Danger on Parade Read online

  “We called the hospital and found out that he’s okay, except for a sprained wrist and a slight concussion,” Neil answered. “They’re keeping him overnight in the hospital for observation.”

  Glancing at her watch, Nancy realized that it was already a quarter to five. She and Bess were due to meet Greg at Young You in just fifteen minutes. Still, she didn’t want to leave if Jill needed them. “Jill, is there anything we can do?” Nancy asked.

  Jill forced a smile. “No, no. Neil and I can handle it,” she said wearily. “I’m sorry I had to call you back, but the police insisted.”

  Nancy was lost in thought while Jill called them a taxi. She knew that Bess hadn’t had anything to do with the explosion, but someone had. Two questions kept nagging at Nancy: Who was responsible? And why had they done it?

  • • •

  “I know I’m going to jail,” Bess said glumly twenty minutes later. A cab had just let off Nancy and her in front of a brownstone building at Thirty-sixth Street and Seventh Avenue.

  “Bess, the police didn’t say anything about jail,” Nancy said, hesitating outside the building. A brass plate next to the door read Young You. Even though they were a few minutes late, Nancy didn’t want to go in when Bess was still so upset.

  Bess rubbed at an imaginary spot on her leather jacket. “Once Greg finds out about this, he’s never going to like me. He’ll think I’m a criminal.”

  “If he really likes you, he’s not going to believe you’re a criminal.” Nancy pulled a mirror out of her purse and handed it to Bess. “Here. Put on some more of that Plum Rose lipstick. I bet Greg will love it.”

  “You think so?” Bess asked hopefully. She quickly freshened her makeup, then squared her shoulders and said, “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Inside, the girls were greeted by a red-haired woman sitting behind the reception desk.

  “Hi, we’re supposed to meet Greg Willow,” Nancy explained to the woman.

  “Oh, you must be Nancy and Bess,” the receptionist said with a smile. “Come with me.” They followed her down a hall lined with framed covers of past issues of Young You and knocked lightly on one of the doors. “They’re right in here,” the receptionist said, pushing the door open.

  Greg was sitting on a bright green couch in the office, across from two women. A man with a camera was poised in front of him snapping pictures. Rob Dunn was sitting at a table to the side. Apparently the interview had already started, but Greg stopped speaking and introduced Nancy and Bess to the reporter, Gwen, and the photographer, whose name was Darren.

  “Crisis! Crisis!”

  Just as Nancy and Bess joined Rob at the table, a woman breezed into the room. “We have a crisis!” she cried, throwing her hands in the air.

  “What is it?” Gwen asked. “By the way, this is Cheryl, our beauty editor,” she told Greg, Nancy, Rob, and Bess.

  “My two models for the make-over spread are stuck in a snowstorm in the Denver airport. The stylists and photographer are waiting for them right now. I have two pages in the February issue to fill, and no models!”

  Cheryl stopped speaking and looked at Nancy and Bess. “Who are you?” she asked abruptly.

  When the girls introduced themselves, the beauty editor continued to stare at them. “I could hire two other models, but you two look like naturals,” Cheryl said. “How would you like a make-over at Salon Salon? Are you available now?”

  Nancy and Bess looked at each other. They’d read about Salon Salon in magazines. “Nancy, that’s where movie stars get their hair cut!” Bess said, looking excited for the first time since their talk with the police.

  “We’re definitely available,” Nancy told the beauty editor.

  “I’ll meet you two at the salon when my interview is over,” Greg said. “Good luck!”

  Salon Salon was located on the fifth floor of Mitchell’s, which was just a few blocks away from Young You. As they walked over to the store, which was open until nine that night, Cheryl explained that Mitchell’s had agreed to do the shoot to promote their new line of cosmetics. She gave them each a Young You T-shirt, which she asked them to wear for the shoot.

  When they reached the salon, Nancy and Bess were introduced to Ricardo, who ran the salon. After changing into the T-shirts behind a screen that had been set up, the girls posed for some “before” photos, to show the readers what they had started out looking like. Then Ricardo and his staff took over, washing, cutting, and styling the girls’ hair. The photographer flashed away, recording each step so the magazine’s readers could see the process for themselves.

