Once Upon a Thriller (Nancy Drew Diaries #4)(5)

“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 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?”