Stalk, Don't Run (7 page)

“Home?” Bess said.

“Maybe Alice can go home with me,” Maggie said eagerly. “Until her mom can take her back to California.”

“Whoa, whoa, Maggie,” Bess cut in. “Why didn’t you call Mom in the first place?”

“Because she never listens to me,” Maggie said sulkily. “She listens to you because you’re the older sister.”

“Fine,” Bess said. “But I know what Mom’s going to say. She’s going to tell you to stay in camp for the next two weeks and tough it out.”

“Even with Amy acting so weird?” Maggie asked.

“We can talk to Amy,” I said.

“What about the mean girls?” Maggie wailed.

“As long as they’re not targeting you, try to be where they’re not. There are a lot of different activities at camp, so keep busy. There’ll always be mean girls around,” George said with a frown. “No matter how old you get.”

Like Deirdre Shannon?

But Maggie wasn’t buying it.

“
Please
, Bess,” Maggie said. “Amy and the mean girls aren’t the
only
reason I hate camp, you know.”

“There’s something else?” Bess asked.

Maggie nodded, her eyes wide. “There’s this strange older guy who’s been sneaking around camp late at night,” she whispered. “He wears a jacket and a big hat that covers most of his face. A couple of nights ago I saw his face, and it was covered with black and red blotches. It looked like his nose was falling off!”

Was this a joke?

“Alice saw him too!” Maggie went on. “Every night when the lights are out you can hear him moaning . . . and screaming . . . and groaning—”

“Okay, Maggie, that’s it,” Bess said. “Save the scary stories for the campfire.”

“You don’t believe me?” Maggie asked. She looked desperately at me and George for support.

“Sorry, Mag,” George said. “It sounds like you’re making stuff up so you can go home.”

“You guys!” Maggie groaned.

“Look, Maggie,” I said, trying to cheer her up. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Amy asked us to speak to the campers about detective work and solving mysteries, so we’ll be here again.”

“At least
you
get to go home afterward,” Maggie said.

A counselor standing in the distance called Maggie’s name.

“I’ve got to go,” Maggie said with a frown. “I’ll see you tomorrow . . . if I live that long.”

“I thought the Casabians were the drama queens, but Maggie’s in training,” George quipped as Bess’s sister ran to her counselor.

“Maybe,” I said. “But, Bess, you really should speak to Amy to make sure all that stuff isn’t true.”

“All that stuff except the guy with the decrepit nose,” Bess said. “I’d be too embarrassed to bring that up.”

We walked through the camp, looking for Amy. It did seem as though the campers were somewhat unsupervised. Some were hanging out in front of their bunks. A few counselors were lounging around the pool, sunbathing and texting.

Finally we found her, walking out of the camp office. She bumped smack into us, totally distracted and unaware that we were even there. Almost immediately she flashed a bright smile and said, “Hello, girls. Aren’t you a day early?”

“We were visiting Maggie,” Bess said. “She told us that camp is kind of different lately.”

“Different?” Amy said, her eyes darting left and right. “Different how?”

Bess looked uncomfortable explaining, so I piped up.

“Maggie thinks you might be . . . preoccupied lately,” I said carefully.

Still smiling, Amy said, “Is that what Maggie told you?”

“Yes,” I said. “She also said—”

“You know, it’s normal for girls to get homesick and miss their families,” Amy cut in. “In Maggie’s case, it’s probably candy bars and ice cream she’s missing.”

Wow—that wasn’t nice!

George looked at Amy and said evenly, “You don’t seem to have a problem with the girls in Bunk Diana eating junk food. Or leaving camp to hang out on Main Street this morning.”

“Is that what Maggie told you?” Amy said, shaking her head. “She is quite relentless, isn’t she?”

“
We
saw Darcy, Lindsay, and Ava on Main Street today,” I answered. “Mandy Casabian was at Safer’s Cheese Shop, and they wanted to meet her.”

Amy turned red. But she continued, “The girls from Bunk Diana had special permission to go to town. They were with a counselor, in case you didn’t notice.”

