Nancy groaned inwardly. It was clear that this guard would be pretty useless in a real emergency!
“Have you seen anything suspicious?” she asked again. The guard shook his head and replaced his earphones.
Sighing, Nancy gave up. Turning her attention back to Marilyn Morgan, she decided to see what Otto Liski knew about her bitterness toward Hal.
She found the producer in the control room, talking to Bill Steghorn. “Bill, you’ve got to have your people fix the lighting over Hal Taylor,” Otto Liski was saying. “It’s been really unflattering recently. He’s looking a little green around the gills.”
“I don’t think it’s the lighting,” Bill replied. “But I’ll speak to Clay Jurgenson about it—he’s in charge of the lighting this afternoon.” He spotted Nancy and gave her a friendly nod on his way out of the control room. “Too bad Hal isn’t easy to light, like Marilyn,” he mumbled.
When Nancy told Mr. Liski that she needed to speak with him privately, they retreated to a prop room just off one of the hallways leading from the newsroom. It was filled with puppets and sets from an afternoon children’s show.
“Let me just move this,” Mr. Liski said, sweeping aside an oversize panda bear from a stool. He sat down, then looked questioningly at Nancy. “Now, what did you want to ask me?”
Nancy perched on an oversize rocking chair. Without divulging the details of her lock-picking, she described what she had discovered about Marilyn’s vindictive behavior toward Hal. Otto Liski listened carefully, then shook his head.
“I just can’t believe that Marilyn could be behind these threats,” he said firmly. “She’s difficult, but she’s not that kind of difficult. No, I have other worries where Marilyn is concerned,” he continued. “I’ve been hearing rumors that she’s negotiating with a national network. That could spell disaster for our ratings.”
“Those rumors are true—I’ve seen the letters from the network,” Nancy told him. “If you ask me, that gives her even more motivation to destroy Hal and this newscast.”
“That’s a good point,” Mr. Liski admitted. He rubbed his chin distractedly. “We’ll have to talk about this later, though. Right now I have to check the story lineup for the news.”
Nancy followed the producer back to the news studio, then remembered her promise to call Bess with an update. She saw an empty office with a phone in it. Bess’s shift at the restaurant didn’t start for another hour, so Nancy called her at home.
“Thank goodness nothing else terrible has happened,” Bess said after Nancy had filled her in on the day’s events. “Oh—I forgot to tell you yesterday, but I think one of the girls I work with knows Hal.”
It might not be much of a lead, thought Nancy, but it couldn’t hurt to follow up on it. “See if she knows anything about the attacks, okay?” she asked.
“Sure,” Bess told her. “By the way, isn’t Ned coming home soon?”
“Tomorrow,” Nancy said, and smiled. She hoped she’d be able to see him over the weekend—case or no case. After promising to talk to Bess again soon, she hung up.
As she was walking past the news taping studio, the floor director called to her, “Over here, Nancy!”
As she went over to him, she noticed that the atmosphere had become thick with tension. Even the guard had taken off his headphones and was watching alertly.
“I need your help,” the floor director told her. “Hal and Marilyn have controls by their feet that automatically run the script through the TelePrompTer, like computer paper. But sometimes the paper jams, so you have to yank it a bit. I need you to stand by the TelePrompTer.”
“Sure,” Nancy said, and went over to stand by the machine.
Marilyn walked onto the set and took her seat next to Hal at the anchor desk. She was dressed in a royal blue knit suit, with her hair sleeked back into a sophisticated French twist.
Picking up a stack of papers in front of her, she glanced through the script. She made a face and clicked on her in-studio microphone.
“Otto, this is the third time in a row this week that Hal has introduced the lead story,” she complained. The sound system amplified her words so that they boomed loudly across the studio.
From his position inside the glass-enclosed control room opposite her, Otto Liski threw up his hands in a helpless gesture. “We gave Hal all the lead-ins on the crime series because he’s been working on the story with the reporter,” his reply came echoing back.
