A Script for Danger (Nancy Drew Diaries #10)(20)

It was Kendall—and she was placing something on Zo?’s dressing table.

“What are you doing in here, Kendall?”

“Hey, Nancy,” she said calmly, meeting my eyes in the dressing table’s mirror. “Lali finally admitted that you’re some kind of teen detective after I asked her to kick the ‘journalists’ off the set. Well, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but there’s no mystery here.”

She held up the object in her hand—a thick manila envelope with Zo?’s name written on it.

“What’s that?” I asked, but Kendall just smiled. She handed me the envelope, and I opened it to find . . .

“Contracts?”

Kendall nodded. “Signed contracts. I had to be a little sneaky about picking them up yesterday because I don’t want Brian to know that I’m signing Zo? as a new client. He can be a little territorial sometimes.”

So that explains Cora’s video, I thought.

“But the ketchup in your car . . . ,” I began, and Kendall laughed again.

“You are a good detective,” she replied, not missing a beat. “I stopped at the store, thinking I could cover up the terrible-tasting hotel food with some decent condiments.”

Kendall backed out of Zo?’s trailer and continued her explanation outside. I noticed her luggage waiting nearby.

“Are you leaving?” I asked, coming down the steps to stand next to her.

“Yeah. I have to get back to Los Angeles. My flight leaves in a few hours, but first I wanted to return copies of the contracts to Zo?,” she replied. “Although I’m still worried about what’s been happening here—all the pranks and stuff,” she added.

“I’m doing my best to figure out what is going on,” I said.

“Well, you can cross me off the suspect list,” she said jokingly. Then her tone grew serious. “Look, Nancy. I know I didn’t say the nicest things about Alex and the film, but working in Hollywood can make you cynical,” she confessed.

“So I’ve heard,” I offered.

She threw me a wry smile. “But from what I’ve seen, Alex has the potential to be a solid director. The Hamilton Inn could be a great opportunity for the world to see what a talented actor Brian is.”

“Better than The Blue Ranger, even?” I asked.

Kendall shook her head sadly. “I’m not sure what he told you, but Brian didn’t get that part. He was so close, but the director didn’t think he was right for it. And he was completely devastated. At first I thought he took the role in The Hamilton Inn just to take his mind off it. But I guess that sometimes things just work out for the best.”

“So he’s just telling everyone he turned it down,” I clarified.

Kendall nodded. “It’s harmless, really,” she said. “I guess it makes him feel better.”

“I noticed him carrying around a Blue Ranger comic book,” I recalled.

Kendall paused. “Well, The Blue Ranger is scheduled to start shooting in four weeks. I’ve heard rumors that the actor they cast as the lead is having second thoughts, but it doesn’t matter. For Brian, The Blue Ranger door is closed. That’s why it’s better for him to be here, focusing on what’s happening next instead of feeling bad about the past.”

Nobody would ever know that Brian is feeling bad, I thought. He must be acting all the time!

“I should get going,” Kendall said. “It was nice to meet you, Nancy. Keep an eye on my clients, will you?”

“I’ll try,” I replied.

George and Bess arrived not too long after she left.

“Well, I for one am glad to know that Brian’s agent isn’t trying to ruin his movie,” Bess said after I’d filled them in. “Aren’t you, Nancy?”

“Of course,” I replied, “but that means that our suspect is still at large.”

“Speaking of which, I’m dying to know where Sal went last night,” George remarked. I’d told them about my terse exchange with Sal on our drive home.

“You and me both,” I said.

Since it was our second day shooting at the Hamilton Inn location, it took the crew less time to prepare for the first shot. All the trailers had remained in the clearing overnight (with ample around-the-clock security), and the inn itself was already dressed and decorated.

“What are they filming today?” George asked, examining my call sheet. “Ooh!” Her eyes lit up. “The haunted house scenes! Lots of creaks and ghosts!”

“That would explain the smoke machine,” I replied, pointing at the dense fog pouring out of a window. It made the surrounding woods seem especially eerie.

I finally spotted Alex darting around, talking animatedly to the production designer, the costume designer, and the cinematographer. Even though I desperately wanted to go over our latest findings, I was happy to see him in his element.

“When Alex worked for my dad,” I recalled, “he loved talking about his favorite ghost stories. I can see why he’s so excited today.”

“Excited . . . and stressed,” Lali said, coming up behind us. “He knows you want to talk to him, but he just has no time this morning.”

“Okay. Well, in the meantime, did you find out anything about Ronan Beale?” I asked.