“Are you okay?” she asked a bit hysterically, her voice rising in pitch at the end of the question.
I nodded. I was a bit shaky, but I was otherwise fine. I hadn’t even torn or dirtied my shorts, despite the scrape on my thigh. Wait until Bess and George hear about my latest brush with death, I thought. They’ll never believe it happened in Avondale.
The woman turned to the man and poked him in the arm, hard.
“I told you to slow down, Rick,” she shrieked, almost in tears. “You almost ran this woman over. You could have killed her!”
“I know, I know,” he lamented, wringing his hands.
He turned to me. “Words cannot express how sorry I am, and how thankful I am that you’re okay,” he said genuinely.
“It’s all right,” I replied, giving them both what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, really. It was clearly an accident.”
“Do you need us to call an ambulance or the police?” he asked.
“No need for that,” a loud voice replied from behind me. “The police are already here.”
I turned to see Ian and Sheriff Garrison heading toward us.
Oh no, I thought. Not another encounter with the Avondale police! This was getting a bit absurd.
Sheriff Garrison interviewed the couple and me and took down a full report, while Ian tended to my leg using a first aid kit that looked like it was at least ten years old.
“Are you sure that adhesive is still sticky?” I joked as he placed some gauze over the scrape.
“Are you kidding?” he replied. “They don’t make this stuff like they used to. I’ll bet this will still be stuck to your leg a year from now.”
Once Ian was done patching me up and Sheriff Garrison had completed his report, I assured everyone for the tenth time that I was just fine. Then the woman reached into her purse with shaking hands and pulled out a small notebook. She wrote down a phone number and address, tore the sheet out, and handed it to me.
“We’re on our way to an appointment outside of town, but please call on us later today if you need anything at all,” the woman said.
I glanced at the slip of paper before putting it in my pocket.
“Sure, thanks,” I replied, though I doubted I would ever call. I had a full day planned, and though I was still a bit shaken, I was fine.
The couple climbed back into their car and drove away, and Ian and the sheriff turned to me.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Ian asked yet again.
“Of course!” I replied, smiling reassuringly. “You did a great job patching me up.”
“I’m going to stop by the cabin later this afternoon, if that’s okay,” Ian told me. “You know, just to make sure.”
I smiled. “Since Bess and George went back to River Heights, I checked into the Cheshire Cat Inn. It’s not necessary, but that’s where I’ll be if you want to stop by.”
I waved a quick farewell and hurried across the street to the diner. Paige was waiting for me at a windowed corner booth.
“Are you okay? I just saw that car almost take your life,” she said.
I smiled sheepishly. “Really, I’m fine. No worse for wear,” I said as I settled in across from her and began the interview.
“What can you tell me about the fire Saturday morning?” I asked as I opened my notebook. I would have taped our interview, but thought I would be less threatening just taking notes.
“Well, we had a book reading and signing scheduled for ten a.m. with Lacey O’Brien. We’re not particularly close, but we were in the same class in high school. Once a year, I’m able to convince her to come out for a special event. Well, her husband convinces her. I knew him back then too. They’re high school sweethearts, you know.”
She paused and looked off in the distance distractedly for a moment before she continued. “Of course, as you know, the event never happened. When I showed up at eight to open the store, the firefighters were already there. It looks like the blaze broke out in the early morning, and the firefighters think it was caused by old electrical wiring.”
I jotted everything down in my notebook.
“I thought the firefighters were investigating the possibility that the fire was caused by an arsonist,” I pointed out. “Isn’t that why there was police tape up around the store?”
Paige sighed heavily. “I was hoping you wouldn’t have to print that in your article,” she explained. “The bookstore hasn’t been doing too well lately, and I didn’t want the bad publicity. But you’re right—the sheriff and the fire chief are investigating the matter. I hope it wasn’t arson and that the fire was accidental.”
I nodded as I made a few more notes, thinking back to what Ian had said about the sheriff and the fire chief finding the kerosene and frayed wire in the bookstore. Clearly Paige was in denial about the cause of the fire. “Ms. Samuels, if it was arson, do you have any idea who would want to torch your shop?”
“Please, call me Paige,” she said. “Oh, my. Absolutely not. As I said before, this is a very small town, and everyone here gets along.”
Hmm, I thought. Not exactly. I thought of Alice Ann, and how she didn’t seem to care much for either Lacey O’Brien or Paige. I still found it hard to believe that Alice Ann was behind the fire or the theft, but stranger things had happened. But I still couldn’t figure out what her motive would have been. And was it Alice Ann who’d been on the porch of our cabin? If it was, she sure knew how to cover up her feelings, as she couldn’t have been nicer to me when I got a room at the inn.
I caught Paige glancing at her watch, so I quickly moved on to the next topic.
“Did you call to tell her about the fire?”
Paige nodded. “After I’d spoken with the firefighters, I did call her to let her know what happened. We briefly discussed rescheduling the appearance for later in the year, after the store reopens.”
“And her husband, Rick Brown. Do you know him well?” I asked.
Paige shrugged. “Not really. Like I said, we went to high school together, but that was ages ago.”
“You do know that one of his sculptures was taken?” I said.
“I just heard about it on my way here,” Paige answered. She shifted in her seat and glanced at her watch again.
“For the life of me, I don’t have a clue as to who would be targeting Avondale’s fine arts,” she said. “Books and paintings and sculpture are important tourist attractions for us and add so much to our community. I do hope the police get to the bottom of this and fast.”
She paused, then said apologetically, “I should probably be getting back. I have so much cleanup work to do.”
“Of course,” I answered. “Just one last thing. Some people have theorized that the arsonist and the art gallery thief may be perpetrating crimes based on some of the plotlines in Lacey O’Brien’s books.”
Paige looked startled. “Really?” she asked. “You mean, like a copycat criminal?”
“Exactly,” I explained with a nod. “Do you think you could help me contact Lacey? I’d like to speak with her about her books, but I know she’s reclusive. I’d also really like to interview her husband about his art piece.”
Suddenly Paige’s face lit up.
“Did you happen to catch the names of the couple from your accident?” she asked.
I thought back to the police report the sheriff had filled out, wondering what this had to do with Lacey O’Brien.