Mick was interrupted by Bess’s loud voice. “Dimitri! Oh, good. I’ve been waiting for you!”
“Quick!” Mick whispered. “He’s coming.”
Nancy’s eyes darted to the back of the studio, looking for a way out. She saw only a solid, windowless wall. “Mick, there’s no back door!” she whispered.
Just then she heard footsteps on the stairs.
Nancy’s heart raced as she and Mick dropped to the floor behind the huge copy machine.
They were trapped—and there was no way out!
Chapter Five
NANCY HUNCHED BEHIND the machine, holding her breath. She could barely make out Bess’s voice over the pounding in her own ears.
“It’s really important,” Bess said persuasively. “It’s such a beautiful day—you know, what we call in America a Kodak moment. I just have to capture it on film. Can you take my picture standing next to the fishing boats in the harbor?”
“I’m sure that would be a beautiful photo,” Dimitri said, gushing with flattery. “But can we do it later? I’ve just returned from Delos, and I need to unload—”
“But this camera will be perfect,” Bess persisted. “You’ll need a good camera to capture the bright sunlight, the deep blue sea . . . and me.”
After a moment’s pause Dimitri sighed. “For you, I will do it,” he said at last.
Way to go, Bess! Nancy thought. She and Mick stayed hidden until they heard the footsteps retreat.
“It’s a good thing Dimitri has a thing for Bess,” Mick whispered when the coast was clear. “Otherwise, we’d be dead meat right now.”
Nancy stood up and brushed off her sundress. “I want to finish checking out this equipment,” she told Mick. “We’d better hurry.”
She wasn’t surprised to see a small darkroom with vats of processing solution. In addition to the color copier, she found a hot-glue gun, a giant stapler used to bind books, and a machine with the word Artograph embossed on it.
“I’ve seen that before in art studios,” Mick said, tapping the Artograph. “It’s used to project an image on paper or canvas so that the artist can trace over it. With this machine Dimitri could copy just about any design.”
Nancy let out a low whistle. “Including anything that might be used for passport paper. Here’s a laminating machine, too—and acetate,” she added, lifting up a sheet of clear plastic from a shelf along the wall. “This is the stuff they use for that clear plastic coating over a passport photo.”
“This studio has a lot more equipment than a simple island photographer would need,” Mick said. “Dimitri could definitely be using it to forge passports.”
Nancy was searching the row of file cabinets along one wall. She opened one drawer and pulled out a basket containing thick darning needles and twine. “A sewing basket?” she said, shaking her head as she stuffed it back into the drawer. “I still haven’t found anything that directly relates to passports.”
“Such as?”
“Printed passport covers or that patterned paper they use for the pages. Even discarded passport photos,” Nancy answered.
Mick picked up an envelope from the top of a worktable and looked inside. “This might fit the bill,” he said excitedly. “Pictures of a young woman—a rather attractive one, at that.”
“What?” Nancy spun around to look at the two sheets of photographic paper he was holding. “Those are contact sheets,” Nancy said. “Photographers use them all the time. That way they can look at the negative-size prints and decide what they want to blow up.” She looked closer at the square shots of a girl’s face. “It’s Niki!”
“That maid you were talking about?” Mick asked. “The one who gave Dimitri an envelope?”
Nancy nodded. “She must have handed him this envelope. Don’t you see, Mick? Dimitri is probably going to slip one of these photos onto Bess’s passport so Niki can get into America!”
Nancy and Mick searched the rest of the studio for the stolen passports but came up empty-handed. Besides the photos of Niki, they found a few packets of portraits, but nothing that might be used as a passport photo.
“We still don’t have nearly enough evidence to go to the police,” Nancy said, sighing with disappointment. “We’ll just have to keep an eye on Dimitri and see if we can catch him in the act.”
“We’re so lucky to be included in a family party,” Bess said as the girls left their room that evening.
“Zoe said that there’ll be folk music—and maybe even some plate-throwing,” George added.
