Mystery of the Runaway Ghost

by Gertrude Chandler Warner

  Violet looked up. “You must admit, Henry it’s awfully strange about that painting.”

  Benny was quick to agree. “How could the artist paint Buttercup’s picture seven years after she disappeared?”

  Henry shrugged. “That’s a good question.”

  “I don’t understand it, either,” put in Jessie, as the four of them made their way downstairs. “But there must be a logical explanation for it.”

  “Like what?” demanded Benny.

  None of them had an answer to that question.

  “Something sure smells good!” Henry said, as they trooped into the kitchen.

  Fran was humming to herself as she took the biscuits out of the oven. “I made my special meatballs in mushroom sauce.” The table was already set for dinner, and she gestured for the children to sit down. “I’m hoping it’ll hit the spot.”

  “Grandfather told us you’re a great cook, Fran,” Jessie said, taking a seat next to Benny.

  “Oh, I just follow the old family recipes, Jessie,” Fran said. “Selden’s wife, Anne, brought most of them with her from St. Ives.”

  “St. Ives?” said Henry.

  “That was the name of Anne’s hometown in England.” Fran set a dish of mashed potatoes on the table.

  “It must’ve been hard for Anne to leave her hometown,” Violet said. Violet was shy, and meeting new people often made her nervous.

  Fran pulled up a chair. “I imagine Anne was homesick at first, but she loved Selden, and she never regretted her new life in Wisconsin.”

  Just then, a voice behind them made the children turn around quickly in surprise.

  “Sorry I’m late.” A slim young woman came rushing into the room. She was dressed in a sleeveless blouse and a brightly flowered skirt. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

  Fran smiled warmly. “We only just sat down, Lottie.” She quickly introduced the Aldens to her boarder, Lottie Brighton.

  “A newlywed couple came into the gallery just as I was leaving,” Lottie explained, after saying hello to everyone. “They were eager for a sketch.” She slipped into the empty seat beside Henry. “What could I do? I needed the extra money.”

  Seeing the children’s slightly puzzled faces, Fran said, “Lottie has a job at one of the local galleries in Cedarburg. She draws sketches of the tourists who come to town.”

  That sounded like fun to Violet. “Oh, you must love going to work every day, Lottie!” Violet liked to sketch and draw, and she was good at it, too.

  Lottie placed a napkin over her lap. “Yes, I do enjoy it, and it’s good practice,” she said. “I just wish it paid more.”

  “Lottie’s putting herself through art school,” Fran explained.

  “At the rate I’m going, I’ll never have enough money for the fall term.” Lottie frowned as she put green beans on her plate.

  “I know what it’s like to be on a tight budget, Lottie.” Fran placed a comforting hand on the young woman’s arm. “It isn’t easy, but you’ll find a way.”

  “Grandfather always says, ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way,’ ” Benny said, then went back to wolfing down meatballs.

  Lottie nodded. “Yes, sometimes you have to do whatever it takes,” she said, “even if…” Her words trailed away in a sigh.

  Henry watched her expectantly, but Lottie didn’t finish the sentence.

  Just after Benny had eaten the last meatball, there was a soft tapping on the kitchen door. Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Fran hurried to answer it.

  A suntanned woman with a cheery smile was standing on the doorstep. She was dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, and her thick dark curls were held back from her face with a white headband. At her elbow was a girl about Violet’s age, holding a pie.

  “Well, look who’s here!” Fran stepped aside to usher in the new arrivals. Then she introduced everyone to her neighbors, Cora Roback and her daughter, Reese.

  “We made a special welcome-to-Cedarburg dessert,” Reese said, smiling over at the Aldens. “Ghost pie!” She held it up.

  Benny’s mouth dropped open. “Did you say ghost pie?”

  “Don’t worry, Benny.” Cora laughed. “It’s really just plain old apple pie.”

  “But guess what?” added Reese, who had the same dark hair and big brown eyes as her mother. “It’s so delicious that it disappears — just like that!” She snapped her fingers exactly as Fran had done. “That’s why we call it — ”

  “Ghost pie!” everyone cried out.

  “What a perfect way to end our meal!” Fran said as she set the pie on the counter.

  Jessie gave Reese a friendly smile. “I’m glad I left room for dessert.”

  “The meatballs hit the spot,” put in Benny, “but I’ve still got a big spot left for ghost pie.”

