“Jessie, tell us again why you think we should talk to Zoey,” Henry said, as he and Violet and Benny followed their sister out of the public library. Jessie had insisted they look up the address of Glenwood Studios in the local business directory.
“Because the studio is just two blocks away from here,” she said. “And I’m sure the police will get to the bottom of all this soon enough, but …”
“But what?” said Violet.
“But I keep getting this feeling that the person who stole all these instruments is right under our noses somehow,” Jessie said.
“I know what you mean,” said Henry.
“Me too,” Violet added.
“Me three,” said Benny.
“And what’s more,” Jessie went on, “I don’t think this is just a case of someone stealing things to make money. Someone is trying to really hurt the Greenfield Four and ruin their show at the festival tomorrow.”
“I wish we knew why,” said Violet.
“Exactly,” said Jessie. “And what if we’re close to finding out?”
“Let’s talk to Zoey!” Benny exclaimed.
Glenwood Studios was a small building with a tiny parking lot next to it. Inside, the lobby was decorated with framed photos of musicians who had recorded here. A young man was sitting at the front desk, wearing a GLENWOOD STUDIOS T-shirt.
“Is Zoey here?” she asked the young man.
“Studio A,” he said, pointing to the right.
As the children walked down the hallway, they could hear a vacuum cleaner in one of the recording rooms. They peered in and found the girl with the long ponytail there. “That must be Zoey,” Jessie said.
Zoey didn’t notice them at first, and continued to vacuum the carpet as well as the walls, which were covered with a funny foam material.
“Why are the walls soft?” Benny asked.
“They help absorb noise,” replied Henry. “It helps the music sound better while it’s being recorded.”
“THEN WHY IS THAT VACUUM SO LOUD?” Benny shouted.
Just then, Zoey noticed the children and shut off the vacuum cleaner.
At first she seemed surprised, then she smiled and said, “Oh, hi. Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” Jessie said. “Actually, we wanted to talk to you.”
“To me?”
“Yes. Did you sell a used keyboard to Tim, the boy who works at Lessenger’s music store, earlier today?”
Suddenly Zoey seemed worried. “Yes, I did,” she said. “Is there a problem with it?”
“Well …” Jessie said. She and Henry told Zoey how the Greenfield Four’s rehearsal studio had been robbed. “They’re our friends,” Jessie said.
“Oh, no!” Zoey moaned, rolling her eyes. “I knew it!”
“Knew what?” Violet asked.
“I knew there had to be a catch!” she said. “Here, I’ll show you.”
The children followed her outside to the parking lot where her small red car was parked. She opened the trunk, and inside was a second keyboard. The Aldens recognized it immediately. They looked near the on/off switch and found the name “Amy Keller” again, scratched into the metal.
“I bought this keyboard this morning, along with the other one that I sold to Tim. I didn’t need two, so I figured I’d sell one. I made enough money selling the first one to pay for both of them, so I sort of got this one for free.” She sighed. “Or so I thought. I guess I’ll have to give the money back to Lessenger’s and give both keyboards to the Greenfield Four.”
“Who sold the keyboards to you?” Jessie asked.
“I didn’t get his name,” Zoey said, taking a deep breath, “but here’s what happened. I pulled into the parking lot this morning, and a van pulled in behind me. A man got out and started talking to me. I normally don’t talk to strangers, but he seemed to know Glenn, my boss, so I figured he was okay. Anyway, he wanted to know if I wanted to buy some instruments—cheap. He opened the back of the van, and there were the two keyboards.”
“Were there any other instruments inside?” Henry asked.
“Yes,” Zoey said, “some guitars and other things. He said he was giving up music and moving out west, and he wanted to sell his equipment to raise money for the trip. I took the keyboards inside, plugged them in, and they both worked great. So I gave him the money, and off he went.”
“What did he look like?” Jessie asked.
“He was tall and thin. He had very dark hair, and a beard and mustache. He was also wearing glasses.”
