Danger on Parade

by Carolyn Keene

  “He actually seems happier this year,” Jill said. “I can understand why. Entertaining the parade’s special guests sure beats handling all the problems I’ve had to cope with.”

  Aileen wagged a finger at Jill. “Oh, come on. You know that heading the parade means that the higher-ups have confidence in you. If it goes off well, you’ll be in a good position to become the vice president of public relations.”

  “Do you think it’s possible that Neil is resentful that you got the job and he’s trying to make things difficult?” Nancy asked, thinking out loud.

  Jill shook her head. “Neil’s been nothing but a help. I couldn’t have gotten through the explosion without him,” she said.

  Just then one of the guards knocked at the door and told Aileen that her crew was ready to leave. As the reporter said goodbye and left the office, Nancy looked at her watch.

  “It’s almost nine o’clock,” she told Jill. “Are you going to the party at Morelli’s? I’m supposed to meet Bess there.”

  Jill got to her feet and let out a deep sigh. “I’m not in much of a party mood, but I guess the head of the parade should put in an appearance,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  • • •

  Morelli’s was an Italian bistro with an espresso bar and several tables arranged around a large dance floor. The iron-backed chairs reminded Nancy of the outdoor cafés in Europe. Waiters in short, tight-fitting red jackets glided among the maze of tables holding trays of delicious-looking food over their heads. Red lights shone down on the crowded dance floor, and rock music vibrated through the room. A curved staircase rose up to a balcony overlooking the dance floor.

  Nancy spotted Bess at a large, crowded table near the staircase, talking to Greg. “Nancy! Jill!” Bess shouted, waving at them. “I thought you’d never get here!”

  Nancy slipped into an empty seat at the table as Jill went over to talk to Neil, who was standing by the stairs.

  “These are some of the other parade guests,” Greg told her, gesturing to the people seated at the table. He introduced the model Lauren Brown, Marshall Garton, the Olympic skier, and Pam Hart, the actress.

  Nancy couldn’t help being awed. Turning to Pam, who was sitting closest to her, Nancy said, “I loved your last movie.”

  “Thanks,” Pam replied, smiling. “I’m working on the sequel now.”

  “Oh, Nancy, look what I bought at Mitchell’s before we came here.” Bess tapped a multicolored silk scarf that was knotted around her neck. “Neil and Greg insisted that I splurge.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Nancy told her. She looked up as Neil and Jill joined them.

  “Okay, everyone, it’s time to boogie!” Neil said. He grabbed Nancy’s hand and led her to the dance floor.

  Before Nancy knew it, everyone from the table was moving to the music. She smiled as she saw Greg twirl Bess around. Obviously Bess’s thoughts were on romance, not mystery, tonight. Even Jill seemed to be having a good time. Nancy relaxed and let the music take over, pushing all thoughts of the explosion and break-in from her mind.

  • • •

  “I don’t know, Nancy. It sounds dangerous,” Eloise Drew said the next morning. She and Nancy were cleaning up the breakfast dishes in the small kitchen of her apartment in Greenwich Village.

  Nancy had just filled her aunt in on her plan to go talk to Louis Clark. She was struck by how much her aunt looked like her father, Carson Drew. They had the same lustrous brown hair and elegant features. But at the moment, her aunt’s forehead was wrinkled with worry lines.

  “I have to start somewhere. It’s already Tuesday, and Louis Clark is my only suspect right now,” Nancy explained.

  “Can’t you just enjoy Thanksgiving without all of this detective stuff?” Eloise asked. Then she chuckled and added, “Of course you can’t. You’re Nancy Drew.”

  She smiled and kissed Nancy on the cheek. “What should I tell Bess when she wakes up?”

  Nancy started for the hall closet to get her coat. “I’ll probably be back before then!”

  Nancy took a taxi to Clark’s Department Store, which was located just a few blocks south of Mitchell’s on Broadway. She stopped at the information desk on the ground floor and learned that Louis Clark’s office was on the seventh floor, so Nancy took the escalator.

