The Nutcracker Ballet Mystery (13 page)

was trying to click in her mind. Then she remembered.

“Grace Turner. G. T.!” Nancy said excitedly. Twirling

around, she retrieved her purse from the top of the

desk.

“G. T.?” Bess asked in a puzzled voice.

Nancy dug in her purse and pulled out the lace

handkerchief. “They’re the initials on the handkerchief

I found on the stage after the fire.”

Madame’s head snapped up. “You’re not suggesting

that Grace Turner was involved in the fire? Why, that’s

crazy!”

“You’ve really flipped, Nancy,” Bess said. “Grace

would have to be . . . umm . . . over fifty years old

now.”

“Wait a second,” George cut in. “Maybe it’s not

Grace, but someone who wants us to think it’s Grace.”

“Well, there’s one way to find out.” Nancy turned to

Madame. “May I borrow this picture?” she asked.

“Why, certainly,” the directress replied. “But please

take good care of it. It’s my last one.”

Just then, Nancy heard a creak outside in the

hallway. She glanced over at the door. It was halfway

shut. Putting her finger to her lips, she signaled the

others to be quiet, then tiptoed to the door. Carefully,

she put her hand on the knob and flung it open. The

hall was empty.

“Is anyone else here at the school besides Mrs.

Wolaski?” Nancy asked Madame.

“Not that I know of,” the directress said. “Shana

should be arriving shortly to try on her costume.”

Bess giggled. “Maybe it was the ghost of Grace

Turner,” she said.

“Right,” Nancy muttered to herself. Maybe her ideas

about Madame Dugrand’s old rival had been a little

farfetched, but at this point, Nancy wasn’t going to rule

out anything.

After helping Madame straighten the rest of the

office, Bess, Nancy, and George went back out into the

hall.

“What now?” Bess asked.

“We’re off to the police station,” Nancy replied,

heading toward the front door.

“To report the theft?” George asked, puzzled.

Nancy chuckled. “I doubt the police would care that

an old picture was taken. No, we’re going to find out

more about Grace Turner.”

Half an hour later, Nancy, Bess, and George were in

Chief McGinnis’s office at the police station.

“I’ll be glad to have our technician do an age

progression on this,” the chief said, holding the picture

up. “We will have to blow the photo up first, though, so

it’ll be a bit grainy.”

“What’s an age progression?” Bess asked.

“Well, it’s a process in which a computer scans a

photo and is able to show what a person might look like

however many years from now you want,” Chief

McGinnis explained. “It’s a technique that’s been used

to track children who have been missing a long time.”

“That’s neat,” George said. “So we’ll be able to tell

what Grace Turner looks like now.”

The chief laughed. “Or what the computer thinks

she should look like, anyway.”

“That’s what I need.” Nancy had already given him a

summary of what was going on at the school. “When

will it be ready?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?” The chief

grinned at Nancy’s impatient look. “I’m afraid the

technician isn’t even here on Sunday, so you’ll have to

hold your horses.”

“Okay. We’ll pick it up tomorrow.” Nancy thanked

the police officer, and the girls left the office.

“Where are we going now?” George asked.

Bess pulled a face. “Let me guess. Back to the dance

school, right?”

Nancy grinned. “How’d you guess? I want to keep

an eye on things. Besides, I have lots of work to do as

prop mistress. But we’ll stop off at Yogurt Heaven for

lunch, my treat.”

“Thanks.” Bess sighed. “I’ll need the energy.

Knowing Mrs. Wolaski, she’ll have plenty of sewing for

me to do.”

“So why do you think the snowmobiler tried to run

us over?” George asked Nancy an hour later. The two

girls were in the prop room, painting red and white

stripes on the pillars. Nancy was standing on top of two

boxes, trying to reach the top of a pillar.

“My guess is that the person was trying to scare us

off.” Nancy bent down and dipped her brush in the red

paint. “Unless they really were trying to hurt one of

us,” she added grimly. “After all, with Bess or me out of

the way, it would help foul up the production. There

are only four more days until the dress rehearsal.”

George looked up at Nancy and a drip of paint

splattered on her cheek. “Hey!” George laughed. “Let’s

keep it on the pillars, okay?” Then her tone grew

serious. “You know, until the snowmobile thing,

nobody has really gotten hurt. But the snowmobile”—

she shuddered—“could have broken both Bess’s legs.”

“Mmmm.” Nancy stopped painting. “Well, if our

culprits’ plan is to sabotage The Nutcracker, then we’ve

foiled them. So far, everybody’s worked hard to keep

the show on schedule. That means whoever the culprits

are, they’re starting to get desperate.”

George nodded. “You’re right. Now we just have to

figure out who did it.”

“Who did what?” a deep voice asked from the

doorway.

Nancy swung around. Lawrence was leaning against

the door frame, his hands clasped behind him. For a

second, butterflies fluttered in Nancy’s stomach as she

wondered what he was holding. Another tire iron?

“We were trying to figure out who broke into the

school,” George answered.

Lawrence snorted. “That’s easy. Ms. Drew and Ms.

Marvin broke into the school. Then they made up a

stupid story about some mouse attacking them.”

Nancy jumped lightly off the boxes. “Oh, really?”

she raised one brow. “Then who locked us in the prop

room? You?”

Lawrence stepped forward, his arms still behind

him. “You’ve already accused me once. Why don’t you

use your imagination? Maybe you girls locked

yourselves in on purpose.”

“Why, that’s a clever thought.” Nancy pretended to

be surprised. She moved closer to George and out of

Lawrence’s reach. Even though he had a teasing smile

on his face, she wasn’t sure what he was up to. “And

why would we do that?”

