can learn a lot,” he said mysteriously. Then he grinned. “So how’s it going? Any leads on Natalia’s dad?”

  Nancy laughed. “If you’re so good at finding things out, I don’t think I need to tell you.”

  He held out a hand. “I’m Richard Smith.”

  “You’re not a performer, are you?” Nancy asked, thinking that with his tailored clothes and executive-style haircut, he’d look more at home in a boardroom or a businessmen’s club.

  “No. My father owns Sunshine Enterprises in Saint Petersburg,” he answered. “We lease transport vehicles—this season, to the circus. I came to make sure everything’s in good shape before Grand Royal takes to the road.”

  “I see.”

  Richard stooped to pick up a shell. Nancy saw, as he turned it in his hand, that the inside glimmered like rainbows on a puddle.

  “That’s a pretty one,” she said.

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p; “It’s yours.” He pressed it into her hand.

  “Thanks. I’ll take it home to add to our housekeeper’s collection.”

  “Just one shell?” he said, as if she were suggesting giving someone just one glove. “Take her a bunch. To get the best ones, you have to look right after the tide has gone out. But we can try our luck now, if you’d like.”

  “Yes, I would,” Nancy said. As they headed toward the beach, Richard said, “I’ve always liked shells. I’ve been collecting them since I was little. My mother used to say everyone ought to collect something.”

  There was a poignancy in his tone that told Nancy his mother was no longer living. But she didn’t feel she knew him nearly well enough to ask about it.

  Suddenly the roar of a motorcycle pulling into the parking lot caused them both to turn.

  Marshall Keiser parked his motorcycle, climbed off, took off his helmet, and lit up a cigar. He settled it loosely to the side of his mouth and walked over to them. “Evening, Richard. Nancy. How’s the party?”

  “Nice. And the food smells great. I’m hungry enough to eat a horse,” Richard said as Nancy nodded a greeting to Keiser.

  “Then what are you doing hanging around here? Go get yourself a plate,” Keiser said amiably. He started toward the area where the food had been set out.

  “Would you excuse me, Richard?” Nancy asked.

  “Of course,” Richard said, sounding slightly disappointed. “See you later.”

  Nancy hurried to catch Keiser. “Mr. Keiser!”

  He glanced back and stopped. “What is it?”

  “I was wondering how long you’ve known Vera.”

  “Almost eighteen years,” he replied. “She needed help, and I needed a wardrobe mistress.”

  “Is she a naturalized citizen?” Nancy asked.

  Keiser scowled. “Ask her yourself.” He resumed walking.

  Nancy hurried to keep up. “One more thing. Do you carry life insurance on your employees? Especially ones with high-risk acts, like the flyers?”

  Nancy steeled herself as he scowled at her. He jerked the cigar out of his mouth. “If you’re thinking I had something to do with Natalia’s fall this morning, you hold that thought right where it is. Because if you go putting it into words, I’m liable to get mighty angry. Understand me?”