Model Crime 1 (8 page)

“W
hat’s the matter?” I exclaimed, startled. “Sydney, what is it?”

“
Chocolate
cupcakes?” Sydney wailed. “But I’m allergic to chocolate! That’s why I
specifically
ordered yellow cupcakes with vanilla frosting!”

“Oh, dear! Maybe the tag is wrong.” Deb quickly opened the box and peeked inside. “Nope, they’re chocolate all right. But don’t worry, Syd—I’ll run out and buy some vanilla ones somewhere if you want.”

Sydney was already regaining control of herself. “No, that’s all right,” she said with one last sniffle, grabbing a napkin to wipe her eyes. “Sorry, I guess the stress is getting to me. Of course this is no big deal. It’s not like I have to eat the cupcakes myself for my guests to enjoy them.”

“That’s right,” Ellie said firmly. “Now, Sydney, pull yourself together. George, Bess, take the napkins out to the sideboard. Deb, grab the coffee urn and put that out too. Tina, if you wouldn’t mind helping Nancy bring the coffee cups…”

We all obeyed her orders, scurrying around the kitchen. Just then Candy came hurrying in.

“People are starting to arrive,” she said. “Where’s the guest of honor? Come on, Syd—get out there and let’s get this party started!”

“We’re almost ready,” Ellie said. “Candy, be a dear and put those cupcakes on that tray over there, all right?”

Candy blinked, staring from the open box of fudge-frosted cupcakes to the empty silver tray nearby. “Um, can someone else do it?” she said. “These gloves are way hard to get on and off, and I don’t want to stain them.”

Ellie frowned, her eyes flashing with irritation. I was afraid the stress was getting to her, too. She looked just about ready to snap—and that was the last thing Sydney needed.

“I’ll do it,” I offered, shoving the cups I was holding into Candy’s gloved hands. “Here, you carry these.”

That did the trick. The others hurried out to the living room, and I quickly stacked the cupcakes on the tray. But my mind was elsewhere—namely, over at the Mackins’ bakery. Mary had said something about a last-minute change in the cupcake order. Who had made that change? I wished I’d thought to ask her. Making a mental note to call and ask as soon as I got the chance, I picked up the loaded tray and headed out to join the party.

The bridal shower proceeded smoothly for the next hour or two. At first most of the guests were a bit giggly and self-conscious about the TV cameras. But they soon relaxed into the event, and even I mostly forgot the cameras were there after a while. Madge was staying out of the way, sitting in the kitchen drinking cup after cup of coffee and occasionally stepping outside to make a phone call. Donald quickly won over the girls and women at the shower with his helpfulness and good cheer as he bustled back and forth refilling the coffee urn and bringing out more food. The camera operators themselves were as discreet as possible, staying mostly in the background.

“I doubt they’ll use much of this footage,” George murmured to me at one point. “Who wants to watch a bunch of ladies sitting around sipping tea? That’s why they sent all the senior peeps out on the retreat with the guys.”

“You’re the expert on reality TV,” I replied with a smile. “I’ll take your word for it. But all I can say is some people might be awfully disappointed if their fancy outfits end up on the cutting room floor.” I shot a look at Akinyi, Candy, and Pandora.

A few minutes later Ellie clapped her hands and announced that it was time to open the gifts. Sydney blushed, but obediently came forward and took a seat in the middle of the room.

“You guys really didn’t have to get me anything,” she insisted as Deb and Bess started piling beautifully wrapped boxes at her feet. “Getting to marry Vic is the only gift I ever wanted.”

“Boo!” Pandora called out playfully. “Are you crazy, girl? Go for the loot!”

That made everyone laugh, including Sydney. “Well, thanks,” she said. “Now, let’s see what we have here….”

She started unwrapping, with everyone oohing and aahing over each gift she revealed. There was a huge stack of them, including some from friends and family who couldn’t attend the wedding. There were also packages from Sydney’s modeling agency and several of Vic’s other costars.

Despite her protests, it was obvious that Sydney was having a good time, like a little kid on Christmas morning. She exclaimed happily over each and every offering, from the agency’s elaborate gourmet food basket to a handmade beaded necklace from her six-year-old cousin.

“Okay, what’s next?” Deb said, digging through the remaining pile for another gift. “Hmm, this one looks interesting—but there’s no card.”

Sydney took the small, plainly wrapped box Deb was holding. She turned it over in her hands. “Maybe the card’s inside,” she said. “Or it might have fallen off in the pile. Is it from someone here?” She glanced around the room, but nobody fessed up.

