“There’s one other person we should consider,” Henry told them. “Somebody who wants everyone to believe Shadowbox is haunted.”
“Who’s that, Henry?” Violet asked.
“Fran,” Henry said.
“Fran!” The others were so surprised, all they could do was stare at their older brother with their mouths open.
“You don’t mean that, do you, Henry?” said Jessie. “You can’t really be suspicious of Fran.”
Henry looked around at them. “We have to consider everybody.”
“But why would she want to fool us, Henry?” Violet’s soft eyes were serious. “She’s been so nice to us.”
“We all like her,” said Henry, keeping his voice low. “But still … she is proud of her family ghost.”
Jessie nodded slowly. “And she likes to entertain visitors.”
“Maybe we should keep a lid on this for now,” Henry suggested. “I think we should try to figure out a few things on our own first.” The others agreed.
“What if Buttercup really is trying to tell Fran something?” said Benny.
Jessie, who was sitting on the bed right next to him, gave her little brother a hug. “That was no ghost out there, Benny,” she assured him. Still, it did make her wonder.
CHAPTER 8
How Many Were Going to St. Ives?
The next morning, the four Aldens joined Fran for breakfast on the back patio. Lottie had left early for work, so the umbrella table was set for five. With the sun shining and the birds chirping, they munched happily on blueberry muffins, cold cereal, and fresh strawberries. The children put all thoughts of the runaway ghost aside for a while — at least until Fran said the strangest thing.
“It seems the old photograph of Homer has disappeared,” she announced.
“What?” Henry held a spoonful of cereal in midair. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure, Henry,” Fran said as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “I searched high and low for it this morning, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Oh, it’s gone, all right.”
“I can’t believe it!” said Violet, her eyes wide. “Who could have taken it?”
Benny swallowed a mouthful of muffin. “I know who.”
All eyes turned to the youngest Alden. “Who, Benny?” asked Jessie.
“A thief. That’s who!”
Fran held up a hand. “Now, now, Benny, let’s not jump to any conclusions.”
Nodding, Jessie took a sip of her orange juice. “We can’t be certain it was actually stolen.”
“Besides,” Violet added, “why would anyone want to steal an old photograph of Fran’s relatives?”
“You’re right, Violet,” Henry said after a moment’s thought. “It doesn’t make sense.”
As Fran helped herself to another muffin, a frown crossed her kind face. “Visitors are always curious about the man who painted The Runaway Ghost. I was planning to get the photograph enlarged. That way, folks could see what Homer looked like.”
“Don’t worry, Fran,” Jessie assured her. “We’ll look for it after breakfast.”
“Thanks anyway, Jessie, but there’s no need to waste your time like that. I’ve already given the place a thorough going-over.”
“Wow, that makes three mysteries!” Benny pointed out.
Fran looked puzzled. “Three mysteries?”
Violet nudged her little brother under the table. Now Benny remembered — he wasn’t supposed to mention the cowbell ringing in the night.
Changing the subject, Jessie said, “I sure hope the photograph turns up soon.”
“So do I,” Fran replied. Then she added, “The gallery phoned, so I’m off to town again. They need a fresh supply of my greeting cards.”
“Maybe we could lend a hand,” Violet volunteered. She remembered how tired Fran had been after their walking tour of Cedarburg.
“We could deliver the cards for you,” Jessie was quick to agree.
“Oh, you wouldn’t mind?” Fran looked relieved.
“We’ll get your cards there in a flash!” promised Benny.
This made Henry smile a little. “Well, we’ll get them there safe and sound, that’s for sure.”
After breakfast, Fran scribbled the address on a piece of paper. “The Creekside Gallery is right in the middle of town. You can’t miss it.”
Henry folded the paper that Fran handed him. Then he carefully put the address in his pocket.
“I’m sure Amanda will be pleased.” Fran handed the Aldens two old shoeboxes from the counter. CARDS BY FRAN was written across each in blue ink. “There are plenty here. Enough to keep the gallery stocked for a while, I think.”
