“We’ll show you where it is,” Henry said, stepping back and holding the door open.
“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” said the man, going past with his odd, bouncy step. He bounded down the steps and around the corner down the hall. Henry and Violet had to move fast to keep up. They barely made it to the kitchen before the back door slammed shut behind the odd visitor.
“How strange,” said Violet.
“Yes,” agreed Henry. “And I don’t think he really was looking for the bathroom.”
Violet and Henry locked the door carefully behind them and headed back to the yard sale.
People were everywhere. But the bouncy man was nowhere to be seen.
“Where have you been?” Jessie cried as they walked toward her. She was kneeling, pulling boxes from beneath a table. “We need to put the rest of these books out on this table. And Lina needs someone to be the treasurer while she takes a break. And — ”
An elderly couple interrupted her to ask the price of a lamp.
“I’ll help with the books,” Henry said.
Violet nodded. “I’ll give Lina a break,” she said. She added in a lower voice, “We can tell them about the bouncy man when the yard sale is over.”
By noon, most of the things were sold, and Lina’s cash box was fall of money. People still kept coming, though, and asking about the treasure.
At last, Henry made a sign that said YARD SALE OVER, put it on the fence, and shut the gate tight.
“I think we can begin counting the money,” Lina said.
“Let’s put everything we didn’t sell into a box and just give it away,” said Benny.
“Good idea,” said Lina. “We can leave the box outside the gate.”
Henry picked up a big cardboard box and walked to the nearest table.
“I’ll help,” said Benny. He hurried over to the table and scooped a deck of cards and some magazines into the box. At the next table, they piled in some small, chipped dishes.
At the third table, they found a woman with curly red hair kneeling by a box of old clothes.
“Oh!” said Benny when he saw the woman.
The woman looked up and smiled. “How much for this box of old clothes?” she said.
“We were going to put it all in our free box,” Benny said. “The yard sale is over.”
“I wish I could have gotten here sooner, but I couldn’t leave work,” the woman said. She looked down at the box. “Free is good, but let me at least pay something. Do you think two dollars is fair?”
“Sure,” said Henry. “You can pay Lina. She’s over there.”
“I’ll do that,” the woman said, with a smile. She had brown eyes that crinkled at the corners. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to look through a couple more boxes.”
“Okay,” said Benny.
Henry and Benny finished filling their box and left it outside the gate under a sign that said FREE. Then they walked back to the table where Lina, Jessie, and Violet stood. The red-haired woman was still there, too. She had the box of old clothes propped on one hip. An old basket stood at her feet.
Benny looked down at the basket. It was full of cut-up bits of clothes and torn rags.
“Are you buying that, too?” he asked.
The woman nodded and smiled. “I can use the scraps,” she said. She paused, then said, “So, is this all that you’re selling?”
“Well, for the time being,” said Lina. “I still have rooms of furniture I need to go through, and a few other things to sort out.”
The woman studied Lina, then glanced down at the basket, as if she might be about to say something in reply. But she didn’t.
“I could help you carry the box and the basket to your car,” Henry offered.
“No, no, no, thank you. I’m strong from all the lifting I do at my store,” the woman said.
“Store?” said Benny.
“I’m Coral Weaver, owner of Weaver Stitch Shop,” said the woman. “I sell everything for people who like to sew. And I’m one of the founding members of the Crazy Quilters Club.” She patted the box. “That’s what these scraps are for. They’ll make a great quilt.”
“Crazy quilters?” said Benny.
“We read about crazy quilts at the library, Benny, remember?” said Violet. “They’re quilts without a pattern, made of all kinds and shapes of cloth stitched together.”
“That’s right!” Coral said, looking pleased. “You like quilts?”
“Yes,” said Violet. “They’re beautiful.”
“Lina’s Great-great-aunt Hope was a crazy quilter, too,” said Benny. “But her quilts are all made from patterns.”
“I’d love to see them,” Coral said. She gave Lina a hopeful look.
“Maybe some other time,” said Lina.
