A Model Crime

by Carolyn Keene

  Eddie scratched his head. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Everything else is here.”

  The picture may have shown the culprit setting up the paint-spraying contraption, Nancy thought.

  “Here’s the guy who can tell us where it is,” Eddie said.

  Nancy turned her head and saw Bogorofsky walk in. “Hello, everyone,” he said. “I come to look at the results.”

  “Mr. Bogorofsky, we’re missing one of the candids you took at the fountain,” Eddie said. Bogorofsky shook his head in disgust. “I can’t print another. The negatives are missing. The second robbery I’ve had this week! This is ridiculous!”

  Nancy had heard enough, so she made for the exit.

  She raced through the lobby and hopped into a cab. The sooner she reached Kelly, the better.

  Kelly had taken all sorts of candid shots for Teen Scene on the day of the fountain shoot. If they were lucky, one of those shots would reveal the same secret as the missing photo.

  “I need your help, Kelly,” Nancy told her at the Teen Scene offices. “Those candids you took at Buckingham Fountain?”

  “What about them?” Kelly asked.

  Nancy explained about the missing photo while Kelly started searching through her drawers. “They were right here,” the reporter murmured.

  Nancy held her breath. Was it possible the culprit had gotten there first?

  “Eureka!” At last Kelly pulled out a large manila envelope marked “Face of the Year.” “I don’t know if you’ll find anything here, though,” she confessed. “All I have are shots of the girls standing around before the shoot. After that purple stuff came out of the fountain I didn’t take any more.”

  “That’s just what I’m looking for.” Kelly opened the envelope and spread the proof sheets out. Each eight-by-ten sheet contained thirty-two one-inch pictures.

  “Here, Nancy,” Kelly said, pulling a magnifying glass from her top drawer. “You’ll need this.”

  Nancy peered through the glass at the tiny black and white glossies. There was Alison joking around with Bess and Natasha. There was Bogorofsky yelling at one of the lighting men. There was Heather stepping to the front pedestal. And behind her, in the back of the fountain . . .

  “There! See that?” Nancy said, taking a pencil and pointing to the corner of the photo.

  “What is that, a bush?” Kelly asked.

  Nancy handed Kelly the magnifying glass.

  “It’s a person!” Kelly exclaimed.

  “He’s crouching behind the fountain,” Nancy added. “Right where I found the paint can.”

  “But who could it be?” Kelly looked up from the photo.

  Nancy’s heart soared in triumph. “Who wears a coat with a fur collar?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. “Nobody from the lighting crew, that’s for sure.”

  The answer hit Kelly just as Nancy said it out loud.

  “Thom Fortner!”

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  KELLY STARED AT NANCY in total shock. “You’re absolutely right,” Kelly said. “That is his coat.”

  “Don’t you see, Kelly? It makes perfect sense!” Nancy picked up the proof sheet and sank down on a director’s chair. “Thom Fortner had the opportunity to do a lot of damage during this contest,” she murmured.

  “He even had access to the beauty salon,” Kelly noted.

  “The sawed-through railing, the broken ring at the exercise station,” Nancy went on. “He was at all those places.”

  “But why would Thom Fortner want to sabotage his own project?” Kelly asked. “It doesn’t make sense! The Face of the Year contest is big business, and it’s his baby.”

  Nancy put a hand on her face and rubbed her eyes. An image flashed into her mind of Thom Fortner riding the escalator at Marshall Field’s with a woman—a woman who looked familiar. . . .

  Opening her eyes wide, Nancy exclaimed, “I know the answer to that question, Kelly! And her name is Trina Evans!”

  “Trina Evans, the head of Let’s Go?” Kelly’s eyes widened.

  “Remember the note Thom dropped?” Nancy asked. “It was signed T, and it mentioned a ‘new president.’ That note was from Trina Evans—she’s his new president!”

  “Wow,” said Kelly, leaning back in her chair to take it all in.

  “I even saw them together,” Nancy said.

  “I read an article where Trina blasted the Face of the Year contest,” Kelly tossed in.

  “Right! Because it looked like it was going to be a major success for Smash. But Trina must have decided to get someone inside the contest to sabotage it—someone like Thom Fortner. Then the whole contest would backfire on Smash.”

  Nancy stood up and pressed her lips together. “Kelly,” she said, “lock up these proof sheets and the negatives. They’re our best bit of hard evidence.”

  “They won’t go anywhere, don’t worry. Hey!” Kelly exclaimed, glancing at her watch and standing up. “Speaking of Smash, I’ve got to be over there in ten minutes to vote,” she said.

  “See you tonight, then,” Nancy said. “It’s going to be quite an evening, if I’m not mistaken.”

  • • •

  Nancy hurried back to the hotel, where she ran into Bess in the lobby.

  “Just think, Nancy,” Bess said excitedly. “At this very moment the judges are all up at Smash voting for Face of the Year. I can hardly wait till tonight!”

