Unexpected contact

“Okay, I thought Syd and Vic’s wedding was nonstop action,” George told Bess and me a few days later as we piled into my kitchen after seeing a movie. “But that was the most action I’ve ever seen crammed into two hours.”

“Definitely,” I agreed. “When they blew up that trailer?”

“Or when that lion showed up?” Bess added, shaking her head. “He was hungry. ”

I sighed, happily settling down at our kitchen table. It felt so nice not to have to worry about dresses, or shoes, or fittings, or cameras, or threatening messages. Syd and Vic had left for their honeymoon on a remote Caribbean island the day before, and their silence seemed to indicate they were having a perfectly normal honeymoon.

“What’s going on with Pandora?” George asked, finding some chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar, freshly baked by our housekeeper and unofficial caretaker, Hannah.

“She’s still being held by the police,” I replied. I’d called the RHPD for an update just that morning. “They’re testing some of the evidence they found in her room for fingerprints, DNA, that sort of thing. She still insists those printouts, the raincoat, and the shaving cream were not hers.”

Bess shuddered. “She seemed so harmless and spacey all week,” she commented. “Scary to know how dangerous she really was.”

“Nancy?” I looked up and spotted Hannah standing in the kitchen doorway, pulling the vacuum cleaner behind her. “Did you see you have mail? It’s on the counter.”

I sprung up. “Anything important?” I asked. “Or is it something boring, like my cell phone bill?”

Hannah smiled. “It’s postmarked from London,” she replied. “And it was sent express mail. Who do you know in London?”

I glanced at Bess and George, honestly confused. “I have no idea,” I replied.

Getting up and walking over to the counter, I found a thick, business-size envelope addressed to “NANCY DREW” in messy, all-caps handwriting. Sure enough, the return address was a Thistle Kensington Gardens hotel in London. Curious, I tore open the envelope and pulled out a thick stack of paper with a sticky note on top:

Here are some things you should know. The wrong person is in jail. The crook is still out there! you have to do something. Sincerely,

A concerned citizen

“Whoa,” I breathed, as Bess and George got up to peer over my shoulder.

“Wasn’t Daredevils starting out its season in London?” Bess asked.

“I think you’re right,” George confirmed. “So Dragon would be there — and most of the crew we worked with.”

Peeling off the sticky note, I turned my attention to the papers beneath. The first seemed to be a photocopied page of a contract — upon further inspection, it seemed to be the contract Daredevils contestants signed that outlined the rules and regulations they must follow to compete in the show.

One section in particular had been highlighted in orange marker:

“No contestant shall have any current or prior connection to anyone involved in the production of Daredevils. This includes producers, crew members, employees of the FUN television network…” I paused, breathing in. “…or prior contestants.” I gave a meaningful look to my friends, who seemed to get it immediately.

“Dragon and Pandora,” Bess whispered.

I nodded, reading on. “If producers or crew members become aware of any such association during the filming of Daredevils, the contestants involved will be ejected from the show, and any monies paid to the contestant, either in the form of winnings or appearance fees, will be returned to the production company.”

George whistled. “So if Dragon and Pandora made their relationship public, they’d both lose a bunch of money. Whatever they received for appearing on the show, plus any money Pandora won.”

Bess nodded. “And Dragon would be kicked off this season,” she added. “Which is kind of a big deal, since he’s favored to win.”

I flipped through the papers, turning to the next page, and gasped. It was a printout of a typed page titled “Traditional Wedding Blessing.” Scanning the paragraph, I picked up on bits and pieces: “The officiant then waves the knife over the couple’s heads, chanting… the knife must be very sharp, symbolizing the threats the couple will face to their union…”

At the top of the page was a handwritten note:

Pandora — would make a great scene if you could perform this on the couple after the ceremony!

My jaw dropped. The handwriting was identical to the handwritten notes in the margins of the printout the producers had found in her room!

I heard Bess breathe in sharply behind me. “You know what this means, don’t you?” Bess asked.

I nodded, slowly putting the papers back down on the counter. “Pandora was set up,” I replied. “And Dragon wants us to know about it.”

Just then a musical beep sounded from my purse on the table. I glanced at my friends. It had to be my phone — and the tone of the beep told me it was an e-mail.

I walked over to the table, pulled out my phone, and sucked in a breath as I flipped it open.

YOU HAVE 1 NEW E-MAIL FROM SYDNEY VALDEZ.

I pushed the buttons to open it.

SOS. NANCY, I NEED THE THREE OF YOU HERE NOW!

IT’S NOT OVER!

There were four attachments, which I opened one by one. The first three were e-tickets — one each for George, Bess, and I to join Syd and Vic on their semiprivate island.

The final attachment was a photo. It showed what must have once been a beautiful hotel room — now totally trashed. Wrecked furniture — so battered and broken, it looked like it had been bashed into the walls — was piled around an unmade bed, with torn bedding strewn everywhere. On the bottom sheet, scrawled in a red liquid that looked like blood, was a chilling message:

Enjoy being newlyweds. You won’t both be alive for long!

On the bottom of the message there was a messy red smear. I pointed, my stomach clenching nervously. “What is that?” I whispered to my friends.

George blinked, shaking her head as it came to her. “It’s a silhouette,” she breathed. “For Mr. Silhouette.”

Gulping, I leaned in. I could see it now: the dark profile, eyes, nose, mouth. “Syd’s stalker.” I shivered.

“Oh my gosh,” whispered Bess. “I guess we’re headed for the Caribbean! Because Mr. Silhouette is still on the prowl.”

George stared at the photo, nodding grimly. “And he’s upped his game,” she pointed out. “From saboteur — to murderer. ”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Дата добавления: 2017-01-14