Once Upon a Thriller

  What was Alice Ann saying? Did she know something about the fire today? “Are you still close friends?” I asked.

  “Friends? Close?” Alice Ann scoffed. “We were never really close. I wouldn’t even say we were friends. We were foe—” Alice stopped. And then she went on but in a more measured tone. “Lacey was—well, she kept to herself. Still does, as a matter of fact.”

  I nodded. “Well, it would have been nice to see Lacey today, especially since I hear she rarely makes public appearances to promote her books. And how awful about the fire. I really feel bad for the owner.” I hoped Alice would continue talking about Paige.

  But she just gave me a tight-lipped nod. It seemed like she had remembered that I was a stranger in town and not an old acquaintance to gossip with. I guessed I wasn’t going to find out why Alice felt Paige had something coming to her.

  “Yes, it’s quite a tragedy,” she replied. For a moment I thought I heard sarcasm in her voice, but I couldn’t be sure because she moved on.

  “Have you decided on a book?” she asked, gesturing to the two paperbacks I was holding.

  “I’ll take them both,” I replied. “Thanks again for the help.”

  “Of course,” she said. “I’ll ring them up for you.” It was clear our chat was over.

  A few minutes later I was sitting in a booth at the diner with George and Bess, who were finishing dessert.

  “We almost started to worry about you,” Bess said. “But we went ahead and ordered you an avocado-and-cheddar wrap with hummus. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Well, it’s not Hannah’s fried chicken, but it still sounds pretty good,” I replied. “I’m starving.”

  “So, what did you find out?” George asked.

  “Only that Lacey O’Brien grew up here and keeps to herself, and that Alice Ann Marple, owner of the Cheshire Cat Inn, is no fan of Paige Samuels or Lacey O’Brien. I overheard Alice saying that Paige had it coming to her, and then she started to say that she and Lacey were more enemies than friends.” I knew it would be way too easy if Alice Ann was the one to set the fire, but what did she mean by her remarks?

  I took a sip of water from the glass in front of me.

  “And I bought two Lacey O’Brien books,” I said. I pulled out my copies of Burned and Framed.

  “Nice work,” George said. “Why don’t you give me Burned and you take Framed, and we’ll see if there’s anything to what those girls said about the bookstore fire.”

  “Well, it’s a first step at least,” I said. “But I think we’re just getting started. You don’t think she could have been behind the fire, do you?”

  Bess started to answer, but the waitress arrived with my wrap, and as she placed it on the table, she noticed my books.

  “I loved Burned. I think it was her best yet,” she commented.

  “I just started it, but so far it’s terrific,” I agreed.

  “Lacey O’Brien lives in town, right?” Bess asked innocently. “Does she ever eat here?”

  “Never has on any of my shifts,” the waitress replied. “She doesn’t live in town, though—she has a cabin on Moon Lake. And she’s one of those reclusive writer types. She does one signing a year at Paige’s Pages, but that’s it. No one around here sees her for the rest of the year.”

  So the girls who we saw at the fire and Alice were in agreement about Lacey—she really didn’t show up in town often.

  “We’re staying in a cabin on the lake. Maybe we’ll bump into her up there,” Bess said to the waitress.

  “You never know,” she said with a shrug. “But her cabin is almost completely hidden. You can’t even see the place from the road. I’ve heard that her lakefront is decorated with a huge carving of a brown bear. I’ve never seen it myself, but that’s what a customer told me.”

  Then the waitress leaned into our table and said, “I don’t think folks from around here like her too much. Like she thinks she’s better than everyone who lives in Avondale.”

  She tucked the check under the saltshaker and moved on to take the order of the couple seated at the table behind ours.

  “Wow,” Bess whispered. “I wonder what she meant by that. And I’m totally intrigued by this hidden cabin.”

  “And the bear,” George said. “That’s a great way for us to find the cabin from the lake.”

  “If we could score an interview with Lacey O’Brien, that would be terrific,” I remarked.

