A Model Crime

by Carolyn Keene

  Bess was out of the shower and freshly dressed by five.

  “I’m positively famished, and the banquet doesn’t start for three hours,” she said. “Want to come with me to the coffee shop? I’ve got to eat something.”

  “Sure,” Nancy said, stretching and getting up.

  They left the room and went into the hall. “Watch out!” a voice called from behind a clothing rack moving up the hall.

  “Nancy!” Bess said as the rack rolled by her. “I bet those are the dresses we’re wearing tonight! Don’t you wish you could get a peek at them?”

  Pulling Nancy by the arm, Bess took off after the rolling rack. “Hi,” she said to the curly-haired boy pushing it. “Are those dresses from Smash?”

  “Eight Smash formals,” he answered with a grin. “They go to Suite Four-hundred-forty-four.”

  “That’s them!” Bess told Nancy as she hurried along after him. “Wait!” she called to the boy. “Would you mind if we took a look at them? We won’t be long.” The smile she gave the delivery boy was irresistible.

  Nancy wasn’t surprised when he stopped pushing the rack. “Sure,” he said, dazzled by her. “I’m early anyway.”

  “That’s so sweet of you,” Bess purred. She walked over to the rack and inspected the dress on one of the hangers. “Here’s mine!”

  Bess lifted a filmy sky-blue dress off the rack and held it out for Nancy to see. Like the others, the dress was covered in plastic that was easy to see through. Bess’s dress was absolutely gorgeous. The neckline was low and wide, the waist and hips fitted, and at the knee the skirt flared out in flouncy ruffles.

  “I adore it!” Bess said, taking the dress off the hanger and pretending to waltz.

  “Are you girls in the contest?” the delivery boy asked.

  Bess nodded modestly. “I am,” she said.

  Nancy flipped over a small tag around one of the hangers and pulled out a soft peach creation. “This one is Maggie’s,” she said, admiring the lovely silk dress.

  “Oh!” Bess cried. “It’ll be fantastic on her.”

  Putting Maggie’s formal back, Nancy held out a creamy satin dress with rhinestones dancing over the neck and shoulders. “Check this one out,” she said with a wry grin. “It’s for Heather Richards.”

  “Ugh,” snorted Bess. “It’ll look great on her, too.”

  “Here’s Natasha’s,” Nancy said, reaching for a forest-green velvet gown.

  “Are those ruffles on the front?” Bess asked.

  “I don’t know,” Nancy answered, lifting up the plastic to check it out.

  The answer was all too clear as soon as the cover was off the gown. The material was hanging in long, jagged shreds. Natasha’s designer creation had been slashed to pieces!

  Chapter

  Eight

  FINGERING THE SHREDDED REMAINS of Natasha’s gown, Nancy said, “She’ll never be able to wear this!”

  The delivery boy walked over to make his own inspection. “All I did was pick these up from Smash and bring them here,” he said.

  “Did you leave the gowns alone at any point?” Nancy asked the boy.

  He thought for a moment before clapping a hand to his forehead. “I had a message waiting for me when I got here,” he told Nancy. “It said to call my office immediately. I left the rack alone for about five minutes while I made the call. The funny thing was, no one at the office knew who had left that message!”

  Nancy nodded. The saboteur had struck again. And once again, no one had seen him—or her.

  “You’re not going to get in trouble over this, are you?” Bess asked the delivery boy.

  “No way,” he said. “My boss knows he can trust me. But I’d better phone and tell him there’s a problem.” He nodded and waved goodbye.

  Bess turned to Nancy. “What in the world is going on?”

  Nancy met Bess’s bewildered expression seriously. “I don’t know, Bess,” she said, guiding her friend into the elevator. “But I intend to find out.”

  “Sounds like a mystery to me,” Bess commented knowingly.

  “Excuse me. I understand you gave a message a while ago to the boy who was delivering dresses for the Face of the Year contest,” Nancy said to the young woman behind the counter in the lobby.

  The girl blinked. “So I did,” she said with a little laugh. “I remember the delivery boy because I was dying to get a peek at those gowns!”

