“They could have been talking about anything,” Henry pointed out.
“I suppose,” Jessie said. “But … I don’t know. I just have a feeling that he could be involved somehow. Just a hunch.”
“Why don’t we go to Lessenger’s Music Store and pick up Karen’s guitar strings?” said Henry. “Maybe Tim will be there.”
“Good idea,” said Violet.
“I second that,” said Karen, fishing money out of her purse to pay for the guitar strings. She handed the bills to Jessie. “Good luck,” she said.
Lessenger’s was an exciting place if you loved music. One room had nothing but drums and cymbals, another had brass horns like trumpets and trombones. There was a room only for guitars, and another for recording equipment. And there was always music playing in the store—not just from the speakers in the ceiling, but from shoppers trying out instruments.
The children didn’t see Tim or Mr. Lessenger when they first walked in, but it didn’t take long to find them. They heard Mr. Lessenger’s voice coming from the guitar room—and they were surprised at how angry he sounded.
“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times: do not buy a used instrument unless I see it first!”
The Aldens went over to the doorway Behind the counter, Mr. Lessenger stood and scolded Tim.
“I know,” Tim said sheepishly, “and I’m sorry. It just seemed like such a good deal.”
“That’s exactly why you should have been suspicious!” Mr. Lessenger replied. “A deal that seems too good to be true usually is! Now the store is out three hundred dollars!” he went on. “If this happens again, Tim …” He sighed. “Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Tim answered.
Mr. Lessenger disappeared into his office, closing the door with a slam.
Tim stood there for a moment, looking upset. Then he spotted the Aldens and tried his best to put on a smile.
“Hi, can I help you with something?”
The Aldens weren’t sure what to do or say, either. That had been such a nasty scene!
Jessie finally said, “Uh, you’re Tim, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, Tim the fool. That’s my full name. Do I know you?”
“Don’t you remember us from the festival this morning?” Jessie asked. “You helped us set up the Instrument Petting Zoo.”
“Oh, sure, I remember. What’s up? Did I do something wrong over there, too?”
“Oh,” Jessie said quickly. “We were just wondering—we noticed you were talking to a girl. She had a ponytail, very long.”
Tim gave out a little laugh. “Yeah, I bought a used keyboard from her. That’s why I just got yelled at.”
“Why would you get in trouble for that?” Henry asked. “You sell used instruments here, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Tim replied, “but this one was a little different—it was stolen.”
“Stolen!” Jessie said. “How do you know?”
“Here, I’ll show you,” Tim said. He disappeared into a back room and returned a moment later with the keyboard in his arms.
It was long, black, and very heavy with knobs and buttons above the keys.
“See this?” Tim said. He pointed to a spot at the back. Henry carefully turned the keyboard around. And there, right by the button that turned it on and off, was a name scratched into the metal—“Amy Keller.”
“Oh my goodness!” Violet said. “This belongs to the Greenfield Four! It’s one of the missing instruments!”
“Yeah,” Tim said, nodding and looking very unhappy. “I didn’t know their stuff had been stolen until Mr. Lessenger told me.”
“And you bought it from that girl?” Jessie asked. “The one with the long ponytail?”
“That’s right,” Tim said. “She wanted to know if I was interested in buying a great keyboard really cheap.”
“If it seemed like such a good deal, then why didn’t you tell Mr. Lessenger about it first?” Henry asked.
Tim paused before speaking. He suddenly seemed uneasy.
“Because,” he said, “I had my own reasons for buying it from her, too. She was wearing a Glenwood Studios shirt, and she said she worked there. My buddies and I have a band, but we can’t afford to go there and record our music. So she and I made a little deal—I would buy the keyboard from her, and she would let us use the studio for free for a few weeks when no one else was in there.” He shook his head. “Like I said, it seemed like such a great deal. We could’ve sold this for seven or eight hundred dollars. I thought Mr. Lessenger would be thrilled.”
“I wonder if this girl has any of the other stolen instruments,” Henry said.
“Do you think she’s the one who stole the instruments in the first place?” Jessie wondered.
Tim spoke up. “I doubt it. I don’t know her very well, but she’s come into the store before. Her name is Zoey.”
“If the thief sold the instruments to a total stranger, then no one would know they were stolen to begin with,” Henry pointed out. “It doesn’t sound like Zoey is the thief.”
Tim agreed. “I bet she’d be just as surprised as I was to find out the keyboard was stolen.” He added, “My boss is calling the police right now to tell them one of the stolen instruments turned up. I’m sure they’ll want to talk to her soon.”
So do we, thought Jessie.
CHAPTER 6
The Girl with the Ponytail
“Jessie, tell us again why you think we should talk to Zoey,” Henry said, as he and Violet and Benny followed their sister out of the public library. Jessie had insisted they look up the address of Glenwood Studios in the local business directory.
“Because the studio is just two blocks away from here,” she said. “And I’m sure the police will get to the bottom of all this soon enough, but …”
“But what?” said Violet.
“But I keep getting this feeling that the person who stole all these instruments is right under our noses somehow,” Jessie said.
“I know what you mean,” said Henry.
