Deserted Library Mystery (8 page)

CHAPTER 13

Face to Face with the Stranger

“Y
ou're right, Benny,” Jessie said in a shaky voice, pointing to a lean man at the counter.

Henry glanced at the tall man hunched over the counter and shrugged. “What's wrong, Jessie?”

“H-He's humming.”

“So?” Henry said.

“He's humming that awful tune that I heard the night I went to the pump,” she said softly.

“You can't accuse a man for humming. You have to be sure, Jessie.” Henry studied the unshaven man thoughtfully.

Fortunately the man didn't notice them. He was too busy reading the menu.

Violet, too, examined the man from head to foot. “I don't know,” she said, remembering her encounter with the figure that had dived into the shrubbery. “I thought he was shorter.”

“It's hard to tell,” Henry answered, “when he's sitting down.”

The lean man stirred his coffee, still humming the eerie tune. He didn't seem to care who was around him.

Jessie's eyes grew big, horrified at being so close to the stranger. “I-I'm sure!” she stammered. “I'll never forget that funny off-key melody! It's too weird. He's the one.”

Henry gave her a sharp look. “Are you positive?”

Jessie stared at the man, nodding slowly. “I'm positive!”

“Then, we'd better phone the sheriff,” he said quietly. He hurried to the table where Pete was sitting with his grandfather.

“Grandfather,” Henry said, keeping an eye on the lean man drinking coffee. “Jessie says that's the man she heard at the pump. Should you call the sheriff?” Again Henry glanced at the stranger.

“Your grandfather told me all about the prowler and his humming,” Pete said. “No need to call the sheriff, though.” He chuckled. “Bill Connors comes in here at ten-thirty every day for coffee.” He tilted his head in the direction of the sheriff. “That's Bill at the table next to the window.”

Henry turned to his grandfather. “We're certain that man at the counter is the intruder,” he said in a low voice.

“You are?” Grandfather asked, talking in a low voice. “You mustn't make a mistake.”

“I'm sure,” Henry said urgently.

“How do you know?” Grandfather questioned.

“That man is humming the same tune that Jessie heard at Pete's house.” Henry's tone was urgent.

“Henry, you could be a detective,” Grandfather said proudly.

Henry said, shaking his head, “It was Benny who spotted him.”

“Jessie, go talk to the sheriff,” Grandfather said, turning to find Jessie.

But Jessie had already hurried to the sheriff's side and sat across from him. “Sir,” she began, “I'm Jessie Alden and we . . .”

The pleasant, round-faced man half turned to face Jessie. “Pete told me all about you kids. You're staying at his house, aren't you?” The smiling man took another bite of his doughnut.

Jessie hurriedly told him about the humming prowler.

“Don't worry,” he said easily, “we'll catch the man who bothered you!”

“He's sitting at the end of the counter,” Jessie said quickly.

Sheriff Connors gave the stranger a sideways glance. “Why, that's Jake Morris. He lives in town and everyone knows him. Jake's a harmless fellow. You must be mistaken. What makes you think he's the one?” He gave Jessie a doubtful look.

“I heard him humming the tune that he was humming when I went to the pump one night. He was watching our house!” Jessie bit her underlip, afraid the man would get away. Why didn't the sheriff do something! Her heart began to pound.

“Now, I can't arrest everyone who hums a certain tune,” the sheriff said with a grin. “Besides, I don't hear him humming.”

Jessie glanced at the stranger. Sure enough, he'd stopped. Jessie impatiently tapped her fingers on the tabletop.

When the sheriff noticed how worried she was, he continued in a soothing voice, “Don't you worry, Jessie. We'll catch the man who tried to rob you.”

“He's the one. I'm positive!” Jessie exclaimed. “Please, hurry!”

The sheriff shook his head. “Relax! I'm not arresting anyone because they're humming a tune!”

In despair, Jessie twisted around. She looked at Henry and shook her head. Again she turned and studied the man at the far end of the counter. If only there were something to prove he was the intruder!