“If they’re still up in the attic, I don’t mind climbing stairs,” Coral said. “Really, I don’t.”
Lina looked startled. “How did you know they’re in the attic?” she said.
“I love quilts,” Coral said, ignoring the question. “The old ones are so beautiful, so full of stories — I always wonder about the lives of the women who made them. There’s a story in every stitch. Stories of engagements, weddings, births, friendships, even deaths.” Coral smiled. “It’s kind of crazy, I know, but then, some people do call me the crazy quilt lady. Get it? Crazy quilt lady?”
Lina smiled back. “I love quilts, too,” she said.
Coral sighed. “Well, I’d better be going. But come to my shop. I’ll tell you everything you need to know about quilts. I’ll even show you how to make one.”
“That would be fun,” said Jessie.
“Is it hard?” asked Violet.
“Not at all,” said Coral. “Nothing you love to do is hard, don’t you know?”
“I never thought about it that way,” said Jessie.
“South Street, just around the corner from the bank,” Coral said as she picked up her basket. “Come anytime.”
“We will,” Jessie promised.
Coral nodded, smiled one last time, and headed for her car.
As the gate swung closed behind Coral, Lina snapped the cash box shut.
“Crazy quilt lady,” she said. She shook her head. “That’s the way I’m beginning to feel, too.”
CHAPTER 7
Without a Clue
“Lina,” Violet said as the Aldens followed Lina to the house, “there’s something Henry and I need to tell you.”
Henry nodded solemnly. He and Violet quickly filled in the others on the man with the bouncy walk who had sneaked into Lina’s house during the yard sale.
When they had finished the story, Jessie asked, “Do you think it was the same person who tried to break in before?”
“Could be,” said Henry. “He was definitely searching for something, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the bathroom.”
“He was looking in the closet and at the stuff on your dresser,” Violet added.
“Bouncy walk, bushy eyebrows, neat dresser, did you say? He didn’t buy anything,” Lina said, “or I’d have remembered him.”
“I noticed him at the yard sale. He inspected all of the china and vases really carefully,” Jessie said.
Just then the phone rang. Lina dashed into the house to answer it. Through the open door, the Aldens heard her say, “Yes, Regina, of course I remember you. No, not today, I’m too tired. Tomorrow isn’t good for me, either. No. No! Fine, call me Monday morning. Good-bye.”
Lina came out, shaking her head. “That reporter, she doesn’t give up. She keeps pestering me to let her into the attic again and tell her more about the quilts.”
Benny, who had been thinking hard, said suddenly, “I saw him. That bouncy man. I saw him with Coral.”
“You did?” said Henry. Everyone looked at Benny.
“Yes. During the yard sale,” said Benny.
“When? Coral didn’t get to the yard sale until late,” Henry said. “The man was gone by then.”
 
; Benny thought, then said, “It wasn’t late, but it wasn’t early. I saw him arrive. He got out of her car, and she drove away.”
“Benny, are you sure?” Violet said.
Benny nodded firmly. “I remember her red hair.”
“Well, Coral did know that the quilts were in the attic,” Jessie said. “If she and that man are in this together, that explains it… unless it was a lucky guess.”
Lina sighed. “A crazy quilt lady, a bouncy snoop, a mysterious wannabe burglar, and a news reporter who won’t take no for an answer,” she said. “Maybe I should just call Mr. Munsey and tell him to take the quilts, at least for now.”
“But what if Mr. Munsey is the one who told the burglar about the quilts? Or what if he is the burglar?” Violet said. “Remember, he’s the only one we told — and then Regina showed up.”
“Let’s try to talk to Mr. Munsey,” said Henry. “We’ll visit Coral at her shop, too, and see if we can pick up any clues.”
“Meanwhile, I think we should hide the quilts,” Jessie said, “to keep them safe.”
“Where?” asked Violet.
“I think I have an idea,” Jessie said. “Come on!”
A short time later, she was smoothing one side of the old hops quilt while Violet tugged and straightened the corner of the other side.
