Contents
1 Set for Suspense
2 Missing!
3 Sabotage?
4 Runaway Model
5 Friends and Enemies
6 A Chase into Darkness
7 A Clue in the Dust
8 Kidnapped!
9 A Narrow Escape
10 Fire!
11 Danger in Fashion
12 A Vandal at Large
13 Blues in the Night
14 The Puzzle Falls Together
15 The Island’s Secret
16 Ablaze!
1
Set for Suspense
Nancy Drew paused at the curb, waiting for the light to change. A stiff breeze off nearby Lake Michigan whipped a few strands of her reddish blond hair across her face. Just a few blocks away, the skyscrapers of downtown Chicago gleamed in the morning light.
Nancy’s friend Bess Marvin suddenly grabbed her arm. “Look, Nancy, there’s Cindy!” she exclaimed. “There, on that billboard.”
Nancy followed Bess’s pointing finger. Across the street, mounted on the roof of a six-story brick building, was a big poster advertising a sale at a local department store. A tall, slim girl with honey blond hair was shown dashing happily across a street, carrying several shopping bags.
It was their friend Cindy Sunderland, a River Heights girl who had recently moved to Chicago to pursue a career in modeling. With its high cheekbones, tip-tilted nose, and dazzling sky blue eyes, Cindy’s face was unmistakable. No wonder she was fast becoming one of the hottest teen models around.
“Isn’t she terrific?” Bess added. “Just looking at her picture makes me want to go catch that sale.”
Nancy laughed. “Come on, Bess,” she said. “You’ve never seen a sale you didn’t like.”
Bess flushed. “Well, maybe you’re right,” she admitted. “But Cindy’s picture does make that ad stand out. I just know she’s going to be the next big supermodel. And it’s so cool that she asked us to come watch her film this commercial—especially considering that we’ve only met her a few times.”
Nancy giggled. “She could hardly not invite us, you dropped so many hints when we saw her last month,” she reminded her friend. “But I think she wanted a little moral support, too. From what she said, it’s a really big break in her career—to move up from ad photos and fashion shows to TV commercials. It could lead to an acting career someday. I bet she’s pretty nervous.”
Bess nodded. “It’s too bad George had to go on a trip with her family this week. She would have loved to come along.” George Fayne, Bess’s cousin, was the third member of this trio of best friends.
The light changed. As they started across the street, Bess looked around at the run-down buildings. “Nancy, are you sure we’re in the right place?” she asked nervously. She flinched as an elevated train rattled past the next intersection. “Nothing around here looks like a movie studio.”
Nancy grinned. “This won’t be that kind of studio, silly,” she corrected Bess. “Cindy is making a commercial, not a feature film. Come on, the building must be on the next block.”
The address Cindy had given them turned out to be that of a solid-looking brick building with wide-arched windows on the street level. Over the entrance a carved stone panel bore the name MacAllister’s Stores. Elaborately sculpted vines and flowers wound through the old-fashioned lettering.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Bess asked, looking up at the stone panel.
“I have a hunch that MacAllister’s went out of business a long time ago,” Nancy replied. She pointed to a new brass plaque to the left of the entrance. “This is it, all right—The Chicago Film Center. We’re supposed to go to the fourth floor, to Studio 4A.”
The man at the information desk didn’t even look up from his newspaper as they crossed the lobby. The elevator was an old-fashioned one, with a brass arrow above the door that pointed to the floor numbers. The elevator rumbled open, groaned when Nancy pressed Four, and started upward with a creak and a jerk.
“Next time let’s take the stairs,” Bess suggested as something banged loudly against the outside of the elevator cab. “It’ll probably be faster, and I know it’ll be safer.”
The elevator shuddered to a halt, and the door rattled open. The girls stepped out into the middle of a long, high-ceilinged hallway lit mostly by windows at either end. As they followed an arrow to the left, their footsteps echoed on the worn marble floors.
When they reached the metal double doors to Studio 4A, Nancy tried the knob. It was locked. Bess pressed the button on the intercom.
“Names?” a voice crackled through the speaker.
Nancy gave their names, and the door clicked open. Inside was a small, bare, white entry hall.
An unfriendly looking guy in his midtwenties came through the opposite doorway. His brown ponytail and the gold stud in his left earlobe screamed Fashion with a capital F. He wore tight jeans and a half-unbuttoned shirt with a designer logo embroidered on the pocket.
