Mystery of the Secret Message (6 page)

“Who knows?” Henry shrugged. “Grandfather will bring the ballot box home and count the votes himself tomorrow night. And on Saturday, he’ll announce the result.”

“Grandfather is working awfully hard on the festival,” Benny said. “We haven’t seen him much all day.”

“That’s because he’s busy talking to people,” Henry explained. “It’s a big job, putting on this festival.”

“I’m glad we’re able to help,” said Violet. She plopped another bag in the carton on the floor.

“He’s been gone since dinner,” Jessie said, glancing at the clock. “I hope he doesn’t get home too late tonight.”

“You’ve kept Grandfather organized,” Henry said to her.

“Well, I write everything down,” Jessie said modestly. “And put it in the notebook.” Suddenly she clapped her hand over her mouth.

Violet looked at her in concern. “What is it, Jess? What’s wrong?”

“The festival notebook,” she whispered. “I left it in town!”

“It’ll be okay,” Henry assured her. “We’ll get it tomorrow.”

Jessie shook her head. “No. I can’t leave it there, Henry. The person who’s been wrecking the square might find it. He could use it to do more damage.”

Violet stared at Henry. “Jessie’s right. We can’t take that chance.”

“Let’s go get it,” Henry suggested.

“Grandfather’s not home yet,” Jessie said. “I hate to cause him more trouble.”

“I didn’t mean in the car,” Henry said. “You and I can ride our bikes. It won’t take long. Benny and Violet, you should stay here and let Mrs. McGregor know that we’ll be right back.”

Quickly, Henry and Jessie scrambled into their jackets and slipped out the back door.

Jessie was glad when they reached the lane leading into the town square. She parked her bike next to Henry’s.

“Where did you leave the notebook?” asked Henry.

“Behind the bench by the town hall,” Jessie replied, pulling her jacket tighter. A sharp wind had sprung up. “I put it there when Benny found Violet’s camera. Then, with all that talk about the hidden compartment in the statue, I forgot about it.”

“We’ll get it now and hurry home,” Henry said, heading across the pavement.

“It’s so quiet out here,” Jessie said, listening to the soft thud of her sneakers on the bricks.

The town square was lit by lampposts at all four corners. The tall, dark Minuteman statue was illuminated by a spotlight.

Then another, stronger light slashed across the square.

Henry stopped. “Someone’s there!” he whispered. “He has a flashlight!”

The light switched off abruptly, leaving the square shadowy.

Jessie saw the figure run away from the statue. It was a small person, with a flowing ponytail.

It looked like Dawn Wellington.

Q
uick!” Henry said, grabbing Jessie’s wrist, and the two flew across the pavement.

It was getting darker and the town hall cast a long, spooky shadow. At last they reached the bench.

Jessie’s tote bag containing her notebook was leaning against one wrought-iron leg. She snatched it up.

“I wonder if that person was looking for your notebook, too,” Henry said as they hurried toward the parking lot.

“I don’t know,” Jessie said over her shoulder.

Their footsteps fell softly on the worn bricks, but something didn’t sound right. Henry stopped, causing Jessie to stop, too.

Behind them, more footsteps rang out, then died.

“Someone’s back there!” Jessie whispered. “We’re being followed!”

Henry thought so, too. “Let’s get on our bikes and head home,” he said quietly.

Henry opened the back door for Jessie. Grandfather hadn’t returned and Mrs. McGregor was in her room. Benny, Violet, and Watch were waiting in the living room. Watch thumped his tail in greeting.

Jessie buried her face in the dog’s thick fur. She was glad to be home.

“Who was that person lurking around the statue?” she asked Henry.

“It was definitely a woman,” said Henry. “It looked like Dawn, but why would she run away? She could see it was just us.”

“What about that other person?” Jessie asked. “The one who was following us.”

“You don’t think that was Dawn coming back?” asked Henry.

Jessie shook her head. “The footsteps sounded different. Heavier.”

“If you’re right, then maybe we scared off the phantom of Greenfield Square,” Henry said. “But we still don’t know who it is. But one thing is for sure: we should keep an eye on Rick Bass, Sylvia Pepper, and Dawn Wellington. They’ve all acted strange.”

“Tomorrow we can look for clues. You two can help us, okay?” Jessie suggested to Violet and Benny. “Maybe we’ll find something around the statue.”

“Good idea,” Henry said. “We have to work on the festival anyway.”

The festival was the day after tomorrow. Henry wondered if the event would take place after all.

The next morning the Aldens rode into town with Grandfather.

“We have a lot of work to do today,” James Alden said. “It’s my job to keep everyone on schedule.”

“And it’s my job to keep
you
on schedule,” said Jessie. The notebook was close by her side. She wasn’t going to let it out of her sight until the festival was over.

“Wow!” Benny exclaimed as they came into the square. “Look at all the people!”

A blue truck was parked next to the statue of Josiah Wade.

“The construction crew is here,” Henry said.

“Yes, this is the crew Sylvia Pepper hired to build the booths,” Jessie said.

“A lot of the booths are finished,” Grandfather observed. “They must have gotten here early.”

A few workers unloaded lumber by the town hall. Hammers rang out. Electric saws zipped through boards.

The statue of Josiah Wade was temporarily blocked from view. The workers had erected scaffolding around the statue and covered it with canvas to prevent damage.

A short man with scruffy hair carried a stepladder. When he saw the Aldens, he waved.

“That guy reminds me of our dog,” Benny said. “His hair sticks out just like Watch’s does.”

