The Ghost of the Chattering Bones

  “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.

  CHAPTER 8

  What’s Wrong with This Picture?

  The moment Nora and Mrs. McGregor came through the door, Jessie told them about the missing photograph. “I’m so sorry, Norah,” she said. “I know how much it meant to you. I just don’t understand what happened.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Mrs. McGregor, in a concerned voice. “First the tape recorder, and now the photograph. What more can happen?”

  “Don’t you worry,” Norah said kindly, patting Jessie’s arm. “It just so happens I made copies to give out to relatives.”

  “Oh!” The frown left Jessie’s face.

  “Besides,” Norah added as she started up the stairs behind Mrs. McGregor, “it’s bound to show up. After all, it has no value to anyone but the family.”

  The Aldens exchanged a look. Norah didn’t realize the photograph could be an important piece of the puzzle. It had value to anyone who was after the brooch.

  “There’s at least a dozen copies in my desk drawer,” she called down to them. “The den’s at the end of the hall, kids. Go in and help yourself.”

  “Let’s check it out,” said Jessie, who was back to her usual cheery self.

  With that, the four children headed along the hall. As they got closer to the den, they noticed the door was open a few inches. They heard a familiar voice.

  “I’m telling you, it’s a foolproof plan.” This was Annette speaking. “Nobody suspects a thing.”

  The Aldens didn’t like the sound of this. They knew it wasn’t right to eavesdrop, but in this case, they felt they were doing it for a good cause.

  “No … they won’t be a problem anymore,” Annette was saying. “What’s that? … We’ll leave no stone unturned?” She was laughing loudly now. “That’s a good one!”

  “Did you hear that?” Jessie asked the others, as they walked back along the hall.

  Henry nodded. “It sounds like Annette’s up to something.”

  “And she was asking about the mystery today, too,” added Jessie. “That’s kind of fishy, don’t you think?”

  “It was suspicious,” admitted Violet.

  Benny looked over at his brother and sisters. “Shouldn’t we warn Norah?”

  “It is a pretty strong case against Annette,” admitted Violet. “But we can’t be sure what she was talking about on the phone.”

  Henry agreed. “And Norah would never believe she was up to anything—not without hard evidence.”

  “You’re right, Henry,” Jessie said. “It’s one thing to suspect someone. It’s another thing to have proof.”

  That evening, Norah, Mrs. McGregor, Pam, and the Aldens went to a baseball game and cheered for the hometown team. Even Pam couldn’t help getting into the spirit of things. The game went into extra innings, and it was late by the time they finally returned to Eton Place.

  After getting ready for bed, the Aldens got together for another late-night meeting. “I wonder who she was talking to on the phone,” said Benny, still thinking about Annette.

  Henry answered first. “Spence Morton comes to mind.”

  “You think Annette and Spence are working together, Henry?” Jessie asked in surprise.

  “Could be,” he said.

  “Annette and Spence?” Benny repeated, not understanding. “But Spence left town, remember?”

  “Maybe that’s just what he wants us to believe,” suggested Henry.

  Violet thought about this for a moment, then she nodded. “I guess it’s possible he was trying to throw us off the track.”

  “Exactly,” said Henry. “So nobody would suspect him.”

  Violet tucked her brown hair behind her ears. “Maybe it isn’t the bridge he really wants.”

  “What do you mean, Violet?” Benny wondered.

  “It’s possible Spence is after Meg’s brooch.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that!” said Benny.

  Just then, Jessie remembered something. She quickly told her sister and brothers about hearing someone in the hall outside the living room.

  “Do you think somebody was spying on us?” Benny said.

  Jessie had to admit it was possible.

  “I wonder how much he—or she—overheard,” said Violet, sounding a little uneasy.

  “Enough to know the photograph was an important part of the mystery,” Jessie responded.

  The others nodded. No one would go to the trouble of stealing the photograph unless they knew it would help them find the brooch.

  Henry had something to add. “Remember Annette saying on the phone, ‘They won’t be a problem anymore’?”

  Benny nodded. So did Jessie and Violet.

  “You think Annette was talking about us, Henry?” Violet asked.

  “Yes,” said Henry. “I have a hunch she was.”

  “I guess she thinks we can’t solve the mystery without the photograph,” added Jes
sie.

  Henry nodded. “It’s possible she took it without realizing there were copies.”