She led the way to the terraced lawn adjoining the inn’s taverna. As they crossed the hotel grounds, Nancy had to admit that it was a perfect night for an engagement party. The wine-dark sea, the lemon-scented air, and the starry sky were a romantic backdrop, perfect for two people who were going to be married.
The party area was festooned with hanging baskets of flowers and flickering candles. A long buffet table was arranged along one side of the dance floor, which had been set on the patio near the taverna. Although Nancy couldn’t see them, she could smell the smoke of fire pits on the far side of vine-covered trellises.
“I don’t see Zoe,” Nancy said, scanning the crowd of guests who were milling about the tables, laughing and talking. She was eager to fill Zoe in on what she and Mick had discovered in Dimitri’s studio.
“She must be helping out inside,” George guessed.
Nancy didn’t see Niki, either, but she hoped the maid was there. She wanted to talk to her as soon as possible about the photos—and Bess’s stolen passport.
Nancy, Bess, and George found Mick at a small table, clinking glasses with Theo. Dressed in a copper-colored linen shirt and smart black jeans, Mick looked heartbreakingly handsome.
“Join us!” Theo said, standing up to pull some chairs over for the girls. He was wearing formal black slacks and a white cotton shirt that showed off his tan.
“You look smashing,” Mick whispered in Nancy’s ear as she sat next to him.
Nancy smoothed the skirt of her royal blue minidress. “Are you trying to get on my good side, Devlin?” she teased, grinning at Mick.
“Who, me?” Mick said innocently.
He waved at a passing waiter and ordered three soft drinks for Nancy, Bess, and George. “Theo was just telling me about Dragonisi, the islet off the coast of Mykonos,” Mick told the girls. “He’s been spending a lot of time fishing there.”
Nancy tried to remember what she had read about Dragonisi in her guidebook. “Isn’t that the deserted islet that’s riddled with caves?”
“Not to mention a legendary dragon?” Bess added.
Theo laughed. “The dragon hasn’t been seen for hundreds of years, but the caves are worth exploring. Dragonisi is isolated—very romantic.”
Mick placed his hand over Nancy’s. “Just the spot for us, eh, Nancy?”
“Sounds great,” she agreed. Turning to Bess and George, she said, “I know we decided that we wanted to visit Naxos, too. What do you guys think? Want to give Dragonisi a shot?”
“Not me,” Bess said, tucking her blond hair behind her ears. “I’m taking the noon flight to Athens tomorrow to get a new passport from the American Embassy, remember? After what happened on Delos, I’m not taking any more chances.”
“I’m going with Bess,” George added. “But there’s no point in all of us springing for airfare back to Athens. We can plan on hitting Naxos on Thursday.” Turning to Nancy and Mick, she added, “But you guys might as well go ahead and visit Dragonisi tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow it is,” Mick said with a wide smile. “Can we hire you to take us there?” he asked Theo.
“Tomorrow?” Theo stared down at the table. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do it.”
Nancy saw that Theo was suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation, although she didn’t know why.
“Well, then, we’ll just have to find another boat, since Dragonisi is not to be missed,” Mick said. “I’ll ask Zoe if she has any suggestions.”
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“Did I hear my name?” Zoe asked, stopping by their table. She was wearing a strapless dress in a deep shade of scarlet.
Mick explained about their plans for the following day. “And Theo cannot take you?” Zoe asked, narrowing her dark eyes. When he said nothing, Zoe quickly assured Mick that she would make the arrangements for the boat. “We’ll pack a lunch for you and Nancy to take along.”
“That would be great,” Nancy said. Excusing herself, she rose from the table and stepped aside with Zoe. She summarized what had happened that afternoon, then asked, “Do you remember seeing Niki in the office yesterday, when the passports were stolen?”
“Niki?” Zoe thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t remember, but it’s not something I would notice. My father and I trust our staff.” She seemed offended that Nancy suspected a staff member.
“Zoe, time is important,” Nancy said, trying to make her understand. “We might be able to recover Bess’s passport before it falls into the wrong hands. If Niki’s involved, it’s important that I talk to her as soon as possible.”
