“No, thank you,” Nancy said. Just looking at food made her think of Bess, who was constantly dieting to lose the same five pounds.
“Come on,” the officer said, pulling a cheeseburger from the bag. “You two have been crawling through every nook and cranny of this place for hours. You’ve got to eat.”
“He’s right,” George said, taking a burger from the bag and unwrapping it. “We’re not going to help Bess by starving.”
Nancy absently took the bag from the officer, then handed it to George, who took out a bag of fries and began eating.
“Have you found your friend?” a male voice asked.
They turned around to see Nicholas standing behind them, a concerned look on his dark face.
“No, I’m afraid not,” Nancy answered. “We’ve searched all evening, and the police are convinced that Bess isn’t here. They’re giving up the search for the night.”
“And how about you, Nancy?” Nicholas said, sitting down behind her. “Are you convinced that she isn’t here?”
Nancy turned in her seat to face him. “Not at all. I’m sure she is here. There were too many people in and around the theater for them to get out of here. And no matter how much we’ve searched, there are still hundreds of cubbyholes in this old place that we haven’t checked yet. This has got to be the best hiding place in town.
“Did you find your grandfather?” Nancy asked, changing the subject. Although her tone was casual, her blue eyes were searching Nicholas’s face intently. He loved the theater, and he wanted to preserve his great-grandfather’s and grandfather’s art. Did he kidnap Bess?
Nicholas glanced away nervously. “I sure did,” he said. “You know, I was worried for nothing. He was home all the time.”
“Did the police question you?” Nancy asked.
“Yeah. When I got back, but I just told them I was outside protesting when she was taken. They’ll check on my story, they said. I had lots of witnesses.”
“How come your grandfather didn’t answer the phone?” George wanted to know.
“He didn’t hear the phone ringing because he was out in his studio.”
“Your great-grandfather and grandfather did beautiful plasterwork.” Nancy pointed to the embossed designs that framed the stage and the ceiling. Cherubs with trumpets in their hands flew on either side of the red velvet curtains.
“They don’t build places like this anymore,” Nicholas said sadly. “Artists like my grandfather aren’t interested in the work, and even if they were, no one would pay them to do it. People don’t want beauty and glamour anymore. Guys like Bart Anderson are only out for money.”
They heard the side door of the theater open. Turning to see who it was, Nancy saw a large, beefy man with a bulldog face push his way past Joseph, who had opened the door.
“Speak of the devil and he’ll appear,” Nicholas muttered under his breath. “That’s Bart Anderson himself.”
The man walked straight over to Nicholas. Without glancing at Nancy or George, he stood and glowered at Nicholas, his hands on his thick waist.
“Just what do you think you’re trying to pull, Falcone?” Anderson demanded.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nicholas answered, meeting Anderson’s look.
“The police called and told me that some idiot has kidnapped a young woman and won’t let her go until we promise not to demolish the theater.”
“That’s right,” Nancy interrupted. “And that young woman is my friend, Bess Marvin. She’s still missing.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry about your friend,” Anderson said with a feeble attempt at sympathy. “But I’m not going to have my project jeopardized.” He pointed to Nicholas with a jerk of his thumb. “Not by any crackpot or committee of do-gooders organized against me. This place is coming down on schedule, one month from today. And that’s final.”
“Mr. Anderson,” Nicholas said, emphasizing the Mr. “No one on my committee had anything to do with this kidnapping. We wouldn’t use your kind of tactics!”
Anderson ignored him and turned back to Nancy. “This building is coming down,” he said. “But you don’t have to worry about your friend. These clowns might be stupid enough to grab her, but I doubt that they’d actually hurt her.”
“When it’s my friend’s life or anyone’s life at stake, I’m not willing to take that risk,” Nancy said.
Anderson gave Nancy one final glare, then turned on his heels and stormed out of the auditorium. A couple of minutes later Nicholas followed him out.
“Okay, George,” Nancy said, standing and crumpling what remained of her burger and wrapper. “Let’s make one last search.”
Half an hour later the two friends were going through the leading lady’s dressing room.
“We’ll just check this room one more time,” Nancy said. “If we don’t find anything, we’ll go home for the night.”
Nancy pulled the cushions off the sofa and ran her hands between the folds in the upholstery. George was on her hands and knees combing the floor.
“I found something jammed in the back of the sofa!” Nancy shouted. “Take a look.” She held out a black ski mask with red trim around the eyes and mouth.
George shuddered. “Now we know for sure that he or she did bring Bess in here,” she said. “But that doesn’t take us any closer to finding her, does it?”
“I suppose not,” Nancy said quietly, obviously thinking about something else.
“What is it, Nan? Something’s bothering you.”
“The mask. How could we have missed it earlier? I don’t think we did. I think someone planted it so we’d find it. Someone wants us to know Bess is still here.”
“But who, Nancy?” George asked, her voice strained and high. In her hand she was clutching the ski mask, a menacing reminder of their missing friend.
“It could have been Mueller—since the kidnapper was probably after Brady and not Bess. He could have done it as a publicity stunt.”
“And he doesn’t have an alibi. Deirdre says he wasn’t with them during the time of the kidnapping.”
