Read Online 004 Smile and Say Murder by Carolyn Keene - Free Book Online
Authors: Carolyn Keene
Tags: Mobilism
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photographs she’d been working on that morning and spread them across the big plank desk.
Mick had asked Nancy to pick out the best pictures from the Danielle Artman shoot. It was harder work than she’d expected because so many of the photos were excellent. Nancy particularly liked one of Danielle kissing a rubber spider.
The work was interesting, and it felt nice to be sitting alone in the quiet office. It almost seemed to Nancy as if everyone else at Flash had taken the day off. No problems with Ned. No Sondra Swanson. No potential murderer lurking in the shadows.
Then the sound of a shot rang through the afternoon!
Nancy dashed into the hallway, glancing at her digital watch as she did. It was exactly ten after two. She saw people rushing to the publisher’s office and raced after them. Someone threw open the door, and the staff peered into the room, terrified of what they’d find.
Yvonne was standing behind her desk, her ashen face wearing an expression of sheer horror. Then, slowly, her body weakened and she sank to the floor as if dead.
Chapter
Nine
N ANCY STARED AGHAST at Yvonne’s prone body. Oh, no, she thought. Yvonne is dead! If only I’d called the police after the murder attempt with the spider!
Nancy rushed over to Yvonne, bent down, and gently took her limp wrist to check her pulse. To her intense relief, the publisher’s heart was pumping like mad.
“She’s alive!” Nancy announced. The staff of Flash let out a collective sigh of relief.
Nancy took the publisher’s pulse a second time, feeling confused. It was funny that Yvonne’s heart was beating so fast. The pulse was supposed to slow down when someone passed out. Nancy shrugged and started massaging Yvonne’s shoulders, trying to wake her.
After a minute, Yvonne sat up groggily.
“Yvonne, what happened?” Nancy asked gently. “We heard a gunshot.”
Yvonne took a deep breath and pointed to the wall above her desk. A bullet was embedded in the wooden paneling. “I guess I fainted,” she mumbled.
“You’re okay now, though,” Nancy told her. “I’ll be right back. I just want to check the fire exit.”
Nancy jumped to her feet and ran to the back staircase. The gunman had to have escaped that way because the whole staff had come barreling down the hall in the opposite direction just after the shot was fired. But no one was in the stairway.
Nancy rushed back to the office and found Yvonne starting to explain what had happened. She was lying on the black leather couch, and someone had rolled up a sweater to use as a pillow.
“I was sitting at my desk working,” Yvonne began, “when I heard my door being pushed open quietly. I looked up and saw a figure—it looked like a man—wearing dark clothes and a ski mask point a gun at my head! I screamed and the man fired. Then he ran away. That’s all,” the publisher concluded wearily.
“I think it’s time to call the police,” Nancy said, looking meaningfully at Yvonne.
“Yes, I guess so,” the publisher replied, avoiding Nancy’s eyes. “Would you call them, please?”
Nancy picked up the phone on Yvonne’s deskand dialed 911, the police emergency number. “Hello,” she said, “there’s been a murder attempt at the offices of Flash magazine. No one’s been hurt, but we need some help.”
Nancy gave the police operator her name and Flash’s address and hung up. Then she let her eyes wander around the office, trying to discover a clue to the mysterious shooting.
She gazed again at the bullet buried deep in the wall. It was high up, only about two and a half feet from the ceiling. The gunman had missed by a long shot, Nancy thought. The bullet in the paneling was much higher than Yvonne’s head would be if she were sitting at her desk. By the look of the hole, Nancy figured the weapon used was probably nothing too powerful. That was surprising, too. Hitmen didn’t usually take chances.
Nancy glanced around at the people in the office. David was
Mick had asked Nancy to pick out the best pictures from the Danielle Artman shoot. It was harder work than she’d expected because so many of the photos were excellent. Nancy particularly liked one of Danielle kissing a rubber spider.
The work was interesting, and it felt nice to be sitting alone in the quiet office. It almost seemed to Nancy as if everyone else at Flash had taken the day off. No problems with Ned. No Sondra Swanson. No potential murderer lurking in the shadows.
Then the sound of a shot rang through the afternoon!
Nancy dashed into the hallway, glancing at her digital watch as she did. It was exactly ten after two. She saw people rushing to the publisher’s office and raced after them. Someone threw open the door, and the staff peered into the room, terrified of what they’d find.
Yvonne was standing behind her desk, her ashen face wearing an expression of sheer horror. Then, slowly, her body weakened and she sank to the floor as if dead.
Chapter
Nine
N ANCY STARED AGHAST at Yvonne’s prone body. Oh, no, she thought. Yvonne is dead! If only I’d called the police after the murder attempt with the spider!
Nancy rushed over to Yvonne, bent down, and gently took her limp wrist to check her pulse. To her intense relief, the publisher’s heart was pumping like mad.
“She’s alive!” Nancy announced. The staff of Flash let out a collective sigh of relief.
Nancy took the publisher’s pulse a second time, feeling confused. It was funny that Yvonne’s heart was beating so fast. The pulse was supposed to slow down when someone passed out. Nancy shrugged and started massaging Yvonne’s shoulders, trying to wake her.
After a minute, Yvonne sat up groggily.
“Yvonne, what happened?” Nancy asked gently. “We heard a gunshot.”
Yvonne took a deep breath and pointed to the wall above her desk. A bullet was embedded in the wooden paneling. “I guess I fainted,” she mumbled.
“You’re okay now, though,” Nancy told her. “I’ll be right back. I just want to check the fire exit.”
Nancy jumped to her feet and ran to the back staircase. The gunman had to have escaped that way because the whole staff had come barreling down the hall in the opposite direction just after the shot was fired. But no one was in the stairway.
Nancy rushed back to the office and found Yvonne starting to explain what had happened. She was lying on the black leather couch, and someone had rolled up a sweater to use as a pillow.
“I was sitting at my desk working,” Yvonne began, “when I heard my door being pushed open quietly. I looked up and saw a figure—it looked like a man—wearing dark clothes and a ski mask point a gun at my head! I screamed and the man fired. Then he ran away. That’s all,” the publisher concluded wearily.
“I think it’s time to call the police,” Nancy said, looking meaningfully at Yvonne.
“Yes, I guess so,” the publisher replied, avoiding Nancy’s eyes. “Would you call them, please?”
Nancy picked up the phone on Yvonne’s deskand dialed 911, the police emergency number. “Hello,” she said, “there’s been a murder attempt at the offices of Flash magazine. No one’s been hurt, but we need some help.”
Nancy gave the police operator her name and Flash’s address and hung up. Then she let her eyes wander around the office, trying to discover a clue to the mysterious shooting.
She gazed again at the bullet buried deep in the wall. It was high up, only about two and a half feet from the ceiling. The gunman had missed by a long shot, Nancy thought. The bullet in the paneling was much higher than Yvonne’s head would be if she were sitting at her desk. By the look of the hole, Nancy figured the weapon used was probably nothing too powerful. That was surprising, too. Hitmen didn’t usually take chances.
Nancy glanced around at the people in the office. David was
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