Free The Ghost of Grey Fox Inn by Carolyn Keene Page B

said. I turned the bag upside downto make sure nothing else was inside, and a single scrap of paper fluttered out. I picked it up and scanned the writing. “But this might help us figure it out.”
    It was a tattered newspaper clipping, yellowed with age. There were pictures of cars that looked at least seventy-five years old, as well as an ad calling for women to try out a new girdle that would make their waists look thinner. But most of the page was taken up by an article with the headline SPOOKY HAUNTINGS AT THE GREY FOX INN! It read:
    Out-of-towners are once again hollering about the haunted happenings at the local Grey Fox Inn. Guests at the inn speak of a “uniformed gentleman” who makes visits to their rooms, opening doors, moving objects, and appearing to startled citizens in the wee hours of the night. Contrary to expectations, patronage of the inn has reached an all-time high, according to the owner, with the entire establishment fullybooked through the end of the year. It seems like everyone in Charleston is looking to get a peek at the Ghost of Grey Fox Inn!
    I handed the article over to Bess and George and tapped my chin in thought. From the sound of it, back then the inn had been haunted by the same kind of “ghost” as we were dealing with right now! But what did this have to do with Charlotte’s wedding? Was the culprit hoping to use this tidbit of history to make their pranks seem like genuine ghost sightings? Were they hoping that Mrs. Hill’s superstitious nature would be upset by all the bad juju and she would call off the wedding? If so, the plan had almost worked. It was only after it had been made clear that the ceremony was still on that the wedding rings had been stolen. Obviously the culprit needed to go to greater lengths in order to shut the whole thing down—so that’s what they did.
    Tucker Matthews, being in the news business, would have had access to a lot of this information. But then again, so would Alicia. In fact, considering that she’d worked at the historical society, Alicia wouldhave had even greater access to the history of the inn; certainly newspaper clippings like this one. I couldn’t zero in on Tucker as my main suspect without ruling out Alicia, and that meant taking a trip over to the historical society itself. I had a feeling that someone there might be able to shed more light on Alicia’s feelings toward Charlotte and Parker—if she was the one behind all this, we needed to figure that out fast.
    The three of us climbed up the ladder and picked our way through the dark, back to my room. After shutting the hidden panel behind us, we all collapsed onto chairs, dusty and exhausted.
    â€œUgh, look at the carpet,” Bess said. “It looks like we tracked in more of that ash—just like the ghost did when he came in here.”
    â€œI’ll try and clean it up a little tomorrow before the maid comes in,” I said with a yawn. “In the meantime, here’s our plan.” I quickly laid out my thoughts about Alicia, and we agreed to make a trip to the historical society first thing in the morning, before any of the wedding activities began. “We need to start crossingoff names,” I finished, “and I think this is the best chance we’ve got at figuring out who did all this and getting the rings back in time.”
    Bess and George nodded. As we all said our good nights, I tried to sound more confident than I felt. Tomorrow was the big day. Charlotte and Parker surely had their vows all planned out, and I hadn’t forgotten mine. For better or for worse—it was my job to save this wedding!

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Rest Is History
    BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
    I felt like my head had only just hit the pillow when my alarm clock went off. Blearily, I groped around until my hand hit the snooze button, and the room was silent once again. I collapsed back into the covers and yawned.
    No time for snoozing,