Dance Till You Die

by Carolyn Keene

  Chapter

  One

  SHORTS AND T-SHIRTS in October? George, we must be out of our minds!” Laughing, Nancy Drew turned to her friend and held up a blue-and-white top. “Do you think this top and these shorts will be right for tonight?”

  George Fayne shook her head in mock dismay as she eyed Nancy’s lightweight clothes. “I know tonight’s dance at the club has a beach theme, but I’m wearing a heavy coat.”

  “Good idea,” Nancy agreed. The entirety of Nancy’s summer wardrobe was strewn across her bedroom. She pulled the gauzy blue-and-white midriff blouse over her head and slipped into a pair of denim cutoffs. George was already wearing her outfit for the evening, a cute white tennis dress with a flared skirt. “I can’t wait to see what Bess will be wearing for her debut at the Razor’s Edge,” Nancy continued. “She’s been keeping me in suspense all week.”

  The Razor’s Edge was a popular teen dance club in River Heights. Nancy’s friend and George’s cousin, Bess Marvin, was going to start a new job there that night.

  “Speaking of suspense,” George said as she smoothed the pleats on her skirt, “I don’t know what kind of job Bess has at the club. She’s been very mysterious about the whole thing.”

  “Well, I can solve that mystery. She’s a theme hostess, which means she organizes and dresses up in costumes for special theme parties. Like tonight’s beach night,” Nancy explained. She dropped onto a little padded stool in front of her dressing table and ran a brush through her thick strawberry blond hair. “She must have come up with quite an outfit, to keep it a secret all week.”

  “They’re actually paying her to stand around in a costume all night?” George sounded disbelieving. “Only Bess could land a job like that,” she added with a mischievous grin. “How did she land that job, anyway?”

  “I think she answered an ad in the paper.” Nancy glanced at her watch. “Oops, it’s almost eight o’clock. We’d better get going.”

  The two friends left Nancy’s bedroom and headed downstairs. In the front hall they met Hannah Gruen, the Drews’ housekeeper. “ ‘Bye, Hannah.” Nancy gave Hannah a quick hug. “Just pretend you don’t see how messy my room is—I’ll pick it up when I come home!”

  “I’ll put blinders on till you get back,” Hannah joked. The cheerful housekeeper had been with the Drew family for years, ever since Nancy’s mother had died when Nancy was very young. Hannah shook her head at the skimpy outfits that Nancy and George were wearing. “Party or no party, I’m afraid you two will catch your death of cold,” she fretted.

  Nancy pulled a heavy coat out of the closet as George slipped into hers. “Don’t worry, Hannah,” Nancy said, “we’ll be warm as toast in these.”

  After waving goodbye to Hannah, Nancy and George stepped outside and decided to take Nancy’s car, a blue Mustang. Fifteen minutes later Nancy turned the car onto a downtown street. “I think the Razor’s Edge is somewhere around here,” Nancy said, peering through the windshield. “I don’t know why we haven’t tried it out before now.”

  “I don’t think it’s been open too long,” George commented. “Dance clubs seem to open and close quickly.”

  By this time in the evening, most of the shops and businesses were closed, their windows dark and still. As Nancy guided the car around another corner, she and George could see lights and people spilling onto the street in front of them. “That must be it,” Nancy said, nosing the Mustang into a space beside the curb. “I didn’t realize there’d be such a big crowd—Bess was certainly right about this place being popular!”

  Wedged between two taller buildings, the Razor’s Edge had a sleek facade of granite and glass. A crowd of teens all wearing summer clothes underneath jackets were lined up in front of a tall, burly doorman who was blocking the entrance. The doorman sported a curly black beard and seemed to be in his early thirties.

  “Why isn’t he letting people in?” George asked. “Isn’t it time for the dance party to start?”

  “Bess said the doors would open at eight forty-five, and not a moment sooner,” Nancy explained. “I think the managers like to build up anticipation in the crowd before anyone goes inside.”

