10 A Script for Danger (6 page)

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING I
drove bess and George to the day's first location: the actual Hamilton Inn. We spent the entire car ride going over the events of day one.

The night before, Lali had assured the cast and crew that the threatening note was just another prank, but I could hear the worry starting to seep into her voice. She had already called me that morning to find out if I had any thoughts on a culprit. I had to say no, but I assured her that we were working on leads.

“Shea says the new call sheets were left unattended
in the production trailer for about thirty minutes while he was out looking for the stapler and doing various errands. Someone must have gone inside and left the note during that time,” I told my friends.

“But there's no way of knowing if the note was on the call sheet before Cora went inside?” Bess queried.

“Cora says she didn't see the note, but she claims she was only in the production trailer for a second, so it's possible she didn't notice,” I responded. “Shea found the note about five minutes after Cora left the trailer.”

George raised an eyebrow. “This looks bad for Cora,” she said.

“She's high on our suspect list,” I replied, “but Sal was also around. And Omar was acting strange too, actually. He didn't want Shea to pass out the call sheets. Maybe he was trying to keep Shea from going inside the trailer.”

“Could he have written the note?” Bess asked.

“If he did,” I pondered, “he didn't want anyone to find it, which doesn't make any sense at all.”

Following handwritten signs that said
CREW PARKING
,
I drove onto an unpaved road that snaked into the woods. I could feel my car bumping over the sticks and stones as I pulled into a makeshift parking lot set up in a dusty clearing. All the trucks and trailers were parked on the other end of the clearing, along with the craft service tent and its requisite coolers, tables, and chairs. Bess, George, and I got out of my car and followed more signs with arrows pointing toward SET, which led us along a narrow path shrouded by pine trees.

“Whoa,” Bess said breathlessly, stopping in her tracks. We had emerged from the dense forest to find ourselves standing in front of the Hamilton Inn, as the creaky, fading sign announced. The “inn” was actually a large, two-story Victorian home with a wide porch, two balconies, and miniature roof spires. Members of the art department ran in and out placing props while electricians rigged lights.

“Pretty amazing, isn't it?” Alex appeared next to us, looking proud. Cora stood next to him.

“The interior looks a little too much like it came
from one of the Harry Potter movies, if you ask me,” she scoffed.

Alex frowned at his sister. “I
didn't
ask you.”

Cora stormed off in a huff.

George whispered in my ear, “She's not helping her case with that attitude!”

“What was that, George?” Alex inquired.

“Nothing,” I said quickly.

“Nancy, I'm starting to get really freaked out that someone's out to sabotage this film,” Alex confessed. “It's hard for me to focus when I know that something could go wrong at any moment. Please tell me you've uncovered something!”

“Not quite yet, but it's going really well. Our Nancy always nabs the culprit,” Bess proclaimed. “With help from her brilliant friends, of course.”

Alex smiled gratefully. “I'll take your word on that.”

Nysa sauntered over. “Good morning, all!” she announced cheerily. “Today is going to be a fantastic day!”

Alex appeared amused. “Oh? How do you know?”

“I found the missing stapler!” She held up the piece
of office equipment as if it were a trophy. Sensing our lack of enthusiasm, Nysa shrugged. “We have to find joy in the little things, right?”

“Absolutely!” I laughed. “Where was it?”

“In one of the soda coolers, of all places,” Nysa replied. “Sal is such a liar sometimes!”

After a brief pause, Nysa turned to Alex. “Oh, Brian is in hair and makeup if you want to meet with him now.”

“Yeah, cool. See you later, Nancy, girls,” he said.

“Why would Sal lie about returning the stapler?” I asked.

“Because he's mean,” Bess sniffed.

A loud screeching noise cut through our conversation. I turned to see a large black SUV trying to park on the lawn right in front of the Hamilton Inn sign.

Nysa began waving her arms and shouted, “You can't park here!”

The car's tinted window rolled down and a woman's high-pitched voice screeched from within. “Oh, my gosh. I'm
so sorry
. I got incredibly, totally lost!” I
glimpsed a shiny golden ponytail and mirrored aviator sunglasses. “Would you mind moving my car to the parking lot?”

Nysa looked taken aback by the request. “Excuse me?”

The blond woman, who looked positively tiny in such a huge vehicle, rolled down her window a little farther and removed her sunglasses. Her face was pristinely made up. “I'm Kendall. Kendall C. Rose,” she announced, but Nysa still looked confused. “Brian's agent? I thought my assistant called to tell you I was coming by today.”

Kendall looked genuinely upset that Nysa didn't know who she was.

“I didn't get the message.” Nysa shrugged. “But no harm. It's nice to meet you. The parking lot is over that way.”

“I'm just really bad with directions—like, the
worst
!” Kendall exclaimed. “I'd love it if someone could come with me and show me the way, at least.”

I jumped into action. “I'll do it!”

Nysa looked relieved. “Thank you. Kendall, Nancy will take you to the parking lot and walk you back to set.”

Kendall flashed her sunny smile in Nysa's direction once more. “Thank you
so
much. That is
so
helpful.”

“It's a long shot, but maybe she'll know if someone else has it out for the movie,” I whispered to my friends as I trotted over to the SUV.

Once inside, I noticed that Kendall's car was sleek and modern: buttery leather seats, state-of-the-art GPS, the works.

“Nice car,” I remarked.

Kendall rolled her eyes. “Omi
god
, are you serious? It was the only one left in the rental place, and it
totally
smells like someone's wet dog in here. Also, what is this color, right? It looks like vomit.”

