Read Online 038 The Final Scene by Carolyn Keene - Free Book Online

behind some feathery palms that were planted in a marble urn. “So, Simon and Brady were out of the hotel when you were dangling from that catwalk,” Nancy said. “Interesting.”
    George peered through the palms at Brady, who was putting his arm around an elderly lady’s shoulders while the woman’s husband took a picture.
    “Just look at Brady,” George said. “I can’t believe he’d kidnap Bess or knock a catwalk out from under me. It has to be Simon. Look at him. Would you buy a used car from that man?”
    Nancy studied Simon through the palm fronds, taking in his prissy, overly neat clothes. “Are you sure it isn’t his taste in clothes that you object to?” she teased.
    “It’s his shifty, beady little eyes. But that tie doesn’t help.”
    “Are you two hiding back here?” asked a woman’s voice.
    They turned around to see Brenda Carlton eavesdropping on their conversation.
    “You’d be surprised what you can find outwhile lurking behind a palm tree,” Nancy said, laughing a little.
    “Thanks for the tip.” Brenda chewed thoughtfully on her pencil. “Tell me, what do you think about this so-called kidnapping attempt?”
    “You sound as though you don’t believe it,” Nancy answered carefully.
    “Well, considering Simon Mueller’s track record, it’s a little difficult to swallow. The man has cried wolf too many times to be taken seriously.”
    “What do you mean?” Nancy asked.
    “You mean you don’t know about Simon Mueller’s other ‘kidnappings’?”
    Nancy could see that Brenda was wrestling with her desire to tell her all she knew versus her natural stinginess with information. “I’m surprised you don’t know, Nancy. You’re always on top of everything. Brady is the third star of Mueller’s to have this particular ‘problem.’ The first was five years ago. One of Mueller’s young starlets was snatched. Two days later she turned up safe and sound with some half-baked story about how she subdued her kidnappers and escaped.”
    “Oh, really?” Nancy said thoughtfully as she watched Simon whisper something into the ear of a reporter.
    “And last year,” Brenda continued, “another of Mueller’s clients, an old silver-screen star who was trying to make a comeback, said that three men broke into her home and tried to grab her. The police proved her story was false, but they chalked it up to her age.”
    Brenda fingered the strap on her camera. “Gives one cause for doubt, don’t you think?”
    Nancy looked over at George, who raised one eyebrow. “It certainly does.”
    “Well, it looks as though our conference is breaking up,” Brenda said as the other reporters began to file out the hotel door. “I guess it’s off to the typewriter for me. I hope that one of us can solve this case, Nancy. Frankly, I hope it’s me.”
    Nancy shook her head as Brenda walked away. “Leave it to her to get in the last word.”
    “Look,” George said. “Brady and Deirdre are going into the Palms Restaurant. Do you want to ask Brady where he and Simon were earlier?”
    “You bet,” Nancy answered.
    The girls followed the couple out of the lobby and into the elegant restaurant, Nancy leading the way.
    Once inside, Nancy stopped abruptly, and George barreled into her.
    “What is it?” George whispered.
    Nancy pressed her finger to her lips, then pointed right ahead of them.
    Brady and Deirdre had escaped the reporters and fans by retreating into a quiet alcove that led to the telephones and rest rooms. They were talking in urgent, hushed tones, but the girls were close enough to hear every word.
    “I think we should tell her, Brady,” Deirdre was saying. Her pretty face was drawn into an expression of deep concern, even fear. “It’s too important.”
    “We can’t say anything. It’s not as though we have proof of anything.”
    Deirdre’s voice rose in frustration. “Brady, if you don’t tell Nancy, I will!” Her whole body was tense, her hands clenched into fists