“Just open it,” Akinyi urged. “It looks like jewelry!”

Sydney smiled and obeyed, carefully sliding off the ribbon and removing the paper. When she lifted the lid off the box inside, Deb leaned over her shoulder for a better look.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” she cried, grabbing the box out of Sydney’s hand and holding it up so everyone could get a look at the contents. “See? It’s one of those silhouette necklaces!”

Nestled into the box was a Victorian-style cameo on a slender gold chain. “Nice,” Bess commented approvingly. “Definitely Sydney’s style.”

“Oh, isn’t it gorgeous?” Pandora exclaimed as most of the other guests oohed and aahed. “But I wonder who it’s from?”

I glanced at Sydney, who hadn’t said anything since opening the box. She was staring at the necklace, white-faced and looking oddly shaken. When I shifted my gaze to Ellie, I saw that she, too, seemed startled by the gift. Once again I flashed back to those odd moments when I felt they weren’t telling me everything.

“Excuse me,” I said, standing up and stepping over to Ellie. “Could I steal you for a sec? I think the coffee’s running low and I’m not sure where the filters are.”

It was a lame excuse, but it seemed to work—at least, nobody spared us a glance as I dragged Ellie out to the kitchen and shut the door behind us. Fortunately Madge and Donald were nowhere in sight at the moment and we had the place to ourselves. Ellie sank down onto a chair, staring into space with a furrowed brow, hardly seeming to notice me standing there.

“Okay, what’s going on?” I asked her urgently. “Why did you and Syd look so weird as soon as she opened that gift? Is there something you’re not telling me? Because I need to know everything if I’m supposed to help get to the bottom of this!”

Ellie blinked and glanced at me. She frowned, and for a second I thought she was going to get angry about me grilling her like that.

Then she sighed, seeming to deflate. “Oh, I suppose you’re right; I’d better tell you,” she said. “It’s not that we wanted to keep things from you, Nancy, and we do appreciate all your help with this. It’s just that Sydney simply wanted to forget….” She sighed again and closed her eyes for a moment. Then, opening them, she looked up at me. “You see, Sydney used to have a stalker.”

“A stalker? What do you mean—like a crazed fan?”

Ellie nodded. “Something like that. He contacted her online and wouldn’t leave her alone—insisted that the two of them were destined to be together and so forth. He used to e-mail and text her dozens of times a day.”

“Yikes,” I said. “So who was he?”

“We never did find out his real name,” Ellie said. “Online, he went by the name MrSilhouette.”

“Weird handle,” I commented.

“He claimed it was supposed to symbolize his relation to Sydney—something about always being in the shadows of her life.”

“Creepy.”

She nodded. “Then again, maybe he was just saying that,” she said. “The name might just as easily have come from his bald head. He seemed weirdly proud of his own silhouette, so to speak—even sent Sydney a photo of the back of his head once when she demanded to know who he was.”

“So you were never able to ID him?” I asked. “Not even from that photo?”

Ellie shook her head. “Your father did all he could to help. So did the NYPD and the private detective her agency hired. But MrSilhouette caught on to the investigation and dropped out of sight. Hasn’t bothered her since.” She shot a glance in the direction of the party and bit her lip. “At least until now…”

I widened my eyes as the first part of what she’d said sank in. So
that
was the business Dad had been helping Sydney with last year!

“So you think that necklace came from this MrSilhouette?” I asked.

“It can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

I shrugged. As Bess had mentioned, the cameo necklace was a beautiful piece of jewelry that had that classic Sydney style. It might have been chosen by anyone. But how likely was that given what I’d just learned?

Not very likely,
I thought grimly.

Just then Madge came in from her latest phone call. Ellie excused herself and hurried back out to check on Sydney and I followed more slowly, my head spinning with what she’d told me.

What did this mean for my case? Could the mysterious MrSilhouette be behind all the trouble? If so, where was he—and
who
was he?

I took the first opportunity to pull Bess and George aside to discuss it. We huddled in the front hallway, talking in whispers. I quickly told them what I’d just learned from Ellie.

“Whoa,” George said. “So do you think that’s our guy?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted, rubbing my forehead as if that might jump-start my brain and help me figure it out. “I mean, it’s certainly possible he sent that cameo. But even if he did, we shouldn’t necessarily assume he did the other stuff.”

“How could he have?” Bess leaned back against the front door. “I mean, like we keep saying, anyone could have sent those e-mails….”

