Dangerous Relations (8 page)

“Why?”

Nancy showed George the clipping. “I'm hoping he can trace this license number through the Department of Motor Vehicles.”

Bess's eyes shone with excitement. “You think they can trace the chauffeur?”

“I know it's a long shot,” Nancy said. “But we've got so few leads in this case. I'm willing to try anything.”

By the time Nancy got off the phone, her fries were cold. But Lieutenant Green had agreed to
run the license number through the Department of Motor Vehicles in New York City and in Washington, D.C., since the photographs had been taken in those two cities. Because the photograph of the limousine was so old, he'd warned her it might take a while.

Nancy quickly ate, then said, “Let's go back to the circus before the two o'clock rehearsal. I want to tell Natalia about Katrina's confession to oiling the bar. And we'll take the faxes. First, though, let's make a copy of the one with the chauffeur.” Something about it nagged at her, as if there was something she was missing.

The girls hurried to the lobby and got the copy made. Nancy tucked it into her bag. Moments later they were on their way to the circus.

As Nancy drove, she pulled the postcard out of her pocket, thinking of the typewriter in Keiser's office.

“It isn't clear what questions are making your secret pen pal here uneasy,” George said, reaching for the card. “Is it your search for Natalia's father? Or your questions about the attempts on Natalia's life?”

“Vera's the only one who's objected to my searching for Natalia's father,” Nancy said. “Keiser strikes me as a more face-to-face kind of man, though he was gone from the grounds this morning. So he had opportunity. Then there's Katrina. But it would have been hard for her to have delivered the note to the motel.”

“She could have sent someone else,” George pointed out. Nancy nodded—that was true of all the suspects.

The other thing she had to keep in mind was that the two cases could be related. It was possible that, for some unknown reason, someone out there was willing to kill to keep Natalia from finding her father.

It was one-fifteen by the time Nancy and her friends knocked on Natalia's door. Dressed for the rehearsal, she looked elegant in a brief white costume and fishnet tights.

“I know you don't have much time,” Nancy said. “But I wanted to tell you that Katrina confessed to oiling the bar.”

After Nancy recapped her conversation with Katrina, Natalia said angrily, “Maybe it's best if Hayden and I accept Ringling's offer. After this, working with Katrina is going to be impossible.”

“Have you told Vera about the offer?” Nancy asked.

“I told both Mother and Marshall today at lunch,” Natalia said. “Mother was proud and sad and happy, all at once. She knows it's a golden opportunity. Yet she hates to be left behind.”

“What did Mr. Keiser say?” Nancy asked.

“He grumped around. Once he gets mad, it takes him a long time to get over it.” Natalia sighed. “I can't believe Katrina oiled that bar! How do I know she won't try it again?”

“She knows we're onto her,” Nancy pointed
out. “She'd better make sure you
don't
get hurt because she's the most obvious suspect.”

“Maybe all three of you should sit down with Mr. Keiser and hash things out,” George said.

“That would be a good idea, unless Keiser is involved in the case, too,” Nancy said.

“Marshall wouldn't hurt me,” Natalia said quickly. But her face grew even longer as she added, “But then, a few days ago, I didn't think Katrina would, either.”

Natalia had every right to feel frightened, Nancy thought. “Maybe you shouldn't perform again until we find out who's behind these attacks.”

“I can't do that,” Natalia said. Her expression intense, she added, “That's not what the circus is about. No matter what happens, the show must go on. I'll just have to be extra careful.”

“That's dedication,” George said, smiling.

Nancy nodded at Bess, who had the faxes of the newspaper clippings. “We thought you might like to see these.”

A flush of excitement colored Natalia's cheeks as she accepted the faxes. Instantly engrossed, she didn't even look up when Nancy said, “I need to look at your scrapbook. There's a picture I want to see again.”

“Help yourself. It's in that closet at the end of the hallway,” Natalia said.

Nancy hurried down the hall and opened the
closet door. The first thing she saw was an old black typewriter.

Glancing back to make certain Natalia wasn't watching, Nancy slipped the postcard out of her pocket and into the typewriter. She hit several keys, then hit the letter
l
. It came out perfect. She hit the key a few more times to make certain, then rolled the card out. If Vera had sent the threat, it wasn't from that typewriter.

Nancy took the scrapbook down off the shelf and rejoined her friends on the sofa. She took out the copy she had made of the article with the close-up of Irina and the chauffeur. Then she opened the scrapbook to the
Post
picture, comparing the two to see if the car and chauffeur were the same. They were!

“You mean the same man drove her for the whole tour?” George asked. “I would have expected a different limousine service for every city.”

“If it was the same man, he may remember my mother!” Natalia cried. “He may even know who she was seeing.”

“That's what I'm hoping,” Nancy said, and went on to tell Natalia about having the license number traced.

“Nancy, thank you so much! I never could have done this alone!” Natalia's eyes shone with hope. “What a precious find these articles are. Thank you, thank you so much for all of these.”

“Bess is the one to thank. She spent the whole morning on the phone,” Nancy said.

Natalia hugged Bess. Then she stood up. “It's almost two—I'd better go. By the way,” she added, smiling, “there's an engagement party tonight for Hayden and me. Eduardo will use any excuse to throw a party. He's a good guy. But he's really down over his stolen motorcycle, and I'm hoping the party will take his mind off it. You'll all come, won't you?”

“We never miss a party,” Bess assured Natalia as they followed her to the tent.

Inside, Nancy nearly butted noses with a woman who had a huge snake coiled around her upper body. “Excuse me,” Nancy said, backing away.

