Tattletale Mystery (6 page)

A flush of crimson crept over Violet’s face. “I still have a lot to learn,” she said modestly. “But I do love to draw and paint.”

“That’s what really matters,” said Edmund. “When you look at Margaret’s paintings, you just know she loves to paint more than anything in the world. You can see it in the brushstrokes and the vibrant colors. That’s what makes her paintings so special.”

“Just like Milly Manchester!” Benny chimed in. “Milly liked painting more than anything, too.”

Margaret’s smile suddenly faded. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that name.” She seemed annoyed by Benny’s remark. “I’ve never met Milly Manchester.”

Edmund thought for a moment. “I believe she was a local painter.” He looked over to where a middle-aged man was talking to a small group of people. “Isn’t that her nephew, Jem Manchester?”

They followed Edmund’s gaze to a man dressed in a checkered sports jacket and charcoal trousers. His dark hair was slicked back, and he was gesturing to the paintings with a sweep of his arm.

Just then, a voice said, “Yes, that’s Jem.” As Mrs. Turner joined their group, she told them, “He runs a car dealership in town.”

Jessie caught Henry’s eye. What was Jem Manchester doing at a gallery? According to Mrs. Spencer, Milly’s nephew had no interest in art.

“I’m not surprised he’s in sales,” remarked Edmund. “He’s quite the smooth talker. I overheard him praising Margaret’s paintings, saying they’ll be worth a fortune in a few years. Comments like that can’t hurt business.”

Margaret didn’t look at all pleased. “My paintings will sell without anyone’s help,” she snapped. Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny exchanged looks of amazement. Why was Margaret Longford so upset?

“I certainly didn’t mean to insult anyone,” Edmund remarked, puzzled.

“Margaret’s from a wealthy family,” put in Mrs. Turner. “She probably doesn’t understand what it takes to run a business.”

Edmund changed the subject. “I’ll duck into the back room, James, and wrap that painting of yours.” Then he hurried away.

Seeing the questioning look on the children’s faces, Grandfather smiled over at them. “I bought one of the unframed canvasses,” he told them. “I just couldn’t resist. Margaret really is a brilliant artist.”

“Mrs. Turner!” Jem Manchester suddenly came toward them, holding his hand out. “I had no idea you were a patron of the arts.”

“I could say the same thing about you, Jem,” she responded, shaking hands. Then she introduced the Aldens to Milly’s nephew.

“The truth is, I’ve never spent much time in art galleries,” Jem confessed, after saying hello to everyone. “But I wanted to find out what all the fuss was about. The whole town’s doing cartwheels over Margaret Longford.” He paused to glance around the room at the colorful canvasses. Slapping a hand over his heart, he said, “Her paintings have absolutely taken my breath away! Superb! No other word for it.” Jem strode off, leaving everyone to stare after him.

Mrs. Turner laughed a little. “That’s quite a sales pitch he’s giving. You’d almost think there was something in it for him, wouldn’t you?”

When Edmund returned with Grandfather’s painting, the Aldens thanked the gallery owner and said good-bye. As they were leaving, Jessie turned around for one last look at Margaret Longford. She still had the oddest feeling she’d seen her somewhere before. But she couldn’t quite put her finger on where it was.

When they got back from the gallery, Grandfather wasted no time in tearing the wrapping away from the painting he’d bought. He held up a landscape of clover fields edged with autumn trees that seemed to glow with light and color. In a bottom corner was Margaret Longford’s signature.

Violet let out the breath she had been holding. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” she said in an awed voice. And the others were quick to agree.

“I was hoping you’d like it, Violet.” Grandfather smiled over at his youngest granddaughter. “I thought your bedroom would be the perfect place for it.”

Violet gasped. “You bought this for ... for me?” She looked as if she didn’t quite believe it.

Nodding, Grandfather said, “I can’t think of anyone who appreciates art more than you do.”

“How can I ever thank you, Grandfather?” Violet gave him a warm hug.

