Stage Fright

  “I was only checking her out as a suspect,” he said.

  Nancy swung around and said, “Get real, Ned.”

  Then she ran through the snow, and the darkness enveloped her.

  Chapter

  Eight

  NANCY!” NED CRIED, snow flying as he plowed through the drifts after her. He was tall and strong, but Nancy’s long legs quickly carried her up the hill toward the stable as gracefully as a deer.

  He caught up to her just as she reached the empty paddock. Hearing his steps closing behind her, she gave up the race and leaned against the fence, her breath coming out in quick, frosty puffs.

  He stopped a few feet away. “Nan, I’m sorry. I know how it must seem to you, but really, Laura doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s just that she’s—”

  “A beautiful actress who thinks you could be a movie star.”

  Ned laughed. “Me, in the movies? No thanks. I mean, it’s nice that she thinks so.”

  “Admit it, Ned, you love the attention.”

  He brushed his dark wavy hair off his forehead. “Yes and no. I mean, it’s flattering, but also kind of, well, embarrassing. It’s just that she sort of sucks you in, and before you know it—”

  “You’re caught in her trap.”

  Ned winced. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Nancy stared at him for a long moment. She could understand how he felt, and the last thing she wanted to do was lower herself to Laura’s level.

  She took a step toward him and held out her hands. “I have a magic potion.”

  “What do you mean?” He stared at her.

  “If I touch you with my magic potion, you will be immune to flirts like Laura from this time forward.” She stepped closer and gently ran her hands over his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, his chin. Then she kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them to his mouth. “Now you are safe forever more.”

  He gazed into her eyes, then pulled her close in a fierce hug. “Nan, my Nan,” he whispered. “There’s no one in the world like you.”

  • • •

  At breakfast Nancy watched with amusement as Ned deliberately chose a seat far from Laura.

  She leaned forward to speak to him. “I can’t believe we’re opening tomorrow night! Ned, darling, you are going to watch dress rehearsal, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ll be there.”

  On the way to the Lodge, Ned had told Nancy and George that he had knocked on Joseph Brunner’s door the night before, but the playwright refused to let him in. This morning he would try again to gain Brunner’s confidence.

  “You must all come,” Marla gushed. “Liz has created some absolutely stunning gowns for Laura. And wait until you see Matt in his tux. Even in a wheelchair, he’ll be gorgeous.”

  Matt squirmed in his chair.

  George spoke up. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Nancy knew that George had made little progress in getting Fiona to talk. Still, she was determined to succeed now. The plan was that George and Ned would try to befriend the suspects and keep an eye out for any arson attempts.

  As the company was preparing to head for the Barn, Nancy said to the people getting up from her table, “I’ll join you in a while. I have some personal business to take care of first.”

  The few leads she’d had were turning into dead ends and she was hoping a thorough search of the compound would turn up something. Before breakfast, she’d taken Howie aside and questioned him about the previous afternoon when she and George had been out riding. From his vantage point in the box office, he’d seen Brunner leave the theater but swore he’d returned within five minutes. He also said he’d heard Marla in the office talking on the telephone, setting up the press conference. Like Evelyn, he was sure everyone else was in the theater the entire time.

  As soon as everyone left, Nancy set out. With Evelyn’s permission, she searched her house for kerosene cans or anything that could start another fire. She discovered an almost empty container of paint thinner in Evelyn’s basement.

  One by one, she searched the outbuildings. There was plenty of paint in the shed where the scenery was built, but it was all latex and not flammable. Next she checked the nearby woods but came across nothing.

  She was in one of the girls’ cabins, searching the closet, when the door opened.

  “Oh, there you are!” Marla said. “What are you doing?”

  Nancy was relieved that it wasn’t one of the crew members who had discovered her poking around where she didn’t belong. So far she’d been able to keep her investigation quiet.

  “I was searching for anything that might be used to start a fire,” Nancy explained.