“I don’t care who the reporter is. I want my share of lead-ins,” Marilyn said firmly. “It’s in my contract, remember?”
“I remember.” Mr. Liski sighed. “Hal, switch your copy with Marilyn, okay?”
Hal Taylor muttered under his breath, but he tore the top page off his script and handed it to Marilyn. She accepted the paper with a tight smile.
“Fifteen seconds to air,” the floor director announced. “Live shots on standby.”
When the director signaled to Marilyn, the anchorwoman’s expression dissolved into a broad smile. “Good afternoon, this is the Channel Nine Four O’Clock News. I’m Marilyn Morgan,” she said.
“And I’m Hal Taylor,” Hal announced with an equally engaging grin. Their faces bore no trace of the unpleasantness of a moment earlier.
Marilyn read the introduction to the top story, an investigative piece on the housing industry by reporter Gary Krieger. As the news broadcast progressed without incident, the nervous tension on the set gradually began to dissipate.
Nancy had her hands full running the temperamental TelePrompTer, but she was also closely watching Marilyn’s and Hal’s performances. When the camera lights were on, the anchor couple acted perfectly cordial toward each other, chatting amiably between the various news segments that they were introducing. Off camera, however, they lapsed into stony silence.
When the last story, which Nancy had learned was always called the kicker, concluded, Hal and Marilyn signed off by saying goodbye to the viewers. Then the program was off the air.
The production crew burst into spontaneous applause—everyone, including Nancy, was relieved that the broadcast had ended without incident.
“See if you can try not to step on my lead-ins again on the six o’clock news, Hal,” Marilyn commented acidly. Without another word, she stalked off the set.
Hal stared after her before leaving the set. As he headed toward the hallway leading to his office, Nancy joined him.
“Let’s go over that assignment you were telling me about,” Nancy said. In case anyone else was listening, she wanted to make sure she sounded like an intern. Hal didn’t even seem to notice her comment.
“I might have to start a new career as a bus driver,” he grumbled as they rounded a corner. “Between Marilyn’s cold shoulder and these threats I’ve been receiving, this job is beginning to get to me.”
Nancy sniffed as she suddenly picked up an acrid smell. She looked up ahead—then stopped short.
“Look out, Hal!” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm. She pointed down the hallway, and Hal stopped and stared.
Thick black smoke was seeping out from underneath his office door!
Chapter
Six
STAY BACK, HAL—there could be an explosion!” Nancy exclaimed.
Motioning for Hal to stay behind her, she grabbed a fire extinguisher that was hanging on the wall. Both of them were already beginning to cough from the smoke. Hurrying to the door, Nancy ran her hand over it to check for intense heat. It didn’t seem too hot, so she threw open the door.
Flames were licking across Hal’s desk, but the fire hadn’t yet spread very far. Nancy pulled the pin on the fire extinguisher, releasing a whooshing spray of foam that quickly snuffed out the fire.
Seconds later Hal was in the office with her, sadly regarding the smoking remains of his desk. He tapped his favorite glass bird, which was now dripping with ash and foam. The bird obligingly bobbed its head into the now-empty cup of water.
“Well, at least Harry made it
,” Hal said, but his voice cracked with tension.
The smell of lighter fluid hung in the air. There was no question that this fire had been deliberately set, Nancy realized. Belatedly, a smoke alarm in the hallway began ringing. Several other people rushed into Hal’s office, some carrying fire extinguishers.
Nancy glanced up at the ceiling. “The smoke alarm in here has been ripped out,” she said. Turning to Hal, she asked, “What did you lose from your desk?”
Hal gingerly sifted through the blackened, smoking material on his desk, then opened all the drawers. He shook his head. “All my notes on the bribery case—I can re-create those, but the tape I was working on was stolen out of my locked drawer. They must have jimmied it.”
In a whisper only Nancy could hear, he added, “Fortunately, I have the master tape locked up at my house. I had a sneaking suspicion that something like this might happen.”
