“Where is he?” Henry said, running up to her. Jessie, Violet, and Amira were with him, looking pale and frightened.
“I don’t know,” Violet said. She shook her head hopelessly.
“Ohmigosh! There’s one of them,” Jessie hissed. She pointed to a man in sunglasses moving swiftly down the corridor. It was impossible to tell where he was heading.
“Jessie, you and Amira head to the right,” Henry said urgently. “Come on, Violet, you and I will go the opposite way.”
After a terrifying few minutes, Violet spotted a small familiar figure sitting on the floor. “Benny!” She rushed up to him and hugged him. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I am.” He looked surprised. “I just got tired of looking at dresses. And I’m hungry, too.” He stood up and dusted himself off. “May we go eat lunch now?”
“Oh, Benny! You’re safe!” Jessie said as she raced up to her brother, and gave him a bear hug. Benny was more confused than ever. Why was everyone making such a big deal? Even Amira patted him on the head and whispered that she hoped he wasn’t frightened. Why would he be frightened?
“I’ve got a great, idea, Benny,” Henry said, looping his arm over his brother’s shoulders. “Why don’t we have a picnic lunch on the grass?”
“Whoopee!” Benny hooted.
Twenty minutes later, they had settled on a quiet spot in front of the Museum of Natural History. It was a sunny day and some children were playing on “Uncle Beazley,” a life-size fiberglass model of a dinosaur.
“That’s a triceratops,” Benny said confidently. “I have a picture of him in my dinosaur book.” He munched on the hot dog and french fries that they’d bought from a vendor. “Can I go play on him?”
“As soon as you finish lunch — ” Jessie began, and broke off, laughing. Benny had polished off his hot dog in two giant bites and was already scampering across the grass!
“Stay where we can see you!” Henry called. He watched as Benny joined some other children in a game of tag, and then turned to the girls. “I think we need to talk.”
Amira ducked her head, her long dark hair hiding her expression. Violet had been surprised when she had skipped the hot dogs and ordered an unusual-looking food on pita bread. She said it was called falafel and was popular in Middle Eastern countries.
“Those men in the museum, Amira,” Henry continued, “you saw them this time, didn’t you?”
Amira looked up, her eyes wide. “Yes, but I think you’re making too much out of this.”
“But they were after Benny!” Violet objected. “You saw what they were up to!”
“I never saw them chase Benny,” Amira said quietly. “I think Benny just wandered away, and the men happened to disappear at the same time.” She shrugged. “You put four and four together. That’s why you jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
For a moment no one said anything, and then Jessie giggled. “Four and four? Don’t you mean two and two?”
Amira flushed. “Of course, I mean two and two. When I am nervous, I forget … I forget what I was going to say.”
She seemed so upset that Violet leaned over and patted her arm. “Don’t worry, Amira. Nobody thinks that you have anything to do with those men.”
Amira smiled gratefully. “I really do think that you’re all worrying too much. Those men would never hurt Benny or any of you. That’s the last thing on their minds.”
Everyone went back to eating lunch, but Jessie stared at Amira. How could she know what the men in sunglasses were thinking, or planning? Was Henry right? Did Amira know more than she was telling? And what a funny mistake to make — saying four and four, instead of two and two.
After lunch, everyone headed to the west building of the National Gallery of Art.
“I’d like to see the Impressionist paintings,” Amira said. “They’re always so pretty and full of sunlight.”
Minutes later, the Aldens found themselves in front of a colorful landscape painted by Claude Monet. A guide was explaining the painter’s style to a group of tourists, and Violet edged forward. Suddenly she spotted a familiar figure in the middle of the crowd.
“Isn’t that John Sudderth from the B and B?” she whispered to Jessie.
Jessie stood on tiptoe and peered over her sister’s head. “I think so. I bet he spends a lot of time in art galleries, since he’s an artist himself.”
The Aldens listened for a few minutes as the guide described how the artist made the vivid colors come alive on the canvas.
“But why do they call it impressionism?” a voice interrupted. Violet recognized the speaker. It was John Sudderth.
“That’s a good question,” the guide said. He gestured to the painting in front of him. “The style was very unusual for the time because Monet painted his impression of the scene instead of trying to make it look realistic.”
Henry listened intently, frowning. If John Sudderth was an artist, wouldn’t he already know that?
The group moved on, and the Aldens stayed behind to admire some paintings of ballerinas by Degas. Violet looked troubled, her mind going back to John Sudderth. What had he been doing in room six the other day? Should she have spoken up, even though the travelers’ checks had reappeared?
Much later that evening, the Aldens were relaxing over a game of cards when Mrs. Parsons appeared. “This is terrible,” she said, sinking into a dining room chair. She cupped her chin in her hands, and looked as though she were going to cry.
“What’s wrong?” Violet said, jumping to her feet. She liked Mrs. Parsons and hated to see her upset.
“I’m missing some money from the wall safe,” she said quietly. “This time, it’s a large sum of money.”
“The wall safe?” Jessie asked. “Where is it?”
“It’s in the front hall.” She shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know how anyone managed to break into it. I even had a security mirror installed, so I could keep an eye on it.”
