False Moves

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy settled into a karate stance, ready to lash out at the figure at any moment if it should decide to attack her. She opened her mouth to scream.

  But she never had a chance to get a sound out. The figure lunged—not for Nancy but for one of the heavy racks of costumes on wheels. With no time to jump out of the way, Nancy watched in horror as the crushing weight came hurtling toward her.

  Chapter

  Six

  NANCY! NANCY, WAKE up! Please . . .” Somewhere through the fog that had overcome her, Nancy heard those words. All she could remember was the intruder in black pushing a rack of costumes down on her. Then she had slipped into blackness herself.

  Now someone was calling her. With great effort, Nancy opened her eyes and peeked through. Ned was kneeling by her side, a look of frantic concern on his face. “Come on, Nancy. Please get up,” he whispered as he reached out to stroke her hair.

  Nancy couldn’t help but smile. This was the old Ned—caring, attentive, loving.

  “Oooh,” Nancy groaned as she opened her eyes. Her body throbbed from where the costume rack had hit her.

  “Nancy!” Ned exclaimed. “Thank goodness!” He threw his arms open and in another instant, Nancy found herself enfolded in his warm embrace. The hug lasted for one delicious moment. Then Ned pulled away gently.

  And even though the hug had been brief, Nancy couldn’t help but feel wonderful—despite her bruises! From the expression in his eyes, she knew Ned felt good, too. Unfortunately, she realized, he was now involved with someone else and couldn’t let his feelings for Nancy show. Belinda was coming between them even in the deserted room.

  “Are you all right?” Ned asked. He let the palm of his hand rest on Nancy’s cheek.

  “I think so,” she replied. She stared into Ned’s eyes for a moment. But then turned quickly away and got up, brushing dust off her jeans and sweater. “Hmmm,” she said, glancing around the costume room, “it doesn’t look like any damage was done to the costumes—except, of course, that they’re all in a heap. But I hope nothing’s destroyed or missing.”

  Ned laughed. “Nancy, you’re the only girl in the world who’d be struck unconscious and then wake up with mystery on her mind. What happened, by the way?”

  “I surprised a woman dressed in black in here, and she shoved that costume rack over on me.”

  “Woman?” Ned asked. “How do you know it wasn’t a guy?”

  “Well,” Nancy answered. “I got a good look at her just before she pushed over those costumes. She was definitely female.”

  Ned got to his feet. “So what are we looking for? Let’s get started.”

  Nancy smiled. “Thanks for offering to help, Ned. I appreciate it. Actually, I’m not sure exactly what we’re searching for. Maybe something strange or damaged about a costume—if the intruder had to tear it up in order to get what she was after. Or it could be that we’re looking for an item that’s missing.”

  “Nancy, how are we going to find something that isn’t here—especially when we don’t know what it is that isn’t here?”

  Nancy laughed. “That’s what being a detective is all about—solving impossible problems!” She and Ned stood the fallen rack up and began to rehang the costumes on it. Nancy searched that rack while Ned headed for one of the others.

  The search progressed slowly, and even though neither she nor Ned found anything, Nancy loved every minute of it. Being with Ned, working on a case together—it felt just like the old days when they were a couple.

  Nancy could tell Ned was having fun, too. He really did love the excitement and adventure of detective work, even though he hated the amount of time Nancy devoted to it. He also hated the dangerous situations Nancy found herself in.

  But to Nancy danger was just part of the game when she was investigating a mystery. The woman who had attacked her had certainly proven that.

  “So who do you think rolled that rack of costumes on you?” Ned wanted to know as he carefully examined a pink satin costume.

  “If I knew that, I’d probably have the mystery solved,” Nancy said with a sigh. “But right now, I’m tending toward Ana Lokhar. I met her just now in the theater before I got knocked out. And, Ned, she was wearing black pants and shoes, just like our masked figure!”

  Ned considered what Nancy had said. “That’s an interesting possibility. With all her connections with the Raja family and CBT, she would have the opportunity to set up the heist.”

