“This wasn’t inside the bag?” Nancy asked.
Bess shook her head. “No. It was stuck to the bottom of it. But look, it’s for just two items, and the prices match the ones on the two containers. That can’t be a coincidence.”
Nancy and Ned examined the receipt. “I know this place,” Ned said. “It’s a convenience store two or three blocks from campus.”
“It’s dated yesterday at two-sixteen P.M.,” Nancy said. “Good work, Bess. This is the most solid fact we have so far.”
“Now all we have to do is find out where everyone was at two-sixteen,” George said. “Why don’t we start with you, Ned?”
“Uh, sure,” Ned said. He scratched the back of his head. “Let’s see, two-sixteen . . . I must have been done with lunch, but it was a while before you guys showed up . . . . I know Cyril and I spent some time firming up plans for the weekend. Or was that in the morning, after class?”
He paused. His face reddened. “I guess I don’t really know,” he admitted. “Who keeps track of what he’s doing every minute?”
Nancy grinned. “My dad, for one,” she said. “He’s a lawyer. His time is what he gets paid for.”
“Still, there’s a point,” George said. “It’s not necessarily suspicious if somebody can’t account for his time.”
“No,” Nancy agreed. “But if somebody can, that’s a point in his favor.”
At Nancy’s suggestion they fanned out in search of the leading IFC members. Twenty minutes later they met again in front of the IFC booth.
“Any alibis for yesterday at two-sixteen?” Nancy asked, looking around the little circle.
“Nope,” Ned said. George shook her head.
Bess gave them a smug look. “I have one,” she said. “Guess who? Vlad! He was playing tennis yesterday between two and three. I got the name of his partner, so we can check it out.”
“If he told you who he was playing with, it’s bound to check out,” George said.
“A friend could have bought the stuff for him while he was playing tennis,” Ned pointed out.
Nancy considered that. “True,” she said. “But it’s a pretty weird favor to ask somebody. What if the other guy hears about the sabotage at lunch today and starts wondering? Why take the risk?”
Bess suddenly grabbed Nancy’s arm. “Oh, no!” she gasped. “I don’t believe it.”
“What is it?” Nancy asked in alarm.
“Dina just went into the tent backstage,” Bess said breathlessly. “Do you know who was with her? Cheb Rachid, the lead singer of the Rai Rebels!”
“Oh, that’s right,” Nancy said. “I meant to tell you. I saw some of the group with her earlier. Do you want to meet them? Come on.”
“I couldn’t!” Bess exclaimed, pulling back.
“Of course you could,” Nancy said with a laugh. As they neared the yellow-and-green tent, Dina came out. Her face was strained. When she saw them, she brightened.
“Do you think it would be okay to say hi to the Rai Rebels?” Nancy asked her. “Bess is a big fan.”
“I am sure they would love it,” Dina replied. “They are far from home, and not so many people here have heard of them yet.”
The tent had an old-fashioned look. Nancy wondered if Emerson College had bought it years earlier from a circus that went out of business. She pulled the flap of the door aside and pushed Bess through. The light inside was subdued, filtered through the colored canvas. Half a dozen folding chairs were scattered near the central pole.
The musicians were standing around a table that held a platter of sandwiches, a bowl of fruit, and bottles of water and soda. Most of them wore gold or red satin shirts with billowy sleeves and flowing collars. One, with thick, curly hair and a cute smile, wore black jeans and a black shirt with the top buttons undone and the tails hanging out.
“That’s Rachid,” Bess whispered.
Rachid spotted them and came over. “Hello,” he said. “Is it already the hour?”
It took Nancy a moment to realize he was asking if it was time for the group to go on. She glanced at Bess, who looked tongue-tied.
“No, no,” Nancy said. “We just wanted to meet you and say how much we like your music.”
“Thank you very much,” Rachid said. His teeth gleamed when he smiled. “It is an honor to be here.”
Nancy wondered if standing right next to a star was making her dizzy. Then she realized that it wasn’t her. She was still standing straight up. But the heavy wooden pole that supported the tent wasn’t. It was tilting to the right, ever so slowly at first, then with increasing speed.
The tent was collapsing—and they were trapped under it!
8
In-Tents Danger
“Look out,” Nancy shouted. “Everybody down!”
The members of the band looked around, startled. Rachid snapped a warning in Arabic.
Nancy did not wait to see how they reacted. She grabbed one of the metal chairs and put it on top of another. Then she did the same again with another pair of chairs.
By now the heavy, dusty canvas was billowing down around them. Nancy fell to her knees and ducked between the two sets of chairs. Bess and Rachid crawled in next to her. The chairs kept the canvas a few inches above their heads.
