Free Dangerous Relations by Carolyn Keene Page A

you!” Bess cried, her eyes wide with concern.
    â€œHe 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 getting a good chewing out,” George said.
    â€œLet’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.
    â€œThen he did send the postcard!” Bess exclaimed.
    â€œNot necessarily,” Nancy said, thinking it over. “Someone else could have used his typewriter. With or without his knowledge,” sheadded, thinking of how easy it was to break into his office.
    â€œThe 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 . . .”
    â€œI see what you mean,” George said. “But if it wasn’t Keiser and it wasn’t Vera, that leaves only Katrina.”
    â€œOr 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.”
    â€œNice 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.”
    â€œMy 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.”
    â€œOh, poor Eduardo!” Bess said. The cyclist was walking toward them, shoulders slumped. As he approached, riggers were securing the steelmesh 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.
    â€œAnd 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.
    â€œHaven’t the police found your motorcycle yet?” Richard asked Eduardo as he joined them.
    â€œNo, 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!”
    â€œYou have only one bike?” George asked Eduardo.
    â€œOne is all I can afford,” Eduardo replied.
    â€œA customized bike like that costs an arm and a leg,” Richard put in.
    â€œI 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