Mystery of the Runaway Ghost (6 page)

Henry looked puzzled. “I did?” He checked his numbers again.

“You forgot the man — or woman — who met them!” Benny said.

Henry smiled at his little brother. “Good thinking, Benny,” he said. “So that makes it two thousand, eight hundred and
two
.”

“That’s our next clue?” Jessie couldn’t believe it.

“I guess we didn’t find the third riddle after all.” Violet sighed. “That one’s just silly. Looks like we’re on the wrong track again.”

“Never mind,” Henry said as they headed up the stairs to bed. “It was a good try.”

Benny, who was a few steps ahead, suddenly stopped and turned. “Hear that?” he whispered. His eyes were huge.

“Hear what, Benny?” asked Henry.

Clang, clang. Clang, clang, clang.

This time they all heard it. The sound seemed to be coming from outside. It would stop, only to start again a moment later.

“It’s Buttercup!” whispered Benny, sounding anxious.

Henry wasn’t having any of that. “We can’t be sure that was even a cowbell, Benny,” he said as he hurried back downstairs and into the living room. The others followed close behind. They all huddled around and peered out the window into the moonlit garden.

Clang, clang. Clang, clang, clang.

“Oh, that
is
a cowbell!” cried Violet. “And it’s the exact same clanging I heard last night!” She quickly told the others about the old cowbell at Roback’s Antique Shop.

“That made the same sound, too,” she said firmly.

“Even so, Violet,” Henry said after a moment’s thought, “that doesn’t mean there’s a
ghost
cow out there.”

“I asked Cora if stray cows ever wander into town,” Violet informed them. “She said she’s never heard of it.”

Clang, clang. Clang, clang, clang.

“Well,
somebody
’s ringing that bell,” Jessie pointed out.

“There’s only one way to find out who.” Henry squared his shoulders and headed out of the room. The other Aldens followed at his heels.

The four children opened and closed the front door behind them quietly. Henry and Jessie were in the lead as they started across the grass; Violet and Benny followed close behind. All of a sudden, Henry stopped so quickly that Jessie almost ran right into him.

Clang, clang. Clang, clang, clang.

“Uh-oh,” said Benny, backing up. His heart was pounding.

Henry pointed. Was that a shadow moving across the yard? “Who’s there?” he called out.

The shadowy figure disappeared into the inky darkness of the bushes. The Aldens ran into the bushes, too, but it was too late. It was almost as if the shadowy figure had vanished into thin air.

“I sure wish we had a flashlight,” Henry said, as he looked around.

“It’s too late now, Henry,” Violet told him breathlessly.

As they started back to the house, Benny moved closer to Jessie. She put a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Whoever was ringing that bell is long gone,” she assured him.

“Do you think anybody else heard the bell?” Benny wondered, as they had a late-night meeting in the room that Violet and Jessie were sharing.

“Maybe, Benny,” said Jessie, “but I doubt it. Fran said she was a sound sleeper.”

Henry nodded. “And Lottie seemed very tired.”

“I just can’t understand somebody pulling a prank like that.” Violet couldn’t stop shaking her head. “Who would do such a thing?”

Henry had a thought. “What about Nelson?” When he saw the look of surprise on everyone’s face, he added, “Maybe he thinks it’s the only way to get Fran to sell her house.”

“By convincing her that Shadowbox really
is
haunted?” Jessie shot her older brother a disbelieving glance. “By a
cow
?”

“It’s possible,” said Henry.

“I can’t imagine Nelson doing anything so awful to his mother,” argued Violet.

Jessie had an opinion about this. “Maybe he’s trying to scare
us
away.”

“That’s an interesting theory, Jessie,” said Henry. “But the only reason he would try to scare us is to keep us from solving the mystery.”

“Well, he wasn’t very happy about us helping with it,” Jessie pointed out. “Maybe he wants to solve the mystery himself.”

That made sense to Henry. “Nelson
does
think money is important. At least, that’s what Fran said. Maybe he’s hoping to keep the treasure for himself.”

“You know,” said Violet, “Nelson isn’t the only suspect.”

The others turned to her, puzzled.

“I think we should include Cora Roback on our list.”

Benny looked confused. “But, Violet, Cora thinks the whole idea of a ghost cow is silly.”

“Maybe she’s trying to prove that to Fran,” Violet suggested. She was sitting on the window seat with her arms around her knees.

The others had to admit that was possible. Didn’t Cora think all the other sightings had been staged? Maybe she was trying to convince Fran the ghost was a fake by showing her how easy it would be to fool people.

“And she owns an antique store,” added Jessie. “So it would be easy for her to get hold of an old cowbell.”

“It’d be easy for anyone to get hold of a cowbell,” Henry pointed out. “Cedarburg is overflowing with antique stores.”

“I still think Lottie is behind everything,” insisted Benny. “I bet she’s trying to scare us away so
she
can beat us to the treasure.”

“You might be right, Benny,” Jessie said. “She does need money for school in the fall.”

“And she never lets anyone see what she’s painting,” added Benny. “What’s that all about?”

“Maybe she’s shy about her work,” offered Violet.

Jessie frowned. She thought there was more to it than that, but she didn’t say anything.

“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.

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.”