“That’s really great,” Bess said. “Maybe a center like this would have really helped Mrs. Furstenberg.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, watching the construction workers raise huge wooden piles to support the center’s walls. I was still trying to accept that I would never know the truth about Mrs. Furstenberg’s life, or death. I believed Henry when he said he hadn’t killed her—and he’d remained consistent with that story, telling it over and over again when police, and family lawyers, questioned him about what happened to his mother. They’d argued, and she’d had a heart attack. But a part of me still felt terrible for poor old Mrs. Furstenberg. Henry clearly was a few tacos short of a combo platter. Living with him as her main caregiver for so many years couldn’t have been easy.
In the end, Henry had been charged with attempted murder, trespassing, fraud, and a few other minor charges related to the haunted house hoax. The last I’d heard, his lawyer was arguing that he needed mental help, which I would certainly agree with. If a judge also agreed, he would be moved to a mental hospital for an indefinite term. If not, he faced a significant prison sentence.
Whatever happened, I trusted the courts to sort it out. I just deliver them the crooks—they can decide what to do with them.
“I saw Gavin the other day,” Bess said. “He said his sessions with the therapist are really helping, and he’s enjoying the community work he’s been doing in a nursing home.”
“That’s great,” I said. “I’ve heard through Willa that Owen’s sessions are going well too. They have him teaching a film course to some kids at a family shelter, and it’s helping him put things in perspective.”
Despite Henry’s threats the night he confronted me in the basement, neither Gavin nor Owen got in serious trouble for their role in the haunted house scam. Their lawyers settled for a deal where they would both testify against Henry, and they both got probation and had to see a counselor and do community service.
Bess glanced at me curiously. “How is Willa doing?” she asked. “You still think she really had no idea what her brother and best friend were up to, right?”
“That’s right.” Willa had been stunned by the news of what was really happening on Heliotrope Lane, and she had felt terribly betrayed by both her brother and her best friend. Like Gavin and Owen, Izzy was seeing a counselor, and after a rough patch, she and Willa made up and remained best friends. “She was totally sincere in everything she told me—including that Izzy would freak if I ever tried to talk to her parents. I think she’s learned a lot from this experience—she won’t be so trusting moving forward.”
George frowned. “I guess that’s a good thing.”
“In a perfect world, everyone could be trusting all the time,” I said. “But this isn’t a perfect world. Look what happened to Izzy, Owen, and Gavin—they trusted Henry.”
Bess nodded. “Hey, what ever became of their movie?”
I smiled. Ah yes—the movie they planned to produce with the money Henry was going to pay them for acting possessed. “I think it’s on indefinite hold,” I said. “Willa says all three of them are still scary movie fans—but they’re focusing on their studies for now. I think it freaked them all out a little to realize how far they had gone for their scary movie passion. It’s time to get back to reality.”
Bess and George agreed, and then suddenly the ding of George’s phone in her pocket startled us. She reached in and pulled it out, holding the screen up to her face and smiling.
“Guys,” she said, “amazing news! There’s another horror movie festival coming up! This one goes on all weekend, and—”
Bess stopped her right there. “Are you kidding? George, you remember what happened at the last scary movie, right?”
George looked at her quizzically. “It was really good?”
I laughed. “And we met Willa and Owen,” I reminded her. “And it led to . . . some seriously scary moments.”
George shook her head. “Come on guys, scary movies can be fun—at least in a movie, we all know that the haunting is, well, fake.”
I sighed, then spoke up. “Okay—I’ll go.”
Bess raised her eyebrows. “Seriously, Nancy? You’re ready to go back to another scary movie?”
“Really?” George asked, looking as stunned. “I have to be honest, you know—I was almost suggesting it as a joke.” She paused. “Almost.”
“Sure.” I pointed to the small spray can dangling from Bess’s key chain. “After all, what do I have to be afraid of? Bess just got a new can of pepper spray!”
Dear Diary,
* * *
* * *
* * *
I TOLD YOU I DON’T BELIEVE IN GHOSTS!
And now I remember why. Because there’s always a logical explanation! Here, it was a greedy son, trying to drive down the cost of the house he thought he should have inherited. And I think Henry is a little unhinged, too. I hope that now he’s in custody, he’ll get the help he needs. And I’m glad that Willa and Izzy seem to be working things out. There’s nothing more valuable in life than a good friend.
Speaking of which, thank goodness George and Bess—and Bess’s pepper spray—were there to back me up. There’s no one I’d rather face an angry “ghost” with than those two!
* * *
* * *
About the Author
Carolyn Keene is the bestselling author of the popular Nancy Drew series of books.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Aladdin paperback edition January 2018
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Library of Congress Control Number 2017940051
ISBN 978-1-4814-8547-0 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4814-8546-3 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-4814-8548-7 (eBook)
Carolyn Keene, The Haunting on Heliotrope Lane
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