All six quilts had been layered on the bed in the room across the hall from Lina’s. The old hops quilt was spread out over them.
“No one will think to look for more quilts underneath this old one,” said Lina. “Good idea, Jessie.”
“And no one will be able to sneak by, even if they do get in to steal the quilts,” said Benny. “This floor is nice and creaky!”
“Yes,” agreed Jessie. “One way or another, the quilts will be safe.”
As the Aldens walked home from Lina’s, they discussed what to do next. “The museum closes early on Saturdays,” Jessie said. “That means Mr. Munsey won’t be there now.”
“Then we can’t ask him any questions, at least today,” Henry said.
Violet sighed. “And we don’t know who Mr. Bouncy is,” she said, “or where to find him.”
“The crazy quilt lady does,” Benny said.
“You’re right, Benny,” said Jessie. “She does. Let’s hurry down to her shop before it closes for the day.”
“Come on!” said Henry.
The Aldens ran the rest of the way home and hopped on their bicycles. Pedaling fast, they were soon downtown.
“There’s Weaver Stitch Shop,” Violet said. She led the way to a bike rack on the corner.
“Look!” said Violet. “Mr. Bouncy.”
The Aldens stared as a neatly dressed man in a polo shirt and khakis walked out the door of the Stitch Shop. He bobbed across the street, pushed open the door of another shop, and went inside. Jessie looked at the fancy gold lettering on the shop’s window and read aloud, “Grey’s Fine Antiques.”
“You were right, Benny. Coral does know that man,” Henry said.
“But who is he?” asked Benny.
“Let’s go find out,” Jessie said.
They went into the Stitch Shop to find Coral sitting in a worn overstuffed chair with the basket of scraps at her feet. There were no customers.
Coral looked up and gave a little start as they came in.
“Oh!” she said. She laughed but it sounded forced. “You came to visit a lot more quickly than I expected.”
“Have you found any good scraps?” asked Violet.
“Good scraps? Oh, these.” Coral looked down at the basket, then looked away. She seemed jumpy.
“Is everything okay?” asked Jessie.
“Of course, of course,” said Coral. She nudged the basket to one side with her foot and stood up. “How do you like my shop?” she asked.
They looked around. It was a colorful place with cozy chairs, a bright quilt on one wall, racks of thread and sewing supplies, a cabinet labeled PATTERNS, another labeled PROJECTS, and lots and lots of cloth.
“What’s that up there?” asked Benny, pointing to a large wooden frame that looked sort of like a bed frame. It was suspended from the ceiling above them.
“That? That’s a quilting frame,” Coral said. “You stretch the top and bottom of a quilt across it and stitch them together. At least that’s one way to do it. I can raise and lower it when I need to, so it doesn’t take up room in the shop.”
“This place is wonderful,” Violet said. She ran her fingers across some pretty purple cloth and thought she might like to make a quilt in that color, to match the violet flowers on her wallpaper.
Coral talked some more about quilting, and all four of the Aldens asked lots of questions. The more she talked, the more excited Coral got. She knew the answer to every question.
“I think she must know as much as Mr. Munsey,” Jessie said softly to Henry.
“Maybe more,” Henry whispered back. To Coral, he said, “Do many men make quilts?”
“More and more,” Coral said. She didn’t seem so nervous now.
“I wondered,” Henry went on, “because we saw a man coming out of your shop, and we were wondering if he makes quilts.”
Coral thought for a moment. “A man coming of the shop this afternoon?” she said slowly.
“Yes, just before we came in. He has short hair and thick eyebrows, and he walks with a sort of bounce,” said Violet.
“Oh! That’s Dirk Grey,” said Coral. “He owns the antique shop across the street.”
“We thought we saw him at the yard sale this morning, too,” Violet said.
“Yes, he was at the sale,” Coral said. “I gave him a ride — well, a ride from his car. He’d parked down the street from the house because there were so many other cars, and I decided to take a look at where the sale was on my way to my store.” Coral smiled.
