A Script for Danger

by Carolyn Keene

  “I don’t have time for that right now!” I turned around to see Brian speaking sharply to the well-dressed man who’d helped move Sal’s table. George noticed too and threw me a quizzical look. Brian had lowered his voice to an angry grumble, so it was impossible to hear what he was saying, but his body language indicated that they were still arguing.

  Meanwhile, Alex invited the curly-haired actress to stand next to him. “This is Zoë French, the costar of The Hamilton Inn,” he said proudly. “She’s going to be a big deal one day, so get a picture now before she’s on every magazine cover!”

  Zoë stood with poise. “Thanks, Alex,” she said. “I’m really proud to be a part of this.”

  Alex continued, “And finally, the star of our film. You all know him from Hospital Tales . . . Brian Newsome! Where are you, Brian?” Alex searched for his lead actor, who finally emerged from the back of the crowd, beaming. Brian joined the rest of the crew and Mayor Scarlett as they posed for the cameras.

  Just as the camera flashes started to go off, a hissing noise echoed throughout the parking lot. It seemed to be coming from behind a truck that was parked right next to Alex, the mayor, and the actors.

  Before anyone could react, a deafening explosion ripped through the air.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Snap, Crackle, Pop!

  SCREAMS COULD BE HEARD ABOVE the crackling and popping noises. Brian lunged and draped his arms over Zoë and Lali, pulling them down protectively.

  “Everyone get down!” someone shouted.

  Bess, George, and I huddled on the cement.

  As soon as the noises stopped and we shakily stood up, I saw Lali spring to her feet. A dark-haired man in a black fleece vest and a tool belt jogged toward the truck where the sounds had come from.

  “Spencer, be careful!” Lali called after him.

  I looked around at the shocked faces of the crowd. Ned rushed over to us.

  “Are you guys okay?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “That was really scary,” Bess whispered, shivering.

  “I know,” I replied. Even though my years of sleuthing have put me in more than a few dangerous situations, it never gets any easier.

  “Everyone all right over here?” Nysa was moving through the crowd.

  “Yeah, we’re fine,” I told her. “Did anyone get hurt?” As I brushed myself off, I noticed that the crowd was moving closer to the site of the explosion, just as curious as I was.

  Nysa shook her head. “I don’t think so, thankfully. I’m sure everything’s fine, but the gaffer, Spencer—that’s a fancy word for an electrician on a film set—went with Lali to check it out. It’s safer for all of us to stay put until we know what’s going on,” she said. I could tell from her voice that she was more rattled than she was letting on.

  Moments later, Spencer (the man in the fleece) emerged from behind the truck holding an unplugged coffee machine, which was covered in the burnt remains of . . .

  “Fireworks,” he announced.

  “Someone put fireworks in the coffee machine,” Lali called out matter-of-factly, walking up behind him.

  Meanwhile, Brian seemed especially concerned about the people around him, making sure Zoë’s shirt hadn’t been ruined and calming down Mayor Scarlett. Cora stood among the bystanders, capturing the whole scene on camera.

  “I thought famous actors were supposed to be self-centered and erratic,” George mused.

  Bess watched Brian with admiration in her eyes. “Not Brian. He has a reputation for being really generous. He volunteers at a soup kitchen and his dog is a rescue!”

  I was barely listening as Bess gushed. Now that I knew everyone was safe, the wheels in my head began to turn. “Why on earth would someone put fireworks in a coffee machine?” I wondered out loud.

  “It’s a mystery to me,” George commented casually—but we locked eyes when she said the word “mystery.” Was this a real-life case of sabotage on the set of Alex’s film? I wanted to banish the thought from my mind, but my detective instincts had already started to kick in. After cracking so many cases, I’ve learned to listen to my gut.

  Nearby, I heard a voice come over Nysa’s walkie-talkie. “Does anyone know where Sal is?”

  Nysa pressed a button to respond. “I haven’t seen him since we moved his table. You don’t think he did this, do you?”

