Henry suddenly laughed. “Could be, Benny. But we can’t prove it.”
He went back to join Jessie and Violet. “You heard what Benny said,” Henry told them. “We have to count Mr. Bush as a suspect, too.”
Violet sighed. “This isn’t good,” she said. “We still have three suspects. We still don’t know who’s trying to sabotage the Ice Cream Barn. I wish we could find out, before anything else happens.”
Sometimes wishes come true. But this time, Violet’s wish didn’t.
CHAPTER 6
Nasty Notes and Sticky Clues
Katy met them at the door of the shop. In each hand, she held several slips of paper. “Can you believe this? Some people!” she fumed, waving the papers in the air.
“What is it, Granna?” asked Brianna, jumping quickly down from the wagon and tying Butterscotch to the front step rail.
“Someone stuffed the suggestion box full of blank slips of paper,” said Katy. “I noticed all our suggestion slips were gone—and the pencil, if you can believe that—so I opened the box and found this.”
She stormed back inside, followed by Brianna and the Aldens. The top of the suggestion box was open. Dozens of suggestion slips had been crammed inside.
“They’re not all blank,” said Henry. “This one says, ‘Caramel is my favorite flavor. Make ice cream with caramel in it.’ ”
“And this one says, ‘Can you make bubble gum ice cream?’ ” Brianna read.
“Ick,” said Violet.
“I don’t know,” said Jessie. “It doesn’t sound so bad.”
Katy made a face. “It takes all kinds,” she said.
“Here’s another. It says...” Violet’s voice trailed off.
Brianna read over her shoulder. “ ‘You’re a terrible ice-cream shop. Why don’t you close and give someone who knows how to make ice cream a chance?’ ”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” said Benny.
“And this one says, ‘Greenfield doesn’t need a new, improved Ice Cream Barn. No matter how much you improve, you’ll still be no good. Give up now.’ ”
“That’s not true!” said Brianna furiously. “And we’re not giving up.”
“Do you recognize the handwriting?” Henry asked Brianna and Katy.
“If I did, do you think I’d just be standing here?” Katy said. “Besides, the writer has obviously tried to disguise it. Look at those big block letters.”
Just then the phone rang. Katy picked it up. “Ice Cream Barn,” she said. She didn’t sound as cheerful as she usually did. She listened and frowned. “No...No!...The answer will always be no. I already told you. I—we—don’t want to be a big business!”
When Katy hung up, she turned to Brianna. “That Jean Johnston keeps calling. I wish she would stop! Her ideas are good, but she just won’t listen when I tell her we don’t want to make the Ice Cream Barn into that kind of business.”
Brianna made a face.
“Did you notice anyone hanging around the suggestion box?” asked Jessie, getting back to the business of finding clues. “Marcos? Preston? Someone else?”
“Marcos? He was in earlier to try out the new flavor, just as he usually does. But he didn’t go near the suggestion box. And I haven’t seen Preston for a while.” Katy looked puzzled. “But it’s been so busy today. The ice-cream wagon has brought in a lot of new customers lately. When it was busy I hardly looked up, and when it was quiet I went to the back to work on new flavor ideas. I just came out whenever I heard the bell ring or saw a customer who needed ice cream.”
Brianna shook her head in disgust. “Disguised handwriting. Nasty notes. Crank calls about Butterscotch...Okay, I’m beginning to be convinced that this is more than someone’s idea of a joke.”
“Preston, Marcos, Mr. Bush,” said Jessie as the Aldens sat on the porch that night after dinner. Grandfather rocked quietly in the swing, with Benny yawning and leaning against him.
“Mr. Bush,” murmured Benny sleepily.
“He’s a good suspect,” said Jessie. “He’s been around every time something has happened. He knew we’d put up the posters. He’d already complained about Butterscotch even before someone called the police today. He could have stuffed the suggestion box without Katy noticing.”
“Preston, too,” said Violet.
“Didn’t you tell me Katy said she hadn’t seen Preston?” Grandfather asked.
“Yes, but maybe he sneaked in when it was really busy. In disguise,” argued Violet.