“Me too,” Violet added.
“Me three,” said Benny.
“And what’s more,” Jessie went on, “I don’t think this is just a case of someone stealing things to make money. Someone is trying to really hurt the Greenfield Four and ruin their show at the festival tomorrow.”
“I wish we knew why,” said Violet.
“Exactly,” said Jessie. “And what if we’re close to finding out?”
“Let’s talk to Zoey!” Benny exclaimed.
Glenwood Studios was a small building with a tiny parking lot next to it. Inside, the lobby was decorated with framed photos of musicians who had recorded here. A young man was sitting at the front desk, wearing a GLENWOOD STUDIOS T-shirt.
“Is Zoey here?” she asked the young man.
“Studio A,” he said, pointing to the right.
As the children walked down the hallway, they could hear a vacuum cleaner in one of the recording rooms. They peered in and found the girl with the long ponytail there. “That must be Zoey,” Jessie said.
Zoey didn’t notice them at first, and continued to vacuum the carpet as well as the walls, which were covered with a funny foam material.
“Why are the walls soft?” Benny asked.
“They help absorb noise,” replied Henry. “It helps the music sound better while it’s being recorded.”
“THEN WHY IS THAT VACUUM SO LOUD?” Benny shouted.
Just then, Zoey noticed the children and shut off the vacuum cleaner.
At first she seemed surprised, then she smiled and said, “Oh, hi. Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” Jessie said. “Actually, we wanted to talk to you.”
“To me?”
“Yes. Did you sell a used keyboard to Tim, the boy who works at Lessenger’s music store, earlier today?”
Suddenly Zoey seemed worried. “Yes, I did,” she said. “Is there a problem with it?”
�
��Well …” Jessie said. She and Henry told Zoey how the Greenfield Four’s rehearsal studio had been robbed. “They’re our friends,” Jessie said.
“Oh, no!” Zoey moaned, rolling her eyes. “I knew it!”
“Knew what?” Violet asked.
“I knew there had to be a catch!” she said. “Here, I’ll show you.”
The children followed her outside to the parking lot where her small red car was parked. She opened the trunk, and inside was a second keyboard. The Aldens recognized it immediately. They looked near the on/off switch and found the name “Amy Keller” again, scratched into the metal.
“I bought this keyboard this morning, along with the other one that I sold to Tim. I didn’t need two, so I figured I’d sell one. I made enough money selling the first one to pay for both of them, so I sort of got this one for free.” She sighed. “Or so I thought. I guess I’ll have to give the money back to Lessenger’s and give both keyboards to the Greenfield Four.”
“Who sold the keyboards to you?” Jessie asked.
“I didn’t get his name,” Zoey said, taking a deep breath, “but here’s what happened. I pulled into the parking lot this morning, and a van pulled in behind me. A man got out and started talking to me. I normally don’t talk to strangers, but he seemed to know Glenn, my boss, so I figured he was okay. Anyway, he wanted to know if I wanted to buy some instruments—cheap. He opened the back of the van, and there were the two keyboards.”
“Were there any other instruments inside?” Henry asked.
“Yes,” Zoey said, “some guitars and other things. He said he was giving up music and moving out west, and he wanted to sell his equipment to raise money for the trip. I took the keyboards inside, plugged them in, and they both worked great. So I gave him the money, and off he went.”
“What did he look like?” Jessie asked.
“He was tall and thin. He had very dark hair, and a beard and mustache. He was also wearing glasses.”
“Hmm,” Henry said. “That could be a lot of people. Anything else?”
“Well, the van he was driving was white,” Zoey replied. “And it had a big blue stripe running across the sides. It was all beat-up, too. Kind of old.”
Jessie was carefully writing down Zoey’s description on a spare page in Violet’s sketchbook. Beard and mustache, glasses, white van—it wasn’t much to go on. Was it someone the children had seen working at the festival? Jessie tried to remember. Maybe this person isn't right under our noses after all, she thought. Was there anything else she could ask Zoey?
“What was the man wearing?” she asked.
“Oh, my goodness, I almost forgot!” said Zoey. “He was wearing a beret. One of those funny little hats that artists wear.”
Jessie nodded excitedly and looked at Henry. They were both sure they’d seen someone wearing a beret recently. But who?
“I’m glad you asked me,” Zoey went on. “I guess I don’t tend to imagine hats on people, because so few people wear them. But I did notice the beret. And I’m definitely going to remember it when I call the police and tell them what I know. In fact, I’d better do that now.” She reached for her cell phone.
“That’s a good idea,” Henry said. “And thank you for talking to us, too.”
Zoey waved good-bye to the children from the parking lot as they walked back to the street.
“I know we saw a man wearing a beret sometime today,” said Violet. “Was it at the festival?”
“I think so,” said Jessie. “But we saw a lot of people there.”
“Whoever the man in the beret is,” said Henry, “he certainly didn’t steal any of those instruments for the money.”
Jessie agreed. “He sold those keyboards for nearly nothing. He must have some other motive, which is—”
“—to ruin things for the Greenfield Four,” Violet finished.
Benny had been quiet all this time.
