“I think you were right, Henry,” Jessie said, still staring at the two pictures. “Mr. Finch and Mr. Van Buren don’t seem to be enemies at all.”
“And I was thinking about something,” Violet added. “Remember that book Mr. Finch published a long time ago called Lost in the Mountains?”
“That was one of the best ever!” Benny proclaimed.
“It sure was,” Violet agreed. “And remember the dedication page? He wrote,
‘This one is for Danny Boy.’ What if Danny Boy was Mr. Van Buren? His first name is Daniel, after all.”
“And there was also a character in that story named ‘Dennis Van Bowlen,’ wasn’t there?” Jessie asked.
“That’s right,” Henry replied. “I’ll bet Mr. Finch named him in honor of Van Buren. The two names are certainly very similar.”
Jessie was nodding. “I think it’s clear where we need to go next.”
“It sure is,” Henry replied.
Jenna was kind enough to give the Aldens a lift to Daniel Van Buren’s home during her lunch break. As soon as they made their way down the winding gravel driveway the house came into view, they all stopped, speechless.
“Are you all thinking what I’m thinking?” Jessie asked.
“I think so,” Violet replied.
Daniel Van Buren’s home was clearly an old barn. It was painted white, but a few cracks around the edges revealed that the original color was red. And the shutters on either side of the windows were black.
“Just like in that article we read,” Henry said.
Violet was nodding. “This is where Mr. Finch sometimes goes to write. This is his secret hideaway!”
“So much for them being enemies!” Benny said.
Standing on the front step, they rang the bell and waited. A moment later, the enormous door flew back, and an older woman stood there with her hands on her hips.
“Yes?”
“Uh, I’m sorry,” Jessie began, “but could you please tell us if Mr. Van Buren is home?”
“No, not since early yesterday. Who may I ask is calling?”
“We’re the Aldens,” Henry told her, “and we’re trying to find a friend of his. His name is Gilbert Finch.”
“Ah yes, Gilbert. He was here up until a little while ago, I believe. I’m Rita, Mr. Van Buren’s housekeeper.”
“Oh, okay,” Henry said. “Well, we need to find Mr. Finch. You said he was here?”
“Yes, although I’m not sure when. I’ve been visiting my sister since yesterday afternoon, so I’ve been out. But Gilbert has his own key, and he sure left a mess for me to clean up.”
“What kind of a mess?” Violet asked.
“Wet clothes?” Jessie guessed.
“Muddy shoes?” Henry added.
“Yes, that’s right. How did you know?”
“We’re detectives!” Benny told Rita, and then Henry gave her a quick rundown of everything that had happened so far.
When he was finished, Rita said, “Well, maybe you can tell me what this is, then.” She turned the broom around and pulled out some fine white hair. “I’ve never seen anything like it in the house before.”
Jessie took a handful and examined it. The others did the same. There was little doubt as to what it was …
“Dog hair,” Jessie said.
“Dog hair?” Rita groaned and shook her head. “I’ll have to do the floors again.”
Henry said, “Do you mind if we come in and take a quick look around for more clues? If we see any more dog hair, we promise to clean it up.”
“Sure. Just don’t make a mess.”
“We won’t,” Jessie assured her.
They went from room to room, looking and not touching. There was a small laundry area in the back, with a washer and dryer. The children found two small bowls on the floor. One still had some cracker crumbs in the bottom, and the other had a tiny puddle of water. Then they found Finch’s rain-soaked clothes in the sink—a handsome houndstooth blazer, a torn white dress shirt, and a pair of black leather shoes that were probably very nice at one time but now appeared completely ruined. And lying in a nearby trash can was a cell phone. When the Aldens tried turning it on, nothing happened—it was ruined.
When they went upstairs, they found two towels piled in a corner of Van Buren’s guest room—one was stained with dirt, the other had more fine white hair all over it. It also had that same horrible dog-shampoo smell that was in the fourth car of the train.
“He must’ve taken a shower with one towel, and dried off the dog with the other,” Henry said. They also noticed that the bed had been slept in. It was still unmade.
Jessie picked up the telephone on the nightstand and put it to her ear. “Still doesn’t work,” she said. “So that explains why he didn’t call us again.”
The others nodded as these pieces of this mystery fell neatly into place.
“But then we end up with the same problem as before,” Jessie told them. “Which is …”
“Where is he now?” asked Violet. “We keep missing him!” Benny said.
“Exactly,” Henry replied. “We’re on the right trail, but we’re too far behind.”
Violet looked at a pendulum clock that was hanging on the wall. “And there’s so little time left before the reading at the library!”
Then Jessie said, “I’ve been thinking … if you came here out of the blue, just like Mr. Finch did, stayed the night, took some clothes and some food, and then left—and the person who owned the house was an old friend—wouldn’t you leave a note of some kind?”
“I certainly would,” Violet said.
Henry snapped his fingers. “Hey, remember in that one book of his, The Jade Flower of Japan, when the boy left the message for his mom by putting it on the computer?”
“Oh yeah!” Jessie said. “Then he turned off the screen so those guys chasing him wouldn’t see it!”
“But he knew his mom would, as soon as she turned it on again.”
“Do you think Mr. Finch did that here?” Violet asked.
“It’s worth checking out,” Henry replied. “We didn’t see a note anywhere else, and Van Buren is probably on his computer every day. It’s the perfect place to put it.”
The Aldens hurried down the hall and back into Mr. Van Buren’s office. It was a warm and cheerful place, especially for anyone who liked to read—the walls were covered floor-to-ceiling with bookcases and filled with books of every kind. Three huge windows provided a breathtaking view of the hills and mountains beyond. And in the center of the room was Van Buren’s enormous oak desk, covered with papers and more books. His computer was running, the children could tell, because they could hear the hum of the hard drive and the whir of the fan. But the monitor—just as in Finch’s story—was off.
“Here goes,” Henry said, pushing the button. It took a moment for the screen to light up, but when it did, they knew they’d been right. The message was right in front of them. Henry read it aloud:
Danny Boy,
Sorry about the mess—so much has happened since yesterday. I’ll give you the details when I see you. In the meantime, I have to go to the library in Greenfield to meet with some readers. Since I missed the train and there aren’t any others scheduled to go down there today, I’m taking your other car, the old one. I hope you don’t mind!
-Gil
PS—I read some of your new book—the one that’s sitting on your desk here—and it stinks.
Henry chuckled. “Just what I thought—they don’t hate each other. They’re just rivals, that’s all.”
“What’s a rival?” Benny asked.
“Someone who’s trying to outdo you. Mr. Van Buren is trying to sell more books than Mr. Finch. But they’re obviously good friends. They just enjoy teasing each other. That’s all Mr. Van Buren was doing at the library when he was moving around Finch’s books—just giving him a hard time. They’ve probably been doing it to each other for years.”
“And what about this other car?” Jessie said. “Does Mr. Van Buren have an old car?”
Then a voice came from behind them, and it certainly wasn’t Rita’s voice.
“Yes I do,” Daniel Van Buren replied, standing in the doorway. “And it appears that my friend Finch has taken it. But it has a little problem, I’m afraid—it doesn’t run very well.”
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