“There must be something else here,” said Jessie. “Something we’re not seeing.”
This got Henry thinking. Reaching into the hatbox, he patted all around. Finally, he pulled up gently on the flowery paper that lined the bottom. “I think there’s something here!”
“What is it?” Violet asked in a hushed voice.
Henry lifted the lining away and shone the light into the box. “It looks like a story.”
“A very old manuscript,” added Jessie. “It’s all yellowed with age. Just like the note.”
“What’s a manuscript?” asked Benny.
“A story that’s ready to send to a publisher,” explained Jessie.
Henry peered closely at the top page. “This one’s called The Crooked House Mystery.”
“And look!” Violet was glancing over Henry’s shoulder. “It says it was written by Amelia Quigley Adams.”
“Wow!” cried Benny. “You mean Amelia Quigley Adams wrote a mystery about Mrs. McGregor’s family home? But ... I’ve never seen The Crooked House Mystery in the Greenfield Library.”
“Neither have I,” said Jessie thoughtfully. “I don’t think it was ever published.”
The attic stairs suddenly gave a loud creak.
“Who’s that?” asked Violet in alarm.
Jessie put a protective arm around Benny as Henry clicked off the flashlight.
“I don’t know,” whispered Henry. He peeked out from behind the mirror just as a shadow appeared in the doorway.
The inky outline began to move slowly into the deeper darkness of the attic, with its own beam from a flashlight leading the way.
Benny tried to stay very still and quiet. But the dust was tickling his nose. There was nothing he could do! His nose started to twitch, and then suddenly a sneeze escaped! “Aaah-chooo!”
“Who’s there?”
It was Rebecca Flagg! The Aldens recognized her voice immediately. Loud thumping and bumping noises began as Rebecca tried to make her way through the maze of boxes and trunks. Then there was a terrible thud!
Henry beamed the light to where Rebecca had tripped and fallen.
Concerned, Violet rushed out from behind the mirror. “Are you all right?”
“I am most certainly not all right!” Rebecca pulled away when Violet tried to give her a hand. “You scared me half to death! I should have known the Aldens would be up here. Snooping around as usual.”
“We weren’t snooping!” Benny said indignantly as Rebecca got slowly to her feet.
Just then, they heard the thundering sounds of someone racing up the stairs. Then Nick was standing in the doorway with Clarissa at his elbow.
“What’s going on in here?” Nick held up a hand to shield his eyes from Henry’s flashlight. “I thought the roof was falling in!”
Rebecca mumbled, “Oh, it’s just the Aldens playing games.”
“Well, it’s too cold to be playing up here,” declared Nick. “Let’s go downstairs where it’s warm.”
But Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny weren’t going anywhere without the hatbox. By the time the Aldens finally made their way downstairs, Mrs. McGregor and Madeline had returned.
“What in the world are you doing with that old hatbox, Henry?” asked Mrs. McGregor as she hung up her coat.
Madeline stepped out of her boots. “Nick told us you were up in that icy attic.” She shook her head disapprovingly “I just hope you don’t catch pneumonia!”
“Nick and Clarissa are in the living room with Nola,” said Mrs. McGregor. “Why don’t we go in and sit by the fire with them?”
Madeline’s tone was stern. “And then you can tell us what this is all about!”
When everyone was gathered in the living room a few minutes later, Henry reached into the hatbox, took out the yellowed manuscript, and handed it to Mrs. McGregor. “The hatbox had a false bottom,” he explained. “We found something hidden underneath. Something that belongs to you.”
Mrs. McGregor stared down at the pages in bewilderment, while Nick looked over her shoulder and let out a low whistle.
Rebecca rushed over. When she saw the manuscript, she drew in a sharp breath. “For years it’s been rumored that Amelia Quigley Adams left behind an unpublished manuscript,” she said in a hushed voice.
“But nobody’s been able to trace its whereabouts. Until now, that is.”
Mrs. McGregor looked more confused than ever. “But ... how did it get into the hatbox?”
“The Mystery Lady!” Benny piped up. “Her real name was Amelia Quigley Adams.”
Mrs. McGregor’s eyes widened. “The Mystery Lady and Amelia Quigley Adams were the same person?”
“It can’t be!” cried Madeline in disbelief.
“It’s true,” insisted Rebecca.
Madeline narrowed her eyes. “What makes you so sure, Nola?”
“Her name isn’t Nola,” Henry stated firmly. “It’s Rebecca Flagg.”
Madeline and Mrs. McGregor both stared at the young woman.
