“Of course!” Violet cried. “Rilla was wearing the same earrings. When we ran into her in town, I mean.”

  “Are you sure about that, Violet?” Henry asked.

  Violet nodded her head up and down. “I remember how well the stones matched her dress.”

  “But … how did Rilla’s earring get into the paint?” Benny wanted to know.

  Henry had an answer. “It probably fell in when she was leaving that message.”

  “Right before she stole the picture of Patch’s cats out of Jessie’s backpack,” added Violet.

  “You think Rilla is the person who left the message telling us to mind our own business—or else, and stole the picture?” asked Jessie.

  “It had to be her,” Henry insisted. “How else can you explain her earring getting into the paint?”

  “Shouldn’t we tell Abby?” Benny wondered.

  “The problem is,” Jessie told her little brother, “we can’t prove the earring belongs to Rilla.”

  “And she’d never admit it was hers,” added Violet. “Otherwise, she’d have to explain how it got into the paint.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t even know that’s what happened,” Henry said. “Let’s tell her we found her earring and see what happens.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Case Closed

  The Children could hear voices in the living room. “Something’s come up,” Henry said as they went in.

  “What is it, Henry?” asked Grandfather. He was sitting on the couch, with Rilla Washburn perched in a chair nearby. “Is anything wrong?”

  Henry shook his head. “No, but—” “Well, if nothing’s wrong,” Rilla cut in sharply, “I suggest you come back later. We’re trying to have a business meeting here.”

  “We’re sorry to interrupt,” said Jessie, who was always polite. “We’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

  Henry held the earring out to Rilla in the palm of his hand. “We thought this might be yours.”

  “Oh!” Rilla’s face perked up. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that.” She snatched the earring from Henry’s hand. “Where did you find it?”

  “In a can of paint,” Henry answered, watching her closely.

  “What …?” A funny look came over Rilla’s face. “Why, I can’t imagine how—”

  Henry cut in, “Maybe it fell in when you were leaving that message for us.”

  “On one of Abby’s signboards,” added Benny, his hands on his hips.

  “A message on a signboard?” Rilla lifted her hands as if she was confused. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “It was a message telling us to mind our own business,” Jessie reminded her, “or else!”

  “Oh, my goodness!” A look of shock crossed Abby’s face. “What is this about?”

  “You think I’d do such a thing, Abby?” Rilla looked hurt. “I have no idea what these kids are up to,” she added, “but you can be sure they didn’t find this earring in a can of purple paint!”

  “Nobody said it was purple paint,” Violet said quietly. “How did you know that?”

  “Uh, well … I, er …” Rilla struggled to find something to say.

  “Rilla!” Abby cried. “Is this true? Did you leave a threatening message for these children?”

  Rilla opened her mouth, then closed it again. Finally, she slumped back against the cushions. “Yes, I did leave that message, and I feel terrible about it.” She lowered her head and sniffed, pretending to cry.

  Abby was so startled, she needed a few moments to collect her thoughts. “But … why?”

  “That’s just what I was wondering,” Grandfather said sternly.

  Rilla looked up and gave a little smile.

  “It’s really not such a big deal, is it?”

  “You wanted us to stop looking for the treasure, didn’t you?” guessed Violet.

  Rilla didn’t deny it. “Treasure-hunting does sound harmless,” she said. “But I knew it would cause problems later on.”

  “Problems?” Abby looked even more confused. “What kind of problems?”

  Jessie spoke up. “If we found the treasure, there’d be no reason for you to sell the resort, Abby.”

  “And if you didn’t sell the resort to Rilla, then she would miss out on the top sales award again,” added Henry.

  “That’s why Rilla was trying to scare us by leaving us that message, and why she stole the picture Patch left Abby with the riddle leading to the treasure,” added Violet.

  “What?” Rilla exclaimed. “I did nothing of the sort!” Rilla began to defend herself and then quickly gave up as she saw that everyone in the room knew what she had done.

