Nancy shuddered as she reread the note. Then she pulled the long ivory-colored sleeve of her dress over her hand and carefully removed the dagger from the door, trying not to smudge any fingerprints. She caught the note and took both items inside the house.
Sitting down in the living room, Nancy thought about the note. She knew now that she had definitely been the target of the arrow at the hunting party. She breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that the writer’s aim had not been very precise. But then, on a darker note, she realized that the writer knew who she was and where she lived. This incident meant that the person who was at her bedroom window must be connected to the trouble at the festival. Most likely, the note writer and the intruder were the same person—or were, at least, working with the same person.
So far there had been five notes written, she thought. Each one gave a warning in rhyme. And each note had accompanied an incident meant to hurt someone and create a disturbance at the festival.
There were at least three people she knew who might want to damage the festival—Martine DeVries, Dean Batlan, and Louis Romero. All of them had indicated that they were angry at the festival or its director in some way.
But while any of them might try to hurt the festival while it was in River Heights, Nancy couldn’t understand why one of them would want to hurt her. She didn’t think any of them knew she was a detective. Besides, she thought, as she absentmindedly slid the ruby ring on and off her finger, Dean or Martine would have had a hard time beating her home after the play. Nancy and Bess had left the festival grounds just after the play ended. And the note had to have been placed sometime between the shooting of the arrow and her arrival home.
Louis Romero might have had time, Nancy speculated. She hadn’t seen him at that evening’s performance of Romeo and Juliet. But that would mean he was also the one who had tried to break into her house Tuesday night. When Nancy had visited Romero’s office on Wednesday, he hadn’t given any sign that he was guilty. Maybe Romero’s just a good actor, she thought. Her other suspects were good actors, too, which made the case even more difficult.
She got up from the chair and headed upstairs to get ready for bed. She still felt that there was something she was missing—something she just wasn’t seeing. And now that she knew she had become a target of the note writer, she had to find that something more than ever. She resolved to find it at the festival the next day.
By noon on Friday the sky was a clear blue, without a cloud. Her Majesty’s Players had been lucky to have such nice weather all week, Nancy thought as she drove to Bess’s house.
A few minutes later Bess and George were climbing into the Mustang with cheerful greetings. Before Nancy pulled away from the curb, she held up the dagger that had been stuck to her front door. She had placed it in a clear plastic bag.
“Do you recognize this?” she asked George.
While George tried to get a better look at the dagger, Bess let out a squeal of surprise. “A knife? Oh, Nancy, I’m almost afraid to ask where you got that.”
“Well, actually it’s a dagger,” Nancy said. “It was stuck to my front door along with this note when I got home last night.”
George and Bess read over the note with the old-fashioned lettering. Bess looked up with wide eyes. “Well, that does it,” she said quietly and firmly. “Let’s just go turn in our costumes and say goodbye to the festival.”
“I don’t always agree with Bess,” George said, “but I think she might be right, Nancy. Are you sure it’s safe to go back to the festival? Things are getting pretty serious.”
“I think our note writer is going to continue whether I’m there or not,” Nancy said. “And as long as that person keeps causing trouble, everybody at the festival is in danger. What I’d like to do is stop by the police station and drop off this dagger. Maybe the police can check for fingerprints. George, have you ever seen anyone with a dagger like this at the festival?”
George shook her head. “In the first place, the blade on that dagger is real. All the ones I’ve seen at the festival have been fakes. And the handle on this one seems more elaborate than the others.”
“I thought so, too,” Nancy said, nodding. “I wonder how our note writer got his or her hands on it.”
Bess shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about that,” she said. “Let’s just hope the person doesn’t have more where this came from.”
“George, maybe you could check with J.Z. to see if there’s anything missing from Schotter’s closet,” Nancy suggested.
George nodded. “No problem.”
Bess and George waited in the car while Nancy ran into the police station. She mentioned to Chief McGinnis that Officers DelRio and Wilkerson had checked out the attempted break-in earlier in the week, and that the dagger might be connected to that incident. A few minutes later she was back in the car, driving her friends to the festival.
Bess and George stopped to watch a clown act while Nancy went in search of Dean Batlan’s trailer. Ever since the first day, when she had heard him boasting, she had been meaning to find out more about him.
In the first row of trailers she found a small trailer with Dean’s name on a sign hanging on the door. She knocked. There was no answer. A few seconds later she knocked again. “Mr. Batlan?” she called out.
Nancy waited a bit longer, and then, looking around her, tried turning the doorknob. To her surprise, the door opened readily. She wondered if Dean, like Schotter, often left his door open.
Poking her head into the trailer, she called out, “Dean?” No one answered. Nancy stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and looked around the small interior.
To the right, at the back end of the trailer, was a paneled closet. Across from the closet was a kitchenette, with a small refrigerator and stove, and next to the kitchenette was a small bathroom.
A cot was pushed against one wall, and strewn about it were several articles of clothing and costume accessories.
Along the other wall was a dressing table with a large mirror over it. Nancy began looking through the items scattered on the dressing table. There were bottles of stage makeup, publicity photos, and several typed pages of Dean’s Romeo and Juliet script. Certain lines had been underlined and notes had been written in the margins. Nancy noticed that the publicity photos were of Dean himself, already autographed. Suddenly a large black binder in the corner of the table caught her eye.
Bending over the binder, Nancy opened it and quickly began to leaf through its many papers. The binder evidently stored Dean’s official documents and personal mementos. Nancy skimmed through old newspaper clippings of theater reviews, old contracts, and business letters. She noticed that most of the materials were five to ten years old. Batlan’s acting had been well received years ago, but it looked as if he had not done much significant work since then.
Just as Nancy was about to close the binder, she noticed a name scrawled at the bottom of one page. Excitedly she stared at a letter signed by Louis Romero.
Nancy took in a short breath and was about to read the letter when she heard heavy footsteps. She glanced out the window and jumped back. Dean Batlan had returned.
Slamming the binder shut, Nancy looked around the small trailer in desperation. Deciding there was nowhere to hide, she prepared to face Dean Batlan, hoping he’d believe a story about being in the wrong trailer.
But in the next instant Nancy heard a scream coming from outside. She ran to the small window and saw Dean Batlan running off in the direction of the scream.
Nancy didn’t waste any time. She hurried out of Dean’s trailer and followed him toward the scream. She noticed other cast and crew members heading in that direction, too.
As Nancy neared the middle section of the first row of trailers, she almost collided with Martine DeVries, who had suddenly appeared from behind a trailer.
Martine’s eyes were wide with fright as she stood clutching her throat. “Someone’s trying to kill me!” she gasped.