Henry was still standing beside Grandfather and Pete when all at once his eyes narrowed. There was no doubt about it—Jessie was right! That man was the guilty one! Out of the man's back pocket jutted a gray work glove. The very glove that matched the one he had found in the library! He pulled it from his pocket. “Sheriff!” Henry said grimly. “See this glove?” Triumphantly, he held it before the sheriff's eyes.

The sheriff grunted. “I see it.”

“It matches the one that man has in his pocket!” Henry slapped the glove back and forth in his hands. “Sheriff, this glove was found on a shelf in the library! The prowler wore it when he handled the books in his hunt for the sword.”

The sheriff's eyes widened. “Is that so?” Gently he placed his doughnut back on the plate and stood.

The thin-faced man glanced at the sheriff.

The sheriff stood up and hitched up his belt and holster. He moved toward the man. “Hello, Jake,” he said in a friendly tone. “What are you . . . ?”

Jake's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Jessie, Violet, Henry, and Benny. Immediately he jumped up and dashed into the men's room.

Henry whirled about, and along with the sheriff he rushed at the door, but when Sheriff Connors tried the knob, it was locked!

Benny cried, “He's gone!”

“Not by a long shot,” the sheriff yelled. Putting his shoulder to the door, he heaved against it with all his might. The door splintered, but remained shut.

Henry shouted, “He'll go out the back!”

“There's only a high window,” Pete said reassuringly.

The sheriff looked at Pete, and Pete looked at the sheriff.

The plump sheriff raced to the front door, but in a flash, Henry was outside ahead of him. Henry's thoughts raced along with his legs. If the stranger got to his car, he'd escape for sure.

When Henry reached the back of the café, sure enough, the man had crawled out the small high window and was clinging to the windowsill, his long legs dangling in midair. He was about to drop to the ground and escape! Henry realized he had to stop him any way that he could! He dived for the man's legs, wrapping his arms about his ankles and holding on tight! “I've got him!” he yelled.

Huffing and puffing, the sheriff finally appeared around the corner. “Let him go, lad,” he commanded.

By this time Benny and the others had arrived. “You caught the mean man!” Benny shouted. “Good, Henry!”

Henry let go of the man's legs, and Jake released his hold on the sill, dropping to the ground. He glared at Henry. “You!” he snarled. His eyes glittered as he glanced at each Alden. “You all meddled in things that don't concern you!”

Jessie shuddered, glancing at the man's bony long fingers. “I'm glad you caught him,” she murmured.

“You bet I have,” the sheriff said grimly. “Jake, I can't believe this. But it must be true. Mike Johnson mentioned someone humming before he switched on the light in his jewelry store the night he was robbed.”

Jake glared at the sheriff and shifted uneasily.

Sheriff Connors nodded knowingly. “We'll find out, Jake, if you're the one who's been stealing things around here. A valuable musket and an old dagger from Lamont's Antique Store were stolen, too.” He took a breath. “And you must have been the one who robbed Mrs. Tate of her diamond ring!” He scratched his head. “And, by golly, you must have stolen the antique maps from Tom Davis's map and coin shop. And the set of gold coins he had! Why, if you're the one, and I think you are, every store owner will be tickled pink that you're behind bars.”

“Hah!” the thin-faced man had a guilty look in his close-set eyes. He knew he'd been found out. “If it hadn't been for these four kids,” he snarled, “I could have gotten my hands on a Civil War sword!”

“How did you know about the sword?” Jessie asked. “We didn't tell a soul.”

Jake laughed. “You told one person.” He motioned toward Henry. “He told your grandfather on the phone. I was in a booth here and I overheard him.”

“I never even noticed you,” Henry said.

“Move, Jake!” Sheriff Connors ordered, giving him a shove. “We're taking a ride to the county station. Won't the boys be surprised to see you?”

With his hands in the air, Jake walked to the squad car, the sheriff in back of him. Before he got in, he gave the Aldens a dark scowl.

