Read Online Model Mystery Trilogy 01: Model Crime by Carolyn Keene - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carolyn Keene
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complete with grass skirts.
“Hi!” Candy greeted us, sounding a little distracted. “What are you guys doing here? I thought you weren’t stuck doing these silly little wedding skits like we are.”
“We’re not,” I said. “We just wanted to come watch—you know, help out if we’re needed.”
Meanwhile Akinyi was peering out through the gate. “You haven’t seen Sydney, have you?” she asked us anxiously. “She’s late, and Hans is not happy.”
“We haven’t seen her,” I said. “But I talked to her on the phone a little earlier, and she was running a few minutes late. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”
“Told you so,” Candy said to Akinyi. “Honestly, do you really have to turn everything into a huge drama fest?”
Her tone was one of fond exasperation, but Akinyi replied seriously. “Can you blame me, after all that has happened?” she said. “But never mind. Let’s go back in.” She glanced at the guard. “Oh, and it’s okay,” she added, her grass skirt rustling as she waved a hand at me and my friends. “You can let them in.”
“Right,” Candy added. “They’re with us.”
The guard shot me a skeptical glance, then shrugged. “If you say so,” he muttered, waving us by.
“Thanks,” I told the models as all five of us hurried through the tunnel leading into the stadium. “That guy was taking his job pretty seriously.”
George chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t think we were going to get past him if you two hadn’t turned up when you did.”
“No problem,” Akinyi replied with a smile.
There was no answer from Candy. Glancing over, I saw that her attention was focused on something out on the field. Or, rather, some one . When I followed her gaze, it led directly to Vic. He was standing on the stadium’s artificial turf, flexing his muscles as a couple of cameras filmed him. Like the models, he was dressed in a grass skirt and little else.
Akinyi noticed too. “You always did spot him first off, didn’t you?” she said with a slight smile. “Too bad he only had eyes for your sister.”
Candy shot her a sour look. “Very funny,” she muttered. “Come on, let’s get down there.”
My friends and I followed the pair down the nearest set of steps leading onto the field, which was a hive of activity. People were rushing around everywhere I looked, and weird props and bits of scenery were scattered all over the field. Someone had erected a fake pyramid near the fifty-yard line, near which several horses grazed contentedly on a large pile of hay or sipped from a large water trough. At the base of the steps we were descending at the moment, someone had created what appeared to be a small tropical beach, complete with sand, shells, and a full-size palm tree.
Even as I took in the unusual scene, I couldn’t help wondering what that weird little exchange between the two models had been about. But before I could ponder it much, we all heard a familiar voice behind us breathlessly calling out, “I’m here, I’m here!”
It was Sydney. She rushed into the stadium with her mother behind her. Sydney looked beautiful—she was dressed in what I assumed was supposed to be a Hawaiian-style wedding gown. It was pure white, but the fabric included a white-on-white Hawaiian print. Sydney’s red hair was swept up into a loose updo, only a few tendrils spilling out over her bare shoulders.
Most of the camera crew came hurtling toward them to film the bride’s arrival. I had to jump out of the way as the bushy-browed cameraman almost crashed into me.
“Excuse us! Please step aside, if you don’t mind.” Donald the PA came bustling up to us, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, you guys. The bride’s entrance is part of the show. Can you watch from over there?”
We obediently stepped back out of camera range. Donald rushed away as Vic strode toward his bride, beaming happily. Sydney paused at the edge of the fake beach as her mother hurried off out of view. Bo and
“Hi!” Candy greeted us, sounding a little distracted. “What are you guys doing here? I thought you weren’t stuck doing these silly little wedding skits like we are.”
“We’re not,” I said. “We just wanted to come watch—you know, help out if we’re needed.”
Meanwhile Akinyi was peering out through the gate. “You haven’t seen Sydney, have you?” she asked us anxiously. “She’s late, and Hans is not happy.”
“We haven’t seen her,” I said. “But I talked to her on the phone a little earlier, and she was running a few minutes late. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”
“Told you so,” Candy said to Akinyi. “Honestly, do you really have to turn everything into a huge drama fest?”
Her tone was one of fond exasperation, but Akinyi replied seriously. “Can you blame me, after all that has happened?” she said. “But never mind. Let’s go back in.” She glanced at the guard. “Oh, and it’s okay,” she added, her grass skirt rustling as she waved a hand at me and my friends. “You can let them in.”
“Right,” Candy added. “They’re with us.”
The guard shot me a skeptical glance, then shrugged. “If you say so,” he muttered, waving us by.
“Thanks,” I told the models as all five of us hurried through the tunnel leading into the stadium. “That guy was taking his job pretty seriously.”
George chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t think we were going to get past him if you two hadn’t turned up when you did.”
“No problem,” Akinyi replied with a smile.
There was no answer from Candy. Glancing over, I saw that her attention was focused on something out on the field. Or, rather, some one . When I followed her gaze, it led directly to Vic. He was standing on the stadium’s artificial turf, flexing his muscles as a couple of cameras filmed him. Like the models, he was dressed in a grass skirt and little else.
Akinyi noticed too. “You always did spot him first off, didn’t you?” she said with a slight smile. “Too bad he only had eyes for your sister.”
Candy shot her a sour look. “Very funny,” she muttered. “Come on, let’s get down there.”
My friends and I followed the pair down the nearest set of steps leading onto the field, which was a hive of activity. People were rushing around everywhere I looked, and weird props and bits of scenery were scattered all over the field. Someone had erected a fake pyramid near the fifty-yard line, near which several horses grazed contentedly on a large pile of hay or sipped from a large water trough. At the base of the steps we were descending at the moment, someone had created what appeared to be a small tropical beach, complete with sand, shells, and a full-size palm tree.
Even as I took in the unusual scene, I couldn’t help wondering what that weird little exchange between the two models had been about. But before I could ponder it much, we all heard a familiar voice behind us breathlessly calling out, “I’m here, I’m here!”
It was Sydney. She rushed into the stadium with her mother behind her. Sydney looked beautiful—she was dressed in what I assumed was supposed to be a Hawaiian-style wedding gown. It was pure white, but the fabric included a white-on-white Hawaiian print. Sydney’s red hair was swept up into a loose updo, only a few tendrils spilling out over her bare shoulders.
Most of the camera crew came hurtling toward them to film the bride’s arrival. I had to jump out of the way as the bushy-browed cameraman almost crashed into me.
“Excuse us! Please step aside, if you don’t mind.” Donald the PA came bustling up to us, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, you guys. The bride’s entrance is part of the show. Can you watch from over there?”
We obediently stepped back out of camera range. Donald rushed away as Vic strode toward his bride, beaming happily. Sydney paused at the edge of the fake beach as her mother hurried off out of view. Bo and
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