  “Right. And because the Rajas trust her so much, no one would be likely to suspect her! If she was ruthless enough to betray them, she’d stand to make millions with that jewel!” Nancy sat back on her heels. “I figure she came up to me in the theater to try to find out how much I knew and if I suspected her. When I left the theater, she didn’t realize I planned to come back to the costume room, so she thought she could return herself to finish the job here while she had the chance. I got lost on my way back here and that would have given her just enough time to grab what she’d come for—”

  “But you surprised her again and she had to knock you out,” Ned finished.

  Nancy frowned thoughtfully. “The problem is, it’s just a theory. All the evidence is circumstantial. The intruder could have been any woman.”

  Ned shot Nancy a sympathetic look from across the costume room. “Don’t worry. Whoever it is, she’s not going to get away with it. Not with Nancy Drew after her!”

  “Thanks, Ned,” Nancy said with a smile as she pulled yet another outfit off the pile on the floor. “It sure feels good to have you rooting for me.”

  By the time Nancy had checked through the last of the costumes, she ached all over and was covered with fine dust. She hadn’t found anything that looked even remotely like a clue—though she had gotten a few great ideas for evening dresses since CBT used fancy ball gowns in a number of their dances.

  Nancy decided to look quickly around the room one last time. Under the rack, which she and Ned had stood up, she noticed one last costume lying on the floor. She picked up the white tulle gown with a pair of high heels slung over the same hanger. “Wow,” she exclaimed. “It must be tough dancing in these.”

  But what was that she had uncovered lying on the floor beneath the dress? Nancy reached down and picked up a small frayed piece of pink silk.

  “Nancy,” Ned asked, “what’d you find?”

  Nancy examined the scrap of cloth intently. “It could be our first clue. The intruder might have left this here after she ripped apart some costume or . . .” Nancy knew she had seen fabric like that before. But where? Some skirt or blouse or pair of pointe shoes. She picked up her purse and said, “I’m not sure what this means—yet. But I intend to find out. I’m going to save it. Maybe one of the dancers will know where it came from.” She opened her bag and dropped the piece of silk into it.

  She dug around for her hairbrush. I must look like a total mess, she thought. And because Ned’s been sneaking glances at me for the past hour, I think I should at least try to give Belinda some competition.

  But before Nancy could find her brush, her hand closed around a folded piece of paper. Curious, she pulled it out and opened it. The typed message was short and to the point. Nancy read it out loud.

  “ ‘If you value your life, stay off the case.’ ”

  Chapter

  Seven

  NANCY LEANED BACK in her chair and watched the three figures on the TV screen whirl once again through the difficult steps that had ended so disastrously two days before. The dance company’s video equipment was so good and the picture was so clear that Nancy hoped she would be able to see something that would give her a clue as to who could have stolen the pin.

  Unfortunately Nancy was having a difficult time concentrating because the words of the note from the day before kept echoing through her head. The warning, on top of the attack in the costume room, truly frightened her because now she knew her attacker was someone who’d get violent before standing by and watching Nancy solve the myster
y.

  Maybe the intruder hadn’t planned to hurt her—at least not yet. But she—and whoever she might be working with—had intended to slip her the threatening message because the note had been typed. That meant it had been written in advance. So she’d been waiting for the right moment to slip it to Nancy, and the encounter in the costume room had been perfect.

  Nancy went over the list of suspects in her mind. Ana Lokhar was her prime suspect. But she hadn’t counted out James Ellsworth or Colby Baxter yet. She knew neither man could have been the mysterious person in black. But either of them could have hired a woman from the company to help him steal the pin. So either of them could be responsible.

  Leaving her troublesome thoughts for the moment, Nancy turned to her new boyfriend, Brad Eastman, who had come in with her from River Heights that morning to help on the case. “So what do you think?” She nodded toward the dancers on the tape. “Pretty fantastic, huh?”

  “Sure is,” Brad said, stretching his arm around Nancy’s shoulder. He nodded his head slightly, his gray eyes intent on the screen. “CBT definitely has great video equipment. I guess they need it for their work.”