Zoe hesitated. “You can’t talk to her now,” she told Nancy. “Today is Niki’s day off. She took the ferry to Tinos, to visit her aunt.”
Stifling a sigh of disappointment, Nancy asked, “When will she be back?”
“Tomorrow morning. You can speak with her then,” Zoe relented. “I’ll arrange it.” Then she reached out and squeezed Nancy’s hand. “For now, please just try to enjoy the party. All this talk of crime is not good on such a lovely night.”
With that, Zoe turned back to the crowd at the table and announced, “Please help yourself to the food. The goat has been roasting for hours, and it’s been cooked to perfection.”
Bess grinned. “I thought I smelled something delic—” She paused, her blue eyes concerned. “Did you say goat?”
“Not your everyday River Heights fare,” George said, heading over to the buffet table. “But it does smell great.”
As Nancy and the others stood in line for food, the smoke of the charbroiled meat made Nancy’s mouth water. In addition to the grilled goat meat, there was chicken stewed in tomato sauce, potatoes, rice, and the classic Greek salad of tomatoes, cucumbers, black olives, onions, and feta cheese. Before long the teenagers were back at their table, their plates heaped with food.
“You know, Theo,” George said, dipping a hunk of crusty bread into the olive oil from her salad, “we’re relying on you to teach us some authentic Greek dances.”
Bess looked over at the dance floor, where a few guests were already moving in time to the soft music. The trio of musicians was made up of a violinist, a clarinetist, and a man who played an instrument that resembled bagpipes. “I’d love to learn, but the steps look awfully complicated.”
“It’s not so difficult. A good dancer listens to the heart,” Theo said, his eyes twinkling. “I am sure you can handle that, Bess.”
“I’ll give it my best shot,” Bess said.
As soon as everyone finished eating, Zoe brought the group over to introduce them to her cousin Helena, and Helena’s fiancé, Petros. While Bess and George were talking with the bride-to-be, Nancy stole away for a word with Zoe’s father. She asked if he had heard from the police about Bess’s passport, but he didn’t have any news.
Finally Nancy joined her friends on the dance floor. For the moment she was at a dead end. She decided that she might as well take Zoe’s advice and have a good time.
Zoe was walking the group through the steps of the Stae Tria, one of the most popular Greek dances. With their hands on one another’s shoulders, all the dancers formed a wide circle. The band was playing a slow song, so it was easier to follow along at first.
“You’re doing well,” Zoe said as George kicked at the air.
“One, two, three, kick, kick,” Bess counted aloud, laughing when she missed a step.
Nancy counted along, trying to get the hang of the dance. She couldn’t help laughing, too. The lively beat of the music filled the air until almost all the guests joined the circle. Theo added some dramatic effects, leaping through the air and slapping his feet on the floor.
Gradually Nancy fell into the rhythm of the dance. The complicated steps seemed more and more natural as Mick cheered her on. To her amazement, one man danced among the crowd with a bottle balanced on his head. Two other men danced around with dinner plates, which they smashed against a wall with bravado. The song ended, and applause and cheers erupted from the crowd.
“The plate-breaking is a Greek custom called spasimo,” Zoe explained. “We try to keep it at a minimum, or else we’ll run out of dishes!”
“I’ll bet,” Nancy said, laughing.
The dancers were applauding the band when Nancy noticed a sudden movement in the shadows beyond the trellis at the edge of the lawn. She squinted into the darkness, and suddenly she saw a figure.
“Is something wrong?” Mick asked, noticing the expression on her face.
But before Nancy could answer, the stranger stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, with wavy brown hair and a muscular physique. Moving onto the candlelit dance floor, he tapped George on the shoulder.
George spun around, and her mouth fell open.
“Kevin!”
Chapter Six
NANCY COULD HARDLY believe it. It was Kevin Davis, George’s boyfriend!
Without a second thought George flung herself into Kevin’s arms. He held her close for a tender kiss, then whirled her around. “I’m glad you remember me,” he teased.