“Oh,” said Benny, and the disappointment in his voice mirrored what the others were feeling. There was nothing suspicious about Coral Weaver and Dirk Grey meeting before the sale that morning.
“I know a man who likes quilts,” Jessie said. “Mr. Munsey. Do you know him?”
“The name doesn’t sound familiar,” Coral said, “but I’m terrible with names.”
“Oh,” Jessie said, her voice as disappointed as Benny’s.
“Well, thank you for dropping by,” Coral said, suddenly sounding as if she was in a hurry. “Come again.” She followed the Aldens to the door — and closed it behind them. When Jessie glanced back, she saw Coral hang up the CLOSED sign.
“I got the feeling that Coral wanted us out of there all of the sudden,” said Henry.
“Yes, me, too!” Jessie exclaimed. “And look — according to the sign, the store should be open for another half hour.”
“She was acting funny,” Benny said, “especially when we came in.”
“But she seemed to like talking about quiltmaking,” Violet pointed out.
“You’re right,” said Jessie. She paused, then added, “Maybe she was nervous when we got there because of Mr. Grey. He’d just left, remember?”
“Could be,” Henry said. “And maybe she wanted us to leave before we could ask her more about him.”
“I think we should talk to Mr. Grey,” said Jessie.
“Hold my hand while we cross the street, Benny,” Violet said. She led the way.
Dirk Grey’s shop was still open, and they could see him inside, sitting behind a desk. Jessie pushed open the door and went inside.
Mr. Grey looked up. The smile on his lips faded when he saw Violet and Henry with Jessie and Benny.
“May I help you?” he said, his voice cool.
“Hello, Mr. Grey,” said Henry.
Mr. Grey glanced at the lettering on his window and nodded. “You’re right. I’m Dirk Grey and this is my shop.” He stopped and waited.
“You were at our yard sale this morning. In the house,” Henry said.
“I was,” agreed Mr. Grey.
“What were you looking for?” asked
Jessie.
The man shrugged. “I’m an antique dealer. I was curious to see if there was anything in the house that I might want to buy.” He paused. “Old clothes, furniture, knickknacks, quilts, maybe. Anything of value.”
“You shouldn’t have gone sneaking in like that,” said Violet. “You should have asked.”
“Maybe not, but it didn’t do any harm,” said Mr. Grey. He didn’t sound at all sorry.
“You don’t know anyone named Edward Munsey, do you?” Jessie asked suddenly.
“Munsey?” Mr. Grey repeated. His eyes shifted. Then he said, “Antique dealer?”
“No,” said Jessie. “He works for the state museum.”
“Ah. I thought the name sounded slightly familiar,” said Mr. Grey. “I have friends who own antique shops near that museum. That’s probably where I heard it.”
The phone on Mr. Grey’s desk rang. He reached for it. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said to the Aldens. “Have a nice day.”
There was nothing to do but leave.
Henry, Jessie, Benny, and Violet headed for home. They didn’t pedal as fast this time. They didn’t have to hurry. They could talk as they rode their bikes.
“I don’t like Mr. Grey,” said Benny.
“He doesn’t seem very honest,” Henry agreed.
“He admitted to sneaking into Lina’s house to look around,” Violet added.
“But was he really looking for the quilts? I didn’t notice any quilts in his shop, just furniture and lots of china and glass,” Jessie said.
“You’re right!” said Violet.
“Maybe he was searching for the hidden treasure,” Benny said.
“I think he does know who Mr. Munsey is,” Henry said. “I don’t think he told us the truth.”
“Do you think Mr. Grey and Mr. Munsey could be working together? Mr. Grey could have been the one who tried to break in…” Jessie’s voice trailed off.
“To get the quilts for Mr. Munsey,” Henry finished for her. “But how does Regina Lott fit in all this? How did she hear about the quilts and the treasure?”
“And what is the treasure?” Benny added.
“What about Coral?” asked Violet. “She’s a quilt expert, too, but she doesn’t know Mr. Munsey. Or at least she says she doesn’t.”