Kendall gave me a sidelong glance. “You’d better be telling the truth,” she said. I wasn’t about to give up on Kendall as a suspect, but clearly I was going to have to be more delicate in my approach.
“I was just telling Omar how perfect Zoë is for this part,” I commented. “She’s talented, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Kendall replied coldly. She gestured toward Sal, who had finally appeared with trays of steaming-hot cider and—with help from Nysa and Shea—was passing them around the set.
“Great. I bet that’s made from some supermarket powder that’s filled with sugar and preservatives,” Kendall complained. She cringed when Brian took one of the cups from Nysa’s tray.
“Omar, you can’t be serious. Brian’s not drinking that sludge, is he?”
“No, Kendall. Of course not!” Omar cried. He ran forward with his trusty thermos. Kendall stayed close behind him.
“Omar’s trying way too hard to impress Kendall,” Bess commented.
“Yeah. What if he’s helping Kendall sabotage the film?” George whispered.
“He has a motive,” I agreed. “Both of them do.”
Meanwhile, Nysa wasn’t even trying to hide her frustration with Sal. “Picture’s almost up, Sal. We’re about to roll and you’re in the frame!” she exclaimed.
Sal just kept passing out cider at the same slow pace. “I’m moving as fast as I can!” he fired back, handing off the last cups to two shivering camera assistants.
“Okay, let’s shoot this!” Alex called.
“I’m ready, boss!” Brian replied. Even though Omar was waiting with the green juice just a few feet away, Brian took several sips of hot cider instead. He passed his empty cup to Shea.
“And . . . action!”
“I—” Brian started making strange noises. Was he flubbing his lines? Everyone stared at the normally unflappable star. Then Brian started coughing and clutching at his throat.
“Oh no! He’s choking!” Kendall lurched forward.
“I know the Heimlich!” Spencer yelled, racing toward the set. Before he could grab the actor, though, Brian sprinted outside and threw himself against the railing in front of the house. Something flew out of his mouth and landed on the grass, right near where Cora stood.
As Brian caught his breath, Cora held up the offending object: a turquoise, heart-shaped pendant.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fixed Footage
SILENCE HUNG OVER THE SET while a medic examined Brian. Lali paced, her face completely white. Kendall stayed as close to Brian as possible, muttering words like “amateur” and “ridiculous” under her breath.
Zoë clasped the pendant in her fist, completely confounded.
“I’m so sorry, Brian,” she whispered. “I have no idea how it got—why anyone would—”
“Well, I had nothing to do with this, if that’s what you’re all thinking!” Sal shouted. The light illuminated the rim of his hat, giving his pale, wrinkled face a ghostly glow.
“Sal, calm down, okay?” Lali commanded.
Meanwhile, the implications of this newest prank targeting Brian swirled in my mind: first the bloody sweater, now the pendant. Maybe this wasn’t about shutting down The Hamilton Inn. Was someone trying to send Brian a message? But how would anyone have known that he would even drink the cider, and beyond that, which cup he would drink from?
“He’s fine,” the medic announced.
Brian leaped to his feet. “See, Alex? Good as new. Let’s keep going.”
Alex shot Lali a worried glance.
“I think Brian has dealt with enough today,” Kendall proclaimed. “I’ll drive him back to the hotel.”
“Kendall, stop. I’m feeling great!” Brian insisted. “Lali, Alex, let’s finish the day. I’m really okay.” He started doing jumping jacks right there to prove his point. “See?”
Brian’s antics made Alex smile. “I can’t say no to that,” he said.
“Alex, come see me after you finish this scene,” Lali ordered. “And you!” She summoned the medic. “Stay right here until they’re done, just in case. Where are the security guards when I need them? This shouldn’t have happened!”
Kendall pulled Lali aside. I inched closer so I could hear what they were saying.
“I think it’s time to call the police,” Lali said. “This is harassment, plain and simple.”
