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human behavior; without that, she would not have been the choreographer she was. But she also knew Ruth sometimes overlooked what was right in front of her face.
    Presently, “Could anyone want you to fail?” she suggested. After all, she reflected, if Ruth often barked at the dancers the way she had at Lily today, resentment must accumulate.
    â€œDo I have enemies, you mean?”
    â€œI guess so, yes. It happened here. We have to consider who might want to hinder your production, don’t you think?”
    Ruth shook her head, nonplussed. “My brain just doesn’t work that way. You know me, I’m a dancer. Plot is more your neck of the woods.” She hesitated, then went on more slowly, “I suppose some people would be happy if I screwed this up. Actually, I did hear Victorine wanted to choreograph this ballet herself. She’s done some choreography, but it hasn’t been wildly successful.”
    â€œDoes she like Anton Mohr?”
    â€œLike him? I don’t imagine they’ve ever spoken, except professionally. She’s certainly polite with him. I know she thinks his classical training was inadequate. He’s too modern for her, the way he moves.”
    â€œHm. What about the dancers in Great Ex? Might any of them have a grudge against you?”
    Ruth produced a sound midway between a sneeze and a laugh. “The dancers! Why should they?”
    â€œWell, think about it. Perhaps because you embarrassed or slighted them in front of their peers? I doubt you’re Lily Bediant’s favorite person.”
    â€œLily is much too sensitive. It’s ridiculous, the way Victorine coddles her. All I did—”
    Juliet cut her off firmly. “I’m not saying it was Lily. It could have been anyone with a grudge against the Jansch, I suppose. My point is simply that since the talcum powder was put in after your session ended, someone in this studio had to do it. And the people in this studio were connected with your production. Most of them dancers.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œUnless you think the custodian did it. He came in to mop the floor. But he’s the only outsider who was in here. I never left the room.”
    Ruth had finished her plum; now she gnawed at the stone with her small, sharp front teeth. “Maybe he did. Maybe he has a grievance with management.”
    â€œThat’s a little farfetched, don’t you think?”
    Ruth shrugged irritably. “I suppose. Anyway, I’d better go tell Greg.” Slowly, she began to get to her feet. “Oh, my knees!” she exclaimed, halfway up.
    â€œInjuries?”
    â€œDegenerative arthritis. Not uncommon in dancers.” She gave a tight, humorless grin. “All part of the fun.”
    *   *   *
    Juliet guarded the rosin box while Ruth went to tell Gregory Fleetwood the story of the talcum powder. When the choreographer returned, her arms were full of yogurt containers, bottles of lemonade, and sandwiches, all of which she spread out on the floor.
    â€œSorry we can’t go out for lunch. The next session starts at four.” Ruth unwrapped a ham on rye and took a lusty bite. But an instant later, she stumbled again to her feet. “Oh God, I’m so rattled, I almost forgot,” she muttered, plunging her hands into the depths of her backpack. She groped around, emerged with a sizable pink tablet and promptly downed it with a swig of lemonade. Then, with gingerly care, she lowered herself again to the floor.
    â€œVitamin?” Juliet asked curiously.
    â€œNo, Mistenflo. Cytotec.” And, as the other continued to look confused, “It’s a brand of misoprostol,” Ruth went on. “Goodness, you are an outsider. Misoprostol keeps you from getting ulcers if you have to take antiinflammatory drugs all the time.”
    Juliet was silent a moment, then understood and exclaimed sympathetically, “Oh! Which you do because of