  Unlike Mitchell’s offices, Clark’s were on the same floor as one of the selling areas. They were set apart only by a hallway stretching back from the housewares department. At the end of the hall was an open area with a reception desk. A gray-haired woman sat at the desk.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  Nancy took a deep breath. She hoped the story she had thought up would be enough to get her an interview with Louis Clark. She had worn a nice pair of tan pants and a blue blazer so she would appear more professional.

  “Hi. I’m from The New York Times,” she fibbed, mentally crossing her fingers. “I know I should have called first, but I was passing by and thought I’d take a chance that he’d be in. I’d like to interview him for a feature we’re doing on leading figures in New York commerce.”

  The woman gave Nancy an appraising look, then buzzed Mr. Clark’s office. She spoke into the phone briefly, then hung up and turned to Nancy again.

  “Mr. Clark has a meeting, but he can spare a few minutes for you. I’ll take you back. His secretary is out sick.” The receptionist ushered Nancy into a big office. A short, balding man sat behind a wide mahogany desk, chomping on a cigar. Nancy did a double take when she saw what was sticking out of his breast pocket. It was a white handkerchief with the letters L.C. embroidered on it!

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Nancy began, sitting in one of the two upholstered chairs in front of the desk.

  Louis smiled at her. “Always glad to oblige the press,” he said.

  And get publicity for your store, Nancy added silently. She started by asking a few simple questions, and soon Louis Clark was telling her the story of how his grandfather founded the store and built it up to be the best in New York.

  While he spoke, Nancy glanced surreptitiously around his office. She didn’t see anything that could link him to either the break-in or the explosion at Mitchell’s Brooklyn warehouse—not that she would expect him to leave evidence lying in plain sight. She decided to try and goad him into making a slip.

  “And is Clark’s still number one?” she asked, pretending to take notes. “I’ve heard some people say that the Thanksgiving Day parade gives Mitchell’s an advantage.”

  Louis Clark’s face turned bright red at the mention of his competition. “I don’t think so,” he said, looking at her suspiciously. “Why are you asking this?”

  “I’m just trying to get a sense of how you deal with your competition, Mr. Clark,” Nancy told him.

  “How— Why, you—” Louis pushed his chair back and stood up abruptly. “Get out!” he shouted angrily. “I don’t know who you think you are, but if I ever see you around my store again, I’ll ruin you and the Mitchell’s Thanksgiving Day parade!”

  Chapter

  Five

  NANCY STARED BLANKLY at Louis Clark. I sure found his sore spot, she thought.

  Nancy quickly stood, mumbled an apology, and left the office. She was deep in thought as she rode the escalator down to the main floor. It was obvious that Louis Clark considered the Mitchell’s Thanksgiving parade a huge thorn in his side. The question was, would he really make good on his threat to ruin it?

  She still needed solid proof that he was behind the break-in and sabotage, but the handkerchief was a good start. She would have to find a way to make a more complete search of his office.

  Nancy stepped outside onto the noisy street and walked to the subway entrance nearby. She bought a token and consulted the subway map to see which train would take her closest to her aunt’s apartment. The downtown train she got on was crowded. The bright orange seats were all taken, but Nancy didn’t mind standing. There were so many different people to look at�
�from teenagers with hair dyed purple and blue to businessmen with briefcases—that the ride passed quickly.

  Before she knew it, she had reached her stop in Greenwich Village and was being swept upstairs to the street in the flow of people. A few minutes later, she was back at her aunt’s.

  “Nancy, I went out for a walk, and I saw the cutest shirt. You have to see it,” Bess said as Nancy walked into the living room. Bess was sitting on the couch, sipping a glass of juice. She was wearing a black jeans skirt with a red sweater tucked into it, red wool tights, and short black boots.

  “Did you have any luck at Louis Clark’s office?” Eloise called from the kitchen. Normally she would have been at work, but because of Bess and Nancy’s visit, she had taken off the three days before Thanksgiving.

  “I may have found who’s been trying to wreck the parade,” Nancy announced, sitting down on the couch next to Bess.

  Bess sat up straight. “Who?”