“We can use my backpack to carry them,” Jessie offered.
As they set off for town, Violet said, “Poor Fran! That was her only photograph of Homer.”
Benny frowned. “I wonder why Lottie stole it.”
“Benny!” Jessie exclaimed. “We shouldn’t suspect people until we’re certain it was actually stolen.”
After a moment’s thought, Violet said, “It does seem odd, though, that it suddenly disappeared.”
“I think we should concentrate on one mystery at a time,” suggested Henry.
“You’re right, Henry,” Jessie agreed. “And finding that treasure for Fran comes first.”
When they reached the Creekside Gallery, the Aldens looked at each other in surprise. It was the same gallery where Lottie worked. “It looks like Lottie’s got another customer,” said Benny, peering through the window. “Only this time it’s a lady in a big straw hat.”
As they stepped inside, Jessie reminded her little brother, “Let’s keep out of her way while she’s working.”
A smartly dressed woman was standing behind the counter. She looked up when the Aldens approached. “May I help you?” she asked.
The youngest Alden sprang forward. “We’re the Speedy Alden Delivery Service,” he announced. “And we brought something from Fran.”
The salesclerk gave Benny an amused smile. “My name’s Amanda, and I’m sure glad you came so fast. As of this morning, Fran’s cards are completely sold out.”
After introductions had been made, Jessie tugged the shoeboxes from her backpack. “There should be enough here to last a while,” she said cheerfully, as she placed the boxes on the counter. “At least, that’s what Fran says.”
Amanda was looking inside one of the boxes. “She really has the magic touch, doesn’t she?” She held up a greeting card. Pressed forget-me-nots and lavender had been arranged to form a delicate heart-shaped design on the front.
Violet gasped. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”
Amanda flashed them a smile. “I guarantee this batch won’t be on the shelf for long.”
Benny, who was glancing around, suddenly touched Henry’s arm. “Hey, that man was here yesterday!”
“What man?” Henry asked.
“Over there.” Benny nodded toward a customer at the far end of the gallery. “Wasn’t he sitting across from Lottie yesterday?”
Henry shrugged a little. “It’s hard to tell.”
The man, who was studying a painting on the back wall, was broad-shouldered and had dark hair. Although his back was to them, he looked vaguely familiar. Suddenly the man turned around.
“Look, he has a beard,” Benny whispered loudly. “That is the same man.”
Hearing this, Amanda said, “That’s Rally Jensen. He’s an art collector from out of town. Actually, he’s been in here quite a bit lately.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “I’m hoping he’ll purchase a painting before he leaves tomorrow,” she added, crossing her fingers.
“I’m sure he will,” Violet said. She glanced around admiringly at the colorful canvases hanging on the walls. “You have some beautiful artwork.”
Amanda beamed. “We only display the very best.”
“Violet’s an artist, too,” said Benny proudly.
Amanda’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
Violet sm
iled shyly. “I do like to sketch and draw.”
“Well, I’m glad you told me.” Amanda bent down to rummage around beneath the counter. “I have some reading material you might find interesting, Violet.” Straightening up, she held out a handful of brochures. “You’ll find a ton of information about artists in these,” she said. “Please help yourself. They’re just cluttering things up around here.”
“Thank you!” Violet’s face lit up.
Everyone glanced through the brochures except Benny. He was too busy looking around at the other people in the gallery. The lady in the big straw hat was going out the door with the sketch Lottie drew of her. When she left, the art collector went over to Lottie and began to talk quietly.
Benny watched as Fran’s boarder listened to what the man was saying. She was pale and she looked upset. The man suddenly turned on his heel and started for the door. “Remember, it’s tonight or never!” he called back over his shoulder. Then he left.
“Did you hear that?” Benny whispered to Henry.
“Yes,” his brother answered. Jessie and Violet had heard it, too.