  George nodded. “We can still take the canoe out this afternoon,” she suggested. “Maybe, just maybe, we’ll be able to spot that bear and Lacey’s cabin.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said as I picked up the check. “By the way, lunch is on me.”

  I opened my backpack and reached inside for my wallet.

  Then I gasped.

  “What is it?” Bess exclaimed.

  “My wallet,” I groaned. “It’s gone!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Capsized!

  “I THOUGHT NOTHING EVER HAPPENED in Avondale!” George cried. “First a fire and now a lost wallet? Did we bring this bad luck with us?”

  “Oh no,” Bess said. “Do you think it was stolen?”

  “Anything’s possible,” I said, sighing and searching through my backpack again. “I hope not. I’ll have to cancel all my credit cards and get a new license. What a pain!”

  “When did you last have it?” George asked, not wasting a second.

  It took me a moment to retrace my steps, but it came to me pretty quickly.

  “The Cheshire Cat,” I said. “At the gift shop.”

  “Oh, is that where you bought the books?” Bess asked.

  I nodded, breathing a sigh of relief as I pointed to the novels still sitting on the table. My wallet probably hadn’t been stolen—more likely I had flaked out and left it on the counter while talking to Alice Ann.

  “Let’s go. We’ll stop there on the way back to the car,” George said as she went to pay the bill.

  “Thanks, George.” I smiled. For someone with such a great memory when it came to mysteries and clues, I could sometimes be surprisingly absentminded about everyday things like wallets and car keys.

  As soon as we entered the inn, Alice Ann cried out, “I’m so glad you came back! You left your wallet on the counter when you paid for those books. I’ve been waiting for our front desk clerk to return from her lunch break so I could dash up to the diner to return it to you.”

  “Thanks so much,” I said, relieved. “I can be such a scatterbrain sometimes.”

  “Happy to help,” Alice Ann replied. Then she noticed George and Bess behind me. “I didn’t know you had friends with you. Any chance you need a place to stay? We’ve had a few cancellations, so there’s plenty of room here at the Cheshire Cat.”

  “No thanks,” Bess said. “We’ve already rented a cabin on the lake.”

  Suddenly I had an idea. Maybe I could get Alice Ann to open up a bit more after all.

  “Speaking of the lake, the waitress at the diner mentioned that Lacey O’Brien lives up there,” I began. “I know you said she keeps to herself, but any chance you know which cabin is hers? Of course, we wouldn’t bother her, but we’re taking a canoe ride this afternoon, and it might be fun to just pass by.”

  Alice Ann hesitated for a moment.

  “Well, I’m not in the habit of advertising her whereabouts to tourists,” she said. “We may not have ever been close friends, but I suppose the woman is entitled to her privacy.”

  She paused again. I waited, sensing that she was about to give in.

  “Well, I suppose it won’t do any harm . . . but hers is the cabin on the northwest corner of the lake. And you won’t be able to miss it from the water because there’s a massive carving of a grizzly bear on the shore. That monstrosity must have cost her a fortune,” Alice said, and pursed her lips. “I don’t know what she was thinking when she commissioned that piece.”

  “Ummm . . . thank you, Alice. We’ll just paddle by and get a peek at the place fr
om afar,” I told her, knowing full well that Bess, George, and I had other plans.

  Alice Ann nodded curtly. Once again she was acting as though she might have opened up and said too much.

  “You enjoy your books, now,” she said as we thanked her again and headed back out the door and to the car.

  On our way back to the cabin, we stopped at a grocery store to pick up a few supplies. Bess headed to the produce aisle for fruit and vegetables, while George and I picked up some bread, cereal, and milk for breakfast the next morning.

  The three of us met in the checkout line. We were right behind a nervous and tired-looking woman who was speaking with the checkout clerk in hushed tones.

  “—so sorry about the fire, Paige,” I heard the clerk tell the woman.

  With a start, I realized we were behind Paige Samuels, the owner of the bookstore! I glanced quickly at the items she was purchasing, which included a box of heavy-duty trash bags, a large flashlight, a heap of batteries, and a case of bottled water. Then I elbowed George in the side and silently gestured to the woman. George glanced at the supplies and gave me a quick nod, and we both leaned in a bit to hear more.