“Whoever set this fire wanted to send you a message,” Nancy said grimly. “Otherwise, they would have just stolen the stuff.”
Just then the security guard burst into the room and took a look at the damage. He reacted by making a low whistle.
“Did you see anything?” Hal asked the guard.
The guard shook his head. “No, but I was keeping an eye on the set, not back here,” he reported.
“I saw something.” A tall, blond man who had been standing in the doorway stepped forward. He was wearing a technician’s uniform. “I’m Clay Jurgenson,” he said. “I saw someone running away from Hal’s office. The person was wearing a Channel Nine jacket.”
“Was it a man or a woman?” Nancy asked.
Clay Jurgenson shook his head. “Sorry. I couldn’t tell. I just saw the logo on the back of the jacket as the person disappeared around the corner. I didn’t think anything of it until I heard the smoke alarm ringing.”
The sound of a sarcastic chuckle made Nancy glance toward the doorway. Gary Krieger was leaning insolently against the doorjamb. He, too, was wearing a Channel 9 jacket.
“Someone wearing a station jacket—that must narrow down the list of suspects to about twenty or thirty people,” Gary said mockingly. He eyed Hal’s charred desk. “I guess we have ourselves another puffer,” he sneered. “Lots of smoke, not much damage.” He took off down the hallway without another word.
Nancy couldn’t believe that Gary could be so callous toward Hal. She recalled Gary’s behavior during the apartment fire earlier that afternoon. Was it possible that he was behind this blaze?
“I hate to admit it, but Krieger’s right—we all own station jackets,” Hal said.
He looked up as Otto Liski appeared in his office. “Okay, that’s enough gawking. Back to work, everyone.” Once the area had cleared out, he shut Hal’s door and stared glumly at the ruined desk.
“This is getting worse,” he said. “Before now we’ve only been getting threats against Hal. Now there’s been an actual attack.”
“I think it’s time to let the police in on what’s been going on,” Nancy advised him. “I’ve worked with Chief McGinnis on other cases. He and his men can work very discreetly when necessary, so maybe word of the attack won’t leak to the press.”
Otto Liski looked from Nancy to Hal, then shook his head. “I don’t want to risk having the public get wind of this,” he said. “What can we do, short of calling the police?”
Nancy thought for a moment. “So far we know that the arsonist is someone on the inside—there’s too much security for an outsider to be pulling this off, plus Clay saw someone wearing the station jacket.”
She was thinking out loud, piecing her thoughts together as she went. “And since Hal’s notes on the Steve Gilbert story were destroyed, it seems likely that the person is trying to prevent Hal from running his story. I need to check out whether there’s any connection between Gilbert and anyone at the station.” Looking at Mr. Liski, she said, “I’ll need to review your personnel records as soon as possible.”
The producer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Those files are supposed to be confidential,” he said slowly. “But under the circumstances I’ll make an exception.”
Soon Nancy was sitting in an empty cubicle, poring over the résumés and other personal documents of the Channel 9 staff. She paid close attention to the files belonging to Marilyn Morgan and Gary Krieger.
Marilyn’s file revealed little. She had worked at stations all over the Midwest before coming to WRVH and had risen rapidly from weather reporter to anchorwoman. Gary Krieger’s résumé contained an interesting footnote. Under the Hobbies and Interests section, he had described himself as a volunteer fire fighter. It wasn’t enough to link him to the blaze in Hal’s office, but it told Nancy that he was someone who knew his way around fire.
It took Nancy over two hours to go through all the files, so she had missed the six o’clock news. When she returned the files to Mr. Liski’s office, he told her that there had been no incidents during the broadcast. “Did you find anything?” he asked.
“Nothing conclusive,” she told him. “I’d like to question Bill Steghorn, though. Valerie said that he was working outside the tape feed booth last night. Maybe he saw something. In any case, he’s also a possible suspect.”
“You’ll probably find him somewhere back in the equipment area,” Liski said. He pointed to an open utility door. “It’s down that hallway. Keep turning right until you reach a big computer room.”