  “Fine,” she said. “When Benny mentioned Jessie had a photo in her backpack with a clue to the treasure written on it, I decided to take it.” Rilla reached into her purse, pulled out the old snapshot, and handed it to Abby. “I couldn’t let anything get in the way of this sale! I’ve missed out on the top sales award too many times, and if I sold this resort, nothing could stop me from winning,” Rilla explained.

  Abby looked hurt. “You know how much this resort means to me, Rilla. I would have hoped our friendship was more important to you than the top sales award.”

  Rilla sat quietly.

  “And that’s not all,” Benny chimed in. “Rilla even made a fake monster to scare us away!”

  “No, I didn’t do any such thing!” Rilla’s dark eyes suddenly flashed. “I don’t know anything about a fake monster.”

  The Aldens looked at each other. They had a feeling Rilla was telling the truth.

  “I did leave that message and I stole the picture, but that’s all,” she went on. “I’m so sorry, Abby. I never meant for this to go so far.”

  “Sorry isn’t enough,” said Abby. “I draw the line at leaving threatening messages for children.”

  “You’re right, Abby. I did get carried away,” said Rilla. “But the resort still needs to be sold. My client made you a good offer.”

  Abby got to her feet. “I’ll have to pass.”

  Rilla waved away Abby’s words. “Now, none of that. We can’t let friendship get in the way of business, can we?” she said. “Or business get in the way of friendship, for that matter.”

  Abby had heard enough. “You and I have different ideas about friendship, Rilla. I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

  “You can’t mean it!”

  “Yes, I do, Rilla.” Abby folded her arms, a no-nonsense look on her face.

  “Fine!” Rilla headed for the door. As she left, she called back, “You won’t be seeing me around here again!”

  “I’m counting on it,” replied Abby.

  As the door slammed shut, Grandfather said, “I guess that’s that.”

  “Actually, it’s a load off my mind, James.” Abby sat down again. “I really wasn’t ready to sell the resort. Not just yet, anyway.”

  “Is the coast clear?” asked Max, sticking his head into the room.

  Nodding, Abby gestured for him to come in. “Rilla’s gone.”

  Max stepped into the room, the painting tucked under his arm. Adam was close behind.

  “It didn’t take you long to close the deal, Abby,” Max remarked, pulling up a chair.

  “I decided not to sell the resort, Max.”

  Max and Adam stared at Abby in surprise. “You mean, you still own the Ogopogo Resort?” Adam wanted to know.

  “For the moment, at least.” Abby quickly explained what had happened. She finished by saying, “When I do sell the resort, it won’t be with Rilla Washburn’s agency. You can be sure of that.”

  “Well, Adam and I brought you a present,” said Max. “We figured it would help cheer you up.”

  “For me?” Abby wasted no time tearing the wrapping away from the package Max handed her. When she caught sight of the painting, she caught her breath. “Oh, my!”

  “Well, look at that!” said Grandfather, admiringly. “It’s the Ogopogo Resort.”
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  “And look!” Abby cried out with delight. “There’s Patch O’Brien’s signature in the corner!”

  “We found it in the cabin,” Adam told her. “So we got it framed.”

  “Thank you so much!” Abby gave them each a warm hug. “Now I’ll have two wonderful treasures.”

  “Two?” Benny looked puzzled.

  “I’m talking about the painting and my wonderful Ogopogo.” Abby looked at the carving of Ogopogo beside the fireplace resting on a special wooden stand.

  “Omigosh!” exclaimed Jessie.

  The others turned to look at her. “What’s the matter, Jessie?”

  “I know where the treasure is!” she told them in an awestruck voice.

  “Where?” Henry wanted to know.

  Everyone followed her gaze to the carving of Ogopogo on the wooden stand.

  “I don’t get it,” said Violet. “You think the carving is the treasure? Is that what you mean, Jessie?”

  “No, Violet.” Jessie shook her head. “I think the treasure’s hidden inside the carving.”

  “There’s just one catch, Jessie,” said Abby. “There’s no way Patch could hide anything inside that Ogopogo carving. It’s made from solid wood.”

  “Oh.” Jessie’s face fell. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling they were on the right track.

