The Copycat Mystery

by Gertrude Chandler Warner

  “To convince everyone the house is haunted,” Henry said. “Maybe he’s hoping it’ll keep people away.”

  Jessie handed Violet the pizza platter to wash. “And Draper does have his own set of keys.”

  Benny added, “I bet he knows a lot about the Wagner family. After all, he’s worked on the farm for a long time.”

  “I suppose it’s possible,” Violet admitted reluctantly. She didn’t like to be suspicious just because someone was nervous.

  “I just thought of something else,” Henry said. “There’s one other person with keys to the farmhouse. And this person knows more about Horace Wagner than anybody else does.”

  Jessie looked puzzled. So did Violet and Benny.

  “Who is it?” they all said at the same time.

  “Miss Pennink,” answered Henry.

  “Miss Pennink!” The others were so surprised by this, all they could do was stare in disbelief.

  “Oh, you don’t really suspect Miss Pennink, do you, Henry?” said Violet.

  “I don’t want to think she would do something like that, Violet,” he told her. “But we have to consider everybody. And I heard she sometimes opens the house early in the morning if Gwen has a meeting in town with Mr. Mason. So she must have her own keys.”

  They had to admit that it was possible. Wasn’t Miss Pennink upset because her great-great-grandfather was being ignored by Carl Mason? And hadn’t Miss Pennink told them that one way or another she’d make sure people knew about Horace Wagner? What better way than by playing his practical jokes all over again?

  “But which one is the copycat?” Benny wondered aloud. “Miss Pennink, Draper Mills, or Sharon?”

  “I think we should include Jake North on our list of suspects,” said Violet.

  Benny looked confused. “But Draper Mills is Jake’s uncle, remember? That means Jake had a good reason for being at the farmhouse last night.”

  “I know,” Violet said. “Except . . .”

  Jessie asked, “What is it, Violet?”

  “Well, it also means that Jake could’ve borrowed Draper’s keys!” said Violet. “And his uncle probably has told him all about Horace and his practical jokes.”

  “Good point,” said Henry.

  Benny was deep in thought. “You don’t think . . .” he said, and then stopped himself.

  “Are you wondering if the farmhouse might really be haunted?” Violet asked in a gentle voice. Then she quickly added, “I don’t blame you, Benny. I’ve wondered about that myself.”

  Benny turned to Jessie. “Do you believe it’s haunted?”

  Jessie didn’t answer right away. Finally, she said, “No, I don’t.”

  “Now that I think about it,” Violet put in, “I’m sure it isn’t.” She wasn’t really sure, but she wanted Benny to believe she was.

  Benny looked up at his older brother. “What do you say, Henry?”

  “There’s no such thing as ghosts, Benny,” Henry told him firmly.

  “I didn’t think so,” Benny said, looking relieved. And then he added, “But I can’t help wondering what’s going to happen next.”

  “I have a feeling we won’t have to wait long to find out!” declared Jessie.

  CHAPTER 9

  What’s Wrong with This Picture?

  Miss Pennink breathed a sigh of relief when Henry and Benny came out of the changing room the next morning. “Looks like Horace decided not to shorten those pants again,” she said. “Thank goodness for that!” Then, after a moment’s thought, she added, “But we must be on our guard. Horace might have left his mark somewhere else.”

  Jessie was hurrying off with Violet to get the farmhouse ready for the day. “Don’t worry, Miss Pennink,” she said. “We’ll keep an eye out for any more practical jokes.”

  Jessie and Violet did just that as they went from one room to another, lifting shades and opening windows. “So far, so good,” said Violet, coming out of the study.

  Jessie nodded. “The last thing Gwen needs today is another practical joke.”

  “I was hoping my snapshots would cheer her up a bit,” remarked Violet. “But . . .” Her words trailed away in a sigh.

  Stepping into the parlor, Violet stopped so suddenly that her older sister almost bumped into her. Then Jessie realized what was wrong—all the family portraits were facing the wrong way. Somebody had hung them up backward!