“What’s a security mirror?” Benny piped up.
Mrs. Parsons turned to Benny. “It’s that round mirror on the wall, Benny. It’s angled a certain way, so that I can get a good view of the hall, even when I’m sitting behind the reception desk.”
“Did they smash the lock on the safe?” Henry asked.
Mrs. Parsons shook her head. “No, so that means they must have known the combination.” She sighed and put her hands in her lap. “I’m the only one who knows the combination.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Parsons,” Henry said reassuringly. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“That’s right,” Jessie added. “You can count on us.”
Later, Jessie wandered down the front hall to take a look at the safe. It was built into the wall, a gray metal box with a combination lock in the middle. As far as she could tell, it didn’t have any scratches or dents on it. Someone must have known the combination, she decided. But who? There were so many suspects — a whole boarding house full of people. Who would want to steal from Mrs. Parsons? She was still thinking about the theft later that night when she heard a familiar, soft rumble outside the front door. She peeked out through the living room drapes and saw the long black limousine creeping down the street.
CHAPTER 8
Sightseeing with Amira
The next morning, the Aldens and Amira gathered in the living room after breakfast to plan their day.
“The museums don’t open until ten,” Violet said, flipping through a guidebook. “So we have half an hour to decide what to do.”
“I know what I want to do!” Benny said, flopping down on the sofa. “I want to go to the insect zoo!”
“You’re kidding! You mean there’s really a whole zoo filled with insects?” Amira’s eyes were wide with surprise.
“It’s part of the Museum of Natural History,” Jessie told her. “Don’t worry. If you don’t like creepy, crawly things, there are plenty of other exhibits there.”
“We should go to the museum’s Discovery Room, too,” H
enry suggested. He turned to his younger brother. “You’ll like it, Benny. They have shells and costumes, and you can play with them as much as you want. They even have a mastodon tooth you can hold in your hand.”
“Wow!” Benny said. He bounded to his feet. “Let’s go!”
“It’s not open yet,” Henry reminded him, ruffling Benny’s hair.
“I’m going to call the Smithsonian Information Center and double-check the time,” Violet said. “The Discovery Room is only open a couple of hours a day.” Violet hurried down the hall to Mrs. Parsons’s front desk. She sat down, and was reaching for the phone book, when Peter Marshall appeared.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked angrily. “Get out of that seat right away!”
“I’m sorry.” Violet’s face was flaming. She quickly stood up and walked around the counter. “I needed to make a phone call, and I didn’t think — ”
“I don’t care what you thought,” Peter interrupted rudely. “This isn’t your desk, and you had no business sitting here.” He brushed past her, hurled himself into the chair, and adjusted his glasses.
Violet stood rooted to the spot, too shocked to move. “If you want to make a call, use the phone in the kitchen,” he added, glaring at her.
What’s wrong with him? Violet wondered, as she scurried down the hall. Peter had always been so friendly and helpful. Today he was acting like a monster!
“Have fun today,” Mrs. Parsons said when the Aldens left half an hour later. Jessie thought she looked sad. She hoped there wouldn’t be any more thefts while they were out.
As soon as they stepped outside, Henry was cornered by Mrs. Wentworth, who was armed with a guidebook and an umbrella. “I want to ask you something, young man,” she said, drawing him aside. He waited politely on the front steps, while the others moved on down the street.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I was wondering how much Mrs. Parsons was charging your grandfather for the four of you. Does she give you a discount because you’re renting two rooms, or does she charge the full amount?”
The questions caught him off guard. “I … I have no idea,” he said, embarrassed. Why did she want to know what Grandfather was paying?
“Oh, come on, now,” she said in a wheedling tone. “You can tell me.” She eyed him shrewdly.
Henry straightened up and returned her stare. “I honestly don’t know, ma’am. Maybe you should ask Mrs. Parsons about her rates.”
“Humph!” Mrs. Wentworth said disgustedly. “Fat chance she’d tell me anything.” She glanced up at the attractive brick house.
“You know, a person could make a pretty penny from this place, if they were smart about it.”
“I guess so, ma’am,” Henry said. He eyed the others, who were waiting for him at the stoplight.
“Oh, go on, don’t let me keep you,” Mrs. Wentworth said, dismissing him.
Half an hour later, the children gathered in front of a stuffed, eight-ton African bull elephant in the Museum of Natural History.
“Wow — this is going to be my most favorite place of all!” Benny squealed. He looked around the lobby, his eyes darting over the colorful flags that listed all the collections. Where would they start? Everything looked like fun!
“Dinosaurs, Minerals and Gems, Fossils, Sea Life …” Amira said breathlessly. “We could spend all day in here.”
“Let’s start with this elephant,” Henry suggested. He picked up what looked like a phone receiver and handed it to Benny.
“I don’t want to call anybody,” Benny objected.
“It’s not a phone,” Henry said with a laugh. “It’s a recording.”
Benny put the receiver to his ear and jumped when a deep roar blasted out. “It’s the elephant!” he said, gazing up at the gigantic animal. He listened intently while everyone watched. “And now they’re telling what he liked to eat. Three hundred pounds of grass and plants every day — and he drank fifty gallons of water!”
