The Nutcracker Ballet Mystery (2 page)

we still thought we should’ve had the lead roles.” Bess

slid the soldier uniform back with the others. “Yeah,

but this seems different. Madame’s so nervous it’s

affecting everyone.”

“How’s Shana taking all of this?” George asked. “She

did come all the way from New York for the

production.”

“I don’t know if Shana has any idea of what’s going

on,” Bess said, taking her coat from the back of a chair.

But I do know she wants to see you both.”

“Great,” George said.

“Let me buy a ticket to the gala, then we can find

Shana and say hello,” Nancy suggested.

“Good idea,” Bess said.

The girls headed upstairs, where the hallway was no

longer empty. This time, several older boys and girls

dressed in sweats and leotards were limbering up

before the next class.

When Nancy, George, and Bess reached Madame

Dugrand’s office, the door was open. Looking over

Bess’s shoulder, Nancy noticed that the small area was

filled with file folders and papers. Madame Dugrand, a

slim, attractive woman in her early fifties, was sitting in

a swivel chair behind an old-fashioned rolltop desk.

The desk was cluttered with papers and envelopes, and

to the right of it was a computer on a stand.

Bess knocked on the door frame, and Madame

looked up from an open ledger. When she saw who it

was, she smiled brightly. Nancy thought that despite

her gray hair, Madame hadn’t aged since they’d been

students eight years ago.

“Bess!” the directress exclaimed, standing up. “How

do the costumes look?”

“Great. The Sugar Plum Fairy costume is a work of

art.” Bess stepped into the office, then motioned to

Nancy and George. “I brought two former students to

see you. And one of them wants to buy a gala ticket.”

Madame’s smile widened. “Nancy Drew and George

Fayne! What a pleasant surprise!”

“Nancy’s the one who needs a ticket,” George

explained. “I wish I could go to the gala, too,” she

added quickly, “but I have a party that night after a

cross-country race.”

“You always were athletic,” Madame Dugrand told

her. “And, Nancy, what are you up to these days?”

“She’s only the best teen detective in the world,”

Bess cut in.

Nancy laughed. “Not exactly ‘the best.’ ”

“Well, I’m glad you’ll be able to come to the gala,”

Madame said as she opened her desk drawer and

hunted for the tickets. “As I recall, you three used to

know Shana—”

Suddenly, a high-pitched alarm went off.

Bess jumped nervously. “What’s that?”

In a flash, Madame Dugrand rushed past the girls

and into the hall. “The fire alarm,” she called over her

shoulder.

Following Madame Dugrand into the hallway,

Nancy asked, “Was there a fire drill scheduled for

today?”

No!” Madame exclaimed, breaking into a jog. “This

must be a real fire!”

Old Times, New Crimes

“We have to get the students out of the building right

away!” Madame Dugrand’s voice was frantic.

Nancy knew they had to hurry. A faint whiff of

smoke was already drifting down the hall. Bess and

George were right behind her. “Bess!” Nancy called.

“Phone the fire department. Then run down to the

basement and make sure Mrs. Wolaski heard the fire

alarm.”

With a nod, Bess picked up the office phone. “I’ll

check to see that the locker room is cleared,” George

said, heading through a swinging door.

Nancy and Madame Dugrand raced down the hall

and into the first studio.

An older girl was standing in the center of the room,

a panic-stricken expression on her face. Several kids

were dashing back and forth, squealing loudly.

Madame Dugrand clapped her hands several times.

“Quiet!” she commanded. “Line up behind Miss

Sarah.”

Realizing Madame Dugrand had the situation in

hand, Nancy rushed to the next room. A tall, striking

red-haired woman was waving a dozen girls in leotards

toward the doorway. Nancy realized I lie redhead was

Shana Edwards.

“Class! Get in line!” Shana ordered in a firm voice.

Nancy grabbed two young boys as they attempted to

dash by her and pushed them into the line behind

Shana. “Quickly, you must leave the building!” Nancy

said as she helped herd the group into the hall.

Bess dashed up beside her. “The basement’s empty,”

she gasped. “Mrs. Wolaski must already be outside.”

A girl about nine years old stopped and tugged on

Nancy’s sleeve. “What about our coats?” she asked.

Her hair was the same shade of red as Shana’s. “Can’t

we run into the dressing room for them?”

Bess shook her head. “No, Michelle. We must do

what we did during our drill earlier this week. Now,

hurry and follow your sister.” She gave the girl a gentle

push toward the outside door.

“That’s Shana’s little sister, Michelle,” Bess

whispered to Nancy as they hurried to check the recital

hall. “She’s Clara in The Nutcracker this year.”

Bess helped Nancy open the double doors into the

recital hall. The two of them peered inside. The long

rows of chairs and dark stage looked empty. Nancy

sniffed the air.

“I smell smoke,” she said.

“Then let’s get out of here.” Swinging around, Bess

started toward the hall. For a second, Nancy hesitated.

If she could locate the fire and put it out, it might

prevent damage to the building.

Bess gave Nancy’s arm an urgent tug. “I know what

you’re thinking, Nancy Drew, and don’t you dare. You

leave the fire to the fire fighters.”

“You’re right.” Quickly, Nancy and Bess shut the

doors and jogged down the now empty hall. They met

George at the outside doors. She was ushering the last

of the children down the slippery steps and into the

parking lot.

“Is everybody out?” Madame Dugrand asked from

the sidewalk. She was standing in the middle of a

shivering group of youngsters. The sky was dark with

clouds, and a light snow was beginning to fall.