  “Why don’t I help you?” Marla said eagerly. “I had to get away from the phones for a while. The press is calling from all over the country to ask about Matt’s injury. You can only repeat the same information fifty times before you start going bananas. Poor Liz—I’ve left her to deal with it for a while.”

  “Thanks,” Nancy said. “But I really don’t think—”

  “I’ve acted in more detective shows than you can count. I’d just love to help. Now, where shall I start?”

  Nancy was forced to accept Marla’s assistance. They worked their way through two cabins, finding nothing more exciting than piles of dirty laundry. No hidden cash or any other indication that someone had been bought off by Ferguson. She wasn’t disappointed, though, because she genuinely liked the crew and apprentices and didn’t want to think that any of them were involved.

  They moved on to other cabins. Matt’s was neat and tidy, Laura’s scattered with clothes and endless jars of makeup. Again they came up with nothing.

  In Fiona’s homey cabin, the walls were covered with framed movie posters, the bedspread and curtains were a cheerful red print, and a vase of fresh carnations stood on the bureau.

  Nancy noticed the edge of a letter sticking out from the blotter on the desk. The letterhead was Shannon Sweeney’s. Nancy unfolded the letter and read the elegant handwriting.

  Fiona, dear,

  Please don’t worry about the play. I can think of at least a dozen other actresses it could be based on. Yes, it uses some of the information you gave Brunner, but who will know those stories are true? I am not ashamed of falling in love with Jason in Rome. It was a fantastic, romantic time for both of us. Nor am I the only one who got a little carried away in Paris, although I suppose not everyone hijacks a boat on the Seine.

  The point is, honey, my escapades have helped my career. Many actresses are talented, but I was noticed. And as you know, that’s the name of the game. So please, keep our family’s famous Irish temper under control and don’t do anything rash. Let the play go on! I will survive it and so will you.

  I love you,

  Mom

  Marla had been reading over Nancy’s shoulder. “That Shannon Sweeney! She’ll do anything to attract attention. What a ham.”

  “Do you know her?” Nancy wondered why Fiona was still so furious with Joseph, in spite of this letter. Her anger must be very deep.

  “Know her?” Marla sounded scornful. “I did a play with her once and had to fight like the devil to keep her from upstaging me.”

  “Really?” Nancy kept her talking as they moved on to Joseph’s cabin.

  Joseph’s laptop was gone and scripts of Alias Angel Divine were piled on the table. Plenty of kindling for a fire, Nancy thought. The bed was unmade, shirts and ties hung from doorknobs, and damp towels had been dropped on the bathroom floor.

  “What a slob,” Marla pronounced. “You know, this is fun, poking into people’s private lives.”

  They found nothing of interest in the cabin and were about to leave when Nancy decided to check the closet again. In the back of the top shelf, behind a suitcase, was a script she’d noticed earlier. The label on the box said “Rough Draft.” Nancy had assumed it was Angel but now discovered it was a different play, one titled The Social Club.

  Nancy pulled down the box, opened it, and
read the first page, a summary of the plot. “This seems to be a play about arson.” She picked up the script. Beneath it was a jumble of assorted papers. “These look like research notes.”

  She gave a few to Marla, and they scanned through them. “Joseph Brunner sure has learned a lot about setting fires!” Marla exclaimed.

  Chapter

  Nine

  LOOK AT THIS.” Marla handed one of the papers to Nancy. “It explains how to turn a disposable lighter into a firebomb.” She hurried to the door. “I’m going to ask him about this right now.”

  “No, please don’t,” Nancy said. “Let me handle it.”

  “All right, I’ll tell him that you want to question him.” She opened the door.

  “Don’t say question. Just tell him I want to talk to him,” Nancy called as Marla hurried off.

  Nancy quickly stuffed the notes and script back in the box, returned it to the top shelf of the closet, and replaced the suitcase she’d moved earlier. Then she glanced around to make sure they had left nothing out of place in the cabin.

  She hurried outside, but Marla was already out of sight. Nancy ran down the path to catch up with her.

  Without warning she tripped over a root hidden by the snow. Sharp pain jolted her knee as it hit a rock.