“I’m going to see if the men have everything they need,” said Grandfather.

“And we’ll get to work,” Henry said. The Aldens were on cleanup duty, but they were also going to hunt for clues.

The shop owners were busy, too. Ms. Reit and Sylvia Pepper were putting the finishing touches on their shop windows. Mr. Ames from the hardware store was hanging a large banner that proclaimed, GREENFIELD WINTER FESTIVAL.

“Look up there!” Benny cried. He pointed to a figure sitting on top of a lamppost. “It’s Dawn!”

Dawn shinnied down the lamppost. She wore her camera around her neck.

“The things a photographer has to do to take good pictures!” Dawn said, joining the children.

“Weren’t you scared up there?” Violet asked.

“I’m not crazy about heights, but that was the best place to get shots of the rooftops.”

“I don’t think I could climb a lamppost just to get a good picture,” Violet said admiringly.

Dawn turned a small crank on her camera, rewinding the film. “Well, that’s the last of this roll of film. I think I have enough shots for the souvenir booklet.”

Jessie pulled a flier from her notebook. “Grandfather had stacks of these printed. People can order your booklet tomorrow at the festival.”

“I’m taking souvenir pictures, too,” Violet said to Dawn. “People will pay a dollar and I’ll send them the picture later, after I have the film developed.”

“Why don’t you let me develop them for you?” Dawn said. “I can do it much cheaper than the lab the drugstore uses.”

“That would be great!” Violet paused, then added nervously, “I’ve only taken pictures of the family. This is my first real assignment.”

“You should take a few test shots,” Dawn advised. “Pose a model by the statue today, just to see what the light is like. That way you’ll know exactly where to stand tomorrow.”

“I’ll be your model, Violet,” Benny volunteered.

Dawn patted Violet’s arm. “You’ll do just fine. Now I’d better get into my darkroom and develop this film.”

Violet watched the young woman disappear into her studio. “I can’t believe she’s the phantom of Greenfield Square. She’s just too nice.”

“I know,” Henry agreed. “But if Dawn was in the square last night, why didn’t she say anything about seeing us? We can’t rule out anyone as a suspect.”

“Let’s get started looking for clues,” Jessie said. “Why don’t we each take a corner of the square? We’ll meet at the statue.”

Henry nodded. “Good plan, Jessie. We can always count on you to keep us organized.”

Jessie blushed as she passed out small trash bags. “I’ll take the corner by the town hall. Pick up trash and anything that looks suspicious.”

Benny combed the ground near the parking lot. He found bottle caps and straw wrappers, which he threw into the garbage bag. But nothing else.

Too many people had walked around that morning, he concluded. Any clues the phantom had left behind would have been destroyed.

He had almost reached the statue when he saw something red between two bricks in the pavement.

A scrap of red silk.

He pulled it out. It was a ribbon, like the kind Dawn Wellington used around her ponytail.

“It’s lunchtime!” Grandfather’s voice boomed across the square.

Stuffing the ribbon in his pocket, Benny ran to Cooke’s Drugstore.

“I never thought you’d be last to a meal!” Grandfather teased Benny as they all went inside.

They each chose a stool and ordered. Mrs. Turner assured them that apple pie with warm cinnamon sauce was on the menu.

Violet sat next to Benny. She had been taking practice pictures while she searched for clues in the square.

“I saw you pick something up,” she said, putting her camera in her lap. “What did you find?”

Benny pulled the ribbon from his pocket. “This looks like Dawn’s.”

“It does,” Violet agreed with a sinking heart. “But she could have lost it anytime.” She was sure her special friend was not the phantom.

Sylvia Pepper came in while the Aldens were eating. She went over to Grandfather and said, “How do you like the construction crew I hired?”

“They seem to be just fine,” James Alden replied. “Won’t you join us for a bite to eat?”

“No, thanks,” Sylvia replied. “I just wanted to see how things were going.” Then she added, “I hope when the town votes to move the statue, you’ll remember who helped you with this festival.”

“A lot of people have helped,” Grandfather said evenly. “But I do appreciate your efforts, Miss Pepper.”

“The town won’t want to move the statue anyway,” Henry said when Sylvia had left. “I’m positive of that.”

“We won’t know until the votes are tallied,” said Grandfather. “Rick Bass offered to help count the ballots tonight.”

The young museum director also wanted the statue moved, thought Henry. He hadn’t seen Rick that day and wondered where he was.

After lunch, they all went back outside. Two workmen were tying a tarpaulin over the blue truck bed. The stands and booths were finished. The scaffolding had been removed from the statue, but the canvas remained.

“That’s our booth,” Jessie said, checking a chart in her notebook. “It’s right next to the refreshment booth.”

“Yummy!” Benny liked the idea of being next to the cookie booth.

Violet took out her camera. “Benny, why don’t you go over by the statue now? I want to check the light.”

Benny ran over to the statue. As he leaned against the crumbling base, he wondered why the statue was still covered.

Lifting one corner, he peered under the cloth.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

The statue was gone!

V
iolet was trying to focus through the viewfinder. But Benny kept moving the canvas that covered the statue.

“Look!” he cried. He grabbed a corner of the canvas and pulled.

Violet nearly dropped her camera. Standing on the granite base was a
stepladder.
The statue of Josiah Wade was missing!

Jessie clutched Henry’s sleeve. “What happened to the statue?” she gasped.

“Someone took it!” Henry replied as they ran to the center of the square.