Model Crime

by Carolyn Keene

  Eberhart just shrugged. “Take five, everyone,” he called out, signaling for the cameras to stop rolling. He pointed to Mr. Bushy Eyebrows. “Butch, start setting up for the Egyptian sequence.” As the cameraman nodded and strolled off toward the pyramid, the director turned toward Vic, Bo, and Dragon. “Boys, why don’t you get dressed for that bit now? We can return to the Hawaiian business later.”

  Bo clapped Vic on the back. “Come on, bro,” he said. “You heard the man. Let’s get suited up pharaoh-style.”

  Vic looked vaguely mutinous for a moment as he stared after Sydney. Then he shrugged and sighed. “Fine,” he said. Shooting a worried look at Akinyi, he added, “Call me if Syd needs me, okay?”

  “Whatever.” Akinyi, too, was staring anxiously after Sydney. “I’d better go check on her.”

  “Tell her I’ll be right there, as soon as I give a piece of my mind to whoever was in charge of that lei,” Ellie said grimly.

  Her words snapped me back to the reality of the situation. Either River Heights had just been inflicted with a freak plague of biting ants…or the saboteur had struck again.

  “I’m going to try to get a look at that lei,” I whispered to Bess and George.

  Bess nodded, glancing anxiously in the direction of the locker rooms. “Need our help?”

  “Nope. Go check on Syd. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  Bess and George hurried off. Eberhart had stepped forward to intercept Ellie, who was now ranting furiously at him. Just about everyone else was sort of drifting off, seeming uncertain what to do next.

  I made a beeline for the fake beach. The wooden box was still standing open in the sand. Bending down, I saw that it was crawling with ants.

  As I took a step backward, not wanting to risk getting bitten myself, I almost bumped into Donald. “Oh, man,” he exclaimed as he took a peek into the box, looking distressed. “I can’t believe this. Poor Sydney!”

  “I’m sure she’ll be okay,” I said automatically, more interested in looking around for the remains of the lei than in chatting with the PA. “And I’m sure it was just an unfortunate accident.”

  “It was no accident. I’m responsible!”

  I blinked, glancing over at him. He’d straightened his thin shoulders, a grim look on his face.

  “Huh?” I said. “Are you saying you put those ants on the lei?”

  “Of course not!” Donald sounded insulted. “But I shouldn’t have just left it sitting around unattended, where anyone could tamper with it.” He shot a dark glance across the field.

  Following his gaze, I saw Vic just disappearing into a trailer parked at the edge of the field. No one else was nearby, leading me to believe that the PA’s gaze was definitely directed at the groom-to-be. Hmm, interesting…

  Before I could fully process that, I realized that Donald was already gathering up the torn pieces of the white lei. For a second I almost told Donald why I wanted to look it over. But I decided against it. It seemed pretty unlikely that examining the lei would provide any useful clues to how the ants had gotten there.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “I think I’ll go check on Sydney.”

  Leaving Donald muttering self-incriminations under his breath, I headed across the field to the locker room that was serving as a dressing room for Sydney and the other women on the set. I knocked and entered.

  Sydney was sitting on a narrow bench in front of a mirror, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a tissue. Akinyi, Deb, Candy, Bess, and George were all there too. Apparently Candy had found some bathrobes, because not only was Sydney now wrapped in one, but Candy was, too.

  “Did they figure out where those icky things came from?” Candy demanded as soon as I entered, wrapping her arms around herself. The robe was a little big for her, so only her fingertips stuck out the ends of the sleeves. She shuddered from within the depths of the terry cloth. “I can’t believe this happened. I hate bugs! If those things had been all over me, I would have died!”

  Akinyi was slumped on a bench over by the sinks, still wearing her grass skirt and lei. “Okay, we get it,” she said to Candy. “You’ve told us how much you hate bugs. This is about Syd, not you, remember?”

  “Well, excuse me for having a phobia, Miss Perfect!” Candy huffed.

  “Guys…” Bess began soothingly.

  Deb looked up from her seat beside Sydney. She was still applying cream to Sydney’s arm, pushing back the voluminous sleeve of the robe to do so.

