Ned frowned. “No other guy in the world would put up with this, Nancy. And sometimes, I wonder why I do.”
Chapter
Six
NANCY STARED AT the floor numbers over the elevator door as they lit up, one after another. It was a gray Thursday morning, and she was about to begin her second day of work at Flash. The weather suited her state of mind—dark and cool.
Her fight with Ned had upset her, and she hadn’t slept well. She was in no mood for the fighting and nastiness that had gone on at the magazine the day before.
Luckily, Ned would be there now to help handle any really sticky situations. In spite of their argument, he was going to work at the magazine, just as he’d promised.
Or maybe that wasn’t luck. Ned hadn’t been the greatest conversationalist on the train ride into the city that morning. Obviously, he was still mad about the canceled trip. But Nancy knew she had to push her problems with Ned out of her mind. She couldn’t let them interfere with the case.
Nancy had left Ned a few blocks away from the building where Flash’s offices were housed. She’d decided that they’d get a lot more information if they pretended they didn’t know each other. That way, they could search for clues separately. And with luck, Mick and Sondra wouldn’t think Ned was a spy. Because of their feelings for Nancy, they definitely weren’t going to open up with her. Maybe Ned could get closer to them.
The elevator reached the sixteenth floor, and the doors slid open. Nancy stepped out. Okay, Flash, she thought. I’m ready for whatever you’ve got in store for me today. She walked over to the reception desk. “Hi, Scott,” she said.
“Hey, Nancy, how’s it going today?”
“Okay, I suppose,” Nancy replied noncommittally.
“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, especially so early in the morning, but Mick wants to see you in his office right away.”
“Oh.” Nancy frowned. She was sure it wasn’t going to be very much fun. On the other hand, it was her first real chance to talk to her prime suspect. If she were lucky, she’d pick up a clue or two.
Scott flashed Nancy a sympathetic smile. “I’m really sorry about what Mick put you through yesterday. It’s too bad, because actually Mick can be a pretty nice guy at times. Anyway, he said to send you in to him as soon as you got here.”
“Thanks.” Nancy hung her coat in the closet behind Scott’s desk. She’d been a little nervous about what to wear that day. Flash was a fashion magazine, after all. Finally she’d chosen a favorite rose-colored sweater that brought out the red highlights in her hair and some classic, tailored black pants with low-heeled pumps.
Nancy headed for Mick’s office. She soon found out that it was just as wild as Mick himself. It was decorated with dozens of remote control toys and tacky plastic things, a complete contrast to Yvonne’s high-class image. Mick had everything from toy airplanes that really flew to barking dogs and marching soldiers.
Mick was reclining in a big orange armchair when Nancy came in. His feet were on his desk, displaying a pair of zebra-striped shoes. He was wearing an oversized white suit and a zebra ascot around his neck.
“Hi,” Mick said. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks,” Nancy answered. She walked across the room, almost slipping on the highly polished wooden floors.
“Careful,” Mick said.
Nancy smiled cautiously, settling into an orange chair identical to Mick’s. Obviously Mick was trying to be pleasant and considerate. But why?
“Nancy,” he began. He coughed, embarrassed, and swung his feet off the desk. “I’ve got something to say to you. It’s not easy for me but—well, I’ve got to apologize to you for yesterday. I’m really sorry.”
Nancy stared at Mick in surprise. Was this the same guy who’d humiliated her in the studio? The same guy who’d angrily smashed Yvonne’s vase to bits?
“My sister was on my case about that joke all night,” he continued. “She told me it was completely sick and creepy and that you could have been really scared. Well, I didn’t mean it that way. Who’d leave a real severed head in a props closet? I figured you’d realize it was a joke as soon as you saw the head.”
Nancy wasn’t sure what to make of Mick’s apology. He certainly seemed to mean it. But where had the nice Mick been hiding the day before? Was he trying to gain Nancy’s trust so he could throw her off his trail?