  Nancy grinned. “I know what you mean. You don’t by any chance remember who left the message for him, do you? Was it a man or a woman?”

  “I really don’t. Sorry.”

  “Thanks anyway,” Nancy said. She turned to Bess. “Another dead end. Come on, I’ll fill you in while we eat.”

  “I’m really not hungry anymore,” Bess said as they took seats in a booth and opened their menus. “I mean, this contest is too weird.”

  “Hi. What can I get you?” asked a perky waitress who walked up to them with her pad open.

  Bess ordered a baked apple and tea. Nancy asked for an eclair. “Okay, Bess,” she began after the waitress had left, “as you know, funny things have been going on. For instance—”

  “Baked apple here.” The waitress had come back to the table and was setting down their order.

  “Thanks,” Nancy and Bess told her.

  Bess looked anxious. “For instance—what?” she said. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Nan! What do you suspect?”

  “All right,” Nancy said. “It started with that first accident by the lake.” As Bess listened raptly, Nancy filled her in on everything.

  When she was finished, Bess shook her head sadly. “Oh, Nancy,” she said, “what if—what if one of the models is trying to sabotage the contest? Someone like Heather Richards?”

  Nancy carefully forked a piece of eclair and popped it into her mouth. Heather’s hostility toward everyone in the contest made her an easy target of suspicion.

  Bess set her fork down and leaned in toward Nancy. “Well, you’ve got to admit that she hasn’t had the least little problem! Maggie Adams got dumped in the lake, Alison Williams got her hair frizzed, Natasha’s dress got shredded, I got a mud bath. Dear old Heather has just sailed through the contest making cracks about everybody else.”

  “I hear you, Bess,” Nancy said. “But remember, there are a few other girls who haven’t had anything bad happen to them either—Carey and Trudy and Diana.”

  “Nancy, Carey Harper is the sweetest girl in the world!” Bess protested. “As for Trudy and Diana—why, those girls wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

  “I’m not saying they would, Bess. I’m just trying to be logical. I’m not saying Heather isn’t a good suspect—she is. But she’s not the only one.”

  “I know it’s Heather,” Bess murmured.

  “What about Roger Harlan?” Nancy asked. She reached for her water and took a sip before going on. “I’m pretty sure that tie tack is his. What I can’t figure out is what his motive would be. I’m going to try to find out more about him tomorrow.”

  Just then the waitress appeared holding a pot of hot water. “More tea?” she asked.

  “Not for me. You can take this away, though,” Nancy said, pointing to her half-eaten eclair.

  “Was there something wrong with it?” the waitress asked.

  “No,” Nancy replied, surprised. “I’ve just had enough.”

  “I hate you, Drew,” Bess said. “I mean, ‘enough eclair.’ There’s no such thing!”

  “Just think about how great that size-four gown is going to look on you, Bess,” Nancy reasoned.

  “True, true.” Bess sighed and smiled. “And who knows, maybe it will be love at first sight for me and Ernest Mullins. Ernest Mullins and Bess Marvin. Hey! If we get married, I won’t even have to change my initials!”

  Nancy rolled her eyes. “It’s after six,” she said, glancing up at the sleek black clock over the cashier’s station. “You’d better go get ready.”

  “I know,” Bess said, standing up. �
��My new makeup routine takes an hour! Oh, Nancy,” she added with a sad sigh, “maybe we’re wrong. Maybe all these terrible incidents have just been accidents—a run of bad luck.”

  “Maybe.” In her heart, Nancy didn’t believe it, and neither, she knew, did Bess.

  “Guess what?” Maggie Adams greeted them as they stepped off the elevator. “Our dresses are here!” She was standing in the hall with Trudy, Carey, Diana, and Natasha.

  “Jackie told us to pick them up right away. So come on!” Trudy pulled Bess gently by the arm.

  “Wait till you see mine,” Natasha gushed in her melodious accent. “It’s the deepest and lushest forest green.”

  Bess and Nancy couldn’t help but exchange a quick glance. They said nothing as they walked into the Smash suite. Nancy had decided not to report what she knew about the dress so maybe she could learn something from people’s reactions.