Lottie slumped down in her chair, her chin in her hands. She did not look happy. She sat very still for a moment. Then, as if feeling the children’s eyes on her, she looked up. The Aldens could tell by the look on her face that Lottie was startled to see them. In a flash, she was on her feet and out the door, leaving the children to stare after her.
The Aldens thanked Amanda and left the gallery.
Outside, they turned to one another. “That was very strange,” Benny said. “Lottie didn’t even say hi to us.”
“She’s acting very suspiciously,” Jessie added.
Henry agreed. “You’d think we’d just caught her in the middle of something she wanted to keep secret.”
“That man, Rally Jensen, said it was tonight or never,” Benny reminded them as they started back to Shadowbox. “I wonder what he meant by that.”
Henry shrugged. “There’s no way of knowing.”
“Do you think Lottie’s up to something?” Benny wondered.
“Yes,” Jessie answered with a quick nod. “We just don’t know what.”
“You can’t be sure of that, Jessie.” Violet didn’t like to think the young artist would do anything wrong. “Rally Jensen’s an art collector. For all we know, Lottie might be planning to show him some of her art before he leaves town.”
Jessie turned to her sister. “But, Violet, that doesn’t explain her reaction. Whatever that man was whispering, it seemed to really upset her.”
“It is suspicious,” Violet admitted. “But I don’t think we should jump to any conclusions.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Jessie said, backing down a little. Violet had a point. It was one thing to suspect somebody, it was another thing to have proof. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
“I’m not sure I trust Lottie,” Henry said. “I think we should keep an eye on her for a while.” The others agreed.
Benny’s face suddenly broke into a grin as four small black dogs came toward them. A teenage boy in a green-and-yellow baseball cap was holding onto their leashes.
“You sure are lucky to have four dogs!” Benny told the teenager.
“They’re not mine,” the boy answered. “I just walk them for a neighbor.”
“Oh, too bad,” Benny said, as one of the puppies licked his hand.
The teenager shrugged. “I’m a dogwalker. That’s what I do for the summer.”
“Cool job,” said Henry.
“Yeah, I guess it’s all right.” He turned to Benny. “You can pet them if you want.”
“Thanks!” Benny was all smiles as he dropped to the ground. The dogs began to wag their tails as he scratched them behind the ears.
“We have a little dog at home,” Violet told the boy shyly. “His name’s Watch.”
The teenager wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Well, I’d better go. I have to take the dogs to the park.” Then he hurried away.
“I’m going to be a dogwalker when I grow up,” Benny announced, as he ran along beside Henry. “And a detective.”
“You’re already a dogwalker, Benny,” Violet pointed out. “We’re always taking Watch for walks.”
“And you’re a pretty good detective already,” Jessie reminded her little brother.
Violet frowned in thought. “I just wonder if we’ll solve the case we’re on now.”
“It’s going to be much harder than we thought,” admitted Jessie.
Henry nodded as he turned to face Jessie. “A tree house called Little St. Ives isn’t much to go on.”
They were deep in thought when Benny began to chant, “When we were going to Shadowbox, we met a boy and four dogs out for a walk. How many were going to Shadowbox?”
They all laughed at their little brother’s funny riddle.
Benny added everything up on his fingers. “The four of us … plus the boy … plus four puppies. That makes nine going to Shadowbox!”
“Not quite, Benny.” Henry smiled and shook his head. “Only the four of us are going to Shadowbox. The boy and the dogs are going the other way.”
“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” said Benny.
Jessie suddenly snapped her fingers. “That’s it!”
Henry turned and gave Jessie a confused look. “What’s it?”
“I know how many were going to St. Ives!”
“We already figured that out,” Benny reminded her.
“Well, I’m pretty sure we got it wrong,” Jessie said excitedly. “Remember how the riddle goes?” She began to recite, “When I was going to St. Ives/ I met a man with seven wives.” She paused for a moment to let them think about it. “Don’t you see?” she said at last. “What if the man and his wives — and their sacks and cats and kits — were all going in the opposite direction?”
