Текст книги "Once Upon a Thriller"

Автор книги: Carolyn Keene

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 6 страниц)

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 from 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.

“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.”

Amazingly, we made our way to shore, kicking hard as we towed the boat through the thickening sheets of rain. Luckily, we didn’t see any lightning or hear any thunder as we slogged through the lake. It was slow going, but we finally got close enough to the shore so we could stand and dump the water out before we pulled the boat the rest of the way in.

We collapsed on the ground, soaking wet and exhausted. Dragging that canoe was one of the most physically challenging things we had ever done together. Once we were somewhat rested, I stood up, looked around, and saw that the property was covered in NO TRESPASSING signs.

“Not exactly rolling out the welcome mat, right?” Bess commented. “I guess I understand why that person on the beach disappeared.”

“Well, I’m not going to let those signs stop me,” I replied. “If that was Lacey—or someone else—I want to meet whoever wouldn’t help three people stranded on a lake in the middle of a storm.”

“And we’ve got to make it back to our cabin,” Bess said, which was something I hadn’t actually considered.

The rain had let up somewhat, so George and Bess parked themselves under a tree, while I climbed the wooden steps that led from the shore to the cabin.

I pounded on the back door, waited a good two minutes, and then pounded again. “Hello? Ms. O’Brien?” But nobody came to the door.

When I backed away from the cabin, though, I caught a flutter of curtains at the window beside the back door.

“Hello?” I called out loudly. “Is someone there? We’re just looking for a place to dry off for a few minutes until the storm passes. Hello?”

Still nothing. I waited another minute, but the door remained firmly closed. The curtains didn’t move again.

I returned to the beach and to George and Bess. The canoe was emptied, leaning on its side. Just as quickly as the storm had formed, it had let up.

“I thought I saw the curtains flutter when I knocked on the door, but I could have been mistaken,” I told them, shaking my head.

“What now?” Bess asked.

“We get back in the canoe and then head back to our cabin,” I replied with a shrug. “And we try to figure out why Lacey O’Brien or whoever that was on the beach earlier refused to help us. If that was her, no wonder she has a terrible reputation in town.”

George bit her lip thoughtfully. “It was pretty rude,” she agreed. “Maybe the fire was set to sabotage her book signing—she may have enemies right here in Avondale.”

At that moment, a small motorboat with two men aboard headed toward the shore. I could see the words AVONDALE POLICE stenciled on the hull.

“You folks okay?” one of the men shouted. “We received a call that a canoe had capsized in the storm. And that trespassers were on this property.”

“We’re fine,” Bess called back. “Just cold, wet, and exhausted.”

The boat pulled up to a small dock, and the second officer climbed out. He was much younger than the first and had dark brown hair and eyes. More importantly, he was carrying an armload of thick, heavy blankets.

He walked across the beach and handed one to each of us.

“Thanks!” Bess said, a smile crossing her face. “I haven’t been so happy to see a blanket in a long time.”

He smiled back at her, blushing slightly and revealing two enormous dimples. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds for a second. Bess lowered her eyes and her cheeks reddened. It was all a little ridiculous, considering what had just happened to us.

George rolled her eyes.

The other officer started talking. “Ladies, I’m Sheriff Garrison. I’m relieved you are all okay, but you must have known how dangerous it was for you to be on the lake with a storm of this magnitude. And trespassing is a serious offense in Avondale. What were you doing here, anyway?”

“The storm came up suddenly and we headed for the nearest shore. Then we tried to get help from the owner of the cabin. We didn’t mean to trespass.”

“I understand, but the ‘No Trespassing’ signs are there for a reason. The owner of this cabin likes her privacy and is very wary of any strangers who could be stalking her,” said the sheriff.

Bess spoke. “We really didn’t mean anything by this, sir. We promise to steer clear for the rest of our visit. I apologize for all of us.”

The sheriff nodded. “I will let you off with a warning—this time. But if I hear another complaint about you three, I’ll bring you into the precinct. That’s a promise.”

He walked away and started talking on his phone, leaving us with the younger officer. We were speechless. How had this weekend taken such a disastrous turn?

He smiled. “I’m sorry my uncle was so rough on you guys,” he apologized. “But folks in Avondale really take their privacy seriously. I’m Ian Garrison, by the way. I’m interning over the next couple of months for the sheriff’s office. It looks like you could use help getting back to wherever you’re going. Right?”

I nodded. “We’re heading to our cabin on the southeast corner of the lake,” I explained. “I think we’ll be fine. But if you’re going in that direction, we wouldn’t mind the company.”

“We’re heading that way too. Just consider us your police escort.”

“Nancy,” I replied as I took his hand. “And that’s Bess and George.” I pointed to my friends.

“Nice to meet you all,” he said.

George and I portaged the canoe down to the shore, Bess carried the paddles, and we climbed in and pushed off. We got back, slowly but surely, the motorboat officers watching our every move.

By the time we got back to our cabin, the weather had cleared. And I couldn’t believe it, but it was close to dinnertime. What a day it had been.

“Can we get you anything to drink before you leave?” I asked Sheriff Garrison.

“No thanks,” he replied. “I have to get back. But remember, stay out of trouble while you’re here.” Then he smiled and said, “But barring an emergency, Ian here is done for the day.” He gestured to his nephew.

“That would be great, thanks,” Ian replied with a shy smile in Bess’s direction.

Sheriff Garrison took off, and Bess and I went into the kitchen to get the drinks.

As I sliced some lemons to add to a pitcher of iced tea, I said to Bess, “I was hoping you might be able to pump Ian for some info on the fire.” I smiled at her in what I hoped was a winning fashion. “You know, since he seems to really like you.”

“He does not,” Bess protested. “But I’ll ask a few questions if it helps.”

We headed back out onto the porch with the ice-filled pitcher, four glasses, and some snacks.

“This is great, thanks. So, where are you all from?” Ian said.

“River Heights,” George replied. “We’re just up here for the weekend.”

“What do you think so far?” Ian asked.

“The lake is beautiful if you can manage to stay in the canoe,” I joked. “And we got to check out Avondale earlier today as well. That bookstore fire looked really terrible.”

I glanced at Bess to see if she would take the lead.

She turned to Ian and asked, “Who would want to torch a bookstore? We heard some people say that Lacey isn’t too popular around here, even though she’s a famous mystery writer. And Paige seems to have an enemy or two as well.”

“Well, I’m not supposed to discuss ongoing investigations, but we really don’t know that much yet. I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt,” Ian said. “The fire chief and Uncle Bob—uh, I mean the sheriff—were in the bookstore all morning collecting evidence. They still have to evaluate everything officially, but just between us, that fire was definitely not an accident.

“They found traces of kerosene, though they also found some frayed wires on an old chandelier,” he continued. “It looked like someone cut through the wires to make it look like that’s what started the fire. Now they’ve launched a full investigation.”

So it was official: Someone had started the fire on purpose. But who was the target? Paige? Lacey? Or someone else? I was contemplating my next move when the ringing of Ian’s cell phone cut through my thoughts.

“Hey, Uncle Bob,” he answered. “Is everything okay?”

The sheriff. It was difficult not to eavesdrop, since Ian was sitting just a few feet away.

“Really?” he asked. “Of course . . . I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The call over, he looked at us, seemingly in shock.

“Thanks for the iced tea,” he said, nodding his head at Bess as he spoke. “But our small town has been hit again. Someone stole a valuable, one-of-a-kind statue.”

He shook his head. “I just don’t understand why this is happening.”