But Kendall shook her head. “Do you have any idea what will happen if it gets out that you’re having problems like this? I already don’t like those three reporters hanging around! The last thing we need is a rumor that The Hamilton Inn is turning into The Hamilton Circus!”
“But Brian could have been hurt!” Lali exclaimed.
“That’s better than this film getting hurt,” Kendall insisted. “If you call the police, I’m pulling Brian off the movie.”
“Brian doesn’t listen to you, as far as I can tell,” Lali sneered. “And don’t you dare tell me how to run my set!”
“Fine. Then consider what the investors will think if they hear about an investigation. Pranks are one thing; crimes are a whole new ball game, Lali,” Kendall fired back. “Plus, I think—and I’m sure the police will agree—that this pendant thing was an accident. Someone’s cheap necklace broke and fell into the cider while it was being passed around. You’ll just slow the whole shoot down for nothing. Trust me.”
Lali paused. “You have a point,” she mumbled.
Interesting, I thought. Kendall doesn’t want to get the police involved. She was looking more and more guilty by the minute.
Meanwhile, the incident had sent ripples through the crew. Their animated chatter permeated the inn’s entrance as they reset the scene.
“All the pranks have been related to food from craft services,” I heard Nysa say. “Cider, ketchup, chocolate sauce, the coffee machine . . .”
Lali heard her too and shook her head. “Nysa, that’s enough. I won’t let this set turn into a witch hunt. Everyone just needs to focus on work. I assure you, I’m taking this very seriously.”
I noticed that Sal’s expression was particularly stormy, and I figured that he had overheard Nysa’s accusation as well. He stormed off into the night. Although the cinema lights illuminated everything on and around the set, most of the lawn surrounding the inn was shrouded in darkness.
“All right, we’re going to do another take,” Nysa hollered.
“I’m going to follow Sal. I have to find out where he’s sneaking off to,” I whispered to Bess and George.
“Are you sure?” Bess asked worriedly. “Nancy, let us come with you!”
I appreciated her concern, but I knew that the more people, the more noise, and the more likely that Sal would sense something was off. “Thanks, but I have to do this on my own.”
I moved quickly until I was able to identify Sal’s silhouette. He’d avoided the well-lit path that led from the set back to base camp. Instead he walked straight into the woods. I fumbled forward, trying to follow the crunch of his footsteps in the leaves until, all of a sudden, the footsteps stopped.
I tiptoed forward cautiously, scanning the trees for movement, when . . .
“Gotcha!” Sal sprang out from behind a tree, and my heart leaped into my throat.
“Um, hey, Sal,” I said shakily, trying to gather my nerves.
Sal walked around me in a slow circle. “What are you doing out here?”
“I was . . . looking for the bathroom,” I lied.
Sal grunted in response. “I may not be Einstein, but I’m smart enough to know when I’m being followed,” he said. “Did Nysa put you up to this?”
“What are you talking about?”
Sal narrowed his eyes at me. “Trust me, young lady, you don’t want me as an enemy. I’d better not catch you snooping around me again.” He skulked away.
I felt my way out of the woods, trying to wrap my brain around Sal’s words. What did he mean by You don’t want me as an enemy? Was he some kind of hardened criminal?
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Nevertheless, he now knew that I had been following him. If he was our culprit, he was going to be even more careful from now on.
When I arrived back on set, the camera was already rolling. Kendall sat firmly planted in her chair, watching the actors closely. She appeared to have recovered from her temper tantrum for the time being. As soon as Nysa screamed, “Cut,” I found George, who was watching from video village.
“Where’s Bess?” I asked. I wanted to tell them both about my unsettling encounter with Sal.
“She’s making new friends.” George pointed to a spot on the lawn, where Bess was huddled with Cora and her camera. “Bess somehow convinced Cora to show her the footage she’s shot so far, so she could look for clues.”
“That’s our Bess,” I said, perking up. Bess has a knack for buddying up to even the prickliest of characters. “How’d she do it?”
“She probably told Cora she could be vice president of the Brian Newsome Fan Club!” George snorted.
