The Dance (4 page)

Her mother was going to be ecstatic. Melanie couldn't tell her the truth, and Mom was going to see this as a big step forward career-wise. When Melanie hadn't made Leona's troupe and class when Leona took over the school, her mother had mourned for weeks. But it had given Melanie a chance to reconsider the idea of making dance a career. She realized that, as hard as she'd worked, she had been losing interest. And fewer rehearsals had given her time to pursue other interests—like show choir and Bryan. This was the first time she'd ever taken time to date seriously. Here went that free time. But dancing for Leona today, remembering the magic, had made her wonder why she ever thought of quitting. Dancing was her life.

“Hello,” Hank announced, looking through the window. “If I'm not mistaken your friend has arrived.”

Melanie ran to let him in. “Where's Seth?”

“Circling the block. Come on.” Bryan stomped his brown leather dress boots and shook snow off his down jacket. He glanced at Hank, acknowledged Mel's introduction, then smiled broadly at Melanie.

Melanie smiled back. She knew he would have kissed her had they been alone.

“So what's the verdict?”

Melanie feigned an expression of gloom for just a second. “I'm
in!
” She jumped once to her toes, then threw her arms around Bryan. “I was good, Bryan. I was really good. And I remembered how much I love to dance.”

“She was terrific.” Hank's smile was the one Melanie recognized as the Hank Special. “Hey, I'll be right back. I'm forgetting to call my mom. She'll worry.” Hank disappeared into the back of the lobby.

“I asked Hank to join us, Bryan. Is that okay? She's in the troupe. She's really friendly, and I think Seth might like her. Also, if I decide I can trust her, there will be two of us on the inside.”

“I don't think you should trust anyone,” Bryan warned.

“Let me be the judge of that. I'm really intuitive to people most of the time.” She pulled the necklace from under her coat. “Look familiar? It was Paulie's.”

“That's the necklace from the Arbuthnot shop,” Bryan said. “How come you have it?”

“It's mine. Madame Leona gave it to me. She's given one to each of her dancers.”

Bryan stared at her for a minute. “Melanie, get out. Before it's too late. Please don't do this. We'll just go to the police with our suspicions.”

“Bryan.” Melanie took both his hands. “You're being unreasonable. The police already ruled Paulie's death an accident. And they would never listen to what little evidence we have. In fact, we have no evidence, just suspicion.”

“I don't like that woman, that Madame what's-her-name. I don't want you—”

“Heads up,” Hank said. “If Seth drives a banged-up green Camaro, then he's double parked, waiting for us.”

Hank had finished her phone call and now stood in front of the theater's large front windows. She drew patterns on the glass after having breathed on it. Melanie realized she was politely trying to ignore her talk with Bryan.

Melanie was relieved to go outside and get a breath of fresh air. Bryan was really upset, and that bothered her. But in addition to worrying about him, she couldn't stop thinking about the troupe. She didn't know whether to be excited or scared.

three

B
RYAN SLID HIS
hand away when Melanie reached for it. He couldn't explain why, but the closeness he had anticipated at seeing her had vanished. He knew if he looked at her, he'd see hurt in her eyes. A part of him wouldn't hurt her for the world, but he needed a minute to think about this.

Cold, he was so cold. He shivered, even though Seth had the car's heater going full blast. Glancing out the window at the snow closing them in, he felt smothered, trapped, not in control. He felt afraid. Fear—that was it, he was intensely afraid. Not for himself, but for Melanie.

Seth maneuvered them out of traffic before he spoke. “It is much too quiet in the back seat, don't you think, mystery lady? My name's Seth Rubens. I won't ask what they're doing, but if we had more polite friends, they would have introduced us before they got so involved.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Seth,” Melanie apologized, leaning forward between the bucket seats. “This is Hank Brooks. She's in the ballet troupe I auditioned for. The troupe I got into, Seth. I haven't even told you I made it!”

“I'm easily ignored, I know,” Seth said, looking in the rearview mirror at Melanie. “I've accepted that. Don't worry about hurting my feelings. I have none. You can call me Mr. Spock.” Seth ran a hand through his dark curly hair and sat up straighter. He looked at his new passenger. “Hank?”

