A Model Crime by Carolyn Keene

“Roger,” Nancy said, stepping up to the model, who looked absolutely drained. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure,” he said, rubbing his shoulder as if it hurt. “What’s up?”

  Without fanfare Nancy removed the gold tie tack from her pocket and held it out to him. She watched his face closely for a reaction.

  Roger broke into a huge smile. “My tie tack! Where’d you find it?” he said, taking the object and gazing at it fondly.

  “Where did you lose it?” Nancy asked coolly.

  “Beats me,” Roger said. “I had it when I went to a fitting up at Smash, and the next time I looked for it, it was gone!”

  Nancy looked straight into those often-photographed blue eyes and decided that he was telling the truth. There was an innocence there that couldn’t be manufactured.

  “Come on,” he pressed her. “Tell me where you found it.”

  Quickly she filled him in on that, and on some of what had been going on in the contest. His eyes widened, first in shock, then in anger. “Nancy, if I can help you in any way, let me know.”

  The director was back on his feet, calling to the cast and crew. With a wave, Roger turned on his heel and went back to work.

  Nancy watched until take sixty-two, then headed back to the hotel. Bess would probably still be at her session, and Nancy wanted some time alone. She needed to sort out her ideas about the case and decide what to do next.

  When she stepped inside her hotel room, her eyes were immediately drawn to a piece of paper lying on her pillow. That’s odd, Nancy thought. Bess was still gone, and any messages for them would’ve come to the front desk.

  Nancy picked up the paper. In big block letters was a simple and direct message.

  Nancy Drew, if you like your face the way it is, keep your nose out of other people’s business.

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  NANCY BLINKED and stared down at the note in her hands again. Receiving it was even more threatening, since its writer had managed to get into her room. Biting her lip, she thought of the bellhop who’d lost his passkey the other day. The author of this poisonous message had probably stolen the key.

  The doorknob turned. Nancy’s eyes flicked to it, her heart pounding. But when the door opened, she saw Bess, who sailed into the suite with a dreamy smile on her face.

  “Nancy! I’m in love!” she announced. “Leo Halsey is the sweetest—I mean truly the sweetest, most adorable guy I have ever met in my entire life! He made me feel so comfortable and relaxed.” She hugged herself blissfully. “Anyway, I just came back for lunch and to pick up some different clothes. Leo wants to do a whole spread of me as an old-fashioned eighteenth-century romantic. Long dresses and nosegays.”

  “Well, I’m really glad it worked out, Bess,” she said.

  “Okay.” Bess’s face grew serious. “What’s wrong? I’ve known you for a long time, Nan, and I can tell when something’s bothering you.”

  Nancy handed Bess the note without a word.

  “Oh, no!” Bess cried after she read it. “This is horrible!”

  “We’ve been in worse situations before, and I’m not going to give up now. I’m too close.”

  “Nancy, do you absolutely swear—I mean a truly solemn promise—to be careful? If anything happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself! I’m the one who made you come here.”

  “Come on, Bess,” Nancy said. “You know I’m always careful. Besides, nobody forced me to come here. I’m a big girl, and I make my own decisions.”

  “I still don’t like it, Nan,” she murmured.

  “I’m not thrilled, either. But let’s eat lunch,” Nancy said, trying to sound light. “I’m hungry.”

  Bess gathered up some clothes and tossed them in the garment carrier that was a gift from Elan. “I guess I’m ready,” she said, her spirit dampened by Nancy’s note.

  In the hotel café Trudy Woo, Maggie Adams, Alison Williams, and Natasha were all seated around a large table.

  “Hi, guys, what’s going on?” Bess asked, stepping up to the group.

  “I have some news,” Maggie said, looking up from her spinach salad. “I ran into Bettina this morning. She said she was able to persuade Alex Bogorofsky to stay in the contest! He won’t do any more head shots, but he’ll do the group shots, including the awards ceremony.”

  “That’s good, I guess,” Bess said.

  “That’s fantastic!” Alison said, far more enthusiastically. “Yesterday it looked like they were going to cancel the whole contest.”