  I couldn’t help offering some insight. I tapped Nysa on the shoulder. “You know, Cora was filming the whole time.” I pointed at Alex’s sister. “Maybe she has some footage of the explosion?”

  Nysa pressed her glittery pink lips together thoughtfully. “Great idea,” she said. “I’m Nysa, by the way. I’m the first assistant director, in case you didn’t hear me screaming earlier.”

  “I’m Nancy Drew, and these are my friends Bess, George, and Ned. I’m an old friend of Alex’s.”

  Nysa nodded gratefully before shoving her way through the crowd to where Cora was filming. “Thanks again, Nancy!” she called over her shoulder.

  Meanwhile, Alex took the podium again. “I’d like to apologize for the shock, everyone. It appears that this was just a harmless prank.”

  Most of the crowd, dazed by all the chaos, started to leave.

  “Thank you again for supporting our film,” Alex proclaimed sincerely. “Maybe the ghosts of the Hamilton Inn are trying to tell us to get to work!” He laughed weakly at his own joke, but his somber expression revealed how much the incident had upset him.

  As the crowd trickled out of the parking lot, Ned packed up his camera. “I have to get back to the office and turn in these photos, Nance. They asked me to shoot a piece on the Fourth of July carnival next.” The annual Fourth of July carnival was one of River Heights’ biggest events. He kissed me on the cheek. “I would offer you a ride, but I know you’d never abandon a crime scene.”

  I half smiled at how well Ned knew me. “I’m just worried about Alex,” I replied.

  “Let me know how it goes. I’ll call you tonight.” Ned patted my shoulder affectionately before darting off.

  “Alex does look overwhelmed,” Bess observed. “Should we go see if he needs any help?”

  I was thinking the same thing. As Bess, George, and I made our way over to him, I heard Mayor Scarlett speaking to someone walking alongside her. I only caught the tail end of their conversation.

  “. . . it worries me. Maybe Roberta Ely was right,” the mayor muttered.

  Before I could wonder who that was, Lali’s voice boomed out, “Come on, people! Time costs money, and we don’t have much of either!”

  The crew was like a machine with hundreds of different moving parts. Each person seemed to know exactly what his or her job entailed and how it fit into the bigger picture. Right now, people were hustling to set up lights around the train station’s entryway. A circle of crew members surrounded Alex, firing questions at him from every direction:

  “The darker jeans don’t fit her. How about the blue leggings instead?”

  “I don’t know if that angle is going to look the way it does in the storyboards. What do you think about changing the lens?”

  “Do we really need two close-ups?”

  As soon as he saw us approaching, though, Alex broke apart from the group.

  “Nancy! I was just about to call you to make sure you didn’t leave,” he said breathlessly. He motioned for us to join him a few feet away from the train station.

  “I can’t believe that fireworks stunt,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Did people seem really freaked out?”

  “It was startling,” I said, choosing my words carefully so as not to upset him even more, “but everyone calmed down once it became clear that nobody was hurt.”

  Just then Lali came over and glanced at Bess, George, and me. “Alex, can we talk?”

  “Sure. Lali, this is Nancy. She’s Carson Drew’s daughter, you know, my old boss? And these are her friends George and Bess.”

  Lali smiled stiffly, her mind clearly on other
things. “Nice to meet you. Alex, I need to talk to you about what just happened.”

  “Any idea who did it?” he asked.

  Lali shifted her eyes. “Well, Sal didn’t seem to be around when the firecrackers went off, so he has no clue as to who might have been tampering with the machine.”

  “I noticed that there was some friction between Sal and Nysa,” George observed. “Maybe Sal planted the firecrackers to mess with her?”

  Lali seemed surprised that we knew so much.

  “There’s no way,” she said. “I’ve worked with Sal many times, and he can be difficult, but he would never do something like this. He’s a professional.”

  “Are you sure, Lali? He’s pretty grumpy,” Alex said, suspicion clouding his face.

  I could tell that Lali didn’t like being challenged, so I jumped in. “We also noticed Brian having an argument with a younger guy, the nicely dressed one. . . .”

  Lali’s phone started beeping, and she looked down, distracted.

