Animal Shelter Mystery

by Gertrude Chandler Warner

  When the Aldens met Miss Thompson in the capital lobby at twenty to twelve, she didn’t know a thing about the three men. “I’m sorry, James,” she said to Mr. Alden. “There’ve been hundreds of people going through the lobby all morning. I can’t say I noticed three suspicious men in all these crowds. But that does give us even more reason to hurry! It’s nearly closing time.”

  Everyone raced behind Miss Thompson up three flights of marble stairs. As they climbed flight after flight, the Aldens told Miss Thompson the whole story about finding the deed in the old notebooks.

  “Do you think you can help us?” Jessie asked when they finally reached the Land Records Room.

  “If the deed is signed and stamped with the state seal, then all we need to do is make a copy and file it with Mr. Tully, the Land Records Clerk. Now don’t worry if he seems a bit gruff. He likes to keep a close watch on the documents in the Records Room. And he’s always a bit grumpy right before lunch.”

  “Me, too,” Benny said.

  Everyone’s laughter bounced off the marble walls and floors when they went into the Land Records Room. This did not please the annoyed-looking man who came over to the Aldens.

  “What can I do for you, Miss Thompson?” the man asked. “I hope it’s not too complicated. On Fridays, we lock up at twelve sharp, and it’s ten of already.”

  “This is the Alden family, and they’d like us to find information about a fifty-year-old deed they discovered in Greenfield.”

  “Greenfield? What in heaven’s name is going on in Greenfield?” Mr. Tully said in a loud voice. “Is someone putting up skyscrapers or something? Some employees of a demolition company were in just about an hour ago, asking about some Greenfield property, and I told ’em what I always tell ’em. They have to wait until Wednesday before their bid goes through, just in case a deed turns up by Tuesday. I sent them packing just like that pesky old woman who was here a few days ago, asking about the same darn land in Greenfield.”

  Henry stepped up to Mr. Tully. “Was it a Miss Newcombe?”

  Mr. Tully thought for a minute. “I don’t ask their names, young man, unless they have something official to show me. I can’t help anyone without a piece of paper, and all this woman had was a lot of old stories. Why, I’d never get a day’s work done if I spent time with these folks always coming in here with their stories.” Mr. Tully looked at the Aldens and Miss Thompson as if they were trespassing on his private property.

  “But we—” Jessie began.

  “The Aldens do have—” Miss Thompson started to say, but Mr. Tully wanted to set everyone straight.

  “This elderly woman seemed to think I could stop developers from building on some land she says might be hers. Why, I could say I owned the Grand Canyon, but without a deed, I certainly wouldn’t get too far, now would I?”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Violet said in a quiet but sure voice. “But we do have a deed, Mr. Tully.”

  “That’s quite impossible,” Mr. Tully said. “There was never a deed on that land, so it came to the state when the last owner of record died. Anybody can buy it once fifty years have passed after the owner’s death, and that anniversary is Tuesday, just four days from now. The Wolf Demolition Company has already put in a preliminary bid, and after that they can buy the land fair and square.” Mr. Tully paused and stared at the Aldens. “Unless, of course, someone shows up with a valid deed.”

  Henry stood tall. “You will find that this deed proves Miss Newcombe owns the land.”

  Mr. Tully raised an eyebrow. “Let me see that. Hmm. Hmm,” he kept saying as he read the old document.

  “Is this deed still good?” Henry asked.

  “Good as the day it was signed,” Mr. Tully said. “Now why this Jacob Kisco didn’t file it, I don’t know. Probably one of these old farmers who kept everything hidden under his mattress, I suppose, and didn’t tell anyone about it.”

  Benny just couldn’t stay still. “I found it, Mr. Tully, but not under a mattress. It was hidden in a book stuck between two boards in a toolshed.”

  Mr. Tully could hardly stand this. “There you go. A toolshed! Fifty years ago this capital was standing here same as now. Not to mention the Greenfield Town Hall. The old woman said there wasn’t a thing filed there, either. Too bad she didn’t check the toolshed! Well, here’s the proof she needed right here.”

  The Aldens jumped up and down. Jessie almost hugged Mr. Tully, but she hugged her grandfather instead.