  “Ouch!” She rubbed her knee. “Marla, wait for me!” she shouted, but heard no answer. She scrambled to her feet and set off, limping.

  She was too late. By the time she found Joseph and Marla in the greenroom, the playwright was furious.

  “You did what?” Brunner’s eyes bulged behind his thick glasses. “How dare you search my cabin?”

  “As I told you, we’re conducting an investigation, right, Nancy?” Marla turned as Nancy limped into the room. “What happened to you?”

  “I fell. What did you tell him?” Nancy demanded.

  “Well . . .” Marla began.

  Joseph cut in. “You have a lot of nerve searching my private belongings! You especially had no right to read that script!”

  “Evelyn gave me permission—” Nancy began.

  “I don’t care what Evelyn said! She thinks she’s queen of the hive, and she’s not! That was my writing, my creative child, and no one is allowed to see it without my permission!”

  “Look here, Brunner,” Marla said. “We are investigating a serious crime, and we have just proved that you know a great deal about arson.”

  Nancy groaned.

  “I have to know about arson, or how could I write a play about it? Research isn’t a crime!”

  “But setting malicious fires is,” Nancy said, giving in to Marla’s line of questioning. All the damage was done. “What do you know about the fire here in the greenroom, and the one that burned down the prop shed?”

  “Nothing! Are you implying that I—”

  Nancy tried to sound reasonable. “We’re simply asking—”

  “You break into my cabin and then you have the nerve to accuse me of arson?”

  “The door wasn’t locked,” Marla pointed out. “So we didn’t break in.”

  Nancy wished Marla would disappear. She was making the situation worse.

  “It’s an invasion of privacy!” He pounded his fist on the table. “I hope someone does burn down this dirty, drafty old pile of boards! It’s just what Evelyn Caldwell deserves!”

  He pushed past Marla and stormed out of the room.

  Marla grinned, but Nancy shook her head and sighed. Any hope of getting information from Joseph was gone now. Unless Ned could work miracles.

  The cast and crew began to file into the greenroom on a break, heading straight for the coffee maker.

  Nancy watched as George cornered Fiona. The technical director seemed tense and irritable, but George did manage to coax a smile from her.

  “Ned.” Nancy caught him as he came in the door. “Did you find out anything from Joseph this morning? I’m afraid Marla and I—”

  “Ned, darling, what do you think of this costume?” Laura, dark curls spilling down her back, appeared at his side. She wore a blue velvet gown, trimmed with lace at the neck and wrists. “I don’t like all this itchy lace.” She rubbed her slender throat.

  He studied the petite actress. “I think you look . . . uh, very nice.”

  “Excuse me, Laura, but I need to speak to Ned for a moment.” Nancy took him by the arm.

  “All right,” Laura said, frowning. “I wonder if Jill remembered to buy the herbal tea I asked her for.” She drifted over to the coffee table after leaving Ned with a charming smile.

  Nancy raised her eyebrows at Ned and he chuckled, giving her a brief hug. They went out into the hall, and she told him about the scene with Joseph. Ned reported that the playwright had been too preoccupied with rehearsal for them to talk. They agreed he should try to have lunch with Brunner.

  “That’s it, everyone,” Sherri announced a few minutes later. “Break is over. Places, please. Places for the top of scene three.” Cast and crew filed out into the hall, carrying their coffee cups.

  Nancy, Ned, and George sat near the back of the theater. Nancy told George about the search and the encounter with Joseph.

  The lights dimmed and rehearsal began.

  Laura flitted around the stage, plumping up cushions, adjusting pictures, and rearranging ornaments on the Christmas tree. The doorbell rang, and she opened the door for Matt. He handed her a large, gaily wrapped package.

  “Merry Christmas, Angel,” Matt said. “Am I forgiven?”

  Laura took the package and kissed him on the cheek. “Of course you are, sweetheart. It was a silly fight over nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it nothing.”

  Laura tossed the package on the couch and walked to the front of the stage. “Evelyn, I can’t work in this costume. It’s too tight across the back and this cheap lace is irritating my skin.”

