Anything for Love, page 1
Chapter
One
WOW, THIS PLACE IS adorable!” Bess Marvin exclaimed. “I never expected a bed-and-breakfast in New York City to be so—cozy. Good thing your aunt Eloise was out of town.”
Nancy Drew’s blue eyes sparkled. “You mean you aren’t sorry we won’t be staying in her elegant apartment?”
Bess shook her head. “No, I’m really glad Susan Ling’s older sister was able to find this great garden apartment for us. And in the East Village, too. Susan said everything fun happens here.”
“We are lucky,” Nancy said. “I never dreamed that Sally Ling would offer to be our guide for our New York vacation.”
“She’s just like she was when we were in high school,” Bess added. “Sally was always a big sister to all of us.”
They happily surveyed the small but well-furnished living room. Two love seats were upholstered in a soft blue and white plaid, blending with the lush blue carpet.
“George is going to be so sorry she missed this trip,” Bess added.
George Fayne, Bess’s cousin, usually joined Nancy and Bess on vacations. But she couldn’t leave River Heights because the girl’s basketball team she was coaching had scheduled games.
Bess hurried into the next room. “Wait till you see the bedroom,” she called back out. “Fluffy white down comforters on both twin beds.”
Nancy carried her suitcase into the bedroom and grinned when she saw her friend stretched out on one of the beds. “We promised to call Sally to let her know we got in okay.”
Bess popped up. “I’ll do it,” she said. “Maybe there’s still time for her to show us around the studio today.”
“I can’t believe Sally is working on the number one soap opera, Love and Loss,” Nancy said, plopping down on her bed.
“Not just working on it. She’s assistant to the executive producer.” Bess picked up the phone on the nightstand and punched in the numbers. “We’ll probably get the royal treatment.”
“What kind of treatment is that?” Nancy asked innocently, pretending she didn’t know what Bess meant.
“You know. A limo and—” Bess stopped short and held up a finger as Sally came on the line. “Sally,” Bess said, excitement raising her voice. “We’re here—and we love this place.”
Bess began to nod and reached for a pen, but then her expression changed. Nancy waited, wondering what Sally was saying. “What’s wrong?” Nancy asked as soon as Bess hung up.
“There’s been trouble on the show and security is extra tight,” Bess said, frowning. “But Sally’s going to try to get us clearance to visit.”
“So what were you writing down?” Nancy asked.
“Directions to the uptown subway.”
“What? No limo?” Nancy teased.
“Not this time,” Bess admitted sheepishly. “But we are meeting Sally for a cappuccino at a little café near the studio. She promised to explain everything then.”
Nancy patted her friend’s blond head. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty to do in New York without getting on the set of a soap opera.”
Bess smiled ruefully. “I was really hoping to get a good look at how a soap is put together.”
“And maybe get a good look at how some of the actors are put together?” Nancy asked.
Bess grinned despite herself. “That could be a definite possibility.”
Nancy unfastened the barrette holding her ponytail. Her reddish blond hair swung free to her shoulders. “Anyway, it’ll be fun taking the subway uptown like native New Yorkers.”
Bess unzipped one of her suitcases. “What do you think we should wear, Nan?”
“For the subway?” Nancy teased. “Or for the soap opera hunks you still hope to meet?” She opened the suitcase on her bed. “I think I’ll wear my purple sweater and long crinkly skirt. They’re right on top.”
“Great,” Bess said. “I’ll wear my royal blue tunic with the suede skirt. It fits perfectly—as long as I don’t gain an ounce.”
“Hope you have room for the cappuccino,” Nancy said. Bess was always battling her sweet tooth.
After changing clothes and freshening their makeup, Nancy and Bess walked to the subway stop two blocks away. They squeezed into seats on the train, and soon they were climbing the stairs out of the subway stop near the studio. Chilled by the cool April breeze coming off the Hudson River, Nancy zipped up her leather jacket. Though she’d visited New York many times before, Nancy was still fascinated by the mixture of skyscrapers, old buildings, and little stores they passed.