  “Oh, no!” Trudy Woo let out a little cry. “Listen to this!” she said, holding up Earl Banks’s column. “ ‘As for the Farce of the Year Contest—oops, that’s Face of the Year—look for an up-and-comer by the name of Heather Richards to walk away with the laurels. Though the contest has been a complete fiasco up to now, a little bird informs me that Heather’s a fast runner, and she’s already well positioned on the inside track. . . .’ ”

  “I don’t believe it,” Maggie said, aghast.

  “Something is very wrong with this whole contest,” Natasha murmured.

  “And I’d love to know who that ‘little bird’ is,” Bess said.

  Nancy wondered, too. Heather seemed to have Thom Fortner wrapped around her little finger, but it was Bettina Vasquez whom she’d heard talking to Earl Banks. Or maybe Heather was talking to reporters herself now.

  “It kind of makes you want to give up, doesn’t it?” Alison said with a disgusted look. “I mean, why bother competing if we don’t have a chance?”

  “I know,” Natasha agreed. “It’s really depressing.” Silence fell over the group.

  “Well, we’re going to have lunch,” Bess said. “Nothing like eating to make a person feel better. Even if it’s only salad.”

  “You can sit here,” Trudy said. “Natasha and I are leaving anyway.”

  “Where are Diana and Carey?” Nancy asked.

  “Good question. They were going to sleep late, but this is ridiculous,” Alison said, looking at her watch. “It’s after one.”

  “Maybe one of us should go knock on their door,” Maggie suggested.

  “I can go,” Nancy volunteered. “I have to go back to my room anyway. Bess, order me a grilled Swiss and tomato. I’ll be right back.”

  Nancy stood up and walked out of the dining room. On the way to the fourth floor, she couldn’t help thinking of Earl Banks’s column. She was fairly sure that Bettina was the “little bird” Earl had written about. Dousing Elan with bad publicity had to be an evil thrill for Bettina, a way of soothing the hurt Monique had done to her heart.

  But was Bettina setting Heather up to win? She didn’t seem to like Heather. In fact, she enjoyed taking Heather down a peg or two sometimes.

  Stepping off the elevator, Nancy noticed that the fourth floor was unusually quiet. Without the girls dashing through the halls, giggling and laughing or moaning about the way they looked, the place seemed dead.

  Nancy went to her room and got her camera. Then she stepped down three doors and knocked on the door of the room that Carey and Diana shared.

  “Hello?” Nancy called.

  “Who’s there?” Carey’s voice sounded small and timid.

  “It’s me, Nancy.”

  “Oh, Nancy.” Carey sounded relieved as she pulled open the door. “Look at my face!”

  Nancy’s eyes widened as she took in the huge blotches all over the aspiring model’s face.

  “Diana has it, too. She’s in the bathroom, seeing if hot water will help it go away,” Carey said, rubbing at her cheek. “It itches like crazy! We’ve tried astringent and cold cream, but they only made it worse.”

  “What is it?” Nancy asked. “An allergy?”

  Carey looked helpless. “Neither one of us is allergic to anything. All we know is that when we woke up, we had it.”

  “Mind if I take a look at your pillow?” Nancy asked, playing a hunch.

  “Sure, go ahead,” Carey said, looking confused.

/>   “We’ll never be able to compete looking like this!” Diana moaned, coming out of the bathroom. Her face was full of blotches, too.

  Nancy walked over to Carey’s bed and ran her fingers over the pillow. Her fingers turned red instantly.

  “I hate to tell you this,” Nancy said, rubbing her hands, “but someone put itching powder on your pillows.”

  “Oh, no!” Diana shrieked.

  “What kind of powder?” Carey asked, a tremor in her voice.

  “Well, I’m not sure,” Nancy said, her fingers itching. “But if it’s the usual kind of itching powder, it should stop driving you crazy in a couple of hours.”

  “A couple of hours?” Diana wailed.

  “What about the red marks, Nancy?” Carey asked nervously.

  “Sorry,” Nancy said sympathetically. “They won’t go away for days.”

  The two girls moaned miserably, and Nancy gritted her teeth. Somebody was doing an awfully good job of sabotaging this contest, and the contest was almost over. If she didn’t solve this case soon, it would be too late!

