Model Crime 1 (7 page)

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!

“O
ut 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 bottom 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?”

“Come on,” I murmured to my friends. “Let’s go sniff around a little while everyone’s still distracted.”

We slipped away from the rest of the group. “What are we looking for?” George asked. “Donald said they already checked Vic’s dressing room.”

“I bet they didn’t check every trash bin in the stadium,” I said. “If Vic is telling the truth about what happened, it sounds like someone switched out the water-based gel with his usual flammable stuff—probably even put it in the other container, knowing what was likely to happen.”

Bess’s eyes widened. “Ooh, nasty!”

“Exactly,” I said grimly. “Which is why we need to find the evidence. We have to get to the bottom of things before whoever’s doing this escalates things even more and somebody gets really hurt, like—”

“Sydney!” George blurted out.

I glanced ahead, realizing Sydney had just emerged from the locker room area with her mother and Deb right behind her. In all the excitement, I’d forgotten that she was still holed up getting ready.

She looked gorgeous dressed as an Egyptian princess, even with a long scarf draped around her neck and chest to hide the ant bites. But her expression was distraught. “This is a disaster!” she cried as soon as she spotted us.

For a second I thought someone must have already told her what had happened to Vic. But then I saw that she was clutching her green-beaded PDA. She held it up in front of us.

“I just got a text from River Street Blossoms and Bows,” she wailed. “Someone just canceled the entire flower order for the wedding!”

A
fter what had happened to Vic, a canceled flower order seemed pretty minor. But it was obvious that it had Sydney on the edge of a breakdown.

“It’ll be okay,” Bess said, hurrying over and putting an arm around her. “My mom knows Mrs. Rayne over at Blossoms and Bows pretty well. I’m sure if we just call her and explain…”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Ellie Marvin agreed, sounding exasperated. “This isn’t the end of the world, Sydney.”

“Maybe not.” Sydney sniffled. “But it’s just one more disaster in the larger disaster that my wedding is becoming!”

Akinyi came hurrying toward us, arriving just in time to hear the last part of what Sydney had said. “Oh, so you heard about Vic’s hair?” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe it! Thank goodness he wasn’t burned more seriously.”

“What?” Sydney blinked. “Vic’s hair? Burned? What are you talking about, Kinnie?”

I winced. This was the last straw Sydney needed to make her go back to her earlier plan to elope. “Everyone’s okay now,” I said quickly. “Don’t worry.”

Sydney hardly seemed to hear me, demanding that Akinyi explain what she was talking about. Sure enough, as soon as she heard about the fire, she freaked out, bursting into tears and threatening once more to call off the wedding.

Luckily Donald arrived on the scene at that moment. Upon hearing the latest problem, he immediately whipped out his cell phone and called the flower shop.

“There, that’s all fixed,” he announced as he hung up a few minutes later. “They hadn’t even canceled the order with their supplier yet—they wanted to double-check first. So no harm done.”

Sydney sniffled. “Thanks, Donald,” she said. “I guess we’re down to one disaster for today after all. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I need to go check on poor Vic.”

“So Vic convinced her to relax and keep going ahead with the wedding?” Ned Nickerson asked.

I glanced over at him. We were at a quiet table at our favorite Italian restaurant. Ned and I had been a couple for years. But just recently, we’d started a new tradition: Friday date night. We’d been forced to spend way too much time apart a month or two earlier, and that had made us realize we needed to set aside time for each other and stick to it no matter what.

“Yep,” I said, reaching for my water glass. “It’s kind of amazing. Vic comes across as this totally hyper, larger-than-life, spastic type of character. But he seems to be the only one who can calm Sydney down when she gets really worked up.”

“Love is an amazing thing,” Ned said lightly, winking at me in the candlelight. “So do you have any suspects yet in the case?”

I sighed. “A whole slew of them. Unfortunately, none of them are too convincing.” Tapping my fingers on the tablecloth, I thought over the cast of characters involved in the wedding. “There’s the TV director for one.”

“Hans Eberhart?” Ned said. “Do you really think he’d do something like that? He’s pretty well-known—would he really risk his reputation that way?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. George seems to think he might harbor a grudge because he doesn’t have the kind of respected, artsy career he should have had after his early success. He could be trying to get that career back on track. Or even just trying to get the show higher ratings.”

“I guess.” Ned spun a bite of his pasta on his fork, looking somewhat unconvinced. “Who else have you got?”