The Play’s the Thing
Nancy, Dean, and the other cast and crew members gathered around a distraught Martine. The actress was coughing and breathing erratically. “I don’t know where he came from,” she said, her voice sounding even deeper than usual.
“He?” Nancy asked.
“I think it was a he,” Martine said. “I never got a look at the person’s face,” she said, her breath coming in gasps. “He was very strong,” she added.
“Just slow down and tell us what happened,” Joanna Messerman said.
“I stepped out of my trailer, and the next thing I knew, someone was grabbing my neck from behind,” Martine said, still rubbing her neck. “The person wrapped his hands around my neck tighter and tighter, trying to strangle me. His hands were pushing against this brooch I was wearing, and it was cutting into my neck.”
Martine’s hand flew up to her neck to feel for the brooch, a round pin with small sapphire stones set in it. “Thank goodness it’s still here,” she said, touching the beautiful, blue-stoned pin.
“And then what happened?” Dean said impatiently.
“Well, I couldn’t breathe, obviously!” Martine retorted angrily. “He was choking me so hard I thought I was going to pass out. I threw back my elbow and hit him in the ribs. He let go, and I tried to scream.” She paused for a moment, still breathing heavily. “No sound would come out, though. I kept trying to get my voice to work, but I could hardly breathe. I started running, and after a few more tries, a scream finally came out.” Martine stopped, looking tired and scared.
“What happened to your attacker?” Nancy asked gently.
Martine shrugged. “I think he ran off. After I elbowed him, I caught a quick glance. I think he was wearing black, and it looked as if he had one of the black masks from the props trailer covering his face.”
“Do you feel pretty certain it was a man?” Nancy asked.
“Well, whoever it was seemed bigger and stronger than I. I think it was a man, but I didn’t get a good look,” Martine replied.
While the others escorted Martine back to her trailer, Nancy headed toward the back row of trailers, in the direction Martine had thought her attacker had gone. But after a few minutes of searching the spaces between the trailers for something or someone unusual, she gave up. The attacker had had too great a head start.
Nancy walked back to Martine’s trailer, thinking about the actress’s story. Nancy had no reason to doubt her. Martine was obviously very upset, and her troubled breathing and the rough, red marks on her neck seemed to be solid proof of an attack.
When Nancy reached the trailer, she found Martine sitting up on her bed. Though she seemed to be a bit less shaken, it was clear that the attack had very much affected her. As she spoke to Schotter, who had recently arrived, there were tears in her eyes.
“I don’t know what’s going on around here,” Martine said quietly, “but you’d better do something about it, Philip. Until this is resolved, I’m not participating in one more event.”
“Martine, I know you’re scared,” Schotter said sympathetically. “And to be honest, this makes me nervous, too. I’m very sorry about what happened. But we can’t simply go into hiding or pack up and leave—”
Martine interrupted the director. “But I’m not going to give somebody another opportunity to get to me. By going to the play or even just walking around the town square, I’m asking for trouble.”
“Actually, you might be safer at the play,” Nancy put in. “You’ll be surrounded by other actors and volunteers. Someone would have a hard time getting to you in those circumstances. After all,” Nancy pointed out, “it was when you were alone in your trailer that you were attacked.”
Martine was about to argue with Nancy when Schotter cut in.
“Nancy’s right, you know,” Schotter said quickly. “There’s safety in numbers. We can make sure that you’re never alone.”
Martine considered the director’s words for a few seconds. Then she said, “All right. I’ll go to the play, but I’m not entering the theater by procession. I just want to come in with the rest of the audience. And I want to leave as soon as the play ends, with everyone else. Got that?” she said, pointing a finger at Schotter.
“Okay, you got it,” Schotter said, putting his hands up. “No procession, no announcements—just another audience member. I’ll go to my trailer and report your assault to the police. And don’t worry—I’m sure everything will be fine,” he said, his voice sounding less confident than his words.
Nancy had been only half listening to Schotter and Martine. Her mind had drifted back to Dean Batlan’s trailer. She had been on the verge of finding out what Louis Romero had written to Dean Batlan when Martine had screamed. Now Nancy desperately wanted to get back to that letter.
Quietly Nancy slipped out of Martine’s trailer and hurried down the row to Dean’s. Looking around cautiously, she opened the door of the trailer and went in. She left the door open a crack so she could keep an eye out for Dean or anyone else.
Working fast, Nancy grabbed the black binder and flipped to the letter that bore Louis Romero’s signature. Skimming through the letter, she noticed that it had Monday’s date at the top. Her eyes opened wider and wider as she read the few short paragraphs. Louis Romero was writing to offer Dean Batlan a position in the medieval fair.
Nancy read over the paragraphs again, to make sure she wasn’t mistaken. She wasn’t. Romero was definitely asking Dean to sign on with him. At the bottom of the page Nancy’s eyes rested on a handwritten line written in pencil: “Talk to Phil.” Nancy stared at the line, her heart beating so hard she was sure it could be heard outside.
Then she heard several different voices coming closer and closer to Dean’s trailer. Nancy slammed the black binder shut and put it back on the dressing table where she’d found it. Then she left the trailer.
Thinking no one had seen her, she began to walk in the opposite direction of the voices. She was startled by Dean Batlan’s loud voice behind her. “Hey! You there—what are you doing?”
Trying to look innocent, Nancy turned around slowly. “Are you talking to me?” she asked in a surprised voice.
“Of course I am,” Dean thundered. “What were you doing in my trailer?”
“Your trailer?” Nancy asked, her voice full of astonishment. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Batlan, I had no idea that that was your trailer. I got so confused—I’m supposed to be in the costume trailer. These trailers all look so much alike, and I’m late already, and oh! I’m just so sorry, if I had known it was yours, I never would have gone near it,” Nancy said in a confused flurry. She gave Dean a quick smile and skipped off before he could say another word.
When Nancy had gotten past the trailer rows, she slowed down and let out a huge breath. She hoped Dean had bought her innocent act. At any rate, she thought, Dean had more important things to think about—like Romero’s offer.
She figured that Dean must have written in the line “Talk to Phil.” Phil had to be Philip Schotter. But was Dean seriously considering whether or not to accept the offer? Perhaps Dean wanted to make sure Schotter knew that he was being offered big money and a permanent part in Romero’s production. Even if Dean was going to turn down the offer, he might want Schotter to think he was interested. If Dean wanted more money from the Elizabethan festival, Nancy reasoned, this might be a good way to convince Schotter that he was worth it. Romero’s offer could be used as a bargaining tool to prove that Dean was still a valued actor.