  “Bess,” Nancy replied, lightly grasping her friend by the arm, “come on up to our room. I want to tell you something.”

  “You’ve solved the case! Tell me, tell me!”

  Nancy waited until they were in their suite with the door closed before she told Bess her theory about Thom’s motive for sabotaging the contest.

  “It sounds good, Nancy,” Bess admitted. “But like you always say, where’s the proof? The note he dropped isn’t much evidence. And you said you couldn’t see his face in those pictures.”

  “Right, but I think I know where we might be able to find a lot more,” Nancy said slowly. “Do you know where I can find Heather?”

  “Heather!” Bess exclaimed in surprise. “I forgot all about her. She should be in her room. We were all told to be back at the hotel.”

  “Thanks, Bess.” Nancy headed for the door.

  “Nan, be careful,” Bess said.

  “I’m always careful,” Nancy promised, slipping out and heading for Heather’s room.

  “Hello?” Heather called out in response to Nancy’s knock.

  “It’s Nancy Drew. Can I come in for a minute?”

  Heather pulled the door open. “I’m getting ready for tonight,” she said.

  “I won’t take a lot of your time,” Nancy promised. “But I need Thom Fortner’s briefcase. And I want you to help me get it.”

  “What do you want Thom’s briefcase for? And why should I help you?” Heather flopped into a chair.

  “I think you’ll want to, when you know what’s in it for you.”

  Intrigued, Heather arched one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Go on,” she said.

  “If you help, and if Teen Scene breaks the story of what was really going on in this contest, you’ll get some great publicity—enough publicity to bury your past for good.”

  Heather took Nancy in with her catlike golden eyes. “What if Teen Scene doesn’t break the story?”

  “Kelly Conroy is helping me investigate,” Nancy said. “She’ll break the story. I promise.”

  Heather appeared thoughtful before speaking. “Forget it,” she said. “I don’t want anybody mad at me.”

  “Suit yourself,” said Nancy, stepping to the door. “But if you change your mind, look me up. I’ll be in the audience tonight.”

  “Nancy!” Bess said excitedly when Nancy went back to her room. “Call Kelly right away. She’s waiting at a pay phone.”

  “Hi,” came Kelly’s voice. Sounds of the street filtered into the phone.

  “What’s up?” Nancy asked.

/>   “I was just up at Smash for the voting,” Kelly explained. “Me, Thom, Bettina, Monique, Roger Harlan—”

  “And?” Nancy asked.

  “And when we were finished, Thom counted the votes and announced that Heather Richards had won.”

  “Oh,” said Nancy, a little deflated.

  “But,” Kelly added, “when Thom put the votes into his briefcase, I could swear he was trying to hide something. Everybody left, including me, but I had a funny feeling about the results. I sneaked back inside. The pads we had written on were still on the table.”

  “And?” Nancy asked.

  “And, Nancy, I could read the indentations on the pads. I could read who everyone had voted for. And guess what? Heather didn’t win at all!”

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  LISTEN, KELLY, did anyone see what you did?” Nancy asked anxiously.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Good. I think there’s something we can do about this. Tonight,” Nancy stressed. “Meet me in my room before the ceremony so we can go over what to do next. And keep those pads—they’re hard evidence!”

  • • •

  “Well, Nancy, how do I look?” Bess stepped away from the mirror and spun around for Nancy’s benefit. The soft pink dress, off one shoulder, was perfect on her.

  “Bess, you look fabulous,” Nancy told her.

  “Oh, if I win this contest I’ll be the happiest girl in the entire universe!” Bess promised.

  A knock on the door interrupted her. “Bess?” Maggie called from the other side. “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I can be,” Bess said with a giggle, pulling the door open. “Come on, Nancy.”

  “You go on ahead,” Nancy said. “Kelly’s stopping by for me.”

  “Okay,” Bess said. She practically floated out of the suite.

  Nancy waited only a few minutes before Kelly showed up. “Good. You’re here,” Nancy said. “Now here’s the plan. We’re going to put on a little performance of our own tonight—and you’re going to steal the show.”

  • • •

  Thom Fortner stood up from the table where he was sitting with the other judges. He walked over to the podium, followed by Kelly, who handed him a sealed envelope. “All right, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced. “This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for.”

  “Nobody more than me, Thom,” Nancy murmured under her breath. “Nobody more than me.

  Thom signaled the band leader, and the drummer began a low drumroll. Up on the stage behind Thom and Kelly sat the eight contestants. All the girls sat open-eyed, waiting for the announcement that could change their lives. Heather already wore a triumphant grin.

  “This afternoon,” Thom said as the drum rolled under his voice, “the judges faced a terrible task. They had to choose just one young lady out of these eight very special contestants to be the Face of the Year. And the young lady that they chose is”—he ripped open the envelope—“Ms.—”

  Kelly Conroy reached out, snatched the paper from Thom’s hand, looked at it, and, before Thom could react, shouted, “Maggie Adams!”