  “Oh, now, I know everyone’s upset and all. But I’m sure it was just one of those things,” she said in her cheerful way. “Everything will be all right.”

  Sydney sniffled. “I’m not so sure,” she said, staring at her own red-eyed reflection in the mirror. “It was bad enough when my wedding was turning into a circus with this TV stuff. But now it’s turning into a horror show!”

  “There you go,” Deb said, not seeming to be paying much attention to Sydney’s words as she dabbed one last bit of cream on the back of her hand. “Now, let’s get your face fixed up. Luckily you only got a couple of bites there—I’m sure we can cover those with makeup.”

  Just then a sharp whistle came from somewhere outside. “Sounds like they’re starting the filming again,” Candy said. “I’ll go see what’s happening. Somehow I don’t think any of us are going to be ready for our close-ups anytime soon.”

  Akinyi shrugged. “I’ll come with you.”

  George stared after them as they left together. “Wow,” she said. “It’s hard to tell whether those two are mad at each other or not.”

  Sydney smiled weakly. “Oh, they’re always like that,” she said. Glancing at Deb, she added, “My makeup kit is out by the wardrobe trailer. Would you mind getting it?”

  “You betcha,” Deb said cheerfully, hurrying out.

  As soon as she was gone, Sydney spun to face me. “Nancy, you’ve got to help me before everything is ruined!” she exclaimed. “I can’t wait to marry Vic and spend the rest of my life with him. But if this wedding is going to be a disaster, I’d rather just elope and be done with it!”

  “Hey, why not?” George put in brightly. “Eloping can be super romantic! All the excitement and I-do stuff without any of the lame speeches and bad dancing…”

  “And bridesmaid dresses?” Bess put in, glaring at her. “You’re not helping, George.”

  Sydney hardly seemed to hear them. She was still staring at me. “I just can’t take this,” she said. “It’s not fair. I thought I was finished being scared after—”

  “Here we are!” Deb sang out, rushing back in clutching a large metal box. A young woman I didn’t know was right behind her. “And here’s your makeup girl to work on your face.”

  I felt like grabbing Deb and the makeup artist and shoving them both back out the door. What had Sydney been about to say? Something in her eyes had suddenly reminded me of that weird moment at her house the other day when she’d told me about those threatening e-mails. Could there be something more to those, something she hadn’t told me?

  If so, it seemed she wasn’t going to get the chance to fill me in anytime soon. Akinyi had just come back in as well, announcing that the boys were already filming the first part of the Egyptian traditions scene. Whatever that weird little moment had been, it was lost.

  A little while later we were all out watching Vic, Bo, and Dragon clown around with some fake swords near the pyramid as the special effects director prepared for the next scene. Well, most of us were watching, anyway. Candy had developed a migraine and gone to lie down somewhere, and Ellie and Deb were in the dressing room helping Sydney get dressed and made up.

  I found myself standing beside Akinyi, who was now dressed in her Egyptian costume. She looked stunning in it, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the worried crease in her brow.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said. “It’s so unfair for poor Sydney.”

  I nodded, flashing back to my earlier speculation. Could Akinyi possibly be a suspec
t? “Yes,” I agreed. “Things aren’t going very well with her wedding so far.”

  “I know, the poor thing!” Akinyi shook her head. “I only hope she still doesn’t have those hives for the big day. It’s only a week away now, and everyone knows how sensitive her skin is.”

  “Really?” I said. “She’s that sensitive, huh? I had no idea.”

  “Oh, yes, she’s famous for it,” Akinyi said. “She couldn’t finish this one shoot last year because the foundation she was supposed to be showing made her break out.” Just then there was a loud whoosh from nearby and Akinyi jumped, her eyes going wide as she clutched at her heart. “Oh, please. This is all too much!” she exclaimed. “Syd never should have agreed to get mixed up with this crazy show. Or even if she did, I should have known better than to get myself involved!”

  I glanced over. The sound had been caused by a member of the special effects crew lighting a sort of blowtorch thing. They proceeded to use it to set the sword Bo was holding ablaze. He let out a cry of triumph and held the flaming sword aloft, waving it around over his head as the guy with the blowtorch headed for Dragon, who held out his own sword eagerly.

