A Script for Danger (Nancy Drew Diaries #10)(5)



“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.”

I half smiled at how well Ned knew me. “I’m just worried about Alex,” I replied.

“Let me know how it goes. I’ll call you tonight.” Ned patted my shoulder affectionately before darting off.

“Alex does look overwhelmed,” Bess observed. “Should we go see if he needs any help?”

I was thinking the same thing. As Bess, George, and I made our way over to him, I heard Mayor Scarlett speaking to someone walking alongside her. I only caught the tail end of their conversation.

“. . . it worries me. Maybe Roberta Ely was right,” the mayor muttered.

Before I could wonder who that was, Lali’s voice boomed out, “Come on, people! Time costs money, and we don’t have much of either!”

The crew was like a machine with hundreds of different moving parts. Each person seemed to know exactly what his or her job entailed and how it fit into the bigger picture. Right now, people were hustling to set up lights around the train station’s entryway. A circle of crew members surrounded Alex, firing questions at him from every direction:

“The darker jeans don’t fit her. How about the blue leggings instead?”

“I don’t know if that angle is going to look the way it does in the storyboards. What do you think about changing the lens?”

“Do we really need two close-ups?”

As soon as he saw us approaching, though, Alex broke apart from the group.

“Nancy! I was just about to call you to make sure you didn’t leave,” he said breathlessly. He motioned for us to join him a few feet away from the train station.

“I can’t believe that fireworks stunt,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Did people seem really freaked out?”

“It was startling,” I said, choosing my words carefully so as not to upset him even more, “but everyone calmed down once it became clear that nobody was hurt.”

Just then Lali came over and glanced at Bess, George, and me. “Alex, can we talk?”

“Sure. Lali, this is Nancy. She’s Carson Drew’s daughter, you know, my old boss? And these are her friends George and Bess.”

Lali smiled stiffly, her mind clearly on other things. “Nice to meet you. Alex, I need to talk to you about what just happened.”

“Any idea who did it?” he asked.

Lali shifted her eyes. “Well, Sal didn’t seem to be around when the firecrackers went off, so he has no clue as to who might have been tampering with the machine.”

“I noticed that there was some friction between Sal and Nysa,” George observed. “Maybe Sal planted the firecrackers to mess with her?”

Lali seemed surprised that we knew so much.

“There’s no way,” she said. “I’ve worked with Sal many times, and he can be difficult, but he would never do something like this. He’s a professional.”

“Are you sure, Lali? He’s pretty grumpy,” Alex said, suspicion clouding his face.

I could tell that Lali didn’t like being challenged, so I jumped in. “We also noticed Brian having an argument with a younger guy, the nicely dressed one. . . .”

Lali’s phone started beeping, and she looked down, distracted.

“Oh, that’s Omar, Brian’s assistant,” Alex explained. “The most devoted assistant in the world. Don’t worry; it wasn’t him. He would rather die than do anything to mess with Brian’s career.” Alex rolled his eyes and directed my gaze to Brian’s trailer. Omar was juggling a thermos, a coffee mug, and a small grocery bag, trying not to spill anything on his crisp shirt before reaching his boss’s door.

Just then Spencer walked by, complaining about a lost pair of wire cutters. “Lali, I’m pretty sure someone was messing around in our truck.”

Lali threw up her hands. “We’ll put another security guard down there, okay?”

As soon as Spencer was gone, Lali turned to Alex and said, “Maybe we should call the police. We need the crew—and our prankster—to know that we are taking this seriously.”

Alex considered this. “I think we should hold off,” he replied. “It was probably just some local kids trying to get Brian’s attention. We don’t want police interrogating the crew, you know? It’ll make people uncomfortable.”

“I don’t know . . .” Lali furrowed her brow.

“What do you think, Nancy?” Alex asked, turning to me. “Is someone trying to hurt us?”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “The firecrackers were clearly intended to make a statement. Even the people standing closest to the craft service table didn’t get hurt. Did you see the coffee machine? The lid was shut tight.”

Carolyn Keene's Books