The windows were easier to open from inside. As fresh air blew into the house, I ran to Mandy and touched her neck. Her pulse was throbbing. She was still alive.
“Mandy, sit up,” I said, lightly slapping her face.
Mandy mumbled something I couldn’t understand. But I had to leave her at the staircase to check on Mallory and Mia.
Thundering upstairs, I found the sisters in the same bedroom. After opening every window in the room, I took turns shaking Mallory and Mia.
“Wake up!” I called over and over.
Mia’s eyes fluttered open. “My head is killing me,” she said in a raspy voice.
“Mine too,” Mallory mumbled.
After helping them sit up, I said, “Headaches are one of the symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning. The other is death.”
“Carbon monoxide?” Mia asked. “But how—”
“I don’t know. Are there any carbon monoxide alarms in the house?” I asked. “Your car was running—you forgot to turn it off.”
“Nuh-uh!” Mandy’s voice said.
Turning, I saw Mandy leaning against the door frame. She still looked pale and groggy but had managed to walk up the stairs. A good sign.
“What do you mean, nuh-uh?” I asked.
“I remember turning the car off after I parked it in the garage,” Mandy said.
“I saw her do it,” Mallory said. “It’s a rental car, so she was trying to figure out how it worked.”
“Then why were the keys left in the car too?” I asked.
“Oops,” Mandy said with a shrug. “That was me.”
I cocked my head as I studied the sisters. As spaced-out as they were from the CO, they did seem pretty adamant about turning off the engine.
“So if you guys didn’t leave the engine running, who did?” I asked.
“Nancy, what are you saying?” Mallory said, her eyes wide. “Do you think somebody sneaked into our garage to turn on our car?”
“Most of River Heights doesn’t even know we’re here yet,” Mandy said.
I thought about it. The idea of someone killing the Casabian sisters—especially in River Heights—was kind of wild.
“Come on,” I said, nodding toward the door. “I’ll drive you to the emergency room so they can check you out.”
“The hospital?” Mandy shook her head. “Not an option.”
“Deirdre doesn’t want us to go public yet,” Mallory said, swinging her legs over the bed. “Anyway, I feel much, much better now.”
“Me too,” Mia said. “In fact, I could use some coffee and a little breakfast.”
I remembered the plastic container I’d left out on the porch. “In that case,” I said with a smile, “cinnamon buns, anyone?”
The Casabians and I ate Hannah’s sweet specialty. Soon it was past eight, and I had to get to the Marvins’ before the Bugle arrived.
As I drove, I couldn’t stop thinking about the close carbon monoxide call. Could someone have broken into the sisters’ garage to turn on the car and poison them? They were celebrities—and with celebrities came stalkers and wackos.
Once at the Marvin house, I raised the question with Bess and George.
“It does seem kind of weird,” Bess said, licking frosting off her fingers.
“Especially since no one knows the sisters are here yet,” George said.
“Hey, speaking of weird,” I said, remembering something else that happened. “I got a call in the middle of the night.”
“Who was it?” George asked.
“There was no one at the other end,” I said.
George groaned under her breath. “Quit it, Nancy,” she said. “Will you please just quit it?”
“Quit what?” I asked.
“Quit thinking too much,” George said. “The call you got probably was a wrong number, and the sisters are such flakes it’s no surprise they left the car running.”
I didn’t bother telling George that Mandy, Mallory, and Mia insisted they’d turned off the car. She probably wouldn’t believe it anyway.
“Whatever,” I said. “Fortunately, I got there in time to wake them up.”
“And speaking of sisters, here comes mine,” Bess said with a little sigh.
I looked up to see Bess’s twelve-year-old sister, Maggie, race into the kitchen. She was wearing leggings and an Austin Gruber T-shirt.
Austin was the famous teenage singer who Bess, George, and I met while solving our case in Malachite. For a while Austin was a suspect, but after we cleared him of sabotaging Stacey Manning’s fund-raising party, he became our friend.
“Cinnamon buns! Bring it!” Maggie squealed. She leaned over the table to grab a bun when—
“Step away from the cinnamon buns!” Mrs. Marvin’s voice snapped. “I repeat, Maggie, step away from the buns!”