Actually, Nancy thought, Mick had been considerate with Danielle Artman yesterday. And he’d showed concern about her working all afternoon in the darkroom. Still, that didn’t mean the vicious Mick didn’t exist, too.
Nancy smiled slowly. “Thanks for the apology,” she said simply. “I appreciate it. I was pretty worried about all the fighting that went on yesterday.”
Mick pressed his lips together. “That’s another thing I want to apologize for—my outburst in Yvonne’s office. I shouldn’t have stuck you in the middle of my fight with Yvonne. And I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations with her out on you yesterday in the studio.”
“I won’t argue with that,” Nancy joked. She smiled at Mick sincerely for the first time, realizing that her feelings about the art director were changing. Sure, he was more than a little thoughtless, but he no longer seemed like the crazy, malicious person Nancy had first taken him for. He’d behaved badly, and he was apologizing for it. Nancy thought that was honorable. Mick would probably be a really nice guy, Nancy decided, if he hadn’t gotten successful so young.
“Well,” said Mick, “you’ve just got to understand that I never asked for an assistant.” The bitterness was clear in his tone. “Yvonne is driving me insane. She hired you just because it suits some weird plan of her own.”
“It was kind of bizarre that she made me your assistant without telling you about it first,” Nancy admitted.
“Anyway,” Mick continued, “as long as you and I are going to be working together, we’ve got to try to get along. I mean, my problems with Yvonne and MediaCorp aren’t your fault.”
“MediaCorp,” Nancy said, playing innocent. “Isn’t that the international news syndicate? They own just about every newspaper and magazine on the East Coast.”
“Right, and if I don’t watch out, they’re going to own mine, too,” Mick told her. “But I’m not going to let that happen.”
Nancy decided to ask Mick a few more questions about MediaCorp. A master at getting information from people without their even knowing it, she set to work. She stretched her long legs and leaned back in her chair, hoping to make Mick feel less formal
“I used to know someone,” the sleuth said easily, “who worked for MediaCorp. Editor in chief at the Law Review, I think.”
“I hope he wasn’t a good friend,” Mick said with the hint of a smile. “I wouldn’t trust anyone connected with that place.”
“Then you wouldn’t hire anyone who’d once worked for MediaCorp?” Nancy asked.
“No way,” Mick told her. “I hope your friend doesn’t want a job here.”
“Oh, no,” Nancy said quickly. Her mind was racing.
So Mick doesn’t know about David’s old job, she realized. But Yvonne probably did! There was no way she’d hire an editor in chief without knowing his background. Yvonne was that kind of person. And she must have hidden David’s background from Mick.
Nancy pursed her lips pensively. She wondered if anyone else around Flash knew about David—and if not, why not? She let her eyes wander around the office as if they could somehow discover a clue.
Suddenly she noticed something that made her break into a huge grin. Mick had a whole library of mystery novels displayed on shelves near his desk. “You must be a fellow mystery lover,” she said with a laugh, pointing to the books.
“Definitely,” Mick said enthusiastically. “I’ve been reading thrillers ever since I discovered the Hardy Boys back in grade school.”
“Yeah, I always loved them, too,” Nancy smiled. “I’ve been reading a lot of Raymond Chandler lately.”
“I
guess Agatha Christie is still the great master for me,” Mick confided. “There’s always some bizarre twist in her stories that no one else would ever come up with.”
Nancy had to smile. Who would have guessed that Mick was a mystery freak just the way she was? If I don’t watch it, she warned herself, I may end up actually getting friendly with Mick.
Mick stood up and extended his hand to Nancy. “You know, you’re okay,” he said.
Nancy smiled and shook Mick’s outstretched hand. Mick had become human to her that morning—which would help her predict his next move if he really were the culprit.
“You did a good job developing that film yesterday, Nancy. This afternoon I’d like you to help Leslie do a preliminary layout for the next issue. Think you can handle it?”
“I’ll do my best,” Nancy said. “See you later.”
Nancy left Mick’s office and walked toward the reception desk. She felt that she’d made some important discoveries about the case. Now if she could just figure out what it all meant!
