A cloud of dust rose around them as Nancy and Mick struggled to regain their balance and finally wobbled to a stop. “You okay?” Mick asked, turning back toward Nancy.
“Fine,” she said. But a moment later her nerves twanged as she looked up into the eyes of the man with the scar. The silver moped had circled back, Nancy saw, and it was just a few yards away. The man with the scar was standing next to the bike, staring at Nancy and Mick. Nancy caught a quick glimpse of the man on the bike. He was thin, with dark hair and a full beard.
Oh, no! Nancy thought. The man with the scar had recognized them from Dragonisi!
“What now?” Mick muttered through clenched teeth.
Before Nancy could answer, the man hopped back on the moped and revved the engine. The silver bike sped away into the square.
“Come on,” Nancy said, getting off the bike and following on foot. She had gone only a few steps when the bike disappeared around a corner. With all of the activity in the square, there was no way she and Mick could follow them now.
Nancy let out a frustrated sigh. Not only had the crooks lost her and Mick before they could find out where they were going, but two very dangerous people knew who she and Mick were. “This case is definitely heating up,” Nancy said under her breath. “I just hope we don’t get burned!”
Lunch was a loud affair. The taverna Zoe had suggested was filled with a spirited crowd of students and tourists. Nancy tried a dish of lamb and vegetables wrapped in crispy pastry leaves called filo. While everyone ate, she and Mick filled them in on the commotion in the market square.
“Sounds like we missed a pretty dramatic scene,” Kevin commented.
“It really got out of hand.” Mick shook his head, looking miserable. “I can’t believe we blew our cover and let those guys slip away.”
“It’s not your fault,” Nancy said, touching Mick’s hand. Then she turned to George. “How did it go with Dimitri?” She still needed evidence to connect him to the people with the explosives.
“Did you see him talk to a woman with red hair—”
“Or two guys—one bearded, one scar-faced?” Mick added hopefully.
Unfortunately, George and Kevin had nothing to report. From what they’d seen, it looked as if Dimitri had come to Naxos to make some money photographing tourists—nothing more.
Later that afternoon, when Nancy spotted Dimitri on the hydrofoil headed back to Mykonos, she decided to confront him. She doubted that he would actually confess to forgery, but with a little pressure he might let some useful information slip out.
She found him waiting in line at the hydrofoil’s snack bar. “I have a confession to make,” she told him. “Remember how I wanted to see your studio?”
Dimitri’s dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Yes . . .?”
“Well, I just couldn’t resist.” Nancy hesitated as color rose in Dimitri’s face. “One day when you were out, I sneaked in and checked out the equipment.”
The photographer slammed his hand on the snack bar counter. “That was a stupid thing to do! You could have been hurt.”
“Of course, I didn’t touch anything,” Nancy lied, surprised that Dimitri was so upset.
“That’s not the point,” he said. He motioned Nancy to a corner by the snack bar so that no one could overhear their conversation. “You must stay away from the studio,” he said emphatically. “The truth is, it doesn’t really belong to me. My friend lets me use it.”
Nancy shot him a dubious look. “And all the fancy equipment,” she persisted. “Does that belong to your friend, too?”
Dimitri nodded. “My friend—Spiros. He owns the stationery shop right below the studio.”
All at once, Nancy felt her investigation shifting. Spiros? Was Dimitri lying to her? She couldn’t be sure. He was obviously upset, but that would be natural if he had just learned that she was closing in on his forging operation.
“And what does Spiros use the equipment for?” Nancy asked.
Dimitri shrugged. “Please don’t tell your friend, the one with the blond hair and the pretty smile,” he asked.