“He could have,” Henry said doubtfully. “But don’t you think Katy would have recognized him?”
“A hat, dark glasses, a fake mustache,” Violet began, then suddenly giggled. “Wow, Preston would look pretty silly, wouldn’t he?”
“It would be the kind of disguise everyone would notice,” added Henry. “And Katy and Brianna still seem to trust Preston.”
“So we move Preston to the bottom of our list of suspects,” said Jessie. “That still leaves Marcos.”
“Yes,” agreed Violet. “But I still feel like we’re missing a very important clue. I’d like to go to the shop tomorrow morning to ask Katy a few more questions.”
But the Aldens were in for a shock when they reached the Ice Cream Barn early the next day. A big sign was stuck to the front door. CLOSED, the sign read. OUT OF BUSINESS.
“What?” gasped Violet.
“There are more signs over here. They’re all over the place!” Benny cried.
Sure enough, almost the entire front of the Ice Cream Barn had been plastered with CLOSED and OUT OF BUSINESS signs.
“I don’t understand,” Henry said.
Katy and Brianna drove up and parked the car. Katy got out, holding a grocery bag. She stopped. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment.
“Is it true?” Benny asked. “Are you closed?”
At the same time, Katy said, “What’s this? Who did this to the Ice Cream Barn?”
They were all silent for several long moments. Katy and Brianna stared speechlessly at their shop. The Aldens looked from the shop to Katy and Brianna, and then back again.
Finally Henry said, “You didn’t do this?”
“No!” said Katy. She shut the car door, hard. “I sure didn’t.”
“I don’t believe this,” Brianna said. Her lips tightened. “It’s going to take forever to get all those signs down. Those aren’t just taped up. They look glued.”
“No, it won’t,” Benny said. “We’ll help.”
Brianna smiled a little at this. “Thanks, Benny.”
“We’d better get started,” said Jessie. “Leaving those signs up is bad for business.”
They all worked hard, and as fast as they could. But it still took them all morning to get the sticky signs off the door and windows. After they got the signs down, they scraped off the glue. Finally, they washed and polished all the glass.
“This is what I don’t want to be when I grow up,” Benny said. “A window washer!”
“It’s hard work,” agreed Violet.
A navy blue car pulled to the curb. A short man in a pinstripe suit got out stiffly. He looked at the Aldens and Brianna and Katy and at the buckets and towels and rags. He looked at the freshly cleaned windows. “Nice windows,” he said. “Where could I find the proprietor of this shop?”
“If you mean you want to talk to the boss, that’s me,” Katy said. “Who are you?”
“Gerald Smithers, National Sugar Shop Corporation,” the man said, extending a hand.
Katy dried her hand and shook his. “I’ve already told someone from your company that I’m not interested in selling this place.”
“So I understand,” Mr. Smithers said smoothly. “I came to see if you’ve reconsidered.”
“You’re wasting your time,” said Katy. “I said I won’t sell my business and I’m not going to.”
Mr. Smithers fished in his pocket and brought out a business card. He held it out and Henry, who was closest, took it. “If you change your mind...when you
change your mind...give me a call,” Mr. Smithers said. He smiled at them all, got in his car, and drove away.
“You want this card?” Henry asked Katy. Katy shook her head.
“Well,” Brianna said as the car disappeared from sight. “We’ve got clean windows and an empty suggestion box. Who’s ready for ice cream?”
“It’s been two days, and I’ve still got glue stuck to me from all those signs in the windows of the Ice Cream Barn,” Jessie complained. She was sitting on the stump that served as a step up into the old red boxcar in the backyard.
“It makes it easy to catch the Frisbee,” Benny said. He, Henry, Violet, and Watch were playing Frisbee.
“It’s been quiet at the Ice Cream Barn the last couple days,” Henry noted. “Maybe whoever was playing all those nasty tricks has decided to give up after all.”
“Maybe,” said Jessie thoughtfully. “Or maybe they’re planning something really big.”