I pointed her in the direction of the parking lot, and she started driving. “So, you're Brian's agent?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Kendall replied. “Isn't he great? This Alan Burgess guy is so lucky. You know, I warned Brian about how risky it is for an A-list actor to work with
a first-time director. But when he wants to do something, there's no stopping him.”

“You mean Alex,” I offered. “Turn left here.”

“Who?” She yanked her steering wheel sideways, coming jerkily to a stop and putting the car in park.

“Never mind,” I said. “So you didn't want Brian to work on this film?”

Kendall opened her door and stepped out of the car. “Oh, I didn't mean it like
that
. It's just—Brian's a star. He can get bigger projects. But I get it, I mean, the whole
Blue Ranger
thing, that was just so . . .”

Before Kendall could finish her sentence, one of her stiletto heels sank right into the mud. “Eek!” she shrieked.

“So . . . what?” I pressed.

But Kendall was preoccupied. “What a mess. Doll, hand me that box on the backseat, would you?”

I had to twist myself into the tiny backseat to reach the cardboard shoe box. On the floor of the car, I noticed a plastic bag with bottles of ketchup and mustard peeking out of the top.

I made sure not to linger for fear of arousing suspicion and quickly handed Kendall the shoe box, which contained a pair of brand-new white tennis shoes.

“When did you get into town, Kendall?” I asked. She changed into the sneakers and tossed her stilettos haphazardly into the backseat, narrowly missing my cheek.

“Oh, two days ago.” She grimaced. “I couldn't come to the shoot yesterday because I've had
so
much work to do. I've just been on my phone constantly, trapped in some horrible two-star hotel downtown eating the
worst
food I've ever had.”

“So the producers
of The Blue Ranger
must have been really upset when Brian—” I began, when Kendall's phone rang.

“Oh hello, how
are
you?” she shrieked into the phone, pressing her finger to her lips to quiet me. Kendall stayed several feet behind me as I walked her to the set, but even at her lowest volume, I could hear every word. Whoever was on the other end of her call was getting an earful of complaints about River Heights, the
lack of good restaurants and Pilates studios, and speculation about what could have possibly possessed Brian to act in such an insignificant film because, according to Kendall, “there's nothing in it for him.”

She was still on the phone when we got to Brian's trailer. She barged inside, not bothering to knock. As soon as the door closed behind her, I ran over to Bess and George, who were lingering outside the hair and makeup trailer, I noticed that the trailer was slightly open and inside Cora was filming Zoë getting her hair done.

“Who. Was. That?” George asked, motioning toward Brian's trailer.

“That,” I replied, “is Kendall, Brian's agent from Los Angeles and our newest suspect.” I recounted everything I'd overheard Kendall say on the phone and shared the additional clue of the ketchup in her backseat.

“But . . . why?” Bess asked, dumbfounded. “If she's Brian's agent, isn't she supposed to be
helping
him?” Bess always wanted to believe the best about everyone,
which was part of what made her such a good friend.

I shrugged. “She might think she
is
helping him. She claims he should be in bigger movies, like
The Blue Ranger
, but Brian clearly doesn't agree.”

“She'd also be helping herself,” George offered. “As Brian's agent, Kendall gets a percentage of his salary, right? If she were to shut down
The Hamilton Inn
, Brian would be free to take on a better-paying role and Kendall would make more money too.”

Bess crinkled her nose in disgust. “That does make sense.
And
it would explain why she would be driving around with ketchup in her rental car.”

George grabbed her phone and started typing. “Look at this,” she said, turning the screen toward us. “Kendall was actually the
assistant
to Brian's main agent and was only promoted a few weeks ago. Brian is her one client!”

“That means that she's dependent on Brian's salary. Definitely a motive,” I remarked. “Kendall didn't show up on the first day, even though she was already in town. I wonder if there's some way she could have put
the firecrackers in the coffee machine and cut the hole in the wardrobe trailer.”

“What about the call sheet?” Bess asked. “I can't imagine her being that close to Brian and Zoë's trailers without someone recognizing her.”

“Or hearing her,” I added. “I'll stay close to her and see if I can find out anything else.”

“We'll stick near the trailers,” George whispered. “Cora is still in with Zoë, and Sal . . .” Her eyes darted to the unmanned craft service table.

“. . . has disappeared once again,” Bess finished.

Brian emerged from his trailer already in costume, and Kendall accompanied him as he walked from the clearing to the set.

I stayed several feet behind them, trudging through the overgrown grass that filled the purposely ill--maintained landscape around the entrance to the Hamilton Inn. According to the call sheet, the first scene took place on the front porch of the house, where Malika and Dylan would be sitting.

Brian and Alex engaged in a deep discussion while
the cinematographer adjusted the camera and lights. Since Zoë was still getting ready, there was a “stand-in” in her place on the set. Nysa had explained that stand-ins are actors who are generally the same size as the stars. They “stand in” so the crew can set up a shot correctly while the main actors are getting hair and makeup done.

Meanwhile, Kendall stayed as close to Brian as possible, as if he were the only person there worth speaking to. I sidled up next to her while she watched her client, full of pride.

“Brian really is an amazing actor,” I remarked. “You must love working with him.”

Kendall's eyes lit up. “You have no idea, Noreen. He makes me love my job, you know?”

I didn't bother correcting her about my name; there were more important things to discuss.

“So, that
Blue Ranger
movie. You encouraged Brian to audition for the role, right? I don't mean to pry, but I'm such a huge fan,” I added for effect.