Dangerous Relations

by Carolyn Keene

  “I’ll explain later,” Nancy said. She asked the clowns, “What was the deal with the socks?”

  “It’s an old clown gag,” Slowpoke said. “White-socking.”

  “They didn’t mean any harm, Nan,” Bess said as the other clowns came over to join them.

  “It’s a joke clowns like to pull to celebrate an occasion. Like a birthday or anniversary,” Eduardo added.

  Nancy frowned. “What’s in the socks?”

  “Face powder,” Dillard said.

  “It’s to set our makeup,” added Tim. “Every clown has a white sock.”

  “We socked her on her birthday, and she didn’t get sick,” Packrat said, looking sick himself.

  “Did you use the same kind of powder?”

  “Yes,” Winky said, blinking a droopy eye. “We all use the same. Always have.”

  What had triggered Natalia’s attack, then? Stress? Suddenly Nancy remembered something Hayden had said about cleaning agents. Maybe there were other substances that would cause Natalia breathing problems.

  “Would you mind if I took a look at all your socks?” Nancy asked.

  The six clowns untied the knots at the top of their socks. Nancy dipped her hand into sock after sock. The powder inside five socks was satiny smooth, with little odor. But when she put her hand into the last sock, the one belonging to Tim, she felt a difference.

  “This is coarse.” She examined the tiny particles in her hand and held them up to her nose. “It smells different, too.”

  George leaned in and took one sniff. “That’s carpet cleaner! I’d know that smell anywhere.”

  An alarm rang in Nancy’s head. Carpet cleaner—it had caused Natalia to have an earlier attack. Hayden had said so.

  Tim took the sock and examined the white powder closely. “It does smell like carpet cleaner. But how did it get in my sock?”

  Nancy said, “Someone put it in there. Someone who knew Natalia was allergic to carpet cleaner—and who wanted her out of the way.” She looked at Tim. “When did you use your sock last?”

  He looked frightened. “Just before rehearsal today. Nothing was wrong with it then.”

  “Where’s it been since then?” asked Nancy.

  “In my trailer. Until I came here and hid it behind the mats.”

  “Was anyone at your trailer today? During or after rehearsal?”

  Tim started to shake his head, then hesitated. “Katrina was waiting outside my trailer when I got back from rehearsal.”

  Nancy thought of Katrina oiling the bar. Had she done this, too? “Was your door locked?” she asked Tim. He shook his head. “Did you have any carpet cleaner in your trailer?”

  “No. I don’t have a carpet.”

  “Did Katrina know you guys planned to pull your sock trick tonight on Natalia and Hayden?”

  “Sure,” Tim said. “We planned it last night at the beach party. Everyone knew.”

  Nancy ignored that. “Where’s Katrina now?”

  “She went home when the white-socking started. We got powder on her good dress, and she got mad,” Tim said, looking miserable.

  “And you guys all left your socks hidden behind the mats, right?”

  The clowns all nodded. So, Nancy thought, anyone who knew they were there could have tampered with Tim’s sock. Maybe she could get somewhere by tracking down the source of the carpet cleaner. Suddenly she snapped her fingers, remembering that she’d seen carpet cleaner in Marshall Keiser’s office earlier that day.

  “I’ll be right back.” Nancy raced toward Marshall Keiser’s office. The door was open, and she went straight to the cabinet. Everything was just as she’d left it before—except the container of carpet cleaner was missing.

  Bess, George, Eduardo, Joseph, Tim, and Richard came running in.

  “Does anyone see a carpet-cleaner container?” Nancy asked.

  Within seconds, Bess cried out, “I found it!” She was about to pick the container out of the trash when Nancy cried, “Don’t touch it. Maybe the crime lab can lift some prints.”

  She used a tissue to pick it out. Without the prints of a suspect to check them against, prints on the can would be useless in tracking the culprit. But when Nancy found the culprit—and she wouldn’t stop until she did—prints could be taken and proof established.

  “Good work, Bess,” Nancy said.

  “I suppose you’ll be wanting this, too,” Tim said. He looked like the saddest clown in the world as he gave Nancy his powder sock.