  “The search paid off,” Mr. Alden said. “You know, Mr. Tully, I’ve never known my grandchildren to give up on finding what they wanted.”

  Mr. Tully coughed a few times to quiet everyone down. “I wouldn’t celebrate just yet,” he said gruffly.

  Jessie’s voice was squeaky. “Why can’t we celebrate?”

  “The name on this deed is Silas Newcombe,” Mr. Tully said. “That’s a man’s name, not the name of that woman. For all we know, Silas Newcombe could still be alive.”

  “It’s Miss Newcombe’s father,” Henry said. “He died a long time ago.”

  Mr. Tully’s face didn’t change. “Well, how does anyone know he left the property to the woman who was here the other day? She would have to produce a will saying that the property was left to her. No will, no land.”

  The Aldens’ hopes fell again. They not only didn’t have a will, they didn’t even have Miss Newcombe.

  “We'll talk to her,” Jessie said. She looked Mr. Tully in the eye. “And after we do, we’ll be back with her father’s will.”

  “You’ve only got until Tuesday, young lady,” Mr. Tully said. “Otherwise, that Wolf Demolition Company can buy the land.”

  Everyone left the Land Records Office quietly before Mr. Tully could give them any more bad news.

  “I’m sorry Mr. Tully wasn’t more polite,” Miss Thompson said. She put an arm around Jessie’s shoulder. “But the main thing is that the deed proves the property belongs to Miss Newcombe’s family. All you have to do is get the will from her. She must be back in Greenfield by now.”

  Henry spoke up. “If she even went back to Greenfield. You see, these men from the demolition company seem to have frightened her away. That’s what we think.”

  Miss Thompson stopped on the step where she was standing. “I see,” she said softly. “That is a problem. As Mr. Tully said, time is running out. On Wednesday, this deed won’t be any good. I’m afraid Mr. Tully is correct. The developers have a perfect right to buy the land from the state when the fifty-year anniversary of Jacob Kisco’s death has passed.”

  The Aldens didn’t speak the rest of the way down the winding stairs. No one had to. They were all thinking the same thing. Where was Miss Newcombe? She just had to be found.

  CHAPTER 8

  Lost and Found

  The Aldens spent the next two days searching everywhere in Greenfield for Miss Newcombe.

  On Monday, as everyone walked to the Greenfield Animal Shelter to help out and pick up supplies, Violet said, “Maybe she just didn’t come back from the capital after she talked to Mr. Tully. Surely someone in town would have seen her by now if she had returned.”

  Henry, Jessie, and Benny didn’t want to say out loud what they were thinking. Violet was probably right. Miss Newcombe didn’t know they had the deed to her land. Maybe she was too discouraged or frightened to return to Greenfield.

  Jessie spoke quietly. “I guess we’ll just have to tell Dr. Scott today that we haven’t had any luck so far.”

  They didn’t have to tell Dr. Scott anything. She could see by everyone’s faces they hadn’t found Miss Newcombe.

  “There’s still the rest of today,” Dr. Scott told Jessie, Violet, and Benny when they arrived at the shelter.

  But Dr. Scott was upset, too. While the Aldens had to find Miss Newcombe, Dr. Scott still hadn’t located the shelter’s founder. Like the Aldens, she had very little time left. The two weeks were almost up.

  Violet and Jessie spent the morning making phone calls to see if
anyone in Greenfield wanted to adopt any animals from the shelter.

  “We only found two homes,” Jessie told Dr. Scott when she came back later to check on their progress.

  “Why don’t you girls make the rest of the calls from home? I have some volunteers coming in this afternoon,” Dr. Scott told Jessie and Violet.

  Just then, Henry came by. They could see by his excited face that he had some news.

  “Mr. Knapp, the taxi driver, came into the store today,” he began. “He said Miss Newcombe came in on the train just this morning. He dropped her off at the gate to her house! Let’s go there right now.”

  “That’s wonderful news, Henry,” Dr. Scott said. She picked up the phone and dialed a number. After a long time, she hung up. “No answer. I thought I might find her home at last, but no one answered the phone.”

  “That’s not going to stop us,” Jessie said. “We’ll go to Miss Newcombe’s anyway.”