Hank laughed. “My real name is Hannah, but no one except Madame Leona and my mother calls me that. I have three older brothers who would only include me in the family if they could pretend I was another male.”

“Have they taken a good look at you lately?” Seth didn't usually pay much attention to girls, but Bryan could see that he was quickly warming toward Hank. He forced himself to pay attention to the present. Melanie was here, right beside him, and perfectly safe.

Hank laughed again. “I'd say you're off to a good start, Mr. Rubens. And I'll take that as a compliment. Oh, turn left at the next light. If you don't have anyplace special in mind, I'll introduce you to the best pizza in the state of New York.” Not shy at all, Hank took charge of the party.

“I'm game. I was tired of Dino's.” Seth glanced around. “So you made the troupe, Mel? Congratulations—I guess.” Seth almost gave away their secret.

“Hank helped me relax.” Melanie said quickly. “I've never danced better.”

“Eating pizza makes me very nervous, Hank. Can I count on you to help me relax when we get into a booth?”

Hank considered his request for a minute. “I don't know why not. I'm glad to have found my mission in life. Maybe I'll start some classes and—”

“I think you'd do better with private lessons.” Seth pulled into the parking lot where Hank pointed.

“You would.” Hank laughed and hopped out of the car before Seth could come around and help her.

“Bryan, are you all right?” Melanie asked. Hank had hooked her arm through Seth's and steered him toward the small neighborhood restaurant, leaving them alone.

Bryan took a deep breath and pushed aside his feelings. Telling Melanie he was scared for her seemed ridiculous. “I'm fine, Mel. I was just thinking about something.”

“About me?” she teased.

“Yes, if you have to know. I was thinking I didn't get a hello kiss back there. Now that Hank has so cleverly left us alone, I'll take advantage. I think I like that girl.”

“Whoa, should I be jealous?” Mel turned her face up for Bryan's kiss.

Bryan held her for an extra minute, then said, “We probably shouldn't keep them waiting.” He tucked a strand of Melanie's hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek lightly with his fingers.

“I think they'll understand,” Melanie said, but she whirled away and skidded toward the neon-lighted doorway. The C in Calloni's popped and fizzed as if it were on the verge of self-destructing.

A blast of warm air hit them when they entered the restaurant, along with the buzz of voices and the clink of glasses. The front of the restaurant was a bar, but it stepped down into two dim rooms of booths and tables. Bryan could have predicted the red-checkered tablecloths, the candles in straw-covered bottles, and the plastic roses. But if the decor left nothing to the imagination, the smell coming from the kitchen made up for it.

“
Bella, bella,
” Seth called to Melanie from the booth he and Hank had found. “Room for one more beautiful woman here.”

“How about Bryan?” Melanie pretended to look sad.

“He can find his own bevy of beauties. I don't know what he did to deserve you, anyway.” Seth jumped up and pretended to seat Melanie.

I don't know either, Bryan reminded himself. Half the senior guys in Bellponte would jump at the chance to date her. A lot of them had told him so.

“Go stick your head in the tomato sauce, Rubens.” Bryan pushed Seth gently aside and slid in beside Melanie. “Just because no woman will look at you—”

“Hey, they look, they look. They just know they wouldn't meet my high standards.”

“How high are they?” Hank grabbed four menus from behind the napkin holder and passed them around.

Seth stared at Hank and squinted his dark eyes. He folded his arms and pretended he was calculating. “Ummm, about five feet five—maybe six.”

“Six.” Hank flipped open the laminated menu. “The pizza is
molto bene
. I can recommend it highly. But for an even greater pasta experience, their cannelloni al Giogio are incredible.” She leaned forward with a serious look on her face and whispered. “Someone told me the Mafia bosses all leave requests in their burial orders that an order of George's cannelloni be included in their coffins.”

“With tux shirts and bow ties? Sounds kind of messy, if you ask me.” Seth ran his finger over the menu.

The foursome laughed, then quieted to the task of ordering dinner, deciding to get both the pizza and the cannelloni and share.

“There goes my girlish figure,” Hank moaned. “Frau Vodka will have to let out my costume again.

