Action! (5 page)

“Hi, Chief Cody,” I said. “We heard the sirens on the set and I thought I’d take a drive out just to make sure the fire wasn’t at any of our houses.”

“No, the owner of this house isn’t involved in your film,” Chief Cody said. He pointed out a middle-aged man on the front lawn. The man was racing back and forth in front of the burning house, panicked.

From the way the owner was acting, I assumed he was worried about a family member who hadn’t escaped the fire. “Is there someone else inside?” I asked Chief Cody.

“Nope,” he said. “That guy lives here alone. He’s worried about his stuff.”

At that moment the owner gave up on his pacing and ran over to where we were standing. “Aren’t you in charge here?” he demanded.

Chief Cody nodded. “We’re doing everything we can, Jeffrey,” he said in a soothing voice.

“It’s not enough,” Jeffrey snapped. “All of my furniture is going to be ruined.”

“We’re fighting to save your house,” Chief Cody explained. “The furniture can be replaced.”

“No, it can’t!” Jeffrey cried, distraught. “Don’t you
get it? The house is filled with antique furniture. I put all my money into the furniture collection. If it’s destroyed, I’ll be ruined. I’ll be destitute!”

“Now, Jeffrey—” the fire chief began.

“They’re spraying water into the house!” Jeffrey shrieked, pointing to a team of firefighters who had just turned their hoses toward the one part of the house that wasn’t burning.

“They’re wetting everything down to try to keep the fire from spreading,” Chief Cody explained.

But Jeffrey seemed even more agitated than before. “Water will ruin my furniture just as much as fire will!” he cried.

I could tell Chief Cody was losing patience with this owner. After all, his firefighters were putting themselves in danger trying to save the house, and Jeffrey didn’t seem grateful at all.

“Maybe that team can stop wetting things down and just concentrate on getting some of the furniture out?” I suggested.

Jeffrey looked at me, noticing me for the first time. His mouth opened and closed, but he didn’t say anything.

“That would mean sending firefighters into a burning building,” Chief Cody replied. “It’s a dangerous thing to do. We go inside to save people and animals, but not to save furniture.”

“The room over there isn’t on fire,” I said, gesturing to what looked like a large hall or living room. It stuck out from the main structure, as if it had been added on after the house was built. “And the wind is blowing the other way. I’ll bet some of the firefighters could get the furniture out of there without the fire spreading to them.”

Chief Cody shot Jeffrey an annoyed look. “I guess we might as well try,” he said. He turned away and began barking orders to his team through the walkie-talkie.

“I’m so sorry about your house,” I told Jeffrey. “How did the fire start?” He gazed at me blankly. I figured he was probably in shock. “I’m Nancy Drew,” I added. “I’d like to help in any way I can.”

“Th-Thank you,” he stammered.

“Here’s a piece,” called one of the firefighters. Jeffrey turned and ran toward the large armoire that two men had just lugged from the house. It was badly damaged by the smoke and heat, but still in good enough condition that it could be restored to its original state. I felt a little bit better looking at it—at least Jeffrey wouldn’t lose
all
of his antique collection.

But he acted as if it was burned beyond recognition. “It’s ruined!” he cried. “Utterly destroyed!” Jeffrey threw his arms around the armoire in a dramatic
gesture. I noticed him plucking at something on the back of it as he embraced the piece of furniture.

“Get out. Get out now,” I heard Chief Cody command. I looked back at the house to see that the wind had changed. The dark smoke that had been blowing away from the addition had begun blowing in the opposite direction. Clouds of toxic smoke and smoldering embers were now billowing right onto the one part of the house that had seemed safe.

I glanced over at Jeffrey. The poor guy had the worst luck in the world. It didn’t look like they’d be able to save any more of his valuable furniture. The two firefighters who had carried the armoire came running back out of the house just as a spark hit the roof of the addition and set it aflame. One of them went over to Jeffrey and handed him a laptop computer.