  • • •

  By the time the girls left, it was after midnight. Nancy decided to wait until morning to take the evidence to Phillip Green. On the way back to the motel, she told Bess and George about being thrown in the tiger’s cage.

  “Nan, that’s so scary!” Bess cried.

  “It was,” Nancy confessed. Smiling, she added, “And smelly, too. I can’t wait to get out of these clothes.”

  “You are pretty ripe,” George agreed.

  As soon as the girls reached their room, Nancy stripped off her skirt and sweater and put on her robe. Wrinkling her nose, she stuffed the skirt in a laundry bag. She was about to put the sweater in the bag as well when she noticed something gold glittering on the sweater. It had caught in the loose weave.

  Nancy removed the bit of gold, then held it in her hand and stared at it. “Hey, look! It’s the stem of a wristwatch,” she said. She held the stem up to the light. Then its significance became clear—and a surge of excitement swept through her.

  “It must have caught in my sweater when I was struggling with my attacker,” she said. “This little bit of metal may tell us who’s trying to kill Natalia!”

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  NANCY WRAPPED the watch stem in a tissue and put it in her coin purse. It was one of the few pieces of hard evidence she had in the case.

  “I’ll have to come up with a way to check the wristwatches of all my suspects,” she said, thinking aloud.

  “Nancy,” Bess said firmly. “Stop planning for just a little while and get ready for bed. It’s been a long day. You need some sleep.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Nancy said, grinning.

  She showered quickly and was slipping into her nightshirt when Bess spoke to her from the next room. “I just called the hospital, Nan. Natalia’s out of danger.”

  Nancy came out of the bathroom. “How long before she feels better?”

  “Hayden says it’s like a bad case of the flu. It’ll take her a day or two to build up her strength.”

  “Good. She’s safer in the hospital than up on a trapeze. I’ve got to find out who’s trying to kill her before she flies again,” Nancy said.

  “Who do you think it is?” George asked.

  Nancy shrugged. “The case against Marshall Keiser is getting stronger. He could have ridden the Sphere of Death when it nearly got Natalia—he has the knowledge, and he has no real alibi. Also, he knows Natalia’s allergic to carpet cleaner. He could have emptied her inhaler and stolen the spares when he had lunch there today. And then there’s the call canceling the rescue unit. I guess he could have made it, then dashed to the barn and grabbed me as I went by, to make sure I didn’t get Natalia’s medicine to her.”

  “Sounds possible to me,” Bess said.

  Nancy hesitated.

  “It also sounds as if you don’t believe your own theory,” George remarked.

  “It bothers me,” Nancy admitted. She pulled down the sheets and climbed into bed. “That’s a lot for one man to do without being seen by anyone. It’s almost too much evidence. And then there’s that postcard. Why would he leave something like that lying around in plain sight?”

  “Okay, then, what about Katrina?” George suggested. “We already know she oiled the bar.”

  “Right,” Nancy said. “That’s why I can’t believe she’s behind this other stuff. I mean, she knows we’re onto her. She isn’t stupid—she knows that if anything more happens to Natalia, she’d be the prime suspect.”

&n
bsp; “Maybe she’s got a partner,” George said.

  Nancy sighed. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m on the wrong trail altogether. Victor Bykov keeps coming into my head, but I don’t know where he fits in. This is so frustrating!”

  “Maybe it’ll be clearer in the morning,” Bess suggested. “Let’s go to sleep.”

  Lying there in the dark, a thought struck Nancy. “You know,” she said, “Richard helped me out of the cage. His watch stem could have snagged on my sweater then.”

  “Should be easy to check,” George murmured.

  Or when he hugged me, Nancy thought. But he’d been so helpful when she was upset. It was good to have someone there for you when you needed them, she thought, and drifted off to sleep.

  • • •

  Next morning, after dropping off the powder sock and the can of carpet cleaner at the police station, the girls went to the hospital.

  As Nancy parked the car in the hospital lot, Bess said, “Look, it’s Mr. Keiser!”

