Dangerous Relations by Carolyn Keene Page A

leap . . . saw his white teeth gleam in a snarl . . . felt the heat of his breath. In another second, he’d be upon her!

Chapter

Eight
    N ANCY SWUNG her bag with both hands. It deflected the animal. He backed off with a startled yelp, then came at her again. Fear zinging through her veins, Nancy swung her bag a second time.
    Katrina ran around the side of the trailer. “Down, Hugo! Down!” She stamped on the free end of his leash. The dog jerked up short, unable to reach Nancy.
    Nancy leaned shakily against the trailer. George raced to her side as Katrina dragged the dog over to the tree and hooked him to his chain.
    The labrador quieted at Katrina’s command and sat down. “Now, you stop that. Stop that growling!” she said firmly. Leaving him chained to the tree, she came back to Nancy and George.
    â€œHe’s trained to act mean, but he wouldn’t have hurt you. What are you doing here, anyway?” Katrina demanded, eyeing Nancy coldly.
    â€œYou didn’t answer your front door. I thought maybe you didn’t hear me, so I tried the back door,” Nancy said, thinking fast.
    Katrina’s eyes narrowed. “Snooping, huh?”
    Nancy ignored the question and asked one of her own. “Katrina, do you know how to ride a motorcycle?”
    â€œNo. And I don’t have time for your questions—I’m late for practice,” Katrina added.
    â€œWe’ll walk you there,” Nancy said quickly.
    Katrina shrugged and unlocked her door. When she came back out, she had her athletic bag.
    â€œWas Natalia hurt?” she asked.
    â€œNo. But I think it was a deliberate attack. Where have you been for the past half hour?”
    Katrina stopped in front of the outdoor ring and leveled an angry stare at Nancy. “Are you accusing me?”
    â€œDo you have an alibi?” Nancy shot back.
    â€œWhy would I need one?” Katrina demanded.
    Nancy folded her arms. “You hate Natalia. You read her mail. You told Marshall Keiser about the letter from Ringling, making it sound as if Natalia had already accepted. And then you caused her to fall from the trapeze.”
    â€œYou can’t blame me for that. She missed hertrick, that’s all.” Katrina resumed walking. Her strides were long.
    Nancy kept pace. “She missed her trick because you greased the bar with petroleum jelly.”
    â€œThat’s crazy!”
    â€œIs it?” Nancy reached into her shoulder bag for the sash and the jar of petroleum jelly. “I found these in your garbage.”
    Katrina’s jaw dropped. Then she blustered, “You had no right to dig through my garbage! I’ll tell Marshall! He’ll throw you out!”
    Nancy called her bluff. “Do that,” she said. “But first, you should know the towel Natalia wiped her hands on yesterday had petroleum jelly on it. I had the smudges analyzed at the crime lab. I can take this sash to the lab, too, and have these stains analyzed.” Nancy pointed out the blotches. “I think the results will be conclusive—even in Mr. Keiser’s eyes.”
    Katrina said nothing. Her face was pale.
    Nancy folded the sash lengthwise and tied it around her waist. “The way I figure it, you hid a dab of jelly right here,” she said, sliding her finger into the space between the folds. “Then you climbed up the ladder. While the rest of us were talking below, you greased the bar.”
    â€œNatalia went first. I didn’t touch that bar,” Katrina said.
    â€œYes, you did,” Nancy said, knowing it was time to push. “I saw you. You held the barwithout swinging out on it. Then, when practice was halted, you said you were going to the cookhouse. But you didn’t go straight there, did you?”
    Katrina looked away, but Nancy didn’t let up. “You went home and changed first. You couldn’t risk someone noticing the stain on your sash. That’s why