  At first, Nancy felt self-conscious with the camera clicking away at her. But as she became more involved with watching Ricardo as he cut and set her hair, she forgot all about the photographer.

  While Nancy’s hair was still twisted up with some spongy pink curlers, a makeup artist began working on her face. A second makeup artist was working on Bess in the next chair. Before long, Cheryl and two assistants set up the white backdrop that the girls were to stand in front of to show off the finished results.

  Nancy glanced over at the next chair as Bess’s long blond hair was being combed out. The eye shadow and blusher the makeup artist had chosen perfectly complemented Bess’s blue eyes and rosy complexion. Bess was smiling at her reflection—she seemed to have completely forgotten about the explosion.

  As Ricardo pulled out Nancy’s rollers, she turned to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair fell to her shoulders in soft reddish blond waves. The makeup artist had chosen a dusty rose blusher, a blue-gray eye shadow, and a lipstick in a reddish pink. Nancy had to admit that the colors looked great on her, and the white T-shirt set off her face perfectly.

  “Voilà!” Ricardo said, running his fingers through Nancy’s hair. “Beautiful.”

  “Okay! Over here for photos of the results and then you’re free to go,” Cheryl announced, gesturing for the girls to stand in front of the white backdrop.

  Just as they got out of the chairs, Greg and Rob walked into the salon. The two young men whistled when they caught sight of Nancy and Bess.

  “Who are these two beauties?” Greg asked Rob. “I thought we were meeting Nancy and Bess.”

  “I don’t know, but let’s ditch Nancy and Bess and ask these models to dinner instead,” Rob answered, grinning.

  Cheryl looked back and forth between Nancy and Bess, and Greg and Rob. “Hey! I just had a great idea,” she said. “The February issue means Valentine’s Day. Why don’t you two heartthrobs join the action and pose with Nancy and Bess for some pictures?”

  The two guys looked at each other. “Why not?” Greg agreed.

  It took only a few minutes for them to change into Young You T-shirts. Then the makeup artists dusted a little powder on their faces and combed their hair. The photographer flipped on some music, and the four stepped in front of the white backdrop.

  “Okay, just dance. That’s it. Smile, turn toward me,” the photographer called out.

  Nancy swayed to the beat along with the others, while the photographer snapped dozens of pictures. After a few minutes, the photographer looked up from the camera and said, “How about a hug? A group hug.”

  Nancy felt herself smooshed between Rob and Greg as the four of them pulled together. Before long, the photographer yelled, “That’s a wrap!”

  “That was fun.” Bess giggled as she stepped away from the backdrop.

  Cheryl came over from her position behind the photographer and thanked them. “You were great. Give my assistant your addresses, and we’ll send you some advance copies.”

  “Well, now that you look so beautiful, how would you like to accompany me to a dinner party at Café Morelli?” Greg asked Nancy and Bess. “Neil organized it for all the guests of the Mitchell’s parade. Rob, you’re invited, too,” he added.

  “I’d like to, but I’ve got lines to learn,” Rob said regretfully. “I’m auditioning for a part in an off-Broadway play,” he explained to the girls.

 
“What about you two?” Greg asked, turning to Nancy and Bess.

  “Count me in,” Bess quickly answered.

  Nancy hesitated. There were only three days until Thanksgiving. If someone was trying to sabotage the parade, she wanted to find out who it was. “I’ll meet you there later, okay?” she said. “Right now, I’m going upstairs to see if Jill’s around. I want to talk to her about the explosion.”

  • • •

  “You can go up, Ms. Drew,” the guard at the employees’ elevator told Nancy a few minutes later. “In fact, Ms. Johnston says to give you free access from now on.”

  Nancy rode up to the eighth floor. It was after seven, and the reception desk and open work area were deserted. When she got to Jill’s office, Nancy saw that Jill was leaning forward over her desk, rubbing her temples.

  “More problems?” Nancy asked gently, sitting down next to the desk.