“Exactly,” Nancy said. “And then there’s Nicholas. He loves this theater, and maybe he saw the kidnapping as a way of saving it.”
“Maybe, but I can’t believe it could be Nicholas. He seems so concerned about Bess.”
Nancy shook her head. “That could be a cover-up. Still, he was outside picketing the whole time. Unless he left for some reason. We’ll have to check it out.”
They had reached the lobby. Joseph was in his office still. Nancy wondered briefly if he lived at the theater as she raised a hand to wave goodbye.
George was just about to push through the door when it swung in, almost knocking her down.
“I’m glad I found you,” Nicholas said.
From the look on his face, Nancy knew he had bad news.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“It’s Bart Anderson,” Nicholas said. “While you were searching again, he and I had a little ‘chat’ in front of the theater.”
“And?” Nancy asked, pushing him to continue.
“And he got so mad at me that he’s moved up the date,” Nicholas said.
“What date?” George wanted to know.
“He’s going to tear the theater down in three days!”
Chapter
Five
IT’S BEEN twenty-four hours since Bess was kidnapped, and we still don’t know anything,” Nancy said in desperation. “We’re running out of time. Something’s got to give.”
“How could Bart Anderson do this?” George said, dusting her jeans. “He can’t tear this building down when Bess is still inside!”
“Maybe he’s trying to pressure the police into stepping up the investigation and finding Bess,” Nancy suggested. “I don’t know. Maybe he knows something we don’t know. It could be a ploy.”
“You mean he kidnapped Bess, and he’s using this whole thing as a way of getting the building torn down faste
r?” George asked.
Nancy ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t know what to think, George. I feel so frustrated and helpless. I can’t think logically with Bess missing. I know I should be checking out our suspects, but I keep thinking that Bess is here and we’ve got to find her.”
“But maybe the police are right, Nan. Maybe Bess isn’t here,” George said gently.
“She’s here,” Nancy replied. “It just doesn’t make sense to me that the kidnapper would take her out of the theater if he wants to guarantee that it doesn’t get torn down. I’m staying here until they call off the demolition. But if we don’t find proof, we’re lost and the demolition won’t be called off.”
Just then footsteps and low voices sounded. Nancy and George turned to watch Bart Anderson’s men trooping through the auditorium. Nancy had been seeing the crew off and on all day as they studied the building, deciding where to place their dynamite charges.
This time Bart Anderson himself was with them.
“I’ll be back in a minute, George.” Nancy stood up and hurried over to him. They met in front of the stage. “Can I have a word with you, Mr. Anderson?” she asked.
“I’m busy now,” he answered. “This is important, and—”
“What I have to say is important, too,” Nancy said politely but firmly.
“All right” He glanced at the heavy gold watch on his wrist. “You’ve got four minutes.”
“Are you really going to go through with the demolition in three days? Even when a young woman’s life is in danger?” Nancy fought with herself to keep the anger out of her voice.
He scowled down at her. “Look around you, Ms. Drew,” he said sarcastically, pointing to his crew. “These men are specialists. They’re paid by the hour. I wouldn’t have them here if I didn’t mean to bring this place down on schedule.”
“But my friend is still here in the building,” Nancy said, trying to control her feelings of frustration and rage.
“The police don’t think so,” he answered offhandedly. “And that’s enough for me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Anderson moved away from Nancy, but she followed him.
“What about the kidnapper’s threat?” she asked determinedly.
Anderson turned to face Nancy. He shrugged. “I told you yesterday that it’s pretty obvious to me who took her—Falcone or a member of that stupid committee of his. They’re crazy, but they aren’t murderers. As soon as this place is leveled, they’ll realize they’ve lost, and then they’ll let her go.”
“I wish I could be as sure of that as you seem to be,” Nancy said, her voice rising. “To be honest, Mr. Anderson, I don’t think you care what happens to Bess, as long as your project goes on uninterrupted.”
Anderson lifted a bushy eyebrow. “Oh, is that so?”
“I’m afraid it is. Your new entertainment complex is more important than a girl’s life!”
“Hey, what’s going on in here?” Nancy turned to see Detective Ryan entering the auditorium. Behind him were Nicholas Falcone and Joseph Hughes. “We could hear you two all the way out into the lobby,” the detective said.
“Nancy was only trying to reason with Mr. Anderson.” George had come up to them and was defending her friend.
“You aren’t really going to let him tear this building down after what the kidnapper said, are you?” Nancy asked Ryan as he walked down the aisle toward them. “Isn’t there something you can do?”
Nancy knew Ryan didn’t like Bart Anderson or what he was doing. He sympathetically placed a hand on Nancy’s shoulder.
“There’s not enough evidence to prove that Bess is in the theater,” he said as gently as possible. “Unless we come up with something soon, we have to allow the demolition to proceed. Either way, it’s late. I say we all get a good night’s sleep and make a fresh start in the morning.”
Nancy looked at George and knew she was thinking the same thing. They had to come up with proof that Bess was still in the theater—and fast.
