The Ghost of Grey Fox Inn Read online

  Morgan got behind me and nudged me forward into the passage. My mind was racing, desperately considering every avenue of escape, eliminating them as I went along. The closer I got to that car, the fewer options I had. Whatever I was going to do, I needed to do it before Morgan got me into that trunk.

  I walked slowly, pausing after every step, but Morgan kept pushing me forward, not allowing me to stall enough to think. The dark passageway was silent—most of the guests must already be downstairs in the main room, blithely drinking their iced teas and chatting while a kidnapping was occurring right above their heads!

  How many peepholes had we passed so far? Three? Four? I remembered that the bridal suite had been three panels away from my room, and Piper’s room was right across from mine. If we were looping around, we should be passing the bridal suite at any moment now. If luck was on my side, George and Bess might still be with Charlotte in her room. If only I could let them know I was here . . . give them a sign! But with my hands tied, my mouth gagged, and Morgan watching my every move, that was going to be difficult.

  Suddenly a lightbulb went off in my head.

  I couldn’t scream, but Morgan still could.

  As soon as we were passing the panel that I thought might lead into the bridal suite, I pretended to sway on my feet and groan, as if I were feeling faint.

  “Hey,” whispered Morgan. “What’s wrong with you? Keep walking!”

  But I only groaned again in response, and, steeling myself for the pain that was surely going to follow, let my body go completely limp and toppled to the ground.

  I landed on my back, pinching my arms under me in a way that made tears leap into my eyes. But I bit back against the pain and stayed completely still, as if I were unconscious.

  Morgan froze at the sound of my body falling, and for a few moments he waited, listening for any sounds from the rooms around us. But when nothing happened, he relaxed again.

  As for me, I started to worry. If there were people in the bridal suite, shouldn’t we be hearing their voices by now? Would my plan all be for nothing? There was only one way to find out . . .

  Muttering quietly under his breath, Morgan began to reach down for me, ready to hoist me up onto his shoulders. But at the last moment, when he was most vulnerable, I reared up and kicked him, as hard as I possibly could, right between the legs.

  And just as I’d hoped he would, Morgan howled.

  It was probably only seconds, but it felt like an eternity later, when the wall opened and the dark passageway was flooded with blinding light. And in the middle of the light, I saw the silhouette of a man standing there—Parker.

  “What the—” he stammered, trying to comprehend the scene before him. Morgan was doubled over in pain, and I was lying on the floor next to him, bound and squinting into the light.

  “Nancy! He’s got Nancy!” George was saying. She was standing next to Parker, one hand on the wall—she must have been the one to open the panel when they heard Morgan scream.

  Parker’s expression instantly changed from confusion to fury, and he grabbed Morgan by the collar and yanked him out of the passageway and into the bridal suite. Bess, who had been standing with Charlotte in the open door to the bridal suite, came running over to me and pulled the gag from my mouth. “Are you okay, Nance? What happened?”

  Still wincing from the pain of my fall, I got out the only words that really mattered. “Check . . . his . . . pocket!”

  Parker dug his hand into Morgan’s jacket pocket and pulled out the little square box. Inside, the two wedding rings sat unharmed in their plush satin cushion, sparkling in the sun. Charlotte gasped. George grinned. Parker clicked the box shut with one hand and turned his attention back to Morgan, whose face was white with agony. “I can explain . . . ,” he sputtered uselessly.

  “Consider yourself uninvited,” Parker said, and socked Morgan right in the jaw. The con man dropped like a stone. Parker rubbed his knuckles and turned to Charlotte. “Darling, if you wouldn’t mind, call the police. And tell them to make it quick—we don’t want to be late to our own wedding.”

  Charlotte smiled, her face sparkling even brighter than the diamonds in that little box, and pulled a smartphone from her purse on the vanity. And at that moment, with that smile, I knew it was finally over.

  An hour later, after the police had quietly escorted Morgan out of the inn, Bess, George, and I were sitting together in the bridal suite, watching Charlotte adjust her wedding veil in the vanity mirror.

  “I can’t believe this is finally happening,” Charlotte said to her reflection. “It feels too good to be true.”

  Bess smiled. “Parker sure knows how to handle a crowd. He did an amazing job distracting the guests downstairs while the police took Morgan away. I don’t think a single person realized anything was amiss!”

  “That was pretty amazing,” Charlotte agreed, “but none of this would have been possible if it weren’t for you, Nancy.” She turned to me. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you did.”

  I blushed. “I’m just glad you all went into the bridal suite when you did. You guys saved me.”

  George elbowed me playfully. “Oh, don’t start changing the subject now, Miss Humility. It’s all in a day’s work for our resident supersleuth. Do you want another ice pack, Nance?”

  I was about to decline, but instead I handed the melted bag of ice back to George and nodded. “That would be great, thanks.” My wrists were still smarting from that fall. Just as George was crossing the room to the mini-fridge for more ice, there was a knock on the door. Bess got up to answer it. Standing in the doorway, looking haggard and ashamed, was Piper.

