004 Smile and Say Murder

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy continued hanging spiders. Soon everything was set for the session, and Mick was ready to begin shooting. “Hey,” he shouted at Nancy, “get off the seamless.”

  “Sure,” Nancy said, trying to stay calm and collected as she walked over to where the photo equipment had been set up. She was determined not to show how much Mick’s rudeness was getting to her.

  “Okay, ‘assistant,’ I’m going to need you to keep my coffee cup filled and reload the cameras for me when I’m finished with a roll,” Mick told Nancy. “You do know how to do that, don’t you? Or did Yvonne just happen to forget to ask you about those particular skills during your ‘interview’?”

  “I think I can handle it,” Nancy replied coolly. She peered at Mick’s camera. “This model is great for shooting moving subjects, better with high-speed film. Gives a grainy picture, so it’s not great for portraits.” She picked up another camera. “This one is better for portraits and facial shots. Oh, and I see you’ve got a telephoto lens on it already, so you can get nice close-ups.”

  Nancy gently replaced the camera on the floor. She knew she was showing off, but it felt good. She was getting very sick of Mick’s put-downs.

  Mick was glaring at Nancy. “So Yvonne got herself a spy who knows about photography. Great. The least I can get out of you is some decent work.”

  Mick flicked on the tape deck as Danielle took her place against the white backdrop. An old Rolling Stones song came blasting out of the speakers. “Okay, Danielle,” Mick cried. “Let’s see some spider action!”

  He started clicking his camera as Danielle began moving to the pounding bass beat. She jumped, she wiggled.

  “More to the left,” Mick called, still shooting. “Beautiful, beautiful. Another jump . . .”

  Nancy had to admit Mick knew his stuff. It looked as if he were getting some fantastic shots. Danielle was a great subject to photograph, too. She was very energetic and seemed to have no inhibitions in front of the camera.

  With so much action, Nancy barely had time to do any detective work, but she did get a chance to talk to one of the other interns during a five-minute break.

  Leslie was a tall black girl about Nancy’s age. She said that she’d been an intern at Flash for almost six months. “It’s a great job,” Leslie said, “if you can get past the cattiness, back-stabbing, and general complaining.” She laughed. “Actually, it’s not so bad as long as Yvonne stays in her office. She’s really awful! Stay clear of her if you can.”

  “Why is she so terrible?” Nancy asked.

  “I think she loves screaming more than anything else in the world. She’ll make you do perfectly good work over again for some petty reason. And she’s not above nasty personal comments.” Leslie made a face. “I mean, I’m willing to put a lot into my job, but my bosses definitely cannot buy me body and soul—not for this lousy pay.”

  Nancy laughed. “How do the other people here feel about her?”

  “Oh, about the same, I guess,” Leslie answered. “She makes working here real hell. To tell you the truth, I think any one of us would gladly kill that woman if we had the chance.”

  Nancy caught her breath sharply. You might be more accurate than you know, Leslie, she thought. But she let the comment pass. “I’ll try not to let her bother me,” she said. “Hey,” she added, “I met the editor in chief today.”

  “Oh, David Bowers. He’s another nasty one. He likes pushing people around. He and Yvonne are a perfect pair.”

  “I thought I’d met him somewhere before,” Nancy told the intern. “Do you know anything about him?”

  “Yeah—I know he’s a big bore. He just came back from two weeks in Rio. And if I hear one more South America story, I’m going to barf.” Leslie sighed. “I don’t believe that guy. He started working here a few months ago and immediately began trying to impress Yvonne. He had some hot job before he came to Flash, but no one knows what it was. He’s a mystery man. Where do you think you saw him?”

  “I don’t know,” Nancy said slowly. “I wish I could remember.”

  “Let me know if you do. I’m dying of curiosity,” Leslie said with a smile.

  After another hour of nonstop shooting, Mick hit the power button of the tape deck. The studio suddenly went silent. “Okay, Danielle, take a break. Everyone else, get those creepy rubber web-makers off the set as fast as possible. I want to photograph Danielle while she’s singing, and I’ve had just about enough of those things.”