“Is there anything the Aldens don’t know?” asked Nick in surprise.
“We know a lot,” Benny told him. “We even know that you and Rebecca were planning to steal the treasure from Mrs. McGregor!”
Madeline looked horrified. “Benny, what a terrible thing to say!”
Rebecca dropped into a chair. “It’s high time you knew the truth. My real name is Rebecca Flagg.”
Madeline and Mrs. McGregor were too shocked to speak.
“Please, let me explain,” Rebecca went on. “I’m not a thief, and neither is Nick. The fact is, I’m a writer. For the past year, I’ve been working on a biography of Amelia Quigley Adams. I’ve been trying to fill in some of the missing gaps in her life. And I’ve been hoping I just might be able to find her famous missing manuscript at the same time.
“You see, for a few weeks every summer Amelia would vanish into thin air. I suppose it was her way of escaping from the demands of editors and fans. But it’s always been a mystery where she went. Then one day, I happened to come across a small sketch. Just something doodled into a corner of Amelia’s notepad.”
“What was it?” asked Madeline curiously.
“It was a drawing of a house with crooked windows and a crooked door. And a funny crooked chimney.”
“Oh!” cried Mrs. McGregor.
Rebecca went on, “I didn’t pay much attention to it at first. At least, not until I was invited to a dinner party about a month ago. That’s when I heard one of the guests mention his holidays. He said he’d stayed at a Crooked House on Riddle Lake. I could hardly believe my ears!” Rebecca stopped talking and took a deep breath. “I managed to get Madeline’s phone number, and I called the very next day. I asked for her permission to poke around the house a bit.”
All eyes turned to Madeline.
“I do remember a phone call about a month ago,” Madeline said slowly. “Someone inquiring about a guest who supposedly left something behind years ago.” Madeline looked at Rebecca. “I thought you were accusing me of keeping something—something that didn’t belong to me.”
“I was so excited at the time,” Rebecca was forced to admit, “I probably didn’t explain myself very well. I ended up offending you, Madeline. I didn’t know what to do then. That’s why I decided to go by a different name: Nola Rawlings.”
“That way, you could visit the Crooked House anyway,” guessed Henry.
“Yes, and truly I’m sorry for the deception, Madeline,” Rebecca apologized. “But I was afraid you wouldn’t let me stay if you knew I was the woman who had phoned.”
Nick spoke up. “I’m just as much to blame. When I happened to run into Rebecca in town, and she mentioned she was staying at the Crooked House, I told her about your plans to sell the place, Madeline. And that’s when she explained her real reason for coming to Riddle Lake. I suggested she keep pretending her name was Nola Rawlings for a while.”
“But why?” asked Madeline. “Why would you do such a thing?”
Nick sighed. “Because Rebecca wasn’t sure she was on the right track.”
“That’s right,” agreed Rebecca. “I’d been trying to match other sketches of Amelia’s with houses in the neighborhood and with buildings in town. Many places had changed over the years, so I used photographs from the town archives. It wasn’t long before I knew that Amelia must have spent a great deal of time at Riddle Lake. I still wasn’t sure, though, if she’d actually stayed at the Crooked House.”
Nick interrupted. “Since it was just a hunch, I suggested not saying anything to you, Madeline. Not until there was more proof that the Crooked House really had been Amelia’s secret getaway. I didn’t want you to be disappointed if there was no treasure.”
Henry looked at Rebecca. “So you tried to make us think you had no interest in Amelia Quigley Adams.”
“That’s right,” confessed Rebecca. Then she smiled a little. “I must admit, it startled me when Mrs. McGregor asked if I was a fan of Amelia’s. I was afraid she knew the truth about me.”
Mrs. McGregor had a question. “Why would the Mystery Lady—I mean, Amelia—hide her manuscript?”
Rebecca frowned. “To make a long story short, Amelia’s publishing company was sold. She didn’t like the new people who started to work on her books. They wanted Amelia to take a new direction with her books. They thought her books were too gentle and old-fashioned for the market. They were wrong, of course. Those are the very qualities that have made Amelia’s books popular throughout the years.”
“Poor Amelia!” cried Violet. “What did she do?”
“Well, for one thing,” responded Rebecca, “she refused to change a single word. Finally, she decided not to publish her latest manuscript at all.”
“Instead, she hid the manuscript away in the hatbox,” said Jessie, nodding.
“Yes, and soon after that, she became very ill.” Rebecca cleared her throat. “Sadly, Amelia passed away the following winter.”
“Oh, dear!” said Mrs. McGregor. “That was always my worst fear.”
