04 Once Upon a Thriller (2 page)

“I've heard of her, sure,” I replied.

“She's like a local celebrity around here,” the second girl, who had dark, curly hair, said. “Well, except that people hardly ever see her. I heard this book signing was the only one she was doing all year.”

“And now we're out of luck, aren't we, Mandy?” the third girl added. “No signing today.”

The girls continued chattering, and I took a few steps back. But I could still hear them clearly. In fact, everyone around us could. A firefighter near us was talking with a distraught-looking woman with graying hair who was pointing to the store.

“Did you realize there was a fire in her latest book,
Burned
?” Mandy whisper-shouted to her friends.

“You're right!” Carly answered. “That's a weird coincidence. You don't think Lacey had anything to do with this fire, do you?”

“Well, at least something finally happened here. Nothing exciting or mysterious ever happens in Avondale,” Mandy said.

I wouldn't be so sure,
I thought. That's what everyone thinks until something actually happens.

At that moment, one of the other firefighters approached us.

“Everyone, please step back,” he announced. “We need to get our equipment out of the store.”

“Sure, no problem,” George said. We all moved back, but Mandy had ideas of her own and went right up to the fireman.

“What happened?” she demanded. “We really, really wanted to see Lacey O'Brien today. And now we might have to wait another year until we do.”

I could have sworn the fireman rolled his eyes. But he patiently answered her question. “From our initial investigation, it looks like some faulty wiring in an old chandelier,” he replied. “That happens a lot in older buildings like this one.”

Mandy gasped. “It does?” she asked, an amazed look on her face. “Because that's exactly how the fire started in Lacey O'Brien's last book! Except the wiring in the chandelier hadn't really caused the fire. It was arson!”

I TURNED TO GEORGE AND
Bess to see if they had been listening. One glance at their faces told me they had heard everything. In fact, there was an almost collective gasp from the crowd around us.

“Hmm,” the firefighter replied. “That's very interesting. But until we do a more complete investigation, we can't make that assumption, miss.”

Mandy turned back to her friends. “Well, I can, and I will,” she whispered to them.

The crowd broke up and Bess, George, and I walked slowly down the main street.

George cleared her throat. “Nancy, if this is arson, then it's really none of our business, right?” she began. “We can just go about our weekend plans, can't we?”

“Without you looking under every rock,” Bess chimed in.

My mouth dropped open, but I wasn't really surprised. My friends knew me better than anyone, except maybe for Ned. And they knew it would be close to impossible for me to resist a suspicious fire and a well-known writer who happened to specialize in mysteries.

“I guess I'm an open book,” I agreed with a soft laugh. “No pun intended.”

“Well, before we start,” George said as we walked, “can we grab some lunch first? I won't be much help unless I eat.”

“Why don't you and Bess find someplace, while I ask a few more questions? Just text me where you go, and I'll meet you there in about ten minutes. Okay?” I said.

“Perfect,” George agreed as she and Bess headed down the street.

I turned back toward the spot where the firefighter had been talking with Lacey O'Brien's fans. Most everyone who had gathered was gone, except for the firefighter who Mandy had questioned. He was busy talking on his phone and I waited a moment until he seemed like he was wrapping up his conversation.

“Excuse me,” I asked. “But do you know when the bookstore might reopen? And when Lacey O'Brien will be signing her books?”

“I think you're out of luck,” he replied. “The store won't be reopening for a few weeks at least. It wasn't a bad fire, but there's a lot of smoke and water damage. The owner, Paige Samuels, has quite a mess on her hands.”

“Do you think those girls were right?” I asked innocently. Then I thought fast. “My brother's a volunteer firefighter and has never dealt with arson before.”

“I really don't know and can't say just yet,” he replied. “It looked like bad wiring to begin with, but it could have been anything. As I said, we'll be doing a full investigation, but it's too soon to tell right now.”

He excused himself and headed over to the other firefighters. I nodded and backed away. Then I pulled out my phone to see if George or Bess had texted me. I had one new message from George:
MEET US AT THE AVONDALE DINER, CORNER OF PARKSIDE AND MAIN
.

I headed up the street, passing an eyeglasses store and a bakery. Baskets of purple and pink impatiens hung from the streetlamps, and I had the feeling that Mandy was probably right that nothing exciting ever did happen in Avondale. It was quiet and quaint with a small-town feel. So why now—why a fire? And who? And did the fire really have anything to do with Lacey O'Brien's book? Or maybe even Lacey O'Brien herself?

At that moment I passed the Cheshire Cat Inn. In front a woman was sweeping the sidewalk, mumbling to herself. She had curly, dark-brown hair with a distinctive streak of gray in it. As I got closer, I realized she was talking to someone—an older man in an apron who stood half-hidden in the doorway to the bakery.

“She had it coming to her, if you ask me, Arnold,” I heard her say.

“Now, now, Alice,” the man scolded gently. “I know you and Paige have never been the best of friends, but no one deserves to have her shop practically burned to the ground.”

I couldn't believe my luck. They were talking about the bookstore and the owner. I had to find out more.

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” I said. “But I think I'm a bit lost. Is this the way to the Avondale Diner? Parkside and Main?”

