The Magician's Secret (Nancy Drew Diaries #8)(17)

“Ewww!” Bess hopped from foot to foot, making gagging sounds. “I stepped in gum! Gross.”

“Gum?” Candy asked. “There’s no food allowed in this shop. That’s why I go to the coffee shop at ten, noon, and three for all my scheduled breaks. No food. No drinks. And certainly no gum.” She handed Bess a tissue. “Someone will be fired!”

“It’s a huge wad!” Bess said, peeling it off her shoe. “Blech.”

“It’s not just gum.” George took the tissue and peered inside. “I mean, it is, but I think it’s also part of the crime.” She paused, staring at the gum. “Maybe the thief planted it here on purpose. Though I don’t think this gum was used in the heist. I checked the doors and there was no sign of anything gummy in the locks.”

Candy looked crushed. “After all these years, someone slipped by me.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll call the police. They should check the locks again and reinterview my employees.”

“This is a highly professional job,” I told her. “The gum, the videotape, the gems—your employees probably aren’t suspects.”

As we left, Candy was on the phone arranging for a new security company to come install an upgraded system.

“Good sleuthing!” I congratulated my friends. “We are definitely getting somewhere!”

“Right,” Bess said with a sigh. “All we have left to do is to figure out is who did it, why, and where they put the jewels.”

“No problem,” I said with a laugh. “I’m hoping we’ll find out more at our next stop.”



It was a little after ten p.m. when I pulled into the Riverview parking lot. At night the place looked even more shabby and run-down than it had in the daylight. I hoped the twins were awake. We needed to talk to them.

“You’d think if the girls stole the gems they’d have at least kept some of the money for a hotel upgrade,” Bess said, wrinkling her nose.

“I don’t think the gems have been sold yet,” George said. “Whoever took them needs to get far away from here first.”

“But even if the twins do have the gems, they might be stuck in this motel anyway. Hugo told me that these performances are expensive to run.” I held the door for my friends. “I guess that’s why the staff stays at the cheap places while the magician goes to stay at the fancy resort.”

“Even if he was escaping from a crazy stalker-fan, the twins might resent their dad for leaving them here,” George said. “I know I would.”

“If they are angry, no one’s said anything.” I recalled all the conversations I’d had with Ayela and Ariana. They’d never even let on that Lonestar was their dad—certainly not that he’d moved on to better digs and stuck them with Hugo.

The hotel lobby was quiet. The only sign of life was a desk clerk at the counter. The young woman looked bored, like she wished she was anywhere else. Her long brown hair hung over one charcoaled eye.

When we approached the desk, she looked up and pinned that one eye on me. “Can I help you?”

Bess moved in and flashed a smile. “We’re looking for Drake Lonestar’s two assistants. Could you tell us what room they’re in?”

The woman picked up a pen and twirled it. “I’m not supposed to give out information on our guests.”

It might have been the first time in Bess’s life that her oozing charm didn’t work.

George gave her a small, sympathetic smile.

Undeterred, Bess tried again. “But we know Ayela and Ariana. We were supposed to meet them”—she stopped to check her watch—“twenty minutes ago.” Bess threw George a dirty look over her shoulder, as if it was George’s fault we had only arrived now.

“Please,” Bess said in the sweetest voice I’d ever heard.

“Oh, um . . .” The clerk paused and twirled her pen some more. “Whatever.” She scribbled the number on a slip of paper. “Go ahead. Let them fire me. I hate this job.”

As we walked away, Bess grinned at George and said, “The Marvin charm hasn’t failed me yet.”

George rolled her eyes.



After a quick elevator ride, we were standing in front of room 406. The TV was on inside. I knocked on the hotel room door.

Ayela opened it. “Hey!” She was super cheery as she let us inside. “Welcome!”

The room was tiny. Two beds and a roll-away sleeper were stuffed wall to wall. In fact, so much furniture had been crammed into the small space that there was nowhere to stand. I peeked into the tiny bathroom; the fact that an architect had managed to fit a shower, toilet, and sink in there might have been the most impressive magic trick of the past week.

Deep-red wallpaper, stained with age and peeling from decay, made the room so dark I had to squint to see Ariana sitting on the bed, next to her dad.

Drake Lonestar.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” he said.

I didn’t mean to be rude by not replying, but my tongue was tied. Above Drake’s head, above where the roll-away sleeper was squashed up against the wall, there were holes. Lots and lots of little holes.

“Darts!” I practically shouted the word, scanning the floor. “Aha!” I found one halfway behind the nightstand. I grabbed it and held it up like a trophy. This was a big clue.