  “There’s something I don’t understand,” Benny said thoughtfully. “Annette was the one who found the picture in the attic, right? If she wanted to steal it, why didn’t she just take it then?”

  “Maybe she didn’t think it was important at the time,” offered Violet.

  “First thing tomorrow we’ll get hold of one of the copies.” Henry stretched and yawned. “Right now I’m too tired to think straight.” With that, they decided to call it a day.

  When Violet climbed into bed, her thoughts turned once again to the photograph of Stone Pool. She still had the nagging feeling that something was wrong. But what was it? She tucked the thought in the back of her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

  In the middle of the night, Violet cried out, “That’s it!” She sat bolt upright in bed as the answer suddenly came to her. “That’s why it was underlined three times!”

  “Hmm …?” Jessie looked over at her sister.

  “I just figured out what’s wrong with the photograph!” Violet threw back her covers and jumped out of bed. “Come on, Jessie. This can’t wait until morning.”

  After rousing Henry and Benny, Jessie and Violet led the way down to the den. Sure enough, they found copies of the Stone Pool photograph tucked into Norah’s desk drawer.

  “So, what’s going on, Violet?” Henry wanted to know.

  “Think about this,” Violet said, as they sat down on a little sofa. “The photograph’s supposed to be from 1810. Right?”

  Jessie, who was sitting in a circle of light from the lamp, glanced at the words in the old-fashioned script. “That’s what it says.”

  “The problem is,” Violet told them, “photography didn’t come into use until the 1820s!”

  Jessie blinked in surprise. “Then the photograph couldn’t have been taken in 1810.”

  Violet nodded. “Meg got the date wrong.”

  “That’s kind of weird.” Benny wrinkled his forehead. “Do you think we found another clue?”

  “I sure do!” Henry slapped Violet a high-five. So did Jessie and Benny.

  “But … what does it mean?” put in Benny.

  Nobody said anything for a while. They were all lost in thought. Finally Henry spoke up. “Are there any other mistakes?”

  “I’m not sure,” Violet said. “That was the only thing I noticed.”

  Bending over the photograph, Henry said ‘hmmm’ several times.

  “What do you see?” Jessie asked, looking over his shoulder.

  Henry didn’t answer.

  “Henry?” Jessie asked again.

  “This is getting weirder and weirder.” He ran his finger under the words in white ink. “It says the photograph was taken in the afternoon.”

  “What’s weird about that, Henry?” asked Violet

  “The clock tower in the background says ten o’clock. The photograph couldn’t have been taken in the afternoon. It was taken in the morning!”

  “You’re right, Henry,” Violet cried.

  “I just noticed something else.” Jessie looked up from the photograph. “There’s no way this picture was taken in the summer.”

  “What makes you say that, Jessie?” asked Violet.

  “Look at the trees.”

  With their heads close together, the others took another look.

  “No leaves!” Benny exclaimed in amazement. “The trees are bare.”

  “And there’s smoke coming from the chimneys,” added Henry. “Did you notice?”

  Violet bent closer. “Now that you mention it …”

  “Let’s go over everything.” Henry ticked off what they knew on one hand. “This picture wasn’t taken in the afternoon. It wasn’t in the summer. And it wasn’t 1810.”

  The children looked at one another. How did Meg get so much wrong?

  “I guess Jon Eton wasn’t the only one who made mistakes,” Benny pointed out.

  “Jon Eton?” Henry gave his little brother a questioning look.

  “He made a mistake about the bridge,” Benny explained. “Remember?”

  The Aldens suddenly stared at each other. “Jon’s Blunder!” they all cried out in unison.

  “I can’t believe it!” said Violet. “Meg made all these mistakes on purpose. Her blunders were supposed to point the way to the bridge!”

  “It all adds up,” said Jessie. “Norah said the brooch disappeared around the time the men were working on the bridge. We’re lucky Benny mentioned Jon’s Blunder.”

  “Do you think …” Henry paused for a moment to sort out his thoughts. “Do you think Meg’s brooch is hidden behind one of the stones?”

  Jessie bit her lip. “If so, we have a big problem on our hands.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Henry.

  “Remember what else Annette said on the phone?” Jessie looked around at them. “She said, ‘We’ll leave no stone unturned’.”

  Benny nodded. “And then she laughed.”

  Violet caught her breath in sudden understanding. “She knows!”

  “Knows what?” Benny looked confused.

  “Annette might have meant that the brooch could be hidden somewhere in Jon’s Blunder,” Henry informed his little brother.