  Jill sighed and looked at Nancy. “Two high school bands just backed out because they don’t have the money to fly to New York, and one of the celebrities is sick and might not be able to make it. I don’t mind working late, but not when it’s all problems!”

  Nancy nodded sympathetically. “I hate to bring it up, but have the police or fire department found out anything more from their official investigation of the explosion?”

  “Nobody saw anything unusual,” Jill replied. “I’m just trying to put it behind me and move on.

  Just then the phone rang. Jill looked at Nancy and rolled her eyes before picking up the receiver. “Hello? Yes, this is Jill Johnston.”

  A look of dread crossed Jill’s face. “What!” she exclaimed in a panicked voice. “When did it happen?” After a short pause, Jill said, “I’ll be right there. I’m leaving now.” Then she hung up the phone and turned to Nancy.

  “That was our security office. They just got a call from the security guard at the parade studio,” Jill said, slipping her arms into the jacket that was slung over the back of her chair. “Someone broke into the warehouse!”

  Chapter

  Four

  WHAT?” Nancy cried out, astonished.

  Jill grabbed her purse and rose to her feet. “I’m not sure of the details, but I have to get over there right away.”

  “I’ll come along,” Nancy offered.

  Jill’s response was a hurried nod as she picked up her phone to call for a car. Five minutes later, the two were speeding toward Brooklyn in the back of a hired black sedan.

  “The night security guard said the cosmetics lab was broken into,” Jill said, clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap. “I can’t believe it! First the explosion and now a break-in.”

  “Are there guards on duty all the time?” Nancy asked. She didn’t recall seeing one there earlier.

  Jill shook her head. “Just at night,” she replied. “We have a guard posted at the main entrance, and he also patrols the building from time to time.”

  “At least this time Bess is in the clear,” Nancy pointed out. “I was with her all afternoon, and she’s with Greg Willow, Neil Steem, and the other parade guests now.”

  “That’s a relief,” Jill said, but her voice remained tense.

  It wasn’t long before they arrived at the warehouse. A police car was already parked in front of the building, and the night guard stood outside the warehouse door. He was talking to one of the younger officers who had been on the scene after the explosion earlier. As Jill and Nancy got out of their car, the guard jogged over to meet them.

  “I was making my rounds, and I noticed the outside door to the lab was open,” he explained. “I went inside and saw that the inner lab had been broken into, as well. Whoever broke into the cosmetics lab got away, though. He got in through one of the windows that was boarded up after the explosion. Come on, I’ll show you. The other officer is inside.”

  Nancy followed the others down the hallway to the lab door and waited while the guard used his card to let them in. He had closed the door after letting the police in. As Nancy stepped through the doorway, she saw the second officer in the restricted lab looking through drawers. He was wearing thin plastic gloves. The guard let them into the restricted area. Nancy decided to start looking for any clues, trying not to be obvious.

  First she examined the lock on the door. There were some fine scratches near the handle. It looked as though the intruder had forced the door open.

  Next Nancy gazed around the lab, but nothing seemed to be out of place. Even the explosion hadn’t done much damage, although she noticed a crack in the room’s glass wall.

  She was just turning to give the room another glance, when a white piece of fabric sticking out from beneath one of the steel counters caught her eye. She bent down and saw it was a handkerchief with the initials L.C. monogrammed on it.

  “I think I’ve found something!” Nancy hurried over to where Jill was talking to one of the police officers. She led them back to where she had found the handkerchief. The police officer, whose badge read Rodriguez, stooped, picked up the handkerchief, and put it into a plastic bag.

  Nancy turned to Jill. “Do you know anyone who has the initials L.C.?”

  “L.C. . . .” Jill echoed, thinking. “No one I can think of. Wait—Louis Clark!” As soon as she said the name, Jill frowned and added, “No, it couldn’t be him.”

  “Who is he?” Nancy inquired.

  “He’s the owner of Clark’s Department Store, Mitchell’s biggest competition,” Jill explained. “He’s tried to undermine us before—planting spies in our marketing department to steal our publicity campaigns, luring exclusive designers away from us . . .” She waved her hand distractedly. “Louis can’t stand the parade because it generates so much publicity and goodwill for Mitchell’s. But I can’t believe he would resort to violence.”

