Mystery at Peacock Hall

by Charles Tang

  Tate handed the paper back to Jessie. “I don’t have time for riddles, miss. I’ve got to get these weeds out before they choke the tulips.”

  Kneeling, Benny stroked the velvety petal of a yellow tulip. “How come nobody picks these?”

  Tate rocked back on his heels. “Good question, young man. In the old days, my flowers would be in vases all over the house. But now it’s just Mrs. Randolph and me. And we don’t bother cutting flowers. It’s all we can do to keep the roof from falling in!”

  “Tell us about the old days,” Jessie said. “What was it like? Was the yard pretty?”

  “Oh, it was grand!” Tate answered, warming to the subject. “And the Randolphs gave fancy parties. At night, the driveway was lined with Japanese lanterns. They sparkled like fireflies!”

  “Did a lot of people come?” Violet asked.

  “You bet! Roscoe Janney loved to visit. When he was about your age, Benny, he’d follow me around like a puppy dog. He always wanted to live in Peacock Hall.”

  Benny couldn’t believe Roscoe Janney was ever his age! Cousin Althea’s great-nephew was no fun at all!

  “Do you know anything about the treasure?” Henry asked.

  Tate bent to his chore again. “I don’t have time for foolishness.”

  Henry wondered why the old man was friendly one minute and unfriendly the next.

  Benny wandered over to the empty fish pond. Climbing over the crumbling ledge, he stood next to the goldfish fountain. The statue stood on its tail. Water was supposed to spout from the open mouth.

  Rubbing his fingers over the carved scales, Benny felt something. He looked closer.

  Two letters had been scratched in the granite — R.J.

  Roscoe Janney.

  “Look what I found!” he cried, waving the others over.

  “I bet those are Roscoe Janney’s initials,” Henry said.

  “Good work, Benny,” Violet said. “That proves what Tate was saying — that Roscoe came here a lot when he was a kid.”

  “But why would he carve his initials on the fish statue?” Benny wondered.

  Henry replied, “It’s a way of saying, ‘I was here.’ ”

  Violet touched the marks on the statue. “I wonder if this was Roscoe’s way of saying, ‘This is mine.’ ”

  Jessie remembered the way Roscoe had guiltily left the restaurant last night. “You may have a point, Violet. I bet Roscoe is up to something. He seems to want to buy Peacock Hall pretty badly. Tate said Roscoe loved the house.”

  “Do you think Tate was our prowler?” Violet asked. “He has ladders and things in his garden shed.”

  Jessie pulled the scrap of denim from her pocket. “We still don’t know about those jeans on the clothesline. They might be hanging up now. I’d like to compare this piece of material to the hole.”

  Henry nodded.

  The children hurried across the lawn to the smokehouse. The peacock was scratching around the pen, but paid no attention to the Aldens.

  “Why won’t the big one put his tail up?” Benny asked. He still longed to have a peacock feather.

  “He only does it to show off in front of the peahen,” Jessie replied. “And she’s not around.”

  “Well, he could show off in front of us,” Benny said.

  Henry laughed. “I think he does, sometimes. Peacocks are vain birds. They like to be admired.”

  Benny wondered if the peacock knew the secret of the house. After all, the place was named after the bird.

  By now they had rounded the corner of the smokehouse. Sure enough, clean laundry flapped in the spring breeze.

  Violet stared at the clothes pegged to the line. Shirts, jeans, socks — all for someone about her size.

  “That shirt,” she said suddenly. “The red-striped one near the end — David was wearing it when he ran from us.”

  “You’re right!” Jessie exclaimed. “These are David’s clothes! I wonder why David’s laundry is hanging on a line at Tate’s house.”

  Just then Tate himself hustled around the corner.

  “What are you kids doing around this place? Didn’t I tell you to stay away?”

  “We just —” Benny began.

  But Tate wouldn’t let him finish. “Go on!” he yelled. “You don’t have any business around here!”

  “Let’s go,” Henry said to the others. There was no point in arguing. Tate would only get angrier, he figured. “There’s only one way to clear up this mystery.”