  “This is so exciting!” Diana said, clapping her hands.

  “I know,” Carey added, beaming.

  Bettina’s assistant, Jackie, was standing next to the rack. “Here they are,” she announced. Nancy stepped back as Heather Richards walked into the room.

  “I see mine! I see mine!” Diana Amsterdam said, pointing to the first dress on the rack.

  “Ooooh!” the girls cooed as the assistant handed Diana her dress. It was pink silk with a single white rose embroidered on the front.

  “Maggie Adams?” the assistant asked.

  Beaming, Maggie stepped back from the rack and twirled around, holding her peach dress up to her lithe figure. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” she asked.

  “It’s beautiful,” Nancy answered, returning Maggie’s contagious smile.

  “Is Alison Williams here?” Jackie asked.

  A murmur swept through the group. “She’s still in her room,” Trudy said. “Maybe I can bring it to her.”

  “That’s okay,” announced a voice behind them. Alison Williams walked proudly into the suite and reached for a deep blue gown. On her head was a wig of lustrous, natural-looking hair. “Thank you.”

  Trudy Woo ran over and hugged Alison. “You look fantastic, Allie!”

  “Monique got it for me,” Alison explained.

  “Natasha?” Jackie called out.

  Nancy winced as the tall brunette stepped up to the rack. “I am here!” Natasha cried.

  Without looking at the gown she was holding, Jackie handed it to the model.

  “That’s a strange design,” Heather Richards said snidely as Natasha lifted the plastic to examine the dress more closely.

  “Oh, no!” Natasha gasped. “It’s ruined!”

  Everyone moaned—everyone except Heather, who ignored Natasha as she reached for her own gown.

  Obviously satisfied, the tall blonde took the creamy satin dress and sauntered out of the suite with it. The other contestants gathered around Natasha, trying to comfort her.

  “I’ll call Bettina right away,” Jackie said, picking up the phone.

  “I saw Thom Fortner in the hall a couple of minutes ago,” Alison said. “Maybe he can help.”

  Nancy walked to the door and peeked out. About thirty feet down the hall, Heather was showing Thom her ball gown.

  “There’s a problem,” Nancy announced. “Thom, could you come here a minute?”

  Thom looked up. “Excuse me, Heather,” he said. “Nothing serious, I hope,” he said to Nancy.

  “Well . . .” Nancy hedged. “You can judge for yourself.”

  The minute Thom stepped into the room, the other models swarmed around him.

  “Natasha’s dress is in shreds!” Carey Harper exclaimed, leading him over to Natasha, who was sitting in a chair, sobbing.

  “I just called Bettina. She’s on her way. There it is,” Jackie said, pointing to the dress that was draped over her desk. Thom bent over to inspect it as the girls crowded around him.

  Nancy stepped back out of the way. That was how she saw the small piece of paper that fell out of Thom’s pocket when he leaned over the desk to inspect the dress.

  “Do you have any idea how this happened?” he asked Natasha.

  “It wasn’t her fault,” Bess said quickly. “The dress was ruined when she got it off the rack!”

  Nancy edged over to the desk. Jackie was behind it, but she was watching Thom and the girls. Nancy kept her eyes on them, too, but she managed to knock over a pencil holder with her elbow.

  “Oh, sorry!” Nancy said as the pencils crashed to the floor. “I’ll pick them up.”

  No one was paying the least bit of attention to her as she squatted down. As she did, she deftly fingered open the paper Thom had dropped.

  I’ll miss you tonight. But remember, your first reward will be a trip to the Caribbean, with your new president, of course.

  With love,

  T.

  Chapter

  Nine

  NANCY QUICKLY PUT the note in her pocket and scrambled to her feet. T had to be a woman, she surmised. Only a woman would sign a note to a man “with love.” But who was she? And to what “new president” did the note refer? Nancy was certain the reference was not to politics.

  A voice at the door broke her concentration. “What is it this time?” Bettina Vasquez was walking into the room with a look of extreme irritation on her face.

