For a moment Chief McGinnis didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell if he was confused or embarrassed. Then suddenly he joined with the others in a round of laughter and applause.
Right on cue, Harold Safer walked in with a large platter of cheese and fruit. “Thank you for the applause,” he said, with a slight blush. “But this is just our regular weekly special—nothing overly fancy.”
“We’re applauding because Nancy solved the mystery of who’s been sabotaging this movie production,” Ned told Mr. Safer. “And the culprits have already been taken away by the police.”
“Wonderful,” Mr. Safer said. “And who were the creeps?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you,” I said. “One of them was Rita Clocker.”
“That nice woman I met in the mess tent?” Harold said with a surprised look. “My, you certainly can’t judge a book by its cover, can you?”
“No, you can’t,” I agreed, biting my lip. I hated to tell him the next part. “The second criminal was Herman Houseman.”
“No!” Harold said. “You can’t be serious! Not a wonderful actor like Mr. Houseman!”
He sank onto one of the benches in the houseboat set. His face looked as white as the doilies on his cheese-and-fruit platter.
“Well, we’re not only through shooting for the night,” Morris called to the cast and crew. “We might be through shooting period. Our understudy quit yesterday, but I thought we were safe. Without an Ethan Mahoney, the film is truly doomed.”
“Nancy Drew, Headhunter, reporting for duty,” I said. It sounded kind of silly, so I added a goofy smile.
“Okay, Nancy, you’re on,” Morris said. “You’ve been batting a thousand so far. Who’ve you got in mind?”
“You already thought of him once yourself,” I answered, nodding toward Harold Safer.
“Me?” Mr. Safer asked.
Tripp, Julie, Degas, and Pam closed in on Harold, circling him the way a gardener looks at a topiary. “We can definitely do this,” Tripp announced to Morris.
“We can make him look like Herman Houseman, we can make him look like Ethan Mahoney,” Degas stated. “Whatever you want.”
“Houseman completed only one of his scenes,” I reminded Morris. “It won’t cost that much to reshoot.”
“All right,” Morris finally said. “What have we got to lose? Go do your magic,” he told the wardrobe and makeup teams. “Make me a believer.”
The four artisans carted Mr. Safer across the set. Before they left the room, Morris called out one final question. “Tell me, Harold—have you ever acted? Do you know anything about the stage and movies?
The pink surged back into Harold’s white cheeks. “Do I?” he called out triumphantly. “Most definitely. Action!”
Lights, Camera . . . Page 11