  Akinyi was still moaning and griping, and I turned back to her, tut-tutting along as sympathetically as I could. However, I was feeling a little impatient. It would be a lot easier to get information out of Akinyi if she wasn’t quite so quick to freak out over every little thing!

  A sudden shriek jostled me out of such thoughts, making me jump right along with Akinyi. We both spun around as there was a flurry of shouts and exclamations. My eyes widened as I took in the scene.

  Vic’s hair was on fire!

  FIRED UP

  “Out of the way!” someone bellowed. “I’ve got him!” It was Butch, the bushy-browed cameraman. He dropped his camera and came barreling toward Vic, who was standing stock-still, seemingly in shock as the tips of his huge mass of black hair blazed.

  Butch grabbed Vic around the waist. With three big steps, he was at the stock tank. He dunked Vic into the water headfirst.

  All around, people were shouting and running around helplessly. But I relaxed as I saw a gush of steam come up from the water.

  A moment later Butch yanked Vic up again by the scruff of the neck. Vic came up sputtering and coughing.

  “It’s okay,” the cameraman said, his moment of gallant action fading back into his usual gruff demeanor. “Fire’s out.”

  He dropped Vic, who staggered and almost fell. But he caught himself and cautiously raised one hand to his head, as if wondering if it was still there.

  “You all right, dude?” Bo shouted, racing over and pounding him on the back. “Did your head get burned?”

  Pandora, too, rushed to Vic’s side. “Oh, Vic!” she cried. “What happened?”

  “Yes, what happened?” Eberhart said sternly.

  The director glared at the special-effects guys as several paramedics rushed over and pushed Vic’s friends out of their way. I’d vaguely noticed them earlier—George had said something about Daredevils always traveling with its own set of medics due to the risky nature of the stunts on the show. I was starting to see her point.

  “Oh, oh,” Akinyi was moaning, both hands covering her mouth as she stared at Vic in wide-eyed horror.

  Leaving her to her meltdown, I hurried over to Bess and George, who were watching in shock nearby. “Whoa,” George breathed as I joined them. “Did you see that?”

  “Lucky that camera guy was so quick to react,” Bess said. “Lucky Vic has so much hair, too. I think the fire was out before it even had a chance to reach his scalp.” She glanced over at Vic, now completely surrounded by paramedics, and bit her lip. “I hope so, anyway,” she added softly.

  “How did the fire start?” I asked. “I was looking away when it happened.”

  George shrugged. “Not sure,” she said. “The guy lit Vic’s sword, and when he started waving it around like the other guys, the flames just seemed to jump right into his hair.”

  Meanwhile the special effects director was talking to Eberhart. “It shouldn’t have happened,” the guy insisted, seeming shaken. “I’m telling you, we followed all the safety procedures. It shouldn’t have happened!”

  “But it did,” Eberhart barked at him. “And I want to know why.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, more to myself than my friends. “You and me both.”

  Vic was incredibly lucky. He ended up with some first-degree burns on his head, face, and arms, but nothing more. Of course, his hair was another story. It was going to be a while before he’d be able to sport his trademark long spikes again. But all things considered, that didn’t seem like a very big deal. The paramedics wanted to send him to the hospital just in case, but Vic refused to go.

  “I didn’t go to the hospital when I fell halfway down the St. Louis Arch during Daredevils,” he boasted, already back to at least eighty percent of his usual bravado. “And I’m not going for this!”

  Bo clapped him on the back. “Way to be, bro!”

  Meanwhile the special-effects guys, one of the paramedics, and a few other members of the crew were huddled nearby. They’d clipped off a charred bit of Vic’s hair to examine in search of answers to what had happened. Finally the main special effects guy marched over to Eberhart, looking grim.

  “We’ve figured it out,” he announced. He jabbed a finger toward Vic. “He used the wrong hair gel! We told you everyone had to stick to water-based products for this stunt, but there’s definitely traces of that flammable goop he usually uses.”

