Carolyn Keene - Stay Tuned For Danger

“He means me!” Bess cried happily.

“I don’t think so. That’s just talk, Bess. He could mean anybody—or nobody.”

Bess shot her friend an angry scowl, and Nancy decided to back off.

After the interview with Rick, the show moved on to an update of that network’s daytime and evening soap operas.’ Bess snapped the TV off then.

“He said he’d be here in an hour. I can’t wait!” Bess scooped up her makeup and headed for the bathroom. “Hey, I wonder who he’ll bring for you, Nancy. I mean, any friend of Rick’s is probably cute, but I wonder what he’ll be like.”

An hour later the apartment intercom buzzed, signaling the arrival of Rick and his limousine.

Bess checked herself in the mirror one last time. She looked terrific in an oversize cotton cardigan and flowing skirt and flats. “Not bad,” she pronounced. “Come on, Nancy!” With that, she flew down the steps of the brownstone to the waiting limousine.

“Not bad at all,” Nancy admitted, looking admiringly at Rick’s limo. The uniformed driver ushered them into the backseat, where Rick was waiting.

“Good morning, girls!” he said brightly. “Welcome to my abode on the road.”

The first order of business was to pick up Rick’s friend, a guy named Gilbert Frost. “He’s an old pal from acting school,” Rick explained. “You’ll love him.”

Bess threw Nancy a meaningful look, but Nancy just sighed and looked out the window. There was no way that she was going to fall for any of Rick Arlen’s friends—not when she was in love with Ned Nickerson. Of course, Ned would understand her being on this date—she had to go. Someone’s life was in jeopardy.

At the corner of Twenty-third Street and Park Avenue South, she noticed a skinny guy in jeans and running shoes, leaning against a streetlight. He looked totally normal, except that he was wearing big black-rimmed glasses and a false nose.

“What?” Nancy mumbled as the limo stopped in front of him. The man swept down in a low courtly bow.

“Hey there, Gil!” Rick laughed, opening the door. “Girls, I’d like you to meet Gilbert Frost. Say hello, Gilbert.”

“Hello, Gilbert!” the guy mimicked, sliding into the plush limo.

Bess was giggling uncontrollably, and Nancy couldn’t help smiling as Rick’s friend took off his glasses, revealing another pair underneath.

Finally, they pulled back into traffic and Nancy got a good look at Gilbert. Without his getup on, he was pretty cute. He had glossy black hair and warm brown eyes that twinkled with laughter.

“Gil is going to be the next host at the Comedy Basement,” Rick said. “He does stand-up.”

“I also do sit up and grow up,” Gil announced. Everyone groaned.

Throwing a proprietary arm around Bess’s shoulder, Rick instructed the driver to take them to Forty-second Street and the Hudson River.

“Today we’re going to do all those corny things you see in old movies about New York,” Rick said. “Like go on a boat trip around Manhattan and to the top of the Empire State Building. Bess is a very old-fashioned girl,” he explained to his friend.

“Rick Arlen! I am not !” Bess protested. Secretly, though, she was flattered by his remark.

By the time they got to the West Side pier, the four of them were relaxed and having a great time. Before leaving the limo, Rick put on sunglasses and an old hat. That way, most of his face was covered. “Just normal precautions,” he insisted. “These go everywhere with me. Otherwise, the fans—well, I’m sure you can imagine.”

“I think you look adorable like that,” Gilbert said. Rick punched his friend lightly on the arm, and they all piled out of the car.

“So, Gil, how did you get involved in show business?” Nancy asked while they waited on deck for the cruise to start.

“Oh, now we’re going way back—to the day little Freddie Gilbert was born in Illinois in a log cabin— No, no, just kidding. How did I get involved in show business, you ask. Thank goodness someone cares besides my mother.”

In spite of his nonstop chatter and putdown humor, Nancy decided she liked Gil. He seemed a little lonely, somehow, and afraid to be just himself, but instinct told her he had a good heart.

“You see, my real name is Fred Gilbert. I had to change it after I got to New York. There already was a Fred Gilbert out there in the show business stratosphere. And so Gilbert Frost was born. But he had the wrong nose. So I changed that, too. And then I had to darken my hair. By the time I was finished, the same club owners who used to tell me to get lost were dying to sign me. What can I tell you? It’s a crazy business. Maybe someday I’ll even make enough to pay my rent. And if I’m really lucky, I might even hit it big like old Rick here.”

“I’m sure you will,” Nancy said, looking up.

The view from the boat was spectacular—the skyline sparkled in the noon sun.

But as the boat trip continued and they finally circled the northern tip of Manhattan, Nancy couldn’t help feeling that something was wrong. All through the ride, she had been keeping an eye on Rick. And she noticed other people were watching him, too. Nancy saw two women look at him, jab each other, and whisper. And a child tugged on his father’s sleeve and pointed toward Rick. A portly man was also watching him, although he pretended to be looking at something else.

As the boat swung into the final leg of the tour, Nancy recognized the portly man. He had been the one cursing Rory Danner on the tour of the set just two days before.

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen. We will be docking in a few minutes. Please disembark via the white stairs on the port side of the boat. That’s the left, to all you landlubbers,” the tour guide instructed.

“That’s him! That’s Rick Arlen!” a young woman suddenly shrieked.

An excited murmur went through the crowd, and everyone turned to look at Rick.

“Take the hat off, Rory! We know it’s you!” a woman called out good-naturedly. The group laughed, and Rick cooperated.

“Ah, my fans.” He smiled and waved. “You’re the greatest—all of you! I love you madly!”

“Rick, may I have your autograph?” a woman cried happily. Everyone crowded around him and began rifling through their bags for pens, too.

“Write one for my niece, Rick!”

“Oh, Mr. Arlen, thank you!”

Rick was standing by the guardrail signing the backs of envelopes, napkins, address books, and matchbook covers. Suddenly, the man who had been on the studio tour lunged forward, his eyes wild, his voice like thunder. “You killed Jill Rowan, and now you want to destroy Serena Livingstone. Well, I won’t let you! I’m not going to let filth like you near her! You’re going to die, Rory Danner—right now!”

With that, the man lunged for Rick, sending him halfway over the rail. He was about to plunge into the river!

Chapter Eight

Leaping for Rick, Nancy and Gilbert grabbed him just in time and pulled him safely back over the rail. Nancy felt a pair of hamlike hands on her shoulders. She turned to face the assailant and delivered a swift kick to his left shin. Then she seized his hand and flipped him head over heels onto the deck. The ship’s crew then held him pinned against the deck until the ship had docked and the police arrived, followed by a couple of reporters.

“Okay, fella, let’s go,” a police officer said, leading the man to a patrol car. “You’ll feel a lot better after a nice long rest.”

“I killed Rory Danner and the world will be a better place for it!” the man exclaimed. “He was filth! Filth!”

“Sure, sure,” another police officer said, agreeing. “You can tell the doctor all about it.”