Maggie’s hand froze over the plate. “Mom! You know I can eat a gazillion of these.”
“Which is exactly why you’re going to Camp Athena,” Mrs. Marvin said, folding her arms. “And not a moment too soon.”
“You’re going to camp this summer, Maggie?” I asked.
Maggie nodded, but not happily.
“I’ve never heard of Camp Athena,” George said.
“That’s because it’s a boot camp!” Maggie said with a scowl. “It’s not fair. You guys got to hang with Austin Gruber this summer, and I get shipped off to do hard labor.”
“Hey, we brought you back an Austin Gruber T-shirt,” George told Maggie.
I couldn’t get past the words Maggie had used to describe Camp Athena.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Marvin,” I said. “Why is Maggie going to a boot camp?”
“Camp Athena is anything but boot camp,” Mrs. Marvin said. “Maggie eats way too much junk food when she’s around her friends, which is why I looked into Camp Athena in the first place.”
Maggie rolled her eyes.
“Camp Athena is a camp that encourages healthy lifestyles, including positive thinking, exercise, and healthy eating,” Mrs. Marvin explained. “And it’s right here in River Heights.”
“Wait a minute. I think I saw something about that camp online,” George said. “Isn’t it run by a woman named Amy?”
“Yes!” Mrs. Marvin said with a smile. “Amy Paloma is a rising star in girls’ health. In fact, she was a guest last week on Rise and Shine, River Heights.”
“Going to camp is neat, Maggie,” I said, trying to cheer her up. “You’ll play sports, do arts and crafts, make s’mores—”
“S’mores—as if,” Maggie snorted. “We’ll probably eat birdseed and rabbit food.”
“I’ve already checked out the camp and was very impressed,” Mrs. Marvin told us. “I’m taking Maggie there today to see for herself.”
“Can’t I go with Bess instead?” Maggie asked.
“Me?” Bess asked.
Maggie nodded and said, “If you like it, I’ll go. If you don’t, I won’t.”
“Oh, Maggie.” Mrs. Marvin sighed. She turned to Bess and said, “Will you go with her?”
“I was going to start working on Dad’s shed today, Mom,” Bess said.
“Please, Bess?” Maggie begged. “It’ll only take a few minutes to check out that stupid camp.”
I wanted so badly to eat another cinnamon bun, but I didn’t want to tempt Maggie. I was also curious about Camp Athena and Amy Paloma. Was she really so dynamic?
“I’ll go too, Bess,” I said.
“So will I,” George said. “If they have computers, maybe I can drum up some business.”
“Okay, okay,” Bess said. “We’ll all go to Camp Athena later this morning.”
“Yes!” Maggie said. She turned to her mom. “Now can I have a cinnamon bun? If I go to Camp Athena, I may never see food again.”
Mrs. Marvin chuckled, then said, “You can have half of one.”
I tore a bun in half and shared it with Maggie. Just as I was about to pop it in my mouth, we heard a thunk!
“The Bugle’s here!” Bess said, jumpin
g up from her chair.
The three of us raced outside, where the River Heights Bugle lay on the doorstep. Bess turned to page four and sang, “Ta-daaaa!”
George and I peered over her shoulder at the page. Splashed across the River Heights Spotlight section wasn’t an article about us, but a photo of Mandy, Mallory, and Mia!
“ ‘River Heights Welcomes the Casabians,’ ” Bess read the headline. “ ‘By Ned Nickerson.’ ”
“Ned?” I gasped. “This page four article is supposed to be about us.”
“I thought the River Heights Bugle didn’t print cheesy celebrity gossip,” George said angrily.
“They do now,” Bess said. “I wonder what changed their minds.”
“What—or who,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Deirdre said she wanted to talk to Ned about running a piece on the Casabians.”
“Whatever Deirdre Shannon wants,” Bess said with a sigh, “Deirdre gets.” She closed the paper as we sulked back into the house.
“I guess Deirdre was right in one way,” I said.
“What?” George asked.