  “Brad, I meant the dancing, not the equipment!” Nancy said, holding back a groan.

  “Oh, the dancing. That’s nice, too.”

  Nancy sighed. Brad was a good guy, but sometimes he missed the point. “Do you see anything you think might help me figure out who stole the diamond?”

  “I don’t know, Nancy, it could have been anybody—maybe even someone in the audience!”

  “How do you figure that?” Nancy asked. “They couldn’t have sneaked on the stage—there are no stairs up to it from the auditorium.”

  “Maybe one of the dancers snatched it from Katya, then tossed it to somebody in the front row,” Brad suggested.

  Nancy rolled her eyes. “Not when the lights were off. The chances would be a million to one that the dancer would throw it to the right person. No one would plan a robbery this big and then do something like that. Besides, the orchestra pit is below the stage. He’d have to throw that diamond a long way to reach the first row of the audience.”

  “Oh,” Brad said simply.

  Nancy moaned. It was times like that that she really missed Ned and his clear thinking. As a partner on a case, Brad was the worst. He had no sense of how the criminal mind worked. And he was so overprotective of Nancy that he had practically begged her to quit when he had heard about the attack and the threatening note.

  Of course, Nancy had refused to quit, so Brad had insisted on coming with her to make sure she’d be all right. He was on a break from law school, so he had time to join her. But it seemed to Nancy that he was getting in the way of the investigation, not helping. If anything dangerous did occur, she thought she’d have to protect Brad, not the other way around.

  Ned used to worry about me when I was investigating a case, Nancy told herself, but at least he never doubted my abilities.

  “Hey, Nancy, do you have a suspect yet?” Brad wanted to know.

  “Sure,” Nancy said. “In fact, I think I’ve got too many. Actually, finding suspects is never the hard part in a case. It’s narrowing them down to the one person who’s the criminal that’s so tough,” she explained.

  “I see,” Brad replied. Nancy knew he really didn’t understand. He was probably the type who peeked at the last page of a mystery novel to find out who did it, instead of fitting the clues together himself. “Then who are your suspects?” Brad asked.

  “Well, I’m keeping my eye on James Ellsworth, Colby Baxter, and Ana Lokhar because I think they’d have the best opportunities to plan the robbery—and the best motives, too. But someone had to do the actual stealing, and that someone was probably one of the dancers onstage. Which means Belinda, Andre, or Katya.”

  “Good,” Brad said. “So now that you’ve got your suspect list, just give it to the police and let them handle it. Then you won’t have to risk getting into danger yourself.”

  Nancy sighed again. “No, Brad, I can’t do that.” She was starting to wonder why she’d ever gotten involved with him.

  “Well, don’t get mad,” Brad said with an easy smile. He let his hand slide down Nancy’s arm and drew her close to him. Gently, he pulled her into a long, spine-tingling kiss.

  Nancy shivered happily, giving Brad’s muscular shoulders a squeeze. That was why she’d gotten involved with him. Brad Eastman was nothing compared to Ned, but there were certain times—and that was one of them—when none of that mattered. She let herself relax into his warm, thrilling kiss and forgot everything else.

  Then the doorknob rattled, and she and Brad sprang apart. The door swung open, and a tall, stately blonde strode into the room. She was wearing an emerald green leotard and matching nylon warm-up pants, but even in her casual dance clothes, she looked glamorous. Her hair was pulled back into a perfect bun and the little makeup she wore accented her beautiful features.

  “Katya Alexandrovna!” Nancy exclaimed as she came face to face with the great dancer. Nancy’s heart beat a little faster.

  Katya’s face melted into a friendly smile. “That is my name,” she said, her Russian accent still heavy in spite of many years of living in the United States.

  “Oh, I’ve watched your performances for ages,” Nancy said enthusiastically. “My ballet teacher always told me you were the best, and she was right!”

  “How sweet. And who are you, dear?”