  Henry had been thinking. “Unless …”

  “Unless what, Henry?” Violet wanted to know.

  It took Henry a moment to answer. “Unless the treasure’s hidden inside the stand.”

  “Do you mind if we check it out, Abby?” Jessie asked.

  “My grandchildren are seldom wrong when it comes to solving mysteries,” Grandfather was quick to add.

  “Go for it!” Abby exclaimed as everyone gathered round. “Hurry, I can’t stand the suspense!”

  “Careful now,” said Max, giving Henry a hand. Together, they managed to tip the carving onto its side.

  Henry knelt down, then rapped his knuckles against the stand. “Sounds hollow.”

  Jessie noticed something. “Isn’t that a hole on the bottom?” She crouched down beside her older brother to get a closer look.

  Henry nodded. “Just big enough for my finger.”

  “I’ve got a pencil box with a lid that slides open,” said Violet. “Maybe the bottom of the stand slides open, too.”

  “It’s worth a try.” Henry stuck his finger into the hole and pushed with all his might. The base of the stand jerked a little to the side. He pushed again. This time, the base slid far enough to leave a small opening.

  “That should do the trick,” said Grandfather.

  Henry reached into the hollow stand and patted all around.

  “Can you feel anything, Henry?” Benny was bouncing from one foot to the other.

  Henry shook his head. “I don’t—wait!”

  Everyone gasped when Henry pulled out a red velvet pouch. “I think this belongs to you, Abby.” He stood up straight and held it out to her.

  “Oh, my!” cried Abby.

  “That’s not a very big pouch,” said Benny, who sounded a bit disappointed.

  Jessie smiled over at her little brother. “You know what they say, Benny,” she reminded him. “Good things come in small packages.”

  “Well, let’s find out if that old saying is true,” said Abby. She took a deep breath, then shook the contents of the pouch onto the coffee table.

  For a moment, no one said a word. They just stared in amazement. Then Violet whispered, “Diamonds!”

  Abby sank back against the cushions. “Bless his heart!” she said, in a daze. “Patch really did find treasure on a sunken ship, after all!”

  “Those diamonds must be worth a small fortune,” said Max.

  “You’ll have more than enough money to fix up the resort, Abby,” Adam told her.

  “And pay for some advertising,” added Grandfather.

  Abby clasped her hands together. “Yes, it looks like I’ll be keeping the old place after all.”

  “Your grandchildren really saved the day, James,” said Abby. Her smile made the four Aldens feel warm all over.

  But something was still bothering Violet. “If Rilla wasn’t behind the Ogopogo hoax, then who was?”

  “That was me,” Adam said in a small voice.

  All eyes turned to him. “What’s this all about?” asked Max.

  Adam blurted out the truth. “I wanted the Aldens to think they’d seen Ogopogo.”

  “But … how?” Violet’s eyebrows furrowed.

  Adam looked over at her. “You’re wondering how I did it?”

  Violet nodded. “It looked just like—oh!” she cried in sudden understanding. “You used one of Patch’s carvings, didn’t you?”

  Adam didn’t deny it. “I put the carving on the raft, and floated it out into the water.” Then he glanced over at Abby sheepishly. “I just borrowed it from one of the cabins, Abby. I planned to put it back.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Abby. “Why would you try to fool the Aldens?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” Max added with a frown.

  Henry thought he knew the answer to that. “You thought we’d report it to the newspaper, didn’t you?”

  “I was hoping a sighting would bring tourists into town,” Adam confessed.

  Jessie nodded in understanding. No wonder Adam seemed to have changed his mind overnight. He didn’t believe Ogopogo was real, but he wanted the Aldens to believe it did.

  “Oh, I get it,” said Max. “You figured if business picked up, then Abby wouldn’t sell the resort.”

  Adam nodded. “I hadn’t counted on the Aldens figuring out it was a hoax.”

  “I know your heart was in the right place, Adam,” said Abby. “But it’s never a good thing to fool people.”

  Adam looked truly sorry. “I guess I made a big mistake.”

