Todd took both Esme’s hands in his and stared deeply into her eyes. “Do you really love Giancarlo? Is there really no chance for us?”
Esme withdrew her hands and turned away from Todd. Nancy and Bess found themselves behind a palm tree, no more than ten feet away from the romance writer. Esme didn’t seem to notice them, however, and drew a tissue from the evening bag she was carrying to dab her eyes.
“No, there isn’t,” Esme said finally, her voice almost too low to hear. “At one point, I thought we could get back together, but it’s too late. We can be friends, but that’s all.”
Todd pulled Esme close to his chest. The embrace went on until Janine’s voice sounded through the crowded hall. “Before the evening is taken over by romance, I know Esme wants to share a few words with you. Esme?”
Todd released Esme, and Nancy saw that before Esme walked across the glittering dance floor toward the podium on the stage above the orchestra, she took a moment to compose herself. She touched up her lipstick and checked her makeup in the small compact she carried. A moment later, after a final squeeze of Todd’s hand, she strode confidently toward the podium.
“Do you think she still loves him?” Bess asked, motioning in the direction of Todd. The actor followed Esme with eyes full of longing.
“I’m not sure,” Nancy admitted. “But he really does seem hung up on her.”
Giancarlo appeared onstage beside Esme. The couple posed, and the bright flashes of photographers’ cameras filled the room for several minutes. Nancy found herself checking the door for some sign of Sam, wondering where he’d gone.
Suddenly a small backstage area to Esme’s right began to fill with smoke. Janine’s face registered surprise, but Esme had started speaking and clearly did not want to be interrupted.
“I want to thank you all for coming tonight,” Esme said, not noticing the smoke. “It means so much to me to share my love of romance with others, to bring joy and pleasure into this sometimes gray world of ours.”
The smoke was thicker now. Why was Esme continuing? Janine gave instructions to Giancarlo, who disappeared backstage.
“This isn’t supposed to happen, is it?” Bess asked. “It’s not a romantic effect or anything?”
“No,” Nancy said. “That’s real smoke, not dry ice.”
Right then the red curtains erupted into flame.
The audience started screaming, and, after calling to Esme, Janine hustled her off the stage.
Esme didn’t move fast enough. In the seconds it took for her to react, the fire moved from the curtains and onto her dress.
“Someone help her!” Nancy found herself crying. “Esme’s on fire!”
Chapter
Seven
ESME!” TODD CRIED OUT, racing toward the stage. “I’ll save you!”
The actor leapt onto the stage and wrapped his arms around Esme to beat out the flames.
Nancy, meanwhile, had also moved into action. While the frantic crowd screamed and pushed toward the exit, Nancy grabbed a fire extinguisher she spotted tucked into a corner beneath the stage. Then she climbed onto the stage and doused both Esme and Todd with blasts of foam. After that, she turned to the backstage area. Nancy didn’t stop shooting foam from the extinguisher until she was sure that the fire was completely out.
Nancy quickly traced the fire to a huge box of Valentine’s Day decorations stored beside the stage. Esme’s name was written on the box, along with a note that they were to be used for a Valentine’s Day bash to be held two evenings later.
After she was sure the fire was out, Nancy started to check the box of decorations to see if there was any evidence to indicate how the fire was set. But the smoke was still so thick that it filled the backstage area, making it difficult to breathe. She had to return to the stage to see how Todd and Esme were doing.
Soggy and wet, the actor and the romance writer stared at Nancy. “Whoever set that fire wanted to harm Esme,” Todd warned.
“I’m just glad you reacted so quickly,” Esme said. Todd offered Esme his arm. “Take me back to my room, please. This has been an awful day!”
Janine and Giancarlo came to the edge of the stage to look after Esme. While they all escorted Esme from the room, Nancy headed toward the backstage area. The smoke had cleared enough by now for her to investigate the box of decorations.