  Nancy, Sondra, Scott, and a few others got to work cutting down the spiders. Meanwhile, Nancy listened in as Mick talked quietly to the young singer. “Tired?” he asked gently.

  “Pooped,” Danielle admitted.

  “You worked hard and well! You’re a natural, Danielle. You’ve got talent—and not only as a musician. Anyway, we’re almost done. Push yourself for just a little longer and then you can rest. You deserve it.”

  Nancy was surprised to see this considerate side of Mick. Until then, he’d been nothing but awful. Well, you never know about people, Nancy told herself.

  Once the spiders were down and the cameras reloaded, Mick asked Nancy to bring over Danielle’s red guitar. Danielle decided to sing a song she’d written called “Give Me Freedom to Speak and a Nice Warm Bed.” Nancy thought she really rocked out, too.

  When the final strains of Danielle’s guitar had faded, Mick ordered the others to take down the seamless. “And you, Nancy,” he said, “I want you to stash these spiders in the props closet—way in the back, where I won’t have to look at them again.”

  Nancy dutifully picked up the box of spiders. This time she didn’t even notice Mick’s rude tone. She was too busy trying to figure out where she’d seen David Bowers before. Suddenly it came to her. Her father, being a famous lawyer, was a regular contributor to The Midwest Law Review. About five months earlier, Nancy had gone into the magazine’s offices with her father. She’d met David there briefly. He’d been editor in chief at the time. No big deal. Except that, if Nancy remembered correctly, The Midwest Law Review was owned by none other than MediaCorp!

  That seemed like a very important link to Nancy, since the company was presently trying to buy out Flash and was causing big problems between Yvonne and Mick because of it. Was David’s last job common knowledge? Was he still connected with MediaCorp? This could be a key to the case!

  Suddenly Nancy was no longer so sure that Mick was behind the letters. The evidence against him was purely circumstantial. Since the threatening song was on the radio a couple of times every day, it wasn’t so strange that Mick should sing it. And Mick wasn’t the only photographer on the Flash staff. Lots of people could have doctored the movie still. Nancy herself was capable of it. Furthermore, from the way Leslie had talked, just about everyone in the office had a motive!

  Nancy headed for the props closet. “Make sure you put those things all the way in the back,” Mick called after her.

  Nancy opened the closet door and pushed past wacky costumes, designer clothes, and a strange collection of miscellaneous objects that had been used as props for other shoots. But what was that on the floor? Drops of blood?

  Nancy moved aside a few evening dresses— and saw something that made her crawl! Sitting on top of an old chest of drawers was a severed head! A finely honed ax was suspended in the air next to it.

  As Nancy looked up, the ax began to fall— right toward her face.

  Chapter

  Five

  NANCY STARED IN horror as the ax fell toward her head. At the very last moment, she jumped out of the way like a race-car driver bailing out before a crash.

  The ax hurtled to the floor—and bounced! It was made out of rubber!

  Nancy gasped. A queasy mixture of anger, fear, and relief washed over her. She bent down and examined the toy ax. The blade was rubber, but the handle was hard wood. Some practical joke, Nancy thought. If that thing had hit her, the handle could have knocked her out, rubber blade or no rubber blade. She reached up to touch the “se
vered head” and found that it was an incredibly convincing mask. She picked up the ax and quietly walked out to the studio.

  When she appeared, Mick started laughing wildly. “Mick, the remote control whiz kid, strikes again,” he joked, oblivious to Nancy’s distress. “Simple but brilliant,” he bragged. “I rigged a remote control device to the handle of that ax. Then all I had to do was push a button to make it fall.” He laughed again and pulled a small control box out of a jacket pocket.

  “Hey, Mick,” Sondra called to her brother, “what’d you do? Pull another one of your sick practical jokes? Why don’t you cut that junk out already? People get upset by it.”

  Mick snickered. “Oh, Nancy didn’t mind too much, did you, Nancy?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “This one was really great, if I may say so myself.” He turned to Nancy and gave her a twisted smile.