But even as she became more suspicious of Dean, she reflected that he couldn’t have been Martine’s attacker. She had heard his voice outside the trailer just before Martine had screamed. And he had stayed with Martine after she had told her story, showing real concern.
Nancy headed into the backstage tent to find Bess and George. She found the cousins sitting in a corner of the tent, enjoying sandwiches and lemonade.
“I know that look on your face,” George said to Nancy. “You’ve figured something out. What’s up?”
Nancy laughed. “Are you sure you can’t read my mind?” She sat down with them and told them about Martine’s attack and her visit to Dean’s trailer.
“These attacks are getting worse,” Bess said fearfully. “First you have an arrow shot at you and a dagger stuck on your door, and now Martine gets strangled.”
“That’s assuming the same person was responsible for both attacks,” George said. “As Nancy said, nobody found a note near Martine’s attack. Maybe that was a separate incident. I know a few people around here who have probably felt like strangling Martine from time to time.”
“But do you think any of those people would actually do something like that?” Nancy asked.
George shook her head. “No, I don’t. Martine can be exasperating, but I think most people do seem to respect her.”
“So it could be the same person,” Bess said slowly. “But it isn’t Dean, right?” she asked Nancy.
Nancy sighed in frustration. “There may be other things about him I don’t know yet.” She paused. “It seems pretty unlikely that he’s involved, though,” she admitted.
A troupe member was making his way through the tent, informing everyone that the play was about to start. Bess and George finished eating, and Bess and Nancy made their way to their front-row seats.
Martine sat on Nancy’s left. The actress seemed extremely nervous. Nancy didn’t blame her. But she relaxed a little when the play began. She became absorbed in the crowded scene in which attendants and members of the Montague and Capulet families were feuding with each other. Nancy, however, found it difficult to concentrate on the play at all. She couldn’t stop thinking about the afternoon’s events.
She knew that someone had deliberately shot an arrow at her, and that someone had physically attacked Martine, as well.
Nancy thought back to the other incidents. The damaged weapons rack, which had fallen on three troupe members, would have fallen no matter who had used it. But the broken litter had to be directed at Martine. The note that accompanied it mentioned the queen specifically.
The sabotaged balcony could only have affected Joanna Messerman, who was playing Juliet. But the note that Nancy had found on the balcony hadn’t mentioned Joanna or Juliet. It had been a warning about bringing the whole show down. And the note left at the scene of the switched rapiers hadn’t mentioned anyone, either.
So the only sure targets seemed to be Nancy and Martine. But if someone—Romero, maybe—was simply trying to damage the festival, there was no need for personal attacks. The festival was leaving River Heights after tomorrow, anyway. Why would someone be after her and Martine?
Nancy glanced at Martine out of the corner of her eye. The actress was calmly fanning herself, her eyes fixed on the stage. Nancy smiled. Martine hadn’t parted with her bejeweled fan holder ever since she and Bess had found it in the locked storage trailer. The line of rubies trailing from the holder sparkled as the fan moved back and forth.
Suddenly Nancy sat bolt upright in her seat. She grabbed Bess’s arm and squeezed it.
“What is it?” Bess whispered.
“I think I know why someone is after Martine!” Nancy said excitedly.
The Real Thing?
“Nancy, what are you talking about?” Bess whispered.
Nancy tried to keep her excitement down so she wouldn’t attract any attention. Placing her right hand on Bess’s arm, she looked down at the ruby ring on her third finger, then looked back up at Bess.
“The jewels, Bess. What if they’re real?” Nancy whispered.
“Real?” Bess whispered back. “But these are costume pieces,” she said, looking at Nancy in confusion.
“That’s what everyone thinks,” Nancy said. “I’ll tell you what I think after the play.” She looked at the emerald earrings Bess was wearing. Then she turned to look at Martine’s brooch and fan holder. Perhaps these pieces aren’t just well-made imitations, after all, Nancy thought. Maybe that’s the reason she had found them hidden away together in the metal box in the trunk.
Nancy’s head was spinning as she considered this possibility. If the jewels were real, it would certainly explain why Martine’s fan holder, which the actress had claimed was stolen when her litter broke, turned up inside the trunk. And it would explain why Martine had felt her attacker grabbing for her brooch when she was being strangled. Someone had been trying to get to the jewelry—not to Martine.
Nancy absently clapped a couple of times as the third act came to an end. She was warning herself not to jump to conclusions. Her idea might explain why someone had tried to break into her house. The intruder could have been coming after the ring. But it didn’t explain the broken balcony or the falling weapons rack. Those things had happened before she and Bess had found the jewels. Even if she and Bess had actually discovered a would-be thief’s hiding place, then Nancy was still left with the question of what the earlier notes and incidents meant.
And there was a more frightening question, too. Nancy had been shot at with an arrow. And Martine had been choked. Was someone so desperate for the jewelry that he or she was willing to physically harm the people wearing it?
Bess had been giving Nancy confused looks during the play, and when it was finally over, she grabbed Nancy’s arm. “What’s going on?” Bess asked, over the applause.
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Nancy said. People were beginning to leave the theater.
As Martine rose to leave, Nancy approached her. “Excuse me, Martine,” she said politely. “I’ve been admiring your fan and fan holder, and I wondered if I could borrow them overnight. Of course, I’d return them to you before tomorrow afternoon’s activities, but I—”
“No,” Martine said abruptly. “I’m not interested in some teenage accessory swapping,” she said, turning away.
Nancy felt frustrated. She didn’t want to tell Martine of her suspicions until she’d had a chance to get some real evidence. But she also wanted to bring the fan holder and the other jewels to a jewelry appraiser the next morning.
Martine was intent on leaving the theater, though. Before Nancy could say another word, the actress had already made her way backstage.
Sighing, Nancy turned to find Bess staring at her with her hands on her hips. “Will you please tell me what is going on with these jewels?” Bess asked with a note of exasperation.
“Yes,” Nancy said, “but not here. Let’s get George and talk in the car.”
The two girls found George backstage, and a few minutes later the three of them were heading toward the parking lot. They climbed in the car, and the two cousins listened in surprise as Nancy told them she thought the jewelry might be authentic.
Bess took off her earrings and inspected them. “They do look very well made,” she admitted.
“But these are just suspicions,” Nancy warned. “I need some facts to back me up—and I need them quickly. Tomorrow is the last day of the festival.” She asked Bess to let her take the emerald earrings home with her. Then the girls planned to go to an appraiser the next morning on their way to the festival.