  Jessie and Violet stood frozen to the spot. They couldn’t believe their eyes! Finally, they ran to the office and told everyone of their discovery.

  “The pictures really are backward,” said Benny as he peered into the shadowy parlor.

  Sharon turned to Miss Pennink in surprise. “Horace did leave his mark again.”

  “I wish there were some other explanation.” Miss Pennink sat down on the front staircase in the entrance hall. “But there’s no doubt in my mind. This has Horace’s name all over it.”

  “Unless I miss my guess,” said Gwen, “Horace once played a practical joke just like this one. Am I right, Miss Pennink?”

  The elderly woman nodded slowly as she began to tell them about her great-great-grandfather’s practical joke with the backward pictures. “Horace had a good friend named Tom Brankin,” she said. “When Tom was turned down for membership in a fancy Elmford club, Horace was so angry he decided to give this club a taste of its own medicine.”

  Benny’s eyes were huge. “What did Horace do?”

  “He applied for membership himself,” Miss Pennink went on. “Of course the club was delighted. Horace, you see, was highly regarded in the community. When the membership committee paid a visit to the Wagner home, they discovered the portraits on the walls and the pictures on the piano were facing the wrong way. I believe,” Miss Pennink added, “the pictures on the piano are probably facing the wrong way now, too.”

  They all crowded around the parlor doorway to check it out. Sure enough, the pictures in fancy frames on the piano had indeed been turned around.

  Miss Pennink continued. “They say Horace enjoyed the look of surprise on the faces of that membership committee. They had no idea what the backward pictures meant, of course. At least not until the next day. That’s when Horace sent them a note.”

  “What did it say?” Sharon asked in a hushed voice. “The note, I mean.”

  Miss Pennink smiled a little. “It said that Horace was turning his back on their little club, the same way they had turned their backs on his good friend Tom Brankin.”

  “Oh, I get it!” said Benny. “That’s why the pictures were turned away from everyone.”

  “Exactly,” said Miss Pennink. “And now the entire Wagner family have turned their backs on those who have ignored Horace. Carl Mason, for one.”

  When Gwen noticed Draper trimming the hedge out front, she asked him to step inside. He looked into the parlor and shook his head.

  “How could such a thing happen?” he asked.

  “I wish I knew,” said Gwen. “Did you see anything suspicious last night, Draper?”

  Draper Mills gave his head a firm shake. “Not a thing.”

  At that moment, the door opened again. It was Carl Mason, and he had a rolled-up newspaper in his hand. “Miss Corkum, if you thought I’d approve of this publicity stunt,” he said, holding up the paper, “then you’re in for a surprise!”

  Jessie and Henry exchanged glances. Carl Mason seemed to think the practical jokes were Gwen’s idea.

  “I can assure you, Mr. Mason, this is not a publicity stunt,” Gwen said quietly. “And you might as well know, the practical jokes haven’t ended yet.”

  As Gwen showed the museum curator into the parlor, Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny went off to check the house for any sign of forced entry. But once again, it was clear the copycat must have had a key to get inside. Finally they went upstairs to make sure the copycat hadn’t pulled any more pranks.

  After a careful search, Violet said, “Nothing looks out of place up here.” And the others agreed.

 
Just before heading downstairs again, Jessie glanced through a bedroom window and caught sight of a red sports car coming up the driveway. “How strange,” she said.

  “What’s strange?” asked Henry.

  “Have you noticed how Jake North always arrives at just the right time?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, at the right time to take a photograph of the latest practical joke.”

  Henry glanced out the window. When he spotted Jake, he said, “Now that you mention it . . .”

  “Do you think it’s more than a coincidence?” asked Violet as she joined her older brother and sister at the window. Benny was close behind.

  “A lot more!” replied Jessie.

  “It does seem odd,” agreed Benny.

  Violet watched for a moment as Jake North strolled across the front lawn, his camera hanging from a strap around his neck. When he removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket, Violet’s eyes got very large.

  Henry said, “What’s the matter, Violet?”