  Violet caught on instantly. “Go back to Heather’s stand! She can tell us why David’s clothes are here.”

  It didn’t take them long to hike across the dandelion-dotted field.

  But the stand was deserted.

  No wreaths decorated the front, no bunches of fragrant herbs hung invitingly from the rafters. Heather and David were nowhere in sight.

  “They’re gone!” Violet cried.

  Jessie ran her hand over the board counter. “It’s as if they were never here. What happened to them?”

  “They must be in Tate’s smokehouse,” Henry concluded.

  “David’s clothes are at the smokehouse,” Jessie corrected. “We don’t know where Heather and David are.”

  Henry turned toward the path across the field. “We don’t have time to solve this mystery. Not if we want to help Cousin Althea keep Peacock Hall.”

  Grandfather was pulling into the driveway as the children crossed the lawn.

  “You look like you have news,” he said to them.

  “We do,” said Henry. “We went to Heather’s stand, but it’s empty. And Heather and David are gone.”

  Grandfather sighed. “I saw Heather Olsen at the courthouse earlier today. She was arguing with someone in the license bureau. Apparently she doesn’t have a business license and someone reported her to the county. County officials shut down her stand.”

  Jessie glanced at Violet. They knew who reported Heather — nosy Marlene Sanders.

  “So she’s out of business?” Henry asked.

  “Until she obtains a proper license, I’m afraid so,” Grandfather said.

  Benny frowned. “But that’s not fair. I like Heather.”

  “I like her, too,” Grandfather said. “But some things in life aren’t fair.”

  Jessie glanced up at Peacock Hall. Cousin Althea was on the verge of losing her home. And they were running out of time. Some things were definitely not fair.

  As if reading his sister’s mind, Benny said, “Let’s get back to looking for the treasure. Today well find it!”

  As they went into the house, Violet said, “We have so many things to look for — Heather and David, the treasure. And all we’ve found is an old piece of paper nobody can read!”

  “Let’s see the paper again, Jessie,” Henry said.

  Jessie pulled out the envelope. “I still can’t make heads or tails out of it.”

  “Heads or tails?” Benny echoed.

  “It’s an expression,” Jessie explained. “It means it’s a mystery to me!”

  “What’s a mystery?” boomed a voice from the doorway.

  The Aldens looked up to see Roscoe Janney striding into the room.

  “What’s a mystery?” the young man repeated, smiling.

  Jessie didn’t trust that smile. “Uh — nothing,” she said, slipping the old receipt into a drawer behind her.

  Henry knew what she was doing. “We were just wondering why the sun comes up in the east,” he said as a distraction. “It’s a mystery to us!”

  “Not really. You see, the earth rotates around the sun —” Then Roscoe laughed. “It’s too nice a day to think about science. That’s why I came by.”

  “Why did you come by?” Althea asked, entering the room with Grandfather.

  “To take you and your guests on an outing,” Roscoe said. “To Natural Bridge! It’ll be fun!”

  “I guess that’ll be all right,” Grandfather said.

  Henry was suspicious of Roscoe Janney. He was too nice, all of
a sudden. Did Roscoe see Jessie hide the receipt?

  If Roscoe was with them on a trip, he couldn’t do any harm, Henry decided.

  But the Aldens would keep an eye on Althea’s great-nephew.

  CHAPTER 7

  Who Robbed Peacock Hall?

  The sight of Roscoe Janney’s car made Henry’s pulse beat faster. Roscoe owned a big old Jeep.

  “Do you go camping?” he asked Roscoe. He still didn’t trust the guy, but he admired that cool car.

  “I used to,” Roscoe replied. “The Jeep is great over these mountains in the winter.”

  Grandfather climbed into the bucket seat next to the driver. Althea and the girls sat in the backseat. Benny and Henry got into the rear compartment, where jump seats had been installed.

  Roscoe proved to be the perfect travel guide. He told funny stories about the region. He pointed out deer poised by the roadside and red-tailed hawks perched on phone wires.

  Althea was quiet on the drive. Jessie wondered why she came on this trip, since she and Roscoe didn’t get along.