  The night before, Nancy had told Bess about the break-in at the warehouse. Now she related what had happened during the fake interview she had conducted that morning. When she was done, Bess let out a sigh of relief.

  “Nancy, thank goodness! I mean, I’ve been trying to have a good time, but I was scared I was going to go to jail.”

  “We still need hard evidence,” Nancy cautioned.

  “I’m sure we’ll find it,” Bess said, taking a sip of her juice. “Oh—by the way, Greg called. He and Neil are going to be sightseeing this morning, but they want to meet us for lunch at a place called Kim and Karen’s Grill. He gave me the address.”

  Nancy raised an eyebrow at her friend. “Things seem to be getting serious between you and Greg.”

  Bess’s face lit up at the mention of the actor’s name. “He’s great, Nancy,” she said. “I mean, I don’t think there’s a chance for a major romance or anything, but I just like being with him.”

  “Well, before we go meet them for lunch, let’s go see that shirt!”

  • • •

  Nancy and Bess were loaded down with bags when they arrived at the restaurant located in SoHo, an area of Manhattan known for its art galleries. They had spent almost two hours shopping in the unusual boutiques in Greenwich Village.

  “I think that silk shirt I got will look great with my new pants,” Bess said as they entered the restaurant.

  “Definitely,” Nancy agreed. She spotted Greg and Neil waiting in a booth toward the back.

  “Hi!” Bess said brightly as the two girls slid into the booth.

  The two guys barely said hello. Nancy noticed that Greg wouldn’t look Bess in the eye. What was going on? Why were they being so unfriendly?

  “I’m starved,” Nancy said, trying to break through the tension.

  “Mmm,” Greg said noncommittally. He stared down at his menu.

  Bess shot Nancy an uncomfortable look as an uneasy silence settled over the table. It wasn’t broken until the waiter came to take their order. Nancy and Bess ordered grilled chicken sandwiches on Italian bread, while Neil and Greg ordered hamburgers.

  As Neil handed the waiter his menu, he turned to Bess. “So, have you cleared up your problem with the police?” he asked curtly.

  “Neil told me you’re the lead suspect in the explosion, Bess,” Greg added, leveling a cool gaze at Bess.

  Bess looked as if she was going to burst into tears. “It—it was all a misunderstanding!” she said. She got up abruptly and hurried to the bathroom at the rear of the restaurant.

  Mumbling an excuse to the guys, Nancy quickly followed. When she entered the rest room, Bess was standing at the sink, wiping her eyes with a wadded-up tissue.

  “Greg hates me,” she said.

  “He doesn’t hate you,” Nancy assured her. “He’s just concerned. Don’t worry, Bess. We’re going to clear your name.”

  She felt terrible for Bess. It didn’t seem fair for the guys to judge her when there wasn’t any conclusive evidence.

  The girls stayed in the rest room a few more minutes, until Bess’s eyes became less bloodshot.

  “Where’s Greg?” Bess asked when they returned to their table.

  “He’s filming a talk show this afternoon, so he had to eat and run,” Neil replied, nodding toward Greg’s empty plate.

  During the rest of the meal, Nancy tried to keep up the conversation while Bess silently picked at her grilled chicken sandwich.

  “It must be fun entertaining so many celebrities,” she said to Neil.

  Neil shrugged. “It’s a lot of work. I have to make sure they all get special treatment at their hotels and that they see the sights in New York. The good part is that everyone loves being in the parade, so they’re all pretty friendly. Take Greg —who would ever guess that someone so famous and good-looking would be so down to earth?”

  Nancy felt Bess shift uncomfortably in her seat.

  “He looks just like his pictures,” Nancy said, trying to keep the conversation going. “I don’t think he could take a bad photo. I bet even the photo on his driver’s license looks good.”

  Neil laughed and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “I take horrible pictures. Look at this.” He pulled out his Mitchell’s Department Store ID card. “I look like I’m sneezing.”

  “Your face does look a little twisted,” Nancy said, smiling. She showed the ID to Bess, but Bess merely nodded. After they talked a little longer, Neil excused himself, saying he had to get back to the store. “The man who’s playing Santa is coming for a rehearsal. Jill’s swamped, so I said I’d handle it.

