Chapter 3 The Clue of the Dancing Puppet by Carolyn Keene
An Enlightening Scene
Although Bess pleaded, Nancy would not consent either to leave the Van Pelt estate or to give up trying to solve the mystery of the dancing puppet.
Bess shrugged. “I suppose it’s no use, but I admit I’m worried.” She gave Nancy a searching look. “Probably you already have a hunch about this whole case.”
Nancy laughed. “A hunch, Bess, but not one good clue.”
Bess and George demanded to know what the hunch was.
“It’s possible there is hidden jealousy between the pros and certain of the amateurs,” Nancy told them. In a whisper she added, “I think we should watch everybody. The Spencers seem like fine people, but there may be some angle not noticeable on the surface. One of the amateurs may be trying to drive the pros out of here. On the other hand, the pros may be trying to get control and turn the theater into an entirely professional one.” Nancy suggested that the girls separate and each do some sleuthing. “Bess, suppose you keep an eye on Tammi. George, will you watch the comings and goings to the house? I’ll wander around the theater.”
The girls agreed. As Nancy walked toward the big red barn, she told herself she would phone her father and have him look up the record of each of the pros. “Maybe I’d better ask him to do the same with the amateurs,” she thought.
When she entered the theater Nancy was amazed to see how well equipped it was. On the paneled walls hung lovely paintings by local amateur artists. The stage was spacious and the scenery attractive. The audience half filled the place. Nancy slid into a vacant seat in the last row and in a few moments became fascinated with the Civil War play in progress. Some time had passed before she reminded herself she had come to do some sleuthing. The acting had been so excellent and the play so interesting that she had completely forgotten her work.
But suddenly Nancy felt too weary to do anything but sit still. “Anyway,” she told herself, “the first logical bit of detective work might be just to watch the amateur performance closely.”
Presently the leading man, young Bob Simpson, walked on stage. He was about twenty years of age, very tall and dark, with darting, flirtatious eyes. After a short time, he was joined by Tammi Whitlock, who looked very attractive in her neat, trim bodice, long skirt, and ruffled silk bonnet.
As Nancy watched the stage, something suddenly dawned on her. The characters were doing a love scene, which Bob Simpson was playing convincingly, yet still only as an actor. Tammi, on the other hand, was putting almost too much into the lines, and it became evident to Nancy that the leading lady was very much interested in the leading man.
“I’m sure the feeling isn’t mutual,” Nancy decided, as the scene changed.
The play ended soon afterward, and the amateur performers took many curtain calls before the extremely enthusiastic audience.
Nancy made her way backstage. She was just in time to meet Bess, who whispered, “Wasn’t Tammi something in that love scene? She certainly overplayed it. I’m glad Bob didn’t fall for it. I just don’t care for that girl—and I don’t think Mr. Spencer does, either.”
“What makes you say that?” Nancy asked eagerly.
Bess reported that when the show was over, Tammi had waylaid Bob and impishly repeated some of the lines from the love scene. Bob had reddened, but before he could reply, Mr. Spencer had marched up to Tammi.
“Wow! Did he bawl her out!” Bess said. “He told Tammi she was making the performance seem like a grade school skit!”
Nancy smiled as she and Bess walked back to the house. One by one the actors and actresses, having changed clothes and removed their make-up, appeared in the hall. Most of them went directly to the parking lot and left. Others remained to talk. Bob Simpson had been among the first to leave, possibly avoiding Tammi.
Within half an hour everyone had left. Nancy and her friends got bottles of soda from the refrigerator and went up to Nancy’s room.
“Well, George,” said Nancy, “what’s your report?”
“Nothing to do with the dancing puppet,” George replied. “But I have a couple of other interesting items to tell you. There was a regular battle between Tammi and Mr. Spencer just before you girls came into the house. He said to her, ‘Young woman, keep your personal feelings out of this theater!’ ”
“And what did Tammi say?” Bess asked quickly.
Her cousin grinned. “For a second I thought she was going to hit him, but all she said to Mr. Spencer was, ‘And suppose you stay out of my personal affairs!’ ”
Bess was thoughtful a moment, then said, “Nancy, it just might be that Tammi is a jealous person. I’m certain she has heard enough about you to be afraid you’d give her some competition with Bob Simpson, and that’s why she didn’t vote to have you join the Footlighters.”
George laughed. “Bess, don’t ever tell that to Ned Nickerson,” she said, referring to Nancy’s special date.
Nancy blushed a bit, then asked George what else had happened.
“I don’t know if this has any significance,” George answered, “but during the performance, two of the actresses came out and went into a dressing room. Pretty soon I heard one of them crying.”
“Oh, what a shame!” Bess said sympathetically. “Did you find out why?”
George said the one who was crying was a girl named Kathy Cromwell.
“She’s Tammi’s understudy,” Bess told the others.
“But she has a part in this play,” said Nancy. “And she’s very good, too.”
“Yes, she is,” Bess agreed. “But only in her own part. Every time she rehearses the lines of Tammi’s part, she freezes or gets them mixed up. Poor Kathy! She’s a sweet girl—not a bit like Tammi. In fact, quite shy, except on the stage.”
Nancy reminded George that she had not yet told them why Kathy was crying. “Did it have anything to do with Tammi?” she asked.
“I don’t know. It could have,” George answered. “The only thing I heard her say was, ‘I can’t stand it another minute!’ The girl who was with her said, ‘Oh, Kathy, please—don’t let her get you down!’ ”
Bess’s eyes flashed. “I’ll bet anything they were talking about Tammi. Well, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open next time I’m backstage.”
Nancy had already started to undress, since she had had a long and exciting day. Bess and George said good night and left her. She slept soundly and did not waken until eight o’clock the following morning. When she left her room to take a shower, Nancy discovered that the door to Bess and George’s room was open.
“They must be downstairs,” she told herself. “I’ll hurry.”
Nancy bathed and dressed quickly. She found her friends in the kitchen getting breakfast. Three good-mornings were said at once, and George added, “Ham and eggs?”
“Umm—sounds perfect!” Nancy admitted.
The three girls sat down at a large, round table in a bay window of the kitchen. They ate heartily, enjoying a few leisure minutes, then washed the dishes and put them away.
“What’s first on the agenda?” George asked Nancy.
“I’d like to investigate the theater when no one’s in it,” Nancy answered.
Bess offered to straighten up their rooms. “You girls go on ahead. I’ll join you later,” she said.
George laughed. “You won’t have to make that offer twice,” she exclaimed. “I’ll take sleuthing with Nancy any time to bedmaking!”
The two girls stepped out to the kitchen stoop and walked underneath the covered arbor which led to a side door of the theater. The arbor was used by the actors to get back and forth to their dressing rooms. Grapevines climbed lazily over the trellis, giving the walk an artistic appearance.
The barn door opened into one side of the stage, where scenery stood piled against the rear wall. The opening set of the current play was already in place. Curious, Nancy and George gazed about but saw nothing unusual.
“Let’s try the small barn,” Nancy suggested.
They went outside and walked over to a sliding door that opened into the attached building. Inside was a small floor area with stables to the right. On the left, where the building adjoined the stage was a loft filled with hay.
Nancy’s eyes fell on a ladder leading to the hayloft. “Maybe this place holds a clue to the mystery,” she said hopefully. “Let’s go up and see.”
George followed her, and together the girls began to probe the hay. Presently George cried out, “Nancy—I’ve hit something!”