  “Thank you,” Paige said to the cashier in a quiet voice. “It’s quite a shock.”

  “Do you know what happened?” the clerk replied. “A few people have said that it might have been arson. What do you think?”

  Paige seemed surprised by the suggestion. “No, no,” she replied hastily. “The building is very old, you know. I’m sure it was just an old faulty wire, which is what the fire department thinks. Besides, Carol, why would someone want to deliberately set fire to my store? Alice Ann doesn’t dislike me that much, does she?” And then she laughed.

  George and I looked at each other. Alice Ann? And Paige was laughing? This was too weird. Paige paid the cashier and quickly headed for the exit. As she pulled her car keys out of her pocket, a slip of paper fluttered to the ground. I leaned down and snatched it up. It read: 9-1-14.

  “Excuse me!” I called after her. “You dropped this.”

  She turned back, a startled expression on her face. Then she saw the slip of paper, snatched it from me, and fled without saying thanks.

  “Whoa,” George said as she appeared at my side. “That was beyond strange.”

  “Tell me about it,” I agreed. We headed back to the checkout line and joined Bess, who was busy loading our groceries onto the conveyer belt.

  “What was that all about?” Bess asked.

  “Nothing,” I said softly, not wanting to speak freely in front of the cashier. Bess gave me a puzzled look, but she just shrugged and began bagging the groceries.

  As we headed out to the car, George and I quickly filled Bess in on what she had missed.

  “Weird!” Bess exclaimed. “What do you think ‘9-1-14’ means?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “A date? It could be some sort of code, though.”

  “I bet it is a date: September 1, 2014,” George stated matter-of-factly.

  “Could be,” I mused.

  We drove back to the cabin in silence, mulling it over. Then we unloaded our groceries and put everything in the fridge, put on our bathing suits, shorts, and tank tops, and headed outside. Bess unlocked the equipment shed near the cabin and retrieved the paddles, while George and I carried the canoe down to the tiny stretch of rocky sand just behind our cabin.

  Bess pulled a bright-orange life vest over her head and handed one each to George and me.

  “Ugh,” she sighed. “Why do they have to make these so ugly?”

  “So they can be spotted in a storm,” I replied simply.

  “Thanks, supersleuth,” Bess joked. “It was a rhetorical question, though.” She squinted at the sky. “Speaking of storms, it looks a little dark off in the distance, doesn’t it?” she asked. “Maybe we should wait until tomorrow to take the canoe out.”

  She was right—the sky above the horizon was definitely gray. I pulled out my phone to check the weather.

  “Well, there’s no rain predicted for this afternoon,” I assured her. “So I think we should be okay. And I’m really curious to check out Lacey O’Brien’s cabin.”

  George just shrugged and followed us down to the shore. We climbed into the canoe and pushed off. As Bess and I paddled, George sat back and closed her eyes.

  I looked at the expanse of sky and the deep-green fir trees that ringed the lake. It should have been relaxing, but it wasn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fire and the odd facts and timing surrounding it.

  “I’m really curious to hear what the fire department says. Paige seemed awfully certain it was accidental, but I’m not so sure. And she was so jumpy when I picked up that slip of paper. And I know she’s a recluse, but even though there couldn’t have been a signing, I’m a bit surprised Lacey stayed away.”

  Bess nodded. “Good points.”

  I continued, “And what about Alice Ann? Even Paige pointed out that Alice wasn’t too fond of her.”

  George glanced down at her phone, which was open to a compass app. “We’re here—well, the northwest corner of the lake anyway.”

  She looked from her phone back up at the sky.

  “I’m wondering if maybe we should turn back, though,” she said worriedly. “It’s gotten a lot darker out here, and my hair’s suddenly standing on end because of all the static electricity in the air. I don’t like the idea of being on the water in a lightning storm.”

  “I agree,” Bess said nervously. “And the wind is changing—I can feel it. I’m getting goose pimples on my arms.”