“Okay, this is the martini shot, guys!” Nysa called out.
“The what?” I asked.
“That means it’s the last shot of the day,” Raina said. I hadn’t noticed her before, but there she was, planted in front of the monitors.
“Why don’t they just call it the last shot of the day, then?” George asked. “Why make it more complicated? You movie people are nuts.”
Raina shrugged. She looked exhausted.
A few moments later an excited Bess motioned to us. We did our best to remain nonchalant as we dashed over to the dark patch of grass where Bess and Cora sat.
“Guys, look what Cora found!” Bess exclaimed.
Cora held up her camera screen. “Last night after wrap, I was testing out settings for shooting in low light. This might explain how Zoë’s necklace disappeared,” she said quietly.
She pressed play on a video clip that showed the outside of Zoë’s trailer. On the screen, someone in a black cap tiptoed up the stairs and into the trailer, then emerged a few moments later. I squinted at the mysterious person; he or she was clearly taking great care not to be seen.
But Cora paused the video on a single frame in which she had managed to catch the person’s face. It was only for a split second, but that was all we needed to identify her.
Kendall.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Old Frenemies
I DROVE TO THE SET early the next morning, hoping to have a chance to speak to Alex about our suspects. I told George and Bess to come later; I didn’t want Alex to feel overwhelmed. My attempts at cornering Kendall the night before had failed. She had darted back to her hotel as soon as the shoot wrapped.
I parked my car and headed to base camp. Alex wasn’t in the catering tent, so I decided to check his trailer. When I got to the trailer area, there was nobody around, but I noticed that Zoë’s door was ajar.
“Zoë?” I called. No answer. I listened at the door; I could hear movement, but according to the call sheet, Zoë wasn’t due on set for another two hours.
I slowly pushed the door open all the way. There was someone inside, but it wasn’t Zoë.
It was Kendall—and she was placing something on Zoë’s dressing table.
“What are you doing in here, Kendall?”
“Hey, Nancy,” she said calmly, meeting my eyes in the dressing table’s mirror. “Lali finally admitted that you’re some kind of teen detective after I asked her to kick the ‘journalists’ off the set. Well, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but there’s no mystery here.”
She held up the object in her hand—a thick manila envelope with Zoë’s name written on it.
“What’s that?” I asked, but Kendall just smiled. She handed me the envelope, and I opened it to find . . .
“Contracts?”
Kendall nodded. “Signed contracts. I had to be a little sneaky about picking them up yesterday because I don’t want Brian to know that I’m signing Zoë as a new client. He can be a little territorial sometimes.”
So that explains Cora’s video, I thought.
“But the ketchup in your car . . . ,” I began, and Kendall laughed again.
“You are a good detective,” she replied, not missing a beat. “I stopped at the store, thinking I could cover up the terrible-tasting hotel food with some decent condiments.”
Kendall backed out of Zoë’s trailer and continued her explanation outside. I noticed her luggage waiting nearby.
“Are you leaving?” I asked, coming down the steps to stand next to her.
“Yeah. I have to get back to Los Angeles. My flight leaves in a few hours, but first I wanted to return copies of the contracts to Zoë,” she replied. “Although I’m still worried about what’s been happening here—all the pranks and stuff,” she added.
“I’m doing my best to figure out what is going on,” I said.
“Well, you can cross me off the suspect list,” she said jokingly. Then her tone grew serious. “Look, Nancy. I know I didn’t say the nicest things about Alex and the film, but working in Hollywood can make you cynical,” she confessed.
“So I’ve heard,” I offered.
She threw me a wry smile. “But from what I’ve seen, Alex has the potential to be a solid director. The Hamilton Inn could be a great opportunity for the world to see what a talented actor Brian is.”
“Better than The Blue Ranger, even?” I asked.
Kendall shook her head sadly. “I’m not sure what he told you, but Brian didn’t get that part. He was so close, but the director didn’t think he was right for it. And he was completely devastated. At first I thought he took the role in The Hamilton Inn just to take his mind off it. But I guess that sometimes things just work out for the best.”