Careful not to disturb any evidence, Nancy used a nearby broom to stir the charred contents of the box. The air was thick with soot, and she coughed several times. After searching for several minutes, Nancy didn’t find anything. She was about to give up when a small, matchbooklike object caught her attention. Leaning in closer, Nancy spotted what could have been an incendiary device like the ones arsonists used—the ashy remains of some material tied around a slow-burning match.
“Bingo,” Nancy said aloud. “This fire was set intentionally.”
“And I think I know who did it,” a male voice added.
Nancy turned toward a winded Sam Fanelli, bent over and catching his breath. “I had the guy cornered in the parking lot, but he got away. Almost ran me down in his car, too!”
“What happened?” Nancy asked.
“I went to follow Kim,” Sam said. “Well, she led me on a wild-goose chase into the basement. You’ll never guess what’s under this hotel. Anyway, I got as far as the gym—”
“The gym!” Nancy said. “She left the party to go work out?”
“You got it,” Fanelli agreed. “But I lost her when she went into the women’s locker room. So I waited on the gym floor, but she didn’t show up. Finally, I decided to leave. On my way back here, I ran into some guy in a trench coat and a hat running as if there was no tomorrow. Naturally, I followed. He led me to the parking garage, but I lost him when he got into an elevator and took it to another level. Next thing I know, a car’s coming at me so fast I had to dive to avoid it. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the license plate. Sorry, kiddo. I don’t want you to think you’ve got a lame partner.”
“I don’t!” Nancy protested, resisting the urge to give Sam more reassurance. “Can we be sure it was Kim?”
“We can’t,” said Sam. “But she did disappear right then, and I was following her. Kim’s tall, and if she wore a trench coat and hat, I suppose she could pass for a man.”
Nancy let out a deep sigh. “If we confronted her, I doubt she’d tell us the truth. We’re just going to have to go on the suspicion that it could have been her.” Then she called Sam over to show him the device she spotted. “What do you think?” she asked, pointing to the charred matchstick.
“I think we’ve got an arsonist,” Sam agreed.
Terri, the hotel manager, came rushing backstage with firefighters in tow. The fire marshal agreed with Nancy’s assessment of arson. Nancy and Sam spent the next half hour answering his questions. Finally, they were free to go. Bess had gone to check on Esme after her ordeal. She came back to the ballroom just as Nancy and Sam were finishing up with the fire marshall.
The three walked through the now deserted ballroom, kicking up clouds of heart-shaped confetti.
“It’s so sad,” Bess said, surveying the aftermath of Esme’s masquerade ball. “Someone really is out to ruin Esme and destroy all the pleasure she gives to people. I hope we can stop this person, Nancy,” she said.
“I hope so, too,” Nancy said as they left.
After dropping Bess off at her house, Nancy and Sam parked in front of Nancy’s house and discussed the case for a long time. Sam agreed it was time to run background checks on Kim, Todd, and Janine, since they were the prime suspects: Kim because of the spider incident and because she disappeared into the hotel’s gym right before the fire was set. Todd because Nancy had the distinct impression that the actor couldn’t be trusted. And Janine because she had the opportunity to ruin the press room. Meanwhile, Nancy agreed to stick close to Esme. Someone needed to be on the scene when and if the harassment continued.
“We make a good team,” Sam said. “Between the two o
f us, we’ll have this guy cornered in no time.”
Nancy started to open the car door. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said.
“Hey, Nancy—” Sam began.
“What?” Nancy turned back to Sam and was utterly disarmed by the warmth of his brown eyes. His arm was over the back of her seat, and his hand lightly brushed her hair off her face.
“Nothing,” he said. Then he coughed and let his hand fall. Nancy still had the sensation of his touch on her face, and she didn’t want to admit to herself just how pleasant it was.
“See ya,” she said, finding her voice.
That night Nancy lay in bed with all sorts of confusing pictures in her head—of being in Sam’s arms, of feeling his fingers in her hair and on her cheek, of what it would be like to kiss him.
But she stopped, forcing herself to remember that she had a boyfriend, that Sam was older, that he probably didn’t like her anyway. That she’d never do anything to ruin things with Ned. At least she hoped she wouldn’t.