  Marshall Keiser was striding across the lot, cigar in hand. How could Nancy learn where he’d been the night before without asking questions? Nancy wondered. Searching for the right approach, she went to meet him.

  “Good morning!” she called. “That was a close call Natalia had last night.” She sneaked a glance at his watch. It was a digital, with no winding stem.

  Keiser looked at his watch, too, and said in his abrupt way, “I don’t have a lot of time, so why don’t I say it for you? I was in the cookhouse this morning, and the place was buzzing. Someone put carpet cleaner in one of the clown’s powder socks. The empty can was found in my office, and you’re wondering if I’m responsible.” He clamped down on his cigar.

  A little taken aback by his directness, Nancy said, “Anyone could have put that can in your office.”

  Irritably he said, “True. The lock on my office door doesn’t work too well. But then, I guess I don’t need to tell you that.”

  Nancy blushed, but she didn’t bother to defend her actions. Instead, she watched Keiser’s face, saying, “If you have any ideas about who may be setting you up, I’d like to hear them.”

  Surprised, he took the cigar from his mouth and knocked off the ashes. “I settle my own scores. But I’ll say this much—I should have listened to you sooner. Natalia’s alive today because of you. I admire that. And I’m grateful,” he added, the abrasiveness dropping from his manner for a split second.

  “Two heads are better than one,” he continqued. “As long as you don’t get underfoot, you’ve got my permission to question any of my people you think might have had a hand in these attacks on Natalia. Then you come to me, and I’ll take care of it. Understand?”

  Nancy found herself wanting to believe Marshall Keiser, but she had met too many likable crooks in the past to let her feelings get in the way of logic. She still needed to know Keiser’s alibi, if he had one.

  “I’ll help in any way I can, Mr. Keiser,” she said in a neutral voice. Thinking swiftly, she added, “By the way, it was a pretty good party last night, right up to the white-socking.”

  Keiser narrowed his eyes. In a tone of grudging respect, he said, “I was at World of Sound in Saint Petersburg, if that’s what you’re asking. Check it out.” He nodded curtly, turned, and walked away.

  “Wow!” Bess whispered. “Talk about major surprises. What’s gotten into him?”

  “He’s scared about his circus, and he needs Nancy’s help,” George said.

  There was one way to find out. Nancy found a phone in the hospital lobby and looked up the number for World of Sound in Saint Petersburg. The clerk who answered hadn’t worked the evening before. At Nancy’s insistence, though, she gave the name of a man who had. In less than five minutes, the man had confirmed Keiser’s alibi.

  “You’re narrowing the field of suspects, at least,” George said.

  “Which means you’re getting somewhere,” Bess said with an encouraging smile.

  The girls made a stop at the hospital’s gift shop, then went to the information desk to get Natalia’s room number. When they got to Natalia’s room, they found that she was sleeping. Vera was at her bedside, napping in a chair. Hayden was in another chair. Seeing the girls at the door, he tiptoed out to the hall.

  “It’s the first really restful sleep Nat’s had,” he said in response to the girls’ concern.

  “Just tell her we were here,” said Nancy.

  “And give her this.” Bess held out the music box with a circus scene on it that they’d just bought in the hospital gift shop.

  Hayden’s tired expression momentarily vanished as he gave the girls a grateful smile. “Thanks. She’ll love it. Let me just put it down.” He took the music box into the room and carefully set it on the bedside table. Then he came back out into the hallway.

  “Nancy,” Hayden said, “thanks for taking charge last night. I don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t been there.”

  “I’m just glad she’s going to be okay,” Nancy said.

  “If there’s anything else we can do, let us know,” George offered.

  “Actually, there is,” Hayden said. “Now that Nat’s resting easy, Vera and I could use a ride back to the circus grounds. There’s a rehearsal this afternoon. It’ll be just Katrina and me, but the show always goes on.”

  “Sure. We’d be glad to,” Nancy said.

  “Just wait while I run down to the nurses’ station and tell them we’re going,” Hayden said.

  “Okay,” Nancy said. “I’ll wake Vera.” Nancy stepped into the room. Vera’s face, in sleep, had lost its sternness. Her features were soft, pretty in a faded way. The high cheekbones, the firm chin, the parted lips were familiar.