Nancy wandered down the cool, dim passageways of the station’s equipment area to look for the engineer. In the semidarkness, she was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the feeling that someone was watching her.
“Lost your way?”
Nancy jumped as Bill Steghorn emerged from the shadows. In the gloom, his bearded face with his heavy eyebrows looked vaguely threatening. Then he smiled, and the menacing look was gone.
“No, I came back here to find you,” Nancy replied. “Hal Taylor asked me to pick up some equipment for him.”
At the mention of Hal’s name, Bill Steghorn’s expression darkened slightly. “Hal Taylor,” he said with distaste. “If you’re here for long, you’ll find out that he isn’t exactly a favorite with the production people.”
Nancy pretended to be sympathetic. “I gather he’s not a favorite with a lot of people around here,” she said.
Bill shrugged, then reached down to grab his tool kit and an equipment bag from the floor. Now that Nancy’s eyes had adjusted to the dimness, she saw some fresh duct tape around a cable he had apparently been working on.
“You can never fool the production people about who the good and bad on-air people are,” Bill told Nancy. “We know because we’re the ones who make them look good.” They walked together down the hallway until they stood in front of a row of lockers.
“Hal’s a lightweight,” the engineer went on dismissively. “Now, Marilyn Morgan, on the other hand—she’s a good reporter and a great lady.” He set down his bags and opened his locker.
Remembering that Bill Steghorn was a possible suspect, Nancy quickly scanned his locker for anything that might link him to the recent attacks against Hal. She didn’t see a typewriter or any kerosene, but she noticed that the inside of his locker door was covered with publicity photos of Marilyn.
Bill felt her curious gaze. His heavy eyebrows drew together in a frown as he placed some tools on his locker shelf. Then he slammed the door shut. “What was it that you needed to pick up for Hal?” he asked Nancy.
“Just another clip mike,” Nancy improvised. “His other one was destroyed in the fire in his office, and he used someone else’s for the six o’clock news.”
“Yeah, someone seems to really have it in for him,” Bill said, handing her a microphone from his equipment bag.
“No one seems to have seen anything suspicious, though,” Nancy commented, hoping to draw the engineer into revealing whether he’d seen anything the previous evening.
“Yeah, I was working outside the tape booth last night, and I didn’t see
a soul except for Marilyn and that production assistant, Valerie,” he commented. “Beats me how they got that screwball tape into the broadcast.”
Nancy thanked the engineer for the microphone, then returned to the newsroom. It was nearly seven-thirty, and she suddenly realized that she was famished again. She didn’t know how much more she could find out about the sabotage, so she decided to call it a day and head home for some dinner.
On her way out, Nancy passed by Hal’s office. The anchorman wasn’t there, but a couple of fire fighters were sifting through the ashes, looking for evidence of arson.
As she passed through the lobby, Nancy felt an arm link smoothly through hers. She found herself staring into the sparkling green eyes of Hal Taylor.
“I always take my new assistants out for a bite to eat on their first day.” He grinned. “Since you’re such a special intern, why don’t we make it a special meal? Let’s say, someplace like Le St. Tropez?” Le St. Tropez was one of River Heights’s more romantic and elegant restaurants. Its dining room had a stone fireplace and an intimate atmosphere.
The color rose in Nancy’s cheeks as she felt the warmth of Hal’s touch. “Isn’t that a pretty cozy spot for a business meeting?” she teased.
“It’s not business I have in mind at the moment,” Hal teased right back. “Besides, they have the world’s best beef Wellington. Trust me.”
Nancy felt herself being propelled forward by the force of Hal’s charm. Before she knew it, the two of them were in Nancy’s Mustang on their way to the restaurant. Hal whistled appreciatively as she maneuvered through traffic.
“A bright, beautiful girl who drives her sports car like a pro,” he said, smiling. “Is there anything you don’t do well?”
“Give me a minute and I’ll think of something,” Nancy returned. It’s no wonder that Hal Taylor is so popular, she thought—he’s irresistible!