“Whew,” Benny said, mopping his forehead. “I'm glad we caught him. He could have stolen our sword and kept it for himself!”

“You're right, Benny.” Violet laughed, throwing an arm about Benny's shoulder. “That sword belongs in a museum. For everyone!”

“The milk and cookies are on me!” Pete said in a loud voice.

Happily everyone followed Pete back into the café. The stranger was going to jail, and they were safe at last!

Benny's round face lit up when he saw the big chocolate cookies and the cold, frothy milk. “My heart was beating fast when we caught that mean man! It made me hungry!”

Everyone laughed and finished the treat.

Miguel and his father soon stood up to leave.

“Thank you for everything,” Pedro Morales said warmly.

“Yes,” echoed Miguel. “Thank you.” His dark eyes sparkled as he smiled at everyone.

“Mr. Morales,” Grandfather asked, “what will you do without a fishing boat?”

Pedro shrugged. “I have my son. I don't need anything else!”

“We'll all stay one more day,” Grandfather Alden said firmly. “Tomorrow I want you to meet me at the boatyard at two o'clock. You are to pick out the best fishing boat afloat!”

Pedro smiled, which lit up his weather-beaten face. “How can I repay you?”

“Bring us some fish once in awhile,” Grandfather answered with a smile.

“Yes,” Benny said loudly. “And lobsters, too.”

“Every week!” Pedro promised. He left with his arm around Miguel.

The next morning Grandfather and his grandchildren drove to the boatyard. Pedro and Miguel were standing by a large boat, waiting for them.

“Hi!” Benny yelled, racing toward Miguel. “I'll help you choose a boat!”

Miguel grinned. He was lucky to have such wonderful friends.

Row after row of boats surrounded them. Big boats, small boats, fishing boats, speed boats, row boats, and sailboats.

Grandfather, his arms folded, leaned against a blue and white yacht. His eyes twinkled. “Have you picked out a boat, Mr. Morales?” he asked.

Pedro smiled shyly. “No, Mr. Alden,” he responded. “That's up to you.”

Benny dashed toward a large gray boat with clean long lines. “This one!” he shouted.

Grandfather raised an eyebrow. “What do you think, Mr. Morales?”

Pedro ran his fingers over the smooth surface. “It's a beauty. Benny has chosen the best boat on the lot.”

“Then it's settled,” Grandfather said, placing a hand on Pedro's shoulder. He motioned to the salesman and completed the sale.

With tears in his eyes, Pedro heartily shook Grandfather's hand. “I'll never forget you.”

Jessie and Violet hugged Miguel, and the slender boy gazed at them for a moment, then turned away with his father.

Pedro and Miguel stopped once at the entrance and waved, and then they were gone.

“I'll miss Miguel,” Benny said sadly.

“We all will,” Violet said softly.

Without a word they joined Grandfather and went home.

The next week, Grandfather Alden convinced the City Council that the library should be saved and, because of its age and the hidden sword, be given landmark status.

Several months later, he took his grandchildren on a trip to Boston to visit the Boston Museum. Displayed in a beautiful glass case was their Civil War sword. It no longer was in rusty pieces but in one long blade.

The blade shimmered. Nearby was the letter from General Meade.

“We found the sword,” Violet said proudly.

“Yes,” Jessie said. “We found an American treasure. That's one of the best things we've ever done!”

“No,” Benny piped up. “The best thing was helping Miguel and his father.”

They laughed, knowing that Benny was right!

And they left the museum feeling warm and good. Not, however, because they'd saved a library and discovered a Civil War sword, but because they'd helped someone as nice as Miguel and his father.

About the Author

G
ERTRUDE
C
HANDLER
W
ARNER
discovered when she was teaching that many readers who like an exciting story could find no books that were both easy and fun to read. She decided to try to meet this need, and her first book,
The Boxcar Children,
quickly proved she had succeeded.