When Nancy arrived home, she put the emerald earrings and the ruby ring into her father’s safe. She didn’t want to risk losing the jewels to another intruder. If she was right about the jewels, someone would be desperately trying to get them back now— especially knowing that the jewels would only be in River Heights for one more day.
Nancy found a telephone message for her on the kitchen counter. It said that the police department had called with some discouraging news. Because of the ornate design of the old-fashioned dagger, no fingerprints had been retrieved from the weapon.
Nancy awoke the next morning trying to remember when she had fallen asleep The last thing she remembered was lying on her bed, thinking about the festival. She realized that exhaustion must have overtaken her.
After showering, she called Bess, who told her that George had gone early to the festival. The two girls decided to wear jeans to the appraiser’s office. They could change into their costumes at the festival.
About a half hour later Nancy and Bess were sitting across a desk from the jewelry appraiser, Ms. Bailey. The young woman, dressed in a tidy gray suit, was examining the earrings and ring under a strong desk lamp. With her jeweler’s eyepiece, she examined the jewelry carefully. Nancy and Bess sat on the edge of their seats, nervously awaiting her opinion.
After a few moments Ms. Bailey removed her eyepiece and looked up at them. “These are beautiful pieces,” she said, “and quite valuable, too. The stones are exquisite.”
“You mean they’re real?” Bess blurted out.
Ms. Bailey looked a bit startled. “Oh, yes. There’s no question that the jewels are genuine. And the stones have almost no flaws.”
While Bess tried to contain her surprise, Nancy asked, “Could you tell us how old the pieces are? We were wondering if they might be from the Elizabethan period.”
Ms. Bailey paused, still looking over the jewelry. “That’s a real possibility. I noticed right away that the settings of both items are quite unusual. From this first glance I’d say we’re looking at pieces that are hundreds of years old.”
Bess let out a little squeal and grabbed Nancy’s arm.
“But I can’t state that positively right now,” Ms. Bailey added quickly. “Before I’d make any kind of verification, I’d have to call in a specialist for a detailed, researched appraisal.”
“Would you mind doing that?” Nancy asked.
“Not at all,” Ms. Bailey said. “I could make a few phone calls and get someone started on it right away.” The appraiser hesitated for a moment. “Are these pieces family heirlooms?” she asked politely.
“Oh, no,” Nancy said. “They were donated to the Elizabethan festival that’s in town this week. Volunteers were allowed to wear them with their period costumes,” she explained.
Ms. Bailey looked surprised. Then she said, “I’ll keep the pieces in the safe here until the appraisal is finished. I’ll give you a receipt in the meantime.”
“Thank you,” Nancy said. Then, a bit anxiously, she added, “It’s important that we get this information as soon as possible.” She wrote her name and phone number on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk to Ms. Bailey. “I’d appreciate it if you could let me know as soon as you find out anything.”
Ms. Bailey smiled. “Of course,” she said reassuringly. She shook hands with Bess and Nancy, and the two girls left the appraiser’s office.
“Nancy, you were right!” Bess exclaimed when they got back into the car. “Someone has been after those jewels the whole time.”
“Well, we can’t be sure about that,” Nancy said, frowning. “We don’t know if anyone else knows the jewels are real.”
“But somebody must know,” Bess said. “Why else would the jewelry have been hidden away in that trailer?”
Nancy didn’t answer. “Do you mind if we make another stop?” she said, starting up the car. She pulled a piece of paper from her purse. “I got the name of the woman who donated the jewelry to the festival. Donna Vasquez gave it to me,” she said, referring to the costume manager. “A Mrs. Pellworth was the donator. Yd like to talk to her.”
“Mrs. Pellworth?” Bess said, as if the name sounded familiar. “Oh, I’ve heard of her. I think she’s always donating stuff to arts projects in town. She sounds like a very generous woman.”
Nancy pulled over to a pay phone and got Mrs. Pellworth’s address. Minutes later they were driving into a quaint, older section of River Heights. When they reached a two-story red brick house, Nancy parked, and the two girls made their way up a walkway past a neatly kept garden.
Nancy rang the doorbell. The door was opened almost immediately by a kind-looking, elderly woman. “May I help you?” she asked, her eyes bright with expectation. She was hunched over and looked quite old.
Nancy introduced herself and Bess, and explained that they were volunteering for the Elizabethan festival. The woman smiled. “Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’ll be attending the festival today myself, as a matter of fact.” She invited the two girls into a spacious, pastel-colored living room to sit down.
As soon as they were seated in comfortable overstuffed chairs, a trim, blond woman in a white uniform appeared from a hallway. “Is everything all right, Mrs. P?” she asked, eyeing Nancy and Bess a bit suspiciously.
“Oh, yes, Susanna,” Mrs. Pellworth said. “These two young ladies are volunteers from the Elizabethan festival.”
“I’m Susanna, Mrs. Pellworth’s attendant,” the woman said in a more relaxed tone. She offered them tea, but they politely declined.
“I apologize for not asking that myself,” Mrs. Pellworth said. “I’m afraid I’ve been very forgetful lately. And I’ve been having more and more trouble getting around,” Mrs. Pellworth explained. “Susanna has been a great help to me.” She smiled appreciatively at the attendant.
Susanna came in and sat down next to Mrs. Pellworth. Nancy got right to the point. “As volunteers, Mrs. Pellworth, we’ve been able to wear some of the jewelry you donated to the festival,” she said.
“It’s just beautiful,” Bess put in. “The pieces add so much to the costumes.”
Mrs. Pellworth smiled. “I’m just glad that someone is able to use them,” she said. “They’ve been gathering dust in my attic for so long.”
“Are they pieces you purchased yourself, or are they family heirlooms?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, they’ve been around as long as I can remember,” the elderly woman said. “Why, I even remember my great-grandmother wearing them. But you see, I have no children, so I had no one to pass them along to. I decided to give them to the festival so that many people—like yourselves—could enjoy them.”
“It was very thoughtful of you,” Nancy said, smiling. She paused before asking her next question. “Did you ever have anyone look at them to see if they might be authentic?” she said, trying to sound casual.
Mrs. Pellworth gave a little wave of her hand. “Oh, I never bothered. They’ve just been sitting around here for so long, I think the only value they have is sentimental. Everyone in my family assumed they were costume pieces,” she said.
“Do you know where they came from originally?” Nancy asked.
Mrs. Pellworth shook her head, looking a bitconfused. “I really don’t know anything about them. It seems as if they’ve been around forever.”
Mrs. Pellworth leaned back in her chair, suddenly looking very tired. Susanna jumped up, ran to the kitchen, and brought her a glass of water from the kitchen.
