The Red Slippers (Nancy Drew Diaries #11)(19)

I pulled out my phone. NOW, I texted George.

A second later a fire alarm blared through the entire theater. Lights flashed over the theater exits. The dancers stopped in their tracks and covered their ears.

“You have GOT to be kidding me,” Jamison screamed over the ringing. “We DO NOT have time for this.” He threw down the papers he was holding. His face was bright red and a vein in his forehead pulsed in anger. I thought I had seen him mad before, but that seemed downright calm compared to the level of fury now emanating off him.

The dancers began exiting the building. “Where do you think you’re going?” Jamison yelled.

“It’s a fire alarm . . . ,” Nicole began.

“Do you smell smoke? Do you see flames? Does it feel hot in here to you?” Jamison asked.

“No,” Nicole said hesitantly.

“Then there’s no fire! This is a false alarm. You will stay and you will prepare. We open in four hours.”

My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe Jamison wouldn’t allow his dancers to evacuate during a fire alarm. That had to be illegal. Not to mention my trap wasn’t going to work if the theater stayed full. We needed to do something.

I scurried over to Bess. “Tell him he has to evacuate.”

“What?” she said. I couldn’t tell whether she couldn’t hear me over the blaring alarm or she couldn’t believe what I was asking.

“You have to tell him to evacuate!” I repeated, louder this time.

“Why me?”

“Because you look like you’re part of the theater staff,” I said. “He won’t listen to me dressed like this.” I indicated my leotard and tutu.

“He’ll bite my head off,” she said.

“Just stay firm.”

Bess took a deep breath and marched toward Jamison. “Sir,” she said confidently. The alarm masked the nervous quiver I was sure was in her voice.

“Yes?” Jamison asked, feigning innocence.

“The law mandates that you evacuate during a fire alarm.”

“There’s no fire. This is just an annoyance. Please go back to sweeping or whatever chore you fill your day with.”

Bess set her jaw defiantly. “If the fire department arrives and the building is not evacuated, they will issue a fine.”

“Serves you right for having a faulty fire alarm. Imagine if it had gone off during a performance!” Jamison hissed.

Bess narrowed her eyes. “I will make sure they issue the fine directly to you personally. And I should add that it’s quite hefty.”

Jamison paused for a beat. Then, finally, “All right, everyone get your coats.” He turned to Bess. “These are dancers. Their muscles need to stay warm.”

If I hadn’t been trying to maintain a low profile, I would have jumped for joy. A sense of pride swelled through me. The first time Bess had gone undercover, she’d blushed and stuttered, and her cover had been blown in less than thirty seconds. She had come a long way since then.

As the dancers filed out of the room, I discreetly slid down between the seats and hid. The floor was cold and dirty. There are times when being a detective isn’t really glamorous.

Finally the theater was empty. Now the real waiting began. If the culprit wanted to rattle Maggie, he or she would use this opportunity to steal her lucky ballet shoes. All I needed to do was catch him or her in the act.

My back ached from being curled up under the seat. It felt like I’d been in this position for hours, but I knew it was closer to ten minutes. My dad, a famous attorney in River Heights, had taught me that willpower is never enough; you have to help yourself succeed. If I dwelled on how much I wanted to move, I’d be doomed. I started reciting the capitals of all the states in my head for distraction.

I was trying to remember the capital of South Dakota when I heard the door to the theater open. I held my breath. I couldn’t see who it was, but I didn’t dare risk being seen by popping my head up. It wouldn’t be definitive proof unless I caught the culprit holding the ballet shoes. I heard the intruder slowly tiptoe down the center aisle toward the piano bench.

Then there was a long pause. I was desperate to know what was happening, but I forced myself to wait. Finally I heard the piano bench creak loudly.

That was my cue. I sprang to my feet, my knees protesting in pain after being curled up on the floor for so long.

I spun around. Leaning over the piano bench, ballet shoes in hand, was Fiona!





CHAPTER NINE





A Surprising Discovery


“STOP RIGHT THERE,” I SAID. I knew that as soon as everyone realized there wasn’t actually a fire, they’d come streaming back into the theater.

“W-what are you doing in here?” Fiona stammered.

“Maggie asked me to investigate who was harassing her, and I just caught you in the act.”

Fiona snorted. “That’s so Maggie. You play a few pranks and she calls in a private detective. God, she is such a drama queen.”

“I’d say someone trying to ruin her opportunity to dance in front of Oscar and steal her big break warrants some extreme measures,” I said pointedly.

“You think I’m trying to dance in front of Oscar?” Fiona asked, horrified.

“Why else would you be harassing her” I asked.