  Benny wondered why they were taking the trip at all. What was so special about a bridge? When they finally arrived, he was surprised.

  Benny expected to see a metal bridge. Instead, he saw a huge stone rock with a hole in it.

  “That’s the bridge?” he asked.

  “That’s it,” replied Roscoe. He drove over the rock formation, which spanned Cedar Creek. Then he parked the Jeep and they all got out.

  “I wish I had brought my camera,” Violet said. “But at least I have the drawing tablet Cousin Althea gave me.”

  “A sketch would be nice,” Grandfather told her. “I was here once before, but it was a long time ago.”

  Roscoe told the Aldens about the limestone formation.

  “The bridge is one of the seven natural wonders of the world,” he recited.

  Althea took over. “Thomas Jefferson was so awed by it, he bought it from King George the Third for twenty shillings.”

  “How much?” asked Benny.

  “Not very much money,” Roscoe put in. “Considering property prices these days.” He gave his aunt a meaningful glance. Althea frowned.

  “Can we explore?” Henry asked Grandfather.

  “Go ahead. It’s perfectly safe,” Grandfather said. “We’ll go into the cafe.”

  The children ran to the overlook and gazed down.

  Violet propped her drawing pad on the rock ledge and began sketching the ancient arch.

  Behind them, a tour guide with his group was saying, “In 1750, a young man named George Washington surveyed the bridge. If you look on the southwest wall, you’ll find his initials.”

  Benny became excited. More initials! “Can we go see George Washington’s initials?” he asked.

  “Sure,” said Jessie. “Let’s follow the group.”

  They hiked down the path to the inside of the arch.

  “There it is!” Benny cried, pointing up high to a box carved into the limestone. With his keen eyes, he could see the letters G.W.

  Then the children joined the grown-ups in the cafe. Roscoe treated them to ice-cream cones. He kept looking at his watch, Henry noticed. Why was Roscoe so concerned about the time? He didn’t seem to be in a rush.

  On their way back to Peacock Hall, Benny borrowed a sheet of Violet’s drawing paper. He wrote B.A. over and over. Writing the letters reminded him of something, but he couldn’t figure out what.

  Roscoe pulled the Jeep behind Grandfather’s station wagon. “Here we are,” he said cheerfully. “I hope you all had a nice time.”

  “Yes, we did,” said Jessie. “Thank you for taking us.” As she climbed out, she saw Roscoe’s hands shaking on the steering wheel.

  “I won’t come in this time,” he said to Althea.

  “I wasn’t going to invite you,” she said tartly. “It’s late and the children need their supper.”

  Before the Aldens and Althea reached the porch, Roscoe backed the Jeep around and roared down the driveway.

  “Boy, he’s sure in a hurry,” Benny commented.

  “I’m glad he didn’t stay.” Althea fumbled with her keys, but the door was open slightly. “That’s odd. I’m sure I locked the door behind me.”

  They all walked down the hall and into the living room. Althea gave a little scream.

  Every piece of furniture had been overturned. Cushions lay scattered on the floor. The stern-faced portraits hung crookedly on the walls.

  “I’ve been robbed!” Althea moaned. “James, call the police at once!”

  “Let’s make sure no one is still in the house,” said Grandfather. He and Henry checked the big place.

  When they returned, Henry reported, “Nothing was messed up in any of the other rooms. Only this room.”

  “Maybe we surprised the burglar,” Althea said. “He tried to get in the night you all arrived, remember.”

  “But we didn’t see anybody run out,” Violet pointed out. “And no one’s hiding in the house or Grandfather would have found him. Or her.”

  Henry had a theory. “I think whoever broke in was after one particular thing. And that person knew exactly which room to look in. This one.”

  “There’s nothing of value in here,” Althea said. “What could anybody possibly want that was in my living room?”

  Jessie felt a chill down her spine. The receipt! They’d been studying it when Roscoe Janney came in earlier. She’d slipped it into a drawer behind her. Was it there now?

  Jessie walked over to the small table. The contents of the drawer — postcards and letters — were strewn on the floor. She pawed through the papers.

