Once Upon a Thriller (Nancy Drew Diaries #4)(2)

“Bad news,” I groaned. “I left the lunch basket Hannah packed for us at home.”

“That’s because you were rushing like crazy to get up here,” George said. “What’s my stomach supposed to do?” she joked.

Bess smiled broadly. “I guess we’ll just have to make a trip into town, then,” she suggested. “It’s not far away, and I’m pretty sure Avondale has a bunch of cafés and cute stores.”

She emphasized the word “stores,” and knowing Bess, she was eager to squeeze in some shopping along with lunch.

“Great,” I agreed. “Because I also left Terror on the Trail at home, so now I have nothing to read. Hopefully there’s a bookstore in town too.”

“Terror on the what?” George asked. “Do you ever stop trying to solve mysteries?” She tapped her tablet, which was perched on a nightstand. “You know, Nancy,” she continued, “you wouldn’t have this problem if you weren’t so resistant to e-books. You could take ten books with you at once.”

“As long as she remembered to actually bring the reader,” Bess pointed out.

“Ha, ha,” I said drily. “But you know what? When it comes to books, I like the feel of the pages in my hands, and even the smell of them.”

“That’s Nancy,” George teased. “Always with her nose in a book—literally. Now let’s go—I’m starving!”



Ten minutes later we pulled into the town of Avondale. And Bess was right—there were plenty of quaint stores and shops. But that’s not what caught my attention. Two fire trucks were stopped in the middle of the street, and an acrid smell filled the air.

We parked and quickly made our way toward the crowd that had formed.

“Was there a fire?” I asked a man with a golden retriever close by his side.

“Looks that way,” he replied, shaking his head and gesturing toward a nearby building. A sign in front of the shop was in the shape of an open book. “And at Paige’s Pages, of all places.”

Nearby, three young women had their heads together, whispering—but loud enough that we could hear them.

“And now we won’t get to meet Lacey O’Brien,” one of them said.

“I can’t believe it, Carly!” another replied. “And I’ve read all her mysteries.”

That word got my attention. I moved closer to the girls.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Do you know what happened? We’re just here for the weekend, but what’s going on here? I was trying to get to the bookstore, but it looks like that’s going to be, uh, difficult.”

“We were here for the bookstore too,” the first girl replied. “Lacey O’Brien was supposed to do a reading and a book signing—you know, the mystery writer?”

“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!”





CHAPTER TWO





The Missing Wallet


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.”