  “Good luck!” Dr. Scott said when the Aldens left the shelter. “Give me a call later on and let me know what happens.”

  The Aldens walked as quickly as they could to Fox Den Road. Henry broke into a run when they neared the Newcombe house. When the others caught up, they found Henry shaking the locked gate.

  “Open up! Open up!” he called through the bars.

  “It’s no use, Henry,” Jessie said. “No one’s there. The truck is gone. All the windows are closed.”

  “Did Mr. Knapp say if he drove Miss Newcombe right up to the house?” Violet asked. “Did he see her go inside?”

  Henry shook his head. “He told me she didn’t want to keep him waiting while she unlocked the gate. He drove off before she opened it.”

  Jessie looked down at the ground. “Maybe she never got inside the gate.”

  Everyone walked the rest of the way home without saying a word. This was the closest they’d come to finding Miss Newcombe. But they had missed her.

  Mrs. McGregor’s good chicken dinner and Grandfather’s encouraging words didn’t help the children feel any better. This looked like one mystery that the Aldens weren’t going to solve after all.

  After dinner, they went about their boxcar chores in silence. Jessie cleaned the cages while Violet moved the cats and dogs into the boxcar for the night. Benny checked that all the water dishes were filled so none of the strays would be thirsty during the night.

  Violet was especially sad. What had happened to Miss Newcombe? What would happen to her nice pets? How would they find homes for all the animals they had? All this worry kept Violet awake long after the rest of the family had fallen asleep.

  Suddenly she heard the long, low sound of a heavy door being pushed.

  “The boxcar!” she cried. She jumped from her bed and went to the window.

  The moon was high above the Aldens’ yard now. In the moonlight, Violet saw a gray-haired woman step inside the boxcar. “What is Mrs. McGregor doing out there this late?” she said to herself. She put on her robe, then tiptoed downstairs. Watch was at the back door, growling in a low voice.

  “No need to growl, Watch,” Violet whispered to the dog. “It’s just Mrs. McGregor.”

  In the moonlight Violet found her way easily to the boxcar. When she was about ten feet away, she could hear a dog’s tail thumping against the metal walls of the boxcar. All the dogs were yipping with excitement.

  Violet knew those sounds very well. They were not frightened or unhappy sounds. These were the same happy cries the animals made when the Aldens came to visit, pet, or feed them. Somebody they liked very much was in the boxcar!

  “Ah, Patches, you lovely, sweet thing,” someone was saying inside. “I knew this was the right place for you.”

  Lad made an eager yelp.

  “And you, too, Lad,” the voice continued.

  When Violet’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw a white-haired woman sitting down on an empty food crate. The woman was surrounded by Lad, the white dog, Patches, and a cat. They were all licking her and rubbing against her ankles.

  “Excuse me,” Violet said.

  The woman jumped. In the moonlight, Violet saw the woman’s eyes flash with fright.

  “I’m sorry,” Violet said softly. “I heard the door of the boxcar opening. I was worried about the animals.” Violet paused. She didn’t want to frighten the woman away by stepping inside.

  “It’s okay, Lad. Sit,” the woman said, taking the dog’s front paws off her lap.

  “Lad?” Violet asked. “You know this dog?”

  The woman stood up. She was hardly taller than Violet. She smoothed her dress and twisted a ring on her finger. “Many of the animals in here were mine,” she began. “I left them here in your safekeeping.”

  Violet waited a long time before she said anything. “Then you must be Miss Newcombe.”

  “Yes. Clara Newcombe. I heard about your love of animals from Dr. Scott. And I knew your grandfather’s family long ago. When I had to leave my animals, I knew they would have a good home here.”

  “You brought all these animals here?” Violet asked.

  The woman stroked Patches on her forehead. “Yes, I left Patches here a week and a half ago and the other animals at good homes around town, but some of them ran away and tried to get back home. Late the other night, I saw Lady wandering around Greenfield, so I brought her here, too. As for Lad and Midnight, the cat, I don’t know how they came to be here, but I’m glad they are. Lad and Lady are from the same litter.”

  Violet stroked Lad’s floppy ear. “At first we called him Fred. I mean the people who found him did. A woman and her little boy saw him wandering around in the parking lot of their apartment building. A farmer who says he knows you brought Midnight to the Greenfield Animal Shelter. We took her because the shelter has to close.”