“There’s the café Coffee and . . .” Bess said. “An espresso will sure feel good right now.”
The café sported a blue-and-green awning and large windows. Inside all the tables were taken. Nancy looked around, but Sally hadn’t arrived yet. She turned toward the entrance just in time to see a slender, dark-haired young woman hurry through the door.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Sally said, slightly out of breath.
“Just got here,” Nancy said, smiling. “So relax, we may have a long wait for a table.”
Bess blurted out, “Sally! You’ve changed your hair—you’ve got bangs. They look great.”
Sally’s brown eyes crinkled in pleasure. “Thanks. I was a little nervous about doing it—it takes so long to grow them out.”
Nancy gave her friend a welcoming hug; “They’re very becoming.”
“You two are sure good for my ego,” Sally said. “I wish we had more time to visit, but I have to get back soon.” She pointed to the “menu up on a chalkboard. “This place is known for its coffees and pastries. My favorite is the blueberry scone.”
Bess groaned. “Don’t tempt me.”
“I’ll stick with the cappuccino,” Nancy said.
As the girls placed their orders at the counter, a table became available. “I’ll grab it for us,” Sally said. “You guys bring the coffee.”
Once settled, Nancy thought she had detected anxiety in her friend’s dark eyes, and decided to ask about her friend’s problem. “Sally,” Nancy said, leaning forward. “Bess mentioned that there’s trouble at the studio. Could you tell us more about it?”
Sally hesitated, looking down. “Well,” she said finally. “Our problem might not sound like much to you, but it’s really very serious.”
“Then it’s serious to us, too,” Nancy said.
Sally took a deep breath. “Okay. Someone’s been leaking our show’s story lines to Soap Talk.” Bess’s blue eyes widened. “I read it. It tells everything you want to know about all the soap operas,” she explained to Nancy.
“And some things we don’t want you to know,” Sally said, her tone grim. She then explained that the leaks in the magazine could hurt the show’s high ratings. Viewers could stop watching if they knew how a major story was going to turn out. Then the networks would lose money because they charge advertisers according to the number of viewers a show has.
Nancy sipped her cappuccino thoughtfully. “So what you’re saying is these leaks could eventually affect everyone’s job on the show.”
“Exactly,” Sally said.
Bess brushed a wisp of blond hair behind her ear. “But I don’t see why we can’t visit the set, Sally. We don’t know the story lines—so we couldn’t possibly tell anyone.”
“We’ve been barring all visitors,” Sally said. “It’s just a precaution—until we discover how the information is being passed on to a particular columnist.” As Bess looked crestfallen, Sally smiled, obviously saving her news for a surprise. “So I asked my boss, Peter Gardiner, to make an exception in your case.”
“Did he?” Bess asked eagerly.
“Actually,” Sally said, whipping out two passes from her purse, “he invited you to meet him in his office.”
Bess beamed. “Isn’t it lucky I wore my blue suede skirt!”
The girls returned their empty cups to the counter and then quickly made their way around the corner to the Premiere Broadcasting building. A good-looking young blond guy dashed out of the building and into a waiting cab. “Wow,” Bess blurted out. “Is he a new actor on the show?”
Sally grinned, leading them into the building. “That’s Zack, our music coordinator. He’s a neat guy.” In the lobby a security guard handed them a ledger to sign. They then continued on through heavy doors into a waiting elevator, where Sally punched a button for the third floor.
Peter Gardiner was a tall, rather gaunt man, with a few flecks of gray in his dark hair. His office, filled with paintings and sculpture, was twice the size of the entire apartment Nancy and Bess were staying in. He rose from behind an antique mahogany desk to greet his visitors. “You’re the young detective Sally’s been telling me about,” he said, shaking Nancy’s hand.