  Nancy and George joined the line. “I can’t wait to get in,” Nancy overheard a young lady saying excitedly to a friend. “I’m such a fan of that French DJ they’ve got. Etienne Girard. He really jams!”

  By now the crowd had doubled. A stocky, curly haired guy who was holding a camera lost his balance and tripped over one of the velvet ropes that was separating the club-goers from the entrance. He wore glasses and seemed about twenty years old.

  “Get back, you!” the doorman snapped, seizing him roughly by the shoulder and shoving. The guy’s face reddened, and he quickly straightened up and slid back into line.

  George’s dark brown eyes flashed with anger. “That was uncalled for, shoving that guy that way,” she muttered to Nancy.

  “You’re right, George,” Nancy replied. The doorman was obviously carried away with his job, Nancy decided. She glanced at the curly haired guy to make sure he was okay. He had lowered his head to hide his embarrassment, but he seemed to be unhurt. Just then the double entrance doors were thrown open, and the teens began streaming inside.

  Once inside, everyone stood in another line in the front lobby to drop off coats and jackets with a young woman who was wearing a striped bikini and a welcoming smile. Nancy and George then followed the crowd onto the floor, where they were instantly surrounded by dancers.

  The air itself seemed to vibrate with the driving music. Nancy looked around. Real palm trees in planters and man-made Styrofoam boulders were scattered about the edges of a large multileveled dance floor. Here and there throughout the room there were metal steps leading to raised dance platforms, where couples could show off their best dance moves.

  The beam of a roving spotlight swept across the room. Those who weren’t dancing had picked up creamy tropical drinks and were moving to tables that were jammed against the far wall, directly across from the main entrance. A beach scene from some old surfing movie was being projected onto the wall behind the tables. The entire space had the look of a fun day at the beach.

  Nancy nodded toward a set of metal stairs that led up to one of the dance platforms. “Let’s climb up there and look around,” she said. She and George went up the steps. After dodging the sharp elbows of a guy who was dancing with wild abandon, Nancy and George pushed over to the railing and leaned against it to survey the crowd below.

  “Send that guy back to dancing school,” George muttered under her breath as the wild dancer fell against her during an off-center spin.

  Nancy grinned. “He must have been born with two left feet,” she replied.

  A tall boy, whom Nancy recognized from her high school class, materialized at her side. “Want to dance?” he asked.

  Nancy smiled. “Maybe later, okay? Right now I have to find somebody.” She eased away and descended the steps with George. “Let’s find Bess,” she shouted to George so she could be heard above the music. “I haven’t spotted her yet.”

  Maneuvering across the crowded floor toward the far wall, Nancy spotted a glass-enclosed booth that housed a complicated-looking control panel. Inside the booth was a cool guy, about twenty-one years old. He had a shaved head, a single dangling earring, and wore a wild, orchid-colored shirt. Weaving and bopping to the music, he was holding one end of a set of headphones to his ear while he pressed some blinking lights on the panel.

  That must be Etienne, the DJ the girl had mentioned in line, Nancy thought. He was certainly doing a great job that evening. The floor was crammed with dancers swaying and writhing to the music, which was a driving mix of technopop and snippets of old sixties songs. The effect was a c
ompelling mixture of sound unlike anything that Nancy had heard before. She felt her feet itching to dance, and she began to regret turning down the guy who had asked her earlier.

  George tapped Nancy’s arm to get her attention. “There’s Bess, over there by that door,” she said, pointing toward a side exit to their left. “And look what she’s wearing!”

  Nancy turned her head to focus on where George was pointing. “Wow!” she exclaimed.

  Bess was sitting high atop one of the larger Styrofoam boulders. She was dressed in a glittering silver mermaid outfit over a flesh-colored body stocking. Tiny seashells and flowers were artfully woven into her long blond hair, which was plaited in a single braid.

  Nancy and George threaded their way across the crowded dance floor to speak with Bess.

  “Hi, you guys!” Bess enthusiastically waved a tail fin at Nancy and George as they approached. “Isn’t the music awesome?”

  “Bess, you look absolutely incredible,” Nancy said, smiling. “That outfit is terrific.”

