Danger on Parade Page 2

  “Greg, you should get that hand checked out,” Bess said.

  “It’s just a little cut from the glass,” he said, but Bess grabbed his good hand and led him over to the paramedics.

  Nancy frowned as she looked back at the warehouse. How could an explosion just happen out of the blue like that? she wondered. Stepping over to one of the fire fighters, she asked, “Do you know what happened?”

  The man shook his head. “It’s too soon to tell. We have to get the fire out first.”

  Nancy was about to ask another question, but her attention was distracted as she saw a familiar blond-haired guy being carried out on a stretcher.

  “Jules!” she cried, running over to him. His eyes were closed. As the paramedics lifted him into an ambulance, his blond head turned limply to the side.

  “He’s unconscious, ma’am,” one of the paramedics explained. “Judging from the lump on his head, he must have been hit in the head by some flying debris.”

  Nancy turned away, a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. This was a lot more serious than she had thought. She spotted Jill and Neil talking to the fire marshal, so she hurried over to see if she could find out more about the explosion.

  “As far as we can tell, ma’am, the fire had something to do with the acetylene torches,” the officer was saying. “But we don’t know exactly how it happened yet. The two men working with them are both on their lunch break.”

  Jill threw her hands into the air. “How much damage has been done? When can we resume work? I have a parade to put on this Thursday, and I need some answers now!” she yelled, obviously upset.

  “I’m sure the police and fire fighters are doing all they can,” Neil said calmly. He thanked the fire marshal, who walked away.

  Nancy stepped up to Jill and Neil. “I’d like to help investigate,” she offered. “Something about—”

  “No, no,” Jill interrupted, waving a hand distractedly in the air. “The police and fire marshal are here, and it’s your vacation. You and Bess go off and have some fun,” she insisted. “I’ll have someone go to a pay phone and call a car service for you.” She pulled out her business card, then wrote something on it. “In case you need them, here are the phone numbers and addresses for both the store and the warehouse,” Jill said, handing Nancy the card.

  Nancy turned as Bess and Greg walked up. “Good as new,” Greg announced. He held up his hand to show the square bandage covering his palm.

  “Glad to hear it,” Neil said. He ran a hand through his brown hair, then looked at Greg, Nancy, and Bess. “Look, Jill and I are going to be here for a while, but there’s no reason for you to stick around.”

  “Well, if you’re sure . . .” Greg turned to Bess and Nancy. “I’d love to have you both join me for a late lunch. I’m meeting a friend of mine,” he said. “After all this, I think some food is in order.”

  “Wonderful,” Jill said, “then we won’t need to call a car service after all.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Bess said to Greg, then looked expectantly at Nancy.

  Nancy really wanted to stay with Jill and Neil and find out what had happened. There was something about the explosion that just didn’t seem right to her. But Bess’s eyes were pleading with her to go with Greg. Besides, how often did she have a chance to have lunch with a TV star?

  “All right,” she agreed. “Food it is!”

  • • •

  “I love traveling in style,” Bess said a few minutes later. She giggled and sank back into the plush leather seat of Greg’s limousine.

  Greg smiled at her. “I know it’s extravagant, but I have a lot of publicity appearances, and I need to get around quickly,” he explained. “I was on ‘Good Morning, Manhattan’ before I came to the warehouse, and I have two more talk shows scheduled this week. Plus I’m being interviewed by about six different magazines. ‘Coolidge High’ is really popular right now.”

  “I don’t think it’s the show. I think it’s you,” Bess told him.

  “Well, thank you,” Greg replied.

  Nancy watched the two stare at each other for a brief moment. She didn’t have to be a scientist to know that there was some chemistry between Bess and Greg.

  “This afternoon I have an interview scheduled with Young You magazine,” Greg added. A sudden glint appeared in his eyes, and he swiveled his head to look from Bess to Nancy, who were sitting on either side of him. “Hey, why don’t you two come along? I’m sure it would be okay.”

  Bess leaned forward and grinned at Nancy, who nodded. “We’d love to!” Bess replied.