  Self-possessed as always, Nancy didn’t show how much Mick’s joke had bothered her. But she wondered whether it was a gruesome warning to stay off his tail, or just his way of asserting his power. After all, Nancy told herself, he is co-owner. Maybe he likes letting the staff know he can do anything he wants around here, anything at all. If so, Mick was treating Flash like his personal playroom.

  One thing was for sure. Mick’s violent side was becoming more and more obvious.

  Mick threw Nancy another sharkish grin. Then he turned to the rest of the staff. “Good shoot,” he told them. “You all worked hard.” He motioned to Danielle to come with him, and together they left the studio.

  As soon as her brother was gone, Sondra hurried over to Nancy. “I’m really sorry about that,” she said. She seemed sincere, but still a little wary of Nancy. “What did he pull this time?”

  Nancy described what she’d seen in the closet. “I don’t scare easily,” she said, “but I have to admit, I was pretty flipped out just now.”

  “Wow, that sounds awful!” Sondra murmured apologetically, her blue eyes opening wide. “I wish that hadn’t happened.”

  “Me, too!” Nancy exclaimed.

  “Mick’s into sick jokes,” Sondra explained. “I know it’s a drag, but don’t take it personally. He does stuff like that to all the new interns.” She sighed. “The trouble is, lately, he’s been taking his jokes too far.” She looked at Nancy with embarrassment. “I . . . I’m sorry.”

  Nancy smiled graciously. “I’m okay, Sondra. And, by the way, I appreciate the apology.”

  By that time, the backdrop had been removed and all the equipment put away. Nancy and Sondra left the studio together. “Mick asked me to take you to the darkroom so we can develop the film from today’s shoot,” Sondra told Nancy.

  “Okay,” Nancy replied. “That sounds like fun. I’m sure I’m going to learn a lot working here.”

  “Yeah, that’s one of the best things about this company,” Sondra agreed. “Anyway, I’ll show you where we keep everything and help you with the first few rolls. And if you do a good job, I’ll let you finish up alone. I’ve got a lot of other work to do.”

  Nancy found that the darkroom was beautifully designed and extensively equipped. After developing one roll of film, Sondra could tell that Nancy knew what she was doing and left her to finish the rest by herself.

  Nancy developed film all afternoon, following the written instructions Mick had given Yvonne. He wanted certain rolls developed differently than others, colors brightened or changed. At the end of his letter, he’d added a note to Nancy.

  Make sure your careful not to breathe in the chemicals. Their dangerous if you spend too much time in the darkroom. Takes breaks if your feeling funny.

  Nancy was once again surprised at the more considerate side of Mick. What did it all mean? Had the incident in the studio really been just a joke? Was the violence in Yvonne’s office only a reaction to Yvonne’s own rudeness? Or was Nancy dealing with a psycho? Everyone had heard about cases of split personality, people who could switch from being kind and calm to maniacs in just a moment. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure what to think of Mick.

  Nancy read Mick’s note over and started to laugh. “Wow,” she couldn’t help saying out loud. “This guy has the worst spelling in the whole world!” He didn’t know the difference between your and you’re or their and they’re.

  Nancy rolled up the sleeves of her sweater dress and continued to work on the pictures. She had to admit that Mick was a great photographer. He’d really captured Danielle’s spirit— her energy and personality—on film.

  It was almost five o’clock by the time Nancy finished her work. As she passed the door to the publisher’s office, Yvonne appeared. “Come in for a minute,” she said with a smile. “I want to know how your first day went.”

  “Pretty well,” Nancy replied. She closed the door behind her. “I think my cover works. But one of your reporters, Brenda Carlton, knows who I am.”

  Yvonne shrugged. “No problem. She’s hardly ever around the office.”

  “One more thing,” said Nancy. “Do you think there might be an extra intern’s job for a guy named Ned Nickerson? He’s my assistant.”

  Surprisingly, Yvonne wasn’t keen on the idea. Nancy had figured she’d be thrilled to have an extra pair of detective’s eyes searching for the killer, but she wasn’t. Still, after a little hard selling from Nancy, she agreed.

  Nancy also copied the threat letters and checked a few of the computer printers in the offices to see if the type matched that of the letters. Sure enough, it was identical. And that meant that, if they had been written at the Flash offices, it would be impossible to trace the letters to any one person.