  Nancy met Jill’s sober gaze. “We can’t be sure that this break-in and the explosion are related, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were,” she said. “And so far Louis Clark is our only suspect. I intend to find out more about him.”

  The police officer gave Jill and Nancy a disapproving look. “You don’t know for sure whose handkerchief this is,” he said. “Until you do, I suggest you lay off Louis Clark. Leave this investigation to the police.” With that, he turned and joined his partner, who was making out a report by one of the lab tables.

  Jill frowned after the officer. “It doesn’t sound like the police are going to take a firm stand with Louis,” she whispered to Nancy. “Were you serious about pursuing this case?”

  Nancy nodded. “The only way to prove that Bess wasn’t responsible for that explosion is to find out who was,” she explained.

  “If you’re as good a detective as your aunt says you are, I feel better already,” Jill said, smiling at Nancy. “I’ll give you any help I can, but please keep this quiet. I’d like to keep this away from the press. Any bad publicity would really hurt the parade.”

  Suddenly a forceful female voice spoke up from behind Nancy and Jill. “Okay, Jillie, what trouble are you causing now?”

  Nancy turned to see an attractive woman enter the cosmetics lab. Her jet black hair was swept back into a french twist, and she was wearing a stylish navy blue suit with big buttons.

  “Hi, Aileen,” Jill said. “Aileen Nash, this is Nancy Drew. Aileen is a reporter for Channel Seven news, and she also happens to be my good friend from high school. What are you doing here?”

  “I heard about the break-in over my handy-dandy police radio,” Aileen explained. “Since I’m covering the parade, I figured I’d better get over here.” She tapped a laminated card with her picture on it that was clipped to her lapel. “Thanks to the temporary pass you gave me, the guard let me in.”

  “This is Aileen’s third year covering the parade,” Jill explained to Nancy. “She’s doing a week-long series of stories about the preparations.”

  “So what’s going on? Explosion this morning, break-in this evening. Is there anything I should know about?” Aileen waved in the direct
ion of the outside door. “By the way, I should warn you there are more reporters out there.”

  Nancy listened as Jill told her friend all that had happened. “But that’s off the record, Aileen,” Jill said firmly. “I don’t want any of this in your reports on the parade.” She started resolutely down the hallway toward the exit. “Now I’ll give you and the rest of your colleagues the official version of the story,” she said over her shoulder to Aileen.

  Nancy followed the two women outside, where a dozen reporters and a handful of cameramen stood poised on the sidewalk. As soon as Jill appeared, the cameramen trained their bright lights on her and started their cameras rolling.

  “Hello, everyone. I’m Jill Johnston. I’m in charge of Mitchell’s Thanksgiving Day parade,” Jill began.

  Nancy was impressed by how confident Jill sounded. She didn’t reveal any of the worry Nancy knew she must be feeling. Jill went on to say that the guard had reported a break-in when he had seen doors to a restricted area open. She speculated that perhaps the doors weren’t working properly due to the explosion.

  “What about the explosion?” one of the reporters called out.

  “The police are still investigating, but there are no leads yet,” Jill answered. “Luckily there were no serious injuries or damage. Any other questions will be taken by my office in the morning. Thank you.”

  The lights on the cameras clicked off, and the reporters dispersed, murmuring among themselves. From what Nancy could tell, they seemed to accept Jill’s explanation.

  Jill, Nancy, and Aileen made their way back down the warehouse hallway to Jill’s office. The shattered glass had been swept up, Nancy saw, and plywood had been nailed over the windows to keep out the cold. However, the smell of smoke was very strong.

  “I almost wish Neil had kept this job another year,” Jill said as she collapsed in one of the chairs.

  Nancy gave Jill a curious look. “He used to be in charge of the parade?” she asked.

  “He had the job for two years,” Aileen explained. “This year Jill beat him out for the top position.” Raising an eyebrow at Nancy, she added, “Between you and me, I like working with Jill much better. Neil wouldn’t even let me into the parade studio—said it would ruin the surprise.”