  Before long, they arrived at Ipso Facto, a restaurant in midtown Manhattan with a bright red awning above the entrance. Inside, tables covered with white cloths were nestled among decorative pillars and potted plants. Framed art deco posters hung on the walls.

  “Rob! How ya doin’?” Greg went over to a young man with handsome chiseled features who was sitting in the rear of the restaurant. He had brown eyes and straight brown hair with long bangs that covered half of his left eye. He was dressed casually in blue jeans and a maroon turtleneck.

  “Nancy, that’s Nigel from ‘Next Door’!” Bess whispered excitedly.

  “Nancy and Bess, this is Rob Dunn. We used to be on ‘Next Door’ together.”

  “We recognized you from the show,” Nancy said as they sat down.

  Rob laughed. “It’s always great to have fans,” he said. He flicked a thumb at Greg. “He’s so famous, we even get a guard. The manager promised to keep the autograph seekers away so we can eat in peace,” he explained, pointing to a man standing by a nearby pillar.

  A waiter dressed in black came over to their table, and after taking a quick look at the menu, they ordered.

  “All of this excitement has made me hungry,” Bess announced after the waiter left.

  “What excitement—meeting us?” Rob asked with a teasing smile.

  “Well, that too,” Nancy admitted. “But just before we came here, there was an explosion at the Mitchell’s parade studio.”

  Rob’s smile immediately disappeared. “Is everyone okay?” he asked.

  “I was one of the lucky ones,” Greg said, holding up his bandaged hand. “Just a cut from some glass.”

  Nancy briefly told Rob about the explosion. “Jules Langley, the owner’s son, was knocked unconscious, and several other people were hurt.”

  “Jules was hurt? I didn’t even know about it. I hope he’ll be all right,” Bess said. She shook her head in disgust. “I can’t believe it. The Mitchell’s Thanksgiving Day Parade is supposed to be fun, not dangerous.”

  “Maybe it was just an accident,” Greg said. “But it figures that this year, when I’m grand marshal, something would go wrong.”

  “I hope it was just an accident,” Nancy said. “The police and fire department are looking into what caused the explosion right now. Fortunately, most of the floats were in the other warehouse.”

  She stopped talking as the waiter arrived with their food. As he set her club sandwich in front of her, her stomach growled. With all that had happened, she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She bit into the sandwich, momentarily forgetting about the explosion.

  Rob glanced over at the manager, who was still standing by the pillar near their table. “Well, Greg, so far I’ve counted four girls he’s turned away. Maybe you should sign a bunch of napkins and let him give them out.”

  “Nancy, have you noticed all the girls looking at us? They’re jealous of us!” Bess added, grinning. “Maybe they’ll want our autographs.”

  She took out a pen and signed her napkin “Best Wishes, Bess Marvin” with a heart after her name.

  “Forget the fans. I’ll take that,” Greg said. Grinning at Bess, he slipped the signed napkin into his jacket pocket. Bess looked down at her plate and picked up a french fry, but Nancy noticed that her cheeks were flushed with pleasure.

  “So what are you girls up to this afternoon?” Rob asked, after taking a huge swallow of hi
s soft drink.

  Nancy and Bess looked at each other. In all the commotion, they hadn’t really thought about what they were going to do next.

  “Well, we’re in midtown. Maybe we should go window shopping on Fifth Avenue,” Nancy suggested.

  Bess’s eyes lit up. “You know me—born to shop! I’m ready whenever you are,” she said.

  After they finished eating, Greg paid the check, then gave the girls the address of Young You magazine, telling them to meet him there at five o’clock. Then he and Rob slipped into the limousine, while Nancy and Bess started walking toward Fifth Avenue.

  “Nancy, isn’t he great?” Bess asked.

  “Greg seems like a really nice guy,” Nancy agreed. “I think he likes you.”

  “You do?” Bess’s mouth dropped open. “Are you sure? I mean, could he? He’s so famous! Tons of girls are in love with him.”