“What does a beret look like?” he asked finally. “Because that man we talked to this morning, the one with the beard—he had something funny on his head.”
The children stopped in their tracks.
“You mean, the man who was working around the stage?” Violet asked. She remembered how he’d stopped to admire the sign she’d painted.
“And then later we asked him if he’d seen Raymond,” Jessie said, remembering.
“He was friendly,” Henry noted. “But you know what’s odd? First he said he didn’t know who the Greenfield Four were. But then when we talked to him again, he knew Raymond was their roadie.”
“That is strange,” Jessie said. “Very strange. We ought to tell the band that this man might be the thief. We can tell the police, too! If only …” her voice trailed off. “If only we knew his name.”
The other children nodded sadly. There wasn’t much they could do without knowing the man’s name.
“Maybe the Greenfield Four will know who he is,” Violet said, hopeful. “We can describe him.”
“That’s true,” said Henry.
“Speaking of the Greenfield Four,” Benny thought of something. “What happened to their poster?”
He pointed to a nearby phone pole. The children could see that a poster had been torn off recently—only a few scraps at the corners remained. Even from the torn pieces they could tell it had been a poster for the Greenfield Four’s show at the festival. The children had helped design the poster, and they could recognize Violet’s artwork in the corners.
“Look! There’s another one,” Benny said as he spotted a second torn poster on the fence across the street. As the children continued down the street, they could see that nearly all the Greenfield Four’s posters had been torn down.
“What happened to them?” Violet wondered. “Did the band take them down because they aren’t going to be playing?”
“I hope not,” Jessie replied. “I hope they’re not giving up yet.”
“Maybe someone else did it,” Henry suggested. He was about to say something else as they turned the corner. Just then, though, they saw a van pull to the side of the road half a block ahead of them. Then a hand reached out, grabbed one of the posters from a telephone pole, and ripped it off. After that the driver hit the gas, and with screeching tires, the van disappeared.
“Did you see that?” Henry said.
“I sure did,” Jessie answered. “And did you see what the van looked like?”
“It was white,” Benny said, “with a blue stripe.”
“Just like the one Zoey told us about!” Violet said.
“That’s right,” Henry nodded. “I think that was our thief.”
CHAPTER 7
The Man with the Van
When the children returned to the Greenfield Four’s rehearsal studio, they told the band everything they’d found out.
“I’m glad my keyboards turned up,” said Amy. “But who is this man in the beret?”
The other members of the band shrugged. “We have no idea,” Karen said. “I suppose we’ll have to let the police figure it out from here.”
Later that afternoon the children went to the Greenfield Diner to meet Grandfather for dinner.
“When we told the band about the man with the beard and the beret, they said they had no idea who he was,” Jessie said.
“And aside from the keyboards,” Violet added, “everything else is still missing.”
“We told the police what he looked like,” Henry said. “Maybe that will help.”
“Perhaps it will,” Grandfather said.
The Aldens ate quietly for a few minutes. It was a busy night at the diner, filled with good smells and the sound of people talking. Whenever the Aldens came here, they always sat in the same place—a large booth by the front. It was quiet and cozy. One of the things Benny liked about it was that it was right by a big window. He could see everything that was happening on Greenfield’s main street.
He got up on his knees to look outside. He was chewing on another chicken finger when he noticed a van
parked across the street. He stopped chewing. He remembered what Zoey had said about the van the thief was driving.
“Look!” Benny said. “A van! A white one with a blue stripe!”
Everyone, including Grandfather, got up to see.
“Oh my goodness, Benny’s right!” Violet said. “That’s exactly like the one we saw!”
“Did you see anyone get in or out of it, Benny?” Henry asked.
“No, no one,” Benny said.
Grandfather paid the check quickly, and soon the Aldens headed outside to look over the van.
Benny was right—it looked just like the one they saw earlier. It was white, with a thick blue stripe down each side, and it was dirty, dented, and rusty.
“I’m going to take a look in the window,” Henry said. Carefully, he walked around to the back window and peered inside. He was hoping to see the Greenfield Four’s stolen instruments.
Instead, the back of the van was filled with wood and tools—saws, hammers, drills, and jars full of nails and screws.
“What’s in there?” Violet asked. “Any guitars?”
“No,” Henry replied, disappointed.
“Can I help you?” said a voice from behind them.
The Aldens turned to find a man about Grandfather’s age standing on the sidewalk. He was dressed in jeans, a plaid flannel shirt, and leather work boots. His clothes were covered sawdust. The children could tell that the man was a carpenter. He looked at them with a friendly but puzzled expression.
Grandfather stepped forward and shook the man’s hand and introduced the children.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Jessie said, “we didn’t mean to snoop.”
“We were looking for some musical instruments,” Violet added.
The carpenter smiled. “Ah, well, I used to play a harmonica pretty well when I was your age, but that’s about it.”
“No, sir, we were looking for some stolen instruments,” Henry replied. He and the other children explained everything that had happened so far.
“And the thief was driving a van exactly like this one,” said Jessie. “Just our luck that there are two of them.”
Rock 'n' Roll Mystery Page 3