“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Mick said, coming up to her and placing his hands on her shoulders.
“I guess I’ve been daydreaming,” Nancy said. “Can you imagine what it must have been like to live on this island two thousand years ago?”
“So you’re drawn to faraway places, eh? I’d love to show you Australia sometime.” Mick stepped around to face Nancy and took her hands in his. “Promise me you’ll come visit.”
Nancy laughed. “Oh, sure. I’ll just jet over when I have a free weekend.”
“I’m not kidding,” Mick said, his expression serious.
He actually meant it, she realized. “Mick, I’d love to see Australia, but—”
“Don’t worry about details,” he said, placing a finger over her lips. “We’ll work it out.”
Nancy was thoughtful as she and Mick followed the others down the hill toward lush palm groves. Soon they arrived at a walkway lined by six grand sculptures of lions stretching toward the east.
“This is called the Terrace of the Lions,” Zoe explained.
“It’s hard to believe they’re two thousand years old,” Bess said.
Still thinking of Mick’s invitation, Nancy didn’t say much as the others commented on the statues. Mick was suddenly quiet, too. He wandered to one of the far lions while George, Zoe, and Bess strolled on, heading back toward the harbor.
Nancy was about to follow when she spotted a photographer with curly black hair poised behind the base of one of the lions. She moved around the lion until she was face to face with Dimitri.
“Yásou,” he said, greeting her in Greek as he adjusted a camera tripod. “You are one of the American girls staying in Mykonos, no?”
“That’s right,” Nancy said, her eyes skimming over Dimitri’s bags of equipment. He was using a sophisticated camera with a long lens. “No more pictures of tourists?” Nancy asked him.
“Not today. Today I’m taking beautiful photographs, which I will make into postcards in my studio,” he said proudly.
This guy loves to exaggerate, Nancy thought. “Don’t you need special equipment to make postcards?” she asked.
“Of course,” he agreed. “But my studio is the best on the island of Mykonos. One of the best in all of Greece! It has everything I need.”
Including everything you need for forging passports? Nancy wondered, remembering the envelope she had seen Niki hand him on the beach that morning.
“I’d love to see it,” she said, watching Dimitri carefully. “In the States I’m an amateur photographer.” She was bending the truth, but she thought that Dimitri might believe her.
Instead, he seemed to withdraw. “My equipment is far too technical to interest you.”
“I’m a fast learner,” Nancy insisted.
“It is not a good idea,” Dimitri said, forcing a smile.
Nancy had the distinct impression that there was something in his studio that Dimitri didn’t want her to see.
Just then Mick came around the statue and took Nancy’s hand. “We’d better get going if we want to catch up with the others,” he said.
After saying goodbye to Dimitri, Nancy and Mick continued down the stone-paved path toward the boat landing. During the ride back to Mykonos, she mulled over the encounter with Dimitri. If his studio contained equipment that could make postcards, it had to be fairly sophisticated—maybe sophisticated enough to create a good replica of a passport page.
That thought was still nagging at her when the teens sat down to a late lunch at the hotel’s taverna. Zoe had decided to join her father, so Nancy, Mick, George, and Bess shared a table.
“You look as if you’re lost in space,” George told Nancy as she passed around a platter of moussaká, a casserole made of layers of eggplant and ground meat covered in a zesty sauce.
“I’ve been thinking about Bess’s passport and wondering who on this island could pull off a forgery,” Nancy said. Lowering her voice, she shared her thoughts about Dimitri’s studio. “All that ‘special equipment’ could come in handy for passport forgeries—especially if he has three American passports to work with.”
“Wow,” Bess said, stabbing a chunk of juicy eggplant. “Do you think he’s the forger?”
“It’s possible,” George said. “Niki had access to the room with the safe, and Nancy saw her give something to Dimitri this morning. Maybe she agreed to steal the passports and sell them to him.”
Nancy had been thinking the same thing. “I still don’t have any proof, though. I really want to check out Dimitri’s studio. He was reluctant when I said I wanted to see it . . .”
“So maybe the stolen passports are there,” Mick finished for her.
“Would the forger have to be on this island?” George asked. “I mean, maybe the thief took the passports to Athens to have them altered.”
“Maybe,” Nancy agreed. “But we saw the beefed-up security on Delos today. If security is that tight all over, there’s a good chance that the thief—and the passports—are still on Mykonos.”
After lunch Bess decided to go to Chora to purchase the windmill from Spiros’s shop. Zoe and George had already decided to stay behind and squeeze in a swim before the engagement party that night, but Mick and Nancy opted to go along with Bess.
When they got to the town, the labyrinthine streets were empty except for a few dogs napping in shaded doorways.
“That’s right!” Nancy said, slapping her forehead. “Zoe told us yesterday that it’s just like in Italy. The businesses close up for siesta from two to five.”
“Maybe the shop with my windmill is open, though,” Bess said hopefully. But when they reached Spiros’s shop, the door was locked and the lights were off.
Mick peered through the glass door into the darkness. “What’s next?” he asked.
Nancy was beginning to think the trip would be a waste of time. But as her gaze landed on the building’s second story, she murmured, “I’d still like to check out Dimitri’s studio.”
Looking up and down the deserted street, Mick said, “Maybe he hasn’t returned from Delos yet.” He climbed the narrow white staircase that led to the studio door, then knocked. “And if no one’s home, what’s the harm in having a quick look?”
When no one answered, Mick looked through the window next to the door. “I don’t see anyone,” he said. He reached through the open window, stretched, and turned the bolt on the door. “So much for security,” he said, and grinned.
He pushed the door open and leaned inside. “The coast is clear, but he could turn up while we’re snooping around.”
Nancy turned to Bess. “Why don’t you stay out here and keep a lookout?”
“Okay.” Bess sat in a shady spot at the bottom of the stairs while Nancy joined Mick at the door. “But try to make it quick. I’m roasting.”
Inside the studio the first thing Nancy noticed was the wide array of equipment. In the shadowed light she could see a large copy machine, a paper cutter, a light box, an overhead projector, and other equipment. Fake background drops were stacked in one corner.
Although Nancy wasn’t an expert, she could see that Dimitri hadn’t exaggerated about his studio. “Pretty impressive,” she murmured.
From the way Mick whistled through his teeth, she could tell that he agreed. “This color copier is really something,” he said, leaning over the huge machine. “This baby can do anything. It can make copies bigger, smaller, darker, lighter—hardly the type of thing you’d expect to find in a vacation resort. I’ll bet—”
Mick was interrupted by Bess’s loud voice. “Dimitri! Oh, good. I’ve been waiting for you!”
“Quick!” Mick whispered. “He’s coming.”
Nancy’s eyes darted to the back of the studio, looking for a way out. She saw only a solid, windowless wall. “Mick, there’s no back door!” she whispered.