Nancy glanced at Sally, who avoided her eyes. “This is my friend, and associate, Bess Marvin,” Nancy responded. Whatever happened, she wanted to make sure that Gardiner included Bess.
Bess reddened slightly, appreciating Nancy’s introduction. Nancy saw, with some amusement, that Bess kept glancing at the framed photos of actors on the wall. She stole a few glances herself as Gardiner repeated much of what Sally had already told them.
“These story line leaks are very rare in our industry,” he said. “If an employee, at whatever level, is found to be the source, he or she would not only be fired, but would never again be hired by another show.”
Nancy was pretty sure she knew what was coming. A glance at Bess showed that she, too, was expecting the same thing. Gardiner put their
“Surely, there are other people you could ask,” Nancy said. “I’m really in New York on vacation.”
Gardiner frowned and ran his hand through his hair. “I understand your reluctance, Nancy. But if we bring in a total stranger, it would arouse suspicion, especially if the leak is coming from someone on the inside, as we’re pretty sure it is. We can explain your presence more easily because you’re a friend of Sally’s.”
Before he could say more, the door flew open, and a large, barrel-chested man, his face contorted with rage, charged into the office, waving a magazine above his shaved head. He slammed it down on Gardiner’s desk and roared, “Either you stop that sneaky redheaded actress from destroying my work, or I’ll destroy her!”
Then he whirled around and stalked out, leaving everyone in shocked silence.
Chapter
Two
I’M SORRY I DIDN’T have a chance to introduce you,” Peter Gardiner said. His voice was calm, but his jaw was tight with anger. “That was Karl Rudolph, our head writer.”
He picked up the magazine that had been thrown on his desk. “It’s the latest issue of Soap Talk. I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.” He turned to Sally. “Have you?”
Sally reddened. “I’m afraid so. I didn’t want to dump it on you as soon as you got in.”
“Unlike Karl,” Gardiner said. “Well, we might as well look at that so-called column, ‘Our Best Guesses.’ ”
“I’ve read it,” Bess said. “Whoever writes it has a pretty good track record in guessing.”
“Unfortunately for us,” Sally said, “these aren’t ‘guesses.’ ”
“I take it there’s been another leak,” Nancy said. Sally’s expression confirmed it.
Gardiner had pulled a pair of glasses out of his breast pocket and began reading aloud: “ ‘Gorgeous, redheaded Laura, a major character on the number one soap, Love and Loss, is going to be killed in an upcoming episode. A good guess says the killer is her estranged husband.’ ” The color drained from Gardiner’s face.
Bess gasped. “Is that true?”
“I can’t believe they would print such an important plot point,” Gardiner said.
“You said there have been leaks before,” Nancy pointed out.
Sally explained that the past leaks had been annoying, but not major. Nothing that would ruin a plot line.
“I guess that explains why Karl was in such a rage,” Gardiner said.
“I understand how you all feel,” Nancy said sympathetically. “It’s no fun reading a mystery if somebody tells you how it ends.”
Throwing the magazine into the wastebasket, Gardiner exploded, “The worst part is, we can’t even change our story line. Not until we find out who’s behind these leaks.”
Nancy explained to a puzzled Bess. “Whoever is giving away the story line could do the same thing with a new ending.”
“You can see our problem,” Sally said to Nancy.
Nancy made another try at staying out of the investigation. “Just the fact that I’m Sally’s friend wouldn’t necessarily explain why I’m hanging around the studio,” she said.
“Sally’s come up with a cover story for you,” Gardiner said as Nancy darted a quick, thanks-a-lot look at her dark-haired friend. Gardiner continued. “We could explain your presence by saying we’ve hired you as a consultant for an upcoming episode about a teen runaway. What do you think?”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Bess said, then, catching Nancy’s eye, added, “Sort of.”
“Look,” Nancy said. “I’m not sure I’m the right person for this job. But I’ll hold off making a decision until I talk to some of your people.”
Gardiner smiled. “Fair enough.”