“Mandy, Mallory, and Mia are bigger celebrities than we are,” I said. “Especially here in River Heights.”
We swallowed our disappointment and the rest of Hannah’s cinnamon buns.
A couple of hours later, the four of us piled into Bess’s car for the drive to Camp Athena.
Once we arrived, Bess parked the car outside the camp gate. I was impressed by the two topiaries flanking the gate, trimmed to resemble Greek goddesses.
We filed through the gate and gazed at the campgrounds. There were several wooden bunks and a few larger cabins I guessed were the arts and crafts cabin, the theater, and the mess hall. Maggie seemed interested in checking out the other campers. Some girls, who looked about ten years old, were following their counselor to the tennis court. Another group of girls, dressed in bathing suits, were heading for what looked like a pool on a hill.
“Look,” Bess said. “That’s probably Amy Paloma.”
I followed Bess’s gaze to see a tanned woman with honey-blond hair walking over to us. She wore khaki shorts and a crisp white camp T-shirt. A shiny silver whistle hung around her neck.
“Welcome to Camp Athena,” the woman greeted us. “I’m Amy Paloma.”
She extended her hand to Maggie and said, “I’ll bet you’re Maggie Marvin. Your mom called to say you were visiting today.”
“Hello,” Maggie said, politely shaking Amy’s hand.
“I’m Maggie’s sister, Bess,” Bess introduced herself. “And these are my friends Nancy and George.”
“George?” Amy said, grinning at George. “How I love names that are not gender specific. How progressive of your parents to give you such a strong name as George.”
“Her real name is Georgia,” Maggie said.
George squirmed, as she always did whenever someone used her given name.
“Can we have a tour of the camp?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“Yes, of course,” Amy said. “Follow me.”
The four of us walked with Amy as she proudly showed us around Camp Athena.
“Our bunks are named after Greek goddesses such as Demeter, Artemis, and Diana,” Amy explained.
“What about Aphrodite?” Bess asked.
Amy shook her head. “It’s not that I have anything against the goddess of beauty, but here at Camp Athena we strive first for wisdom and empowerment.”
After showing us the pool and the volleyball and tennis courts, Amy took us to the dining hall. She explained that she hated the term “mess hall”—“Too negative,” she said.
Some campers and counselors were eating an early lunch, chatting as they passed bowls and juice bottles.
“What are they eating?” Maggie asked.
“Veggie burgers and sweet potato fries,” Amy said. “For dessert we have a melon salad with crushed walnuts.”
“Sounds decent,” Maggie said sincerely.
The campers seemed friendly and happy to be at Camp Athena. Three girls were even wearing Casabian Sisters T-shirts.
“I see you have some fans of Mandy, Mallory, and Mia,” I told Amy.
Amy bristled, then spoke. “I try not to encourage celebrity worship here—especially of those sisters—but it’s also important for the girls to express their interests.”
“Look over there,” Bess said, pointing to one of the tables. “Don’t we know that girl?”
I looked to see where Bess was pointing. Sitting at the end of the table was a camper I recognized right away.
“That’s Alice Bothwell!” I said with a smile.
“You mean the future mayor of Malachite Beach?” George said, smiling too. “No way!”
“You know Alice?” Amy asked.
“We met her while we were in California,” I said. “Alice helped us with a huge save-the-beach party back at Malachite. It was her idea.”
“That sounds like Alice,” Amy said. “She definitely has a can-do attitude.”
By now Alice had spotted us, too. Amy motioned to her to come over, and she did, all smiles.
“I thought you guys lived in River Heights!” Alice said excitedly.
“What are you doing here, Alice?” I asked. “When we left Malachite, you were still busy cleaning up the beach.”
“My mom wanted me to take a break,” Alice said with a shrug. “She thought Camp Athena would be perfect for me.”
“Is it?” Amy asked.
“For sure!” Alice confirmed. “Even if it is thousands of miles from Malachite Beach.”
“You’re not the only one here from Malachite Beach,” Bess said. “The Casabian—”
George quickly clamped her hand over Bess’s mouth.
“Never mind,” Bess murmured through the hand.
