Rain hammered the roof of the boxcar. Six-year-old Benny Alden looked out the window.
“It’s been raining forever,” he said with a sigh. Usually he liked playing in the boxcar with his brother and sisters. The four of them had found the boxcar in the woods and lived there for a while, after their parents died. Then their grandfather, James Alden, found them and brought them to live with him in his big white house in Greenfield. Grandfather had the boxcar towed to his backyard as a special surprise for his grandchildren. When they weren’t traveling and having adventures, the Alden children used the boxcar as a playhouse.
“It’s only been raining for two days — it just seems like forever,” twelve-year-old Jessie said, smiling at her younger brother. “Why don’t you work on this puzzle with Henry and me?”
“Or paint with me?” ten-year-old Violet offered. “It’s a perfect day for using watercolors.”
Henry Alden stood up and looked out the window. At fourteen, he was the oldest of the four Alden children. “Here comes Grandfather. He looks like he has news.”
Grandfather came into the boxcar shaking his dripping umbrella. “This weather is only good for ducks,” he remarked. “But it’s nice and dry in here.
“How would you like to go to Pennsylvania for a few days?” Grandfather asked the children.
“Is it about a new mystery?” asked Violet. The Alden children loved solving mysteries.
“How did you guess?” Grandfather replied.
Benny didn’t need to hear any more. “Let’s go!”
Jessie laughed. “Benny’s always in a hurry to go solve a new mystery.”
“What’s the mystery about?” Henry asked.
“I’ll tell you everything once we’re on the road,” said Grandfather. “I’d like to be in Pennsylvania before dinner.”
An hour later, the Aldens left Connecticut behind and were on their way to Deer Crossing, Pennsylvania.
“So why are we going to Deer Crossing?” Henry asked.
Grandfather changed lanes, then replied, “This morning I got a call from my friend Jocelyn Hawley. She lives in Deer Crossing and runs a local radio station. Jocelyn didn’t want to go into detail over the phone, but apparently the station is in some kind of trouble. I’ve told her before what great detectives my grandchildren are, and she asked if you would come and help.”
“Wow!” said Benny. “Do you think we’ll get to see inside the station?”
“I’m sure of it,” Grandfather said.
As they crossed the Pennsylvania border, the rain cleared and the sun broke through the clouds. After a while, Grandfather turned off the interstate and onto a road along Deer River. A tall metal tower with a blinking red light and the letters WCXZ loomed over the village of Deer Crossing.
“That tower must be part of the radio station,” said Henry. He checked the directions Grandfather had given him. “Jocelyn Hawley’s house should be at the end of this street.”
“It’s been a while since I was last here,” Grandfather said.
A large redbrick house with a wide, welcoming front porch stood on a hill before them. As the Aldens’ minivan climbed the gravel driveway, two figures came out of the house.
A woman about Grandfather’s age smiled warmly and waved as they stepped out of the car. “I’m so glad you came,” said Jocelyn Hawley. She wore slacks and a blue sweater that brought out the blue in her eyes. Dangly silver earrings set off her short gray hair.
“I’m overdue for a visit,” Grandfather said. “Let me introduce my grandchildren, Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny. Children, meet Jocelyn Hawley.”
“You guys are the detectives?” said the girl standing beside Jocelyn. She was about Henry’s age, tall and slim, with long red hair.
“And very good ones, from what I hear,” Jocelyn said. “This is my granddaughter, Gwen.”
“Hi,” Gwen said. She smiled, but not as warmly as Jocelyn.
Jocelyn moved toward the front door. “Let’s go inside so you can get settled. Dinner is nearly ready. We can talk while we eat.”
The Aldens were given the top floor of the Hawley house. When they had unpacked, the children and Grandfather trooped downstairs to the large family room, where snacks had been set out in front of a low, snapping fire.
“Help yourself,” Gwen said, pointing to glasses and a pitcher of cranberry juice on the coffee table. After they had finished their snacks, the Aldens helped Gwen carry everything back to the kitchen. Then Jocelyn called them to supper.
When everyone’s plate was loaded with spaghetti, green salad, and warm bread, Jocelyn began her story.
“My husband, Luther, bought the radio station many years ago, just after we were married,” she told the Aldens. “It was a lovely station with programs like a household hints show, a breakfast show, easy-listening music, and live dramas,”
“I’ve always tuned into the station on business trips,” said Grandfather. “Luther was a great DJ.”
“Luther called the station the heartbeat of Deer Crossing,” said Jocelyn. “He never made much money because he did things the old-fashioned way. But he loved that station.”
The Aldens smiled and Jocelyn went on. “Once a man from a big corporation offered Luther a lot of money to sell the station. The man wanted to cancel Luther’s old-fashioned radio shows and play ‘all hits, all the time.’”
“What happened?” asked Henry.
Gwen passed the breadbasket. “Gramp refused,” she said proudly. “He said no amount of money would make him give up his old programs.”
“The man left,” Jocelyn added. “He knew Luther would never change his mind.”
Grandfather smiled. “Luther always knew exactly what he wanted.”
Jocelyn smiled back. “After Luther died, people asked me if I’d change the format to something more modern.”
“Like ‘all hits, all the time?’” Violet guessed.
Jocelyn nodded. “But I didn’t. The radio station really is the heartbeat of Deer Crossing. And I love the old-fashioned programs just as much as Luther did. I’m proud of the station and of the programs we play.”
“I like it, too,” Gwen put in. “Gran’s station is really fun to listen to. It’s the kind of radio people had back in the old days, before everyone had a television. We even put on a live mystery show. I’m the sound engineer,” she added proudly.
“A live mystery show!” Benny repeated. “That sounds great!”
“The episodes are twenty minutes a day, five days a week,” Jocelyn told them. “Each week we do a new play. A local woman writes the scripts and waiters and waitresses from the Route 11 Diner act for free. And Gwen does the sound effects. She’s very good.”
“Sounds like fun,” Henry said.
“It was fun,” Jocelyn said sadly. “Until these things started happening.”
“What kinds of things?” Jessie wanted to know.
“Lights going out, blood-curdling screams,” Gwen replied with a shiver. “People think it’s a ghost.”
“That’s just a story,” Jocelyn said.
Benny’s eyes grew big. “Why would a ghost haunt a radio station?”
“Not just any ghost,” said Gwen mysteriously. “We have our very own special ghost at station WCXZ.”
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