“Frau Vodka?” Bryan asked.

“Voska—Mother Germany,” Mel explained. “You remember. Your favorite shopkeeper, the one who wouldn't let you play with her swords and knives.”

“Oh, her. I wondered what her purpose in life was.” Bryan leaned back, pulling Melanie with him. He circled her shoulders with his arm, willing her to forgive him for hurting her feelings when she'd been so excited. The way she snuggled closer made him think she had.

“If she points that stick at me one more time, I'm going to ask for police protection.” Hank tried to square her jaw to imitate Frau Voska's stern demeanor.

“You make me feel I'm missing something by not meeting this woman.” Seth exaggerated a sad look.

“To know her is to luff her.” Bryan imitated Voska's accent badly. “Picture a German tank dressed in a black dress and brogans.”

“Gotcha.” Seth saluted and squared his shoulders.

“They'd made a cute couple, don't you think, Mel? Rubens and Voska?” Hank grinned at Seth's foolishness.

“There'll be no more double dates.” Bryan looked at Melanie and smiled. He squeezed her arm, then pushed her forward. “Show Seth that badge of honor you won.”

“You mean my necklace?” Melanie pulled it from under her sweater. “Madame Leona gave it to me, Seth. She said all her girls wear one—the girls in the ballet, I assume she meant.”

“She did.” Hank pulled hers from her purse. “I only wear mine when I go to rehearsal. It's too heavy.”

Seth took a medallion into each hand. His face was suddenly serious. Pulling his bottom lip into his teeth, he studied them.

“This is quite a piece of hardware, Mel. Yours too, Hank. They look old. You say each girl in the troupe has one?”

“I haven't seen them on the other dancers.” Melanie turned the silver disc over.

Hank flipped hers over. “I have. The back of each one is different. A different animal. Melanie has a panther, while I'm a lioness.” Hank growled. She seemed to be trying to lighten the conversation again.

“You think there's any relationship to the girl and the animal?” Bryan asked, half serious.

“Of course not, Bryan.” Melanie shrugged. “Remember that this was Paulie's. It was the only one left.”

“These are old.” Seth kept turning the necklaces over and over. “And I'd say valuable. Your stone is alexandrite, Mel. That's very expensive if it's real. And my guess is that it is. Where would she get—how many?”

“Seven.” Hank supplied the number.

“Seven of these that are alike, or matching?”

“Who knows?” Melanie pulled her medallion back and ran her hands over it. “But she owns that antique store. She came across them someplace, then liked the idea of giving them to the troupe. She'll want them back after the recital.”

“I'm just realizing Leona must have asked for Pauline's back after she—after the accident.” Hank slipped her necklace back into her tote bag.

“Or when Paulie fought with her and quit,” Melanie said.

The subject had finally come up. It was as if they'd done everything to avoid it, but now it lay before them, heavy and unavoidable.

Melanie looked at Bryan with an unspoken question. He understood what she meant and nodded. He liked Hank, and maybe she could be of some help. She glanced at Seth. His vote was yes.

Melanie took Hank's hand. “Hank, I hope I can trust you. I think I can.”

Hank stared at Melanie, then Bryan, and Seth, a question on her face. “Hey, this sounds serious. What's going on, guys?”

“I didn't try out for the troupe today just to further my dance career.” Melanie started to explain. “In fact, when Paulie said she was quitting, I'd decided to do the same. I hadn't gotten up the nerve to tell my mother.”

Seth continued. “Mel's mother is ambitious to the max.”

Melanie ignored Seth's remark about her mother, since it was right on target. “I lied to you at the studio, Hank. I did know I was taking Paulie's place. Pauline McMasters was my best friend.”

“And to make a long story short,” Seth said, “Mel doesn't think Paulie's fatal car crash was an accident.”

For a moment, the bubbly Hank seemed speechless. “You—you mean, she—you all think Paulie was—was—”

“Mel has convinced us that someone tampered with her car.” Bryan said the word that hung over them unspoken. “We all think Paulie was murdered.”

four

“M
URDERED
?” H
ANK GASPED
. Her face got as white as the sugar on their table and freckles stood out like specks of cinnamon. “How—how do you know that?”