Henry caught the Frisbee and held it. He stared at his sister. “What do think might happen?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Jessie. “But ever since I saw that man from the National Sugar Shop, I’ve felt, I don’t know, funny. He seemed so confident that Katy would give up and sell the Ice Cream Barn to him.”
“Should he be a suspect, too?” Violet asked.
“He wasn’t around when any of those things happened,” Jessie said. “At least, none of us saw him. But I wouldn’t mind asking him a few questions.”
“We can do that,” said Henry.
“How?” asked Benny.
“We can call him. He gave us his business card, remember?” Henry said. “I still have it—Katy said she would never need it.”
He’d barely finished speaking when Jessie leaped to her feet. “Let’s call,” she said, and led the way to the phone. Henry dialed the number on the card, then handed Jessie the phone. She waited impatiently while it rang.
“Hello, Mr. Smithers?” Jessie said. “My name is Jessie Alden and I—”
She didn’t get to finish. Mr. Smithers said, “If you’re calling about the jobs at our new shop, we’re conducting interviews this afternoon.”
“Jobs?” said Jessie.
“At our new shop in Silver City,” said Mr. Smithers. “Corner of Main and Nugget. Can you find it?”
“Yes,” said Jessie. “Thank you.” She hung up the phone.
“That was quick,” commented Henry.
Jessie looked at the others. “Well,” she said, “I guess we’d better get to Silver City this afternoon.”
“Why?” asked Benny.
“To see Mr. Smithers about a job,” said Jessie.
CHAPTER 7
The Sugar Shop
Fresh paint glistened on the shop at the corner of Main and Nugget in nearby Silver City. Hanging in the front window was a sign that read, NOW HIRING. HELP WANTED FOR THE SUGAR SHOP OF SILVER CITY.
“There’s Mr. Smithers’s car,” Jessie said, pointing to the big dark car parked next to a small white one in the parking lot.
“And there’s Mr. Smithers,” said Benny. “He’s talking to one of our customers!”
“What?” Violet said.
They all looked through the window. Mr. Smithers was sitting on a folding chair next to a big packing crate. A blond woman with dark eyebrows was sitting on another folding chair next to him. Papers were spread out on the packing crate and she was talking rapidly while Mr. Smithers nodded.
After a while, she stood up, gesturing for Mr. Smithers to keep the papers. Then she shook hands with him and came hurrying out the door. She’d just reached the white car when she saw the Aldens.
“Hi,” said Benny.
“Oh!” she said. “Uh, hi, there.”
“Are you going to get a job at the Sugar Shop?” asked Jessie.
“A job? How...uh, maybe,” said the woman. She flung her briefcase in the car before jumping in herself and quickly driving away.
“She seems kind of nervous,” said Violet.
“If she just had a job interview, maybe she is,” said Jessie. “Come on, let’s go talk to Mr. Smithers.”
Mr. Smithers glanced up from the papers when the Aldens walked in. Jessie said, “Mr. Smithers, I called you this morning— ”
“Oh, no, no,” he said. “You’re too young for a job with us. You have to be at least fourteen.”
“I’m fourteen,” said Henry. “But—”
“Here, fill out this application,” said Mr. Smithers, snatching up a piece of paper from the packing crate.
“But I don’t want a job, thank you,” said Henry, handing the application back.
That got Mr. Smithers’s attention. “What do you want, then?” he said. “I’m a very busy man. I have to hire counter help, managers...and who knows where I’m going to find a good manager, someone with experience. I’ve seen people with interesting ideas”—he tapped one finger on the papers—“but not enough experience. Well? Well?”
“How long have you known you were opening a Sugar Shop in Silver City?” asked Jessie.
“A few months now,” said Mr. Smithers.
“Then why did you try to buy the Ice Cream Barn?” asked Benny.
“It’s a good business. Buy the shop, buy the customers. When that didn’t work, we thought about putting a shop in Greenfield. But we decided that the Ice Cream Barn customers were, er, too loyal. So we settled on Silver City,” explained Mr. Smithers.
A phone began ringing in the back of the half-finished shop.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said. He jumped up and was gone.