  “Oh, that’s Omar, Brian’s assistant,” Alex explained. “The most devoted assistant in the world. Don’t worry; it wasn’t him. He would rather die than do anything to mess with Brian’s career.” Alex rolled his eyes and directed my gaze to Brian’s trailer. Omar was juggling a thermos, a coffee mug, and a small grocery bag, trying not to spill anything on his crisp shirt before reaching his boss’s door.

  Just then Spencer walked by, complaining about a lost pair of wire cutters. “Lali, I’m pretty sure someone was messing around in our truck.”

  Lali threw up her hands. “We’ll put another security guard down there, okay?”

  As soon as Spencer was gone, Lali turned to Alex and said, “Maybe we should call the police. We need the crew—and our prankster—to know that we are taking this seriously.”

  Alex considered this. “I think we should hold off,” he replied. “It was probably just some local kids trying to get Brian’s attention. We don’t want police interrogating the crew, you know? It’ll make people uncomfortable.”

  “I don’t know . . .” Lali furrowed her brow.

  “What do you think, Nancy?” Alex asked, turning to me. “Is someone trying to hurt us?”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “The firecrackers were clearly intended to make a statement. Even the people standing closest to the craft service table didn’t get hurt. Did you see the coffee machine? The lid was shut tight.”

  “She has a point, Lali,” Alex agreed.

  “Okay, okay,” Lali replied, “we’ll hold off on the police for now.”

  I could tell she was still uncertain, but they didn’t have much time to discuss it any further because Nysa trotted over to say, “Okay, Alex, we’re ready to block the scene now.”

  Alex invited us to stick around and watch the first shot, which of course drew squeals of excitement from Bess.

  As we followed him toward the train station, Nysa caught up to me.

  “Cora won’t let anyone see her footage,” she said, “but she says that she was on the other side of the parking lot the whole time, so all she got was the crowd’s reaction. Any other ideas?”

  “Nope, haven’t heard much,” I told her, smiling weakly. I didn’t want to share too much with Nysa at this point; it was too early to rule anyone out as a suspect.

  “Well, let me know if you think of anything, okay?” she said.

  After she had walked away, I turned to my friends. “Don’t you think it’s strange that Cora won’t let anyone look at her footage?” I asked.

  “What are you saying? You think she did it, Nancy?” George asked.

  “Well, she certainly has a motive—jealousy—and she had plenty of opportunities to put the fireworks in the coffee machine.” I chewed my lip.

  “No way,” Bess insisted. “Siblings may fight, but they don’t try to scare each other half to death! Plus, plenty of people could have planted those fireworks.”

  “I suppose so,” I mused. “Cora was one of the few people on the crew who had a specific task during the reception. She wouldn’t have had time to plant the fireworks, light them, and then make it all the way to the podium to get the photo op.”

  “The suspect could have taken advantage of the fact that most of the crowd was focused on Brian,” George added. “By the way, Bess, I think your shrieking damaged my hearing permanently.”

  Bess didn’t have a chance to come back with a witty retort, because another loud scream reverberated throughout the parking lot.

  It soon became clear that the sound had come from the costume trailer. As we gathered around, a petite, dark-skinned girl with long braids emerged holding a light green sweater covered in what looked like . . .

  “Blood!” Bess gasped.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Going Undercover

  THE GIRL WITH THE BRAIDS seemed to be hyperventilating as Brian emerged from the trailer behind her. I noticed Cora’s camera bouncing around nearby. She sure is diligent, I thought.

  “At the rate things are going, Cora’s behind-the-scenes documentary is going to be a horror film,” George murmured, raising her eyebrows.

  Brian took the sweater and examined the thick red liquid smeared all over it. “Raina”—he nodded toward the girl with the braids—“was just giving me my costume for the first scene; this is how we found it,” he explained. I could tell he was trying to look brave. “There’s something dripping from the ceiling of the trailer.”