Nancy entered the reception area. Scott was nowhere in sight, but Ned was there, talking to Sondra and acting very interested in what she was saying. They were standing close. In fact, it looked to Nancy as though her tried-and-true boyfriend were flirting! At that moment, Sondra let out a peal of laughter and Ned broke into a charming smile.
How could Sondra make a play for Ned? Nancy wondered indignantly. Then she remembered Sondra had absolutely no way of knowing she was going after Nancy’s boyfriend. But Ned should know better!
Still, Nancy had to give Ned the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just trying to get information and pick up clues from Sondra. But there was no reason for him to stand so close to her in order, to do it. No way was she going to stand around and watch her boyfriend flirt with another girl!
Nancy took two steps forward. And at that moment, two piercing screams cut through the morning calm.
Chapter
Seven
THAT WAS YVONNE!” Nancy cried. She made a dash for the publisher’s office, Ned and Sondra momentarily forgotten. What could have happened?
Nancy threw open the door. Yvonne was standing by her desk, staring horrified into one of its drawers.
“Yvonne!” Nancy exclaimed. “Are you all right?”
“I—I thought it was just a toy until it moved,” Yvonne gasped.
Nancy glanced around. Most of the Flash staff had followed her into Yvonne’s office. Ned and Sondra were right behind her. Mick looked on uncertainly and David’s steel-gray eyes surveyed the commotion impassively.
Nancy crossed the room and peered into Yvonne’s desk. At first she didn’t see what had scared the publisher. Then something started to crawl. It was a huge, hairy black spider with pinkish legs—a tarantula!
“Where did this come from?” Nancy asked softly, leaning closer to examine the spider.
“I d-don’t know,” Yvonne sputtered. “I just opened the drawer and there it was!”
Nancy picked up an empty coffee mug and laid it in the desk drawer, its rim facing the spider. She prodded the creature with the end of a pencil until it began crawling into the cup. “We’d better save this for evidence.”
But Yvonne pushed by, a paperweight in her hand. “No way am I going to leave that thing hanging around here!” She brought the weight down on the spider.
Nancy stared for a second. But by that time Sondra had already begun yelling at her brother. Of course, Nancy thought with a little mental shrug. This is Flash. Why did I expect to get through the morning without at least one major fight?
“Mick, how could you?” Sondra was crying. “Yvonne might have been bitten! You are taking these practical jokes way too far. They’re not funny anymore!”
A look of confusion, fear, and hurt crossed Mick’s face. “Wait a minute, Sondra. Are you saying I’m responsible for this? You think I’m crazy or something?”
“Well, who else could it be? No one else around here pulls creepy jokes.”
“I’d never get near that miserable spider.” Mick shuddered. “The rubber ones you brought in for Danielle Artman were bad enough. Besides, I’m not into dangerous jokes. You know that!”
Nancy watched the exchange closely. Mick really did seem shocked that his sister would assume he was responsible. Then again, maybe he was just a very good actor.
Suddenly Nancy remembered that David had just come back from South America. Isn’t it interesting, Nancy thought. That’s one of the areas where you can find tarantulas. With his connection to MediaCorp, the editor in chief was beginning to look more than a little suspicious.
In ones and twos, the others left the office. Nancy was by no means too wrapped up in the case to miss Ned and Sondra walking out together, but right then there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Last to leave were Mick, still clearly upset by his sister’s accusation, and David, who gave Yvonne a kiss on the cheek first.
“How are you feeling?” Nancy asked Yvonne as soon as everyone had cleared out of the office.
“A little shaken,” the publisher replied, dropping heavily into her chair. “But okay, I guess.”
“This is something I think the police should know about immediately,” Nancy said, taking a seat on the leather couch. “I don’t have a single concrete clue, so I have no way of judging the situation, but I do know one thing—this case has gone far beyond practical jokes.”
Yvonne caught her breath sharply. “No,” she said with a fierceness that surprised Nancy. “The reason I hired you was to keep the police out of this. I told you, I’m worried about Mick. I want to keep him out of any serious trouble.”