“Then only the person who met them is going to St. Ives!” cried Benny.
“Exactly!” said Jessie. “And that means, the answer to the riddle is one.”
Henry nodded. “You must be right, Jessie.”
“So the number one is our next clue?” Violet looked puzzled. “What kind of clue is that?”
“And where’s it leading us?” added Henry.
“I think I know,” Benny said, breaking into a run. “Come on!” He motioned for the others to follow.
CHAPTER 9
Saved by the Bell
“The answer to the riddle is one,” Benny called back as he rounded the corner, racing for Shadowbox. “And Buttercup has the number one on her bell!”
“You think the answer to the riddle has something to do with Buttercup?” Violet asked, running right behind him.
“I’m sure of it,” Benny said. “We just have to … oh, no!” Benny stopped suddenly at the top of the driveway.
“What?” Jessie asked, trying to catch her breath.
“The riddle leads us straight to Buttercup,” Benny explained, “but Buttercup isn’t around anymore. And that means — ”
“We’ve come to another dead end,” finished Violet.
Just then, they heard a familiar voice drifting out the open window of Shadowbox. It was Grandfather!
Benny rushed inside, arms outstretched. Grandfather was standing in the hallway with Fran. He laughed and returned the hug.
“Grandfather, you’re back!” Jessie hugged him, too.
“I finished my work sooner than expected,” Grandfather told them, embracing Violet and Henry. Then everyone was talking at once.
“I bought a ghost cookie cutter,” Benny told him.
“We played croquet on the back lawn last night,” Jessie said.
“Fran showed us how to press flowers,” Violet was saying.
“We’ve been trying to solve a mystery,” added Henry.
Grandfather chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve been busy.”
As they sat down to lunch, Fran turned to Grandfather. “Let’s do something
special tonight. How does a picnic supper in the park sound? A local group’s performing in the band shell.”
Grandfather thought an outdoor concert sounded great. So did everyone else.
“You know, it’s been ages since I’ve seen Nelson,” Grandfather said. “Why not invite him along tonight?”
It took Fran a moment to answer, but when she did, she was smiling. “That’s exactly what I’ll do, James. Thanks to Violet,” she added, “I’ve come to realize how little time Nelson and I spend together these days.”
“Maybe we could invite Reese and her mother, too,” suggested Jessie.
“Yes, I might as well mend all my bridges.” Fran nodded. “Oh, and I must remember to phone Lottie. She can meet us at the park after work.”
Benny swallowed a bite of his ham sandwich. “And we can bring the croquet set along, too.” He sounded excited.
After lunch, Grandfather went upstairs to take a nap. The children cleared the table while Fran made her phone calls. Cora accepted Fran’s invitation eagerly. So did Nelson. Lottie was the only one who had other plans. The Aldens couldn’t help wondering if her plans had anything to do with Rally Jensen, the art collector.
When the kitchen was spic and span, the children joined Fran in her workroom. Fran passed out heavy stationery, folded in half. “The flowers are very delicate, so handle them carefully,” she advised.
Violet decided on a border of purple pansies on the front of her card. Henry made a zigzag design with goldenrod and the dark green tendrils of a morning glory. Jessie draped red velvet ribbon through a wreath of creamy elder blossoms. And Benny used bright yellow buttercups to form the letter B.
They were just finishing when Grandfather poked his head into the room. “So this is where everyone’s hiding.”
The children smiled proudly as Grandfather oohed and aahed over their greeting cards.
“I bet you didn’t know your grandchildren were so talented, did you, James?” Fran said, her eyes shining.
At that, Grandfather had to laugh. “Fran, my grandchildren never cease to amaze me!”
“I guess we’ll never find the treasure.” Benny sighed as he added a spoonful of mayonnaise to the potato salad. “Not without Buttercup to lead us to it.”
The Mystery of the Runaway Ghost Page 5