In the tent, workers were busy leading show dogs, carrying props, and checking cables, ropes, and wires.

Natalia shot off to join Hayden, Katrina, and some other performers who were waiting on the bleachers. “Why didn't you tell her about Vera's real name?” George asked quietly.

“Finding out you don't even know your mother's real name isn't all that pleasant,” Nancy answered. “There's the rehearsal, then the party tonight. I'd hate to upset her right now.”

Just then Morgan York shouted into a megaphone, “Attention, please! We've got sound problems here, so listen up!”

As the noise leveled off, Morgan rushed through a roll call. Only one man failed to
answer. Morgan frowned, made a note on the paper on her clipboard, then continued. “Mr. Keiser will say a few words first. Then we'll bring the animals in and practice the walk-around.”

So Keiser would be occupied for a while. Nancy knew there would never be a better time to check the typewriter in his office. She beckoned for her friends to follow and ducked out.

“This is only going to take a second,” Nancy tried to reassure Bess as she approached Keiser's office, credit card in hand. “Stand outside and warn George if anyone comes toward the arena.”

“I'll knock if anyone does,” George said, stationing herself outside Keiser's door as Nancy let herself into his office.

Nancy closed the door and crossed to Keiser's desk. She moved a stack of papers off the old standard typewriter, rolled in her postcard, and typed several letters, including the letter /. The nerve endings in her fingers tingled. The letter was raised half a line! A perfect match!

Hearing something bump against the wall that separated Keiser's office from the prop room, Nancy jerked to attention. Her pulse surged as George knocked on the door. She raced to the window and slid it up.

The screen was stuck! It must have been painted over, she thought.

George's second, more urgent knock sent Nancy hurrying across the office to hide in the first tall cabinet. Then came footsteps. Her heart
pounded as she hid behind a sequined jacket. The dusty smell of it made her nose itch. Oh, no! she thought. She was going to sneeze. She covered her nose with both hands. But it was no use. The sneeze exploded.

Marshall Keiser's bellow rang out. “I hear you in there! What do you think you're doing?”

N
ANCY CRINGED
. Marshall Keiser had said no more questions. Breaking into his office had to be ten times worse. Pulse racing, she waited tensely for him to throw the cabinet door open.

But the door remained closed. Nancy listened hard. She heard voices coming from the prop room. Keiser was still bellowing—but not at her!

Relief rushed through her. The cabinet door creaked as she opened it. Wincing, she tiptoed soundlessly to the office door and opened it, checked to make sure there was no one in sight, and slipped out.

George had crossed the corridor so as not to give Nancy away. She was studying the circus posters. Her feeling of relief was obvious on her face as she turned and saw Nancy. In silent agreement, they raced out the front door.

“Where is he? I thought for sure he'd catch you!” Bess cried, her eyes wide with concern.

“He went into the prop room. From what I could hear, that guy who didn't show up for roll call was in there taking a nap. He was getting a good chewing out,” George said.

“Let's get out of here before he sees us and gets suspicious,” Nancy urged. She led the way back to the big top, climbed the nearest set of bleachers, and sat down.

They had missed the animals and performers marching in and parading before the audience of workers. The ringmaster was on the elephant drum, announcing the acts in his own special spiel.

Nancy wiped her forehead. It was hot in the tent. The heat seemed to be draining the circus people, too, for they were slow-moving and short-tempered. Morgan barked over the megaphone, “Get the lead out, girls! Smiles, I want smiles!”

Showgirls kicked, strongmen flexed, clowns juggled, acrobats tumbled and flipped while in the background the small band played. In the midst of it all, Nancy told Bess and George about the
l
on Keiser's typewriter.

“Then he
did
send the postcard!” Bess exclaimed.

“Not necessarily,” Nancy said, thinking it over. “Someone else could have used his typewriter. With or without his knowledge,” she
added, thinking of how easy it was to break into his office.

“The whole business just doesn't feel right,” Nancy went on after a minute. “Threatening me to my face, now that was his style. But an unsigned note . . .”

“I see what you mean,” George said. “But if it wasn't Keiser and it wasn't Vera, that leaves only Katrina.”

“Or it could be someone we haven't even considered. With a motive we haven't thought about yet,” Nancy added.

George nudged her. “Here comes that guy you were talking to at the party.”

“Nice tan,” Bess added in an undertone, as Richard Smith started up the bleachers.

Nancy returned Richard's smile. He looked trim and cool in tan slacks and a pale yellow shirt open at the neck. Nancy wished she looked as fresh as he did. She introduced him to her friends and said, “I didn't expect to see you today.”

“My dad and I took over the Grand Royal account just two months ago from another firm,” Richard explained as he sat down beside her. “We want Mr. Keiser to know the service will be as good or better than what he was getting before. I dropped by to make sure everything's going smoothly.”

“Oh, poor Eduardo!” Bess said. The cyclist was walking toward them, shoulders slumped. As he approached, riggers were securing the steel
mesh globe in ring two. As they stepped back, Joseph rode in the back door on his motorcycle, up a ramp and into the Sphere of Death.

“And now, in ring two, daringly executed by Joseph Pomatto, fifty dizzying, death-defying revolutions within the Sphere of Death!” cried the ringmaster, waving his arm dramatically.

Nancy's pulse hammered along with the drum roll. A showgirl secured the trap door. Joseph revved the motorcycle engine and started making high-speed circles within the globe.

“Haven't the police found your motorcycle yet?” Richard asked Eduardo as he joined them.

“No, unfortunately,” Eduardo said. Nancy looked at Richard out of the corner of her eye. He was very well informed for an outsider.