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?”
Paige seemed surprised by the suggestion. “No, no,” she replied hastily. “The building is very old, you know. I’m sure it was just an old faulty wire, which is what the fire department thinks. Besides, Carol, why would someone want to deliberately set fire to my store? Alice Ann doesn’t dislike me that much, does she?” And then she laughed.
George and I looked at each other. Alice Ann? And Paige was laughing? This was too weird. Paige paid the cashier and quickly headed for the exit. As she pulled her car keys out of her pocket, a slip of paper fluttered to the ground. I leaned down and snatched it up. It read: 9-1-14.
“Excuse me!” I called after her. “You dropped this.”
She turned back, a startled expression on her face. Then she saw the slip of paper, snatched it from me, and fled without saying thanks.
“Whoa,” George said as she appeared at my side. “That was beyond strange.”
“Tell me about it,” I agreed. We headed back to the checkout line and joined Bess, who was busy loading our groceries onto the conveyer belt.
“What was that all about?” Bess asked.
“Nothing,” I said softly, not wanting to speak freely in front of the cashier. Bess gave me a puzzled look, but she just shrugged and began bagging the groceries.
As we headed out to the car, George and I quickly filled Bess in on what she had missed.
“Weird!” Bess exclaimed. “What do you think ‘9-1-14’ means?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “A date? It could be some sort of code, though.”
“I bet it is a date: September 1, 2014,” George stated matter-of-factly.
“Could be,” I mused.
We drove back to the cabin in silence, mulling it over. Then we unloaded our groceries and put everything in the fridge, put on our bathing suits, shorts, and tank tops, and headed outside. Bess unlocked the equipment shed near the cabin and retrieved the paddles, while George and I carried the canoe down to the tiny stretch of rocky sand just behind our cabin.
Bess pulled a bright-orange life vest over her head and handed one each to George and me.
“Ugh,” she sighed. “Why do they have to make these so ugly?”
“So they can be spotted in a storm,” I replied simply.
“Thanks, supersleuth,” Bess joked. “It was a rhetorical question, though.” She squinted at the sky. “Speaking of storms, it looks a little dark off in the distance, doesn’t it?” she asked. “Maybe we should wait until tomorrow to take the canoe out.”
She was right—the sky above the horizon was definitely gray. I pulled out my phone to check the weather.
“Well, there’s no rain predicted for this afternoon,” I assured her. “So I think we should be okay. And I’m really curious to check out Lacey O’Brien’s cabin.”
George just shrugged and followed us down to the shore. We climbed into the canoe and pushed off. As Bess and I paddled, George sat back and closed her eyes.
I looked at the expanse of sky and the deep-green fir trees that ringed the lake. It should have been relaxing, but it wasn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fire and the odd facts and timing surrounding it.