Strawberry Summer by Cynthia Blair Page B

Pinewood, it occurred to her that she still wasn’t sure of what she intended to do once she got there. She mainly planned to investigate that long flat building behind the tavern, the one both twins had noticed last night. And the place where she was certain she’d seen a man in a white shirt walking.
    But as she continued her hike, she had to admit that she was already less enthusiastic than she’d been the night before. She was afraid that she would learn very little. That what was supposed to be the first step in her “sleuthing” would turn out to be nothing more than a dead end.
    Finally, after crossing over a grassy patch at a bend in the road, the Inn came into view. She was relieved that she had finally reached her destination—but at the same time, the butterflies in her stomach reminded her how nervous she was about this little expedition.
    In the morning light, the Okie-Dokie Inn looked even more dilapidated than it had the night before. Its roof sagged slightly, its white shingles badly needed painting, and its small windows, now dark, reminded Chris of blank, staring eyes.
    But it wasn’t the Okie-Dokie itself that she was interested in. It was the office building behind it, half-hidden by the tavern. As Chris neared it, she instinctively moved slowly, being careful to stay in the shadows. She found a lookout at the side of the Inn, between the back “porch” and a huge green metal dumpster. Fortunately, no one was around.
    The Inn was all closed up, as she suspected it would be for a few hours yet.
    From her carefully chosen hideout, Chris had a good view of the offices and the parking lot. There were already several cars parked there, but no one was around. She decided that walking by each doorway would be safe enough, since there was nobody there even to notice her, much less to wonder what she was doing there. She stood up straight, clutched at her shoulder bag, and confidently strode out from the shadows, toward the walkway that ran the length of the building.
    The first door was plainly marked with two placards: “Dr. Silver, D.D.S.” and “Dr. Morgan, D.D.S.” Two dentists’ offices. Chris frowned, then walked by. Unless Camp Pine wood’s prowler was a dentist, chances were slim that this was the place to which he had retreated last night. Besides, she was certain that the man who had been illuminated by the headlights of Alan’s pickup truck had been heading down the other way.
    The second door had a bigger sign. “Taylor Temps,” it read. “Temporary Typing Services. By the Hour, By the Day.”
    There, that was a relief. If anyone happened to ask her what she was doing, lurking about, she could always say she was looking for Taylor Temps. To find out about a job. A summer job. She smiled to herself over the fact that she would, in a way, be telling the truth.
    That offered her an alibi—but it didn’t help her investigation any. She was beginning to get discouraged. Maybe walking over here like this, just to read the names on the doors, was nothing more than a waste of time. Still, she was determined to continue. She had come this far, and she wasn’t about to turn back now.
    Doorways three and four offered little of interest, Chris was chagrined to discover. One was an accountant’s office; the other, a lawyer’s. Again, she wondered if either of them belonged to the mystery man. But even if one did, there was little she could learn by loitering outside their entrances.
    She was surprised to see that there was a fifth doorway, tucked away at the very end of the building. She hadn’t noticed it before. That could well have been where the man was headed last night.... She crossed her fingers.
    Before she could reach the door, Chris had to pass by a large window, one that no doubt opened onto the front office or waiting room. She hoped that anyone in there would be too busy to notice her—especially since she fully intended to peer inside to see whatever she could see.
    She strode