  There was a soft, popping sound to Nancy’s right. Bess’s welcoming smile froze into a startled expression as a camera flash illuminated her face for a moment.

  “Thanks for the picture, Bess,” a male voice broke in. Nancy turned and recognized the curly haired guy who had tripped over the velvet rope while standing in line earlier that evening. “I’m just taking some shots for my photo album,” he explained with a shy smile.

  “Sure thing,” Bess replied, blinking slightly from the flash. He gazed at Bess for a second, then disappeared into the crowd.

  “You know that guy?” Nancy asked curiously.

  Bess shrugged. “His name’s Tom something. Tom Kragen, I think. He’s just a goofy guy from my riding club who’s asked me out a couple of times. I’ve tried to discourage him without hurting his feelings.”

  “Another candidate for your fan club, Bess?” George asked with a sly grin.

  “Him? Ugh! No way!” Bess sputtered.

  A tall, olive-skinned man wearing a red silk shirt and gray tinted glasses approached the girls. He appeared to be in his late twenties. “How’s your first night going, Bess?” he asked in greeting.

  “Just great,” Bess replied. She turned to her friends. “Nancy, George—this is Lonnie Cavello. He owns the E—that’s what the in crowd calls the Edge.”

  Lonnie shook hands with Nancy and George. “Bess is our star of the evening,” Lonnie said in a friendly fashion. “Because what’s a beach party without a mermaid?” He glanced at his watch. “I guess I’d better check with our doorman, Lucas, to find out how big this crowd is getting. We don’t want any trouble with the fire marshal tonight.” He waved and headed for the front lobby.

  “Fire marshal?” Nancy asked. “What’s that all about?”

  “Lonnie told me there’s a maximum number of people the club can hold, or else the fire department can come in and shut the club down,” Bess explained. “The city is pretty strict about its fire regulations.”

  The guy who had asked Nancy to dance earlier that evening reappeared with a friend, and soon Nancy and George were hitting the dance floor, relaxing, and having a good time.

  The DJ had just begun a new music set when Nancy caught a whiff of something that smelled medicinal and vaguely sweet. She briefly wondered where the odor might be coming from.

  Just then the music died abruptly, and the dance floor was plunged into darkness. Several dancers let out excited cries.

  Then Nancy heard another, more alarming sound—the sound of a dull thud, followed by a frightened scream for help. Nancy’s stomach contracted with fear—the cry for help sounded as if it was coming from Bess!

  Chapter

  Two

  BESS! ARE YOU OKAY?” Nancy called into the darkness. She strained to hear a reply, but it was no use. The dancers surrounding Nancy were making too much noise as they chattered and milled about in confusion.

  Just then the floor lights came back on. Etienne Girard leaned down to speak into a microphone that was attached to the side of the DJ’s sound booth.

  “That little interruption was just to keep you on your toes.” Etienne spoke smoothly in a charming French accent. “This next song will get them tapping on the dance floor.” His words were followed by a crashing wave of sound that introduced the next set.

  Nancy craned her neck to catch a glimpse of Bess. She felt a surge of anxiety. Bess was gone!

  “Look, George!” Nancy cried, pointing toward the now-deserted rock. “Bess is gone—and I’m sure I heard her yell for help just as the lights went out.” Her eyes darted around the room, searching in vain for her friend.

  George followed Nancy’s anxious gaze. “I thought I heard a scream, too, but I figured it was just someone reacting to the lights going off.”

  Nancy glanced around, her gaze lingering on the exit door near the rock where Bess had been sitting. “I’m going to look for her,” she said. “George, why don’t you go inform Lonnie Cavello that Bess is missing. Maybe he knows something we don’t.”

  “Good idea,” George said, heading for the front lobby. “I’ll check out the rest of the club, too.”

  Nancy studied the door next to the spot where Bess had been sitting. A cold draft of air was seeping in around the edges of the door. It wasn’t fully closed. The edge of the door was separated from the frame by a good quarter inch. Above the metal handle on the door a sign read: Alarm Door—Do Not Open. Nancy hesitated. Then she took a deep breath and pushed on the door.

