“Don’t keep us in the dark,” pleaded Violet “What are you thinking?”
Jessie pointed to Pam’s name spelled out in sprinkles. “See that?”
Henry nodded.
“Remember the first two lines of Meg’s verse?”
“Sure,” Benny told her. “We’ve read it about a hundred times.”
Jessie went over to the table where she’d left her notebook. Pulling up a chair, she printed the words ETON’S LOOP on a blank page. With her pencil poised over her notebook, she recited, “When last goes first, and first goes last.”
The others stared at her. They looked totally confused.
“I don’t get it,” Violet said as they sat down.
“That makes two of us,” Benny said.
Henry added, “Three of us.”
“I’ll do the same thing Benny did,” Jessie told them. “I’ll switch the letters around.”
She paused to look at everyone, hoping they’d see what she was driving at. “I’ll make the first letter in each word go last, and, the last letter go first.” Jessie held up her notebook for the others to see—ETON’S LOOP had become STONE POOL!
“Oh, my goodness!” Violet said, putting her hands to her mouth.
“Wow!” said Henry. “That’s good detective work, Jessie.”
“I helped, too,” put in Benny, who was busy scraping the last of the frosting from the bowl.
“You sure did.” Jessie nodded. “You gave me the idea when you switched the letters around in Pam’s name.”
“What I can’t understand,” said Violet, “is what the village of Stone Pool has to do with the mystery.”
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” stated Henry.
Benny licked some frosting from a corner of his mouth. “How will we find out?” he wanted to know.
Henry thought about this. “Maybe the answer’s in that photograph of Stone Pool. The one that Norah showed us.”
Violet’s eyebrows rose. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Let’s keep a lid on this for now,” Jessie suggested. “If it turns out we’re on the wrong track, Norah’s bound to be disappointed.”
Just then, Annette poked her head into the kitchen, a pencil stuck behind her ear. “Hey, there!” she said, smiling as if glad to see them. “Do you mind if I join you?”
The children stared at Annette, wondering why she was suddenly so cheery and friendly.
Without waiting for an answer, Annette stepped into the kitchen, shutting the door behind her. “So … how are you making out with the old mystery?” she asked, giving them a big smile.
“Well, we figured out that …” Benny stopped talking in mid-sentence. He suddenly remembered not to talk about the mystery.
Annette was instantly curious. “Go on,” she urged, as she pulled up a chair and set her coffee cup down on the table.
The children looked at one another. They didn’t want to lie, but they also knew it was best not to discuss the mystery just yet.
“We have a lot of questions,” said Jessie, “but not many answers.”
Annette began to tap her pencil on the table. “Surely you’ve figured out a clue by now.”
“A clue?” asked Jessie.
Annette sat back in her chair, looking at Jessie. Then, without another word, she got to her feet, grabbed her coffee cup, and marched out of the room.
When the door had closed behind her, the Aldens breathed a sigh of relief. “Can you believe it?” said Jessie. “One day she’s making fun of us for being detectives, and the next she’s—”
“Pumping us for information,” finished Henry. “How weird is that?”
“Maybe we should forget about Annette for now,” advised Violet. “We have a mystery to solve, remember?”
“You’re right, Violet,” said Jessie. “Time to check out the photograph of Stone Pool. I’m sure Norah won’t mind.”
“The album’s in a cabinet somewhere in the living room,” Benny recalled. “At least, that’s where Pam was supposed to put it.”
Sure enough, the Aldens found the album on the bottom shelf of an old pine cabinet with frosted glass doors. They made themselves comfortable on the sofa, then leafed through the album until they came to the old photograph. Jessie read the words at the bottom aloud one more time. “The village of Stone Pool as it appeared on a summer afternoon in 1810.”
“That’s funny,” Violet said, looking over Jessie’s shoulder. “The date’s been underlined three times.” She wasn’t sure but she thought it might be some kind of clue.
But Jessie had a feeling the photograph itself contained a clue. She held it at arm’s length, tilting her head to one side and then the other. “I don’t get it,” she said at last. “I can’t spot anything unusual, can you?” She passed the photograph to Henry.
Henry bent over to examine it. “It’s just a picture of a village in the olden days. Nothing strange about it.” He passed the photograph to Benny.
“I can see lots of people going in and out of stores,” observed Benny. “Nothing strange about that, either.”
Violet took the photograph that Benny handed her and studied it closely. “There’s something wrong here,” she said. “But I can’t figure out what it is.”
“There must be something we’re not seeing,” said Jessie.
But Henry was having second thoughts. “Maybe we’re on the wrong track.”
Without taking her gaze off the photograph, Violet said, “I think we’re on the right track, Henry. I’ve got a strong hunch about it.”
“Well, right now we’re going nowhere fast,” Henry pointed out.
“And I think better on a full stomach,” added Benny.
Henry grinned. “We get the hint, Benny. Let’s get some lunch.”
“We’d better not take the photograph into the kitchen with us,” Jessie said. “We might get food on it.”
As Jessie placed the photograph on the coffee table, she thought she heard something—a slight shuffling sound in the hall. Was it just her imagination? Or was someone listening to them?
Violet swallowed a mouthful of soup. “It’s so strange.”
“What’s strange, Violet?” Henry asked, helping himself to a grilled cheese sandwich.
“I can’t put it into words, but there’s something about that photograph of Stone Pool that bothers me.”
“It’s a really old photograph, Violet,” Benny pointed out. “It’s kind of faded.”
“That’s true, Benny.” Violet poured more lemonade. “It’s more than that, though. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something’s not right.”
“When it comes to mysteries,” Jessie said, “your hunches are seldom wrong, Violet. We’ll check it out again after lunch.”
After the delicious cookies had been sampled, and the dishes done, the Aldens made a beeline for the living room.
“Where’s the photograph of Stone Pool?” Benny demanded.
“It’s gone!” Jessie said. “It ought to be right here on the coffee table.”
Violet nodded. “I remember seeing you put it there.”
“Then … what happened to it?” asked Henry, glancing around in bewilderment.
Violet had a thought. “Maybe somebody put it back in the album.”
“I sure hope that’s the explanation,” said Jessie. She quickly checked it out, but it was no use. The photograph of Stone Pool wasn’t there.
“I can’t believe it,” said Violet. “Who could have taken it?”
“A thief—that’s who!” declared Benny. “And it looks like an inside job. I don’t see any broken windows.”
This made Henry smile a little. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions, Sherlock.”
“I bet Annette stole it,” said Benny, who wasn’t about to let go of his idea.
Jessie looked over at her little brother. “We shouldn’t suspect people, Benny, until we’re certain it was stolen.”
With that, they walked slowly around the room, checking behind cushions and under chairs. But the photograph of Stone Pool had disappeared. |