  Violet didn’t answer. Instead, she snapped her fingers and went racing away. She returned a few moments later with a photograph. It was the one Gwen had taken of the Aldens in their Victorian costumes. “I knew there was something funny about this picture,” she said softly. “But I couldn’t put my finger on it until now.”

  Jessie glanced at the photo. “I don’t understand. It’s just a picture of the four of us standing in the office.”

  “Yes,” said Violet. “But it was taken the day Jake said he left his sunglasses here.”

  “He did leave them.” Henry looked puzzled. “They were on the—” Suddenly catching on, Henry drew in his breath. “Jake’s sunglasses!”

  “How come they’re not on the windowsill in this picture?” asked Benny, trying to keep his voice low.

  “That’s exactly what I’m wondering,” said Violet. “Jake was gone before this picture was taken.”

  “Which means he left his sunglasses on the windowsill after the farmhouse had closed for the day!” concluded Jessie.

  “You think Jake North is the copycat?” asked Benny in surprise.

  Violet nodded. “I’m sure of it.”

  Henry took a deep breath. “Jake North has some explaining to do.” And he led the way downstairs.

  “I thought I’d made myself quite clear, Mr. North.” Mr. Mason was pointing to the front page of the newspaper. He sounded upset. “This type of article isn’t what I had in mind when I invited you out here.”

  “It’s my job to report the facts, Mr. Mason,” argued Jake. “And the facts point to this farmhouse being haunted.”

  “What are you doing here, Jake?” demanded Henry, who was edging his way past Miss Pennink on the staircase. “Why now, I mean?”

  Jake looked startled by the question. “Well . . . uh . . . Miss Pennink was a bit under the weather yesterday. I thought I’d find out how she was feeling today. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  “Are you sure you aren’t here to take a picture?” asked Jessie.

  “A picture?” echoed Jake. “A picture of what?”

  “Of the latest practical joke.”

  “What do you mean?” Jake inquired. “Has something else happened?”

  “You should know,” Benny blurted out, his hands on his hips. “After all, you set it up. Didn’t you?”

  Jake laughed. “You’re kidding. Right?”

  Even Mr. Mason looked puzzled. “What’s going on? Surely you’re not hinting that Jake North had anything to do with these practical jokes?”

  Benny nodded vigorously “Jake had plenty to do with them!”

  “He sure did,” added Jessie, watching Jake closely.

  Violet started to say, “And we can prove—”

  But Jake interrupted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His eyes shifted. “You kids are getting all worked up about nothing.”

  Violet stepped forward. “You said you left your sunglasses at the farmhouse the day of the laundry demonstration. Remember?”

  “Of course I remember. They were on the windowsill. What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “If that’s true,” finished Violet, “then why aren’t they on the windowsill in this snapshot?” And she held the photograph up for Jake to see. “This was taken just before the farmhouse closed that day.”

  Jake shrugged. “That doesn’t mean a thing. The photo was probably taken some other time.”

  “I remember this snapshot.” Gwen was studying it closely. “I took it myself, and it was the day of the laundry demonstration. You’d left hours before this picture was taken, Jake. And yet . . . your sunglasses were on the windowsill the next morning. How do you explain that?”

  Draper Mills looked at his nephew. “Jake, what’s this all about?”

  Carl Mason examined the photograph, then passed it on to Jake. “I would certainly like to hear what you have to say, Mr. North. And remember, a picture’s worth a thousand words.”

  Jake stared at the photo for what seemed like ages. He opened his mouth several times, then closed it again. Finally his shoulders slumped. “Yes, I admit it,” he said. “I copied Horace Wagner’s practical jokes. I . . . I wanted everyone to think the farmhouse was haunted.”

  Miss Pennink’s mouth dropped open. Gwen and Sharon both stared wide-eyed.

  “But why?” Draper Mills demanded, looking completely bewildered. “Why would you do such a thing, Jake?”

  Henry knew the answer to that one. “You wanted something interesting to write about, didn’t you?”