  Nancy grinned at her friend. “Well, judging by the way he looks at you, I think he likes you a lot.”

  Bess let out a sigh. “Every time I look at him I think it’s a poster, and then I realize the poster is talking to me.”

  All of the boy-talk made Nancy think of Ned Nickerson, her longtime boyfriend. As a member of his college football team, he had to get ready for the big Thanksgiving Day game and hadn’t been able to come to New York.

  “Nancy, look!” Bess exclaimed, stopping short on the sidewalk.

  They had arrived at Fifth Avenue, and Bess was staring at the window of a fancy jewelry store. “Do you like that bracelet?” Bess asked, pointing to a gold bracelet studded with diamonds and emeralds. “It’s on me—as soon as I make my first million, that is.”

  The two broke out laughing. As they continued their window shopping, Nancy marveled at the beautiful clothes and shoes. Before long, they arrived at Saks Fifth Avenue, one of New York’s most exclusive department stores. Inside, makeup counters of every kind stretched as far as the eye could see. Holly branches and twinkling white lights were already decorating the ceiling, signifying the start of the holiday season.

  Bess hesitated near the entrance. “You know I’ve always loved this store,” she said. “But now that we’ve been behind the scenes at Mitchell’s, I feel like a traitor shopping here.”

  “Me, too,” Nancy agreed.

  They turned to leave. Right across the street was Rockefeller Center. The plaza area was decorated with branches of colorful fall leaves twisted into artistic shapes.

  “Now, this is New York,” Nancy said as they crossed the street and walked through the plaza. At the far side, they paused at a railing and gazed down at skaters who were gliding along on the ice of the rink below. Music blared from speakers, and the setting sun glinted off the ice.

  “Hmm, where are my sunglasses?” Bess rummaged through her bag. Finally she looked up at Nancy. “I think I lost them,” she said. “They were my favorites, too.”

  “Where’s the last place you had them?” Nancy asked, flipping up the collar of her coat. As the sun set, the chilly November air suddenly seemed a lot colder.

  Bess’s brow furrowed into lines of concentration. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I know I had them in the cab on the way to the parade studio in Brooklyn. After that I don’t remember.”

  “Maybe you left them there,” Nancy said. “We’ll call Jill and ask her to bring them with her when she returns to the store—that is, if they weren’t destroyed in the fire.”

  They watched the skaters for a few more minutes and then found a pay phone on the street corner. Nancy fished in her pocket for the card with Jill’s number on it and handed it to Bess, who inserted some change in the pay phone and dialed the number.

  “Hi, is Jill Johnston there? This is Bess Marvin,” Bess spoke into the receiver. After a short pause, she said, “Hi Jill, it’s Bess. I just realized I lost my sunglasses, and I think maybe I left them there. I was wondering if you could—”

  Bess stopped speaking. She had a confused expression on her face. “Um, s-sure. I’ll be right there.”

  “Bess, what is it?” Nancy whispered.

  Bess slowly hung up the phone. She looked as if she were in shock.

  “Bess, is everything okay?” Nancy asked. “What did Jill say?”

  “I told her that I left my sunglasses, and then she—I—” Bess broke off and covered her face with her hands. When she finally looked at Nancy, two thin tracks of tears stained her cheeks.

  “Nancy, the detectives think the explosion at the warehouse was deliberate.” Bess swallowed hard before continuing. “They want to question me right away!”

  Chapter

  Three

  NANCY STARED AT BESS in disbelief. “They want to question you?” she echoed. “Bess, there has to be a mistake. Are you sure you heard her right?”

  “I’m positive,” Bess said, obviously distressed. “The police think I may have caused the explosion!”

  “I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. We’ll straighten it out when we get there,” Nancy said, giving Bess a quick hug. “They probably just want to ask if you saw anything odd.”

  During the taxi ride to Brooklyn, Bess stared silently out the window. When they arrived at the warehouse, Neil and Jill were talking to a heavy-set, gray-haired officer on the sidewalk outside the building. Two younger officers were checking to make sure the police barriers were in place. Except for two police cars, all the other emergency vehicles had gone. The fire was out, but a terrible smoky smell hung in the air.