  Benny’s jaw dropped. “Uh-oh.”

  “That would explain Spence’s interest in the bridge,” Violet realized.

  Jessie said, “There’s only one thing to do.”

  The others looked at her. “What’s that, Jessie?” Benny said.

  “Find the hiding place first!” she said.

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” The youngest Alden was already heading for the door.

  CHAPTER 9

  Thief!

  As they stepped outside, Henry was about to say something when Benny grabbed his arm. “What’s that?”

  Everyone turned to see where Benny was pointing. At the top of the bridge, a light flickered and vanished. There wasn’t time to decide what to do. On the spur of the moment, Henry clicked off the flashlight and they made a dash for the nearby bushes.

  The children crouched in the long grass, their eyes fixed on the shadowy figures standing in the middle of the bridge.

  The muffled sounds of conversation reached their ears, but they were too far away to make out what was being said.

  Benny whispered, “Maybe it’s Annette and Spence! They might be looking for the secret hiding place.”

  Before anyone had a chance to comment, they heard a noise—it sounded as if someone were hacking away at the bridge!

  “Oh, no!” Violet’s eyes were huge.

  Benny jumped up to peer over the bushes, but Jessie stopped him in time. “Stay down, Benny.”

  “But … somebody’s tearing the bridge apart!” he cried, almost shouting. “What should we do?”

  Henry said, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I think it’s time to find out.”

  “Let’s get closer,” Jessie suggested. “Maybe we can hear what they’re saying.”

  Keeping down, they crept cautiously forward. Then in a sudden burst of speed, they raced for another cluster of shrubs.

  “Can’t you work faster?” someone was saying. It was Annette!

  “Give me a break!” came a grumbling male voice. It was clear the man was jabbing at the mortar that held the stones together. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  “The mortar’s old and crumbling,” Annette was saying. “Should be easy enough to get that stone out.”

  The Aldens looked at each other in alarm.

  “I’m counting on your hunch being right,” the man said. “Everything depends on it.”

  “I’m telling you, that plaque’s the final clue,” said Annette. “The hiding place is right behind that stone.”

  Jessie looked at Henry. It hadn’t occurred to them before, but it made sense. After all, didn’t the clues lead to Jon’s Blunder? Wasn’t that the name on the bronze plaque bolted to
one of the stones?

  All of a sudden, the battering noise stopped. “I think the stone’s ready to come out,” the man said. “Keep your fingers crossed.”

  “Thief!” Benny shouted. In a flash, he had scooted out from behind the shrubbery. There was no stopping him.

  The time for action had come. Henry and Benny raced onto the bridge from one side, Violet and Jessie from the other. Annette whirled around so suddenly, she dropped her flashlight. It rolled along the bridge.

  “Who’s there?” she shouted, blinded by Henry’s flashlight.

  “The Aldens,” Jessie answered.

  “I should’ve known!” Annette said. “This has nothing to do with you.” She made a shooing motion with her hand.

  Henry looked her straight in the eye. “We’re not going anywhere.” Then he shone the flashlight’s beam on the man nearby.

  The Aldens could hardly believe their eyes! It wasn’t Spence Morton. It was Bob Ferber!

  “You’re the man from the potluck dinner,” Violet said in surprise.

  But Bob Ferber paid no attention to the Aldens. Instead, he plunged his hand into the dark space where the stone had been.

  “Nothing!” He turned around, empty-handed. “Absolutely nothing.”

  Annette’s jaw dropped. “How can that be?”

  “You tell me!” Bob shot back. “You always seem to know so much.”

  “This is all your fault!” Now Annette was almost shouting. “You and your crazy ideas.”

  Just then, the bare bulb over the back door flicked on. Norah and Mrs. McGregor rushed out, pulling their robes around them. Half-walking and half-running, they hurried over to the bridge.

  “Well, what’s all the fuss … oh, my …” Norah stopped and stared at the gaping hole where the stone had been.

  “What in heaven’s name is going on?” Mrs. McGregor demanded.

  “They’re trying to steal Meg’s brooch!” Benny said accusingly.

  Norah looked from Annette to Bob and back again. “You two know each other?”

  Bob struggled to find something to say. “Uh, well … I, er …” Suddenly, he stopped talking. His shoulders slumped and he leaned against the bridge, looking defeated. “Annette Tanning is my cousin.” He could hardly look at Norah.