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!”
WITHOUT A TRACE
“What 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!”
Bess, George, and I had never seen him get so worked up about anything.
“Maybe you can get three other actresses,” Bess said. “I’m sure there are some really good—”
“Forget it!” Mr. Safer growled. “It was either the Casabian sisters or no one. I canceled the show.”
I was afraid to say another word. He took a deep breath to compose himself, then said, “So, Nancy, when can you come back to work?”
Was he kidding? I should have been excited about getting my job back, but now with Mandy a no-show and Mr. Safer acting so weird, the cheese shop was the last place I wanted to be.
“I’ll have to let you know,” I said, forcing a smile. “About when I can start, I mean.”
“Fair enough,” Mr. Safer said. He nodded good-bye, then slipped into the store.
As soon as he left, the three of us started talking as we walked toward the Three Bean Café.
“Do you believe this?” Bess said. “Now Mandy didn’t show up for work.”
“Did you see how bizarre Mr. Safer was acting?” I asked as we continued down Main Street. “He didn’t seem worried about Mandy, but he was furious that she and her sisters wouldn’t star in his play.”
“What are you getting at, Nancy?” George asked. “That Mr. Safer was mad enough to harm Mandy, Mallory, and Mia?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Mr. Safer?” Bess said. She shook her head. “Sorry, but I can’t picture him doing anything underhanded.”
She and George stopped in front of the café, but I had other plans.
“Let’s go to Casa Bonita instead,” I said. “Maybe Mallory knows something about her sisters that we don’t.”
Casa Bonita was within walking distance from Main Street. I was relieved to see Mallory when she answered the door.
“I’ve tried to reach Mandy and Mia,” she said nervously as she led us into the house. “They won’t answer their texts or calls. And want to know the weirdest part?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Their clothes are still in their rooms,” Mallory said. “If they left on their own, they would have packed their things.”
As we walked into the living room, I was dismayed to see Deirdre, pacing the floor.
“I guess you heard the news about Mandy,” she said, looking straight at me.
“We sure did,” I said. “And in case you think I had something to do with her disappearance, Deirdre, don’t even go there.”
“What are you doing here anyway, Deirdre?” George asked. “Why aren’t you and Mallory at the police station?”
“If Mandy and Mia are missing persons,” Bess said, “Chief McGinnis ought to know—”
“Over my dead body!” Deirdre snapped.
Her sudden reaction was a jolt.
“You don’t want to go to the police?” I asked.
“Why not?” George demanded.
“I don’t want any bad publicity about River Heights,” Deirdre said. “The networks would never film the sisters’ show here if they thought it was an undesirable location.”
“Uh, excuse me,” George said angrily. “But without Mandy and Mia, you have no show.”
“Mallory, think,”
I said. “Has anyone been acting strange around you and your sisters lately? Anyone here in River Heights?”
Mallory was sitting on the couch by this time, but nervously twirling her hair.
“So far everyone in River Heights has been really nice,” she said with a small smile.
“Could there be a fan who’s been acting a little weird?” I asked. “Like being pushy or following you and your sisters around?”
“Just those three Casabian wannabes,” Mallory said.
“Wannabes?” I repeated.
Mallory nodded and said, “These three girls, probably about twelve. They style their hair like us and wear Casabian Sisters T-shirts all the time.”
Sounded like Darcy, Lindsay, and Ava!
“I saw them too,” Deirdre put in, nodding. “They’re fans and royal pains.”
“Define royal pains,” I said.
“My sisters and I called them the junior stalkers,” said Mallory. “They would show up at our jobs and follow us home sometimes.”
“Did you ever talk to them?” Bess asked.
“At first we’d say hi, but then they wouldn’t leave us alone,” Mallory said. “One day when they were following us, Mia yelled at them to get a life.”
“How did the girls take it?” I asked.
“They were mad—but then again, so was Mia,” Mallory said.
George sighed. “Sounds like those brats from Camp Athena.”
“Wait a minute,” Deirdre said. “Did you say Camp Athena? That’s the camp the Casabians are supposed to speak at in about an hour.”
“Deirdre, call Amy and tell her it’s off,” Mallory said. “No way am I speaking without Mia and Mandy.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” Deirdre said.
“Deirdre!” I said. “Did you forget that Mandy and Mia may be missing?”
Deirdre gave me another one of her bored looks. “Amy doesn’t have to know that,” she said. “I’ll tell her Mandy and Mia had a photo shoot. The kids will still be happy to see Mallory.”
I could hear George groan under her breath. I’d always known Deirdre was as cold as ice. I had no idea her heart was too.
“Are you kidding? I’m not speaking at that camp without my sisters,” Mallory said. “I’m not going anywhere until I find them.”
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