“Or changed that bakery order,” George added. “Or canceled the flowers.”

“Or called the police with that false tip about the plane,” I finished. “But what about the other stuff? The jet fuel, the hair gel, the ants—all that took place on closed sets.”

Bess nodded. “Right. A stranger couldn’t have made it past security.”

“Which leads us right back to where we were before,” I said. “MrSilhouette or no MrSilhouette, whoever’s doing this isn’t a stranger. It has to be someone involved in the production. But who?”

We ran quickly over the options. Was Eberhart trying to pump up his career with some invented “reality”? Was Pandora trying to break up the wedding and steal Vic for herself? Could one of the other reality contestants be getting back at Vic for something or striking out due to his greater fame? Was one of the models trying to sabotage Sydney out of professional jealousy or for some other reason? Could Sydney or her mother be trying to back out of the wedding show? Was Deb trying to gain more importance in Sydney’s life by creating these disasters and then helping her through them?

“Okay, that’s a lot of suspects,” George said uncertainly. “But a thought just occurred to me. Would all of them know about Syd’s chocolate allergy?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “A lot of people seemed to know about her sensitive skin, at least according to Akinyi.”

“Ooh! I just thought of something else,” Bess said. “What if someone on the crew is actually MrSilhouette? That one cameraman is bald—what’s his name? Butch, I think.”

“I suppose it’s possible.” I sighed. “We might as well add him to the list with everybody else.”

“There are just too many suspects with too many possible motives,” George said in frustration. “But none of them seem like a slam dunk—or even particularly plausible.”

“I know.” I kicked at the corner of the foyer’s Persian rug. “It’s driving me crazy. Plus we don’t even know for sure that they’re all connected. Some could just be normal wedding craziness, and others could be the result of a risk-taking show like
Daredevils
or—”

I was interrupted by a sudden burst of tinny music. “What’s that?” George said, patting the nonexistent pocket of her dress. “Is that someone’s phone?”

“Not mine,” Bess said, checking her purse.

“There it is.” A PDA with a familiar green-beaded skin was lying on the foyer’s tasteful mahogany bench half-covered by someone’s sweater. “Hey, that’s Syd’s phone,” I added. “I wonder if she knows she left it there.”

I grabbed it, planning to take it back out to Sydney in the other room. But the beaded skin was more slippery than I was expecting, and I almost dropped it.

“Oops!” I said as my finger slipped, pressing a button with a loud beep. “Uh-oh, I hope I didn’t, like, erase anything important….”

I glanced at the screen. A text message had just popped up there, probably due to my accidental button-pushing. Normally I wouldn’t have read Sydney’s private message, of course. But the first line of this one caught my eye, and I gasped as I scanned the rest:

B
ess and George heard me gasp and came over to read the text over my shoulder. “Chocolate and vanilla!” Bess exclaimed. “Do you think that’s a reference to the mix-up with the cupcakes?”

“Has to be. And that means it was probably sent by someone right here at this party,” I said grimly. I shoved the PDA at George. “Take this. I want to get back out there and see who could have sent it.”

I hurried back into the main room, scanning the guests. Unfortunately, I soon realized that the only person I could definitively cross off the suspect list was Akinyi. She wasn’t carrying a purse, and there was no way she could hide so much as a Band-Aid in her tight dress, let alone a cell phone. Plus she was still sitting exactly where I’d last seen her with one high-heeled shoe kicked off.

But nearly anyone else could have done it. People were milling around from room to room, and most of the women were carrying purses. It wouldn’t be difficult for any of them to slip off just long enough to send that text.

Bess came up behind me. “Are you sure it was someone here?” she asked quietly. “Someone from the guys’ retreat could have called the bakery and then sent that text once enough time had passed to be sure the cupcakes had arrived.”

“Good point.” I bit my lip, realizing that text message might not be quite as revealing as I’d hoped. “But I thought the retreat was supposed to be some kind of back-to-nature caveman thing? Were they allowed to bring cell phones?”

Bess shrugged. “There’s Donald.” She pointed to the PA, who had just emerged from the kitchen with a new tray of hors d’oeuvres. “He might know.”

I hurried over. “Hi, Nancy,” Donald greeted me with a smile. “Shrimp?” He held up his tray.

I waved it off. “No thanks,” I said. “Listen, I have a question. What’s the deal with the guys’ retreat? Do you think they have their cell phones with them?”

