Stay Tuned For Danger Part 9

Nancy sighed and looked at her friend. "Bess, as a friend, I've got to tell you this: You are totally insane!" Then pushing her friend playfully, she whispered, "But go for it. I hope she notices you. I'll see you when it's time for our scene, okay? I want to check out Rick's new dressing room."

Rick was dressing and being made up in an improvised area across the hall from the costume room. He sat staring listlessly into s.p.a.ce, still stunned by what had happened the day before. Kay was with him.

"So, Rick," she was saying, trying to cheer him up, "are you going to give me a hand here, or do I have to do this all myself?"

But Rick didn't move. He seemed so scared-as though there was a voice inside his head telling him over and over again that someone was trying to kill him. And that he or she might very well succeed.

Nancy leaned up against a wall and watched as Kay put some warm water into the sink. "No mirrors in here, I hope you've noticed," she said, trying to make a joke. When she saw she wasn't getting through to Rick even a little bit, she sighed wearily and picked up a stick of makeup.

"Okay, here we go," she said, uncapping it. Then, "Oops!" she cried as the stick slipped out of her hands and fell into the wet sink.

"Clumsy me," she said to herself, shaking her head. Suddenly, there was a hissing noise. The water in the sink began bubbling furiously.

"What the-?" Rick gasped. A sharp odor rose from the sink.

Nancy recognized the smell. "That's acid," she whispered.

"Oh, my G.o.d!" Kay cried, her hands on her cheeks as she watched the acid eat holes in the stainless steel sink. "Rick, that could have been your face!"

Chapter Fourteen.

"THAT'S IT!" RICK exclaimed, "I've had it!" He tried to pick up his suede jacket, but even a simple action such as this was difficult because of the bandages on his hands. Growling with disgust, he stormed out of the room.

"Rick?" Kay called, following him down the corridor. "Where are you going?"

"Forget it, Kay. I'm taking a nice long walk and going someplace where n.o.body can find me."

Just at that moment, a beet-faced William Pappas stepped into the hallway. "What's going on here?" he asked as the handsome actor flew down the hall.

"I'm out of here. Off the show. I'm not taking any more chances."

"But you're under contract, Arlen! You can't just leave!"

"Oh, yeah? Watch me." With that, Rick pushed past the angry producer and made his way toward the entrance.

Pappas made a lunge for him, but a couple of crew members restrained him.

"Come on, Mr. Pappas, calm down," they urged him. "Give him a break. The guy's been under a lot of stress lately."

Pappas let the men straighten his suit as he muttered under his breath, "He's under tension? What am I-chopped liver? I'm behind schedule, and the network is breathing down my back. I have ratings to think of!"

But it was too late. Rick was out the door and gone. Nancy and Kay looked on as the producer fumed, powerless to stop him.

Seconds later Luther Parks hurried up to them, running a hand nervously through his silver hair. "Bill, someone just said Rick Arlen left! What do you want me to do?"

But Pappas was in no mood for creative solutions. "You're the director," he snarled, heading back to his office. "Think of something!"

Luther shrugged and turned to Lillian, who was standing beside him. "We'll shoot the hospital scene with Mattie," he said.

"Whatever you say," Lillian drawled, throwing a wink Nancy's way. "Report to duty, Nurse Drew. And try not to miss your cue."

Standing in the make-believe operating room as the crew adjusted the lights, Nancy's spirits sank. Rick was out on the street somewhere, unprotected. And there she was on her last day in town, about to walk around in the background of a fictional scene instead of tracking down a very real criminal.

Someone had found a way to get around the set undetected, again and again. That was the key. In spite of guards at the doors, and people everywhere, Rick's enemy had gotten in. If she only knew how! If she could only discover the method behind the madness, she felt sure the rest would fall into place. But how could she do anything now?

"Action!" came Lillian's voice. Taking her medicine tray, Nancy crossed the set, put the tray down, and walked back again, heaving a deep sigh.

Action. That's exactly what was needed. If only there was some action she could take!

