Let’s Talk Terror by Carolyn Keene

makeup,” Marcy said, checking her watch.
    â€œKnock, knock.” Jack Cole’s voice came from the other side of the door just as Marcy was about to open it. “Brenda asked me to tell you that taping has been delayed,” he said, peeking inside. “Dr. Helen had an emergency, and she can’t get here until one-thirty.”
    â€œOh, no,” Marcy said. “That’s going to costthe Sterns money. And what are we going to do with the audience? They’ll have to hang around for hours!”
    â€œI have an idea,” Susan suggested. “I can arrange for them to have a tour of the center, and then order in box lunches. I can even use the time to drum up a fuller house.”
    â€œSusan, you’re a genius,” Marcy said, beaming at her.
    â€œI’ll go tell Janet,” Jack said, nodding at the girls.
    When Jack left, Nancy turned to Marcy and Susan. “George and I will see you at the taping,” she said, heading for the door.
    â€œWhere are you going?” Susan called after them.
    â€œWhere the stars park their cars,” Nancy quipped, as she and George strode down the hallway. “Pepe’s, here we come.”
    Nancy and George retrieved the Mustang, but it hardly turned out to be necessary. In less than five minutes they pulled up across the street from Pepe’s Garage.
    â€œWell, let’s go in,” Nancy said, opening the car door and getting out.
    Walking with George into the freshly painted, well-maintained garage, Nancy noticed that the small inner glass booth was plastered with publicity photos of models, dancers, and actors. Most were signed “To Pepe—With Love.” Several photos showed aheavyset man wearing one gold earring and a wide grin, his arm flung around the shoulder of various celebrities.
    â€œHey, George,” Nancy said. “Check out the fifth picture from the left—”
    â€œThat’s Samantha Savage before she bleached her hair blond!” George exclaimed.
    â€œHello, girls, something I can do for you?” The chubby man Nancy assumed to be Pepe was walking toward them. “Some gallery, huh? I got even more at home.”
    â€œThere sure are a lot,” Nancy said.
    â€œPepe knows everybody. I got them all,” the garage owner bragged. “I got dancers, I got singers, actors, models, even big-time producers. Everybody parks their car with Pepe.”
    â€œ Producers? Producers like Vic Molina?” Nancy asked, acting impressed.
    Pepe grinned and nodded. He pulled a snapshot from his pocket and showed it to the girls. He and Vic Molina were standing in front of a red sports car. “This is two days ago,” Pepe said. “Mr. Molina keeps all his cars at Pepe’s.”
    â€œWell, I need a garage for my car,” Nancy fibbed. “The last place I used, the spaces were so tiny it got nicked and scraped constantly. Any chance we can check out the facilities?”
    â€œPlease, help yourself,” Pepe said, moving his arms expansively. “We go down three levels. All nice and clean. And plenty of room for every car.”
    â€œGreat,” Nancy said cheerfully. She and George started walking down the railed sidewalk next to where the cars were driven. Nancy wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but that piece of paper could be a lead.
    â€œDo you think there’s any connection between Samantha and the break-in at Susan’s apartment, Nan?” George asked. “I mean, her picture is here, right?”
    â€œFor that matter, so is Vic Molina’s,” Nancy pointed out. “Anyhow, I find it hard to believe that Samantha Savage would break into a second-floor apartment.” Then, suddenly, from the other side of the pillar just ahead of them, Nancy heard voices. She and George froze. The voices were those of Vic Molina and Samantha Savage!
    â€œShe doesn’t care who she hurts,” Samantha was saying bitterly. “All