Stage Fright

  “No, but we’ve had some business contacts.”

  “Business?” Nancy tried to act innocent.

  “I would like to acquire her property. It doesn’t suit me to have a theater next door. When I bought this place last spring, I was told that the Barn was open only in the summer. Now that she’s winterized it, the traffic and noise will be year-round problems. I can’t have it.”

  Nancy was amazed at his tone. He spoke as if he was certain she would agree with him. “I didn’t realize that you could hear or see the Red Barn from here. I thought we were miles away.”

  “You must have circled around,” Ferguson said briskly. “My property line ends at the road right now. I plan to extend it all the way to the river.”

  “I’m not sure that Ms. Caldwell wants to sell the compound,” Nancy said.

  He waved his hand, as if brushing off a fly. “Anything can be bought, for the right price.”

  Nancy was spared having to say anything more as the housekeeper came in with a tray of mocha coffee and dainty fruit tarts.

  Ferguson switched the conversation to plans for his new estate: a swimming pool, tennis courts, a landing pad for his helicopter. “Once I add the riverfront acreage, the total value will quadruple. I’ll own one of the finest properties in New England.”

  “That sounds—impressive,” Nancy said.

  “Land, Miss Drew. Put your money in land, and you’ll never go wrong. I started out with one tiny lot, and look where I am now.” He gazed around the room proudly.

  Nancy checked her watch. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I’m afraid we have to get back to the Barn for a press conference.”

  Ferguson helped them into their coats. “More reporters! Do you realize how many times they’ve called, nosing around for information about my famous neighbor?”

  They walked out to the barn. One end of it had been turned into a garage for a silver sports car and a black sedan. George checked the horses, finding them comfortable in warm, roomy stalls. Nancy peeked at the sedan’s license plate. She had caught only a glimpse of the partly snow-covered plate on the car that had almost run them down. But she knew that the first two numbers were rounded on the bottom and could have been 8, 3, 6, or 0. The third was straight, maybe a 1, 4, or 7.

  The plate on Charles Ferguson’s sedan began with 604. Nancy touched the hood. The engine was warm. Was this the car that had almost struck them?

  During the slow ride back to the compound, Ferguson talked about how much he loved the Connecticut countryside. When he dropped them off in front of the theater, Nancy noted the number of cars and vans in the parking lot. In the falling snow and dim light, half the cars appeared to be dark sedans.

  “What do you think?” George asked after they’d waved Charles Ferguson off. “Could he be the one threatening to burn down the barn?”

  “Maybe,” Nancy said. “He sure is determined to own this property, and he strikes me as the type who does what’s necessary to get what he wants.”

  “I agree.” George glanced at the lights streaming from the Lodge’s windows. “Looks like the press conference has started. Let’s go in.”

  Matt was the center of attention in his wheelchair by the fireplace. His injured foot was propped up and he was answering a reporter’s question. “Yes, we in the theater say ‘Break a leg’ when we wish someone good luck. It hardly ever happens, though.” The reporters laughed.

  Marla had appointed herself MC and was enjoying the spotlight as much as Matt. With great sweeps of her hands, she called on the reporters. “Yes, darling, you in the marvelous little black dress.”

  When the interview was over and the press began to leave, Evelyn pulled Nancy into a corner. “Great news,” she whispered excitedly. “I found this note in my script right after you called. Read it!”

  “Ha-ha. April Fool! It was all in fun. Not to worry. Your theater is safe. Merry Christmas and have a happy New Year!”

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Evelyn asked. “I feel so relieved. Angry, too, of course. Someone’s been playing a very sick joke, but at least it’s over, and now I can concentrate on the play.”

  “Evelyn,” Nancy said. “I don’t think you should believe this note. It may be an attempt to throw us off guard.”

  “But I do believe it. Let’s be logical, Nancy. The first fire in the greenroom was obviously an accident. Anyone could have left the paper cups on the hot plate, not realizing it was turned on. It’s also clear that the prop shed was hit by lightning. No sane person would try to start a fire in a thunderstorm!”

