“Is it really haunted, Grandfather?” asked six-year-old Benny, his eyes huge.
“Haunted?” James Alden looked puzzled, but only for a moment. “Oh, I suppose you children heard me on the phone?”
Jessie poured more milk into Benny’s glass. “Yes, you were talking to Aunt Jane about the Trap-Door Theater, Grandfather,” she explained. At twelve, Jessie often acted like a mother to her younger brother and sister.
Violet, who was ten, looked up. “Benny heard you say it was haunted, Grandfather.”
Fourteen-year-old Henry shook his head. “Ghosts don’t exist, Benny,” he said. He sounded very sure.
The four Alden children—Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny—were sitting around the dining room table with their grandfather. They were discussing their upcoming visit to nearby Elmford. Aunt Jane had invited the children to stay with her while Uncle Andy was away on business.
Grandfather put down his fork. “The Trap-Door Theater was closed years ago, Benny,” he explained. “Sometimes people start talking about ghosts when a building’s been empty for a long time.”
“That’s true,” said Mrs. McGregor, as she came into the room. “It’s been called the haunted theater for as long as I can remember.” She placed a bowl of salad on the table. “From what I’ve heard, they’ve done a wonderful job fixing up the old place.”
Grandfather nodded. “That building was quite an eyesore,” he said. “Now it looks just like it did when it was first built in the late 1800s.”
“Aunt Jane bought tickets for opening night,” Violet told their housekeeper, her eyes shining. “We’ll be seeing a mystery play.”
“And mysteries are our specialty!” added Benny sounding just as excited as his sister. There was nothing the children loved better than a mystery and together they’d managed to solve quite a few.
“I bet you’ll have that mystery figured out before the last act, Benny,” guessed Mrs. McGregor.
“Well, I am very good at sniffing out clues,” Benny admitted.
Henry couldn’t help laughing. “Benny, you’re almost as good at sniffing out clues as you are at sniffing out food!”
“Right!” Benny gave his brother the thumbs-up sign. The youngest Alden was known for his appetite. He was always hungry.
“Aunt Jane had a hunch you’d enjoy a good whodunit,” said Grandfather, as Mrs. McGregor walked out of the room.
“A what?” Benny looked puzzled.
“A whodunit,” Henry repeated. “That’s another name for a mystery, Benny.”
“Oh, I get it,” said Benny, catching on. “They call it a whodunit because you figure out who did it. Right?”
“Right,” said Grandfather, as he passed the salad along. “And the play’s supposed to be a first-rate whodunit. At least, that’s what Aunt Jane tells me.”
“One thing’s for sure,” said Jessie. “It’ll be great to see Aunt Jane again.”
“I’ll second that!” Henry said.
“Yes, it’s been a while since you’ve had a visit.” Grandfather helped himself to the mashed potatoes.
Just then, Watch ran over, wagging his tail.
“Sorry, Watch,” Violet said, petting their family dog softly on the head. “You can’t go with us this time.”
“Dogs aren’t allowed on the train,” said Benny.
“Besides,” put in Violet, “you need to keep Grandfather and Mrs. McGregor company while we’re gone.”
“And look after our boxcar,” added Henry.
After their parents died, the four Alden children had run away. For a while, their home was an old boxcar in the woods. But then their grandfather, James Alden, had found them. He brought his grandchildren to live with him in his big white house in Greenfield. Even the boxcar was given a special place in the backyard. The children often used it as a clubhouse.
“I’ll drop you off at the train station after lunch tomorrow,” said Grandfather. “Aunt Jane will be waiting for you when you arrive in Elmford.”
“Thanks, Grandfather,” said Jessie. “We’ll pack tonight, then we won’t be rushed in the morning.”
The other Aldens smiled at each other. They could always count on Jessie to be organized.
Violet was wondering about something.
“Grandfather, why was the Trap-Door Theater left empty for such a long time?”
“Well, when the theater was first built, Violet,” said Grandfather, “it was Elmford’s pride and joy. Tickets were always sold out. But as the years went by, the building needed repairs. It slowly became more and more rundown. Soon people didn’t want to go there anymore.”
“Why didn’t they do the repairs?” Benny wondered.
“The town of Elmford didn’t have the money, Benny. The council finally closed the theater down.”
“How did they finally get the money to fix it up?” Jessie wondered.
