Let’s Talk Terror by Carolyn Keene Page A

she cares about is herself.”
    â€œDon’t let it upset you,” Vic replied. “The show is finished.”
    â€œWhat about Marcy?” Samantha hissed. “I want her out of the picture, Vic. Know what I mean?”
    George edged a little closer, but as she did so she kicked a soda can. The noise wasn’t exactly deafening, but it was loud enough.
    The producer and star stopped talking. In the silence, George shot Nancy a panicked,apologetic look. Nancy put a hand out to comfort her friend but jerked it back when Vic came storming around the pillar. Angrily, he advanced on Nancy and George, shouting, “Hey! Look at this, Samantha, somebody’s spying on us!”

Chapter

Eight
    S PYING?” N ANCY SAID as indignantly as she could. “Us?” She tried to return the producer’s hard stare.
    â€œHow long have you been hiding here?” Molina demanded, looking from Nancy to George and back again. “And don’t try to tell me you were going to your car. I’d have heard you moving around.”
    Samantha came up behind Vic, her eyes flashing fire. “Who are these girls? Do you know them?” she asked him.
    â€œThey were at the benefit,” Vic answered, sourly. “I believe they’re friends of Marcy’s.”
    â€œFans of Marcy Robbins, Mr. Molina,” Nancy corrected him, thinking fast. “And fans of yours, too. Your show, ‘Southern Star,’ haschanged my life! It’s the greatest show I ever saw!”
    â€œAnd you’re the best singer in the world, Samantha,” George added, playing along. “Your new CD, Heartless —it’s totally awesome!”
    At this, Samantha’s face lost its hard edge. “Thanks,” she told George.
    â€œThat’s why we came down here,” Nancy went on. “To try to get autographs. Oh, please, could you?” Reaching into her pocket, she brought out the pad she always carried to take notes on.
    Vic didn’t know whether to believe Nancy and George or not. “I don’t like people sneaking up on me,” he muttered angrily. “And we don’t give autographs!” Taking Samantha’s arm, he guided her down to his car. With a slamming of doors and a screech of tires, Molina backed out of his spot and sped from the lot.
    â€œSorry, Nan,” George said, shaking her head. “I really goofed. I should have seen that soda can.”
    â€œCome on, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Nancy said comfortingly. “At least we learned something. Vic and Samantha obviously have it in for Marcy. But if either one of them knew I was a detective, they did a good job hiding it.”
    â€œThey were having a secret meeting here!” George said, her voice rising with excitement. “Maybe he and Samantha are working together to get Marcy. Maybe we just broke the case!”
    â€œI wish I agreed, George,” Nancy told her friend. “But we can’t prove a thing against Vic Molina, Samantha Savage, or anybody else. We can’t prove they were anywhere near the studio when Marcy’s photo was ripped or when the phony bomb was planted.”
    â€œTrue,” George said, sounding discouraged now.
    â€œWe’ll just have to keep on working,” Nancy said with determination.
    After a quick lunch at a coffee shop, Nancy and George drove back to the Media Center and parked in the underground garage. Upstairs in the Stern offices, they found Susan in the corridor going to her cubicle.
    â€œNancy! George!” she cried when she saw them. “Guess what?” she said with a smile. “The crowd not only stayed around, it grew! The Sterns think the bomb threat could send our ratings through the roof.”
    â€œLife sure is strange,” George said.
    â€œEspecially life in TV,” Susan joked.
    â€œLook who’s here,” Nancy said as Lieutenant Dunne appeared at the end of the hall. Beside him was a