  It gave way easily. She breathed a sigh of relief when no alarm went off. She stepped through the door and found herself standing in a narrow alley lined with trash cans. There was no sign of Bess.

  Nancy scanned the area for any clue to her friend’s disappearance. A stiff breeze blew a piece of paper flat against her ankle. As she reached down to brush it away, Nancy spotted a small white object glistening in the light from a single bulb beside the door. She picked it up—and her heart skipped a beat. The object was a tiny white shell attached to a hairpin, just like the ones Bess had been wearing in her hair that evening.

  “Nancy!” George said, opening the door and stepping out into the alley. She was followed by Lonnie Cavello. The club owner had removed his glasses, and Nancy could see the concern etched across his dark features. “We looked all over the club, but found no sign of her,” George continued. “Did you find anything?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Nancy said. She held out the shell on the hairpin for them to see. “This is one of the hairpins that Bess was wearing tonight. This proves that Bess went out this way—or was forced to.”

  “I can’t understand this.” Lonnie took the shell and turned it over in his hand. “Maybe she felt sick or something and decided to go home.”

  “No way! That’s not like Bess.” George shook her head vigorously. “She’d never duck out without an explanation. Besides,” George continued, “how far could she get in that mermaid costume she was wearing?”

  “And I know I heard her scream for help just as the lights went out,” Nancy said. “There’s no way she’d just wander off because she wanted to go home.” She paused, thinking. “Was that alarm door working earlier today, Lonnie?”

  “Yes, I know it was because we just had a fire inspection,” Lonnie said. “Why?”

  “Because, obviously, it wasn’t working just now—or when Bess came out this way,” Nancy declared. “We would have heard the alarm.”

  Lonnie took in a deep breath. “You’re right. I didn’t think of that. Let’s have a look.”

  Lonnie examined the insulated wiring that ran along the inside of the doorjamb. “It’s been cut,” he announced in surprise.

  Nancy’s heart sank. “Which means Bess was probably taken against her will by someone who disabled the alarm system first.” She forced her voice to remain steady.

  George’s face was white with fear. “I’m scared for her, Nan. What can we do?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

&n
bsp; “We’re going to have to move very quickly, George,” Nancy said. “We have to call the police, and then Bess’s mom and dad.” She dreaded making the call to Bess’s parents to tell them what had happened.

  “You can use the phone in my office,” Lonnie offered.

  The three of them went back into the club and headed for Lonnie’s office. As they skirted the dance floor, Nancy was oblivious to the dancers and the pulsating music. A scary word was beginning to echo in the back of her mind—that word was abduction. Who would want to kidnap Bess, though? she asked herself. And why?

  “My office is over there,” Lonnie said, gesturing with his hand. They had reached the lobby of the Edge. On one side of it, Nancy could see a wall of frosted glass that separated it from Lonnie’s office.

  “Do you know why the lights went out just before Bess disappeared, Lonnie?” Nancy asked, following him over to his office door. “There’s got to be a connection between the two events. No one could have grabbed her like that if the lights had been on.”

  Lonnie shrugged. “We’ve been having problems with the power system ever since Etienne came to work here,” he explained. “He’s a fabulous DJ, but I’m afraid his sound system has put quite a strain on this old building’s wiring.”

  “Old building?” Nancy remarked curiously as the three of them entered Lonnie’s office. “From the outside, the Razor’s Edge looks brand-new.”

  “The former owners gave the old girl a pricey face-lift a few years back to keep up with the times,” Lonnie replied. “But actually, this building is over sixty years old, and we’re beginning to have more than our share of problems with the wiring and plumbing systems.” He sighed, and then he gave Nancy a curious glance. “You ask so many questions, you sound like a detective.”

  “She is a detective,” George interjected. “A good one.” Although she was only eighteen, Nancy had solved many mysteries in her short career. Now she was praying that her sleuthing skills would help her solve the mystery of her good friend’s disappearance.