“When Alice Duncan died, she left her money to the town to restore the place,” said Grandfather. “Alice was one of Aunt Jane’s neighbors.”
“What a wonderful thing to do!” said Violet. Jessie nodded. “She saved the old theater.”
“For now, anyway.” Grandfather put down his fork. “Everyone’s hoping the theater will bring tourists into town. But …”
“If it doesn’t,” guessed Henry, “they’ll close it down again?”
“I’m afraid so, Henry. But if the theater brings tourists into town, it’ll be good for everyone.”
“That makes sense,” Henry said after a moment’s thought. “There’ll be more shoppers going in and out of the stores. Right, Grandfather?”
“Right.” Grandfather nodded.
“Oh, I’m sure the play will be a success,” said Violet.
Benny was quick to agree. “Everybody likes a mystery!”
True to her word, Aunt Jane was waiting for the Aldens when their train pulled into Elmford the next day.
“I brought my binoculars for the play, Aunt Jane!” Benny shouted, running up and giving her a hug. Laughing, Aunt Jane returned the hug.
“Don’t worry, Benny,” she said. “We’ll be sitting in the first row. I don’t think you’ll need binoculars.”
“We can’t wait to see what the theater looks like now,” Violet said.
Henry loaded the suitcases into the car and they all got inside.
“Actually, you can take a peek at it right away,” Aunt Jane said. “The theater is just around the corner, so you can see it from the outside. It’s been completely done over.”
“Thanks to your neighbor,” said Henry, sitting up front beside Aunt Jane. “Alice Duncan, I mean.”
“Yes, Alice was a great fan of the theater,” said Aunt Jane. “And a wonderful friend.”
Violet didn’t like to hear the note of sadness in Aunt Jane’s voice. She was trying to think of something cheery to say, but Jessie spoke first.
“I bet Alice would be pleased with all the work that’s been done,” she said.
“Yes, I think she would.” Aunt Jane smiled at Jessie through the rearview mirror. “In the old days, Alice had a seat in the first row for every mystery play. And she always brought her knitting and a bag of popcorn with her for intermission.”
“Wow,” said Benny. “I guess Alice liked mysteries.”
“She sure did, Benny.” Aunt Jane nodded. “As a matter of fact, she even wrote her own mystery plays.”
The children were surprised to hear this.
“Alice Duncan was a writer?” Jessie asked.
“She sure was,” said Aunt Jane. “Whenever we had a cup of tea together, she’d tell me about her latest codes and clues.”
That sounded like fun to Benny. “I bet she was a good writer.”
“The best, Benny,” said Aunt Jane. “And she always put a surprise twist in the last act.”
“Were any of her plays performed in the Trap-Door Theater?” Jessie wondered.
“It was always Alice’s dream to have one of her plays performed.” Aunt Jane sighed. “But sadly, her dream never came true.”
“What a shame!” said Violet.
“Alice wanted to give other writers the chance she never had,” Aunt Jane went on. “That’s why she left her money to the town—on one condition.”
At this, the children were curious. “What was the condition?” Henry wondered.
“That a contest be held every summer. The winner would get a cash award,” said Aunt Jane, “and the winning play would be performed at the Trap-Door Theater.”
“Cool!” said Benny.
“The winner this year is a local college student, Tricia Jenkins. And from what I hear, she can really use the money.”
“Oh?” Henry asked.
“Yes, apparently Tricia’s putting herself through school,” Aunt Jane told them. “She earns extra money working at her computer. They say she’s an expert typist.”
“So, it’s Tricia’s play we’ll be seeing on opening night?” Jessie wondered.
“Yes.” Aunt Jane nodded. “And I’m really looking forward to it. The judges were all very impressed that someone so young could write such a fine play.”
“Then it’s bound to be a big hit,” Henry concluded.
“We’re keeping our fingers crossed, Henry. Nobody wants the theater to close down again,” said Aunt Jane.
“Well, guess what, Aunt Jane?” Benny piped up. “I’m going to clap extra hard at the end of the play—just in case.”
“In case what, Benny?” asked Henry, looking over his shoulder.
“In case the theater really is haunted,” said Benny. “The clapping will drown out all the booing from the ghosts.”
“That’s a good one, Benny,” Henry said, as everyone burst out laughing.
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