038 The Final Scene (3 page)

N
ANCY AND
G
EORGE
hurried across the marble lobby accompanied by very loud movie music. It sounded like a chase scene before the intermission when Brady and Deirdre were to be introduced quickly.

Who was the figure in the ski mask? Why did he kidnap Bess? Nancy wondered. Was he really after Brady, or did he settle for her friend?

“Nancy,” George stopped short before they reached the office. “You don’t think he’d hurt her or anything, do you?”

Nancy pushed the thought away. It wouldn’t do Bess any good for her to panic. If she was going to help her friend, she needed a clear head.

“No way, George,” Nancy said firmly. “Besides, we’re going to find her before anything could happen.”

From the auditorium, they could hear the music swell one last time, then wild applause sounded and finally the crowd chanted, “Brady! Bra-dy!”

“It sounds like his fans have finally gotten the chance to meet their hometown idol,” George said with the shadow of a smile. “Too bad Bess is missing this.”

The two friends opened the door to the manager’s office. They heard Simon Mueller in the inner office, talking on the phone. Nancy heard enough through the half-open door to know that he was talking to someone from an international press agency, telling them about the attempted kidnapping of his hottest star. A moment later he dialed another number, arranging with the Tudor Hotel for Brady and Deirdre to stay on through the weekend.

“What do you think he’s up to?” George asked in a whisper.

“My instincts tell me that Simon Mueller
has figured out that this kidnapping is a golden opportunity for publicity.”

“That’s right,” Mueller was talking to yet another person. “It’s just like I told you. Your paper will love the story. Local boy, teen heartthrob, nearly gets kidnapped and comes this close”—Simon held his index finger and thumb together as if the reporter were in the room with him—“to catching the guy who took another hostage. He feels so bad about it, he’s going to stay in town the whole weekend just to help find the guy.”

“Nan, you’re right. Why else talk to the press?” George asked, sitting down in a chair beside the desk.

Nancy lifted the phone and used the free outside line to call her friend Detective Ryan. As quickly and efficiently as possible she filled him in on the details of Bess’s kidnapping.

“He’ll be right over,” she told George as she replaced the receiver.

Both George and Nancy jumped just then as the door to the office was opened and Nicholas Falcone burst into the room. Locks of his dark, wavy chestnut hair were sticking out from his head and there was a wild look in his amber eyes. Despite his youth—it couldn’t have been more than a year since he graduated from college—Nancy knew that Nicholas’s energy
was what made him so good at getting people stirred up to fight for a cause.

“What’s happened?” he demanded. “I just met Joseph Hughes in the lobby, and he said something about a missing girl. Something about a kidnapping?”

“That’s right,” Nancy answered. “A guy in a ski mask tried to nab Brady Armstrong, but he got our friend Bess instead.”

Nicholas slammed his fist down on the desk. “It figures that something like this would happen here, in this theater. As if the place didn’t have problems enough of its own without this.”

“Excuse me, but it is my friend whose life is in danger,” Nancy replied dryly, thinking that Falcone’s concern for the building was just a little misplaced.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his dark eyes reflecting his remorse. “It’s just that we’re trying to save the theater from being torn down, you know.”

“We know,” George spoke up. “I mean, I’ve seen your picture in the paper, and we know about Bart Anderson.”

“Anderson! When I think of what he’ll do to this place.” A fiery light appeared in Nicholas’s eyes again. “My great-grandfather and my grandfather, as a young apprentice, helped to
build this theater. Most of the ornate plaster-work on the ceilings and around the stage is theirs. I can’t bear to think of it all being destroyed.”

“I don’t blame you,” Nancy said, her feelings toward him softening. “I hope you win your fight.”

“And I hope your friend is found safe,” Nicholas answered.

Nancy was about to thank him when Simon Mueller came out of the inner office. He looked awfully pleased with himself, and Nancy found herself resenting him. One of her best friends had been kidnapped, and this man was using her misfortune to promote his star.

“Any word yet?” Mueller asked.

“No. But the police are on their way,” Nancy answered as she headed to the door. “I’m going to start looking for Bess. If the two of you,” she said, indicating Falcone and Mueller, “want to join us, we could use the help. After all, that person in the ski mask was trying to kidnap your star.”

“I . . . ah . . . have things to do here,” Simon said. “I’m expecting several phone calls, and—”

“I’ll help,” Nicholas said, “but first I have to try to call my grandfather again. He was supposed to meet me here, and I’m a little
worried that he hasn’t shown up. I tried to reach him, but there’s no answer.”

“I’m sure Joseph wouldn’t mind if you want to use this phone,” George said to Nicholas. “We’ll meet you in the lobby.”

As they were on their way out the phone rang and Simon rushed back into the inner office to pick it up. Nancy waited with her heart in her throat, hoping that it might be some news. But from Simon’s side of the conversation, she could tell it was only another reporter.

She put her arm around George. “Come on. Think of it as a treasure hunt, with Bess waiting for us at the end.” George didn’t answer, but gave Nancy a weak smile in return.

As they left the office, it occurred to Nancy that for right now, Simon Mueller had to be her prime suspect. He was the only one really benefiting from this ordeal.

Moments later Nancy, George, and Nicholas met in the lobby near the refreshment counter to plan their search of the building.

Nancy was acutely aware of every passing minute. Time was running out. The movie would be over soon, and then the theater would be so full of screaming teenagers that it would be impossible to search the main areas.

As they were ready to start looking, Joseph came running down the stairs from the projection booth overhead. He had been running the film. His wrinkled face was flushed with excitement.

“I just got a phone call from the kidnapper!” he said. “It came through on the house phone in the projection room.”

Nancy’s heart leapt into her throat. “The kidnapper!” So the man in the ski mask really was a kidnapper. But what did he want with Bess?