• • •
Friday morning Nancy picked Bess up at ten and zoomed over to the local television studios where Esme was doing a taping for a talk show. As soon as she got in the car, Bess asked Nancy about Sam.
“You’ve been hanging around Esme too much,” Nancy said. “There’s nothing between us.”
“Actually, I’ve got pretty good radar,” Bess scolded Nancy. “For example, I can always tell when a guy likes a girl. And believe me, Sam likes you.”
“Oh, Bess,” Nancy protested, “He’s several years older than I am, and besides, I’m in love with Ned.”
“That doesn’t stop you from having a crush on someone else,” Bess said, her eyebrows raised. She picked at a stray piece of lint on her cream wool coat and retied the multicolored scarf that held her hair back. “Esme says scarves are romantic. What do you think?”
Eager to change the subject, Nancy reassured her friend that she looked great, as usual. “Maybe you’ll get on camera,” she said.
“My thoughts exactly!” Bess announced. After they drove in silence for several minutes, Bess banged her head with the palm of her hand and said, “I can’t believe I forgot to show you this.” Bess handed over the front page of that day’s Today’s Times. Even as she drove, Nancy was able to see that one of the lead stories was by Brenda, reporting on Esme’s press conference. When they came to a stop light, Nancy skimmed the article. What she found surprised her.
“Brenda included the story about the black widow,” Nancy said. “But she wasn’t there.”
“She must have an inside source,” Bess said.
“Like Janine Halpern, for example,” Nancy concluded.
“Remember how chummy she was with Brenda at the press conference,” said Bess. “What if Janine is Brenda’s source? What if she’s the one who called Brenda in the first place, and got her to come to the book signing and ask Esme all those questions?”
The light turned green and Nancy accelerated through the intersection. “I’ve thought about that. Janine doesn’t mind the negative publicity, that’s for sure. But was she the one to set the fire last night or put the spider in Esme’s suitcase?”
Bess shivered. “She was close enough both times. If she did, she’s no friend of Esme. We should warn her about Janine.”
“We shouldn’t warn Esme about anything,” Nancy corrected Bess. “At least not until we’re sure ourselves.”
At the studio the taping was about to begin. The girls got as far as the entrance to the studio, where they saw Giancarlo. Esme’s husband spotted Nancy and Bess and gave them both a hearty greeting.
“Nancy! Bess!” he exclaimed. “I’m so glad to see you!”
With that, Giancarlo fell upon Nancy’s hand, putting it to his lips. “How can I ever thank you for not revealing our secret to Esme? Now that I know I can trust you, I want to tell you the truth. I was angry with Esme, very angry, for how she lost her temper with Kim earlier, and I wanted to make her jealous in return. She saw me passing the note to you, and it drove her mad! After the fire, we were able to settle our differences. She apologized to me and promised to apologize to Kim, too. So! You see what a favor you did us all.”
Giancarlo kissed Nancy’s hand, and then pecked her twice, once on each cheek. Nancy felt his whiskers brush her face, and saw, up close, how clear and blue his eyes really were.
“Thank you, cara. I’m sorry I could not tell you the whole truth last night.”
“I understand,” Nancy said, not at all sure that she did. Was Giancarlo telling her the truth now, or last night, or was the real story the one he wasn’t telling: that he really had intended to pass the note to Kim? And why did Giancarlo care so much about the fact that Esme was rude to Kim in the first place?
Bess was scribbling away in her notepad, and only raised her eyes when Giancarlo opened the door to the studio and ushered them both inside. There, Esme was sitting, all glamour and radiance in a fitted black velvet dress with gold and red trim. Her trademark pearls were at her ears, and a triple strand of pearls dangled around her neck. Her rich, dark hair was pulled back in a fashionable chignon, revealing her long, graceful neck. Giancarlo went immediately to his wife, took her in his arms, and kissed her passionately, much to the delight of the audience and Emily Wells, the show’s host.
“People, people,” she cried over the sound of applause, “we’re about to start. Let’s keep it down until the cameras are rolling, okay?”