Lawrence shrugged. “To make me look bad. I think

you’re working with our prima ballerina, Ms. Shana

Edwards. And I know she would do anything to keep

me down.”

Suddenly, the dancer thrust one hand from behind

his back and into Nancy’s face. Startled, Nancy jumped

backward, knocking into George. Wide eyes and a

wicked, toothy grin stared back at Nancy. It was the

nutcracker doll.

Lawrence laughed. “Nasty-looking little fellow, isn’t

he? But he’s as good as new. So how about putting him

in a safe place until Thursday’s dress rehearsal? I don’t

want to have to fix him again.”

“You didn’t need to scare us with him like that.”

George snatched the doll from Lawrence’s hands.

Just then, a scream from the hall made all of them

freeze.

“That’s Shana!” Lawrence yelled, a horrified

expression on his face. Turning, he dashed out the prop

room door. Nancy and George raced down the hall

behind him.

Nancy could see Shana standing at the top of the

basement steps. The pretty dancer’s green eyes were

wide with horror as she cradled her Sugar Plum Fairy

costume in her arms.

“Just look what someone has done to my costume!”

Shana cried. “It’s ruined.” She held up the once-

beautiful dress. Its satin bodice had been cut to shreds!

“Shana! Are you all right?” Lawrence asked, throwing

his arms around the frightened dancer.

Tears welled in Shana’s eyes. “Yes,” she said shakily.

“But when I went to the wardrobe room to try on my

costume, I found it thrown into a corner.” Shana held

up the costume again. Jagged lines zigzagged through

the satin bodice, and the wispy silver tulle skirt had

been yanked from the top.

“It’s been cut with very sharp scissors,” Nancy said,

fingering the ruined dress.

“What’s going on?” Madame Dugrand came up

behind Nancy. When she saw the costume, she let out

a cry. “Shana! Your beautiful costume! Who would do

such a thing?”

“Her costume?” a trembling voice broke in from

down the hall. “Has something happened to it?”

Nancy turned to see Mrs. Wolaski come out of

studio A, grasping Michelle Edwards’s hand for

balance. Michelle was dressed in her Clara nightgown.

One sleeve had just been pinned on. Behind Michelle

and the wardrobe mistress, Bess was carrying a tape

measure and pin cushion.

Mrs. Wolaski’s face paled as she hobbled toward

Shana. Reaching out, she gently took the shredded

garment from Shana’s arms.

“All my hard work destroyed,” she said in a quivery

voice.

Madame put her arm around Mrs. Wolaski’s

shoulders. “Oh, Gertrude. I’m so sorry.”

Michelle burst out crying and flung herself at her

sister. “Shana. What are you going to do? Now you

can’t be the Sugar Plum Fairy, and—”

“Hey!” Bess broke in. She knelt down and put an

arm around Michelle. “Have some faith. Mrs. Wolaski

and I will perform a little magic and make your sister a

whole new costume.”

“Really?” Michelle sniffed.

“Really,” Bess replied. But when Nancy glanced

over at the white-haired wardrobe mistress, she wasn’t

sure the older woman was up to it. Her shoulders were

slumped in defeat.

“This whole thing was directed at me,” Mrs. Wolaski

said, looking at Madame. “Everyone knows I spent

weeks designing and making this costume.”

“No. You’re wrong,” Shana said bitterly. “It’s me the

person’s after.” She looked directly at Lawrence. “I

think you did this to hurt me. You and Darci.”

“Now wait just a minute,” Lawrence retorted. “I’m

sick of being Mr. Bad Guy. This show is just as

important to me. Why would I ruin it?”

George spoke up. “Because you and Darci are both

jealous of Shana.”

“And you and Darci were the only two who weren’t

at the gala all night,” Bess chimed in. “You had to be

the ones who broke into the school and rammed our

car.”

Lawrence turned bright red. “That’s crazy. You want

to know what Darci and I did last night?”

“Yes,” Shana replied in a quiet voice.

Everyone stared expectantly at Lawrence. For a

second, he looked around at all the faces. Then he let

out a sigh.

“All right. I didn’t want to say anything, because

Darci made me promise not to. She’s afraid of what

might happen, and . . .” He hesitated. “Well, she’s kind

of embarrassed.”

“Excuse me,” Mrs. Wolaski interrupted. “But I’d

better go downstairs and work on Shana’s costume.

Maybe the skirt can be saved, and I can take a bodice

from another costume, and ...” Turning, she started

down the steps, muttering to herself.

“I don’t know why you’re all so mad at Darci,”

Michelle said suddenly. “She’s still at home. Dad’s

bringing her later. She couldn’t have cut up the

costume.”

Shana sighed. “You just don’t understand, Michelle.”

“Maybe I should finish fitting Michelle’s costume,”

Bess suggested. Taking the younger girl’s hand, she led

her back to studio A.

“So go on, Lawrence,” Shana said, her voice

trembling a bit.

He held up one hand. “Look, this isn’t easy. I feel

like I’m betraying Darci.”

“Well, someone needs to explain what’s going on,”

Nancy said. “The dress rehearsal is four days away.

Whoever is trying to ruin the show is getting

desperate.”

Lawrence shook his head. “All I can do is tell you

what happened and hope you’ll believe me for once.”

“I’ll believe you, Lawrence,” Madame said, patting

his arm. “You’ve been like a son to me. I can’t imagine

you doing anything to hurt me.”

“Thanks.” Lawrence gave her an appreciative grin,

then glanced at Shana.

Madame motioned them all to follow her down the

hall. “I think we’d better discuss this in my office,” she

suggested.

When everyone had piled into the office, Lawrence

took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll admit that, when Shana

came back and Madame asked her to help with the

choreography, I was plenty mad. I even tried to make

Shana look bad at rehearsals, which I’m sorry for. It