Ghost of a Chance (9 page)

“He would have stayed hidden or run away,” Lloyd added.

“Are you saying it's someone's pet?” Joe asked.

“Not necessarily a pet,” Gene said. “But it's definitely used to being around people or it never would have walked out here in the first place.”

Joe, Lloyd, and Gene dragged the tranquilized cat to the wranglers' trailer. The animal was heavy, but they finally managed to secure it in one of the cages. Lloyd put a pan of water in the cage and locked the trailer.

“We've got to find Omar!” Lloyd said. Joe could
hear the worry in his voice. “Who knows where he's been taken.”

“I'm worried about Gus now, too,” Gene said. “What if they've gone to the compound and taken him? We've got to get back there.”

“Look, if the catnapping was just a prank, they might let Omar loose,” Joe said. “What would he do? Where would he go?”

“He won't run away,” Gene said.

“He'll try to follow our scent or the scent of his trailer,” Lloyd said. “If we drive back to the compound, that's where he'll go if he can.”

“So it's not necessary for one of you to stay here in case he comes back?” Joe asked.

“Not if we move the trailer down the mountain,” Lloyd answered.

“All his feed is in the barn down there, too,” Gene pointed out. “That will also be a draw. I'll check in with Dustin, and then let's go,” he said, running off toward Dustin's RV.

Lloyd showed Joe the part of the mountain forest where the puma had made its entrance. The two explored the woods, but found only a red bandanna, which Joe stuffed into his jacket pocket.

Joe and Lloyd also checked the area around the trailer very carefully. But they didn't find anything that might tell them who had taken Omar.

The sun had warmed the mountainside, and Joe peeled off his jacket. One pocket held the red bandanna
he'd found in the woods. He pulled the stillcool chicken pieces out of the other pocket and returned them to the cooler. Then he threw the jacket into the wrangler truck and locked the door.

“Wait a minute, there's only one truck here,” Joe said. “Did one of you drive the other one some-place else today?”

“No,” Lloyd answered. “Why?”

“Well, if none of us drove it away, it was either stolen along with Omar, or Frank's taken it somewhere.” He combed his hand through his hair and looked around. He saw people rehearsing, repairing sets, adjusting cameras, talking and eating, but no Frank.

“I've got to find Frank,” Joe told Lloyd. “He should be around here somewhere. I also want to talk to studio security to see if they saw anything funny.”

“Good idea,” Lloyd said. “We'll take the trailer and see you back at the compound.”

“You go straight back and check on Gus,” Joe said. “Frank and I will stop in town and report the catnapping—and maybe a truck theft—to the Crosscook sheriff.”

Gene rejoined them, saying that Dustin had revised the shooting schedule. The wranglers were free to search for Omar.

“We're out of here,” Gene said, sprinting toward the trailer. “We'll see you at the houses.”

Joe watched the wranglers drive off and then headed to the security trailer.

“Joe!” Sassy called from behind. “Wait! I have to talk to you.”

“I'm in a big hurry, Sassy,” Joe said, turning.

“Well, I heard what happened on the set,” she said. “Are you all right?”

“You'd make a good reporter,” Joe said, smiling. “Nothing happens around here that you don't find out about—almost immediately.”

“Hey, that's my job—folklore, remember?” Sassy pointed out. “I have to be on top of all the rumors and tales and find out which are true and which aren't. So is your story true? A wild puma stalked you while you stood in for Berk?”

“That's pretty much it,” Joe said. “You didn't see what happened?”

“No,” Sassy replied, obviously disappointed. “But everyone's talking about it. So now we need to find out whether the mountain lion was sent to do damage or was just after the food in your pocket.”

“You've got quite a network, Sassy,” Joe said. “Come to think of it, you can be a real help to me right now.”

“Wonderful,” Sassy said, taking out her purple clipboard. “What's my assignment?”

“Tell me where Frank is,” Joe said. “I've lost track of him. Have you seen him?”

Sassy seemed disappointed that she wasn't getting a real investigator's task. “I saw him drive the truck away about an hour ago. I don't know where he was going. He did have a scuffle with someone earlier, though.”

“He what?” Joe said. “What are you talking about?”

Sassy told Joe what she'd heard about Frank and the man with the blue backpack.

“Do you know who it was?” Joe asked.

“I heard it might have been a guy who wrote a book about Jake Herman,” Sassy answered. “But I don't know for sure.”

“And you haven't seen Frank since he drove off?” Joe asked.

“Sure haven't,” Sassy said. “Just one more mystery to solve. This is the best film I've ever been on,” she added, her green eyes wide and round. “It's absolutely wonderful.” Her rust-colored eyebrows arched high as she smiled.

“Well, I'd better get going,” Joe said. “Are you going to be around the set all day? I might want to talk to you later.”

“Sure,” Sassy replied, with a small salute. “Look me up anytime.”

Joe went to the security trailer and talked to a couple of guards. Neither had seen anything suspicious leading up to the puma's attack.

One of the guards was the one who had been
with Frank earlier when the backpacker escaped on the motorcycle. “I'll tell you the same thing I told your brother,” the guard said. “If you see your friend Terry Lavring, tell him he'd better not get caught hanging around these sets.”

Joe was surprised by the guard's words but smiled and said, “If I see him, I'll tell him.”

As Joe walked back to the truck, he decided to follow Frank's trail into town. I have to report the theft of Omar to the sheriff, he reasoned. Maybe I'll see Frank in town someplace and I can pick him up then.

As Joe approached his truck, his keen eyes saw immediately that something was wrong. Although the door was shut nearly tight, it didn't quite line up with the rest of the truck. A small dent in the edge of the door told Joe what had happened.