  Nancy cleaned up the darkroom. After she’d put everything away, she said goodbye to several people and got ready for the train ride back to River Heights.

  But when Nancy stepped out of the building into the fading afternoon sunlight, she noticed a familiar figure waiting for her. Tall, toned, and terrific-looking, it was Ned Nickerson. “Hey, honey!” he called.

  “Ned!” Nancy cried, melting happily into her boyfriend’s arms.

  “Mmm,” Ned said, giving Nancy a long, lingering kiss.

  “Mmm,” Nancy replied, kissing Ned back and staring blissfully into his soft, dark eyes as she ran her fingers through his fine, light brown hair.

  At last the couple broke apart. “What are you doing here?” Nancy asked.

  “What do you mean?” Ned teased. “We haven’t seen each other since yesterday. The loneliness was killing me! And what else do I have to do on a beautiful Wednesday afternoon besides drive into Chicago and pick up my gorgeous girlfriend?”

  Then Ned’s handsome face became serious. “Actually, Nancy, I was a little worried about you. After our phone conversation this afternoon, I started having horrible thoughts about that guy you told me about.” Ned flashed Nancy a tender smile. “And I’m sorry we argued.”

  “It was nothing compared to what I went through at the office!” Nancy exclaimed. As they climbed into Ned’s car and headed for the suburbs, she told him what had happened, from Brenda Carlton and David Bowers to Mick and his sick sense of humor and Sondra’s apology.

  “Sondra sounds nice,” Ned commented when Nancy had finished.

  “I guess she is,” Nancy admitted, “but I have a feeling she doesn’t want to make things any easier for me. She seems to think I’m Yvonne’s latest pet.” Nancy rolled down the car window and let the spring air blow through her hair.

  “You can’t really blame her for that,” Ned said.

  “No,” Nancy agreed. “Anyway, this case is a little frightening—but very intriguing.”

  “I don’t know, Nancy.” Ned was doubtful. “I’d say the accent is on dangerous. I mean, Mick may already be on to your true identity. Maybe we should just go to the police and let them handle it.”

  “No,” Nancy argued. “Right now, a crime hasn’t even been committed. There’ve been a few nasty letters, a few ugly fights, a practical joke. None of that’s very out of the ordinary for a high-pressure office lik
e Flash.”

  “Right,” Ned said sarcastically. “People leave severed heads in office closets all over Chicago.”

  “Come on, Ned, you can’t expect me to give up the case before I’ve found even one concrete clue, can you?”

  “But, Nancy,” Ned protested, “this Mick character might be a real nut case. You could be putting your life on the line.”

  “If I thought that,” Nancy answered, “I’d have you pull over at the next roadside diner and I’d call the police immediately. You know, you’re making the most simple mistake a detective possibly can—you’re assuming the obvious. Mick might be the person behind the threats, but it could be just about anyone at Flash.”

  “Great! So there are a bunch of violent lunatics over there, not just one,” Ned muttered.

  “By the way,” Nancy said, “I asked Yvonne about hiring you as another intern. It was funny, but she was pretty hesitant at first. Anyway, I convinced her that I really needed you, and she said okay.”

  Ned sighed, keeping his eyes on the road. “I still think we’d be better off at my parents’ cabin.”

  Nancy caught her breath. “So that’s what all this is about. You’re just upset about missing our trip!”

  “Hey,” Ned said, getting annoyed, “I happen to want to spend a little time with the girl I love. What’s wrong with that?”

  “I don’t know,” Nancy replied, her temper beginning to flare. “It seems as if you’re being selfish. I mean, who cares about some stupid vacation when a person’s life might be in danger?”

  Ned took his eyes off the road just long enough to give Nancy a look of disbelief. “And who cares about some stupid boyfriend,” he said, returning his eyes miserably to the highway, “when you could be running around, getting yourself killed by an art director with an ax to grind? You know, Nancy, I don’t think you appreciate me very much.”

  “Look, I need to do this, Ned. Okay?” Nancy said shortly.