False Moves by Carolyn Keene Page A

voice.
    â€œThat’s Brad, my new boyfriend,” she explained softly and introduced the two boys. Then she turned to watch the dancers stretching before class. It was amazing how hard they had to work! One woman casually picked up her foot and stretched her leg up around her ear. The dancer Katya had called Bridgit was still seated on the floor, her legs out to either side. She bent over andrested her chest on the floor between her legs in one easy movement. A man stood at one barre doing leg swings that were so high he almost brushed his face. And they’re only warming up, Nancy reminded herself.
    In a few minutes Colby Baxter walked into the studio, and the class musician hurried to the piano. The dancers stood up and took their places at the barre, the women’s pointe shoes making a gentle thudding on the wooden floor.
    â€œLet’s begin,” Colby said. “Two demi-pliés, two grands pliés, and a stretch forward in first, second, fourth, and fifth positions.” He turned to the pianist. “Please take a moderate tempo.”
    The musician began a smooth, calming melody, and the dancers relaxed into the first exercise of the class. Nancy could see their muscles working as hard as any athlete’s, but they made the whole workout look so effortless and graceful. It was beautiful to watch up close.
    As the class progressed, the dancers began to sweat with their efforts. Yet they always remained serene.
    Nancy sat enthralled. All the dancers were exceptional, but a few stood out as even more incredible than the others. Katya, of course, and though Nancy didn’t like to admit it, Belinda. Andre Bernarde, the tall dancer with sandy-colored hair that curled down the back of his neck,was special, too. No wonder CBT had brought him from France to perform with the company. He had a beautiful presence. But did the mind of a criminal lurk inside that handsome body?
    After about forty-five minutes of barre exercises, the first part of the class was finished. Then the dancers carried the barres out of the center of the room. Nancy watched Katya massage her left ankle gently. Poor Katya. Her ankle seemed to bother her all the time.
    Colby continued the class with a more complicated routine in the center of the floor. As he demonstrated the slow, linked movements, Nancy realized why he’d been chosen as the artistic director of CBT. He was a wonderful dancer! It was sad that James was forcing him out of the company. They’d be losing a very special artist.
    But Colby never finished showing the exercise. The studio door burst open, and Ana Lokhar breezed into the room, a man in a brown suit following on her heels. As he strode in behind her, he flashed a private investigator’s license to anyone close enough to read it. James Ellsworth hurried in after them, also, a horrified expression on his face.
    Uh-oh, Nancy thought. Something big’s up, and I have a feeling it’s not going to be pleasant.
    Colby stopped in midstep and turned toward Ana, a disdainful expression on his face. “I’mteaching a class here. Why are you interrupting us?” His voice was as brittle as fine crystal.
    â€œIt’s very simple,” Ana explained, her expression every bit as disdainful as Colby’s. “We are going to make a citizen’s arrest. I’m having her put away.” She pointed one finely manicured finger straight at Belinda.

Chapter

Eight
    Y OU CAN’T DO that!” Ned jumped out of his chair as the private detective walked toward Belinda to arrest her.
    The class was in an uproar. Colby stood at the front of the room, his mouth open, his eyes round with surprise. James looked on uselessly, unable to move. And poor Belinda just stared as the detective approached her. She looked so frightened that Nancy couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
    â€œStop! You can’t arrest her!” Ned cried again.
    â€œNo, you can’t.” In another