“Ned, you stay here and mingle,” I told him. “I’m going to talk to Mr. Tate alone.”
But I couldn’t get close to him with the all the people who were listening to his story of the statue’s theft.
I walked to the rear of the gallery, to the locked door to the writers’ space. I wanted to will it open and wished there was a magical phrase like “open sesame” that would somehow make it so.
But something magical did happen: The door opened and out walked Mandy.
“Mandy! What are you doing here?” I started to shriek, but quickly lowered my voice. “I mean, what are you doing in there?” and motioned my head toward the door.
“Hi, Nancy.” Mandy smiled. “I had to escape this crowd. Really, how boring can it get? People just telling Uncle C how wonderful they think this boring gallery is, over and over again,” she said. “I couldn’t stand it.”
“But I thought only your uncle and one other person had the key to this door. Was it left unlocked?” I asked.
“Unlocked? No,” Mandy answered. “The writers’ room isn’t a secret to me. I know where the key’s hidden, so I take it anytime I want. Like I said the other day, my uncle is pretty clueless. Nice, but clueless.” She laughed a little bit.
And then she said, “I hang out here a lot. Sometimes with my friends, sometimes with the writers. Ms. Samuels is even there right now.”
“Paige? Paige is in the room?” I said.
Mandy nodded and then took off. So I slowly, quietly opened the door and couldn’t believe my eyes: Paige was there, just as Mandy had said. And in her hands was The Bride of Avondale!
“Sheriff Garrison,” I screamed. “HELP!!!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Facing the Facts
PAIGE TURNED AROUND AND GASPED.
There stood not only me, but Sheriff Garrison, Ian, Ned, Lacey, Rick, Mr. Tate—and what seemed like the entire population of Avondale.
“Ms. Samuels, just what do you think you’re doing?” asked the sheriff.
“I’m—I’m—,” she sputtered.
“Caught red-handed, I’d say,” Lacey said, and walked into the room.
I thought Paige was going to pass out, but instead she placed the statue on a shelf—right next to an old typewriter—and then she sat down at one of the writer’s desks.
“I’m sorry,” she began. “I didn’t mean for—”
Sheriff Garrison interrupted her. “Stop right there, Ms. Samuels. You have the right to remain silent.”
And then he and Ian walked calmly over to the owner of Paige’s Pages and escorted her to their police car.
One week later Bess, George, and I were sitting in my kitchen, having apple pie and chocolate butterscotch cookies—just the treats we were craving.
George took a sip of lemonade and said, “So Sheriff Garrison was ready to arrest Lacey O’Brien for the crimes? The ‘intruder’ at our cabin turned out to be a bear—that’s what he said, right? See, Bess. I told you he and Ian needed help. It’s a good thing Nancy was there.”
Bess rolled her eyes but smiled at her cousin. “And Paige was so jealous of Lacey’s success and her marriage to Rick. But still, to go to those lengths?”
I sighed. After Paige’s arrest, Alice Ann had actually visited her in jail. I don’t know if she went just to find out more gossip or to finally be a friend, but Alice found out that Paige had always felt she was competing with Lacey, as far back as high school. But she never came out ahead—even though she had attended the prom with Rick. That’s the photograph I saw in the old yearbook.
When the bookstore started doing poorly, Paige planned to close it. But then she devised a plan to make money from the insurance company—an idea taken straight from Lacey’s mysteries. The fire was meant to look like an accident. But once she realized that the fire and police departments suspected foul play, she started to cover it up.
I took my plate to the sink and let the water run over the leftover crumbs.
“I think there was a part of her that wanted to get caught,” Bess added. “Why else would she join the writers’ space and hide the statue in her own locker? She was bound to be found out, especially after getting the writer’s room key from Mandy.”
Bess had a good point. I wondered whether, when I’d picked up the paper with her locker combination on it at the grocery store, Paige had been deliberately dropping clues.
“Well,” I told my friends, “I’m glad no one got hurt. Broken hearts, maybe, but nothing else. And now I’ve got one more mystery for you to solve.”
George groaned. “Please, Nancy. Say you’re joking. How much more can we take?”
I started to laugh. “Where do you think I put the latest Lacey O’Brien mystery? I can’t find the book anywhere!”
Dear Diary,
A few months later, Ned and I took a day trip to Avondale. We had read that Lacey and Rick Brown bought the bookstore—now called Brown’s Books—and completely renovated it, expanding the mystery and children’s sections.
And inspired by the town’s new notoriety, Alice Ann began hosting Murder Mystery weekends at the Cheshire Cat Inn to continue to draw new tourists. I hear they’re a smashing success. But as far as I’m concerned, I think I’ve had my fill of mysteries at Moon Lake.
Read all the mysteries in the
NANCY DREW DIARIES
#1 Curse of the Arctic Star
#2 Strangers on a Train
#3 Mystery of the Midnight Rider
#4 Once Upon a Thriller
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Aladdin paperback edition September 2013
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Library of Congress Control Number 2013944613
ISBN 978-1-4169-9074-1 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-4424-6612-8 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4424-6572-5 (eBook)