"Cheer up, Nancy." Bess peered sympathetically into the mirror at her friend's reflection. Nancy wasn't used to losing and it hurt. Bess pulled a comb through her blond hair and twisted it up in one deft move. She fastened it in place, and searched for something comforting to say. "I know it's a b.u.mmer, but you win some and you lose some." Somehow those weren't the words she had been looking for.

"Well, I don't really feel like going out to dinner, that's for sure," Nancy replied listlessly. She reached for her makeup case on the bathroom counter.

"But we're going to a really great restaurant! Your aunt, Eloise, said it's one of her favorites. And I can't wait to tell her about my big scene today. The videotape editor told me he was sure I got into the shot. Can you imagine? There I am, actually handing a paper to Mattie Jensen on national TV! My mother will flip!"

Nancy lifted the collar of her mauve jacket and fastened a rhinestone pin to the lapel. "There's just so little time left and so many unanswered questions."

Suddenly the door buzzer rang. "Come on, Nancy. That's the signal. Your aunt and the cab are waiting!" Bess cried. "Be right down!" she called into the intercom.

At the restaurant the girls were seated by a lovely young hostess, who looked more like a model than a restaurant employee.

"Pierre will be your waiter," she told them.

Just then, a young man with twinkling eyes and a handlebar mustache approached the table.

"Bonsoir. Je m'appelle Pierre. Here I haf ze menu," he said in a thick French accent. Bess couldn't help giggling as he handed the menus around the table, giving each of them a seductive look. "I can tell zees table will be my favorite of ze night."

"I didn't know this place served French food," Eloise mused out loud, watching him go.

"It doesn't," Bess remarked in surprise as she looked over the menu. "A French waiter at an American restaurant. That's weird."

"Not for New York it's not," Nancy's aunt replied.

Nancy's eyes followed the waiter to the bar, where he put in an order for some other customers. "Hey, Steve," he yelled in a regular voice, "give me three mineral waters and a c.o.ke."

Nancy looked up when the waiter returned to the table to take their order. "Garcon-avez vous un stylo noir, peut-etre?"

"Huh?" he asked, confused. "Want to run that by me again, lady?"

"You're not not French?" Bess exclaimed. French?" Bess exclaimed.

"Mais non, mademoiselle," the waiter admitted with a shy smile. "I mean, nope. Never even seen the place."

"I'll bet I know what's going on," Eloise ventured. "You're an actor, aren't you?"

The waiter looked at Eloise for a second and then laughed. "Okay, okay. I confess. I'm guilty. I am an actor, but please don't be mad."

With that, he tugged on the end of his mustache and pulled it off. "I have an audition for the part of a French waiter tomorrow, so I thought I'd get in a little practice tonight. Now, ladies, what can I get you?" He proceeded to take their orders and then left.

"Does that happen a lot around here?" Bess asked.

Eloise smiled and shook her head no. "But many of the waiters in New York are actors, Bess. And a lot of the delivery people, word processors, dog walkers... They do many different kinds of work just to survive between acting jobs."

Bess was sobered by the thought that an acting career could be so difficult. But Eloise's words also had a great impact on Nancy.

"Playing different roles," she murmured softly to herself. Suddenly a big piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. That's how the culprit does it, she told herself. Hadn't she herself gone anywhere on the set completely unnoticed in her nurse's uniform? No one had even looked at her twice. Of course! How could she have missed it?

"And when the director called 'action' I was supposed to be sorting these papers at the front desk," Bess was telling Eloise. "And Mattie walks right up to me and says, 'Excuse me. Did Rory Danner leave a message for me?' And I nod and I hand her an envelope. We must have done the scene six times, right, Nancy?" Bess didn't wait for an answer. She just went on, filling Eloise in on every little detail of her big day on "Danner's Dream." Nancy ate her dinner in silence, trying to put the final pieces of the puzzle together.

"I'm stuffed," Bess said as they climbed the stairs to Nancy's aunt's apartment. "That dessert was too much."

"After you girls leave, I'm going to have to go on a diet," Eloise said, reaching into her bag for the keys.

Just then, through the door they heard the phone ring. "Don't worry-the machine will get it," Eloise said, letting them in and flicking the lights on.