“It looks as if you’re getting yourself into some, though,” said Nancy.
“But, Nancy, maybe Mick just wanted to scare me.”
Nancy sighed. Yvonne was so sure Mick was behind the things that had happened at Flash. But until that was proven, Nancy was going to keep her eyes open for any and all possible suspects.
“Whoever planted that spider may or may not have known that it wouldn’t kill you,” Nancy replied. “Most people think tarantulas are deadly, like black widow spiders, but they’re not. In fact, a lot of people keep tarantulas as exotic pets without any problems. This one probably came from a pet store. But the thing is, we still don’t know if the person we’re looking for is just trying to scare you or if we’re up against a murder attempt. That’s exactly why I think we should call in the police. We don’t have enough information.”
“My point exactly. The police aren’t interested in suspicions and possibilities. They want facts, crime victims, switchblade knives. They’ll come in here, look around, and do nothing at all. Meanwhile, Mick and Flash will have to bear the media coverage that would follow.”
Nancy sighed. Yvonne was right. Still, she was a detective, not a bodyguard. She didn’t want to feel responsible if another murder attempt occurred and Yvonne got hurt.
Suddenly Yvonne’s face softened. “Please,” she said, almost pleading, “I want you to handle this yourself. For me, for Mick, and for Flash. The next time Mick does something dangerous, we’ll call the police, okay?”
“If you’re still alive,” Nancy replied wryly.
Yvonne broke into a smile. “Great. I knew you’d understand, Nancy. Now I’m going home for a while. I need to cool out after all this.”
“Okay,” Nancy said, getting to her feet. “Do you mind if I have a look around your office? Maybe the culprit left a clue.”
“Go right ahead.” Yvonne stood up and got her coat from the closet. “I’ll lock the door. Then just close it behind you when you leave.” Yvonne slipped into her coat, gathered together a few papers, pushed them into her briefcase and, saying goodbye to Nancy, hurried out.
Nancy got right to work, checking Yvonne’s desk drawers first. When she found nothing, she searched the closet and Yvonne’s private bathroom. She even looked beneath the cushions of the couch. It was only when she got down on her hands and knees on the floor, peer
ing into every corner, that she found something. One of the large white buttons from Mick’s suit was lying underneath the desk.
Nancy picked it up. Then, brushing off her pants, she stood up.
It was a small clue. It didn’t prove anything. Mick was in and out of Yvonne’s office a few times a day. He may not have lost the button while planting the spider, but it was a possibility.
Nancy decided she needed more definite clues, clues she just might find in Mick’s office. She knocked on his door. “It’s Nancy,” she called.
“Come on in,” Mick called back.
Nancy opened the door. “Hi,” she said.
“Strange happenings at Flash, huh?” Mick said. “I bet you never had a job like this before, did you?” He was joking, but there was a nervous edge to his voice.
“No,” Nancy said honestly, “I never have.” Now that she was in his office, she had no idea how to get Mick out in order to search it. Well, she told herself, I’ll just have to wing it.
“So what can I do for you?” Mick asked.
“Um,” Nancy stalled, “I wanted to—to ask you if there was anything I can do for you since Yvonne has gone home.”
“No,” Mick said, “just go help Leslie with those layouts.”
“Okay,” Nancy answered. She turned to leave. All at once she slipped on the shiny wood floor and fell flat on her rear. “Ow!” she cried.
“Nancy!” exclaimed Mick. “Here, let me help you. Are you hurt?”
“I think I twisted my ankle,” Nancy replied. She allowed Mick to help her limp to the orange armchair. “I don’t think it’s too bad, but do you think you could get me some ice to put on it? A dancer friend of mine swears it’s the best thing for this kind of injury.”
“Sure,” Mick said, concerned. “There’s some in the refrigerator. It’s just down the hall. I’ll be right back.” He dashed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
As soon as he had gone, Nancy jumped out of the chair. Mick would be gone for just a few minutes. She’d probably only have time to search his desk.