Peeking through a gap in the curtains, Nancy and Bess watched as the three models circled the stage in a long-legged, hip-swiveling gait. They paused occasionally to pivot, giving the crowd an all-around view of their outfits. One at a time, they strolled to the end of the runway, where the audience could study their bathing suits up close. As the girls left the stage, the audience clapped loudly.
The other three models, in summer-weight cotton dresses so light that they seemed to float, strolled casually onstage. One carried a wicker picnic basket. Another had a red-checked tablecloth over one arm. The third was carrying a huge plastic ant. That got a big laugh from the audience.
Meanwhile, the girls who’d been wearing swimsuits sprang into a frenzy of activity as soon as they were back behind the curtains. A team of dressers pulled new outfits for them off a rack: shorts and microskirts in ragged denim, worn with bright halter tops, camisoles, or tie-front shirts. The dressers helped the models change swiftly.
“Notice how they step into their outfits, instead of pulling them on over their heads,” Bess whispered to Nancy. “That’s so they don’t mess up their hairstyles and makeup.”
“Yeah, but they still have that makeup artist checking them out before they go back onstage,” Nancy said, pointing to a woman in a pink smock standing right behind the curtains. “These girls can change clothes completely in two minutes and look picture perfect. Why does it sometimes take you an hour?”
Bess sighed. “And even then I don’t look as great as they do,” she complained. “It must be because they’re so thin. That does it—I’m going on a diet tomorrow.”
Nancy shook her head at her friend. “Relax, Bess,” she said. “You look just fine the way you are.” Bess gave her a grateful grin.
Each of the models changed several more times. Nancy was amazed at the air of controlled chaos backstage. The show seemed constantly on the point of falling apart, but somehow everything got done just in time. Andreas was everywhere—adjusting one model’s hairstyle, joking with another who seemed nervous, giving last-minute instructions to the woman operating the light board.
Thirty minutes later all the models went out together and held hands for a bow. The drummer gave them a loud, crashing salute and the audience erupted in eager applause.
But as the girls filed offstage, Nancy saw the weariness around their eyes. No question about it, being a model was hard work.
Nancy approached the Asian-American girl. “Hi,” she said, “are you Sally Wu?”
The girl smiled. “That’s right. You’re friends of Cindy’s, aren’t you? Andreas told us you were doing an article about her.”
“Can we talk?” Nancy asked.
Sally nodded. “Tiffany and I are going over to the veggie bar as soon as we get dressed,” she said. “Want to come along?”
“You bet,” Nancy said.
Tiffany turned out to be the African-American who had opened the fashion show in a string bikini. In jeans and a big cotton roll-collar sweater, she looked like a different person. Bess and Nancy followed her and Sally to the veggie bar, a trendy little restaurant also on the third floor.
Once they were seated, Bess ordered a cranberry-carrot yogurt shake. Sally and Tiffany both asked for salads. Nancy ordered a bottle of mineral water.
“Well,” Nancy said, once they had ordered. “We’re researching this profile of Cindy, and we’d like your impressions. How did she feel about doing this new Healthibits campaign?”
“Thrilled,” Sally said. “Scared,” said Tiffany at the very same moment. Then they both looked at each other and laughed.
“Thrilled and scared,” Sally added. “But mostly thrilled.”
“Did you get the feeling that anything was bothering her?” Bess asked.
“Sure,” Tiffany replied. “She had a bad cold. I saw her last week, and she said she felt really miserable. She joked that if she didn’t get well before the day of the shoot, she wouldn’t know whether they were feeding her Healthibits or a bowl of sawdust.”
Nancy was about to ask another question when she noticed Jennifer in the entrance to the veggie bar, scanning the crowd. She spotted Nancy and Bess and hurried over.
“There you guys are,” she said. “Ann Bowers is on the phone for you. She says it’s urgent.” Nancy and Bess followed her back to The Place to take the call.
“Nancy?” Ms. Bowers said. Her voice trembled. “I just came back from the garage. Somebody smashed one of my car windows.”
Nancy paused, stunned. “A thief?” she asked.
“No,” Ms. Bowers replied. “I know it wasn’t a thief, because he left a message for me. It was spray painted in big letters on the side of the car.
“It said, ‘Stop meddling—or else!’ ”
12
A Vandal at Large
As Nancy hung up the phone, she met Bess’s questioning glance. “Somebody has been very busy this afternoon,” she reported. “Ann Bowers just found a message painted on the side of her car—a warning to stop meddling.”
Bess stifled a gasp. “Nan, do you think it’s the same person who slashed your jacket?” she asked. “And who set the fire in Carlo’s studio? Could it be Cindy’s kidnapper?”
“Possibly,” Nancy said. “If there is a kidnapper—which I’m still not convinced of.”
“Well, one thing this tells us,” Bess said. “Ann Bowers is not our culprit.”
Nancy looked dubious. “It doesn’t seem all that likely,” she agreed. “But then again, she could have spray painted her own car to throw suspicion away from herself. Anyway, we’d better go look at her car. Maybe it’ll give us a clue.”
“Maybe we’ll find another footprint of an Ourson running shoe,” Bess suggested.
The girls hurried back to the veggie bar to settle their bill and to apologize to Tiffany and Sally for rushing off. Then they caught a taxi for the short trip to the apartment building on Lake Shore Drive.
They found Ann Bowers pacing back and forth in her living room. “Thank heaven I managed to track you girls down,” she said as they let themselves in the front door. “I don’t know why this incident has upset me so. It’s just so malicious. I shudder to think of poor Cindy in the hands of people who’d do such a thing.”
“Did you report the vandalism to the police?” Bess asked.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Ms. Bowers said. “I had to—the insurance, you know. I’m supposed to go in later and fill out a form.”
