Read Online 04 Once Upon a Thriller by Carolyn Keene - Free Book Online

shrewd.
    â€œDo you mind if I take note of these names and addresses?” I asked.
    â€œNo, not at all,” Mr. Tate replied. “Like I said, if your story helps get that statue back, I’ll be in your debt forever. And you know what they say about publicity—it’s never a bad thing, at least in the art world. Do you want me to make a copy of that page for you?”
    â€œNope, I’ve got it,” I replied. I used my cell phone to take a photo of the register before I handed the book back to him. I started to put my notebook away, when Mr. Tate cleared his throat.
    â€œThere’s one thing I forgot to mention, and it involves Lacey O’Brien. But I can only tell you off the record. It would be a security risk for me if you printed it in the paper.”
    I was immediately intrigued.
    â€œOf course,” I assured him. “From now on, everything you say is one hundred percent off the record.”
    â€œThere’s one other way to get into the gallery. Only a few people know about it. I mentioned it to the police, and they’ve concluded that’s probably how the thief came in and exited.”
    â€œGo on,” I prodded. I sure wished Bess and George were here. I could have used some extra eyes and ears.
    â€œThe gallery actually shares space with a mystery writers’ retreat and workshop,” he explained. “As a wealthy local artist, Richard Brown has always been a huge investor in and supporter of the gallery. A few years ago Lacey had the idea to fund a dedicated writing space for fledgling mystery writers. She and Richard didn’t want their names attached to it, since she so closely guards her privacy. But Lacey still believes beginning writers should get a break, especially mystery writers.”
    Gee, I thought. That didn’t sound like someone who thought she was better than everyone in town.
    Mr. Tate went on. “Anyway, Richard proposed closing off the back half of the gallery that faces Oakwood Lane and turning it into the writers’ space. There would be a separate entrance, and Lacey would rent the space from me. She and I are the only two people with a key to the door between the gallery and the writers’ space.”
    My mind raced as I quickly processed the new information.
    A place just for writers? Mystery writers? Even though Lacey didn’t want anyone to know the space was her brainstorm or that she was paying for it, I wonder if she ever dropped in as her “former self,” Cecilia Duncan. Most people probably wouldn’t guess that their writing mentor or coach was the bestselling Lacey O’Brien. It was as if she was hiding in plain sight.
    Whoa—besides Mr. Tate, Lacey was the only person with access to the gallery through the secret entrance. But why would she have stolen her own husband’s sculpture? Was it some sort of strange publicity stunt? As Mr. Tate had said, no publicity is bad publicity in the art world—or the world of publishing.
    â€œWho owns The Bride of Avondale ?” I suddenly asked Mr. Tate.
    â€œLacey does. I put it on exhibit to coincide with her book signing.”
    â€œWait a minute, the sculpture that was stolen was one of Lacey O’Brien’s, and she’s the only one—other than you—who has access to the gallery through a secret entrance?” I asked.
    At that moment a crash sounded from a back room. Could Lacey be in the writers’ room now?
    A voice called out, “Sorry, Uncle C. I was standing on a stool in the supply room and lost my balance.” Into the gallery walked a girl with a familiar-looking face.
    â€œMandy!” I said. “What are you doing here?” It was the girl who was with her friends the other day, standing outside Paige’s Pages after the fire.
    Mr. Tate asked, “Do you two know each other? How can that be?”
    Mandy looked at me quizzically at first and then had a “lightbulb” moment