  “I’ll have Liz fix it at lunchtime,” Evelyn said. “Let’s take it from the top of the scene. Matt, you’re offstage.”

  The rehearsal continued, but other problems arose. Joseph kept interrupting, objecting to Evelyn’s direction. The telephone rang too soon. A desk drawer was stuck. Matt’s wheelchair hit a table and knocked it over. Both he and Laura were so rattled they forgot lines they’d always known, and once Matt even jumped into the middle of another scene. Tempers rose with each mistake, but they stumbled through it somehow.

  Only Evelyn stayed calm, occasionally reminding them of the old theater maxim: Bad dress rehearsal, good opening. In other words, the worse the rehearsal, the better the performance.

  Everyone was glad to break for lunch, except Matt, who said he was too nervous to eat and sat in a chair near the fireplace. George and Fiona sat together at a small table in the dining area of the Lodge. Nancy could see that George’s manner was loosening Fiona up.

  Joseph asked the cook for a tray to take to his cabin. It was obvious he was still furious about the search.

  Naturally Laura chose a seat next to Ned. As the actress bombarded him with questions about her performance, Ned caught Nancy’s eye and surreptitiously winked.

  Nancy grinned, then concentrated on the case. If Joseph Brunner was the arsonist, why would he want to destroy his own play? She knew he disagreed with the way Evelyn was directing it. Maybe he wanted someone else to produce it instead.

  The more Nancy turned the idea over in her mind, the flimsier his motive seemed. If he wanted to, he could take the play somewhere else, couldn’t he? She would have to ask Evelyn about his right to withdraw it.

  Was there another motive? He obviously didn’t have a warm spot in his heart for Evelyn.

  Then there was Charles Ferguson. She had to find out more about the businessman.

  After the company left the Lodge at the end of lunch, Nancy met briefly with George and Ned. “How is it going with Fiona?” she asked George.

  “I didn’t find out much more than we already know. She’s very close to her mother, and she hates Joseph for betraying her. She keep
s saying she’ll get even with him, but I think it’s just talk. I like her, and I just don’t see her setting the Barn on fire. She loves this place.”

  “Plus, she has alibis for each accident,” Nancy commented before turning to Ned. “Would you drive me over to Ferguson’s house? I’ll use the excuse that we’re collecting Evelyn’s horses from his barn.”

  “I’ll come, too,” George said.

  “I need you to stay here and keep an eye on the Barn,” Nancy said. “And see if you can find a chance to question Brunner. I’ll ride Applause back and lead Bravo.”

  A short while later Ned drove the rental car into the driveway of the Ferguson mansion and parked by the barn. Through the open door they saw the sedan. The sports car was gone.

  “Before we go up to the house,” Nancy said, “I want to take another look at that car. It all happened so fast I only got a glimpse of it. But maybe I’ll recognize the grille or the headlights.”

  “You said the engine was warm, and in this weather it would cool quickly. So someone must have been driving it just before you arrived,” Ned surmised.

  “That’s right.” Nancy got out and walked to the front of Ferguson’s car. She studied it for a couple of minutes but couldn’t be sure it was the one. She couldn’t rule it out, either.

  They went around to the front of the house and knocked at the door. The housekeeper opened it and told them Ferguson was out.

  Nancy said she was there to pick up the horses, then added, “While we’re here, we wondered if we could take a quick look at Mr. Ferguson’s computer. The printer at the Barn is broken,” Nancy lied. “Ms. Caldwell wondered if we could borrow this one—only in case of an emergency, of course,” she added when she saw the housekeeper frown.

  “I don’t think Mr. Ferguson would be happy about that,” Hilda said, “but I guess it can’t hurt to let you take a look.”

  “He’s not too crazy about the Red Barn, is he?” Nancy smiled at her.

  Hilda led them into the study. “He’s his own man. What he likes, he likes, and what he doesn’t—watch out. I served him his beef too rare one night and heard about it for a week after.”