  Vic overheard and hurried over. “Yo, I used that new water-based stuff,” he said. “I remember, because the whole time I was getting ready I was thinking it wasn’t as lame as I expected—worked just as well as my usual stuff, actually. Even smelled the same.”

  “Are you wacked, dude?” Dragon snorted, touching his own carefully coiffed, though much shorter, spikes. “That water-based junk stank like flowers or something. Almost made me gag!”

  Pandora smiled. “Aw, I thought it smelled great,” she said. “Much better than that petroleum nightmare Vic’s always slathering all over his head.”

  Vic looked confused. “I didn’t smell flowers. But I’m sure I used the new stuff. Light blue jar, right?”

  “That’s the stuff,” a woman called out. “I put a fresh jar on everyone’s dressing table as soon as we set up this morning.”

  “Are you certain you didn’t grab your old gel by mistake?” Eberhart asked Vic.

  “Positive, man!” Vic insisted, wincing as a paramedic came over to dab something on one of his burns. “I didn’t even see the other tube on the table.”

  Eberhart pointed to Donald, who was hovering near the back of the crowd. “Go check Vic’s dressing table,” he ordered. “See what hair gel is there.”

  “Yes, sir,” Donald said, scurrying off.

  “Why are they blaming Vic for this, anyway?” George wondered aloud to me and Bess. “I thought all these TV people had people to do their hair and makeup.”

  Pandora was close enough to overhear. “Not Vic!” she said with a laugh, glancing at us. “He’s fine with other people dealing with his face and wardrobe. But his hair is his baby—he always does that himself.”

  “I’m telling you guys, I used the right gel!” Vic was still protesting as several other people started talking at once. “I’m not a total idiot, you know!”

  “We know, dude. But this wouldn’t be the first time you got so ADD-distracted in the middle of a shoot that you mixed things up.” Bo chortled and shot a look at Pandora. “Hey, remember the time we were supposed to eat those fish heads in Alaska, and he got himself so psyched up that he ate the fish-shaped piece of cardboard the camera people stuck on the plate to check the lighting?”

  Pandora laughed. “Yeah. And what about when we were supposed to ride that zip line across the Grand Canyon? Good thing someone noticed he’d grabbed the wrong gloves before his turn came, or he’d probably be splattered all over the bo
ttom of the Colorado River right now.”

  The stories seemed to lighten the mood a bit. Several members of the crew piped in with anecdotes of their own, and soon even Vic was laughing.

  But I wasn’t paying much attention to the stories. I was much more focused on this latest disaster. Sure, it was possible that this was an innocent mistake, that Vic had grabbed the wrong hair gel without noticing. But given everything else that had been happening lately, I wasn’t counting on it.

  Soon Donald came running back, accompanied by a couple of young women who appeared to be part of the makeup crew. “We searched everywhere!” Donald said breathlessly. “Vic’s usual hair gel isn’t anywhere in the dressing rooms.”

  “See? Told you!” Vic exclaimed.

  “Wait!” Donald waved his hands. “That’s not all—there’s a jar of the water-based stuff on Vic’s table. But it’s still sealed. Nobody’s used it.”

  Vic’s triumphant expression changed to one of confusion. “What are you talking about?” he said. “Of course I used it. This doesn’t just happen, you know.” He raised one hand to touch his spikes, though he looked crestfallen when he remembered they weren’t there anymore. “Anyway, I definitely used something in a blue jar to do my hair.”

  Pandora shrugged. “Maybe he used Dragon’s jar.”

  “No way.” Dragon shook his head. “Mine was sealed when Jana opened it to do my hair. After she was done, I accidentally knocked it off the table and the jar broke, so we tossed it.”

  Bo ran a hand over his blond buzz cut, which was way to short too require any sort of styling product. “Well, he certainly didn’t borrow mine,” he joked.

  Vic smiled weakly. “Whatever,” he said. “Maybe someone tossed mine, too.”

  “Or maybe someone tossed your tube of Fabulous and Flammable,” Pandora put in.

  Vic scowled at her. “I’m telling you, I used the right gel!”

  Pandora raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Chill, dude. It was a joke. Did the fire burn away your sense of humor, too?”