Nancy stood up quickly. “Well, Mrs. Pellworth,” she said, “we don’t want to keep you. We just wanted to thank you again for your generous donation.” She signaled to Bess with her eyes.
“Oh, uh, yes,” Bess said, jumping to her feet. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Pellworth.”
“Well, it always makes me feel good to know people appreciate my silly old things,” Mrs. Pellworth said. “I hope to see both of you at the festival this afternoon.”
Nancy and Bess got back in the car and headed toward the festival grounds.
“Didn’t you want to tell Mrs. Pellworth that the jewels are real?” Bess said.
Nancy shook her head. “I don’t think she knows anything about the jewelry, and I didn’t want to get her involved until we figure this thing out.”
After a few moments of silence Bess spoke up. “So who do you think might be going after these jewels?”
“Well, we pretty much have to count out Martine,” Nancy said. “She was really shaken up after someone tried to strangle her. And if she knew that the jewels were real, and wanted to take them, she’s had every opportunity to get them back from us,” Nancy pointed out. Then, as an afterthought, she said, “Even though she’s pretty possessive about her fan holder, she certainly doesn’t try to hide it from anyone.”
“What about Dean?” Bess asked. “Didn’t he say he wanted to bring the festival down?”
“That’s just it,” Nancy said. “Before yesterday I thought someone was causing this chaos because she or he had some kind of grudge against the festival. That’s what the notes implied. So Dean seemed to be a likely suspect.”
Nancy paused for a moment. “But if it’s true that someone has actually been trying to steal these jewels, then I have to rethink this. Maybe the notes were simply meant to be distractions. And I don’t know if Dean would recognize or even be interested in Elizabethan jewelry. After all, Josh is always criticizing him for how little he knows about the period.”
Suddenly Nancy’s eyes popped open. “Oh, that’s it!” she exclaimed. “Josh!”
“Josh what?” Bess replied.
“Josh would know about Elizabethan jewelry, wouldn’t he? And wouldn’t he have almost every opportunity to go after the pieces?” Nancy asked, her voice rising.
She turned into the festival grounds and drove toward the parking lot. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before,” Nancy said. “Bess, we can’t waste any time. We’ve got to find Josh and—”
Nancy didn’t have time to finish her sentence. Just as she reached the end of the parking row, a silver sedan bolted out from the trailer area on the right. Nancy expected the car to slow down when the driver saw her, but instead, the car pressed forward, heading straight for Nancy’s Mustang!
A Player Is Unmasked
Staring in horror at the oncoming car, Nancy automatically jerked the steering wheel to the left, slamming on her brakes at the same time. The Mustang lurched to a stop, and Nancy and Bess were thrown forward in their seats. Bess flung her hands out to the dashboard to catch herself. Both girls turned to see the other car zip by on the right, inches from Nancy’s car.
“What on earth is going on?” Bess said in a quivering voice.
Nancy shook her head. “Are you all right?” she asked her friend. Bess’s face looked pale.
“I—I think so,” Bess said. “That guy must be crazy.”
“I know,” Nancy said quietly. After unbuckling her seat belt, she opened her door and jumped out. She saw that she had narrowly missed hitting the parked car on her left, the last car in the parking row. Suddenly there was a screech of tires, and Nancy spun around. About fifty feet away she saw the silver sedan make a U-turn and then head back toward them at top speed!
Nancy bent down to warn Bess, who was still in the passenger seat. At the same time Bess noticed the car coming straight toward them. “Nancy!” she screamed.
The car screeched to a stop just in front of Nancy’s car. In the next instant the driver jumped out from behind the steering wheel. Nancy found herself looking at Josh Forster.
Josh’s face was expressionless. From his side he drew up his right hand. His fingers were wrapped around a dagger, its blade gleaming in the sunlight.
A high-pitched squeal broke the silence, as Bess got out of the car and saw the dagger in Josh’s hand.
“Quiet!” Josh snapped at her. He looked around nervously and then pointed the dagger at both girls. “Now that I’ve got your attention, let’s go, Little Miss Detective,” he said. His precise, even voice was laced with sarcasm.
Josh pointed the dagger in the direction of the trailers, and Nancy and Bess began walking toward them. Josh followed, looking about every few seconds to make sure no one was watching. He directed the girls to the last row of trailers, which bordered the woods. When they reached a small unit at the end, Josh roughly pushed them inside.
Nancy and Bess stepped into the cramped trailer, which evidently belonged to Josh. A small sofa bed and table were covered with books and papers.
After closing and locking the door behind him, Josh faced Nancy and Bess with a smirk on his face. “Aren’t we in costume yet, ladies?”
Nancy and Bess stared at the creative consultant. He no longer looked like the mild-mannered scholar they had seen throughout the week. The tweed jacket and carefully combed hair were gone. His brown hair hung over his wire-rimmed glasses. His eyes flashed wildly, and his mouth was fixed in a mean little smirk.
Bess looked frantically from Josh to Nancy, her lower lip trembling. “Nancy, what’s going on?” she whispered.
Without taking her eyes off Josh, Nancy whispered, “Josh wants the jewels we’ve been wearing, Bess,” she said carefully and evenly.
“You were right, then,” Bess said.
“Yes,” Nancy said. “Josh is the person who’s been trying to steal them.”
“Oh, very good, very good,” Josh said, smirking again. “Too bad you’re just a little too late.”
“I just want to know,” Nancy said to Josh, ignoring his remark, “how did you know the jewels were real?”
“Ah,” Josh said, raising his eyebrows, “ever the detective, aren’t we, Miss Drew? Well, anyone who has studied Elizabethan history—which is more than I can say for anyone around here— would know right away that those weren’t costume pieces. The exquisite settings, the quality of the stones, the unusual designs—I knew they were the real items. I’ve studied hundreds of photographs of similar pieces,” he said confidently.
“When was the first time you saw them?” Nancy asked, keeping her voice calm.
“I was asked to accept them from Mrs. Pellworth, of course,” Josh said, a little annoyed. “You forget, Miss Drew, I’m the most trusted person around here. Phil asked me to accompany him and Donna Vasquez to Mrs. Pellworth’s house.” He paused for a moment, eyeing Nancy suspiciously. Then he shrugged. “I might as well tell you—the two of you will be history soon, anyway.”
Nancy heard Bess gasp as Josh went on.
“I knew right then that this was the discovery of a lifetime. That fan holder,” he said, shaking his head. “You can never find something made that exquisitely anymore—even as a costume piece. It’s extremely rare.” Josh had a faraway look in his eyes.
“But the pieces weren’t given to you at Mrs. Pellworth’s, right?” Nancy said.