James Alden chuckled. “The look on your face is all the thanks I need.” Then he added, “I’ll get Edmund to frame it for you after the exhibit.”

“Your bedroom really is the perfect place for it, Violet,” Jessie said, smiling happily at her sister.

“It sure is!” Henry was smiling, too.

“And don’t forget,” put in Benny, “it’ll be worth a fortune in a few years. That’s what Jem Manchester says.”

Later, as the children sat in Violet’s room, Henry brought up something he had been thinking about.

“There’s somebody else we might want to include on our list of Tattletale suspects,” he said.

“Who is it?” they all asked at the same time.

“Mrs. Spencer.”

“What ... ?” The others were so surprised, all they could do was stare at their older brother.

“You don’t really mean that, do you, Henry?” asked Jessie, who was sitting on the edge of Violet’s bed. “You can’t suspect Mrs. Spencer.”

“We have to consider everybody.”

“But why would she want to play a trick on us, Henry?” Violet couldn’t believe Mrs. Spencer would do something so awful. “She’s always been so nice to us.”

“We all like her,” said Henry, “but still ... she could’ve planted all those clues herself. She wants her daughter to move in with her, remember? Maybe Rachel
will
move in if she thinks her mother’s frightened by all the strange things that are happening.”

They had to admit that it was possible. Didn’t Mrs. Spencer want her daughter to go back to school and become a nurse? Wasn’t moving in with her mother the only way Rachel could afford to do that?

“I still think our best suspect is Janice Allen,” Violet insisted. “She even works at the gallery.”

“And
at the library,” added Benny. “Don’t forget, Mrs. Spencer likes to read. So Janice probably knows her.” He thought for a minute. “I bet Janice knows everybody in Greenfield. She even knows Margaret Longford from school. Only ... she calls her Peg.”

Jessie clapped her hands. “Benny, you’re brilliant!”

The youngest Alden was perched on the window seat, his arms wrapped around his knees. “Thank you,” he said, grinning.

The others looked at Jessie, puzzled.

“I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen her before,” Jessie explained. “Margaret, I mean. Just now, when Benny mentioned the name Peg, it suddenly hit me. Margaret’s the woman with the blond ponytail! She was in that snapshot with Milly.”

“Mrs. Spencer
did
say her name was Peg,” Henry realized. “I guess it could be the same person.”

Benny looked doubtful. “Margaret said she’d never met Milly.”

“We only got a quick look at that snapshot,” said Violet, who was sitting right next to Jessie. “You can’t be sure it was Margaret.” Violet admired the young artist’s work and didn’t like to think she was dishonest.

“True,” admitted Jessie. “There’s no way of knowing for sure until we see the photograph again.”

Henry got up from his chair. “If it
was
Margaret in the photo,” he said in the middle of a yawn, “what do you think it means?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jessie, yawning, too. “I wish I did. Right now I’m too tired to think about it anymore.”

It had been a long day and the Aldens decided to get a good night’s sleep.

Just before climbing into bed, Violet took one more admiring glance at Margaret’s painting. But as she looked a little closer, she couldn’t help noticing that the background was a different color around the edges of the canvas — almost as though the landscape had been painted over a finished work. It seemed odd to Violet. If Margaret was from a wealthy family, wouldn’t she have enough money to buy new canvas? Why would she paint over another one of her paintings?

Violet was still wondering about it when she climbed into bed. But soon enough, she put it out of her mind as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Leaving Watch with Mrs. McGregor, the Aldens rode their bikes over to Mrs. Spencer’s the next morning. It wasn’t long before their good friend was flipping through the pages of her photograph album.

“It’s ... it’s gone!” cried Benny, as they all stared down at the empty space where the snapshot used to be. “The photograph has disappeared.”

To their surprise, Mrs. Spencer did not seem at all shocked. “I’m sure it’s around the house somewhere,” she said matter-of-factly. “I must’ve taken it out for some reason.” Brushing back wisps of her snowy white hair, she frowned a little. “I do hope I didn’t misplace it. With everything that’s been happening, I haven’t been thinking clearly these days.”