After a long pause, Rebecca continued. “No one ever found her manuscript, so you can imagine my surprise when I heard about a riddle that would lead to a hidden treasure!”
“You were listening when Mrs. McGregor told us about the Mystery Lady, weren’t you?” said Violet.
Rebecca lowered her eyes, and her face reddened. “Yes, I admit I was standing in the hallway.”
“Violet had a feeling someone was eavesdropping,” said Jessie. “Did you tell Nick and Clarissa everything?”
Rebecca nodded. “I always kept them posted on any new developments.”
Jessie turned to Clarissa. “So that’s how you knew about the P.S. at the end of the note!”
Clarissa looked over at the Aldens sheepishly. “I couldn’t admit that I already knew about the riddle. Not without explaining about Rebecca, too.”
Just then Benny turned to Rebecca. “You took the note, didn’t you? The one the Mystery Lady wrote to Mrs. McGregor.”
Rebecca hesitated, then she reached into her vest pocket and pulled out the yellowed paper. “I intended to put it back. That’s what I was doing up in the attic earlier. I just needed it long enough for Nick to study the handwriting. And from the way he described the person who wrote it, I knew it could be none other than Amelia Quigley Adams. She was the guest known to everyone as the Mystery Lady.”
Nick nodded. “We agreed it was time to explain everything to you, Madeline. We were just waiting for you to get home. We were hoping you’d want to make a thorough search of the house when you heard about Amelia’s manuscript.”
Puzzled, Violet said, “There are some things I don’t understand. What did you mean when you said that you and Nola were partners in crime?”
“Oh, you heard that, did you?” Nick was smiling. “It’s not what you think. It was just a joke. My only crime was not wanting Madeline to get her hopes up for nothing.”
Violet turned to Clarissa. “And why did you rush away so quickly when we invited you to go skating?”
Clarissa looked down at her hands. “I didn’t know Madeline had decided for sure to sell the Crooked House. Not until Jessie mentioned it at the lake that day. I was so upset, I had to find out from Madeline if it was true.”
“I’m sorry you found out like that.” Madeline put her arm around Clarissa. “I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t want to spoil your holidays.”
Henry was wondering about something. “What will you do with the manuscript, Mrs. McGregor?”
After a few moments, Mrs. McGregor said, “It isn’t mine alone, Henry. This manuscript belongs to Amelia’s fans everywhere. I’ll make sure it gets to the right publisher. Someone who won’t change a single word.”
Nick was grinning from ear to ear. “The Crooked House will get all the free advertising it needs with the publication of that manuscript! And on top of that, there’s the biography that Rebecca is writing. Why, people will soon be coming from every corner of the world to spend time at the Crooked House!”
Madeline wiped away a tear. “I can’t believe it! We can keep our family home after all.”
Benny looked surprised. “But don’t you want to travel?”
“Oh, I like traveling, Benny,” replied Madeline. “And I hope one day to be able to do a lot more. But I realized a long time ago that there’s no place like home! And I’m sorry I tried to discourage you from searching for the treasure,” she added. “I just wanted to spare you the same disappointment my sister had experienced years ago.”
Rebecca smiled at the Aldens for the first time. She was a changed person now that the truth was out in the open. “I can’t thank you enough for finding the manuscript. And I’m really sorry for being so ...” Her voice trailed away.
“Unfriendly?” asked Benny.
“Yes, Benny,” said Rebecca. “I thought if I kept my distance, no one would ask me any personal questions.”
“Oh,” said Violet, beginning to understand.
“Finding the treasure was very important to me,” added Rebecca. “And I couldn’t help thinking it was a game to the Aldens.”
“It wasn’t just a game to us!” exclaimed Violet.
“It was more than that,” agreed Jessie. “A lot more.”
Henry added, “We were trying to help Mrs. McGregor. And we were also trying to—”
“Solve a mystery!” finished Benny.
“I know that now,” admitted Rebecca. “I didn’t realize the Aldens were such good detectives!”
“They’re the very best kind of detectives,” declared Mrs. McGregor. “They’re the kind who believe in teamwork.”
Just then, Jessie leaned over and whispered in Violet’s ear. Violet dashed from the room. She returned a few minutes later with her sketch of the Crooked House. As everyone gathered around, she presented it to Mrs. McGregor.
“Oh, Violet!” cried Mrs. McGregor. “I’ll treasure this always!”
Madeline sighed happily. “Not even Amelia Quigley Adams could come up with a happier ending to a mystery than this!” |