Although I wasn’t as star-struck as Bess, I certainly felt like this was a special moment—a real film crew was about to start shooting a movie in River Heights. The director, Alex Burgess, had worked in my dad’s law office before pursuing his dream of directing films. Neither my dad nor I were surprised when Alex made the move to Los Angeles. Although he had been a diligent paralegal, he’d always been obsessed with movies.
Alex had struggled at first, working in a diner while writing the screenplay for his film, The Hamilton Inn. His sacrifices had paid off though, and now here he was, ready to bring his story to the silver screen.
But it wasn’t Alex the crowd had come to see; it was the star of his film, Brian Newsome, who played a handsome doctor on the hit television drama Hospital Tales. As my friends and I made our way through the shrieking fans, I noticed that many of the girls in the crowd were dressed as nicely as Bess was.
“Nancy! Over here!”
My boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, stood at the front of the crowd with a camera around his neck; he freelances as a part-time photographer for the River Heights Tribune.
Bess barely said hello to Ned, craning her neck toward the side of the parking lot. “Have you seen him yet?”
Ned smiled. “Brian should be here in about fifteen minutes, Bess.”
I caught George rolling her eyes and grinned. George usually has little patience for Bess’s celebrity crushes.
“Nancy, I cannot believe you know the director of an actual movie! This is so cool!” Bess continued.
I nodded, adding, “It’s really generous of Alex to invite us here to see the set!”
George yawned. “Why is the coffee cart closed?” she grumbled. Besides not being a morning person, she also hated being hungry. The combination of the two had turned her into a full-on grouch.
“Several businesses in and around the train station had to shut down for the day to accommodate the shoot,” I explained, “so Alex wanted to do something special for the business owners and employees to thank them. Especially because he’s from River Heights.”
“So they lose a whole day of business and all they have to show for it is a photograph with some fake doctor?” George snorted.
“Um, Hospital Tales is one of the most watched shows on television,” Bess snapped, “and Brian Newsome happens to be an amazing actor, Georgia.”
Everyone knows that the best way to ruffle George’s feathers is to call her by her real name, but I jumped in before George could unleash a snarky comeback. “The movie is paying all the businesses too,” I said. “And Alex invited a few old River Heights friends to come to today’s photo op, like my father and me. He thinks it will be helpful to have familiar faces here.”
“We’re lucky,” Ned agreed, looking up from his camera. “I’ve heard that most movie sets are closed to the public because of issues with security and sound and—”
“Psycho fans?” George smirked, elbowing Bess, who ignored her.
“They’re going to ask everyone to leave the set before they start shooting,” I announced.
“Leave where?” Bess asked hopefully. “Where does the set end?”
“Technically ‘the set’ refers to the area that will be on camera,” Ned replied, “but I’m guessing they’ll clear out the whole train station and the parking lot because it’s filled with their trucks and trailers. Sorry, Bess.”
“So what’s this movie about, anyway?” George asked, yawning again.
“All I know is what I read in the Tribune,” I said. “It’s a mystery about a brother and sister who move back to their hometown to run their family’s old, run-down hotel . . . which might be haunted.”
Bess added, “Brian Newsome will be playing Dylan Hamilton, and Zoë French is going to be playing his sister, Malika. Zoe’s done some television as well as theater and commercials, but The Hollywood Times thinks that The Hamilton Inn could be her big break.”
“I guess those are for the actors, then.” I pointed toward the parking lot entrance, where three long, white trailers were lined up. One of the trailers had two doors labeled “Dylan” and “Malika.” The door to an especially tall trailer was cracked open slightly, and I could see racks of clothes lining the walls. I figured that was the costume trailer.
It was impressive, really: the vehicles, the bright lights, the crew members wheeling crates and trunks of equipment around, the tangle of wires running all over the ground.
“Wow,” I said. “Making a movie is a lot more complicated than pointing a camera and yelling, ‘action!’ ”
“No kidding,” George muttered. “I just wonder how they feed all the actors.”
Ned grinned. “There are pots of coffee and pastries, George.” He pointed to a table covered in breakfast goodies that was set up near the entrance to the train station.
“For us?” George’s eyes widened with joy.
“That’s what I heard!” Ned laughed. “Plus, isn’t that Mayor Scarlett chowing down on a bagel over there? She isn’t part of the crew.”
“If you say so, Ned!” George trotted off happily.
I smiled at Bess. We both knew that the best way to improve George’s mood was by promising free food.
As George waited in line for breakfast, I noticed a fortysomething woman in a wide-brimmed straw hat and brightly colored floral pants speaking angrily to Mayor Scarlett. I toyed with the idea of trying to get closer to hear what she was saying when something bumped softly into the side of my head.
“Oops, sorry,” a voice apologized.
I turned to see a pale girl in her early twenties holding a metal pole with a professional-looking video camera attached to the top of it. I could barely see her features underneath her heavy dark-rimmed glasses. A lone wisp of her chestnut brown hair was visible from underneath a white baseball cap.
I suddenly recognized the girl’s face. “Cora? Cora Burgess? Is that you?” I asked.
She nodded, eyeing me suspiciously.
“I’m Nancy Drew, Carson Drew’s daughter. Alex used to work for my dad.” I stuck out my hand.
She raised her eyebrows in recognition. “Oh, right. Hi, Nancy.” After a few seconds of awkward silence, she took my hand in a feeble shake. Cora was Alex’s younger sister, and I’d met her a few times when she visited her brother in my dad’s office. As I remembered, she hadn’t been terribly friendly back then either.
Just then, George returned with a cinnamon roll in one hand and a croissant in the other. “You guys should get over there if you want some. All the good stuff is going fast,” she announced.
“No thanks,” Cora replied, looking disgusted. “That food has been sitting out since, like, six a.m.”
“Hey, if I remember, it was your dream to go to film school, Cora,” I said, changing the subject.
Cora nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m in my second year. I’m doing a behind-the-scenes documentary about Alex’s movie this summer.”
“Wow, that’s amazing!” Bess exclaimed, clearly impressed. Before I could introduce my friends, Cora said, “Excuse me, I have to get back to it. Nice to see you, Nancy.” She disappeared into the crowd.
“You’d think she’d be more excited about being behind the scenes on a real film set,” George remarked. Flaky bits of croissant fell onto her shirt, and she brushed them off.
“Well, it was her dream to be a filmmaker.” I shrugged. “Maybe she’s jealous that her brother just changed careers,” I snapped my fingers, “and is already directing a movie of his own.”
Ned smiled and patted my shoulder affectionately. “That’s our Nancy,” he chuckled. “Always looking for motives, even when there’s no mystery.”
Carolyn Keene is the bestselling author of the popular Nancy Drew series of books.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Library of Congress Control Number 2014952479
ISBN 978-1-4814-2940-5 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4814-2939-9 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-4814-2941-2 (eBook)
Carolyn Keene, The Clue at Black Creek Farm
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