When the Aldens walked outside again, Violet said, “Poor Mrs. Spencer! I hope she finds her photograph.”

“She won’t find it, because Rachel stole it.”

“Benny!” Jessie exclaimed. “You shouldn’t say things like that!”

“But it’s true,” insisted Benny “That day we met Rachel, I caught her looking through her mother’s album. And I could tell by the look on her face that she was up to no good.”

This made Henry smile a little. “Why would Rachel steal her mother’s photo, Benny?”

“I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure she did.”

“I know Rachel wasn’t very nice to us, Benny,” said Violet, “but that doesn’t make her a thief.”

After a moment’s thought, Jessie said, “It does seem odd, though, that the photograph suddenly disappeared.”

Henry grinned over at his sister. “Remember what you said, Jessie? One mystery at a time.”

At that, they voted to take another look around the gallery for clues. Hopping on their bikes, they headed for Town Square. When they arrived, they were surprised to find the gallery doing a brisk business even early in the day.

“Hi, kids!” Edmund called out as Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny came into the gallery. “What brings you here again today?”

“We were hoping to take another look at Margaret’s paintings,” Henry told the gallery owner. “If that’s okay.”

“Take all the time you want.” As Edmund hurried away to greet a customer, he called back, “Hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Jessie and Henry exchanged glances. Did Edmund know they were looking for clues? Or was it just a coincidence he’d said that?

The Aldens kept their eyes peeled for anything unusual as they walked around the gallery ... once ... twice ... three times. Sharp-eyed Benny was the first to notice something, and he was soon dashing from painting to painting.

Benny looked around to make sure no one would overhear him. Then he whispered to his brother and sisters what he’d discovered. “Margaret Longford put a snapdragon in all of her paintings, just like Milly!”

Henry looked puzzled. So did Jessie and Violet.

“What do you mean, Benny?” asked Henry.

It wasn’t long before they were staring wide-eyed as their little brother led them from painting to painting. Sure enough, there was a bright pink snapdragon in every one!

Benny swallowed a bite of his toasted tomato sandwich. “So Margaret knew Milly after all.”

The Aldens were sitting on cushions on the floor of the boxcar. They were talking about the mystery while they ate their lunch, with Watch curled up on his rug nearby.

“No doubt about it,” said Henry. He wiped some mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “It’s not just a coincidence Margaret put snapdragons in her paintings.”

“That means she copied Milly,” Benny said indignantly.

Henry nodded. “That’s exactly what it means.”

But Jessie wasn’t so sure that’s what it meant. Her mind was racing. “Unless ...” A sudden thought came to her.

“Unless what, Jessie?” Violet questioned.

“Unless Milly’s paintings weren’t really destroyed in a fire.”

The others looked at Jessie in surprise. “What do you mean?” Benny asked.

Jessie answered, “What if Jem just wanted everyone to think they were destroyed?”

This got Henry thinking. “Now that you mention it, Milly never signed her paintings. Margaret could’ve added her own signature to them easily.”

“And then Milly’s paintings could be sold,” finished Jessie.

“Do you really think the paintings are Milly’s?” Violet’s eyes were huge.

Jessie nodded. “That would explain why Margaret lied about knowing her.”

“I suppose so,” Violet admitted reluctantly. She didn’t want to believe Margaret would take credit for someone else’s work.

But deep inside, she knew Jessie could be right.

Henry said, “It would also explain Jem’s sudden interest in art.” He crunched into an apple.

“And it proves someone stole the photograph,” Benny added. “I bet Rachel is working with Jem and Margaret. They’ll probably split the money they make from the paintings.”

Henry couldn’t argue. “You might be right, Benny. That photograph was the only evidence linking Margaret with Milly Manchester.” He paused for a moment. “And Mrs. Spencer did say things are slow for Rachel at work. Maybe she saw Milly’s paintings as a way to make some quick money.”