  “Detective Green, this is Bess Marvin and Nancy Drew,” Jill introduced the girls to the older man. Lines of worry were etched into Jill’s brow.

  “Ms. Marvin?” the detective asked, running a finger over his bushy gray mustache.

  When Bess nodded, the detective reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag containing the charred remains of a pair of sunglasses and a book of matches from the River Heights Café. “Are these yours?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Bess answered slowly. “How did you—?”

  “Bess, I told them they were yours. I remembered them from the car ride,” Jill explained.

  “I—I don’t know how you have them,” Bess said, looking confused. “They must have fallen out of my bag.”

  Detective Green gave Bess a dubious look. He stepped over to one of the police cars and returned with a second plastic bag. This one contained a charred red-and-white plastic box with a timer attached. Nancy stared at the box in surprise. It had to be the timer that had been used to set off the explosion!

  “Have you ever seen this before?” the detective asked Bess.

  “No. Never,” Bess replied, shaking her head. She looked as if she was about to cry. Nancy couldn’t remain silent any longer.

  “Detective, Bess was with me all day long,” she said, stepping forward. “I’ve known her almost my whole life, and she would never do anything like this.” She pointed at the bag with Bess’s glasses in it. “Besides, what do Bess’s sunglasses have to do with the explosion?”

  The detective shot Nancy a glare that said he didn’t appreciate her intervention. Neil Steem stepped forward and explained. “They were found lying near the acetylene torches, Nancy,” he told her.

  “They must have dropped out of Bess’s bag when she fell near the tanks earlier,” Nancy explained.

  The detective jotted a few words in his notepad, then shifted his gaze back to Bess. “Ms. Marvin, why don’t you tell me everywhere you’ve been today?”

  Bess took a deep breath, then began retracing her steps from the time she and Nancy had left Eloise Drew’s apartment that morning. When she finished, the detective stepped away to confer with the two other police officers. They had finished checking the police barriers and were waiting nearby.

  Nancy tried to give Bess an encouraging smile, but Bess merely stared down at her feet.

  “Ms. Marvin,” Detective Green said, returning to the group, “so far the only evidence we have—and I’ll admit it’s not much—points to you as the one who
set up the explosion. So I’m going to have to ask you not to go back to River Heights just yet.”

  Bess’s face was bright red. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she nodded wordlessly. A moment later, Detective Green gestured to the other officers. After saying goodbye to Jill and Neil, they got into their cars and left.

  “Jill, I’m so s-sorry, but I really didn’t do anything wrong,” Bess stammered, giving Jill a beseeching look.

  Jill hesitated for a moment. “I—I know,” she finally said, rubbing her temples as if she had a headache. “Look, it’s over. I’m sure the police will find out what really happened. Let’s try not to think about it.” Despite her words, Jill didn’t look entirely convinced of Bess’s innocence.

  “This job’s not all fun and games, huh, Jill?” Neil said, patting Jill on the back. “At least there’s still enough time to repair the damaged floats and balloons before Thanksgiving.”

  Nancy turned to gaze at the studio warehouse. “Was there a lot of damage?” she asked.

  “Come on. You can see for yourself,” Jill said with a sigh. “We were pretty lucky. The fire was put out right away, and the floats were far enough away from the tanks that they only received minor damage. And most of the balloons were at the other warehouse,” she explained. She stepped past the police barricades and used her ID card to unlock the outside door, then led the way down the long hallway to the studio.

  The group paused inside the studio door to look around. The floor and wall close to the tanks were completely burned. Small yellow caution triangles had been laid out on the floor. Some of the windows had been blown out, leaving shattered glass everywhere, and there was considerable water damage. But farther away from the tanks there was less damage.

  Jill pointed to the cat balloon Nancy had seen earlier. Its face was charred, and one paw was nothing more than a large burnt hole.

  “Is there any word on how Jules is doing?” Bess asked, her voice barely above a whisper.