10 A Script for Danger (2 page)

Bess and George smirked. It's true that I have a knack for sleuthing. My friends like to tease me about it sometimes, but when I'm working on a case, they're always right by my side. Together we've solved more than a few big mysteries.

“Oh! There he is!” Bess's excited shriek was nearly drowned out by a chorus of others. A black town car pulled up next to one of the trailers, and Brian Newsome stepped out. I could see why he was so popular. His dark-brown hair waved perfectly over his strong, square forehead. His sharp blue eyes had a friendly glint as he smiled, revealing a row of gleaming white teeth. Ned ducked in front of the crowd to get photographs.

Bess jumped up and down, practically hyperventilating. “I can't believe Brian Newsome is in River Heights right now!” she squealed. “I have to get his autograph and a picture of him and a handshake!” She hurried off behind Ned.

“We might need a medic for that one,” I joked to George, who shook her head.

“He's just a
person
,” she repeated, “although, I guess he is cute in a famous-movie-star-kind of way.”

Moments later a blue sedan pulled into the parking lot and Alex, the director, got out of the passenger seat. He looked exactly as I remembered him: tall and skinny, with hazel eyes and stick-straight brown hair that seemed to be growing in every which way. He was wearing a plaid shirt, dark jeans, and tennis shoes. The driver of the car, a caramel-haired, big-eyed woman in her thirties, walked beside Alex. She was wearing black jeans, a black T-shirt, and black sneakers, and she had a serious expression on her face. Finally a tiny, stunning young woman emerged from the backseat. She had the longest, curliest dark hair I'd ever seen, with olive skin and deep dimples in her cheeks. She was dressed in a ruffled blouse with jeans, accessorized with worn cowboy boots and a tangle of silver necklaces. Nobody paid much attention to this trio, however. All eyes were on Brian as he happily posed for photos with excited fans.

Even Mayor Scarlett was among the people who had collected around the television star. “It is such an honor to have an actor of your caliber in our small town,” she gushed.

Brian looked at her like it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him.

“It's an honor to be here, Mayor Scarlett. When I read Alex's script, I knew I had to be a part of it. I even turned down the lead role in the
Blue Ranger
film because their shooting schedules overlapped.”

I raised my eyebrows at George, who, as usual, was glued to her smartphone. “What
Blue Ranger
film?” I whispered. She frantically typed on her touchscreen.

“A huge superhero movie that's going to start filming in a month,” she replied after a few seconds. “It's based on a comic book, and apparently the budget is”—George almost choked on the words—“two hundred million!”

Brian stood before his adoring crowd and announced, “Thank you all so much for coming. I have to step into my trailer for a moment, but I hope to have
the chance to meet each of you in the coming days.” He walked toward the trailer labeled DYLAN before anyone, including Bess, could get an autograph. She came back to stand with us, dejected.

“I was so close!” she cried.

“Don't worry,” I comforted her. “I'm sure Alex can make it happen.”

Right at that moment, Alex noticed us and started waving. “Nancy! Hey, thanks for coming.” He ran over and grabbed my hand excitedly.

“Hi, Alex,” I replied, shaking firmly. “These are my friends Bess and George, and my boyfriend, Ned, is over there taking photos. My dad really wanted to be here, but he got stuck in a deposition this morning.”

“Oh, that's fine. I know how it gets with Carson.” Alex winked. “Anyway, stick around and I'll introduce you to Brian later; he's really nice.”

The woman in black pulled him away toward a podium. I caught Bess's eye, which looked like it was about to pop out of its socket at the mention of having an actual conversation with Brian.

Meanwhile, Cora had repositioned herself and was standing next to me again, fiddling with her camera.

“Who's that?” I asked, gesturing toward the woman in black. Cora glanced up. “Oh, that's Lali. She's the producer.”

George's ears perked up. “I've always wondered what a movie producer actually
does
.”

“Lali does everything,” Cora replied. “She gave Alex notes on his script, made the budget, found the investors, and negotiated all the contracts. It's her job to make the director's vision a reality from beginning to end.”

George digested this information and asked, “So Alex decides how he wants the movie to look and feel and Lali makes it happen?”

Cora nodded. “Within reason, of course. But Lali's been doing this for years. Alex is lucky to have someone like her on his first film. You know, because he's still so green.” She made a face and ambled away.

After she had gone, George said, “The only person who seems green to me is Cora. Green with envy.”

Bess nodded. “You might be right about her, Nancy.”

A loud whistle silenced everyone, and a high-pitched female voice rose from the front of the crowd. “Hi, everybody!” An Indian girl in skinny jeans with her dark hair piled on top of her head stood on a black wooden box, brandishing a bullhorn. She was wearing a plain T-shirt and cargo pants, with a headset strapped on her head.

“I'm Nysa, the first assistant director for
The Hamilton Inn
,” she boomed. “We're going to arrange a formal photo for the
Bugle
, so everyone please move to one side, okay?”

Nysa walked over to the food table, where a grizzly-looking man in his sixties was refilling the coffee machine, replenishing the pastries, and laying out an assortment of other snacks. He was dressed in a khaki vest and sun hat that made him look like he was about to go fishing.

“Sal, I'm going to need you to move craft services over to the other side of the lot,” Nysa instructed.

“Are you kidding me, Nysa? This is where you told
me to put it. You want it moved, you move it!” Sal's loud voice and harsh tone caught the attention of several bystanders.

“Why does it always have to be like this with you, Sal?” Nysa sighed, and a young man in his twenties came to help her move the table. I noticed that the man—probably an assistant—was formally dressed in a pressed white shirt and khakis, which made him stand out from the T-shirt-and-jeans-clad members of the crew.

“Be careful!” Sal groaned. “You better not break anything!”

“Wow. Someone sure woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Bess observed as Sal threw up his hands and marched away angrily, disappearing somewhere behind the trailers.

Alex stood in front of the crowd and spoke into a microphone. “Our producer, Lali, and I would like to thank the citizens of River Heights who have been so supportive of
The Hamilton Inn
. We're pretty stoked to be working in my hometown.”

Everyone cheered. Lali took the microphone from
him to say, “I'd especially like to thank Mayor Scarlett for allowing us to film here.” The mayor beamed as she stepped forward and stood next to Alex.

I suddenly heard sharp tones and a scuffle behind where we were standing, right in front of the trailer housing the bathrooms.

“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.

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.”