“Hmm,” Henry said. “That could be a lot of people. Anything else?”
“Well, the van he was driving was white,” Zoey replied. “And it had a big blue stripe running across the sides. It was all beat-up, too. Kind of old.”
Jessie was carefully writing down Zoey’s description on a spare page in Violet’s sketchbook. Beard and mustache, glasses, white van—it wasn’t much to go on. Was it someone the children had seen working at the festival? Jessie tried to remember. Maybe this person isn't right under our noses after all, she thought. Was there anything else she could ask Zoey?
“What was the man wearing?” she asked.
“Oh, my goodness, I almost forgot!” said Zoey. “He was wearing a beret. One of those funny little hats that artists wear.”
Jessie nodded excitedly and looked at Henry. They were both sure they’d seen someone wearing a beret recently. But who?
“I’m glad you asked me,” Zoey went on. “I guess I don’t tend to imagine hats on people, because so few people wear them. But I did notice the beret. And I’m definitely going to remember it when I call the police and tell them what I know. In fact, I’d better do that now.” She reached for her cell phone.
“That’s a good idea,” Henry said. “And thank you for talking to us, too.”
Zoey waved good-bye to the children from the parking lot as they walked back to the street.
“I know we saw a man wearing a beret sometime today,” said Violet. “Was it at the festival?”
“I think so,” said Jessie. “But we saw a lot of people there.”
“Whoever the man in the beret is,” said Henry, “he certainly didn’t steal any of those instruments for the money.”
Jessie agreed. “He sold those keyboards for nearly nothing. He must have some other motive, which is—”
“—to ruin things for the Greenfield Four,” Violet finished.
Benny had been quiet all this time.
“What does a beret look like?” he asked finally. “Because that man we talked to this morning, the one with the beard—he had something funny on his head.”
The children stopped in their tracks.
“You mean, the man who was working around the stage?” Violet asked. She remembered how he’d stopped to admire the sign she’d painted.
“And then later we asked him if he’d seen Raymond,” Jessie said, remembering.
“He was friendly,” Henry noted. “But you know what’s odd? First he said he didn’t know who the Greenfield Four were. But then when we talked to him again, he knew Raymond was their roadie.”
“That is strange,” Jessie said. “Very strange. We ought to tell the band that this man might be the thief. We can tell the police, too! If only …” her voice trailed off. “If only we knew his name.”
The other children nodded sadly. There wasn’t much they could do without knowing the man’s name.
“Maybe the Greenfield Four will know who he is,” Violet said, hopeful. “We can describe him.”
“That’s true,” said Henry.
“Speaking of the Greenfield Four,” Benny thought of something. “What happened to their poster?”
He pointed to a nearby phone pole. The children could see that a poster had been torn off recently—only a few scraps at the corners remained. Even from the torn pieces they could tell it had been a poster for the Greenfield Four’s show at the festival. The children had helped design the poster, and they could recognize Violet’s artwork in the corners.
“Look! There’s another one,” Benny said as he spotted a second torn poster on the fence across the street. As the children continued down the street, they could see that nearly all the Greenfield Four’s posters had been torn down.
“What happened to them?” Violet wondered. “Did the band take them down because they aren’t going to be playing?”
“I hope not,” Jessie replied. “I hope they’re not giving up yet.”
“Maybe someone else did it,” Henry suggested. He was about to say something else as they turned the corner. Just then, though, they saw a van pull to the side of the road half a block ahead of them. Then a hand reached out, grabbed one of the posters from a telephone pole, and ripped it off. After that the driver hit the gas, and with screeching tires, the van disappeared.
“Did you see that?” Henry said.
“I sure did,” Jessie answered. “And did you see what the van looked like?”
“It was white,” Benny said, “with a blue stripe.”
“Just like the one Zoey told us about!” Violet said.
“That’s right,” Henry nodded. “I think that was our thief.” |