Josh shook his head and adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. “Of course not. Donna kept all of them with her. She mixed them in with the costume pieces we already had and then passed them out to the members of the troupe, and even to the volunteers.” He rolled his eyes. “Besides, I needed to have time to look over the whole donation carefully. Not all of them are real, you know,” he said, gesturing with the dagger.
Nancy was listening carefully to Josh’s story. “So that’s when you decided to create a commotion by loosening that weapons rack,” Nancy said. “You knew everyone would run over to that trailer when the rack fell.”
“I just needed enough time to get into Martine’s trailer and grab the pieces she had been given,” Josh said, shrugging. “Once I had them and could begin studying them, I could tell which ones were real. I have to give Martine credit,” he said. “She has a good eye for jewelry. She got a few fakes from Donna, but she also happened to have asked for the only real ones—the earrings, the ring, the brooch, and the fan holder. Unfortunately, Martine had the fan with her when I sneaked into her trailer, and I could only get hold of the earrings, the ring, and the brooch. So I hid those pieces away in the trunk and planned a way to get at the fan.”
Bess suddenly spoke up. “Does Martine know the jewelry is real?” she asked in a confused voice.
Nancy shot Bess a warning look. Nancy was worried that Martine could be in danger. She was still in possession of two of the pieces—the fan and the brooch—which were found after Josh had put them in the storage trailer.
Josh waved his hand. “Puh-lease,” he said. “She just wanted the best-looking pieces. She doesn’t know anything about it.”
“And to make sure no one else knew anything about it, you started writing those notes, to make it look as if someone were trying to hurt the festival,” Nancy put in.
Josh slowly worked his mouth into a wide smile as he pointed the dagger at Nancy. “Now, that,” he said, “was a stroke of genius on my part.”
Nancy looked at the mousy creative consultant with mounting disgust. She could feel her anger rise, but she told herself to keep calm and find out as much as she could from Josh. “And since you wanted to get the fan holder away from Martine,” she went on, “you tampered with the litter so she’d fall.”
Josh nodded, still smiling. “After that I had all the real pieces in what I thought was a safe place—until you found them. But the notes were really working. Nobody even paid the slightest attention to the missing jewelry. So I kept it up by unscrewing the balcony.” He was obviously pleased with himself. “It was perfect. It fell apart right in the middle of the play!”
“That’s sick!” Bess blurted out. “Joanna could have really been hurt.”
Josh shrugged. “If anything, Dean was the one to get hurt. She landed right on top of him. And that wouldn’t have been a great loss,” he added.
“And the rapier switch must have been easy,” Nancy said. “You have access to Schotter’s office.”
“The whole thing had been so easy up to that point,” Josh said. “That’s why I was so surprised to see the two of you wearing the jewels. I knew you must have found the trunk.” He pulled in his breath. “But that doesn’t matter now,” he added, pointing the dagger at Nancy and Bess. “Now I can get them back.”
“But we don’t have them!” Bess wailed.
“No,” Josh said coolly, “but right after the performance, you’ll lead me to them. In fact, we may even be able to get to them before the performance ends, if Martine cooperates.”
“What does Martine have to do with it?” Nancy said.
Josh smirked at Nancy. “You don’t expect me to leave without my fan holder and brooch, do you? Martine is going to have to learn to be a little less stubborn. But I think,” he said, smiling and waving the dagger, “I can convince her of that this evening.”
Nancy looked at Josh sharply. “Did you say ‘leave’? Are you planning on leaving the festival?”
Josh let out a soft little chuckle. “Tut, tut, Miss Drew. I’d have expected you to figure that out by now. It doesn’t do me any good to sit around here with the jewelry, does it? Someone might get suspicious. Besides, it wouldn’t be very profitable. I plan to meet my jewelry buyer tonight.”
Josh quickly glanced down at his watch. “Ah! No time to waste,” he said, looking up. “Hang on, ladies—you’re going for a ride,” he said with a nasty smile. Then he backed out of the trailer and closed the door.
“What does he mean?” Bess asked fearfully. The girls heard Josh lock the door from the outside.
“I don’t know,” Nancy said grimly. “But I have a feeling we’re about to find out.”
Suddenly the girls heard a car starting up outside. The sound of the engine grew louder as the car slowly pulled close to the trailer. Then, with a jerk, Nancy felt the trailer being lifted from its cement blocks. In the next instant the front of the trailer dropped back down.
Suddenly the trailer jerked forward, throwing Nancy and Bess backward. Josh had attached the trailer to the back of his car and was driving the trailer away—with Nancy and Bess locked inside!
To Catch a Thief
“Nancy, what’s happening?” Bess cried as the trailer bumped along. Nancy picked herself up and, hanging on to the table for balance, helped Bess up from the floor.
“Apparently, Josh wants to get us out of the way,” Nancy said grimly. “He’s probably afraid someone will find us or hear us if he just left us in this trailer at the festival. And he needs time to try to get the jewels from Martine.”
“I never would have thought Josh was the one doing all of this,” Bess said. “He seemed like such a wimp. But now…” Her voice trailed off. The trailer seemed to pick up speed. “Nancy, I think he’s crazy!” she cried fearfully.
Nancy reached out to squeeze Bess’s hand. She didn’t want to worry her friend even more, but she, too, had been wondering how far Josh would go to get the fan holder and brooch. Martine could be in real danger, as well as Nancy and Bess.
The trailer was now moving along very quickly. The girls sat on benches on either side of the table. Nancy told Bess that they should both try to concentrate on Josh’s route. “It’s our only way of keeping track of where we are,” she said. “It doesn’t seem as if we’re headed toward the main entrance.” They sat in silence, trying to feel the direction the trailer was moving in.
Soon the trailer began to slow down. It swung out into a right-hand turn and moved onto a smooth road. The trailer then made a quick left and went over some railroad tracks. Next the trailer swung right and began to pick up speed. Nancy felt the trailer weaving back and forth, and knew they must be on a winding road—and then a bumpy road. Finally the trailer came to a complete halt.
Within moments the front of the trailer began to rise.
“Brace yourself,” Nancy said to Bess, “He’s taking the trailer off the hitch.” They felt the trailer drop to the ground. Nancy was slammed against the back of her bench, while Bess was thrown forward into the table. They heard Josh’s car drive away. Then there was complete silence.
Nancy stood up shakily. “Bess, are you all right?” she asked.
Bess was rubbing her elbow. “My elbow hurts, but I think it’s okay. It’s my nerves that are shot,” she said in a panicked voice. “Nancy, what are we going to do? He’s left us out in the middle of nowhere!”
