A Script for Danger (Nancy Drew Diaries #10)(14)

“You mean Alex,” I offered. “Turn left here.”

“Who?” She yanked her steering wheel sideways, coming jerkily to a stop and putting the car in park.

“Never mind,” I said. “So you didn’t want Brian to work on this film?”

Kendall opened her door and stepped out of the car. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just—Brian’s a star. He can get bigger projects. But I get it, I mean, the whole Blue Ranger thing, that was just so . . .”

Before Kendall could finish her sentence, one of her stiletto heels sank right into the mud. “Eek!” she shrieked.

“So . . . what?” I pressed.

But Kendall was preoccupied. “What a mess. Doll, hand me that box on the backseat, would you?”

I had to twist myself into the tiny backseat to reach the cardboard shoe box. On the floor of the car, I noticed a plastic bag with bottles of ketchup and mustard peeking out of the top.

I made sure not to linger for fear of arousing suspicion and quickly handed Kendall the shoe box, which contained a pair of brand-new white tennis shoes.

“When did you get into town, Kendall?” I asked. She changed into the sneakers and tossed her stilettos haphazardly into the backseat, narrowly missing my cheek.

“Oh, two days ago.” She grimaced. “I couldn’t come to the shoot yesterday because I’ve had so much work to do. I’ve just been on my phone constantly, trapped in some horrible two-star hotel downtown eating the worst food I’ve ever had.”

“So the producers of The Blue Ranger must have been really upset when Brian—” I began, when Kendall’s phone rang.

“Oh hello, how are you?” she shrieked into the phone, pressing her finger to her lips to quiet me. Kendall stayed several feet behind me as I walked her to the set, but even at her lowest volume, I could hear every word. Whoever was on the other end of her call was getting an earful of complaints about River Heights, the lack of good restaurants and Pilates studios, and speculation about what could have possibly possessed Brian to act in such an insignificant film because, according to Kendall, “there’s nothing in it for him.”

She was still on the phone when we got to Brian’s trailer. She barged inside, not bothering to knock. As soon as the door closed behind her, I ran over to Bess and George, who were lingering outside the hair and makeup trailer, I noticed that the trailer was slightly open and inside Cora was filming Zo? getting her hair done.

“Who. Was. That?” George asked, motioning toward Brian’s trailer.

“That,” I replied, “is Kendall, Brian’s agent from Los Angeles and our newest suspect.” I recounted everything I’d overheard Kendall say on the phone and shared the additional clue of the ketchup in her backseat.

“But . . . why?” Bess asked, dumbfounded. “If she’s Brian’s agent, isn’t she supposed to be helping him?” Bess always wanted to believe the best about everyone, which was part of what made her such a good friend.

I shrugged. “She might think she is helping him. She claims he should be in bigger movies, like The Blue Ranger, but Brian clearly doesn’t agree.”

“She’d also be helping herself,” George offered. “As Brian’s agent, Kendall gets a percentage of his salary, right? If she were to shut down The Hamilton Inn, Brian would be free to take on a better-paying role and Kendall would make more money too.”

Bess crinkled her nose in disgust. “That does make sense. And it would explain why she would be driving around with ketchup in her rental car.”

George grabbed her phone and started typing. “Look at this,” she said, turning the screen toward us. “Kendall was actually the assistant to Brian’s main agent and was only promoted a few weeks ago. Brian is her one client!”

“That means that she’s dependent on Brian’s salary. Definitely a motive,” I remarked. “Kendall didn’t show up on the first day, even though she was already in town. I wonder if there’s some way she could have put the firecrackers in the coffee machine and cut the hole in the wardrobe trailer.”

“What about the call sheet?” Bess asked. “I can’t imagine her being that close to Brian and Zo?’s trailers without someone recognizing her.”

“Or hearing her,” I added. “I’ll stay close to her and see if I can find out anything else.”

“We’ll stick near the trailers,” George whispered. “Cora is still in with Zo?, and Sal . . .” Her eyes darted to the unmanned craft service table.

“. . . has disappeared once again,” Bess finished.

Brian emerged from his trailer already in costume, and Kendall accompanied him as he walked from the clearing to the set.

I stayed several feet behind them, trudging through the overgrown grass that filled the purposely ill--maintained landscape around the entrance to the Hamilton Inn. According to the call sheet, the first scene took place on the front porch of the house, where Malika and Dylan would be sitting.

Brian and Alex engaged in a deep discussion while the cinematographer adjusted the camera and lights. Since Zo? was still getting ready, there was a “standin” in her place on the set. Nysa had explained that standins are actors who are generally the same size as the stars. They “stand in” so the crew can set up a shot correctly while the main actors are getting hair and makeup done.