“So he’s just telling everyone he turned it down,” I clarified.
Kendall nodded. “It’s harmless, really,” she said. “I guess it makes him feel better.”
“I noticed him carrying around a Blue Ranger comic book,” I recalled.
Kendall paused. “Well, The Blue Ranger is scheduled to start shooting in four weeks. I’ve heard rumors that the actor they cast as the lead is having second thoughts, but it doesn’t matter. For Brian, The Blue Ranger door is closed. That’s why it’s better for him to be here, focusing on what’s happening next instead of feeling bad about the past.”
Nobody would ever know that Brian is feeling bad, I thought. He must be acting all the time!
“I should get going,” Kendall said. “It was nice to meet you, Nancy. Keep an eye on my clients, will you?”
“I’ll try,” I replied.
George and Bess arrived not too long after she left.
“Well, I for one am glad to know that Brian’s agent isn’t trying to ruin his movie,” Bess said after I’d filled them in. “Aren’t you, Nancy?”
“Of course,” I replied, “but that means that our suspect is still at large.”
“Speaking of which, I’m dying to know where Sal went last night,” George remarked. I’d told them about my terse exchange with Sal on our drive home.
“You and me both,” I said.
Since it was our second day shooting at the Hamilton Inn location, it took the crew less time to prepare for the first shot. All the trailers had remained in the clearing overnight (with ample around-the-clock security), and the inn itself was already dressed and decorated.
“What are they filming today?” George asked, examining my call sheet. “Ooh!” Her eyes lit up. “The haunted house scenes! Lots of creaks and ghosts!”
“That would explain the smoke machine,” I replied, pointing at the dense fog pouring out of a window. It made the surrounding woods seem especially eerie.
I finally spotted Alex darting around, talking animatedly to the production designer, the costume designer, and the cinematographer. Even though I desperately wanted to go over our latest findings, I was happy to see him in his element.
“When Alex worked for my dad,” I recalled, “he loved talking about his fav
orite ghost stories. I can see why he’s so excited today.”
“Excited . . . and stressed,” Lali said, coming up behind us. “He knows you want to talk to him, but he just has no time this morning.”
“Okay. Well, in the meantime, did you find out anything about Ronan Beale?” I asked.
“Oh, yes! I forgot to respond to your text message last night. Ronan’s agent is no longer representing him, and apparently he’s changed his cell phone number. She has no idea how to reach him.”
“You don’t change your cell phone number unless you’re trying to avoid someone,” George said.
“Lali, when was the last time Alex and Ronan were in touch?” I asked.
Lali shrugged. “I don’t think they’ve been in contact since Ronan dropped the lawsuit, but I could be wrong.”
“What made Ronan drop the lawsuit?”
“I’ve told you all I know, Nancy,” Lali said.
“I really need face time with Alex so I can ask him about this . . . for the article, of course,” I quickly added as I noticed Spencer walking by. He and two other electricians positioned heavy cables along the ground and covered them with leaves. The cables ran into the woods, where they powered a pair of lights so heavy it took three people to lift each one. As soon as Spencer saw the powerful lights flare to life, he doubled back to speak with Lali.
“I need to talk to you about security again,” he complained. “I’m still missing my wire cutters, and now my needle-nose pliers are gone, as well as some spools of wire. These are small tools, but they add up.”
“All right,” she said calmly, “walk with me. Nancy, we’ll talk later, okay?”
I nodded, left with no choice but to swallow my questions for now. Investigating a film shoot certainly presented a whole new level of challenges I wasn’t used to.
Soon after Lali left, Cora appeared, camera in hand. She had a grin on her face instead of her usual apathetic expression.
“Alex can’t yell at me for being in the way this time!” she announced. “I borrowed a zoom lens from a friend! See?” She excitedly showed us her new toy. “It’s like spy equipment. I can get close-ups without having to be right on set! I’m going to use it to catch that evil snob Kendall in the act!”
A Script for Danger Page 6