I glanced at Maggie, who seemed to be examining what the campers were eating.
“The food here does look pretty good,” Maggie said. “I thought they’d be serving rabbit food.”
“So not!” Alice said with a chuckle. “We save the rabbit food for our rabbits.”
“You have rabbits here?” Maggie asked.
“Three of them,” Alice said. She looked up at Amy. “Mind if I show Maggie the camp zoo? I already finished lunch.”
“You have a zoo here too?” I asked, surprised.
“Well, a nature center,” Amy said. “I want all campers to appreciate different species.”
Alice accompanied us on our trek to see the animals. I could see her pointing out camp sights to Maggie as they walked a few feet ahead.
“FYI,” I whispered to Bess. “Looks like Maggie made a new friend.”
“If she decides to come here,” Bess whispered back. “Fingers crossed.”
When we reached a small hut, we found guinea pigs, rabbits—even a snake coiled up in a Plexiglas tank.
“Whoa!” George said as we gazed at the olive-colored snake with the black bandit mask.
“Don’t worry,” Amy said. “The tank has a solid and very secure lid. The small openings are for ventilation.”
“Sometimes I help the nature counselor feed the animals and clean the tanks and pens,” Alice said.
“Why am I not surprised?” I asked.
Maggie was still staring at the snake, her eyes wide. “Is that a rattlesnake?” she asked.
“Slithers is a Florida cottonmouth,” Amy explained. “They’re totally rare here in the Midwest, so I had her imported from the South.”
“Cool!” Maggie said. “Amy, once I’m a camper, can I visit the zoo whenever I like?”
“As long as it’s on your bunk’s schedule,” Amy said.
“Is there room for me in Alice’s bunk?” Maggie asked.
“We have two bunks for twelve-year-olds, Bunk Diana and Bunk Harmonia,” Amy said. “I don’t see why you can’t be in Bunk Harmonia with Alice, but let me double-check once I’m back in the office.”
“Yes!” Maggie cheered as she and Alice high-five
d.
“Does that mean you want to go to Camp Athena, Maggie?” Bess asked.
“Definitely,” Maggie said excitedly. “This place is cool for a boot camp.”
“We don’t use that expression, dear,” Amy said.
We said good-bye to our “sister species” and to Alice, who had to join her bunkmates. Amy walked us through the campgrounds toward the gate. On the way we passed some girls practicing archery. One girl with curly black hair pulled the bow all the way back before letting it go. The arrow landed with a thunk on the round target, just barely missing the bull’s-eye.
“Good shot, Trisha!” Amy called. She turned to us and said, “Archery teaches not only skill and precision but safety and responsibility.”
Maggie’s eyes weren’t on the archery practice but on the nearby woods. “Are there bears in the woods?” she asked.
Amy chuckled as she shook her head. “Just some broken-down bunks from an old camp called Green Ridge,” she answered. “The camp closed down decades ago. I’m planning to have the buildings torn down by next summer.”
“Green Ridge,” Bess repeated. “Sounds like the setting in a mystery I just finished reading.”
“Do you like mysteries?” Amy asked.
“They don’t just read mysteries,” Maggie said proudly. “Nancy, Bess, and George solve mysteries!”
“Is that so?” Amy asked.
“We’re detectives,” I said.
“The River Heights Bugle almost had an article written about them,” Maggie said. “But they were dumped for the Casabian sisters.”
“Thanks for the reminder, Mag,” George said.
“It’s not every day I meet female detectives,” Amy said. “How would you like to speak to the girls in a couple of weeks? I like to have special guests visit the camp.”
“You want us to be the special guests?” Bess asked, surprised.
“Absolutely,” Amy said. “You girls are excellent role models. I’m sure the campers will love hearing you talk about solving mysteries.”
“I’ll have to ask Mr. Safer for a day off first,” I said. “But I’m sure he won’t have a problem if I make up the hours.”
“Then it’s a go,” Amy said happily.
“Yes!” Maggie cheered under her breath.
Once we were at the gate, Amy pulled an envelope from her waist pouch and handed it to Bess.