“I was able to grab this,” the firefighter said. “Sorry we couldn’t save more.”

Jeffrey took the computer and looked at it for a moment. Then he hurled it back toward the burning house with a bellow of anger. “It’s useless!” he cried. “This is all useless!” He stormed off toward a black SUV parked in the driveway. He got in and peeled out without saying another word.

I shot a look at Chief Cody to see how he was handling Jeffrey’s anger. But the chief was busy organizing
a plan to keep the fire from spreading to the nearby trees and houses. He stood surrounded by about five firefighters.

The house was still in the midst of bright orange flames that leaped into the sky. I could tell that the entire place would be destroyed. My eyes were beginning to sting from all the heat and smoke. It was time for me to leave. But as I turned to go, I realized that something was nagging at the back of my mind. What had Jeffrey been plucking at on the back of his armoire?

The chief and his colleagues were still huddled together. No one was paying any attention to me. So I pulled the collar of my shirt up over my mouth and nose to block out the smoke. Then I took a few steps toward the house, and the armoire, which had been abandoned on the front lawn. I ducked behind the large chest to see if I could find anything on the back. To my surprise, the back of the armoire was an entirely different color from the front. The piece had appeared to be made of rich reddish cherrywood. But the back was beige and made of pressed wood—usually the mark of less expensive furniture. And right in the middle of the pressed wood was a big sticker that read
O’REILLY BROS
.

I frowned and leaned in closer. The edges of the sticker were singed and the smoke had blackened
the lettering. But I could still read it. “O’Reilly Brothers furniture?” I murmured. “How odd.”

O’Reilly Bros. is a big store on the outskirts of town. They sell cheap furniture, the kind that’s made of particle board—in other words, not real wood. The pieces are covered by a thin panel of stained wood so that the furniture looks nice. Usually the kind of people who buy furniture from O’Reilly Bros, are young married couples just moving into their first home, or college kids looking for cheap dorm room furnishings. Definitely not rich guys who live in mansions up in the Mission Hill neighborhood.

But Jeffrey had thrown his arms around this armoire as if it was one of his prized antiques. Could he have been confused and mistaken it for a more valuable piece? Or did this particular armoire have sentimental value for some reason? There had to be some explanation for why a wealthy man who collected antique furniture would have a cheap piece like this.

“I’m going to need you to move back, Nancy,” Chief Cody said, striding up to me. “You’re too close to the fire. A spark might catch your hair or your clothes.”

“Sorry, Chief,” I replied. “I’ll get out of your way.”

I hurried toward my car, fighting to breathe in the
smoky air. At the end of the driveway I spotted a mailbox that I hadn’t seen on the way in. When I saw the name on the side, I gasped.

“Allman,” I read aloud. “That was Jeffrey Allman!” He was the man who had recently retired as the CFO of Rackham Industries. My father and I had been talking about him only this morning.

I shuddered. It was terrible to think of a retiree losing his whole house and all his money. Poor Jeffrey Allman. Compared to his troubles, my stage fright problem seemed completely silly. I started up the car and pulled out. I could hardly wait to get back to the set. After the sad reality of the fire, a little moviemaking glamour would be welcome.

The Natural

T
he instant I set
foot in the makeup trailer, Pam and Degas pounced on me.

“I was about to send out a search party!” Degas joked. He spun the makeup chair around and gestured for me to sit.

“We only have ten minutes to transform you into Esther,” Pam said. “We’re lucky you look so much like her to begin with!” It was true. One of the reasons Morris had asked me to play the Rackhams’ sister was because I happen to resemble the old photos of Esther.

Degas pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail and began forming it into a proper nineteenth-century bun. Pam whipped out my makeup chart. It listed everything she needed to use on my face to make me into Esther. Before production shut down
due to Herman Houseman’s sabotage, these two had spent hours experimenting with makeup on me. Now I could understand why they’d done such an in-depth job. Because they’d figured out what to do back then, they now had a list of everything that was needed. It was as if they had a blueprint of my face; all they had to do was follow their directions, and I’d become Esther Rackham.

