A Script for Danger (Nancy Drew Diaries #10)(12)

“Alex made you leave?” I had been sensing friction between the siblings since the moment I arrived.

“Yeah. Brian said I could stay, but Alex thought my camera was distracting everyone from the real camera. You know, I’ve been studying film way longer than my brother has. Up until two years ago, he was going to be a lawyer!” Her hands were clenched around her camera straps so hard that her knuckles turned white.

I did my best to comfort her. “Well, I’m sure he’s just stressed out, what with it being the first day of shooting and having to deal with these pranks.”

Cora kept her gaze downcast. “Whatever,” she said. “At least Brian gets it, even if my brother doesn’t.”

She stalked away and plopped down angrily in one of the plastic chairs next to the craft service table. I wanted to linger nearby in hopes of continuing the conversation, but Cora didn’t seem to be in a chatty mood.

As I pondered the case further, Zo? swished past me, speaking intensely to someone on her phone. She disappeared into her trailer.

After a few minutes, she poked her head out the door. “Has anyone seen Shea?” she called. A young-looking production assistant with jet-black hair dashed across the parking lot.

“I’m here, Zo?!” he cried. “Sorry! I was looking for the stapler.” He stopped to catch his breath. “But that’s not as important as you! What do you need?”

Zo? looked a little taken aback by Shea’s display of enthusiasm. “I just wanted to see if tomorrow’s call sheet was ready. I was wondering what we’re shooting.”

“You shouldn’t be handing out call sheets early,” Omar barked from where he was sulking nearby.

“But they’re finished,” Shea said, looking confused. “Should I ask Nysa first?”

“Omar, don’t harass him,” Zo? scoffed. “It’s fine, Shea. I just need to get an idea of what time I should be here tomorrow. I’m trying to schedule something.”

Shea looked anxiously from Zo? to Omar. Finally he said, “I’ll get a call sheet, Zo?,” and he ran to the production trailer.

“Fine. Don’t listen to me,” Omar huffed, rummaging around in one of the coolers near the craft service table.

Even though it wasn’t first time I’d heard Omar make a snotty comment, he was being particularly harsh on Shea. I wondered if there was something bothering him beyond being kicked off the set.

“Omar, can you hand me a soda?” I asked. “I’m really thirsty.”

“Huh?” he said, as if he didn’t understand.

“A soda. Please.”

“Oh, sure,” Omar replied, tossing me a can.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “You seem kind of . . . on edge.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m just tired. The early mornings are getting to me, you know?”

I nodded.

“And I guess I’m a little homesick,” he added.

“For L.A.?”

“No, I’m from Vancouver. I’ve never actually been to Los Angeles,” Omar admitted, “but I’m hoping that Brian’s next project will take me there.”

Shea jogged back out of the production trailer, sweating and wearing a panicked expression.

“Lali?” he called, and then repeated his words into his walkie-talkie. “Has anyone seen Lali? It’s an emergency. I need her NOW.”

Moments later Lali hurried over. Shea whispered something in her ear, and she snatched the call sheet from his trembling hand.

I leaned over to peek. In big red letters on the bottom of the piece of paper, someone had written: SHUT IT DOWN, OR YOU’LL BE SORRY.





CHAPTER FIVE





Double Agent


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.”