“Thank you,” Violet said to his back.
Outside on the sidewalk, Jessie said, “A Sugar Shop in Silver City. I wonder if Brianna and Katy know about it.”
“If they don’t, we should tell them,” Benny said.
“Do you think Mr. Smithers is a suspect?” Henry asked.
“No,” said Jessie. “I did for a minute, but I don’t think someone who works for a big company like that would do such petty dishonest things to a small business like the Ice Cream Barn.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Henry.
“I wonder if Preston knows about the Sugar Shop,” said Violet. “He has experience. He could get a job there.”
“If we see him, we’ll tell him,” said Jessie.
But they forgot about telling Preston anything when they reached the Ice Cream Barn. A big sign on the door of the shop said, CLOSED.
“Oh, no,” groaned Henry. “Not again.”
But Benny was peering through the glass. He tapped on the window. “Katy is inside,” he explained.
A moment later, Katy opened the door. “Come in, come in,” she said urgently, her expression grave. “Did you see Brianna? Have you found Butterscotch?”
“Found Butterscotch? What are you talking about?” Violet said in shock.
“You don’t know, then? Butterscotch is missing. Brianna went into the barn this morning to let her out of her stall into the paddock and she was gone,” said Katy.
“Gone! How did she get out?” asked Jessie.
“Someone took her, that’s how.” Katy sank down into a chair. “There’s no way Butterscotch could have gotten her stall door open and the barn door as well. And I don’t think she would have closed those doors behind her, either.”
“Someone stole Butterscotch?” Benny cried. “A horse thief?”
“A horse thief,” said Katy. “Poor Butterscotch. I wonder if we’ll ever see her again.”
“Don’t worry, you will,” said Jessie stoutly. “We’ll find her.”
“I wish you could,” said Katy hopelessly. “I wish you could.”
“Let’s go to the barn. We can start looking for clues there,” said Violet. She patted Katy’s hand. “It will be all right,” she promised.
“No lock on either the barn door or the paddock door,” said Henry. “But no way Butterscotch could have gotten either of those open herself, even if she did get out of her st
all.”
“The ice-cream wagon is still here,” noted Jessie.
“It would be hard to hide an ice-cream wagon,” said Benny. “But I guess you could, if you can hide a boxcar.” Benny was remembering the time their boxcar had gotten stolen.
“No footprints we can use,” said Violet, bending over to examine the hard-packed earth outside the barn door. “Just scuffs in the dirt.”
“Whoever took her either had to lead her away, ride her away, or drive her away in a horse van,” said Henry. “If they drove her, they could be anywhere.”
“And anybody,” said Violet in a discouraged voice.
“No!” said Jessie. “Not just anybody. I think whoever took Butterscotch is the same person who phoned in that fake delivery order, who stole the posters, who complained about Butterscotch, and who made those horrible suggestions.”
“And put up the ‘Out of Business’ signs,” added Benny.
“Preston—” began Jessie.
As if Jessie had made him appear by saying his name, Preston came running toward the barn. He stopped, looking wildly around. “She’s gone,” he said. “She’s really gone.”
“Yes, Butterscotch is missing,” said Henry.
Preston’s face was pale. He looked as if he might be about to cry. “Who would do a rotten thing like that?” he said.
“Someone who wanted to put the Ice Cream Barn out of business,” said Henry. They all watched Preston closely.
Preston didn’t seem to notice. “That’s one of the reasons I was so upset when Katy laid me off,” he said, almost to himself. “I wanted to help with Butterscotch. I thought it would be cool to learn about horses and how to drive the wagon. Poor Katy. She must be really upset.”
Preston straightened his shoulders. “Katy said you were looking for Butterscotch. I will, too. And if I can do anything else to help, let me know.”
“We will,” said Violet.
Preston turned and walked slowly back to the store.
The Aldens stared after him. Then Violet said, “He could be pretending to be upset so we wouldn’t suspect him.”
“He could, but he’d have to be an awfully good actor,” said Jessie.
“Preston didn’t steal Butterscotch or do any of those other things?” asked Benny.