Nancy and Bess took seats next to Janine. As the publicist leaned forward to greet them, Nancy was surprised to see Brenda Carlton seated on the other side of Janine.
“Hi, Nancy,” she said, waving smugly. “Hi, Bess!”
“Great,” said Bess under her breath. “Who invited the world’s biggest big mouth?”
“I have one guess,” Nancy whispered into Bess’s ear. “And I’m sitting right next to her.”
The show started taping, and even Nancy found herself caught up in the excitement. Members of the audience stood and thanked Esme for the thrill and excitement her books had brought to their lives. One by one, Esme answered their questions: Yes, she tries to write as much as possible from direct experience. No, she never had a steamy affair with Prince Haroun. As for the rumor that she was once secretly married to the famous recluse Ted Stephens, Esme had only one reply. “You’ll just have to buy my autobiography,” she said, her green eyes sparkling mischievously, “and read about it there!”
After a short break Emily Wells began fielding phone calls on the air from their listening audience. Esme had taken two or three calls, all flattering and full of requests that Esme verify some bit of rumor or gossip. Then a caller came on the line whose voice sounded strange and distorted, and Nancy’s ears pricked up. Unless she was wrong, the caller was using a voice disguiser.
“Admit it, Esme,” the caller pressed, “you haven’t really done all those things you claim. You’ve never been to Nepal or the Middle East. I’ll bet you never even met Ted Stephens. In fact, I think everything about you is a lie.”
“Hold on!” Emily Wells shouted, her face red with anger. “What right do you have to insult our guest like that?”
“Yeah, who are you?” an audience member cried out.
“I’m a friend,” the caller announced in the same creepy electronic voice. “A friend of the Black Widow.”
Both Nancy and Bess gasped. Their harasser was on the line! From the pallor of Esme’s face, Nancy saw that the romance writer had come to the same conclusion.
“Why don’t you tell us who you are?” Nancy cried out. “What kind of coward hides behind a mask?”
“I’ll reveal myself soon enough,” the caller said. Then, with a dull hum, the line went dead.
Chapter
Eight
THE TALK SHOW AUDIENCE reacted in an uproar. Emily Wells quickly cut to a commercial, while Esme, her face white and her hands trembling, fell into Giancarlo’s arms. Beyond Janine, Bren-da was furiously scribbling away. In frust
ration, Nancy realized that once again they were powerless to stop whoever was harassing Esme.
“Maybe the person will call back,” Bess said hopefully.
“I doubt it,” said Nancy.
By now, the show was back on the air. Emily Wells addressed the camera and spoke earnestly. “Harassment of the kind we just witnessed is terrible. If this is the price of Esme’s fame, then it’s a horrible price. I’m sure you all join me in wishing Esme only the best. Our thoughts are with you, Esme. We love you!”
The audience burst out in another round of applause. As the show wrapped up, Esme’s smile was forced and strained. She stood with her arm around Giancarlo, waving to her loyal fans. “Thank you!” she cried. “Thank you for your support!”
As soon as the cameras stopped filming, Giancarlo led Esme out of the studio. Nancy didn’t have a chance to go over what had just happened with the romance writer, but she could find Esme at the Barrington later if they needed to discuss the case. Meanwhile Nancy’s careful eye noticed that Kim Scott was nowhere to be seen. Had Esme’s assistant missed the taping entirely? Could she have made the call?
Janine was talking to Emily Wells. Since the publicist was busy, Brenda rushed over to Nancy instead, and started throwing questions at her.
“What do you know about that caller?” Brenda asked. “Is Esme being stalked? Is someone out to ruin her reputation or her career? Was that the same person who put the spider in Esme’s suitcase?”
“How did you find out about that, Brenda?” Nancy asked, her eyes narrowing on the reporter.
Startled, Brenda’s eyes flitted around the room. “I don’t have to reveal my sources,” she said defensively.
“But you do need to have more than one to verify a story,” Bess reminded her. “I took a journalism class, too, you know.”
“Did the same person who sent you to the Barrington tell you about the spider?” Nancy asked.
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