  “Sane people do not commit arson. And rigging the booby trap with the scaffold was no accident.” Nancy put her hands on her hips. “Also, someone in a dark sedan tried to run down George, me, and your horses.”

  Evelyn gasped. “Were you hurt? Are the horses all right?”

  “We’re all fine.” Nancy told her what had happened, including being driven back by Charles Ferguson. “I’m sure the car deliberately tried to hit us.”

  “But, Nancy, dear, isn’t it just as possible the driver didn’t see you? Maybe he tried to slow down but skidded in the snow.”

  Nancy studied Evelyn, who seemed to be determined not to face facts. Her cheeks were pink with excitement, and the frown lines on her forehead were gone. If she believed this note, she could open the play without having to worry about the audience or the Barn. She was going to ignore the evidence that Nancy knew could lead to disaster.

  “Evelyn, I think we have to notify the police. These accidents—”

  “No! No police. Don’t you see? The danger’s over, and the play opens in two days. You wait and see. Everything will be fine!”

  Nancy decided not to argue with her, but was resolved to continue to investigate the case on her own until she could persuade Evelyn that the danger was real.

  As Nancy left the Lodge, she saw that the snow had let up. She headed for her cabin to change her clothes. She was damp all the way through. As she passed Joseph Brunner’s cabin, she heard shouting. She crept closer and peered in the window.

  Fiona faced Joseph, her fist raised in fury. She screamed, “I’ll kill you, you traitor! I swear I’m going to kill you.”

  Chapter

  Seven

  HOW COULD YOU do this to my mother? I confided in you, and you took advantage of me!” Fiona swung her fist at Brunner.

  Brunner ducked, then edged behind a table that held a laptop computer and piles of papers. “Your mother is so famous that the entire country knows every detail of her life. The facts are available in any public library. I only took those facts and used my imagination—”

  “You twisted the truth! You made it seem like my mother is nasty, mean, and vicious. Everyone who sees this play will think she’s as awful as your Angel Divine!”

  “Fiona, the whole world knows that the famous Shannon Sweeney became a superstar by stabbing a lot of people in the back—”

  “My mother was ambitious!” Fiona began to circle the table, forcing Joseph to move around it in self-defense. “But she wasn’t awful—not like you’ve made her! And I, like an idiot, told you family stories when we did your last play here. Now I see those same stories acted out on stage! You’re the one who’s nasty and cruel!” She grabbed a stapler from the table and threw it at him.

  Brunner jumped aside, and it crashed harmlessly into the wall. “I always write from life.” He continued to circle, keeping the table between him and Fiona. “That’s why I’ve had three hits on Broadway—”

  “You and your ego!” Without warning Fiona flipped the table over. The computer crashed to the floor. Papers scattered like confetti.

  “My laptop!” Joseph stared in horror.

  “I’ll kill you!” Fiona lunged and grabbed him by the throat.

  Nancy ran to the cabin door and jerked it open. Fiona’s back was to her. Nancy made a flying leap, catching her around the waist. They fell on the rug, with Nancy on top. Within seconds, Nancy had Fiona pinned to the floor.

&nb
sp; “Let me go!” Fiona wailed. “I wasn’t g-g-going to h-h-hurt him!” She began to sob.

  Slowly Nancy relaxed her grip. Fiona didn’t try to get up but lay on the floor, crying miserably.

  “Thanks.” Joseph nodded at Nancy. “I don’t think she would have hurt me, but . . .” He rubbed his throat. “She’s just a hothead—”

  “You creep!” Fiona sobbed.

  Nancy knelt by the girl and put her hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you come to my cabin? We can talk—”

  “No! Leave me alone!” Fiona jumped up. “I’ll get you, Brunner! I’ll get even with you!” She pulled up the hood of her jacket and ran out of the cabin.

  Nancy closed the door after her. “Is it true, Joseph? Did you base Angel Divine on Fiona’s mother, Shannon Sweeney?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said brusquely. “All my characters are based on real people.”

  “And did you put the family stories Fiona told you in confidence into the play?”