“Yes,” Nancy called back. The blast of a siren made

her look out into the street. A huge River Heights fire

truck careened into the parking lot.

Racing down the icy sidewalk, Nancy met the first

fireman off the truck.

“We smelled smoke in the recital hall.” She pointed

toward the left side of the building. Waving to the

others, the fireman headed in that direction.

As Nancy walked back to George and Bess, she

scanned the small crowd huddled in front of the dance

school. Shana Edwards was leading two kids toward a

waiting car. Mrs. Wolaski was hobbling down the walk,

holding on to the arm of a blond-haired young man

about twenty years old. Several parents had driven up

in front of the school. Madame Dugrand was

separating their children from the group gathered on

the sidewalk.

“Madame Dugrand,” Nancy called as she strode

across the snow-covered grass, “maybe we should get

the kids into our cars. It’ll be warmer.”

“That’s a good idea, Nancy. Thank you for your

help.”

Just then a woman wearing a purple warm-up suit

pushed past Nancy. A frightened-looking little girl in a

leotard and tights clung to her hand.

“This fire is the last straw, Alicia!” the woman

declared to Madame Dugrand. “I quit. You’ll have to

get someone else to organize the props. And you’ll have

to replace Tiffany, too. I’m pulling her out of The

Nutcracker—and the school.”

With that, the woman spun around, dragging the

unhappy little girl after her.

Madame Dugrand’s face flushed brightly. But she

quickly leaned down to a young boy who was clinging

to her leg. “Here’s something to keep you warm,

Patrick,” she said as she took off her sweater and

wrapped it around his shoulders.

When she straightened, she signaled to the blond-

haired young man with a wave of her hand. “Lawrence!

Unlock the van. We’ll put as many students in it as we

can.”

For the next few minutes, Nancy helped Lawrence,

George, Bess, and Madame get the children settled in

the van and in her Mustang. Several more parents

picked up their kids, so there was room enough for

everyone. Soon only Nancy and Madame Dugrand

were left outside in the snow. Fire fighters were

streaming in and out of the building, but Nancy hadn’t

seen any fire or smelled any more smoke.

“What do you think caused the fire?” Nancy asked.

Shaking her head, Madame wrapped her arms

tighter across her chest. She was looking worriedly

toward the school. Her shoulders were hunched, and a

light sprinkling of snow covered her gray hair. Just

then, the fire chief strode down the steps. Nancy

followed Madame Dugrand as she walked up the

sidewalk to meet him.

“It appears that someone accidentally started a fire,”

the chief said in a stern voice. “Part of your backstage

curtain was burning.” He held up a cigarette enclosed

in a plastic bag. “I suspect it was caused by this.”

Madame gasped. “I do not allow smoking in the

building,” she said indignantly.

The fire chief shrugged. “Someone broke the rules.”

He stuck the bag under his coat, then pulled a pad and

a pen out of his back pocket.

“Actually,” the chief continued, “whoever set the fire

probably did you a favor, Ms. Dugrand. Your building

has several fire violations. Frayed wires, paint-soaked

rags, and an exit blocked with chairs. It’s no wonder the

whole place didn’t go up in flames. This,” he said,

ripping the top sheet from the pad and handing it to

Madame Dugrand, “is a citation. All the items on this

list need to be corrected by next Friday or the fire

department will close you down.”

Madame Dugrand’s face turned ashen as her blue

eyes traveled down the list. “Next Friday is our opening

night,” she said, looking up.

The chief shrugged again. “That’s your problem.

Fires are mine, and I don’t want one here. You can all

go on in now,” he added brusquely. Then he turned to

his crew and yelled, “Let’s pack it up, guys!”

Madame Dugrand didn’t move. Her eyes were

frozen on the citation in her hand.

“We’d better get the kids back into the school,”

Nancy said gently.

With a deep sigh, Madame nodded. Twenty minutes

later, the students who hadn’t been picked up by their

parents were back in class.

“I’m going to take a look at the burned curtain,”

Nancy told Bess and George.

“But the fire chief already checked everything, and

I’m starved,” Bess protested, but Nancy was already

starting down the hall.

“Hey!” a voice called. Nancy turned to see Shana

Edwards coming out of the locker room. She was tall

and slender, wearing a fuchsia leotard and pink tights.

Her red hair was pulled back and tucked into a

chignon, accenting her long neck and straight posture.

“Nancy Drew!” Shana exclaimed, her emerald eyes

sparkling. “I was hoping I’d see you.” Just then she

spotted George. The girls gave each other warm hugs.

“And we were hoping to see the famous Shana

Edwards,” George said, holding her old friend at arm’s

length.

“Too famous to have lunch with some dance school

dropouts?” Bess joked.

“Never,” Shana replied. “I’ve got to work with

Dewdrop and her flowers first, though. They’ve been

having a little trouble with their scene. Would you guys

like to watch? If you can stick around until it’s over, we

can talk then. I’d love to know what everyone in River

Heights has been up to. You know, all the gossip.”

Bess rolled her eyes. “Oh, it’s sooo exciting around

here.”

The girls burst out laughing.

“And we’d love to hear all about New York,” George

added.

“Great.” Shana squeezed Nancy’s hand. “And

thanks, guys, for all the help during the fire alarm.

Whew! What a madhouse.”

“No problem,” Nancy replied. “Listen, I’ve got to

pick up my ticket for the gala, then I’ll meet you guys

in—”

“Studio A,” Shana filled in. Then, linking her arms

with Bess’s and George’s, she hurried them down the

hall.

Nancy continued toward the stage area. She knew