  Lali, who had run over as soon as she heard the scream, crossed her arms sternly over her chest. “This is ridiculous. Let me get someone to climb up and check—”

  Before she could even finish speaking, Brian had managed to get a foothold in the trailer’s tiny window and hoist himself onto the roof.

  “Brian, no! That’s way too risky!” Once Lali realized she couldn’t stop him, she grumbled under her breath, “If something happens to him . . .” She cringed as the star crept across the top of the trailer.

  “It’s fine!” Brian shouted. “Just ketchup.” He leaned down to sniff the surface below his feet and added, “Mixed with chocolate syrup?”

  The crowd emitted a collective sigh of relief. By the time Brian climbed down, Spencer was inside the trailer, examining a hole in the ceiling. He walked back out, scratching his head.

  “It looks like someone ripped a hole up there and poured that stuff down onto Brian’s costume, which was on a hanger right below it,” Spencer said. “Another prank.”

  Raina still looked terrified. “Okay. Sorry for all the commotion. I think I have a backup for him.”

  Brian followed her back into the trailer, while Nysa addressed the rest of the observers. “Okay, everyone, we’re already running behind schedule . . . so let’s move it!” Everyone quickly went to work, but Alex motioned for George, Bess, and me to come over.

  “Maybe I’ve seen too many movies,” he muttered, “but I can’t help thinking that someone is trying to sabotage this one.”

  “It sure looks that way,” I replied. “Can you think of anyone who would want to stop the film from happening?”

  Alex laughed wryly. “The film business is tough as nails. It’s hard for me to think of someone who wouldn’t want to see this project fall apart.”

  Lali strode across the parking lot toward us, her face serious. “Maybe we were wrong not to call the police, Alex,” she said. “This is getting creepy.”

  “No,” Alex replied firmly. “The police will only slow down filming by questioning everyone. Plus, getting them involved will draw unwanted attention from the press. That’s probably what the saboteur wants. We have to stay one step ahead of him . . . or her.”

  “Okay, so what do you propose?” Lali asked.

  Alex pointed to me. “I think Nancy should stick around and try to figure out what is going on.”

  Lali’s confused expression prompted him to continue. “I trust her. Mysteries are her specialty.”

  “I know it may sound strange,” I offered, “but I’ve actuall
y been solving cases here in River Heights for years.”

  “Fine,” Lali said. “But no one can find out what you’re doing here.”

  Alex nodded. “Yes. You can go undercover.” He paused. “How about the three of you are journalists researching an article about the first movie to be filmed in River Heights.” I noticed that his eyes sparkled whenever he was making up a story, no matter how small. “What do you think? You can use your real names, too. The whole crew is from out of town, so nobody knows who you are.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. My friends and I had gone undercover on plenty of cases before.

  “Great. Let us know what you find out,” Lali replied dismissively. She seemed to be going along with the plan mostly to keep Alex happy.

  She then grabbed Alex’s shoulders firmly but affectionately. “Now we really have to get rolling. Come on, Alex. Are you psyched?”

  Alex rubbed his hands together. “It’s time to make a movie!” he exclaimed as he walked off toward Brian’s trailer.

  Meanwhile, Bess, George, and I hovered near the costume trailer. George’s fingers flew across her smartphone as she typed The Hamilton Inn into a search engine.

  “Alex wasn’t kidding about people wanting him to fail,” George said. “Look at the comments on this article.”

  She held out her phone so Bess and I could see what she was looking at: an article on a Hollywood industry website announcing the start of production on The Hamilton Inn. While a few of the comments were supportive, several were downright nasty: “I’ve never heard of this Burgess guy and this idea sounds dumb. Why would anyone finance this?” and “Brian Newsome is a no-talent jerk. Alex Burgess clearly doesn’t know what he is doing.”

  “They’re all saying horrible things about people they don’t know,” Bess noted grimly.

  “Because they can do it anonymously,” I said, handing George’s phone back to her.

  “Do you think these comments give us a clue about the suspect?” Bess asked.

  George shook her head. “I doubt it. These trolls mostly just like tearing people down with words. I can’t imagine one of them going out of his or her way to physically sabotage a movie shoot.”