  The audience erupted into a huge cheer, the band broke into a jubilant song, and Maggie rose to her feet, beaming. Nancy noticed that Monique was clapping especially hard.

  Heather flew out of her chair and screeched at Thom, “You liar!” She shook her fist. “This whole contest is a sham! I was supposed to win! You promised!”

  “Why did he promise you you’d win, Heather?” Nancy called from her place near the front.

  “Stop this! Stop this, please!” Monique stood up and threw her napkin down while Bettina covered her mouth to mask her laugh.

  “Because he wanted to shut me up. I saw him cut the railing on the pier. I also know that Trina Evans is hiring him. He’s leaving Smash to work for Let’s Go the minute this contest is over.”

  Shocked, Monique turned to Thom. “Is this true, Thom?” she gasped. Then she said, “Don’t say a word. I can see by your face that it is. How could you?” The owner of Elan, the most powerful starmaker in the modeling world, sank back in her chair and cried like a little girl. Next to her, Bettina sat, stunned.

  The press was having a field day. Flashes went off all around.

  Thom Fortner, who’d been standing with his mouth hanging open, finally recovered. “She’s lying!” he shouted, pointing at Heather.

  “Then why don’t you show us what’s in your briefcase, Thom?” Nancy called out. Silence fell as all eyes turned toward the public relations director.

  “Young lady, you are not a part of this contest! Get her out of here!” Thom shouted.

  “She’s my friend! I invited her here!” Bess cried. “You know, I bet you’re the creep who wrote her that threatening note!”

  “He also planted Roger Harlan’s tie tack at the scene of the first accident to make it look like Roger was sabotaging the contest,” Nancy added.

  “What nonsense!” Thom reacted with a bitter laugh. “You have no proof, none at all!” He reached under the podium for his briefcase. Before he could grab it, though, a fist crashed into his jaw.

  “That’s for trying to implicate me,” snarled Roger Harlan. He grabbed the briefcase and tossed it to Nancy. Inside was everything Nancy needed to back up her accusation of Thom. The passkey was there, the photo of Thom tampering with the fountain, and the original ballots proclaiming Maggie the winner. A defeated Thom Fortner stood rubbing his jaw.

  “I think you’d better find yourself a good attorney,” Nancy told him. “You may be in for the Lawsuit of the Year.”

  • • •

  “I’m so happy for you,” Bess said to Maggie the next morning. She and Nancy were standing in the lobby, waiting for Nancy’s car to be brought out front.

  “I only wish we all could have won,” Maggie said, smiling warmly at Bess.

  Roger Harlan walked over to the three girls. “Next time you’re in Chicago, look me up,” he told Bess and Nancy. Then he looked at Maggie. Nancy could feel the electricity that crackled between them. “I hope I’ll be seeing more of you, too,” he added softly. Maggie glowed.

  “Well, I’m sure we’ll see both of your faces all the time,” said Bess. “And if you’re in New York or Paris or Rome, we just might look you up there!”

  “Your car, miss.” The doorman tapped Nancy on the shoulder.

  “This is really goodbye,” Nancy said, giving Maggie a quick hug and reaching out to shake Roger’s hand. “Come on, Bess.”

  Bess waved to Maggie and started walking to the door. “It’s funny. I just met them a few days ago, but I’m really going to miss them.”

  Nancy and Bess stepped to the car as a hotel employee handed Nancy her keys.

  A porter who’d carried their bags to the car banged the trunk lid shut. “You’re all set,” he said.

  Nancy thanked him and pulled the car out of the driveway.

  “Oh, well, that’s the end of that,” Bess said, taking something out of her handbag and unwrapping it. “Want a Danish, Nancy? I have two. I got them from the hotel dining room this morning.”

  Nancy glanced at the pastry in her friend’s hand. “Maybe later,” she said. “I’m still stuffed from breakfast.”

  “I figured, why let good food go to waste?” Bess said, opening her mouth to take a big bite.

  “You mean the food will go to your waist, don’t you?” Nancy asked with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Oh, be quiet,” Bess said. “You know, Nancy, I’m glad I didn’t win that contest.”

  Nancy’s jaw dropped open. “I can’t believe my ears! You are?”

  Bess swallowed another bite of Danish. “Yes. Do you realize the pressure a model is under? She always has to look good. If she gets a pimple or gains five pounds, it’s an absolute disaster! I mean, the whole world of modeling is so fake! A person like Heather can come off really beautiful just because of lighting and makeup, and—”

  “And perfect features and a devasta
ting figure,” Nancy finished for her with a smile.

  “True, she does have those,” Bess said. “But she’s not really beautiful. Not like Maggie. Not inside, where it counts.

  “I really learned a lot this week, Nancy. I mean, Maggie may be the Face of the Year,” Bess said, “but you’re the detective of the decade—and the best friend of the century!”

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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