“You're going in the right direction,” the man—Arnold—replied. “This is Main Street here. Just keep walking two more short blocks and you'll come to Parkside. The diner's on the other side of the street. Best peach pie around, by the way,” he added, and smiled.

“Thank you,” I said, and started walking, but then turned back.

“One more thing. I was hoping to get a copy of Lacey O'Brien's latest mystery at the bookstore, but her signing was canceled.” I gestured toward the few people still lingering in front of Paige's Pages. “Do either of you know of another place in town that sells books?”

The woman stopped sweeping. “I sell all of Ce—I mean, Lacey's—novels in my gift shop,” she replied, somewhat too cheerily. She stepped into the lobby of the inn and motioned for me to follow her.

“Thanks, that's perfect,” I said. I followed her into the lobby, which was dim, dark, and covered in ornate, flowery wallpaper. An enormous antique grandfather clock stood against one wall. Just beyond it was a small arched entryway that led to a tiny nook of a room. In addition to a wide variety of antiques, it was packed with Cheshire cat–themed gifts, from salt and pepper shakers to clocks to tea towels and Alice in Wonderland books and toys.

“This is a lovely place,” I said as I studied an antique Tiffany lamp in the entryway to the gift shop. “It's so charming.”

“Thank you,” she answered. She seemed surprised at the compliment. “It's nice to see a young person like yourself appreciates dusty old antiques the same way I do. Most girls your age are more interested in cell phones and technical gadgets.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I'm Alice Ann Marple, by the way. Lacey O'Brien's from around here, you know. Tourists know she's a local writer, so guests are always asking for her books.”

“Nice to meet you. I'm Nancy Drew,” I said. “I'm a writer myself,” I fibbed. “And a big mystery fan.” I gestured to the rack of Lacey O'Brien's novels, which was tucked between a display of antique picture frames and a shelf of cat figurines. There were at least ten different titles to choose from.

“I'm sure you know, but this one's her latest,” Alice Ann began, picking up a copy of
Burned
. The front cover showed an old house lit up in bright flames. “But this one's my favorite.”

She handed me a copy of a book called
Framed
, which had an image of a shadowy figure in an oversize picture frame on the cover.

“You know, all of her books are set in a town that's similar to Avondale,” Alice Ann continued. “Some people even think they're based on real crimes, but I think that's just ridiculous. I went to high school with her, and she had quite an active imagination.”

What was Alice Ann saying? Did she know something about the fire today? “Are you still close friends?” I asked.

“Friends? Close?” Alice Ann scoffed. “We were never really close. I wouldn't even say we were friends. We were foe—” Alice stopped. And then she went on but in a more measured tone. “Lacey was—well, she kept to herself. Still does, as a matter of fact.”

I nodded. “Well, it would have been nice to see Lacey today, especially since I hear she rarely makes public appearances to promote her books. And how awful about the fire. I really feel bad for the owner.” I hoped Alice would continue talking about Paige.

But she just gave me a tight-lipped nod. It seemed like she had remembered that I was a stranger in town and not an old acquaintance to gossip with. I guessed I wasn't going to find out why Alice felt Paige had something coming to her.

“Yes, it's quite a tragedy,” she replied. For a moment I thought I heard sarcasm in her voice, but I couldn't be sure because she moved on.

“Have you decided on a book?” she asked, gesturing to the two paperbacks I was holding.

“I'll take them both,” I replied. “Thanks again for the help.”

“Of course,” she said. “I'll ring them up for you.” It was clear our chat was over.

A few minutes later I was sitting in a booth at the diner with George and Bess, who were finishing dessert.

“We almost started to worry about you,” Bess said. “But we went ahead and ordered you an avocado-and-cheddar wrap with hummus. Hope that's okay.”

“Well, it's not Hannah's fried chicken, but it still sounds pretty good,” I replied. “I'm starving.”

“So, what did you find out?” George asked.

“Only that Lacey O'Brien grew up here and keeps to herself, and that Alice Ann Marple, owner of the Cheshire Cat Inn, is no fan of Paige Samuels or Lacey O'Brien. I overheard Alice saying that Paige had it coming to her, and then she started to say that she and Lacey were more enemies than friends.” I knew it would be way too easy if Alice Ann was the one to set the fire, but what did she mean by her remarks?

I took a sip of water from the glass in front of me.

“And I bought two Lacey O'Brien books,” I said. I pulled out my copies of
Burned
and
Framed
.

“Nice work,” George said. “Why don't you give me
Burned
and you take
Framed
, and we'll see if there's anything to what those girls said about the bookstore fire.”

“Well, it's a first step at least,” I said. “But I think we're just getting started. You don't think
she
could have been behind the fire, do you?”

Bess started to answer, but the waitress arrived with my wrap, and as she placed it on the table, she noticed my books.

“I loved
Burned
. I think it was her best yet,” she commented.

“I just started it, but so far it's terrific,” I agreed.

“Lacey O'Brien lives in town, right?” Bess asked innocently. “Does she ever eat here?”

“Never has on any of my shifts,” the waitress replied. “She doesn't live in town, though—she has a cabin on Moon Lake. And she's one of those reclusive writer types. She does one signing a year at Paige's Pages, but that's it. No one around here sees her for the rest of the year.”