“And if I do decide to take the case, I’d also like to talk to the ‘Our Best Guesses’ columnist for Soap Talk.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Gardiner said slowly. “First of all, he’d never reveal his source. And second, he might tip off the culprit and cause him or her to be more careful, making our job that much harder.”
Nancy wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t help. “I could make up a reason for seeing him so he’d never know I was investigating the leaks,” Nancy offered. “He’d certainly never reveal his source, but he might drop some clue without realizing it.”
“Well, why don’t you have a look around here first?” Gardiner suggested. “And even if you decide not to take the case, you’ll learn a lot about soaps.”
“I’ll call and get ID cards made immediately,” Sally said quickly. “Who do you want to talk to first?”
“I have to know who has access to the story lines, especially anyone who sees the stories in time to tip off a magazine columnist.”
Sally and Gardiner said that Soap Talk would need the information about a month before publication.
“Story summaries, often called the bible, are prepared months, sometimes a year before they’re written in script form,” Gardiner explained. “The first people to see these summaries are myself and Sally. Next they go to the network people for final approval. Then the writing staff and casting director get copies.
“How about a typist?” Bess asked.
“Karl’s a fanatic about secrecy,” Sally said, rolling her eyes. “He does his own typing and makes his own copies. Then he gives them to us personally.”
“Who else gets copies, besides the people you’ve mentioned?” Nancy asked, looking up from the pad on her lap.
“The set designers are next in line,” Peter Gardiner responded. “But the actors and directors don’t know what’s going to happen until they get their scripts.”
“Which is . . .” Nancy prompted.
“About a week before we tape, or about two weeks before airtime.”
“Not quite enough time to make a magazine’s deadline,” Nancy commented.
“Which rules them out, doesn’t it?” Sally asked. “The actors and directors, I mean.”
“Not really,” Nancy said, putting her pen away. “I’d guess they could get hold of someone else’s copy if they tried.”
Sally and Gardiner admitted that would be possible. No one had ever been told to keep copies under lock and key—until now.
“So, Nancy,” Mr. Gardiner said. “Who would you like to meet with first?”
“The two people most concerned with these leaks—Karl Rudolph, because the leaks ruin his story line, and the actress who plays Laura. She’ll lose her job if her character gets killed off. I take it she’s the redheaded woman Karl referred to?”
Sally nodded. “Aleta McCloud.”
Nancy tapped her pad against her chin. “I imagine Aleta has the most to gain, then, if the story line is changed and her character lives.”
“Absolutely,” Gardiner said, impressed with Nancy’s grasp of the situation.
“So that’s why,” Nancy continued, “Karl is accusing her of ‘destroying his work.’ ”
Sally sighed. “It is a logical assumption. But actors lose their jobs all the time because of story lines. They accept it.”
Nancy wondered just how easily actors really accepted it. “I’d like to start with Karl Rudolph,” she decided. In response to Gardiner’s raised eyebrow, she added, “I’ve found that when people are upset or angry, they often reveal more than they intend to. I might find out more if I talk to Karl now.”
Sally led Nancy and Bess down to the main floor to Karl’s office. “Will you forgive me for getting you into this?” she asked.
“Let’s just say I owe you for being so nice to us younger kids in high school,” Nancy said.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Sally said, stopping in front of a closed door. An ornate brass plate with the name Karl Rudolph on it faced them.
“Take a deep breath,” Sally said, and knocked on the door. They heard Karl bark, “Come in.” Sally shrugged apologetically. Once inside, she introduced Bess and Nancy as consultants for the teen-runaway story. Karl, his bald head shining, acted annoyed.
“I’m not working on that right now,” he said. “I’ve got enough on my mind.”
Nancy and Bess exchanged glances, while Sally tried to soothe the head writer. “Mr. Gardiner thought it would be a good idea for you to at least meet. He also hoped you could take Nancy and Bess on a brief tour of the studio.”