  When Violet said that, the woman sat down. “Yes, the shelter. I know all about the shelter closing,” she said. She looked up at Violet. “That’s why I didn’t bring my animals there.”

  “You must come into our house,” Violet said gently. “It’s chilly out here.” Violet led the animals back to their cages and helped the woman down from the boxcar. “Don’t worry. Your pets are safe here tonight.”

  As they walked to the house, they saw the kitchen light go on. When Violet opened the back door, there was Henry, yawning and squinting. Not too far behind was a sleepy Jessie and a sleepy Benny. Mr. Alden, who did not look the least bit sleepy, had come downstairs, too. Watch, who often growled at strangers, did not growl at Miss Newcombe now. He seemed to like this woman without even knowing who she was.

  “This is Miss Newcombe. Miss Newcombe, these are my brothers, Henry and Benny. That’s Jessie. And, of course, you know who my grandfather is.”

  Mr. Alden pulled out a chair for Miss Newcombe. “Hello, Clara. It’s been many years.”

  The tired woman sank into the chair. “Yes, too many, James. I’ve kept to myself so long.”

  Jessie was at the sink filling the kettle. “Let me get you some tea,” she said.

  “Miss Newcombe came to see Patches and Lad,” Violet announced. “The new dog is called Lady, and she’s Lad’s sister.”

  Mr. Alden reached a hand out to Miss Newcombe. “My grandchildren have been searching for you for nearly two weeks. I know you like to keep to yourself, Clara, so perhaps you didn’t want to be found. But they may have some special news for you.”

  Benny opened his mouth to speak, but whatever words he was going to say turned into a big yawn.

  Jessie ran into the den and came back. In her hand was the farmer’s black notebook with the deed tucked inside. “Here,” she said, unfolding the yellowed paper. “Read this. We think this is an important piece of paper about your land.”

  The old woman looked less frightened now in the warm, well-lit kitchen. Who could be afraid of these kind faces?

  The woman read the paper once, then seemed to read it again. Finally she looked up at everyone. “You don’t know how important this deed is.”

&nb
sp; “Ah, but they do,” Mr. Alden said. “My grandchildren have been investigating some strange goings-on at your house. They have reason to believe a demolition company has got hold of your property. They intend to develop it if they can buy it for good when it comes up for sale tomorrow.”

  The woman nodded her head up and down. “How right they are. You see, years ago this property belonged to Jacob Kisco. Back then my father rented from him the house, the two barns, and some meadows for the price of the milk, eggs, butter, and cheese he got from our herd of cows. Mr. Kisco always said he had made arrangements to leave the land to our family when he died, but he never gave my father the deed.”

  Mr. Alden sat down at the table a few feet across from Miss Newcombe. “But everyone in Greenfield always thought the land belonged to your family, Clara.”

  Miss Newcombe lowered her eyes and twisted the lace handkerchief in her hands. She didn’t speak for a long time. When she finally did, her voice was shaky. “Yes, I know that’s what people thought. You see, my father only planned to stay on the property until the state came to claim it. But they never sent anyone, so Father stayed there. After he died, I stayed on, too.”

  “Miss Newcombe,” Henry said softly. “Was the Greenfield Animal Shelter part of Mr. Kisco’s land at the time that he died?”

  Miss Newcombe’s soft blue eyes looked frightened again, and she could hardly hold her cup of tea. “I guess I have to tell the other part of the story. You see, I felt so guilty about staying on land that probably belonged to the state, I offered the state use of some of the property when they wanted to open an animal shelter in these parts. At the same time, I wanted to protect my father’s good name, so I kept the Newcombe name out in case the truth ever came out.”

  “So you’re the founder!” Jessie cried out.

  “Yes, I am,” Miss Newcombe said. “I didn’t want to let anyone know because I worried that someone would take away the land someday. Now someone has.”

  Violet patted Miss Newcombe’s hand to make her feel better. Jessie refilled her cup.

  “I love animals, you know. I fully expected to make a bid on the land when fifty years had passed after Mr. Kisco’s death. But then these terrible men showed up.”