“Please,” he said. “Excuse, one moment.”
While he was gone, Nancy browsed around the shop. She looked up as the shop door opened and Dimitri stepped in. “It’s your friend, the paparazzo,” Nancy said under her breath to Bess.
Dimitri lowered a camera case to the floor, then walked behind the counter. “Ah, it is my favorite American girl,” he said, winking at Bess. “I will have those photos for you this afternoon. Where is my friend, Spiros?”
“He’s in the back,” Bess said. “He was just about to wrap that for me”—she leaned over the counter to point to a box—“when the phone rang.”
“Ah, then let me take care of it. Spiros and I help each other all the time. We are very good friends.” After placing the box on the counter, Dimitri began to search the shelves. “Wrapping paper,” he mumbled, pulling out boxes of sealed stationery, cardboard, and notepads—everything but wrapping paper.
Nancy was beginning to think Bess would miss her flight to Athens when Dimitri held up a sheet of pale blue paper. “Ah, here we go,” he said. “Beautiful paper. But then, my friend Spiros truly appreciates fine craftsmanship.”
With a few quick folds Dimitri wrapped the box.
“Thanks—evcharistó,” Bess said, dropping the package into her tote bag.
“You’re welcome,” Dimitri said. Just then Spiros returned, and the two men spoke briskly in Greek. Nancy sensed that Dimitri was a little nervous around the older man, though she couldn’t imagine why. As Spiros sat down on a stool, Dimitri quickly darted out from behind the counter and picked up his camera case.
“How about a photo of Nancy Drew, the American detective?” he suggested.
Nancy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. How did Dimitri know she was a detective? “No, thanks,” she told him. “Besides, I’m on vacation.”
“But you are famous,” Dimitri insisted. “My friend Officer Rossolatos sings your praises.”
So that’s how he knows, Nancy thought. Did that also mean Dimitri knew about the passport thefts?
“I don’t know about that. . . .” she hedged, looking him in the eye. Was he testing her? She wasn’t sure if his naive enthusiasm was real or just a cover-up for a cunning master of forgery. As she and Bess said goodbye and left the store, Nancy resolved to find out.
The two girls were nearly a block away when Bess said, “Dimitri seems to be ‘good friends’ with everyone on Mykonos.”
“It is a small island,” Nancy said. “Still, I wish he hadn’t heard that I’m a detective. It’s going to make it harder to pin him down if he’s the passport forger.”
When Nancy and Bess arrived at the hotel, they found George, Kevin, and Mick lounging in the garden terrace overlooking the sea. George’s short brown curls were still damp from her shower, and she was wearing a denim skirt and red, short-sleeved top.
“Ready for our trip?” George asked Bess.
Bess nodded, pulling the wrapped windmill from her tote bag. “Yup. I just want to put this up in our room.”
“Have a seat, Nancy,” Mick said. He patted an empty chair. “We’ll get you some lemonade.”
“No, thanks,” Nancy told him. “I’m going up to the room with Bess to change. And I’m going to need some sunscreen and a hat if we’re going to spend the afternoon on Dragonisi. We’ll meet you back here in fifteen minutes, okay?”
When Nancy reached the top of the white staircase leading to their room, she found that the door was ajar—again! “That’s strange,” she said, turning back to Bess. Cautiously she pushed on the door and peered inside.
The sight before her made Nancy do a double-take. From the back the young girl in their room resembled Bess. She had on Bess’s red straw hat and a matching red bolero jacket. But looking closely, Nancy recognized the skirt and apron of the hotel’s housekeeping staff.
It was Niki Christofouros—dressed in Bess’s clothes!
Chapter Seven
“Niki,” Nancy said, stepping into the room. “What are you doing?”
The dark-haired maid spun around and gasped. “I—” she stuttered, fingering the hem of the red jacket. “Um, Zoe told me you wanted to see me.”
“Hey, that’s my outfit,” Bess observed, more confused than angry.
“I was just—putting it away,” Niki said, quickly peeling off the jacket.
This time Bess didn’t let Niki off the hook. “Wait a minute,” she said, standing with her hands on her hips. “I know you went through my stuff before, and that same day my passport was stolen.”
Looking squarely at the maid, Nancy added, “Did you take those passports from the safe?”
“No!” Niki insisted, her brown eyes wide. She shook her head vehemently. “I swear it. I admit I have been looking at your things. But I never stole anything.”
“I saw you on the beach yesterday morning—with Dimitri,” Nancy said.
Confusion darkened Niki’s eyes. “Dimitri?”
Nancy nodded. “I saw you hand him an envelope. Did you give him the passports?”
“No!” Niki insisted. “I gave him back the photographs that he took of me because they were awful! I wanted some photographs of myself to send to—” She paused, searching for the right words. “Agencies in the United States, for being a model. My sister tells me I could be famous. But Dimitri made me look . . . plain, like an ordinary person.”
“You wanted pictures for a portfolio?” Bess asked, catching on.
Niki nodded. “I need a port—a portfolio to be a model in America. That is why I was studying those.” She pointed to the dresser, where some of Bess’s fashion magazines were open. “But I did not take anything.”
Nancy looked down at the glossy photos of smiling models. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Fashion magazines are available here. I’ve seen them in shops.”
“But they are European magazines,” Niki explained. “I am interested in what is going on in America. My sister lives there, and I am going to join her as soon as I have saved enough money.”
Bess and Nancy exchanged a look. Nancy could tell that Bess believed Niki’s story. She had to admit, the young girl was convincing.
“If it’ll help your career, why don’t you take these,” Bess said, gathering the magazines and handing them to Niki. “I’m sure you’ll find some new styles that will look great on you.”
“Evcharistó,” Niki said, hugging the magazines to her chest. She started toward the door, then turned back when she realized she was still wearing Bess’s hat. “I almost forgot,” she murmured, smiling. “You have such beautiful clothes.” Quickly she put down the hat, picked up her bucket of cleaning supplies, then ducked out the door.
“A fashion ally!” Bess said, clapping her hands together.
Nancy didn’t say anything right away. After tossing her penlight, sunscreen, and an orange hat into a canvas bag, she looked at Bess and said, “I still want to check out the stuff about her sister.”
“Oh, come on, Nancy,” Bess protested, taking the wrapped package out of her tote bag and placing it on the dresser. “What do your instincts tell you?”
Nancy thought for a moment. “That Niki’s just a nice girl who wants to be a model. And she had the bad luck to get caught snooping around in your things.”
“So you do understand,” Bess said, grinning. “She’s just a slave to fashion—like me.”
Bess and George were in high spirits as they jumped into a cab with Kevin and headed off toward the airport. Kevin had been able to schedule his interview for that afternoon so that the three of them could travel together.
When Nancy met Mick on the terrace after seeing off her friends, her heart did a little leap. He was dressed in black swim trunks and a green T-shirt that hugged his broad, muscular shoulders. “Ready to slay the dragon?” he asked, spinning his baseball cap around on one finger.