  I had already filled Charlotte and the other girls in on what had transpired in Piper’s room—how she’d met Morgan in the airport, how he’d convinced her to play those pranks, how she knew about the theft of the wedding rings but had wanted to confess before everything with Morgan went sour. But after the police arrived, Charlotte hadn’t had a chance to talk to Piper before the officers had led her outside for questioning.

  The girls and I looked back and forth between the two sisters, unsure of what was going to happen next.

  Piper took a hesitant step into the room, unable to meet her sister’s gaze. “I . . . um, the police let me go. They said that Morgan would be going to jail for a long time. Apparently he’s done this kind of thing to other people before. He’s . . . wanted for theft, fraud, some other stuff.”

  Charlotte said nothing. The tension in the room was almost unbearable.

  Piper took a steadying breath and went on. “But that’s not the point, is it? The point is, I let him convince me to do those things. Convince me to hurt you, Char. And I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me for that. I don’t know if I deserve to be forgiven. I let my jealousy blind me, and look what happened!” Piper’s voice began to falter, but she steadied herself and went on. “Anyway, there’s nothing I can say except: I’m so, so sorry. And if you never want to see me again, I’d understand.”

  Piper sighed and turned away, about to walk out of the room. But before she could, Charlotte picked up her dress and dashed forward to stop her. “Piper, wait,” she said, grabbing her sister by the shoulder. “What you did was—” She hesitated. “Mean. And dangerous. And incredibly stupid.” Piper looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. “But . . . you’re still my sister. And it’s my wedding day. And despite everything, I need you.”

  Piper looked up, a spark of hope in her eyes.

  “Will you stand beside me, Piper?” Charlotte asked.

  Piper’s face crumpled. “Oh, Charlotte!” She wrapped her sister in an embrace, and the two of them cried and hugged and cried until it was time to go to the church.

  Bess dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s just so beautiful,” she said, sniffling.

  George watched the whole scene with a mixture of confusion and amazement. “Weddings!” she muttered, shaking her head. “I’ll never understand
them.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Let Them Eat Cake

  “DO YOU, CHARLOTTE GOODWIN, TAKE Parker Hill to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?” The reverend paused, looking expectantly at Charlotte. His white robes seemed to glow in the rays of the late-afternoon sun, which poured through the stained-glass windows of the church, coloring everything and everyone at the wedding ceremony in a warm, almost magical light.

  I sat three rows back from the front pew with George, who was taking photos with her phone and sniffling. When I stole a look at her, she quickly wiped at her eyes and snapped, “What? It’s allergies.”

  I chuckled to myself and turned back to the ceremony. Bess was standing at the front with the other bridesmaids, looking perfectly lovely in a peach-colored gown and clutching a bouquet of white roses. Luckily, Charlotte had been able to correct the flower order just in time. All around me, every seat in the entire church was filled, but the whole place was silent as we all waited for Charlotte’s answer.

  Charlotte glanced back at Piper, who was standing just beside her. Piper reached out and grasped her sister’s hand, just for a second, before letting go. Her eyes glistening, Charlotte turned back to face Parker, who looked dashing in his navy-blue tuxedo, and said, “I do.”

  A moment later I heard a sob burst forth from someone in the front row. I craned my neck to see Mrs. Hill and Mrs. Goodwin clutching each other and weeping, fistfuls of tissues in their hands. I smiled. It looked like even those two families could put their differences behind them when true love was at stake.

  The reverend waited for the weeping to subside, then continued, “And do you, Parker Hill, take Charlotte Goodwin for your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

  Parker grinned his winning TV grin, and from the corner of the church, cameras flashed and clicked to capture the moment. Parker’s entire crew from the news station was there—photographers, cameramen, and reporters—covering the wedding. Tucker Matthews had been desperate to tell the station about all that had happened with Morgan: the stolen rings, the attempted kidnapping, the heroic rescue, but Parker had refused to let it go public. “I don’t want my wedding to be remembered as a flashy sound bite,” he had said to Tucker. “It isn’t about that. It’s about me and Charlotte.”

  Tucker was disappointed, but he understood. After everything had been cleared up, the two young men had made amends, promising to share a couple of drinks at the reception. Plus, Parker and Tucker agreed to work together on a special feature about the Grey Fox Inn, highlighting its history and importance to the city—which would certainly help John William’s bottom line.

  Parker waited until the cameras had stopped flashing, and took a moment to gaze at the face of his bride-to-be. “More than anything in the world, I do,” he finally said.

  The reverend placed their hands together and, his voice echoing through the church, announced, “Then by the power vested in me by the great state of South Carolina, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

  With that kiss, the whole of the church rose to their feet, applauding the happy couple. As Bess proceeded back with the other bridesmaids and groomsmen, she grabbed our hands and pulled George and me along with her. “C’mon, you two!” she said over the din of music and cheers. “It’s time to party!”

  Two hours later, in a waterfront ballroom nearby, I was sitting at the wedding reception, watching a crowd of party guests do the electric slide. “Nancy!” Bess shouted over the din. “Come and dance!”

  I laughed and waved her away. Line dancing was never really my thing—I always ended up bumping into people or stepping on their toes. Just ask Ned.