  “It’s not here!” she cried.

  “What’s not here?” asked Grandfather.

  Henry knew at once. “The old receipt we found. We were looking at it when Roscoe came in today. Jessie hid it in the drawer so he wouldn’t see it. But he did see!”

  “But how could Roscoe steal the receipt?” Benny asked. “He was with us on the trip!”

  “I didn’t think that old piece of paper was important,” said Althea.

  “Apparently it is,” Grandfather said. “Or else someone wouldn’t have gone to the trouble to steal it. Do you still want to call the police?”

  Althea shook her head. “As long as nothing else is missing ...” She sighed. “Anyway, the sheriff will be out here soon enough. To throw me out.”

  When the adults left the room, the children huddled together.

  “Who could have broken in?” Jessie asked.

  “It couldn’t have been Roscoe,” Henry said. “Unless he had a friend break in.”

  “What about Tate?” Benny brought up. “Roscoe and Tate are friends.”

  Jessie bit her lip. “Tate’s kind of weird, but I think he’s loyal to Althea. I don’t think he’d rob her.”

  Henry agreed with Benny. “We can’t rule him out as a suspect.”

  “Is the old paper a clue to the treasure?” Violet asked what they all were thinking.

  Now they’d never know.

  The next morning, Grandfather left for town, again hoping to turn up some legal information that would help Althea.

  “Tomorrow is the last day,” he said.

  Althea had to go to Monticello. “I have the early shift,” she told the children.

  “We’ll stay here and look for the treasure,” Benny said.

  Althea shook her head. “I’m sorry, Benny, but I can’t allow you children to stay here alone. Not after what happened last night.”

  “But Tate is around,” Violet reminded her.

  Althea shook her head. “I know, but I’d feel better if you were with me. You can search the house this afternoon.”

  Was she suspicious of the gardener, too? Jessie wondered.

  This time the children toured Jefferson’s home again. They located their favorite inventions, one by one.

  “Now for mine,” said Benny, heading for the dining room.

  A guide was just demonst
rating the dumbwaiters built into the fireplace that Jefferson used for meals.

  “I still wish I had a little elevator in my room,” said Benny.

  Henry laughed. “Just what you need, Benny Alden. Twenty-four-hour room service!”

  At last Cousin Althea’s shift was over. They all drove back to Peacock Hall.

  “Let’s start searching,” Benny said, rushing upstairs.

  “But you haven’t had lunch yet!” Jessie called.

  Benny hurried back down the stairs. “Okay, but let’s make it quick.”

  “Boy, you must be anxious to find the treasure,” Violet teased.

  Althea understood the children’s eagerness. “Go ahead,” she urged. “I’ll bring lunch up on a tray.”

  “Too bad you don’t have one of those waiter elevators,” Benny remarked. “Then you wouldn’t have to walk upstairs.”

  “It’s very unusual for houses to have dumbwaiters,” Althea said, chuckling.

  Lunch was a tasty combination of cold chicken sandwiches and potato salad. Cold lemonade quenched their thirst after working in dusty rooms.

  But after searching for several hours, the children didn’t find the secret of Peacock Hall. They trudged downstairs to help Althea with dinner. Grandfather called and said he would be late. He was meeting with an old lawyer friend.

  While they were washing dishes, a familiar voice called.

  “Anybody home?” Roscoe Janney walked confidently into the kitchen. “Hello, Auntie.”

  “Hello, Roscoe.” Althea didn’t seem pleased to see her great-nephew.

  “I came by to make you my final offer,” Roscoe said, getting straight to business. He pulled out a typewritten sheet. “Here it is. Take it or leave it.”

  Althea barely glanced at the sheet. “I’m not that desperate.”

  “Yes, you are. Tomorrow is your last day. If you don’t pay your taxes, you’ll lose Peacock Hall,” Roscoe said.

  “I still have one more day,” Althea said firmly.

  Roscoe laughed, stuffing the paper back in his pocket. “You’ll be sorry you didn’t take me up on my offer!”

  “This is still my house, Roscoe Janney,” Althea said, trying to control her anger. “Please leave at once.”