“No,” I said. “We didn’t.”

She lowered her eyes, then looked up at the three of us. “I’m been rethinking tomorrow,” she said. “And you needn’t show up for your little talk.”

“What?” Bess said. “You scheduled us more than a week ago!”

“I know,” Amy said, smiling slyly. “But I’ve changed my mind. Mandy, Mallory, and Mia Casabian will speak to the campers.”

I stared at her, too stunned to say anything.

“Yes,” Amy went on. “Mia will talk about the importance of school. Mandy and Mallory will share their healthy grooming habits.”

“You call wearing tons of makeup healthy grooming?” George asked.

Before Amy could argue, I said, “We can come another day.”

And Bess added, “But Maggie’s counting on us to be there.”

“No, no, don’t bother. The more Maggie sees you, the more homesick she’ll get. Have a nice day,” Amy said, and huffed off.

We stood in front of the office, shocked.

“Maggie was right,” Bess said. “It’s as if Amy Paloma is an entirely different person.”

I hadn’t thought about the yellow sunburst tattoo on Amy’s ankle—until now.

“You guys,” I said slowly. “When we were here last week, I noticed something weird about Amy. She had a tattoo on her ankle.”

“Lots of people have tattoos,” George said.

“This was a yellow sunburst tattoo,” I told her. “Like the logo from Roland’s Renewal Retreat and Spa.”

“What are you saying?” Bess whispered. “You don’t think Amy had anything to do with Roland’s cult, do you?” She sat down on the office porch.

“We know nothing about her—other than this camp. She could have been his follower at one time,” I said. “Maybe that’s why she’s acting so strange. Maybe his brainwashing hasn’t worn off yet.”

“I don’t buy it, Nancy. I can’t imagine Amy belonging to Roland’s cult,” Bess said. “The tat’s probably a coincidence.”

“I guess,” I said—maybe I
was
overthinking it. A person didn’t have to belong to a cult to act weird. Just then my phone signaled a new text. It was from Ned. My heart felt heavy as I read the message out loud: “ ‘Nancy, we have to talk.’ ”

I still wasn’t happy about Ned kayaking with Mia, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, I never passed up dinner at Mamacita’s, my favorite Mexican restaurant.

“Honest, Nancy,” Ned said while I dipped another nacho chip in mango salsa. “I was just doing Deirdre a favor.”

“Kayaking with a famous TV star?” I said. “I’m sure she had to twist your arm for that.”

“Deirdre said it was research for the show they were pitching,” Ned said. “To see how the sisters got along with average guys. Like me.”

I raised an eyebrow as I crunched into my chip. I didn’t consider Ned average, and I’m sure Deirdre didn’t either.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going?” I asked.

“Deirdre didn’t ask me until this morning,” Ned said. “I knew you went to Safer’s early, so I figured I’d tell you about it later.”

“Did you have a good time?” I asked, twirling the straw in my soda.

Ned shrugged and said, “Well . . . It was kind of neat hanging out with a TV star. Mia seemed like she was pretty smart, and really nice, too—”

“Sorry I asked,” I cut in. I was about to reach for another chip when Ned grabbed my hand.

“I’m sorry you were hurt, Nancy,” he said. “I’m also sorry about the interview in the
Bugle
. Printing a last-minute article about the sisters was my dad’s idea to increase readership, not mine.”

“So?” I said. “Did the
Bugle
sell out?”

Ned cast his eyes downward as he said, “Kind of, but it’s no excuse for not giving you, Bess, and George a heads-up.”

I had to finally smile at Ned. He really did feel bad about the article and about Mia. I was about to accept his apology when Deirdre Shannon marched straight up to our table. “Nancy,” she said, grabbing one of the chips, “what did you do with Mia?”

“Deirdre!” Ned said. “We’re having dinner here.”

“What do you mean, what did I do with Mia? Is something wrong?” I asked.

“You bet something’s wrong,” she said. “Mandy, Mallory, and Mia were supposed to be interviewed on the six o’clock news tonight.”

“And?” Ned asked.