  “Oh—by the way, I’ve organized a party tonight at the dance club Inverted,” he added. “We’ll be there around nine o’clock.” He wrote down the address for the girls, paid the bill, and then rushed out the door.

  It wasn’t until after he was gone that Nancy noticed his Mitchell’s ID lying on the table. “Oh, no—he forgot this.” She picked up the card and slipped it into her bag. “I guess I’ll give it to him at the club later.”

  Bess didn’t seem to have heard. She was staring down at her plate in silence. After a long pause, she finally spoke.

  “Thanksgiving is ruined,” she said. “Greg hates me. He just left without even saying goodbye.”

  Nancy wasn’t sure what to say. Greg had acted very coolly toward Bess. “Well, if he’s going to be so quick to judge you, that says a lot about the kind of guy he is. I don’t think you should let him ruin your vacation.”

  “You’re right,” Bess said, giving Nancy a weak smile. “This is Thanksgiving. It would just be more fun if Greg weren’t mad at me, that’s all.”

  Nancy smiled and said, “Come on. Jill invited us for a behind-the-scenes look at the parade. Let’s go over to Mitchell’s and see what’s happening this afternoon. Maybe we’ll even see Santa rehearsing!”

  • • •

  “What do you mean the clown costumes haven’t arrived yet?” Jill was saying into her telephone receiver as Nancy and Bess arrived at her office.

  Seeing Nancy and Bess, Jill waved them in. A moment later she hung up the phone and smiled at the girls.

  “How would you two like to take a walk with me?” she asked. “One of the two companies that are providing our clown costumes keeps delaying delivery. My assistants haven’t had any luck getting them, so I’ve got to go myself.”

  “Sure, we’ll come along,” Bess said.

  As they made their way down to the street, Nancy noticed that Jill seemed more relaxed than she had since Nancy and Bess’s arrival. “How’s everything going?” Nancy asked.

  “Actually, today is the first day in a while that I feel in control,” Jill explained. “Neil let me know that the celebrity guests have been arriving on time, and the guest who was sick called to say she’ll be able to make it, after all. She’ll arrive Wednesday night. Except for these clown costumes, everything seems to be falling into place.”

  Jill told the girls that the costume store was about ten short blocks from Mitchell’s in the theater di
strict, and she suggested they walk. “This is a great city to walk in,” Jill said. “It’s the best way to see it—and sometimes the quickest way to get around.” As they walked, they passed theater marquees advertising various plays. The costume store was located near a large theater. A black sign above the door read Disguise, Inc. Three mannequins were in the window, dressed as a fairy princess, a mermaid, and a soldier.

  A bell rang as they entered the shop. A glass case with a cash register at one end ran along one wall. Racks filled with costumes and tables loaded with props and hats were squeezed into the rest of the space.

  “Hello. May I help you?” asked a short, gray-haired man who stood behind the glass counter.

  “I’m here to pick up the clown costumes for the Mitchell’s parade,” Jill said.

  The man gazed at Jill uncomprehendingly. “They were delivered to the store yesterday.”

  “They were supposed to be, but my staff never received them,” Jill said firmly.

  “No, miss, I am sure they went out yesterday,” the gray-haired man said. He shuffled back behind the counter and picked up a pile of receipts. “Let’s see. The records of yesterday’s deliveries are right here,” he murmured, flipping through the stack. “Lane, Lansman, Marshall, ahh— Mitchell’s.” He held up the pink paper. “Here’s the receipt.”

  Jill frowned. “That’s impossible,” she said. “Who signed for the costumes?”

  Nancy and Bess gazed over Jill’s shoulder at the pink slip on the counter. All three of them gasped as they read the signature.

  There, next to the X, was the name Bess Marvin.

  Chapter

  Six

  I—I COULDN’T have signed for them!” Bess stammered, turning red. “I’ve never even seen any clown costumes!”

  Jill took a deep breath. “Bess, are you sure you didn’t sign for the delivery?” she asked in a tight voice. Nancy could tell she was trying hard to control her anger.