  The sky definitely did look more menacing than it had before, and the wind had picked up. It was growing increasingly more difficult to paddle through the choppy water. But suddenly, out of nowhere, I caught a glimpse of a dark figure on the beach. Two figures, actually: one in the shape of a bear, the other, a human.

  “Look!” I cried out. “Over there. Someone’s on the beach.”

  I gave George and Bess a pleading look.

  “We’re actually closer to this shore of the lake now than we are to our cabin,” George said with a sigh. “I’d rather be near the shore—any shore—than in the middle of the lake if we do run into trouble.”

  “Maybe . . . maybe we can land on the beach and ask for temporary shelter if it starts to storm,” I said.

  Bess sighed.

  “You’re both right,” she agreed. “Turning back now in this wind would be more dangerous than going ashore here.”

  Bess and I paddled hard. The gusts picked up while George gripped the sides of the canoe. The wind started whipping at us from every direction, but there was nothing else to do but press on. If we could make it to the beach, we’d be safe from the storm.

  The shadowy figure watched us from the shore. He or she didn’t wave or yell out to us. It just watched us struggle. I put my head down and used all my strength as I pulled on the paddle. The waves were getting bigger, and every time one hit us, we rocked unsteadily from side to side.

  “Whoa!” Bess cried out.

  “Ugh,” George moaned. “This rocking motion is making me feel ill.”

  “Try to keep the canoe cutting through the water perpendicular to the waves!” I called to Bess over the wind. “That way we won’t tip over.”

  “Okay!” Bess called back as she and I both tried hard to turn the canoe so the bow of the boat was slicing through the waves at a right angle. Suddenly the wind changed, and a swell of water hit us hard from the left, causing us to tip toward the right.

  “Yikes!” Bess screamed. At that moment George pointed to a floating dock that seemingly just appeared.

  “Nancy! Bess!” she shouted. “Watch out!”

  In trying not to hit the dock, Bess and I managed to turn the canoe so that we were once again parallel to the waves. A second later we were hit from the left with another giant swell. Before I even realized what was happening, the boat lurched wildly to the right, throwing us into the violent waters.
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  “Help!” I yelled out.

  But my screams were lost in the wind.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  No Trespassing

  I GASPED WHEN I HIT the lake, sucking down a mouthful of frigid water. Luckily, the life vest kept me afloat as I coughed and spluttered until I had spit most of it out. George and Bess bobbed next to me.

  “Are you both okay?” George yelled, wiping a handful of weeds off her face.

  “I’m fine,” I yelled back as I grabbed hold of the side of the canoe. “Just drank about half the lake, but other than that, I’m okay.”

  “Ugh!” Bess screamed. She combed a muddy twig out of her hair with her fingers, and she was covered in lake gunk. She swam around to the other side of the canoe and grabbed hold as well.

  I glanced toward the beach to wave for help, but the person who was there before had disappeared. That was strange. Whoever it was had just been there a moment ago. Had the person really watched us capsize and then vanished without offering to help? I was certain since we had also spotted the bear that this was Lacey O’Brien’s house.

  “Looks like we’re on our own,” I told my friends. I studied the canoe I was gripping. After we capsized, the canoe had flipped right side up again, only it was now full of water. Then I felt raindrops. So much for getting an accurate weather forecast before we’d set out.

  “Hey! Where did that person go?” George asked, incredulous. “What if we were in real trouble out here?”

  “Maybe they’re going to get help?” Bess said.

  George shook her head. “Doubt it,” she replied. “Nancy’s right—we’re going to take care of this. Do either of you have any idea how to empty a swamped canoe?”

  I could barely hear her above the wind, and we kept screaming back and forth to one another.

  “Well, I did see it in a movie once,” I admitted. “First we’ll have to dump out most of the water. I guess we’ll have to turn it over to do that.”

  George shook her head. “We’re only about thirty yards from shore,” she said. “Let’s swim in and tow the canoe behind us. We’ll wait out the storm on the beach.”