  I thought I had escaped the pull of the dance floor when I felt someone grab my hand. It was Tucker Matthews! “This party ride needs you on it, Nancy Drew!” he said in my ear.

  I shook my head. “Maybe later!”

  Tucker regarded me with a mischievous grin. “Earlier today you accused me of being a thief and got me roughed up by a lead anchorman—I think you owe me one!”

  Well, he has a point there, I thought, and allowed Tucker to drag me into the throng of dancers and join in. We snuck in next to Reggie and Alicia, who had been joined at the hip since the ceremony ended. From the look of them, it seemed like this wedding might mark the beginning of another beautiful relationship!

  After twenty minutes of nonstop dancing—during which I managed to avoid crushing any toes—the DJ came over the sound system and announced that it was time to cut the cakes. After the bride and groom sliced into the amazing three-tiered, fondant-sculpted, edible masterpiece that Carla from Sugar & Spice Bakery had concocted, Charlotte called all her bridesmaids over to the next table for the cutting of the charm cake. George and I walked over with Bess to get a better look; from what Carla had said about the tradition, it sounded like a lot of fun.

  As the bridesmaids all gathered around the table behind the cake, I felt a hand on my arm. It was Piper. “Nancy, I want to thank you again for everything you did to help Charlotte”—she paused—“and to help me. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t figured everything out in time. Morgan would have put me in that car, and I could have ended up . . . well, who knows where?” She looked down at her shoes and sighed. “Anyway, I made a really big mistake letting him get inside my head, and because of you, I had the opportunity to make it right, and to be here today with my sister.”

  I squeezed Piper’s shoulder. “I’m glad everything worked out the way it did,” I said.

  “Anyway,” Piper continued, “I want you to go and pull my ribbon for the charm cake. It’s the least I can do. You deserve to be a special part of this wedding—it wouldn’t have happened without you!”

  Delighted, I let myself be led to the table with the other bridesmaids. Charlotte gave me a hug as I approached. “Piper told me that she wanted you to take her place. Go ahead, Nancy—you pull the first ribbon!”

  I looked at the cake. Like the wedding cake, it was covered in white fondant, with a nest of beautifully sculpted peach-colored roses and green leaves crowning it. Sprouting out of the layers of the cake were four silk ribbons, one for each bridesmaid and one for the maid of honor. With every eye on me, and cameras flashing, I reached out, picked one of the ribbons, and pulled. Out of the thick icing emerged a small silver pendant, about the size of a quarter.

  “What is it? What is it?” Bess squealed from behind me, craning her neck to look.

  I picked up a napkin and wiped away the icing. The pendant was a tiny ship’s anchor. “What does it mean?” I asked, turning to Charlotte.

  Charlotte smiled. “The anchor represents adventure,” she said.

  From across the table, George laughed. “Well, of course it does!” she exclaimed. “When you’re with Nancy Drew, there’s always bound to be an adventure!”

  Dear Diary,

  * * *

  * * *

  * * *

  WOW—TALK ABOUT THE WEDDING OF the year! For all the trouble it took to get there, the wedding went off without a hitch. Everyone had a wonderful time, and the girls and I even got to be on TV! Of course, it was just a shot of us dancing to “We Are Family” with Parker and Charlotte, but it was still quite a thrill for us and our families back home.

  Bess, George, and I are sunning ourselves on the beach, enjoying our last day here before we fly back home to River Heights in the morning. George wanted to do the Charleston Ghost Walk tonight, but I told her I’m going to pass. I think I’ve had quite enough of ghosts for a while!

  * * *

  * * *

  READ WHAT HAPPENS IN THE NEXT MYSTERY IN THE NANCY DREW DIARIES,

  Riverboat Roulette

  “George, you’ve counted that money eight times,” my friend Bess Marvin said from the passenger seat of my car. “I pro
mise, you have enough for the entry fee.”

  “I just want to make sure,” her cousin George Fayne said from the backseat, where she was rifling through a large stack of twenty-dollar bills. I slowly rolled up my driver’s-side window as I inched forward in rush-hour traffic. The last thing we needed was for any of George’s hard-earned money to fly out the window.

  Bess gave me an exasperated look. I shrugged and gave a half smile. Bess knows that George gets fixated on things she’s passionate about, and there are few things George is more passionate about than poker. Her dad taught her when she was five and now she plays every weekend with her family; she even watches the World Series of Poker on TV.

  Bess is very even-keeled and doesn’t tend to become obsessed with things like games or new gadgets the way George does. In a lot of ways George and Bess are polar opposites, even though they’re incredibly close. George would wear jeans and a T-shirt every day if she could, while Bess is a bit of a fashionista. (Take tonight, for example: Bess had spent weeks looking for the perfect dress for the charity event we were attending before picking a gorgeous asymmetrical ruby-red gown, while George wore the same black pantsuit she wore to any event that required dressing up.) George loves technology, while Bess would rather send a paper letter than an e-mail. In general, I fall between them—for instance, I didn’t buy a new dress for tonight, but I did spend a good hour going through my closet choosing which dress to wear.