“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?”
Chapter
Ten
NANCY 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 getti
ng 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.
Morgan called, “Okay, that’s good, Joseph. Clear the ring. Intermission. Clowns? Where’re my joeys? Let’s see some walk-arounds!”
“You have only one bike?” George asked Eduardo.
“One is all I can afford,” Eduardo replied.
“A customized bike like that costs an arm and a leg,” Richard put in.
“I don’t think whoever stole it wanted the bike itself,” Nancy said. “I think the person intended to run Natalia down. He or she probably abandoned it and made a fast getaway. Do you ride, Richard?” she asked, wondering how he knew so much about what Eduardo’s bike would cost.
“I used to, a little. But I messed up my knee pretty badly about ten years ago. The doctor who put it back together warned me it wouldn’t take any more abuse,” Richard replied.
Nancy gazed at him a long moment. But then she dismissed the idea of his involvement. He had no reason to want to kill Natalia—he didn’t even know her. Nancy couldn’t go around suspecting every person who’d ever ridden a motorcycle.
“I hope it turns up,” Eduardo was saying. “It isn’t just the money, it’s our act. What’s the thrill of one guy in the sphere? Two of us in there, looping around just missing each other by inches, now that’s entertainment! That’s what the audience wants to see. If that bike doesn’t show up, Marshall Keiser may cancel our act.”
Bess patted Eduardo’s shoulder. “I’ll bet Nancy’s right. Someone will find it and return it to you.”
Eduardo changed the subject. “You’re coming to the bash tonight, aren’t you?” he asked Bess.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Bess said, smiling.
“Great!” Eduardo flashed a grin. Turning to Richard, he added, “Feel free to drop by.”
As Richard accepted, Nancy glanced at her watch. “We’d better go back to the motel. By the time we’ve gotten ready, it’ll be time to come back for the party.”
But what she really wanted to do with the time was call some sound shops and see if anyone remembered that Keiser had been there that morning.
They bid Richard and Eduardo goodbye and left the tent. Bess looked puzzled as they started for the gate. “It’s not even four o’clock, Nan. The party isn’t until seven.”
Nancy explained her plans. Besides, she was finding it hard to think clearly in the midst of all the commotion, and she did need to think. She was no closer to learning who’d tried to run down Natalia than she’d been moments after it happened.
• • •
The moment she returned to the motel, Nancy headed for the phone. She called every single sound shop in the Sarasota yellow pages, but no one remembered Keiser. Discouraged, she took a shower. She had just stepped out and pulled on her robe when Phillip Green called. As she listened, Nancy towel-dried her hair.
“The report on that license number just came in,” he told her. “The limo changed hands a number of times. But nineteen years ago, it was licensed to Victor Bykov of Manhattan.”
Nancy grabbed a pen and took the address.
“It’s been a long time. Bykov probably has moved,” Green warned. “And even if you do track him down, what can you learn from him?”
Nancy explained about the two clippings with Bykov’s picture. There was something in the way the chauffeur and the dancer were laughing together that made her hopeful they’d been friends. He might know whom she’d been seeing. Perhaps he had even driven them places.
After she finished talking to the lieutenant, Nancy dialed Manhattan information and asked for the phone number of Victor Bykov and gave the address. The operator said there was no listing for a Victor Bykov at all—at any address. Nancy bit her lip. A dead end.
Glancing at her watch, she saw it was time to get dressed for the party.
Bess was standing at the closet, trying to decide what to wear. “How about this coral-colored dress?” she asked.
“It’s a great color on you,” Nancy said.
As the girls were dressing, the phone rang again. Nancy reached for it and was excited to hear Stephanie Cole’s voice on the other end of the line.
“According to the file, Vera Neverenko entered the country eighteen years ago,” Stephanie said. “It says here she was traveling with the Russian Circus. Several years later she applied for and received American citizenship.”
“Then she is legal. Natalia said she was,” Nancy said. “But what’s she so afraid of? Is there more?”
“The file lists two people who entered the country with her. Piotr Neverenko, her husband, and an infant by the name of—let’s see, I wrote it here somewhere . . . Natalia Bykov.”
“Bykov?” Nancy caught her breath. “Did you say Bykov? But that means—” She lowered the phone in astonishment.
It meant that Natalia’s father was Irina’s chauffeur!
Chapter
Eleven
NANCY THANKED Stephanie for her help and hung up. When she told her friends what she’d just lea
rned, Bess shrieked, “You did it, Nan! You found Natalia’s father!”
“Not yet. But I do know who I’m looking for,” Nancy said. “It was in the picture all along. That shared laugh. The way they were looking at each other.”
“How did Irina and her chauffeur get separated?” Bess asked.
“Irina had to return home with her ballet company,” George pointed out.
“She could have defected as Vera did,” Nancy said, thinking out loud. “Though it wouldn’t have been easy. Vera, by the way, is a naturalized citizen. And I think I know now what she’s been trying to hide.”
Bess looked puzzled. “I don’t.”
“Natalia’s name was listed as Bykov. Vera didn’t adopt her. That’s why she doesn’t have any papers. That’s why she changed both their names to Petronov.”
Bess’s blue eyes were round. “You mean, Vera kidnapped her?”
“No. But I don’t think she got her from an orphanage. Maybe Irina and Vera were friends, and Irina asked Vera before she died to care for Natalia.” Still mulling it over, Nancy put on a white miniskirt. “She may have chosen Vera and Piotr because she knew they were coming to this country. Maybe she wanted them to bring Natalia to Victor Bykov.”
“Then why is Natalia still with Vera?” Bess asked.
“Good question.” Nancy pulled on a black, loose-weave sweater and crossed to the window that overlooked the ocean. Gulls soared over water that pitched and tossed like her thoughts.
“Maybe Bykov didn’t want Natalia,” she said finally. “Or, for that matter, he could have been dead, or married, or lost—any number of reasons. But the way Vera’s resisting this search, I’m wondering if she didn’t just decide to keep the baby. She could have been hiding all these years from Bykov.”
“Wow, that’s some story!” Bess gasped.
“So far, that’s all it is,” Nancy pointed out. “We have to learn the truth.”
“But not tonight. Tonight we party.” George slipped a sheer white blouse over a sleeveless emerald green top and tied the shirttails at the waist of her white spandex leggings.