“Well, they’re not supposed to,” Donald replied, tossing his sandy brown bangs off his forehead. “The idea is that they’re meant to leave all modern stuff behind and get in touch with their authentic nature, or something like that.” He waved his free hand dismissively. “But knowing those guys, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if most of them sneaked a cell or a laptop along anyway.” He grimaced slightly. “It would probably kill most of them to go an entire day without checking their own press.”

I chuckled politely. “Okay, thanks,” I said, feeling a flash of sympathy for him. It seemed as if he really did have a pretty thankless job most of the time.

Then again, his job also means he’s almost always around, with lots of access to everyone and everything having to do with this production,
I mused as Donald turned away to offer his canapés to a passing guest.
If anyone could’ve pulled off most of this mischief without breaking a sweat, it’s him. But what possible motive could he have? I doubt he’d resort to attempted murder just because he thinks Vic’s kind of a stuck-up jerk….

In any case, I seemed to be right back where I’d started. The text message could have come from anyone on the suspect list. So what now?

Remembering that I still hadn’t called the bakery to see who had changed the order, I decided I might as well do that now. I’d set down my purse somewhere with my phone in it, so rather than wasting time looking for it, I headed into the kitchen to use the phone there.

The kitchen was deserted when I got there. But as I headed for the phone, I heard someone push through the door behind me. Turning, I saw that it was Akinyi.

“Nancy, I’m glad I caught you alone,” she said, tottering toward me on her high heels. “Listen, you have to figure out this mystery soon! Otherwise I’m afraid poor Sydney is going off the deep end for sure!”

I was taken aback. “Solve the—wait, you mean you know I’m a detective?”

Akinyi shrugged. “Of course,” she said matter-of-factly. “Sydney tells me everything. In fact, I’m probably the only one here who knows just how hard it was for Syd not to flip out when she got that horrible silhouette necklace! Oh, and Candy, too, of course—she was around for some of that mess as well….”

“Oh,” I said, still too surprised to respond otherwise. “Um, well, I’m trying my best.”

“Good. Let me know if I can do anything to help.” With that, Akinyi turned and hurried back out.

I just stood there for a moment, my mind clicking away with what I’d just learned. Then, realizing that I probably wouldn’t have the kitchen to myself for long, I did what I’d come to do—called the bakery.

“Sure, Nancy,” Mrs. Mackin said once she’d heard my question. “I took that message myself. It came just an hour before the party via text message.”

I thanked her and hung up. Oh well. That hadn’t narrowed things down much….

Just then the door opened again. This time Sydney herself came in. “Oh! Hi, Nancy,” she said. “One of the camera guys needs to talk to Madge. Have you seen her?”

“She must be outside on the phone,” I said distractedly. “But listen, Sydney. I have a question for you. Exactly how and where did you first meet Vic?”

Sydney blinked, seeming a bit perplexed by the sudden change of topic. “Um, it was at a dinner party back in New York,” she said. “At Candy’s apartment.”

“Yes?” I urged.

Sydney smiled, her eyes taking on a distant glow as she recounted the rest of the story. “There were just six of us there,” she said. “Me, Candy, Akinyi, Vic, Bo, and Josh. Candy had met the two
Daredevils
guys at a club the weekend before and thought they were a lot of fun, so she decided to have them over. Being in a small group like that gave me and Vic a chance to get to know each other pretty quickly….” She sighed happily. “And I guess you could say the rest was history.”

It was sweet to see that, even with all the trouble and trauma revolving around this wedding, she was clearly still thrilled to be preparing to marry her dream guy. But I didn’t have time to linger on that. Another piece of the puzzle had just clicked into place in my mind.

“Excuse me,” I said as Madge wandered in from outside and a couple of guests came from the living room looking for clean spoons. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

I hurried back out to the living room in search of a more private phone. Not wanting to waste time searching for my cell, I grabbed George by the arm and asked to borrow hers.

“You have unlimited long distance, right?” I asked as I hurried out into the foyer, already dialing information. “Because this might take a couple of calls….”

“Well?” George demanded when I hung up a few minutes later. “Find out anything interesting?”

“Very.” I smiled, then turned and hurried back out to join the party. Explanations could come later. I didn’t want to let the chance to prove my theory slip away.

The party was still in full swing. I wound my way through the crowd, making a beeline for the tray of fudgy chocolate cupcakes on the table nearest the kitchen. Choosing the biggest, gooiest one from the pile, I picked it up and then wandered across the busy room, looking for a certain person….

“Oops!” I cried out as my foot caught on the rug and I went flying.