A Script for Danger (Nancy Drew Diaries #10)(8)

I wanted to ask if he knew of anyone who might want to harass him, but Omar’s walkie-talkie crackled first. “We’re ready for a walk-through.”

“That’s my cue. See you around, girls. Bye, Bess.” Brian looked right at her.

As soon as he was out of earshot, George and I turned to Bess, who seemed to be having trouble breathing again.

George poked her. “Are you okay?”

Bess found her voice and choked her words out. “How can you be so calm? He’s perfect.”

George, for once, nodded her head amiably. “He’s nice; I’ll give you that. Especially when you talk to him, right, Nancy?”

Normally I would have joined George in teasing Bess, but right now, I had too much on my mind.

I also noticed that Raina was finally alone in the costume trailer.

“I’m going to try to dig up more about the bloody sweater,” I told my friends. “Can you keep an eye out here to see if anything else strange happens?” George and Bess nodded.

I knocked on the trailer door, and when I didn’t hear a response, pushed the door open gently. Raina was inside, ironing a shirt, and I noticed that her hands were shaking. She jumped about a foot in the air when she saw me standing there.

“Hi, Raina. Sorry to startle you!” I apologized. “I’m Nancy Drew, a friend of Alex’s, and I’m writing an article about the movie. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

She let out a deep breath.

“I haven’t been a costume assistant for that long,” she confessed. “I’ve never worked with a star as big as Brian. All this is sort of new to me.”

“So did you see anyone unexpected around the trailer before you noticed the blood?” I asked.

Raina shook her head. “Nope. It was just the usual: production assistants, actors, and a few extras. If there aren’t any members of the costume department around, we usually lock up the trailer.”

“So when do you think someone might have cut the hole and poured the fake blood?” I questioned.

“Well.” Raina seemed to think for a moment. “I guess it could have been during the chaos after the fireworks . . . yes!” She seemed to grow more confident. “After the explosion, I ran all the way across the parking lot to see what was going on. That would have been enough time for someone to climb up onto the roof and cut the hole in the ceiling.”

That confirmed George’s earlier hunch. The person responsible for putting the blood on Brian’s costume wasn’t in any of the photographs that Ned had taken for the Bugle.

Raina added, “You know, I wouldn’t have even noticed the fake blood if it hadn’t been all over the first costume I pulled.” She motioned to the racks of clothing that lined the walls of the trailer.

It was true; if the hole in the ceiling had been slightly to the left or the right, the fake blood would have fallen on one of the other costumes instead of Brian’s. And most of those were in plastic garment bags.

“That means that either it’s a coincidence, or . . .”

“Or whoever did it knew which costume was coming up first,” Raina finished.

I noticed that every single costume was clearly labeled with the scene number, character name, and shoot day. It wouldn’t have been that hard to figure out, if someone knew where to look.

Just then Bess popped her head in the trailer door, panting like she’d been running. “Nancy, they’re about to start shooting. We should probably get to the set.”

The first shot seemed like a prime opportunity for the saboteur to strike again, if he or she was going to. I ducked out of the costume trailer.

“See you later, Raina.” She waved meekly, as if she did not want to be left alone.

When George, Bess, and I arrived “on set,” which was what everyone was calling the entrance to the train station, Nysa handed us each a copy of today’s “sides,” which, she explained, are miniature screenplay pages corresponding to the scenes that are going to be filmed each day.

In this particular scene, Zo? and Brian—or should I say, Malika and Dylan, the brother-sister duo—were exiting the train station in their small Midwestern hometown, having just left an exciting life in the big city. Equipment crowded the station’s doorway, and there were tape marks on the floor where Zo? and Brian would stand to deliver their lines.

“Jeez, every scene takes so much planning!” Bess observed, reading my thoughts.

“Quiet on set!” Nysa bellowed.

Everyone quickly fell silent. After a series of military-sounding commands, a camera assistant announced, “Scene Four A-One, Shot One, Take One,” and slapped a slate. I had never seen someone do that in real life.

“Aaaand . . . ACTION!” Alex belted.

Upon Alex’s command, Zo? and Brian walked through the station’s doors and spoke lines about how strange it was to be back home.

While the camera rolled, I noticed Lali speaking animatedly with someone near the trailers, but I couldn’t quite make out who it was.

“I’m going to see what’s going on over there,” I whispered to George and Bess, pointing in Lali’s direction.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I mean, Lali wouldn’t sabotage her own film,” Bess said softly. “Why don’t you stay and watch?”