  “You’re not going to like this,” Thom said, handing her the shredded dress.

  “Oh, dear,” the Elan executive said as she fingered the material. “Well, Natasha, I can get you another dress to wear tonight, but I’m afraid you won’t be in any of the shots.”

  “No!” Natasha protested. “But it wasn’t my fault!”

  “Sorry,” Bettina said, without a lot of feeling. “These gowns are each one of a kind. We simply can’t include one that’s not a Smash original.”

  Natasha’s lip trembled and her chin quivered, but she said nothing.

  “I can’t think who’d do this. It’s rotten,” Bettina said a little more softly. “But those are the breaks.”

  Nancy scowled. Personally, she could think of a few people who might have done it—Bettina Vasquez among them. How else could Bettina’s cool indifference be explained?

  “Now, girls”—Bettina turned to the others—“not a word about this to anyone. If the press got hold of this story, it would be the end of the Face of the Year contest. Understand?”

  Nancy couldn’t tell whether the contestants understood or not, but one thing was clear. All of them were terribly upset by the suspicious events surrounding their contest.

  • • •

  Over the next hour and a half they all tried hard to forget Natasha’s dress as they concentrated on getting ready for the banquet. The sounds of unhappy murmuring were gradually replaced by giggling as the girls dashed from room to room borrowing hair clips and perfume or sharing makeup tips. Bess and Nancy’s room had turned into a hub of activity.

  Natasha was there, wearing a simple mint-green dress she’d been given. Nancy couldn’t help thinking that even though she looked lovely in it, the new dress was no match for the color of the designer original.

  “Remember, Natasha,” Maggie Adams said as she helped Bess step into her filmy blue creation, “being out of just one shoot isn’t going to ruin your chances of winning the contest. That’s what Bettina told me when I couldn’t be in the ‘Welcome to Chicago’ shot.”

  “And I never made it into the sportswear shoot,” Bess added.

  “I missed the group shot of the makeover,” Alison Williams said.

  “Oh, I hope you’re right,” Natasha said with a sigh.

  “Girls! Girls!” Bettina called from the corridor. “I’m going downstairs to help set up, but I want you all to be in the lobby with Jackie by seven forty-five—sharp!”

  “It’s almost time to go!” Bess squealed as Maggie zipped up her gown. “How do I look, Nan?”

  “Great!” Nancy said, reaching for her camera. “Can I get a quick shot of you all?”

  “Sure!”<
br />
  All the girls beamed as they shrieked, “Cheese!”

  When Nancy put the camera down, Bess went to the bureau to pick up her white sequined bag and check her makeup one last time. “Oh, if only I looked like this every day,” she said.

  “Nobody looks like that every day, Bess,” Nancy replied with a smile.

  “Not even the most beautiful women in the world,” Maggie Adams agreed.

  “You know something? Being beautiful is really hard work,” Diana added with a giggle.

  “Let’s go, everyone!” Jackie called in from the hallway. “An elevator’s coming!”

  When Nancy and the others stepped into the corridor, they saw the rest of the contestants, who all began oohing and aahing over one another’s fabulous dresses. Even Nancy got a few compliments on her sleek black dress with rhinestone buttons that went down the back.

  “Where’s Heather?” Jackie asked.

  “She went down a few minutes ago,” Carey answered.

  Jackie shrugged, and the elevator doors swept open. Nancy waited for the girls to step in. Because of the full skirts on some of their gowns, the models took up more room than usual. The elevator was packed.

  “You go ahead. I’ll meet you downstairs,” Nancy called to Bess as the elevator doors were sliding shut.

  Nancy looked up at the floor indicator and noticed that the other elevators were all on high floors. She decided to take the stairs down the three flights from the fourth floor.

  As she headed down to the far end of the corridor where the door to the stairwell was located, her eyes widened in surprise. Bettina Vasquez was slipping furtively through the door marked Fire Stairs.

  Strange. Bettina had said she was going to the ballroom a little while ago.

  When the fire stairs door swung shut, Nancy ran over to it and listened. She could hear the sharp rap of Bettina’s heels as she ran down the stairs.