  Jake nodded. “We’re supposed to submit a few newspaper articles when we go back to college. I knew what I’d written so far would put my teachers to sleep. I just wanted a scoop, and there certainly wasn’t much chance of getting that in Elmford.” Jake paused. “I got the idea for a haunted house story when the farmhouse sign disappeared. In fact, I was planning to write a whole series of articles on the ghostly practical jokes. I asked my uncle about Horace Wagner, and he told me everything I needed to know.”

  “You said it was for background information,” protested Draper. “I had no idea. . . .”

  Jessie looked accusingly at Jake. “The truth is, you wanted to find out about the practical jokes so you could copy them.”

  Jake didn’t deny it. “I knew there was going to be a laundry demonstration, and when I heard about Horace hiding a gift in the laundry tub, I couldn’t resist. I drove out of town, bought a canary, then came back to the farm to have dinner with Uncle Draper.” Jake avoided looking his uncle in the eye. “I knew my uncle was in the habit of nodding off for a while after supper. I just waited for my chance and—”

  “You took the keys,” finished Violet. “Then you slipped into the farmhouse, put the canary in the antique birdcage, and hid the cage in the empty laundry tub.”

  “The next night, you shortened our pants,” concluded Henry.

  “I’m not handy with a needle and thread,” admitted Jake, “but I figured Horace probably wasn’t, either.”

  “Only you made a mistake,” offered Violet. “You left your sunglasses behind.”

  Jake corrected her. “No, I did that on purpose. My sunglasses gave me an excuse to come back the next morning. That way, I could get a snapshot of Henry and Benny wearing those pants.” Jake sighed. “I can’t believe the sunglasses were the one thing that did me in. I didn’t count on you Aldens being such good detectives.”

  “And you did this, too?” asked Miss Pennink, gesturing toward the parlor.

  Jake nodded sheepishly.

  “You did it all, then,” stated Gwen. “The sign, the canary, the—”

  Jake broke in, “Everything except the sign. I had nothing to do with that.”

  “Then who . . .?” asked Gwen.

  “It was me.” Sharon’s face turned red. “I was the one who moved the sign. I had no idea it would cause so many problems.” She sat down on the staircase next to Miss Pennink. “I knew a
photographer was coming out from the Elmford newspaper that day, and I figured it would be good for my modeling career to get my picture in the paper.”

  “So you moved the sign hoping that Jake would have trouble finding the farmhouse,” Henry guessed.

  Sharon nodded. “I just wanted to delay things until I got back from the dentist.”

  She turned to her sister. “I was planning to put the sign right back.”

  “That’s how you got burrs on your socks, isn’t it?” said Violet.

  Sharon looked over at Violet in surprise. “You really are good detectives,” she said. “That is how I got the burrs. Everything’s overgrown behind the old barn.”

  Gwen let out a sigh. “I can’t believe you’d do something like that.”

  “I’m really sorry, Gwen.” Sharon hung her head.

  Miss Pennink spoke up next. “I should have known it wasn’t my great-great-grandfather. Horace Wagner’s jokes were never meant to hurt anyone.”

  “I never meant to hurt anyone, either,” Jake said, almost as if he were trying to convince himself. “After all, it was good publicity for the farmhouse. Wasn’t it?”

  Jessie frowned. “Gwen almost lost her job.”

  Jake looked at the ground. “I’m sorry, Gwen,” he apologized. “I had no idea your job was at risk.”

  “There’s no danger of Miss Corkum losing her job,” Mr. Mason told Jake. “I was the one who invited you out here in the first place. I’m afraid that was my mistake.”

  Jake looked over at his uncle. “I know I betrayed your trust, Uncle Draper. But I give you my word, I’ll make things right.”

  Looking sad and disappointed, Draper Mills headed for the door. With a hand on the doorknob, he turned to his nephew. “Right now your word doesn’t mean much to me,” he said, and then he was gone.

  When Jake finally spoke again, he sounded truly sorry. “I will fix things. I’ll write another article for the newspaper. Everyone will know that the Wagner farmhouse isn’t haunted.”

  “That’s a good start, young man,” Mr. Mason told him. “A very good start.”

  CHAPTER 10