Will Leonard took the note and read it. “You can come in for a minute,” he said finally, opening the door to his room. “But if you tell anybody else my room number, I’ll have you kicked out of this hotel so fast the mystery will be why you ever came.”
“What a charming invitation,” Bess said sarcastically. “We’d love to.”
The girls followed Will Leonard into his room. It was large and comfortable, but it was only one room, not an impressive suite like Sally’s. Will flopped down into an easy chair. He didn’t invite the girls to sit down, so they remained standing.
“The security chief said he got a memo saying a fake mystery would be set up as part of the convention. He’s convinced Sally’s disappearance was the fake mystery,” Nancy said. “What do you think?”
“I agree,” Will said. “Sally’s always trying to be the center of attention. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she set this whole thing up herself just to prove she’s the real star of ‘Nightside.’ I think she’s jealous because I get more fan mail than she does.”
There was a knock at the door.
“See what I mean?” Will said. “My fans have already tracked me down. But I’ve seen enough fans for one day. Whoever you are—get lost!” he shouted.
The knocking became louder and more insistent.
“Don’t you think you’d better answer that?” said Nancy.
Will shrugged. He stood up slowly, walked to the door, and opened it.
No one was there. Will stepped outside and looked up and down the hallway, but it was empty. “I don’t get it,” he said. Then he noticed that something was written on the front of the door. He took off his sunglasses to get a better look.
“What’s the matter?” Nancy asked.
“This dumb stunt has gone too far,” the TV star muttered.
The girls crowded around him.
Spray painted on the door, in bloodred letters, were two words: “You’re next!”
3
The Plot Thickens
“You see?” Bess said shakily. “It wasn’t a setup. And now they’re coming after you, too!”
Will shut the door and flopped back down on the chair. “A little spray paint doesn’t make it real. Sally’s probably doing it to bring even more attention to her stupid practical joke. Well, sorry, Sally. Your plan’s about to backfire.”
Will reached for the phone and dialed the hotel operator. “Get me hotel security,” he said.
“Wait!” Nancy cried.
“Who’s this?” Will asked into the phone. “Ray Sherbinski? Say hey, Ray, this is Will Leonard in Room Twelve-oh-three . . .”
Nancy waved her arms to get Will’s attention, but he ignored her.
“Yes, this is the real Will Leonard. Don’t I sound like him? Anyway, I’d like to make a complaint about Sally Belmont. She just spray-painted my door. Yeah, it’s all part of a publicity stunt. Anyway, I thought you might like to know since she defaced hotel property. Great. See you in a few.”
Will hung up the phone. “We’ll see how Sally likes this publicity,” he said. “This is gonna look great in the National Tattler, BELMONT SEES RED OVER LEONARD’S SUCCESS.” He smiled. “That was a really good headline, if I do say so myself. Don’t you think so?”
The girls didn’t say anything. They just stood there glumly. Barely two minutes later there was a knock on the door. Will opened it to a puff of cigar smoke and Ray Sherbinski.
“Hey, it really is you,” said Sherbinski, breaking into a big smile. “This is the first honest call I’ve gotten all day. My wife watches your show every Tuesday night. You think I can get her your autograph? It would be the thrill of her life.”
Will took a signed photograph off his dresser and handed it to Sherbinski.
“Thanks,” said the security chief. Then he noticed Nancy, Bess, and George. “I thought I just got rid of you three. You sure they’re not the ones who did it?” he asked Will.
“Nah,” Will said. “They were in the room with me when it happened. Besides, like I said, I already know who did it and who messed up the room next door. It was Sally Belmont.”
“Either her or one of you other crazy mystery people,” said Sherbinski. “It gets worse and worse every year. You know, the Chelsea Towers Hotel offered me a job and I’m thinking of taking it. At least they don’t have a mystery convention every year.”
“I hope you do a better job at the Chelsea Towers than you’re doing here,” said Nancy. “I know it must be hard for you with all those false alarms. But you can’t assume every one of them is fake. You have a duty to investigate.”
“Is that so?” Sherbinski raised an eyebrow at Nancy. “And you think you have a duty to tell me how to do my job?”
“Of course not,” Nancy replied. “But someone’s life could be in danger.”
“Yeah, well, I call the shots around here. Remember that,” said Sherbinski. “But just to show you I’m right, I’ll go through the motions.”
“Thank you,” said Nancy in a relieved tone.
Sherbinski paused by the still-open door and scratched at the red paint with a fingernail. Then he headed down the hallway. “I’ll be back later,” he called over his shoulder. Then they heard him mutter, “Crazy mystery people.”
“Okay, Girl Scouts,” Will said, ushering Nancy, Bess, and George out the door. “You’ve done your good deed for the day. Now let the star take a nap. I’m wiped out.”
“Probably from making up that really good headline,” George said under her breath.
“We’re leaving,” said Nancy from the hallway. “But let me just ask you one more question. Why are you so sure Sally Belmont set this whole thing up?”