  “Of course. Why not?” He smirked.

  Nancy frowned, then glanced down at the floor. “It looks like your laptop is ruined.”

  He picked up the computer and caressed it. “It had better not be broken. She’ll pay through the nose if it is. How am I going to finish the rewrites? My program isn’t compatible with that piece of junk in the office.”

  “Then you’re familiar with the Barn’s computer?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t say that. Why are you asking so many questions?”

  “I’m just curious. I was thinking about buying a new computer myself.”

  “Well, take your questions and get out. And tell that maniac to stay out of my way.”

  Nancy left Brunner’s cabin, feeling far from sorry for him. She was sorry for Fiona, but it was clear now that she had a very strong motive for wanting to prevent the play from opening.

  Nancy changed into dry clothes, then walked back toward the theater and around to the parking lot. She wanted to examine the cars that were left after the press had driven away. She found two dark sedans and jotted down their license plate numbers. One began 831, the other 067. Either one could have been the one that tried to hit them.

  She wasn’t able to get Evelyn alone until after dinner, a meal Nancy didn’t enjoy. The lasagna was good, but Laura spoiled her appetite. Now that Ned had filled in during rehearsals, Laura seemed to think she owned him.

  “Darling, you really should study acting.” Laura called everyone “darling,” but it sounded ominous when she was addressing Ned. “With your looks, you could be a star.”

  Ned glanced at Nancy, his ears red with embarrassment. “Well, I don’t know . . .”

  “And you read so well today,” Laura gushed. “You have talent, I’m sure of it.”

  Ned stared at his plate. “Not really.”

  “Oh, yes! With a little coaching you’d be terrific.”

  “Um, do you really think so?” His eyes were now fixed on her.

  She fluttered her long lashes. “Why, / could teach you a lot.”

  That’s it! Nancy thought. She folded her napkin and placed it on the table with care. She’d rather have wadded it into a ball and thrown it at Laura. Or Ned. Or both.

  Focus on the case, Nancy told herself. She glanced at George, who was listening to Matt describe the fuss the hospital staff had made over him once they recognized him as Brent from “Ventura Boulevard.”

  Never mind, Nancy thought, I can handle this on my own. She stood up and went over to Evelyn, whispering into her ear. “I need to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, dear.” Evelyn pushed aside her chocolate cake. “Let’s go over to my house. I don’t want to be tempted by all these heavenly calories, anyway.”

  Nancy saw that Ned was watching her as they began to leave. He started to get up, but Laura grabbed his arm and whispered something in his ear. He flashed Nancy an apologetic smile, shrugged his shoulders helplessly, and sat back down again.

  Nancy jerked open the door, annoyed. The night air was crisp, and the blanket of snow muffled all sound. She led Evelyn to the two dark cars, and the director identified them. One belonged to her, the other to Joseph Brunner.

  Nancy decided to ask Ned to talk to the playwright. She had to find out if he was familiar with the Barn’s word-processing program. She also wanted him to open up on who he thought might be trying to sabotage his play. Plus, it would take Ned away from Laura for a while.

  A few minutes later, in Evelyn’s cozy living room, Nancy told her about Fiona’s mother.

  Evelyn was surprised. “My goodness, I had no idea Fiona was related to Shannon Sweeney. She’s never said a word.”

  “Maybe she’s ashamed of her mother.” Nancy watched the lights twinkling on Evelyn’s Christmas tree.

  “I doubt it. Shannon is no worse than a lot of actresses I could name. I’ve worked with her several times, and I can tell you, she’s not nearly as wicked as the character in Joseph’s play.”

  Evelyn tucked her legs under her on the couch. “No, I think Fiona kept the relationship secret because she wants to become a success on her own, not as the daughter of a famous movie star. Fiona’s proud.”

  “She’s also the only person in the compound who has a motive—that we know about—for not wanting the play to open. Do you think she’s desperate enough to try arson?”

  “Fiona? Never! She loves the Barn as much as I do. Now, I wish you’d stop talking about arson. Those notes were just a mean joke.”