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  AFTER TRYING to soothe the feelings of the blotchy-faced models, Nancy returned to the dining room. Bess was still there, but Maggie and the others had gone.

  “Hi, Bess! Hi, Nancy!” Kelly called out just as Nancy was sitting down. Kelly stepped up to the table and pulled out a seat. Under her arm was a slender, light gray briefcase that complemented her periwinkle sweater and gray slacks. “What’s happening?” she asked.

  Nancy took a breath and met Kelly’s eyes. “I have some news,” she began, and she filled Bess and Kelly in on what had happened to Carey and Diana.

  “That’s nasty stuff,” Kelly said, shaking her head.

  “I’ll say!” Bess put in, being careful not to let her voice carry. “And whoever is causing all this trouble is trying to scare Nancy!”

  “Is that true?” Kelly asked.

  Nancy nodded reluctantly. “This was on my pillow this afternoon,” she said, taking the note from her pocket and handing it to Kelly.

  The reporter’s eyes widened as she read the threat. “This is getting out of hand,” she murmured.

  “Oh—I’d like to get my hands on that Heather Richards,” Bess hissed. “I just know she’s behind everything!”

  “Is that what you think, too, Nancy?” Kelly asked.

  Nancy let out a sigh. “I think she may have something to do with what’s going on,” she said slowly, “but I’m not positive she wrote the note.”

  “Notice that Heather is always absent when trouble strikes?” Bess said, leaning toward them.

  “She also has a busy schedule, Bess.”

  “Speaking of busy—yikes!” Bess cried, glancing at her wristwatch. “I’m supposed to be at Leo’s right now!” She grabbed her handbag from the back of the chair.

  “See you later,” Nancy said, watching her friend fly out of the dining room with a quick wave.

  After Bess was gone, Kelly turned to Nancy and said, “I found out something interesting. I was just at Elan and saw Heather there. Apparently Monique is already sending her out on go-sees.”

  “What are go-sees?” Nancy asked.

  “That’s when models go to see photographers about getting work,” Kelly explained.

  “But Heather hasn’t even won the contest yet,” Nancy pointed out. “The judges aren’t voting until tonight.”

  Kelly shrugged. “I don’t get it either. It seems pretty unfair to me.”

  “Come on, Kelly,” Nancy said, standing up and taking her jacket off the back of her chair. “Let’s go to Elan and see if Heather’s still there. It’s time to get to the bottom of this mess.”

  As the cab pulled up to the large office building, Nancy spotted Heather walking out.

  “There she is,” Nancy told Kelly. They scrambled out of the cab, chasing Heather as she walked. “Heather!” Nancy called out.

  Heather turned around and waved but kept on walking.

  “Heather! Wait!” Kelly cried.

  “What do you want?” Heather snapped, and she continued walking. “I’m in a hurry!”

  “We want to talk to you about something,” Nancy told her. “It’s important.”

  “I don’t have time,” Heather retorted.

  “Then you’d better make time—Gloria,” Kelly said.

  Heather stopped then and stared at the Teen Scene reporter. “How do you know my real name?” she asked.

  “I know a lot of other things, too,” Kelly said, her voice full of steel. “And so does Nancy.”

  “Come on,” Nancy said more gently. “Let’s find someplace to talk.”

  Heather stared at Nancy and Kelly, then glanced down at her wristwatch. “Let me make a call and tell the photographer I’ll be late.”

  Kelly pulled some change out of her pocket. “Here,” she said and she nodded at a nearby phone booth.

  When Heather went to make her call, Nancy said, “This could be our break. Did you see the fear in her eyes just then?”

  Kelly nodded somberly.

  When Heather was done using the phone, she pointed to a nearby bench. “We can talk there,” she said in a subdued tone.

  They sat down, and Heather turned to Nancy with a desperate look in her golden eyes. “If you’re going to try to blackmail me,” she said, “you should know that I don’t have any money—not yet.”

  “We’re not going to blackmail you,” Nancy told her calmly. Funny, Nancy thought, how quickly Heather’s mind had leapt to that conclusion. Is that what she would have done if their positions were reversed?

