Once Upon a Thriller (Nancy Drew Diaries #4)(20)

“Nancy!” a voice cried out behind me, and I turned to see Alice. Shockingly, she grabbed me and gave me a friendly hug.

“Oh!” I exclaimed. “Hi, Alice. Good morning.”

She laughed. “I hope you had a restful night. I was looking for you this morning, but you were out bright and early. But now I can thank you in person.”

“Thank me?” I asked, genuinely perplexed. “For what?”

“Ever since your article was published in the River Heights Bugle this morning, my phone has been ringing off the hook,” Alice replied, a huge grin on her face. “We’ve had a tough summer at the inn, and it’s been hard to book rooms. But it seems that people all over the county are curious about Avondale and Moon Lake since your story came out. We’re completely booked for the next three weekends, and I imagine we’ll be full for the rest of the summer by the end of the day. It seems people want to make a weekend trip to Avondale so they can retrace the steps of the copycat criminal. And relax by the lake, of course.”

“That’s a little disturbing,” Ned replied, a troubled look on his face.

“Well, yes, I suppose it is,” Alice admitted, and her brow wrinkled for a moment in dismay. Then she shrugged. “But it’s been great for business.”

At that moment the phone rang again, and Alice dashed back to the reception desk to answer it. Ned and I continued to browse the shop while she finished the call. About fifteen minutes later she returned.

“Sorry about that,” she explained a bit breathlessly. “Now, what can I do for you two?” She studied Ned carefully and raised her eyebrows questioningly at me.

“This is Ned Nickerson,” I replied. “Ned, this is Alice Ann Marple.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Alice said as she shook his hand.

“You too,” Ned replied. “Nancy told me about your little shop, and I know how much she loves antiques.”

“Actually, I was really looking for an old-fashioned typewriter,” I jumped in. “Would you happen to have any of those?”

I watched her closely to see her reaction, but Alice Ann barely blinked.

“No, I’m afraid not,” she replied. “But I do have some vintage typewriter ribbon tins. They’re very collectible.” She pointed to a shelf of colorful lidded tins.

I shook my head. “But who buys the ribbons without the typewriter?” I asked. “I was really hoping for a typewriter. I couldn’t recall whether you had one in here or not.”

I smiled, and Alice did as well. She didn’t seem rattled at all when I mentioned looking for a typewriter.

“You might try Memory Lane on Oakwood,” she suggested. “Stephen Grey is the owner, and he might have something like that in stock. Just tell him I sent you.”

“Okay, thanks,” I replied. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Alice Ann gushed. “I really am so grateful for your article. Not that I’m pleased about the crimes that have taken place, of course,” she added, her face growing serious. “I hope you don’t think I’m an opportunist like all these tourists who have been calling this morning.”

“No, no, not at all,” I murmured.

“I mean, I’m not at all happy about the reason I’m seeing so much new business. It’s just that the inn has been struggling so much recently I’ve thought about throwing in the towel and retiring early. But this new business should be enough to keep us afloat at least through the end of the year, which is when we usually see a bump thanks to the ski resort in nearby Sugarville.”

“I understand,” I told her. “Don’t worry, we don’t judge you.”

“Well, thank you,” she replied, her cheeks reddening a bit. “I’m a little embarrassed to be profiting from the crimes, but what can you do? It is what it is.”

Ned and I nodded in agreement. Truthfully, I did agree with her. If she hadn’t committed the crimes, then it wasn’t her fault that was the reason tourists were flocking to the Cheshire Cat.

“Well, thanks for your time,” I told Alice as we headed for the door. “Oh, one more thing. Any idea where I can find Paige Samuels? I wanted to ask her when she thought the bookstore would be reopening and if she was going to reschedule the Lacey O’Brien signing.”

“Really?” Alice Ann replied, looking more than a little curious. “Well, she often has lunch at the diner, so you might try to find her there. Or you can swing by her place. She lives in an apartment on Oakwood Lane, right above the antique shop, in fact.”

Alice prattled on. “I don’t know where she’s been keeping herself. I know the fire put her store out of commission for a time, and she’s probably mad as blazes at Lacey . . . for so many reasons dating back to high school that I couldn’t even begin to tell you about, but, no, I haven’t seen her.”

“Thanks, Alice Ann,” I said. I was grateful when the phone rang and Alice Ann stopped gossiping.

Ned and I headed out into the warm morning.

“Well, she sure is something,” Ned said softly as we left the inn. “Doesn’t want to profit off the crimes, huh?”

“How can’t it be Alice Ann?” I whispered to him. “We’ve got a motive now—her business was suffering and now it’s booming. She doesn’t particularly like Lacey or Paige, either.” I paused. “But we still need actual proof. We’ve got to find that typewriter.”