“What are you doing here?” George asked breathlessly. “I thought you were on assignment.”
“I am. I have to meet up with my TV crew on Sunday in Madrid. Until then, I’m all yours—aside from a quick interview I need to do in Athens.”
“Terrific!” George stood aside as the others rushed over to say hello to Kevin. No sooner had he been introduced to Mick, Theo, and Zoe than the band launched into a slow, romantic ballad. Within seconds Nancy found herself swept into Mick’s strong arms.
“This is called the ballo,” she heard Theo say to Bess. “It’s a couple’s dance, played in honor of the engaged pair.”
Bess sighed. “How romantic!”
Turning her head, Nancy saw a starry look in George’s eyes as she moved into Kevin’s arms. Behind them, Helena and Petros swirled in the center of the dance floor.
When Mick led Nancy over to the edge of the dance floor, she could hear the sea in the distance, lapping against the shore. “It’s such a beautiful night,” she said, tilting her head back so that she could see the stars glittering in the ink black sky. “I hate for it to end.”
“Who says it has to?” Mick pulled her closer, and Nancy smiled, forgetting about Bess’s stolen passport. All she could think about was Mick and the delicious feeling of dancing in his arms.
“I know it was my idea to come into town before the flight to Athens,” Bess told Nancy the next morning, “but after all that dancing last night, I should have stayed in bed.”
Nancy’s only response was a yawn. It was almost nine o’clock, but the engagement party had ended very late, and she was a little, tired. She and Bess had already rushed through a breakfast of milk and cheese pies in a bakeshop, called a zacharoplasteion. Now bleary-eyed, they were walking along the main street of Chora, dodging tourists and donkeys laden with baskets.
George had met Kevin for a morning jog on the beach, and Mick was probably still asleep. Lucky guy, Nancy thought. Since Bess and George were taking a noon flight to Athens, Bess had persuaded Nancy to join her for an early trip into town.
“After all this, I hope my mother likes the statue,” Bess said. “Oh—there’s the store.”
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the stationery store was open. It didn’t take her long to pay for the windmill, which Spiros, the owner, had set aside for her after Zoe called him. The silver-haired man chewed on his unlit pipe as he wrapped the windmill in tissue and placed it i
n a box. He had just offered to gift wrap the box when the phone rang in the back room.
“Please,” he said. “Excuse, one moment.”
While he was gone, Nancy browsed around the shop. She looked up as the shop door opened and Dimitri stepped in. “It’s your friend, the paparazzo,” Nancy said under her breath to Bess.
Dimitri lowered a camera case to the floor, then walked behind the counter. “Ah, it is my favorite American girl,” he said, winking at Bess. “I will have those photos for you this afternoon. Where is my friend, Spiros?”
“He’s in the back,” Bess said. “He was just about to wrap that for me”—she leaned over the counter to point to a box—“when the phone rang.”
“Ah, then let me take care of it. Spiros and I help each other all the time. We are very good friends.” After placing the box on the counter, Dimitri began to search the shelves. “Wrapping paper,” he mumbled, pulling out boxes of sealed stationery, cardboard, and notepads—everything but wrapping paper.
Nancy was beginning to think Bess would miss her flight to Athens when Dimitri held up a sheet of pale blue paper. “Ah, here we go,” he said. “Beautiful paper. But then, my friend Spiros truly appreciates fine craftsmanship.”
With a few quick folds Dimitri wrapped the box.
“Thanks—evcharistó,” Bess said, dropping the package into her tote bag.
“You’re welcome,” Dimitri said. Just then Spiros returned, and the two men spoke briskly in Greek. Nancy sensed that Dimitri was a little nervous around the older man, though she couldn’t imagine why. As Spiros sat down on a stool, Dimitri quickly darted out from behind the counter and picked up his camera case.
“How about a photo of Nancy Drew, the American detective?” he suggested.
Nancy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. How did Dimitri know she was a detective? “No, thanks,” she told him. “Besides, I’m on vacation.”