“What did he say? What does he want?” George grabbed Joseph’s sleeve.

“Well, he isn’t asking for money like most kidnappers,” Joseph said, rubbing his chin.

“What
did
he want, Joseph?” Nancy asked.

“It was really very strange.____” Joseph said slowly.

“What was?” From the abrupt way she asked the question, Nancy saw that George was getting impatient.

Joseph met Nancy’s eye. “What he said.” He paused.

“Which is?” Nancy prodded. The old man seemed to need to have his memory jarred.

“He said, ‘I have the girl, and she’s safe for now.’ ” George sighed with relief, and Nancy waited for Joseph to go on.

“And?”

“Then he told me . . . let me make sure I have this right” He paused again. “Yes. He said, ‘If you let them tear down the Royal Palladium, I guarantee you’ll never see her again.’ ”

T
HE
R
OYAL
P
ALLADIUM?”
Nancy echoed. “What’s the Royal Palladium?” she asked, her eyes searching Joseph’s face.

“That was the name of the theater before it became a movie house,” Nicholas said. “My grandfather told me,” he explained. Even so, he seemed as confused as they were.

Nancy turned back to Joseph. “Did you recognize the caller’s voice?”

“No. It was kind of muffled, like he was talking out of the side of his mouth.”

“Was his voice deep or high?”

“In the middle, I’d say. I’m sorry I can’t be more help, Nancy.”

“That’s okay, Joseph. You’ve helped a lot,” Nancy said, laying her hand on the old man’s arm.

“Well, it isn’t much. I just wish I’d been there when that scoundrel nabbed young Bess. Unfortunately, I must have been up in the projection room, making the introduction over the PA and getting ready to run the film. You know I have to do everything around here these days—set up the movies, clean, run the office. . . . ”

“That’s okay, Joseph,” George said. “We know you did everything you could.” She took Nancy aside.

“What’s wrong, George?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t know, Nancy,” George began. “But Joseph’s so old, do you think he got the message right? What if he missed something, like some clue about where Bess might be?” She bit her fingernail absentmindedly. “I just wish we’d been there when the kidnapper called.”

Nancy was about to answer her friend when the front doors of the theater opened, and a half-dozen uniformed police officers rushed into the lobby.

“Thank goodness they’ve arrived.” Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to George and said with as much confidence as she could muster, “With all these men and women I’m sure we’ll find her.”

After Joseph had explained to the police about the kidnapper’s message, Detective Ryan turned to Nancy.

“Okay,” he said. “The first thing we do is try to find the girl.”

“What about the phone call?” Nancy asked. “Shouldn’t we be trying to follow that lead, too?”

Ryan smiled. “We should, but only after we find Bess. Then we can worry about who made the call. My officers and I will search the dressing rooms upstairs and the basement. Why don’t you concentrate on the auditorium and backstage? We’ll all meet back there to report what we’ve found.”

“I’m really sorry to do this to you,” Nicholas Falcone said. “I wanted to help search for your friend, but I have to drive out to my grandfather’s house. He doesn’t answer, and I’m a little worried about him.”

“I’m afraid you won’t be allowed to leave without an escort, friend,” Ryan said. “Henry”—he motioned to a young policeman—“please accompany Mr. Falcone and
bring him back here. I have a few questions for him.”

“Why?” George asked when Nicholas was out of earshot. “Isn’t he okay? He seems so concerned and nice, and he doesn’t even know Bess.”

“Yes,” said Nancy. “That’s the problem. Why was he hanging around? To see
where
we’re going to search, or did he really want to help us? If the kidnapper wants to save the theater, who would benefit more from taking Bess than Nicholas? He’s got a great big motive.”

Ryan looked at her, tapped the side of his head, and winked. “That’s my girl,” he said. “Come on, let’s get going.”

• • •

Several hours later the girls collapsed into two of the plush front-row seats in the auditorium. The floor beneath their feet was sticky from spilled soda. Popcorn and candy wrappers lay everywhere, discarded by the screaming throng that was now long gone.

Nancy and George were too tired even to appreciate the gracious old-world beauty of the elegant theater around them. They were dirty, exhausted, and discouraged. They had searched and searched, but they had uncovered no sign of Bess.

“Come on, girls, you have to eat something,” a tall, handsome police officer said as he shoved a bag of hamburgers and french fries under their noses. “Here, one of the guys brought these back for you.”

“No, thank you,” Nancy said. Just looking at food made her think of Bess, who was constantly dieting to lose the same five pounds.

“Come on,” the officer said, pulling a cheeseburger from the bag. “You two have been crawling through every nook and cranny of this place for hours. You’ve got to eat.”

“He’s right,” George said, taking a burger from the bag and unwrapping it. “We’re not going to help Bess by starving.”

Nancy absently took the bag from the officer, then handed it to George, who took out a bag of fries and began eating.

“Have you found your friend?” a male voice asked.

They turned around to see Nicholas standing behind them, a concerned look on his dark face.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Nancy answered. “We’ve searched all evening, and the police are convinced that Bess isn’t here. They’re giving up the search for the night.”

“And how about you, Nancy?” Nicholas
said, sitting down behind her. “Are you convinced that she isn’t here?”

Nancy turned in her seat to face him. “Not at all. I’m sure she is here. There were too many people in and around the theater for them to get out of here. And no matter how much we’ve searched, there are still hundreds of cubbyholes in this old place that we haven’t checked yet. This has got to be the best hiding place in town.

“Did you find your grandfather?” Nancy asked, changing the subject. Although her tone was casual, her blue eyes were searching Nicholas’s face intently. He loved the theater, and he wanted to preserve his great-grandfather’s and grandfather’s art. Did he kidnap Bess?