He barely touched the handle, and the door swung open. It was a little crooked, not enough to attract a lot of attention. It hung at such a weird angle, though, that Joe knew the locked door had been pried open.

A scribbled note was impaled on the turn signal lever: “Back off—or there'll be no escape the next time.”

Joe reached for his jacket, heaped on the floor. This time both pockets were empty. The red bandanna was gone.

“Okay,” Joe muttered. He looked at the empty pocket of his jacket where the red bandanna had been. “This is getting personal now.”

“There he is.” Joe heard Dustin's distinctive British accent. The director and Berk were heading Joe's way. Berk still wore his costume.

“Berk tells me you and your brother were with Terry Lavring when he was informed of his firing,” Dustin said to Joe.

“That's right,” Joe said.

“Did he make any threats?” Dustin asked.

“No,” Joe answered. “What's this all about?”

“We heard Lavring is still in the area,” Dustin said. “Then today we saw someone else prowling around the editing trailer. We're wondering if
the two might be working together to cause trouble.”

“That puma attack was pretty scary,” Berk added. “I've been thinking all along that the problems we've had during the filming were just pranks, but this latest thing—that could have been
me
out there. I could have been attacked by the wild puma.”

“Exactly,” Dustin said. “The so-called gags have escalated into real danger. And my stars are under attack. First Cleo, then Berk. If Lavring is behind this, I won't rest till he's behind bars.”

“Just let us know if you see him,” Berk added.

Dustin nodded and the two walked off.

Joe jumped into the truck and pulled the door closed. It wouldn't latch completely, so he got a hunk of rope from the metal supply chest and tied it closed.

Then he headed to Crosscook to find Frank.

When Frank had pulled into Crosscook a couple of hours earlier, he was determined to find Terry. It didn't take long. Terry's sleek red sports car was parked on the main street. Frank guided his truck into a parking place nearby and went inside a small restaurant.

“Frank,” Terry called out when he saw Frank. “Great to see you. Join me for something.”

Terry was sitting in a booth along the back of the
restaurant. He was dressed in a red nylon windsuit with a silver streak down the arms and legs.

“I thought you'd been banished from the kingdom,” Frank said, taking a seat at Terry's table. He told Terry about the security guard's warning.

“Hey, they can ban me from the set,” Terry said, “but they can't keep me out of Tennessee! I have a nice suite at the inn across the street. I'm not leaving town until I find out who sabotaged my stunt. I've checked my stunt rigging, and it was definitely tampered with.”

The waitress brought Terry a burger, fries, and soda. Frank looked over the menu and ordered the same.

“So what's happening with Cleo?” Terry asked, dousing his fries with ketchup. “Is she back on the set? I miss working with her. I haven't seen her since the hospital. She's got a lot of courage—she'd make a great stuntwoman.”

Frank told Terry about the script being rewritten to account for the young star's sprained ankle. But he stopped short before telling the stunt master about the ghost illusion he'd seen in Cleo's RV that morning. He was quiet for a minute, thinking of the rigging he'd taken from Cleo's ceiling that was locked in his truck.

Finally he turned to Terry. “Do you ever set up any of your stunts for a prank?” he asked. “Or to pull a practical joke on someone?”

“Sure,” Terry admitted with a grin. “What's the fun of knowing how to do all this stuff if you can't fool your friends once in a while?”

Frank took a bite of his hamburger. He was surprised to realize how hungry he was. He hadn't had anything to eat since his light breakfast—and that seemed like a long time ago. He thought about the ghost illusion in Cleo's RV. Terry definitely could have pulled that off, he told himself. But why?

“Have you seen a motorcycle around town this morning?” Frank asked. “With a tall man toting a blue backpack?”

“No,” Terry answered. “Why all the questions? How come I feel like I'm getting the third degree?”

Frank told him about the man he had tackled.

“Well, I don't know who it was,” Terry said, piling more mustard on his hamburger. “Have you and Joe figured out who's been targeting the production?” he asked. “You've got to tell me everything you find out.”

Terry took a big juicy bite of his sandwich. He stared off into space as he chewed. Then he looked back at Frank with an intense stare. “I need all the evidence I can get,” he said. “I'm thinking about suing the studio.”

Frank heard the door open behind him. “And speaking of suing the studio,” Terry said, with a
sweeping arm gesture. “Look who just walked in. Ernesto, join us. I thought I saw you coming into the inn last night.”

Frank turned to see a tall man enter the room. He was dressed in black jeans and a black turtleneck. The man smiled and waved at Terry, but his expression turned cold when he saw Frank.

“It's motorcycle man,” Frank muttered to Terry.

“I'll join you only if you can confirm that your friend here isn't going to wrestle me to the ground,” the stranger said.

“Hands off, I promise,” Frank said. “Actually, I'd like to hear your story.” The man seated himself across the table from Frank.

“Frank Hardy, Ernesto Roland,” Terry said. “Ernesto wrote
Parachute to Peril, the
book about Jumper and his exploits.”

“I've heard of the book,” Frank said. “It got a lot of attention when it came out.”

“Yeah,” Ernesto said, waving the waitress over. “It got a lot of attention from this studio, too. So much that they lifted whole sections of it for the
Dropped into Danger
script.” He ordered a bowl of soup and a ham sandwich.

“So Ernesto sued the studio,” Terry explained. “He accused them of stealing from his book. He said they'd used his book for the script without paying him.”

“I lost the first round,” Ernesto said. “But the
appeal is filed. I'm not going to let them get away with it.”

“The security guard said you were sneaking around the editing trailer this morning,” Frank said. “That was you taking off on the motorcycle after you broke my hold, wasn't it?”