  “Everybody makes mistakes.” Henry told him. “We’ll be here until the end of the week,” he added with a friendly smile. “Maybe we can make a fresh start.”

  Adam smiled. “I’d like that.”

  Abby looked at Adam. “You made a mistake because you were trying to be a friend, and I’m so lucky to have so many friends care about me so much.”

  “There’s no treasure better than a good friend!” said Benny. “Right?”

  “Right!” everyone answered together.

  The Vampire Mystery

  Created by Gertrude Chandler Warner

  Illustrated by Robert Papp

  ALBERT WHITMAN & Company, Chicago

  Contents

  CHAPTER

  Chapter 1 The Greenfield Vampire

  Chapter 2 An Offer to Help

  Chapter 3 A Missing Book

  Chapter 4 Lost!

  Chapter 5 A Vial of Blood?

  Chapter 6 Accused

  Chapter 7 Three Suspects

  Chapter 8 Intruder

  Chapter 9 A Mysterious Photo

  Chapter 10 Caught!

  CHAPTER 1

  The Greenfield Vampire

  “Just this one book please,” six-year-old Benny said. He gave The Legend of the Vampire to the librarian. On the cover was a picture of a scary man in a dark cape. He had two sharp teeth and blood red lips.

  “Oh, Benny, are you sure that is a good book for you?” asked twelve-year-old Jessie. She was twelve and kept an eye on her younger brother. “I could help you pick out another.”

  “No, I want this one, Jessie,” Benny said. “Henry found it in the local author’s section.”

  “It was written by Mr. Charles Hudson,” explained Henry. At fourteen, he was the oldest.

  “Oh!” exclaimed ten-year-old Violet. “Is that the author Grandfather told us about this morning?”

  “I think it is,” Henry said.

  Mrs. Skylar, the librarian, smiled at the four Alden children. “Mr. Hudson is a local author who has written many exciting books. The Legend of the Vampire is one of his best selling stories. It’s se
t right here in Greenfield.”

  Violet shivered. “A vampire in Greenfield?” she asked.

  “Vampires aren’t real, Violet,” Jessie said. She put her arm around her sister’s shoulders.

  “Are you sure?” asked Benny.

  “We’re sure,” Henry said. “Vampires are not real. They’re just part of scary stories that people like to read for fun.”

  “Not real—like ghosts and monsters under your bed?” asked Benny.

  “Yes, exactly like that,” Jessie said.

  “I like scary stories,” Benny said. “They always have mysteries in them!” He opened the book to the first page. “‘The cem … cem …’” Benny was just learning how to read.

  “Cemetery,” Henry helped.

  “‘The cemetery on …’” Benny scratched his forehead.

  Violet looked over his shoulder at the page. “Whittaker Street,” she told her little brother.

  ‘“Was … dark … and …’” Benny sounded out the words. He sighed. “It’s too hard for me. Can you read it to me, Henry?”

  “Sure, Benny,” Henry said. “But it’s getting late now. We promised to meet Grandfather at eleven o’clock.”

  Jessie looked at her watch. “You’re right, Henry.” She handed her library card to Mrs. Skylar and checked out her novel. “Grandfather said that he wanted us to meet an old friend of his.”

  “Do you have the address where Grandfather wants to meet us?” Violet asked.

  Henry patted his pocket. “Yes, I have it,” he said. “I don’t think it’s very far. It’s on the east end of town.”

  “Will we be passing any places to eat on the way?” Benny asked hopefully.

  “Oh, Benny!” Jessie laughed. Benny had a big appetite. “How can you possibly be hungry after all those pancakes Mrs. McGregor made for you this morning?”

  Mrs. McGregor was the Alden’s housekeeper. She was a wonderful cook as well.

  Benny patted his growling stomach. “I don’t know, Jessie,” he said. “I guess that’s one mystery I’ll never be able to solve!”

  The Alden children laughed and hopped on their bikes. In ten minutes they found 52 Whittaker Street. It was an old, quaint house with a small lawn and a blooming flower garden. Grandfather’s car was parked out front. He stood on the pale lavender porch talking to a tall man with white hair and a white mustache.