A Script for Danger (Nancy Drew Diaries #10)(6)

“She has a point, Lali,” Alex agreed.

“Okay, okay,” Lali replied, “we’ll hold off on the police for now.”

I could tell she was still uncertain, but they didn’t have much time to discuss it any further because Nysa trotted over to say, “Okay, Alex, we’re ready to block the scene now.”

Alex invited us to stick around and watch the first shot, which of course drew squeals of excitement from Bess.

As we followed him toward the train station, Nysa caught up to me.

“Cora won’t let anyone see her footage,” she said, “but she says that she was on the other side of the parking lot the whole time, so all she got was the crowd’s reaction. Any other ideas?”

“Nope, haven’t heard much,” I told her, smiling weakly. I didn’t want to share too much with Nysa at this point; it was too early to rule anyone out as a suspect.

“Well, let me know if you think of anything, okay?” she said.

After she had walked away, I turned to my friends. “Don’t you think it’s strange that Cora won’t let anyone look at her footage?” I asked.

“What are you saying? You think she did it, Nancy?” George asked.

“Well, she certainly has a motive—jealousy—and she had plenty of opportunities to put the fireworks in the coffee machine.” I chewed my lip.

“No way,” Bess insisted. “Siblings may fight, but they don’t try to scare each other half to death! Plus, plenty of people could have planted those fireworks.”

“I suppose so,” I mused. “Cora was one of the few people on the crew who had a specific task during the reception. She wouldn’t have had time to plant the fireworks, light them, and then make it all the way to the podium to get the photo op.”

“The suspect could have taken advantage of the fact that most of the crowd was focused on Brian,” George added. “By the way, Bess, I think your shrieking damaged my hearing permanently.”

Bess didn’t have a chance to come back with a witty retort, because another loud scream reverberated throughout the parking lot.

It soon became clear that the sound had come from the costume trailer. As we gathered around, a petite, dark-skinned girl with long braids emerged holding a light green sweater covered in what looked like . . .

“Blood!” Bess gasped.





CHAPTER THREE





Going Undercover


THE GIRL WITH THE BRAIDS seemed to be hyperventilating as Brian emerged from the trailer behind her. I noticed Cora’s camera bouncing around nearby. She sure is diligent, I thought.

“At the rate things are going, Cora’s behind-the-scenes documentary is going to be a horror film,” George murmured, raising her eyebrows.

Brian took the sweater and examined the thick red liquid smeared all over it. “Raina”—he nodded toward the girl with the braids—“was just giving me my costume for the first scene; this is how we found it,” he explained. I could tell he was trying to look brave. “There’s something dripping from the ceiling of the trailer.”

Lali, who had run over as soon as she heard the scream, crossed her arms sternly over her chest. “This is ridiculous. Let me get someone to climb up and check—”

Before she could even finish speaking, Brian had managed to get a foothold in the trailer’s tiny window and hoist himself onto the roof.

“Brian, no! That’s way too risky!” Once Lali realized she couldn’t stop him, she grumbled under her breath, “If something happens to him . . .” She cringed as the star crept across the top of the trailer.

“It’s fine!” Brian shouted. “Just ketchup.” He leaned down to sniff the surface below his feet and added, “Mixed with chocolate syrup?”

The crowd emitted a collective sigh of relief. By the time Brian climbed down, Spencer was inside the trailer, examining a hole in the ceiling. He walked back out, scratching his head.

“It looks like someone ripped a hole up there and poured that stuff down onto Brian’s costume, which was on a hanger right below it,” Spencer said. “Another prank.”

Raina still looked terrified. “Okay. Sorry for all the commotion. I think I have a backup for him.”

Brian followed her back into the trailer, while Nysa addressed the rest of the observers. “Okay, everyone, we’re already running behind schedule . . . so let’s move it!” Everyone quickly went to work, but Alex motioned for George, Bess, and me to come over.

“Maybe I’ve seen too many movies,” he muttered, “but I can’t help thinking that someone is trying to sabotage this one.”

“It sure looks that way,” I replied. “Can you think of anyone who would want to stop the film from happening?”

Alex laughed wryly. “The film business is tough as nails. It’s hard for me to think of someone who wouldn’t want to see this project fall apart.”

Lali strode across the parking lot toward us, her face serious. “Maybe we were wrong not to call the police, Alex,” she said. “This is getting creepy.”

“No,” Alex replied firmly. “The police will only slow down filming by questioning everyone. Plus, getting them involved will draw unwanted attention from the press. That’s probably what the saboteur wants. We have to stay one step ahead of him . . . or her.”