“I hate to say it, but there’s Sydney herself. Could she be having second thoughts about filming her wedding and be trying to sabotage it?” I smiled wryly as Ned glanced up from his food in surprise. “I know, I know. I can’t really believe she’d be capable of some of this stuff either. Especially since Vic almost got badly hurt twice now—first by the jet fuel thing, and now the fire.” I pursed my lips thoughtfully. “But I have a definite hunch that there’s something she isn’t telling me about all this. And that makes me wonder.”

Ned still looked skeptical. “Okay,” he said. “Anyone else?”

I picked up my garlic bread and stared at it. “Well, I can’t help noticing that Syd’s friend Deb always seems to be close at hand when things go wrong. She refused the jet fuel–laced drink at the party, and she turned up at the filming this morning even though she wasn’t supposed to be there as far as I know.”

“Deb?” Ned echoed. “Wait, are you talking about the Deb who works at the Pop In and Shop? You think she could be doing all this?”

“Maybe. What if she’s envious of her old friend’s beauty and success?” I set down the garlic bread without taking a bite, thinking over everything I knew about Deb Camden. “Come to think of it, she’s mentioned she doesn’t have much money—that’s why she’s working at the convenience store, to put herself through school. Could there be some kind of motive there?”

Ned shrugged. “Anything’s possible,” he said. “You’ve certainly busted less likely suspects before. But listen, what about this Vic guy himself? Is he on your list? Because based on what you’ve told me, he makes a lot of sense as a suspect.”

“What do you mean?”

Ned put down his fork and starting ticking things off on his fingers. “He could have sent those e-mails. He had access to the invitations. He was the one who ‘discovered’ the jet fuel before anyone drank it.”

“He was the one who hung that lei around Syd’s neck,” I went on, nodding slowly. “And he’s the one who may have used the wrong hair gel, whether accidentally or not.” I shuddered. “But would anyone really be nuts enough to light his own hair on fire?”

“You said the show always has medics standing by, right?” Ned pointed out. “Vic would know that too—he’d have to be pretty sure he wouldn’t be too badly injured.” He cracked a smile. “Besides, I’ve seen the show. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d put himself in serious harm’s way. That guy is nuts just to have done half the things he did on there!”

“You have a point,” I agreed, smiling ruefully in return. “But what’s his motive? He really seems to adore Sydney—why would he hurt her like this?”

“The dude seems to crave attention, and this is getting him plenty. Maybe he’s not really thinking about the rest.”

“Okay, but if you want to look at it that way, it seems just as likely that one of the other Daredevils could be behind it,” I said. “Especially that Dragon guy—he’s not even that close to Vic, and George is sure that Dragon thinks his stint on
Daredevils
will jump-start a showbiz career. And then of course with Pandora there’s the whole love-triangle thing. Maybe she’s trying to break up the wedding to get Vic back for herself.”

“Maybe,” Ned agreed. “But would she really put her beloved in mortal danger not once but twice?”

I shrugged. “Like you said, she’d know as well as anyone that the hair gel thing probably wouldn’t be too serious. But maybe that does make her a less likely suspect for the PowerUp prank. That easily could have killed him, and several other people too.” Thinking about the jet fuel incident reminded me of one more name to add to the suspect list. “Then there’s Akinyi,” I said. “She refused to join in on the PowerUp toast. And she was pretty quick to tell Syd what happened with Vic’s hair today—almost like she
wanted
her to freak out. Besides that, she definitely knew that Syd has sensitive skin and would be more affected than most people by those ant bites.”

“Why would she want to bust up Sydney’s wedding?” Ned asked. “I thought they were best friends.”

“Me too,” I said. “But I guess she could be nursing some kind of grudge we don’t know about. Oh! Or maybe it has to do with Josh somehow.” I quickly told Ned about Akinyi’s screenwriter boyfriend. “I just remembered, one of the ideas Josh was telling Eberhart about had something to do with a deadly swarm of bugs! Sounds awfully similar to what happened with those ants…. What if he’s behind this? Or he and Akinyi are doing it all together?”

“Okay, they would definitely have the means and the opportunity,” Ned said. “But again I ask—why? Where’s the motive?”

I slumped in my seat, playing with the edge of my napkin. “I have no idea,” I admitted. “Professional jealousy? Or maybe some kind of personal vendetta we don’t know about yet?”

“Sounds pretty weak.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Definitely weak. But you know me. I’m not giving up until I figure it out.”