“Well,” Nancy said, creasing her forehead in thought, “I don’t think we’re too far away from the festival grounds. Josh seemed to leave through some back exit, and the ride was pretty short after that. A right, a left, a right, and then a winding road. We could probably find our way back, but first we need to figure a way out of here,” she said, looking around the trailer.
“But Josh locked the door from the outside,” Bess pointed out.
“Hmm,” Nancy said, staring at the door. “We can give it a try, anyway.” Bracing one foot on the floor near the door, Nancy threw her shoulder against the trailer door. The trailer rocked a little from the force of her push, but the door wouldn’t budge. She tried a few more times, but the door remained firmly locked.
“Time for plan B,” Nancy said, rubbing her shoulder. She scanned the trailer.
“Do you have a plan B?” Bess asked hopefully.
“I might,” Nancy said, pointing to a tapestry hanging on the wall. She climbed up onto the bench and tried to balance herself. Since there were no cement blocks holding up the front end, the whole trailer, including the bench, tilted to the front. Bracing herself, Nancy pulled up a corner of the wall hanging, revealing a small window.
“I thought so,” she said. “Most trailers have some kind of window. Apparently, Josh didn’t want us to see this one.”
Being careful to keep her balance, Nancy removed the tacks that held the tapestry on the wall. The wall hanging dropped to the floor. Then she tried the window. To her delight, the glass slid easily along the frame, exposing a screen. Gathering all her strength, she put both hands on the screen and pushed. It didn’t budge. But after a second try the screen popped out.
“Hooray!” Nancy said in triumph. “Now let’s try to get out of here.”
Bess looked at the open half of the window skeptically. “I hate to tell you this, Nan, but I’ll never make it through that opening,” she said, shaking her head.
“Sure you will,” Nancy said confidently. “I’ll give it a try first, so you can see how I do it. Then I can help you down from the outside.”
“What if I don’t make it?” Bess said in a worried voice. “I’ll be trapped in here.”
“Don’t worry—you’ll make it,” Nancy said reassuringly.
Grabbing hold of the window frame, Nancy eased one leg, then the other, through the open window, bringing herself to a sitting position on the window ledge. With her legs dangling from the window, Nancy put her palms up against the outside of the trailer to brace herself. Then she gently moved her hips through the window. As she began to slide out, she threw one hand on the window ledge for support before she finally dropped to the ground. She breathed a sigh of relief as her feet hit the dirt below.
“Okay, your turn, Bess,” she called into the window from outside. Bess’s head poked through the window. “Now try to put your legs through,” Nancy said.
“Are you kidding?” Bess said. “I can’t boost myself up,” she said, her voice rising in panic.
“Just hang on to the window ledge,” Nancy said. “Maybe you can come through head first.”
Bess’s arms came through the open window, and Bess began to pull her upper body through the small opening.
“Okay, keep coming,” Nancy said, moving underneath Bess. “I’ll catch you.”
With the top half of her body out the window, Bess put her hands on Nancy’s shoulders. Wiggling her hips, she squeezed the lower half of her body through the window. Leaning on Nancy, she pushed off the window ledge with her feet and landed safely on the ground, with Nancy holding her steady.
“Nice work,” Nancy said. “Just like a gymnast.”
Bess smiled. “It does feel good to be out of there. But that’s about all the gymnastics I can take.”
“How about some walking?” Nancy said. She looked around, trying to figure out where Josh had left them. The trailer had been parked in the dirt at the side of a quiet street. Across the street were two old warehouses that appeared to be completely deserted. “I guess we should head back down this street,” Nancy suggested. “This must be the winding road we were on just before Josh stopped.”
The two girls set out down the street, staying near the curb. The setting sun created an eerie glow on the empty buildings.
“Do you think Josh will come back for us soon?” Bess asked nervously.
“I think that’s his plan,” Nancy said. “He wants to get the fan holder and brooch away from Martine as quickly as possible. Then he’ll come back for us, so we can lead him to the ring and earrings.”
“Let’s stay off the road, then!” Bess exclaimed, pulling Nancy over. “Who knows what Josh would do if he saw us? Don’t forget—he’s the one who shot an arrow at us. I don’t even want to think about what else he’s capable of doing,” she added, shuddering.
“I don’t think he really meant to hurt me, or anyone else, with that arrow,” Nancy said. “Injuring someone wouldn’t have guaranteed that he’d get the jewels back. I think the arrow, and the dagger in my front door, were only meant to scare us. Josh was probably hoping that we’d quit our volunteer jobs and turn in the jewels along with our costumes.”
“Maybe,” Bess said, sounding doubtful. “But I sure don’t want to run into him again.” They walked along in silence as the sky darkened.
“Nancy,” Bess said, “what do you think Josh intended to do with us after we told him where the ring and earrings were?”
Nancy knew what Bess was thinking, but she answered calmly. “The ring and earrings are at the appraiser’s. There was nothing we could have done.”
“Yes, but we know everything about Josh now!” Bess exclaimed. “He’d have to make sure we wouldn’t tell anyone, especially the police. And the only way he could make sure of that is by—”
Bess stopped talking abruptly as Nancy threw up her hand in warning. She was staring intently down the street. In the distance two faint spots of light could be seen. As they came closer, Nancy realized that they were headlights.
“There’s a car coming, Bess,” Nancy said.
“Oh, no!” Bess wailed.
Grabbing Bess’s hand, Nancy began to run toward a row of old storage sheds that they’d been passing. Nancy began to look for somewhere to hide. The sheds had been built as a single unit, and there was no space in between them. Nancy realized they’d have to run to the end of the row of sheds. She looked up to see the headlights coming closer and closer.
“Bess, we have to stay as close to the sheds as we can,” Nancy said. “We’ll have to run to the end.” They began to run, and a few moments later they rounded the corner of the last shed. Nancy paused and flattened herself against the side of the shed.
“Nancy, come on!” Bess cried. “We have to get behind the sheds!”
Nancy was watching the headlights swing around a curve in the road. The car seemed to be moving down the street very carefully. But Josh knew where the trailer was, Nancy thought. She couldn’t understand why he would be driving so slowly.
As the car came out of the curve, Nancy suddenly exclaimed, “Bess! That’s my car!” She ran out from the side of the shed into the street. Stopping in the middle of the street, she waved her arms in front of the oncoming headlights.
The blue Mustang came to a stop, and Nancy heard George’s voice call out, “Nancy?”
Nancy ran around to the side of her car and greeted George with a big smile. “I don’t know how you found us, but I’m sure glad you’re here,” she said.