“And you know something else?” Amira said, reading a plaque. “It took him eighteen hours to do it!”
A couple of hours later, Jessie and Violet collapsed on a bench in the middle of the insect zoo.
“This is fun, but I’m pooped,” Violet said, rubbing her feet.
“I’m ready for a break, too,” Jessie agreed. “Benny never seems to run out of energy, does he?” She glanced over at her younger brother, who was happily leading Amira toward a cage holding a live tarantula.
“It’s feeding time for the scorpion,” Henry said, sitting down next to them. “Anyone interested?”
Jessie shuddered. “I think we’ll pass on that.”
“I’m glad I have a few minutes to talk to you alone.” Henry lowered his voice and looked serious. “Something happened earlier that I think you should know about.” He quickly told them about his conversation with Mrs. Wentworth.
“But what did she mean?” Violet asked.
Henry shook his head. “I don’t know. She just said you could make a pretty penny from Mrs. Parsons’ place.”
“Maybe she means you could make money by stealing,” Jessie said softly. “Look at all the things that are missing from there!”
“But Mrs. Wentworth lost something herself — her brooch, remember?”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Violet objected. “She could have pretended it was missing, just to take attention away from herself.”
Suddenly Benny appeared and plunked down next to them.
“Where’s Amira?” Henry asked.
“She’s buying postcards,” Benny said. “She said she’ll be right back.”
“I don’t think the thief is Mrs. Wentworth,” Violet went on. “It could easily be John Sudderth. There’s something suspicious about him.”
“He didn’t know anything about art when he was in the National Gallery,” Henry recalled. “And he had a bunch of envelopes with astronaut stamps on them — the kind that Mrs. Parsons said were missing.”
“There’s something else,” Violet said quietly. “I never told you this, but I saw him standing in someone else’s room the other day. Room six.”
“Was he stealing something?” Benny blurted out.
“I don’t think so,” Violet admitted. “I think he was just looking around.”
“Room six!” Jessie said suddenly. “Those are the people who lost their travelers checks.”
“Yes, but they found them, remember?” Henry pointed out. “What about Peter Marshall?” Violet said. “He acted really strange today. He was furious that I was sitting at Mrs. Parsons’ desk.”
“I wonder why?” Jessie said thoughtfully.
Violet shook her head. “I have no idea. He seemed upset that Mrs. Wentworth’s brooch wasn’t valuable. He said he thought those old cameos were worth a lot of money.”
“He said cameo?” Henry leaned forward. “Are you sure he used that word?”
Violet frowned, trying to remember. “I think he did. Does it matter?”
“It’s very important,” Henry said. “A cameo is a special kind of brooch. He wouldn’t know it was a cameo unless he was the one who stole it.”
“Maybe Mrs. Wentworth called it that, and he overheard her,” Jessie said.
“That’s a good point,” Henry admitted. “And the Cooleys — they seem a little suspicious, don’t they?”
“They can’t even load a camera!” Jessie said. “How can they be photographers?”
“I wondered about that, too,” Violet said. “They acted like they were too busy to help me that day, but I think it was more than that.”
“They didn’t even know whether they developed their own film or not,” Henry added.
For a moment, no one said anything, and then Jessie said shyly, “I really hate to say this, but what do you think about Amira?”
“I like her!” Benny piped up.
“I know you like her, Benny, we all do.” Henry lowered his voice. “But we have to face facts. We don’t really know muc
h about her. Maybe she’s the one being followed by the men in sunglasses.” He paused. “I can’t believe that Amira is a thief, but until we know for sure, we have to suspect everyone.”
“But — ” Benny started to object, but Henry put his finger up to his lips. “Everyone,” he repeated. “We have to suspect everyone. Let’s all remember that.”
CHAPTER 9
Thieves in the Night
“I’m afraid there’s been another theft,” Mrs. Parsons said the following day at breakfast.
“What’s missing?” Henry asked. The Aldens and Amira were alone with Mrs. Parsons in the dining room. All the other guests had left to go sightseeing.
“My good china plate,” Mrs. Parsons said sadly. “The blue and white one that hung in the lobby. It was hand-painted and went all the way back to the time of Thomas Jefferson.”
“I remember it,” Violet said softly. “It was pretty.”
“When was it taken?” Jessie asked.
“I’m not exactly sure.” Mrs. Parsons sat down next to her and poured a cup of coffee. “It was missing this morning, when I opened the front office. But it could have been stolen last night. The reception area was dark when I locked up, and I might not have noticed that it was gone.”
“Was it very valuable?” Amira asked.
Mrs. Parsons nodded. “Unfortunately, it was.” She glanced at the antique china cupboard next to the window. “You know, I should probably do something about that pair of candlesticks. They’re solid pewter — a thief would love to get his hands on them.”
“You should hide them somewhere,” Jessie said.
“But where? She can’t use the safe,” Violet pointed out.
“You’re right, Violet,” Mrs. Parsons agreed. “But I could put them someplace where no one would ever think of looking.”
“Where would that be?” Benny scratched his head.
The Mystery in Washington, D.C. Page 4