Before I knew it, I was made up and on my way to the wardrobe trailer. It was the same story there. I stepped inside, and within five minutes Julie Wilson, the wardrobe assistant, had me costumed in Esther’s long dress.

As I wrapped myself in a robe to keep the dress clean, Luke Alvarez knocked on the trailer door.

“Is Nancy here?” he asked, sticking his head in.

“I don’t know about Nancy, but Esther Rackham is here,” Julie teased.

Luke looked me up and down and whistled. “If you weren’t my sister, I’d want to ask you on a date,” he said.

“Even with this ugly bun?” I asked, putting a hand up to my hair. I wasn’t used to such severe styles. Usually I just let my shoulder-length hair fall loose around my face.

Before Luke could answer, his brother Ben called from outside. “We’re late!”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Nancy,” he said. “But Ben and I have been sent to find you. Morris wants to get started on our scene. It’s the last one of the day, and everyone is anxious to get it over with and go home.”

“I’m ready,” I said, tying the robe closed. With a wave to Julie, I stepped outside. Luke offered me his arm, and so did Ben. I took them both, and the boys practically carried me between them over to the soundstage. They teased me the whole way, making fun of my hair and my ugly black button-up boots. As an only child, I’m not used to being ribbed like that. They were acting exactly how I imagined
real
big brothers would act, and I liked it!

By the time we got to the set, I was having a blast. The scene we were about to film was one in which the whole Rackham family visited the Mahoney Anvil office. Esther thought they were there to buy an anvil for her brothers to use in their new black-smithing business, but the Rackham boys were really there to check out the office. They were already plotting their heist, and they needed to see exactly where in the office Ethan Mahoney’s safe was so that they could plan their break-in.

The whole scene took place while the Rackhams were waiting in the office for Ethan to come in. It was just me and the Alvarez brothers. Harold Safer
was finished filming for the day, but he was still there on set. He came over as soon as I arrived.

“Nancy, you look terrific!” he cried.

“Thanks, Harold,” I said. “I found the fire, by the way. Your house and the cheese shop are both safe.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” He mopped his brow. “This acting job is a lot of fun, but I don’t think it’s going to turn into a whole career. If anything happened to the cheese shop, I’d be doomed.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ben Alvarez interrupted. “You’re a natural actor, Harold. You may have to move to Hollywood after this!”

At that, Harold blushed bright red.

“Speaking of natural actors,” Morris Dunnowitz interrupted, coming over to us, “let’s get Miss Nancy Drew in front of the cameras.”

“Break a leg, Nancy,” Harold said. “I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines.”

“Oh, Harold, you must be exhausted,” I replied. “You don’t have to stay to watch me.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said.

“Neither would we!” added Bess. I turned to see George and Bess hurrying in before the soundstage door was closed.

My heart gave a jump. All my friends on the set were going to be watching? Chills shot down my spine. I’d managed to forget my fear while goofing around with
the Alvarez brothers, but now it was returning full force.

I didn’t have time to focus on my fears, though, because Morris quickly ushered us all onto the set. A production assistant was busy snapping instant photos of the Mahoney Anvil office. As soon as the photos developed, the set dresser, Mary Lupiani, compared them to instant photos taken when the set was first designed. Before any footage could be shot, Mary had to make sure that every prop and every bit of furniture was in exactly the right place. She and her assistants checked every set before every take. It was the only way to make sure the film footage was consistent. I knew that they had to do this, because when the editors sat down to put the movie together, they would use shots from many different takes. When you watch a scene in a movie, you might be watching one actor talking during one take, and another actor reacting during an entirely different take. The editing machines piece everything together seamlessly, but if even one prop changes place from one take to the next, the entire take is useless.