“Mia never showed up at the TV station or at her job this afternoon,” Deirdre said, pulling up a chair.

That didn’t sound like Mia. Of all three sisters, she was the most responsible.

“What do you think happened?” I asked.

Deirdre’s eyes burned at me. “You tell me, Nancy,” she said. “Because it looks like Mia is MIA.”

Missing? The last time Mia Casabian was missing, she had joined Roland’s Malachite Beach cult.

“Oh no,” I said. “Here we go again!”

“W
hat do you mean, here we go again?” Deirdre asked.

The last thing I wanted to do was rehash Mia’s cult nightmare, especially with Deirdre. I looked at Ned for help.

“Look, Deirdre,” he said. “Maybe it wasn’t Mia’s day to work at the café. She could have forgotten the interview.”

“That’s a lame excuse,” Deirdre huffed.

“I can’t imagine Mia forgetting an important appointment either, Ned,” I said.

“Well, did you text her?” Ned asked Deirdre. “Or call?”

“Of course I did, but she didn’t answer,” Deirdre said. “Mia’s not even answering her sisters’ messages.”

“That is weird,” I said.

“What did you say to scare her away?” she asked. “You were pretty angry when you caught Ned kayaking with her.”

“I was mad at Ned, not Mia. And I never even spoke to her about it,” I said firmly.

Deirdre pushed her chair away and got up from the table.

“I’m going to Casa Bonita,” she said coolly. “To make sure Mandy and Mallory are safe. Call me immediately if you hear anything about Mia.”

Ned and I watched Deirdre storm off. Once she was out of the restaurant, Ned turned to me.

“She’s unreal,” he said. “What does she think—someone’s out to get Mia?”

The thought was a crazy one—until I remembered the carbon monoxide! I started to tell Ned, but then I looked at across the table at his face. We had just made up. No way could I spoil a perfect date with talk about carbon monoxide poisoning.

As we started on dessert, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Deirdre had said. Had something sinister happened to Mia? Were Mandy and Mallory next?

“It is kind of weird that Mia never called or texted,” George said. “Out of all three, she’s the—”

“Responsible and sensible one.” I nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

It was Saturday and the morning after my almost-perfect dinner with Ned. Bess, George, and I were headed for the Three Bean Café to talk to Mia’s boss. Maybe she’d noticed something strange about Mia or some of her customers. If she had, I wanted to know.

“Maybe the carbon monoxide
wasn’t
a careless accident,” I said as we walked.

We turned the corner and there was Mr. Safer, busy watering the vividly colored impatiens in front of his shop. Water dripped from the watering can all over his white smock. He smiled and waved us over.

“Ignore him,” George whispered. “The guy fired you for no good reason.”

“I know, but we have to go into his store,” I said. “Maybe Mandy heard from Mia. Then we’ll go to Three Bean.”

Mr. Safer was humming “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” as we walked over to him.

“Hi, Mr. Safer,” I said.

“Hello, girls,” Mr. Safer boomed. He looked straight at me with a big grin. “So, Nancy, when can you start?”

“Start what?” I asked.

“Your old job in the cheese shop,” Mr. Safer said. “It’s yours if you want it.”

I was totally surprised. “What about Mandy?” I asked

“She never came to work this morning,” he said.

Another sister not showing up for work? Not good.

“Did you call her?” I asked.

Mr. Safer started watering another planter and said, “She didn’t answer my call. Just as well. I don’t want her to have anything to do with the cheese shop anymore.”

I imagined Mandy dropping more cheese wheels on people’s feet or holding her nose every time she had to handle a stinky cheese. But as Mr. Safer went on, I learned that those weren’t the reasons he didn’t want her working there anymore.

“Yesterday morning I asked Mandy, Mallory, and Mia if they would star in my production of
The Three Sisters
,” Mr. Safer said. “All three girls turned me down.”

“They’re probably too busy,” George said.

Mr. Safer’s face turned red. “You have no idea how much this play means to me. Having the sisters in it would have brought our theater the publicity it needs—and the advance ticket sales!”