• • •
The group gathered around the fireplace in the Drews’ living room later that evening wasn’t a happy one. Nancy, George, Carson Drew, and Hannah Gruen, the Drews’ housekeeper, sat on the sofa.
“I just can’t believe this has happened to Bess,” Hannah said as she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “You’ve got to find her.”
“We will, Hannah.” Nancy put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “She’ll be all right. She has to be.”
“It’s too bad you can’t tell Bess’s parents,” Hannah said, looking across the room at the telephone.
“I know,” Nancy answered. “Of all the times for them to be touring Africa.” Her father had tried to reach the Marvins since Bess disappeared, but they were unreachable.
Mr. Drew walked over to the fireplace and held his hands out to the blaze. He was feeling chilled even though it wasn’t cold in the house or outside.
Nancy watched her father and knew he was thinking how he’d feel if it had been his own daughter who was kidnapped.
She stopped herself thinking those thoughts. It wasn’t the time to let her imagination or emotions take hold. The only thing she could do for Bess was to solve the case and find her.
“Dad, what do you know about Nicholas Falcone?” she asked.
“I’ve never met him, but I know his grandfather Louis Falcone. We’ve served together on the building preservation committee.” Carson turned and looked at her curiously. “Why?”
“It’s possible Nicholas may be behind the kidnapping. He loves that old theater, and I think he’d do almost anything to save it.”
“Who else do you have on that mental list of yours, Nancy?” Mr. Drew asked, his handsome face drawn in concentration.
“There’s Simon Mueller. I think we told you about him, Brady’s and Deirdre’s manager,” she said. She explained to Hannah and her father how Mueller had used the kidnapping for publicity.
“I know,” Carson said. “I saw today’s headlines in the papers. But do you think that’s motivation enough to do something as serious as kidnapping?”
“Your dad’s got a point there, Nan,” George said.
“I don’t know,” Nancy went on. “I don’t trust Bart Anderson, either, but he doesn’t really have anything to gain from the kidnapping. Except that the demolition is now happening sooner.”
“Hmm,” Carson Drew said as he sat down in a leather wingback chair. He looked very tired. “I’m familiar with Anderson’s dealings here in River Heights. He sometimes operates in the gray area of the law, but I’ve never known him to cross the line into illegal activity.”
Nancy was about to ask her father what else he knew about Anderson when the doorbell rang.
“Who could that be at this hour?” Hannah asked, hurrying into the entrance hall.
“I’ll get it, Hannah,” Nancy said, following her.
When Hannah opened the door, they saw a young man standing on the porch with a wreath of flowers in his hands.
“Hi, I’m from Blossoms and Bows Florist Shop,” he said. He wore a sheepish, confused look on his freckled face. “I’m supposed to deliver this to a Nancy Drew.”
Nancy stepped forward to receive the flowers. A cold shock washed over her when she realized they were no ordinary bouquet.
“This is a funeral wreath!” she said. “Who sent this?” she asked, her voice tight with tension.
“I don’t know,” the boy said. “There was an envelope shoved under the shop door. It had some money in it and instructions about what kind of wreath to send, where, and when. I had to take it home with me and deliver it tonight.”
“Look, Nancy,” Hannah said. “There’s a card with it, too.” She pointed to a dark purple envelope that stuck up from the middle of the wreath.
Nancy plucked the card from the flowers and ripped the envelope open.
Everyone leaned over her shoulder as Nancy read the big block letters out loud.
I don’t want to hurt the girl.
But if the Royal Palladium dies, she will be killed, too.
The next morning Nancy couldn’t stop thinking about that funeral wreath as she and George made their way past a small group of teenagers who had come to the theater hoping to catch a glimpse of their beloved Brady.
Nancy quickly scanned the line of picketers to her right, and she saw that Nicholas wasn’t with them this morning.
Could he have sent that wreath? He had to be her number-one suspect because he had the strongest motive. But then, too, Simon Mueller had had the studio eliminate two stops on his stars’ tour so they could remain in River Heights longer to capitalize on the publicity.
The security guard who was posted at the door allowed the girls to pass without question. He recognized them from the day before. As they entered the lobby, they saw Joseph Hughes polishing the brass handrail on the staircase up to the balcony.
Nancy’s heart went out to him. The building was scheduled to be torn down in two days, but he was still giving the place its usual care.
“Good morning, Joseph,” she said.
He looked up from his work. “Good morning, young ladies,” he said. “Heard anything new about Bess?”
“No,” George replied. “We were hoping maybe you had.”
“Not a thing. I slept in the office all night. Hoped maybe that fellow would call again and I could talk him into letting her go. But nobody called or came by.”
“Thanks for staying, Joseph,” Nancy said. “You’re a good friend.”
Nancy was about to look for Detective Ryan when Joseph stopped her with a raised hand.
“You know, I can’t believe it, but I almost forgot to give you this.” He reached into his pocket. “Last night when I was vacuuming in the leading lady’s dressing room I found something on the floor. I don’t know if it belongs to Bess or not.”
He pulled something out of his pocket that caught the light and glistened like a miniature chandelier.
George gasped. “Oh, Nancy!” she said. “It’s Bess’s rhinestone earring!”
Chapter