"h.e.l.lo," came Eloise's recorded voice on the answering machine. "I can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message at the sound of the beep, I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"This message is for Nancy Drew." A shiver ran down Nancy's spine. It was the voice of Lillian Weiss. "It's Lillian, Nancy. There's something I have to tell you. It's a matter of life and death. Meet me on the set tomorrow morning at six o'clock, before rehearsal. I'll leave a pa.s.s for you."

Chapter Fifteen.

"NANCY, YOU'RE NOT thinking of going, are you?" The color drained from Eloise's face, and she sat down on the sofa. "You told me yourself that you thought this woman might be the killer. I can't allow you to put your life in danger that way, even to save someone else's. You're my niece, and you're the only child my brother has. Think how he would feel if something happened to you!"

Nancy sat down beside her aunt and took her hand. "Aunt Eloise," she said calmly, "ever since I was a little girl, I've been trying to solve mysteries. I can't quit now! It's my life, Aunt Eloise. It's what I do best. Don't ask me to give it up now, please."

Tears in her eyes, Eloise hugged her niece fiercely. "I'll be biting my nails the whole time, you know that?" she said with a resigned laugh. "But why do you have to meet at the studio?"

"Oh, you know how dramatic soap people are. Just a little added mystery. Now, come on, there's nothing to worry about," Nancy countered with a smile. "And besides, I know quite a lot of karate, remember? All those lessons ought to be good for something."

When she got to Worldwide Broadcasting, Nancy picked up her pa.s.s at the security desk, then slipped into the main corridor. Every muscle in her body was tensed. There was something wrong about all this-she knew it the moment she had heard Lillian's voice. But something drove her on, step by step, toward the studio.

As she turned down a corridor, she saw someone and ducked back around the corner. It was the janitor, mopping the floors. Not wanting to run into anyone, she went back around, taking the long way to the studio in order to avoid him.

Finally, she reached the vacuum-sealed door and pushed her way in. The set was dimly lit, but Nancy's eyes adjusted to the darkness. At first it seemed to be deserted, but then Nancy saw her.

Lillian was sitting oh a chair on the set of the Danner kitchen, holding her head in her hands. As Nancy approached, she turned around.

"Our fair rescuer," she said, under her breath. "How kind of you to come." The words were full of, bravado, but the old self-a.s.sured Lillian was gone. The mocking look had disappeared, and Lillian's face was now fearful.

"Why did you ask me to come here?" Nancy demanded. "What's all this about?"

"Oh, I'm not the maniac, if that's what you're worried about. In fact, I asked you here because-" Lillian's voice wavered. "Because he's after me me now." now."

Nancy crossed the room and sat down next to Lillian. Then she listened intently to every word of her story.

"When things started turning weird around here, I got curious. Actually, I was kind of hoping Rick would get what he deserved, if you get my meaning. But then I found something. It was that day I ran into you in the hall. I had just found it in a closet. I didn't want to tell anyone about it, so I hid it where no one would come across it."

"The prop room, of course!" Nancy's eyes lit up. So that was why Lillian had acted so secretively that day!

"Right. And this little item I found made me want to find out more. So I did. I kept on finding more and more, until-" Lillian's voice was barely a whisper. "Until I got this yesterday." She handed Nancy a typewritten note. "Were you thinking of blackmail, my pet?" it read. "Not if I kill you first."

"So you see," Lillian went on, "that's why I called you here. In case anything happens to me. I mean, I knew you were on the case, and, well, you understand." She picked up a shopping bag that lay at her feet and, taking something out of it, she held it up for Nancy to look at.

"A long-haired wig, gla.s.ses, a T-shirt-" Nancy sifted through the contents, her suspicions confirmed. "It looks like a disguise. Whoever it was used it to get around the set unnoticed."

"Exactly," Lillian agreed. "And what better disguise than as a stagehand? One of those anonymous people walking around during every shoot. Everyone else is so busy doing their work, no one notices. It's perfect!"

"What else did you find?" Nancy asked.

"Oh, more of the same. Different every day. I knew immediately that it was an actor. Or an ex-actor-"

Then I was right! Nancy said to herself.

"You see," Lillian went on, "I finally put two and two together. Which, I hate to say, is more than you've done."

"I take it you have proof of the maniac's ident.i.ty, then," Nancy said.