A Script for Danger (Nancy Drew Diaries #10)(24)

“What are you doing out here?” I asked. “You might as well come clean now.”

I inched closer until I could see what he was reading: How to Write and Sell Your Screenplay in Three Easy Steps. From what I could see, Sal’s notes consisted of diagrams, charts, and names.

“You’re writing a screenplay?” I asked, stunned.

“What’s it about?” Bess inquired, automatically turning on her bright-eyed charm.

“Very funny. Just go ahead and laugh,” Sal challenged her. “Get it out of your system.”

“I wasn’t joking,” Bess said defensively.

Sal narrowed his eyes. “I know what you people think of me,” he said. “Just a dumb old man who doesn’t know about anything besides milk and cookies.”

“Nobody thinks you’re stupid,” I said truthfully. “A lot of people think you’re crabby, though.”

“I’m here to collect a paycheck, not make friends,” Sal said stubbornly. “And I don’t need anyone stealing my ideas.” He flipped over his legal pad just to emphasize his point.

“Is that why you’re hiding all the way out here in the woods?” I asked.

“It’s taken me twenty years of working on film sets to work up the courage to write my own screenplay,” Sal grumbled, avoiding my gaze, “and I don’t want anyone to know if I fail.”

He sat down on the bench with his shoulders slumped. “Please don’t write about this,” he begged, “or tell anyone on the crew.”

“We promise,” Bess replied, “but I bet people would be a lot more understanding than you think.”

“Alex used to be a paralegal for my dad,” I told Sal, “and he said that his parents thought he was playing an April Fools’ joke when he told them he was going to become a director instead of going to law school.”

“So?” Sal grunted.

“So,” I continued, “they sure don’t think he’s joking now.”

Sal exhaled. I thought I saw a glimmer of a grin on his face.

“I need to finish my outline,” he mumbled. We took the hint and left him alone.

The unexpected discovery of Sal’s Hollywood aspirations kept me preoccupied during the short trek back to set. I momentarily stopped thinking about my near-death experience only a short time before. However, seeing the disproportionately large number of crew members milling around base camp was a harsh reminder of how desperate the situation had become—and how far we still were from nailing the culprit.

George groaned. “First Kendall, then Cora, then Sal! We keep ruling out suspects, but we aren’t getting closer to the truth!” She flopped down on a chair, exasperated.

“I’m not quite ready to rule out Cora,” I interjected.

“You sound more paranoid than Sal,” Bess said. “Cora has been trying to help us.”

“I just don’t trust her yet,” I insisted. I leaned down to tie my shoelace when a sudden vibration nearly knocked me off my feet.

“What’s wrong, Nancy?” Bess squeaked.

I touched my pocket. “It’s my cell phone. I put it on silent.” I giggled, embarrassed. Maybe my brush with danger had me more unsettled than I realized.

“Hello?”

An unfamiliar male voice said, “Hi, um, this is Ronan Beale. I got a message that you wanted to interview me?”



I had no idea how long Ronan had been back in River Heights, so I couldn’t risk revealing my true identity. When I’d left the message with his mother, I’d given my name as Alison. Bess had convinced Raina to lend us a black wig from the costume trailer, claiming that I was considering a “new look” and wanted to see a preview before permanently dying my hair.

Bess walked me to my car, trying to convince me that I needed some lipstick even though I felt sufficiently disguised. However, she stopped prodding when we bumped into Shea pacing near the parking area. He looked sweaty and pale.

“Is Lali down here?” he whispered.

“No,” I replied. “I think she’s still on set. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just . . . someone is looking for her.” Shea pointed. I followed his gaze just in time to see a woman—the same one I’d seen arguing with Mayor Scarlett on day one—getting out of her car.

“Is that Roberta Ely?” I wondered aloud. Shea nodded.

Roberta Ely stomped from the parking area toward the trailers, her arms swinging at her sides, like a bull raring to attack.

“She looks . . . rather upset,” Bess commented.

“That’s an understatement,” Shea said. “She drove up and immediately began howling about how Lali called her while she was at work and made her come all the way out to the middle of nowhere. I better warn someone before she makes a scene!”

Shea scurried off behind Roberta Ely, who looked angry enough to push down the security guards in order to gain access to the set.

“Lali made her come here?” Bess repeated, incredulous. “Why would she do that?”

“It’s strange for sure,” I said, but when I glanced at my watch, I realized I didn’t have time to speculate. “I have to go. Ronan only has twenty minutes to meet with me.”

“George and I will let you know what happens with Roberta Ely,” Bess offered. “Are you okay with seeing Ronan alone?”