“So what else is new?” George said, grinning.
“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Bess said firmly, “except back to the hotel. Where’s the bus stop?”
Moments later the girls were sitting side by side on a city bus, heading back to the hotel.
As the bus neared the Buckingham Hotel, it stopped at a red light. Through the window Nancy saw a cab pull up to the entrance across the street. Denise Ellingsen got out. She was loaded down with shopping bags, this time from another big Chicago department store.
“That woman sure knows how to spend money,” Nancy observed, pointing to Ellingsen. The three girls watched as a maroon-uniformed doorman opened the heavy brass doors and Ellingsen went inside.
“I wonder where she gets all her money from,” George said. “Could she make it just from being Sally Belmont’s manager?”
“It’s possible,” Nancy said. “Sally Belmont must make hundreds of thousands of dollars every year. And if Ellingsen gets a percentage of that, I guess she can buy all the shoes she wants.”
“Maybe I’ll be a manager.” Bess sighed.
“But maybe Ellingsen got the money a different way,” George said. “Maybe it’s ransom money.”
“There’s just one problem,” Nancy said. “No one’s asked for or paid any ransom. So if she is the kidnapper, Denise Ellingsen is spending money she doesn’t even have yet.”
“Neat trick,” Bess said.
The light turned green, and the bus pulled up to the bus stop. Nancy, Bess, and George got out and waited on the corner for the Walk light.
Suddenly Nancy pointed again. “In one door and out the other.” she said.
Bess and George looked toward the side entrance of the hotel. Peter Thornton peered out from behind the door. First he looked one way, then the other. Then he quickly ran off into the parking lot, carrying a duffel bag.
“That was strange,” George said.
“He seems to be doing a lot of running away lately,” Nancy said. “You know, if he was the guy driving the cab, he would have had just enough time to get back to the hotel, change his clothes, and sneak away again right about now.”
The Walk light flashed, and the girls ran across the street and through the hotel entrance. Denise Ellingsen, still holding her shopping bags, was waiting by the front desk.
Behind the desk a clerk reached into one of the little mail cubicles. He pulled out an envelope and handed it to Ellingsen. She opened it, pulled out a piece of paper, and read it. Then Ellingsen gasped and dropped her shopping bags on the floor.
Nancy hurried across the lobby and picked up Ellingsen’s shopping bags. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
Shaking, Ellingsen handed Nancy the piece of paper. “If you really are a detective,” she said, “you’d better see this,” she said. “Because I don’t know what to do!”
Nancy took the piece of paper from Ellingsen. Stapled to the top corner was an instant photograph of Will Leonard and Sally Belmont holding up the morning edition of a Chicago newspaper. It had that day’s date on it. The TV stars looked tired, and Will Leonard’s clothes were even more wrinkled than usual. Other than that, they looked unharmed.
“They’re still alive,” Nancy said. “That’s good, anyway.”
Nancy quickly read the note. Now she understood why Ellingsen had dropped her shopping bags. The note said:
The Sands of Time are running out. Tune in to the next exciting episode of “Nightside” and watch the stars go out . . . as I execute them one by one.
10
A Major Setback
“You’ve got to do something,” Ellingsen said desperately.
Nancy spoke calmly. “The kidnapper wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of sending us this photo and this note if Sally and Will were already dead.”
“Then what’s he waiting for?” Ellingsen demanded. “He still hasn’t asked for ransom. What else could he want?”
“I don’t know,” said Nancy, “but we’ll probably hear from him again before he does anything to hurt them.”
“We can’t just sit here and wait for him to strike,” said Ellingsen. “We’ve got to find him!”
“That’s exactly what we’re planning to do,” Nancy said. “And we’ve got another clue right here.”
Nancy took a closer look at the photograph of Will and Sally. They were standing against a cement wall. There was a table in the picture, and on the table was a book, a red sweatshirt, and a digital clock.
Nancy squinted, trying to read the title on the book. She could just make out the three words: Death by Fear. It was the book written by Eileen Braddock. And, if Nancy was guessing correctly, the red sweatshirt was also Braddock’s, the one that said “I’m a Fifi Fan” on it. The clock said 9:27 A.M.
“Look at this.” Nancy showed the picture to Ellingsen. “The book on the table was written by Eileen Braddock, and the sweatshirt looks like the one we saw her wearing.”
“I knew it!” Ellingsen exclaimed. “Ever since I found out she was going to be at this convention, I knew she’d cause trouble. She’s had it in for the show ever since ‘Nightside’ rejected her script. She even threatened to sue Will and Sally!”
“That doesn’t mean she’d try to kidnap them,” Nancy said.
“Of course it was Braddock,” Ellingsen said, pointing to the photo. “You’ve got proof staring you in the face.”
Nancy put the photo back in the envelope with the threatening note. “I know the picture seems to point the finger at Eileen Braddock,” Nancy said. “But we still don’t have enough evidence. Why don’t we go find Ms. Braddock and see what she’s up to?”
“That’s easy,” said Bess. “She’s teaching a mystery writers’ workshop this morning. It started at nine A.M. and goes till noon. I was going to take it, but we haven’t had time.”