The next day was Saturday, exactly one week before the wedding. It was also the day of Sydney’s bridal shower. Sydney’s parents’ home was only a few blocks from mine, so my friends and I walked over there together.

“I wish I was going on that retreat instead of to this stupid shower,” George muttered, picking at the waistband of the sundress she’d borrowed from me.

Bess slapped her hands away. “Leave that alone,” she ordered. “It’s perfect. And stop complaining. You know you wouldn’t have any more fun at some silly all-male ‘retreat’ out in the woods somewhere.”

I grinned at the expression on George’s face, which said she wasn’t too sure about that. But she didn’t bother to argue the point.

Vic and the rest of the guys had headed off that morning to the state park a few miles downriver for a day of male bonding. I wasn’t clear on all the details, but I suspected there might be some banging of drums and pounding of chests involved.

In any case, the whole world would be able to check out those details soon enough. Eberhart and most of the film crew had gone with them to film the whole thing, leaving behind Madge, Donald, and a handful of camera operators and others to record the shower.

“So did Vic’s family arrive safely last night?” I asked as we walked.

George nodded. “Sydney talked to him right after they got here,” she said. “His mom and his three cousins who are going to be groomsmen came, along with a couple of others, I think. The rest aren’t flying in until next week.”

We were almost to the Marvin house by then. “I hope Sydney can manage to relax and enjoy herself today,” Bess said as we headed up the front steps. “She was really upset yesterday.”

“Can you blame her?” George rolled her eyes. “Her fiancé almost spontaneously combusted.”

“Hush,” I warned, raising my hand to the doorbell. “We’re here.”

The door burst open a moment later, revealing Pandora. “Hi, guys!” she gushed. “Come on in—the other bridesmaids and family are all here. We’re just trying to get everything set up before the rest of the guests arrive.”

I felt a bit underdressed beside Pandora’s outfit, an elaborate Indian sari. Seeing Akinyi and Candy didn’t chase that feeling away. Akinyi looked taller, thinner, and more exotic than ever in a form-fitting modern strapless orange gown and four-inch heels, while Candy was attired in a Victorian-inspired pale-blue gown complete with totally impractical elbow-length white silk gloves.

Luckily, however, everyone else looked much more normal. Sydney was stylish and pretty in a long-sleeved dress with a patterned silk scarf draped artfully around her neck to cover most of her ant bites. Ellie, Deb, and the other locals were dressed in outfits similar to what my friends and I were wearing.

Ellie bustled up to greet us and introduce us to Vic’s mother, who was helping Deb fold napkins in the kitchen. Tina Valdez was small and thin, with gray-streaked dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. She seemed to be as quiet and unassuming as her son was brash and in-your-face.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Valdez,” Bess said. “You must be very proud of your son.”

“Oh, yes.” The woman flashed us an uncertain smile as her eyes darted around the room. “Our whole family is proud of Vic. I just don’t know what to make of all this TV business sometimes, you know?”

“I can only imagine!” Deb put in with a giggle. “Still, it must be terribly exciting having a celebrity in the family. Like living the lifestyle of the rich and famous!”

“I’m sure that’s very nice,” Ellie put in, sounding slightly disapproving. “But the most important thing is family, isn’t that right, Tina?”

“Isn’t what right?” Sydney asked, hurrying in. “Is everything almost done in here? They just turned on the cameras, and the rest of the guests should be here soon.”

“We’re just about ready,” Ellie told her. “Just waiting for one last delivery from the bakery.”

Just then there was a knock on the back door. I hurried over to open it and found fifteen-year-old Mary Mackin standing there. Mary’s parents own one of the best bakeries in River Heights.

“Oh, good,” I said with a smile. “We were waiting for you.”

“Hi, Nancy,” Mary greeted me cheerfully. She held up a large white bakery box tied with string. “Sorry this is late. It took us a while to make up a new batch of cupcakes after the last-minute change in the order.”

“Thanks, Mary,” I said, glancing down at the order slip that was stuck into the string on top of the box. “I’ll take care of them.”

I carried the box over to the table, where Sydney, her mother, George, Tina Valdez, and Deb were just finishing up with the napkins. “Is that the bakery delivery, Nancy?” Ellie asked.

“Yep,” I said, setting down the box. “Two dozen double-chocolate cupcakes with fudge frosting.”

“Yum, chocolate cupcakes,” George said hungrily.

But Sydney just stared at the box—and then burst into tears.