Bess ran up to join them. “Oh, George, thank goodness it’s you!” she cried, her face showing her obvious relief.
“What in the world happened to you two?” George asked as Nancy and Bess climbed into the car, trying to catch their breath.
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Nancy said. “But first we need to hurry back to the festival. I think Martine is in trouble.”
George pulled a U-turn in the deserted street and began driving back. “What’s wrong?” she said.
“You first,” Bess said. “What on earth are you doing here?”
George shrugged. “Well, when I didn’t see you two all afternoon, I started to get a little worried. I figured you must have found out something about the jewels at the appraiser’s.”
“We did. They’re real, all right,” Bess told her cousin.
George let out a whistle. “Anyway,” she continued, “when performance time rolled around, and I still hadn’t heard from you, I started to look around. I saw Nancy’s car near the trailer area. I went over to it and saw that the keys were still in the ignition. So I knew something was up.”
“I’ll say!” Bess interrupted again. “Josh kidnapped us!” she exclaimed.
“Josh?” George said in disbelief. “Is he the one who’s been after the jewels?”
“Yes,” Nancy said, “and he’s going after Martine’s brooch and fan holder right now. But George, how did you know where to look for us?”
George was still shaking her head in amazement. “I didn’t know where to look,” she said. “I knew you weren’t at the festival, so I decided to try the area around the festival grounds. I’ve been driving around for a while. I was almost ready to give up.”
“Thank goodness you didn’t,” Bess said gratefully.
“We owe you one,” Nancy added.
“So why did Josh kidnap you?” George asked.
“He needed to get the earrings and ring from us right away,” Nancy said. “He’s meeting with a buyer tonight, and then he’s leaving town.”
As George pulled the Mustang into the festival grounds, Bess explained how she and Nancy had been locked in Josh’s trailer. Nancy directed George to a parking space near the entrance. Then the three girls jumped out of the car and headed for the theater.
They walked in through the back and looked down toward the stage, where Romeo and Juliet had just entered its final act—the last act of the festival. The lights from the stage lit up the front row of seats, and as Nancy’s eyes fell upon the front row, her heart sank. Queen Elizabeth’s seat was empty. Martine wasn’t there!
A Royal Wrap-up
“Martine’s not in her seat,” Nancy whispered. She pulled Bess and George away from the back row of seats.
Bess gasped. “Where could she be?” she whispered, her eyes wide with fright.
“Josh must have gotten to her before the show started,” Nancy answered. “Maybe he felt he was running out of time.”
“Maybe Josh took Martine off the festival grounds, like he did with you two,” George spoke up. “We could do a quick search of the area,” she suggested.
Nancy nodded. “Why don’t you take my car, George? Bess and I will run backstage and see if anyone has seen Martine.”
George immediately turned toward the parking lot, but Nancy grabbed her arm. “One more thing. There’s a pay phone near the entrance. You call the police.”
“Got it,” George said, taking off again.
Nancy and Bess quickly made their way backstage. There was no sign of Josh under the large tent—there were just a few crew members who were busy listening to the play. As quietly as she could, Nancy moved up to the stage curtain. Suddenly she heard someone behind her whisper, “Nancy!” She turned around to see Philip Schotter, looking very worried.
“I’m glad I found you,” the director said in a low voice. “Do you have any idea where Martine is? We had to start the play without her in the audience. None of the ladies-in-waiting or the courtiers know where she is. No one does,” he said.
Nancy shook her head. Now she felt sure Martine was in real trouble. “What about Josh?” she asked Schotter. “Have you seen him?”
“No, I haven’t,” the director said, looking even more confused. “He’s usually backstage during the play, but not tonight. Nancy, what do you think is going on?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry, but I just don’t have time to explain right now,” Nancy said, looking around her. She saw Bess approaching and waved her friend toward them. “Bess will let you know what we found out this afternoon,” she said to the director. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
After telling Bess to explain everything to Schotter, Nancy then left the tent. She stopped for a moment outside the tent, thinking. If no one had been able to find Martine before the play started, then Josh must have gone after the actress while she was still preparing for the procession, she reasoned. Most likely, then, Martine would have been in her trailer. Nancy immediately set out for the trailers.
Nancy slipped quietly behind the first trailer in a row that ran alongside the woods. She listened in the darkness for sounds, but the area seemed perfectly still.
Walking cautiously between the first and second trailers, Nancy peeked around the corner, facing a long empty space separating the rows. It was hard to see in the dark, but Nancy tried. She hoped she wasn’t too late.
Suddenly two figures jumped from the doorway of a trailer at the end of the second row. One of the figures had the shadowy outline of a full-length skirt and was being pushed ahead by the second figure, who wore pants. Nancy’s heart skipped a beat. It had to be Martine and Josh.
Nancy came out from behind the trailer and began to creep down the aisle between the trailer rows, staying close to the trailers on one side. Her eyes were fixed on the two figures, who stopped for a moment as Josh closed the trailer door. He then began to push Martine forward. Nancy thought she could see the dagger in Josh’s hand. She figured he must be leading Martine toward his car. There was no time to lose.
Nancy stepped out from the shadows of the trailers and yelled, “Martine!” Instantly both figures whirled around.
Josh raised the dagger. “Hey!” he said in a surprised voice, releasing his grip on Martine.
Martine, clutching the fan holder in her hand, ran in between two trailers and slipped out of sight. Nancy found herself only a few yards away from Josh and his dagger.
Josh stood motionless for a second, looking first at Nancy and then in the direction in which Martine had run. Then he ran toward the trailers, apparently deciding to go after Martine first.
Nancy immediately took off after him. When she saw him run behind a trailer, she knew it was her last chance. She flung herself toward him in a flying tackle. Hitting him squarely in the knees, she felt him fall to the ground with a thud. From the corner of her eye she saw the dagger fly out of his hand.
“Police!” a voice called out. “Don’t move!”
Relief spread over Nancy. She could hear Josh muttering under his breath. Then she saw George run up behind two police officers.
“Nancy!” George cried. “Nice tackle!”
Nancy pulled herself up with a grin. “Thanks,” she said, brushing herself off. “But I think I’ll leave football to the pros.”
A few moments later Nancy found herself in the backstage tent, explaining Josh’s activities to the festival troupe. Every single one of them was shocked.
“I’ve been trying to explain to everyone that some of the jewels were real,” Bess said.
Philip Schotter was shaking his head. “But I just can’t believe that it was Josh Forster who had been scheming to steal them. He was my right-hand man,” the director said sadly. “Once he knew the jewels were real, why didn’t he just take them?” Schotter asked. “Why did he have to try to har