Part 7 (2/2)
Quickly Nancy put everything back in the desk exactly where she'd found it. When Dwayne returned, he was trying hard to calm down.
”I'm sorry. Now, where were we before that ghastly woman interrupted us?”
Nancy s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably in her seat. Dwayne's eyes had a wild look in them, and having found what she'd come for, all she wanted to do was get out as quickly as she could.
”You know, Mr. Casper, I feel like such a fool, but I just remembered-I've got an appointment with a photographer in fifteen minutes! He's going to take head shots of me.”
”Oh, I see,” Dwayne replied, still smiling. ”Well, is he any good? Maybe I know him. What's his name?”
”His name? Uh-” Nancy panicked for a moment. What could she say? Finally she blurted out, ”Ned Nickerson. He's new in town-just got in from L.A. But Mattie says he's good.”
”Hmmm.” Dwayne frowned. ”Never heard of him. Well, Diane, come and see me when you've got your pictures. I'll see what I can do for you.” He extended his hand for her to shake. His grip was firm, like iron, and his eyes searched hers intently.
”Come to think of it, have we met before? You look a bit familiar,” Dwayne said.
”Well, we've never actually met,” she replied, ”but as I said before, I did do extra work on 'Danner's Dream'.”
”That must be it, then,” he said. ”You'd better get going if you don't want to be late for your shoot. Look forward to seeing you again, Ms. Elliot.”
”Thank you so much. You've been a great help!” Nancy said and left the office.
Down in the lobby, Bess was munching on a candy bar and smiling broadly. ”How'd I do?” she mumbled, her mouth full of chocolate.
”Bravo!” Nancy applauded, laughing. ”I especially loved your rendition of 'Tonight.' It was-different, very different.”
”You really think so?” asked Bess, fluffing her hair and winking.
”And wait till I tell you what I found!” Nancy said, grabbing her friend by the arm. ”But we'd better get over to 'Danner's Dream' right away. I want Mattie to hear this, too.”
The crisp spring air whirled around them as they walked briskly up Broadway toward Columbus Avenue.
”He's really in bad shape, huh?” Bess asked incredulously after Nancy filled her in.
”Everybody in the world is after him. And when people are that desperate, it can make them pretty crazy. I want to keep a close eye on Dwayne Casper, Bess. I think he may be our man.”
Pus.h.i.+ng through the gla.s.s doors of Worldwide Broadcasting, Nancy and Bess beamed at the security guard.
”Hi!” Nancy called out. ”We're back again.”
”Why, h.e.l.lo, girls. You heard the set was closed, didn't you?” the man asked. ”They've been having a little trouble in there and Pappas sent down the order. I can't let anybody in, not even you two.”
”I know,” Nancy told him. ”But could you call Mattie Jensen? We just need to talk to her for a few minutes.”
The security guard ran his finger down the list of telephone extensions on his desk. ”Sure thing. Mattie, let's see- Ah! Here it is.”
But before he had a chance to pick up the intercom, he was interrupted by the boom of a powerful explosion. The sound of shattering gla.s.s tore through the air, followed by a bloodcurdling scream.
”Nancy!” gasped Bess in terror. ”That was Rick!”
Chapter Twelve.
WITHOUT WAITING FOR permission, Nancy and Bess followed the security guard backstage. Losing themselves in a mob of people, the girls made their way toward Rick's dressing room.
The lighting designer had been the first to reach the room itself. ”Call an ambulance!” he bellowed frantically.
Nancy and Bess arrived a minute later and watched in shock as Kay Wills, the makeup artist, staggered down the hall toward them. Her skin was ashen, and she was trembling all over. Choking back tears, she turned around and sobbed, ”It's bad-really bad.”
Nancy stood on tiptoe and craned her neck to see inside Rick's dressing room. The first thing that caught her eye was the wide mirror over the makeup table. It had been shattered into a thousand pieces!
An emergency medical team had arrived, and they were on their way up the hall now, pus.h.i.+ng aside the crowd of onlookers. ”Make room!” Nancy called, flattening herself against the wall.
”Rick! Oh, where is he?” Bess cried frantically. She bit the back of her hand as she strained to get a good look. Just then, Rick appeared in the doorway. He had a stunned look on his face. His blond hair had been blown every which way, and the white towel around his shoulders was stained bright red. Looking down, Nancy gasped-Rick's hands were bleeding!
As soon as the paramedics saw him, they broke into a run. Gathering around him, they picked him up and laid him on a stretcher. They began pulling slivers of gla.s.s out of his hands as Rick winced in pain.
”Back off, everybody!” one of the paramedics shouted as the crowd began to press in on them again. In what seemed like just a few seconds, they had finished their immediate task and lifted the stretcher. They carried the wounded star down the hall, out of the building, and into a waiting ambulance.
Once Rick was gone, the bystanders milled around, not knowing what to do. The police arrived and began inspecting the scene, interviewing people, and collecting evidence.
Nancy walked over to Kay, who was now sitting on the floor in a corner of the hall. She still looked pale as a ghost.
”What happened, Kay?” Nancy asked gently, crouching down beside her.
”He was w-wiping off h-his cold cream-” Kay stammered, staring off into s.p.a.ce. ”And the mirror just exploded! Thank G.o.d he had that towel over his face. He'd be blind-worse, maybe. And I was just on my way in there-it could have been me, too!”
A few minutes later, while police combed the area for clues, Pappas a.s.sembled the cast and crew.
”Listen up! I have a report from the hospital about Rick.” The excited buzzing died down as the producer's voice boomed out into the vast studio.
”He's going to be okay. They said it looked a lot worse than it really was, and that they're going to release him tonight. His hands will be bandaged for a while, of course, but we can work around that. I've already contacted our writers to come up with some material that'll explain his bandaged hands. If we can't work this into the story line somehow, Luther will just stick to closeups. In any case, we're not going to let this shut us down. As far as I'm concerned, you're all still under contract, and that includes Rick. I want everybody back here tomorrow at seven sharp!”
Just then the police officer who had been examining Rick's dressing room let out a long low whistle. ”Hey, chief! Look what we found!”
The policeman held up a small metal object. ”It's a twenty-four-hour timer. Whoever set this up must have done it yesterday.”
Pappas, standing a few feet away, nearly choked. ”That's impossible! This set is closed down tight on Sunday. I even hired extra security. My own mother couldn't have gotten in here!”
<script>