  Nancy stared at her a moment longer, puzzled by the familiarity. She glanced from Vera to Natalia and back again. The sudden realization was like an electric current going through her. “Of course!” she whispered.

  To double-check, she looked through the contents of her shoulder bag for the copy of the clipping of Irina and her chauffeur. They shared too many similar features for it to be a coincidence. She pulled out the faxed photograph and looked from Irina to Vera.

  They were sisters! Nancy thought. Vera and Irina were sisters.

  Now was the time to press her. Vera was exhausted, her guard was down. If the truth was going to come out, it would come now. Nancy had to seize the element of surprise.

  She slipped up to Vera’s chair, leaned down, and said in a whisper, “Mrs. Neverenko!”

  Vera’s dark eyes flew open.

  “I have a picture here of Natalia’s parents. Look at it, Mrs. Neverenko. Look at your sister, Irina!”

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  VERA SHOT A frightened glance at the sleeping Natalia, then bolted into the hallway. Nancy quickly followed and put out a hand to stop Vera. The woman turned. “How did you know?”

  “It isn’t important,” Nancy said quietly. “What matters is that I’ve learned who Natalia’s father is. He’s Victor Bykov, Irina’s chauffeur. Now I need to know everything you know about him.”

  Vera looked through the open door where Natalia lay sleeping. In an agonized whisper, she asked, “Why must you do this?”

  “Natalia has a right to know,” Nancy said. “You’ve misled her from the beginning. And somehow, these secrets you’re keeping are endangering her.”

  Vera’s eyes filled with tears. “You don’t understand!”

  “Then explain it to me, and help keep your daughter safe.”

  Vera turned her head toward the room again, then pleaded, “Let us speak of this later. I don’t want her to hear. Not this way.”

  Nancy was sorry for Vera, but she knew she had to be firm. “Let’s go, then. I’ll drive you home, and we can talk there.”

  For a moment the old fire flashed in Vera’s eyes. Then she saw Hayden striding toward them, and the anger quickly turned to an anxious plea. “Not in front of Hayden, either. Please!”

  There was noth
ing to be gained by forcing the truth from Vera in front of Hayden. But it was a tense ride back to the circus. Nancy was glad when she and her friends finally were seated in Vera’s kitchen.

  “Do you really think it is old secrets threatening my Natalia?” Vera asked, her hands trembling as she folded them on the table.

  “I think it’s possible there’s someone besides you who doesn’t want Natalia to find her father,” Nancy said. “That may be what’s behind these attacks.”

  “Then you should stop looking! Stop asking questions!” Vera said in a panicky voice.

  “It’s too late for that,” Nancy said. “The only way we can protect Natalia now is to figure out who is trying to keep her from learning her father’s identity.”

  “If I tell you what I know, will you promise to keep my Natalia safe?” Vera demanded.

  “I’ll do my very best,” Nancy said.

  “All right.” Vera took a deep breath. “Irina was my younger sister. She and Victor Bykov were childhood sweethearts.”

  Nancy was startled. “We thought he was American.”

  Vera shook her head. “Victor was Russian. He defected two years after marrying my sister. He became an American.

  “Irina was beautiful and gifted.” Vera’s voice gained strength as she talked. “Victor was a homely man with big ears and big feet—and big dreams. Irina was only sixteen when they married.”

  “Sixteen!” Bess exclaimed. “That’s so young!”

  Vera nodded. “Victor was eighteen. He drove a truck, and he dreamed of freedom. Crazy dreams. Irina had dreams, too, but she was sensible. She worked hard at ballet. Soon she was a principal dancer. The better she became, the more Victor pressed her to defect to America. She refused. Victor became angry and said he would go without her. ‘Go!’ Irina told him. ‘Perhaps I will see you there when I come to dance.’ ”

  Vera was wadding a paper napkin in her hands. “The stupid oaf left her! But it was hard for Irina. We thought she would go to prison for Victor’s defection. And she certainly would have, had she not had such a rare talent.”