Once Upon a Thriller (Nancy Drew Diaries #4)(15)

Paige looked startled. “Really?” she asked. “You mean, like a copycat criminal?”

“Exactly,” I explained with a nod. “Do you think you could help me contact Lacey? I’d like to speak with her about her books, but I know she’s reclusive. I’d also really like to interview her husband about his art piece.”

Suddenly Paige’s face lit up.

“Did you happen to catch the names of the couple from your accident?” she asked.

I thought back to the police report the sheriff had filled out, wondering what this had to do with Lacey O’Brien.

“I think they were Richard and Cecilia Brown,” I told her. “Why?”

She leaned in and whispered, “Well, the couple that tried to run you down was none other than Lacey O’Brien and her husband!”





CHAPTER EIGHT





The Secret Door


I PULLED THE SLIP OF paper the woman had handed me earlier out of my pocket. It read:

555-0192

34 Crescent Lane

“Cecilia Brown is Lacey O’Brien?” I asked, incredulous.

Paige nodded. “Lacey O’Brien’s been her pen name since we were in high school,” she explained. “She always hated the name Cecilia Duncan. She was named for her grandmother, and Lacey thought it sounded old-fashioned. It didn’t help that most of the kids in school called her CeeCee, even though she despised the nickname. She almost always goes by Lacey these days, but it makes sense that she gave her real name to the sheriff.”

“But he acted like he didn’t even recognize her,” I said. I couldn’t believe that the sheriff hadn’t known that Cecilia Brown and Lacey O’Brien were one and the same person.

Paige shrugged. “He probably didn’t,” she said. “Most folks in Avondale have only heard of her as Lacey O’Brien, the local mystery writer, and don’t know her personally. Aside from her close friends and people who grew up with her, not many local residents would recognize her. I only know her real name is Cecilia because of our high school days. So it’s no surprise the sheriff didn’t know who she was. He’s only been in office a few years, anyway.”

I glanced back down at the slip of paper. What luck! As crazy as it sounded, almost getting hit by a car was turning out to be my best break of the day. I was all but guaranteed an interview, or at the very least, a meeting with the famous author later that afternoon.

For now, I had one more place to visit in town—the art gallery.

“Thank you again for your time,” I told Paige. “The story should be in both the online and paper edition of the River Heights Bugle tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” she replied. “I’m happy to help. And thank you for looking into the fire. If it was arson, I’m eager to find out who’s behind it.”

“Me too,” I assured her. “And I won’t stop investigating until I do.”

Paige offered to pay for our coffees on her way out, and I headed to the ladies’ room.

On my way there, I realized someone was in the booth right behind ours. Oddly, he or she—I really couldn’t tell—was hunched down in their seat and seemed to be hiding behind a large menu. But I was able to glimpse a shock of curly brown hair with a streak of gray.

“Alice Ann?” I asked tentatively.

She lowered the menu and seemed surprised to see me there. An empty coffee cup and a plate with the remains of a slice of pie sat on the table in front of her. Since I hadn’t seen her come in, I figured she had been there the whole time Paige and I had been talking, which meant she had likely heard our entire conversation. And considering she was my number one suspect—maybe my only suspect—I wasn’t thrilled that she was pretty much spying on us.

“Nancy!” she replied a bit too cheerfully as she jumped up and grabbed her check from the table. “I didn’t know you were here.”

She waved the bill in front of me as she headed for the cashier.

“In a hurry!” she cried. “I’ve got to get back to the inn!”

I walked out the door, shaking my head. In addition to being one of the town’s biggest gossips, it seemed Alice Ann was also an expert eavesdropper. Or was it more than that? I thought back to the wallet incident on Saturday. Was it possible that Alice Ann was really shadowing me? I was glad that my stay at the inn would keep her close to me.

I headed outside, and after quickly checking directions on my phone, I realized I could walk the few blocks to the art gallery. I glanced behind me a few times on the way just to be sure Alice Ann wasn’t tailing me. I was fairly confident I was on my own, but I felt jumpy all the same. I couldn’t shake my suspicions about that woman.

The Clancy Tate Gallery was cool and bright, though the scene that greeted me was anything but cheerful. A thin, tight-lipped man in a dark turtleneck and thick glasses with tousled hair was standing in front of a desk in the corner, having a heated argument with a woman in a blue suit standing opposite him.

“Mr. Tate, please, I ask you not to raise your voice!” she implored him. “I assure you that it won’t help the situation.”

The man sat down in his chair abruptly and slumped back, looking completely dejected.

“I’m ruined!” he wailed.