  “I’m Nancy. Nancy Drew. And this is my friend, Brad Eastman.”

  “Oh, our resident private eye,” the dancer said. “You know, most ballet groups have a company physical therapist or a company masseur. But CBT is the only company with its own detective.”

  “It’s too bad the group needs one.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Katya agreed. “The Raja diamond certainly has caused a lot of trouble. One little object like that shouldn’t be able to make so many problems.”

  Nancy nodded. “I agree, but unfortunately, whoever stole it doesn’t!”

  Nancy watched the beautiful blond dancer carefully. It was incredible how charming she was—not stuck up at all. Nancy instantly liked her and hoped they could become better acquainted.

  But still, Nancy reminded herself, she couldn’t count her out as a suspect. Somebody on that stage had to have snatched the diamond. And even though Nancy didn’t like the thought, there was one chance in three that Katya could be involved.

  Katya peered curiously at the video screen. “What is this you’re looking at? A tape of the pas de trois?”

  “Uh-huh,” Nancy said. “I made it the night the diamond was stolen. I could have watched it at home, but the equipment here is so much better that I couldn’t resist making use of it. Here comes the most important part!”

  Katya, Nancy, and Brad watched as the three dancers on the screen began the final slow section of the dance. The two women rose onto their toes, their faces serene and calm. They looked perfect—not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in their costumes, not a ribbon loose.

  The theater thundered with applause as the lights went out. But just as Nancy remembered from watching the show on Sunday night, the clapping petered out after a few minutes and then Katya’s scream pierced the theater. The stage brightened again, and Katya woke from her faint. And as they watched, Katya was helped offstage by the two younger dancers, her right foot was dragging slightly, and the ribbon of her toe shoe trailed behind her weak leg.

  Nancy scrutinized the real Katya as she watched herself on the screen. She seemed displeased and a frown creased her features.

  “What’s the matter, Madame Alexandrovna. Don’t you like what you see?” Nancy asked.

  The dancer turned sharply. “No, no I don’t. I don’t look good in that video.”

  “Oh, the limp,” Nancy said. “I was surprised to see that, too.”

  Katya caught her breath quickly and stared at Nancy for a moment, her expression hard. Then she said, “That’s my weak ankle. It’
s been giving me more and more trouble.”

  Nancy smiled. “I thought so. And I’m sorry it’s a problem for you. But it didn’t seem to affect your dancing at all. You’re still the greatest dancer CBT’s got.”

  Katya’s face seemed to soften. “It’s kind of you to say so. Others are not always as generous. James Ellsworth, for instance. He wants younger ballerinas in the company, and even though I can dance circles around them, my ankle is all he sees.” The ballerina shook her head. But then her face brightened. “Please, don’t let me bother you with my problems. You have problems of your own—like this criminal who stole the diamond.”

  “I’m doing my best to find him,” Nancy said with a smile.

  “Well,” Katya said, “I came up here only to get a videotape for Colby. I must hurry to class now.” She pulled a tape from the CBT collection and walked to the door. But then she turned back to Nancy. “I wonder if you’d like to come watch the class. You seem to love ballet, so it might be fun for you.”

  Nancy caught her breath quickly and grinned. She was actually being invited to watch the CBT practice! “Oh,” she cried happily, “I’d love to watch the class! Come on, Brad. Madame Alexandrovna’s in a hurry.” She grabbed her purse and took the tape of the pas de trois out of the recorder.

  Katya laughed. “Your enthusiasm is wonderful.”

  Together, Katya, Nancy, and Brad left the video center and walked to one of the studios. The ballerina pushed the door open and practically knocked it into a young dancer who was on the floor doing sit-ups.

  “Oh, excuse me,” Katya exclaimed, stepping around the other woman. She bent down to talk to her. “Bridgit, did you find a pair of my pointe shoes in your bag? I think I may have dropped them in there by mistake a few days ago.”

  “Sorry, Katya,” the younger ballerina groaned as she strained to do a few more sit-ups. “I didn’t see them.”