  Rather than argue with the director, Nancy decided to play along with her. “Then who is mean enough to do something like that? Joseph Brunner?”

  “Well, maybe. But why would he threaten his own play?”

  “I don’t know—yet. In the meantime Charles Ferguson is the only other person with a known motive. He’s determined to own this property, and he strikes me as a ruthless man.”

  “Surely you can’t think that he would stoop to such low tricks.” She stood up and walked over to the window. Her lovely face reflected the glow of the Christmas lights. “Besides, how could the man sneak on and off the property without being seen?”

  “Perhaps he paid someone in the company to slip the notes into your script.”

  “But who?”

  “I don’t know, but I plan to check into it.” Nancy crossed her long, slim legs. “Let’s concentrate on this afternoon. Joseph owns a dark sedan. Was he in the theater the entire time we were out riding?”

  “Yes, well, most of the time. He did leave for a few minutes at one point.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t remember. I was too involved to notice.”

  “Who else left the theater?”

  “Well, Jill went to town.”

  “What about Marla?”

  “She was busy setting up the press conference. She contacted every newspaper, radio, and TV station in the state. She’s terribly forgetful, but she sure pulled off that press conference.”

  “Was she working out of the theater office? She could have left for a while, and you wouldn’t have known.”

  “But Howie would. He was in the box office all afternoon, too. Surely you don’t think she wrote those notes?”

  “I’m just curious about her.” Nancy stood up and joined Evelyn at the window. The heavy cloud cover had thinned, and a full moon was peeking out. “How did you two meet?”

  “We bumped into each other at auditions in New York. We were the same ‘type,’ so our agents sent us out for the same roles. Sometimes she won the part, sometimes I did.” She laughed. “Most of the time neither of us did.”

  “So in a way you were rivals.”

  “Very friendly rivals. Look, Nancy, all this is pointless. The danger is over, and I have a play to open—”

  “Hello, everyone,” Marla said as she came into the room. “Evelyn, have you seen my knitting? I can’t find it anywhere.”

  “Didn’t you take it up to your room before dinner?” Evelyn said.
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  “Ah, that must be it!” Marla turned toward the staircase, then stopped. “Nancy, that young man of yours is gorgeous. I’d keep an eye on him if I were you.”

  Nancy flushed. So Marla had noticed how Ned and Laura were carrying on. After saying good night, she headed for the Lodge.

  Ned and Laura were on the couch next to the fireplace, bent over a photo album, almost cheek to cheek. “That’s me in Romeo and Juliet,” Laura was saying, pointing to a picture. “And here are the reviews. This critic wrote—”

  “Nancy!” Ned said as soon as he saw her. “I wondered where you’d gone.”

  “I was talking to Evelyn. Can I see you outside for a minute?”

  “Sure.” Ned handed the album to Laura. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  “Well, all right—” she said, and pouted.

  Ned put on his jacket and followed Nancy out onto the porch.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked, zipping up his jacket.

  Don’t get angry, Nancy told herself. Focus on the case. “I need your help,” she said, then told him about Joseph’s fight with Fiona and the fact that he owned a dark sedan. “I want you to talk to him. Find out if he’s familiar with the Barn’s computer and ask him where he went when he left the theater today.”

  “Sure, I’ll go talk to him right now.” He turned away.

  Nancy hesitated, then said, “Wait a minute, Ned, there’s something else.”

  “You sound upset.” He came back and put an arm around her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

  Anger spilled out in one word: “Laura.”

  Ned hugged her. “Laura? You don’t have to worry about her. She’s just being friendly.”

  “Is that what you call it? Are you blind? She’s a flirt. She’s the type who has to charm the boots off every man she meets, just to prove how perfectly adorable she is!”

  “Well, she does get a little carried away at times,” Ned said.

  “And you’re falling for it!” Nancy countered. “You spend more time with her than you do helping me!”

  “Hey, wait a minute, Nan!”

  Nancy didn’t wait. She pulled away from him and jumped off the porch.