Pageant Perfect Crime by Carolyn Keene

Author:Carolyn Keene
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin Paperbacks

Sabrina Balint-Duncan, the owner of Glamore, was the judge who had come forward to confess to throwing her scores of last year’s contestants. George had figured this out for me that morning, via a quick Internet news search. By coming into her store as a contestant, and asking her advice on gowns and pageants in general, I was hoping to get her into a comfortable place where she might tell me more about why she’d fixed Robin’s scores.

George had adamantly refused to accompany me and Bess on this particular mission. “Froofy women shopping for sparkly gowns?” she had said. “Nancy, you know I would do anything to help you solve a mystery, but …”

“But you’d rather be doing anything else?” I asked.

George had laughed. “But I happen to know the perfect girl for the job.”

Bess and I approached Glamore’s front door. I could already see tons of sparkling, flashing evening gowns. To the left of the store, a bustling salon was filled with older women, all having their hair cut or colored or permed.

“Good morning, darling,” a middle-aged woman with teased auburn hair and sunset-hued eyelids greeted Bess and me as we walked in.

“Good morning,” I replied. “I hope you can help me. I’m competing in this year’s Miss Pretty Face pageant—”

“Ah!” cried the woman, running out from behind the sales counter. “Oh, you must tell me everything! I am Sabrina, I own Glamore! You’re here for a dress, yes?”

I nodded. “An evening gown,” I said. “I was told by a fellow contestant that you loan them out.”

“Oh, yes, yes.” Sabrina ran to my side, reaching out to grab the waistband of my jeans, looking me up and down, hemming and hawing. “Your arms, you want to hide them. They are not toned.” Ignoring Bess, she grabbed my arm and pulled me over to a rack of long, short-sleeved sequined gowns. “This cut, it is called the pageant dress. It is perfect. For you, I think, pink.” She reached into the spangles and pulled out a floor-length pink-sequined dress with a sunset beach scene and—oddly—a flamingo beaded down the left leg.

“What do you think?” asked Sabrina.

“Wow,” I said honestly. “Just, wow.”

Sabrina nodded, pursing her lips in satisfaction. “It is right, I think. You try it on.” She gestured to a small dressing area toward the rear of the store. Nodding, I took the dress from her—it weighed at least twenty pounds—and lugged it over to the dressing area. Bess, still standing near the entrance, gave me an enjoying-this-way-too-much thumbs-up.

Once in the dress, I looked down at myself. The sequins seemed to sparkle with the brightness of a thousand diamonds. The dress was so heavy, it made my shoulders slump, and so long that it drooped on the floor when I was in bare feet. When I wore heels, though, I knew it would fall just at the right length.

I stepped out of the dressing room.

“Ah!” cried Sabrina in delight.

“Ahhhh!” cried Bess, bringing her hands to her mouth. I could see she was trying to keep herself from laughing.

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