  “We’re not going to blackmail you, but we do want to know a few things,” Kelly said.

  “Such as?”

  “Such as why you’re the only contestant who hasn’t been affected by any of the mishaps,” Nancy said, leveling her gaze at Heather.

  “Just luck, I guess.” Heather gave a casual shrug, but her eyes showed how amused she was.

  “What about the threatening note on Nancy’s pillow?” Kelly blurted out.

  Heather’s eyes flickered with confusion for a minute, then set into a hard stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never wrote any note. And as far as I’m concerned, I haven’t done anything wrong in a long time. It would be pretty rotten of you to tell people what you know.”

  “You say you haven’t done anything wrong in a long time,” Nancy said pointedly. “What about entering this contest even though you’ve worked as a professional model?”

  Though Nancy didn’t have hard proof, her wild shot hit home. Heather blinked and caught her breath momentarily, but in an instant her hard veneer was back in position. “You can’t prove it,” she said. “And besides,” she added haughtily, “even if you do tell what you know, it won’t matter.”

  “Think what you’re doing, Heather,” Nancy argued. “It won’t do you any good to win the contest if Elan’s reputation is ruined. They can’t help your career if they haven’t got any business.”

  “Who cares about Elan?” Heather declared coldly. “There are other modeling agencies—like the one Roger Harlan wants to sign with.”

  “Really?” said Nancy, taking in this bit of information.

  “And there are other clothing companies, too,” Heather added, her voice dropping darkly. “Big ones. Bigger than Smash!”

  “Like Let’s Go?” Nancy said.

  “Bigger than that. Now I have to go,” Heather snapped, getting up and walking away.

  “Things are starting to fall into place now,” Nancy told Kelly. “Let’s get back to the hotel. Everybody will be gathering there before long. I want to ask Monique Durand about those go-sees.”

  “I’ll meet you there later,” Kelly said. “But, Nancy, shouldn’t we be tailing Heather?”

  “I don’t think so,” Nancy said.

  “You mean Heather’s not the one we’re after?” Kelly gasped.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Nancy said. ??
?But I’ll tell you one thing—she’s not the only one.”

  • • •

  In the hotel lobby Nancy watched as workers carried in large blowups of the contestants’ pictures.

  “Hi.” Nancy nodded to one of the workers who was busy hanging up a blowup of Bess. “Hi.” The worker nodded back, then called across the room to a colleague. “Is this number three, Eddie?”

  Eddie consulted a large sheet of paper. “Right,” he confirmed. “Hang it there.”

  Nancy stepped back to admire Bess’s picture. She was smiling pertly into the camera, and though her expression was a little stiff, she looked good. Leo Halsey wasn’t a bad photographer, but he was no genius either.

  Maggie Adams’s photo was sheer magic, though. Her smile lit up her whole face, and the overall effect of the photo was relaxed and natural. Nancy couldn’t help gazing at Maggie’s picture a little longer than she did at the others.

  When Heather’s pictures were placed on the wall, Nancy did a double take. How could someone so cold and devoid of charm be so lovely and sincere-looking in a photo? Obviously Heather had genuine ability at modeling.

  “The candids go over here, right, Eddie?” Again Eddie consulted his paper. “Yeah, but be sure to go by the numbers. The art director wants them in a specific order.”

  Nancy looked around for Monique Durand, but Elan’s owner still hadn’t shown up, so she sauntered over to the candids for a quick peek. There were Carey Harper and Diana Amsterdam letting off steam by jumping on their beds. There was Alison Williams sharing a tender moment with her date from the banquet, Elan model Daryl Hancock. There were Trudy Woo and Natasha going crazy over dresses in a boutique.

  “I only got nine here, Eddie,” the worker told his colleague after he’d hung several photos.

  “That’s funny. Let me check the list,” Eddie said. “Okay, one is missing, you’re right,” he announced. “The one that was taken before the big disaster at the fountain.”

  Before the big disaster? Nancy felt her heart quicken. Why was that particular photo missing? And just what did it show?

  Maybe if somebody had taken the trouble to steal it, the photo might hold the key to the entire mystery!