  “Count me in, too,” added Henry. Violet nodded.

  “Cora owns an antique store in town,” Fran informed the Aldens. “She also writes articles for a local magazine. Right now, she’s working on one about Shadowbox and the other old homes of Cedarburg.”

  “Oh!” Henry said. “I can’t wait to read all about the runaway ghost.”

  “Oh, yes!” Fran rubbed her hands together with pleasure. “The family ghost will get quite a write-up, I’m sure. I mean, how can it miss?”

  Jessie couldn’t help noticing that Cora shifted uncomfortably.

  “The problem is —” Cora began to say. But Fran interrupted.

  “If you need more information, Cora, just let me know. I’ll fill you in on all the ghostly details.”

  Cora held up a hand. “You might as well know, Fran,” she told her, “I decided not to mention the runaway ghost in the article.”

  “What was that?” There was a look of shock on Fran’s face.

  “Well, there haven’t been any sightings in years, right? And even the ones from long ago were probably staged — you know, to entertain the guests. The whole idea of a ghost cow seems a bit … far-fetched. Don’t you think?” Cora suddenly seemed unable to look Fran in the eye.

  “Far-fetched?” Fran stiffened.

  Lottie offered an opinion. “I agree with Cora. An article like that should stick to the facts.”

  Cora nodded. “Exactly!” she said. “The facts and nothing but the facts.”

  “People would laugh if you mentioned a ghost cow,” added Lottie. “You mustn’t even consider such a thing, Cora.”

  Jessie caught Henry’s eye. Why was Lottie butting in? The article had nothing to do with her.

  “I want this article to be taken seriously,” Cora added.

  “I see.” Fran looked as if she wanted to argue, but she didn’t.

  Violet didn’t like to see the disappointment on Fran’s face. She just had to say something. “But … the runaway ghost is a part of the history of Shadowbox. That story goes all the way back to the 1850s!”

  Reese turned to her mother. “Violet’s right. You can’t write about Shadowbox and not mention the runaway ghost. They go together like … like ghost pie and ice cream!”

  Cora frowned. “Reese, please!” She gave her daughter a warning look. “You’re not helping matters.”

  “I’m sure you know best, Cora,” Fran said, forcing a smile. “No reason for anyone to be upset.” But it was plain that Fran was upset.

  “Sure nice to meet everyone!” Cora was already steering her daughter toward the door. She suddenly seemed eager to get away. “See you later.”

  As the door closed behind them, Fran mumbled, “If Cora thinks I’m going to sit back and do nothing, she should think again. I mean, really!”

  The Aldens exchanged worried looks. What was Fran planning to do?

  “Now,” said Fran, who was back to her cheery self, “are you ready to hear about that mystery?”

  The Aldens nodded eagerly. They were sitting in the living room, sipping apple cider and eating ghost pie and ice cream.

  “All the clues are right here,” Fran said. She reached for a small wooden box
on the table beside her. “But, for the life of me, I can’t make head nor tails of any of it.”

  “We’ll do our best to help,” Henry promised.

  “We’re good detectives,” added Benny.

  “Detectives?” echoed Lottie.

  “These children have a real knack for tracking down clues,” Fran told her. “They’ve offered to help me solve a mystery.”

  “Oh?” Lottie raised her eyebrows.

  “Yes, indeed. The mystery fell into my lap a few weeks ago, when I was having repairs done in the front hall. Some of the floorboards were warped and needed replacing.” Fran looked around at each of the Aldens. “One of the workmen found this under a loose floorboard.” She gave the mysterious box a little shake.

  Violet knelt down beside Fran’s chair to get a closer look. “Oh, the box is decorated with pressed flowers.”

  “Yes, it’s quite lovely, really,” Fran responded. “And very old, too. I would guess that it’s been hidden away for a long time.”

  Jessie looked questioningly at her. “What makes you say that, Fran?”

  “Take a good look at the box, Jessie. See how faded the flowers are? Time takes its toll on pressed flowers, I’m afraid. The colors eventually fade.”

  “That’s good detective work,” praised Henry.

  Violet ran her fingers gently over the box. A little shiver went down her spine as she made a discovery. “The flowers are buttercups!”

  The others gathered round to check it out. Sure enough, the entire box was covered with nothing but buttercups.

  “Is that why you think the mystery has something to do with the runaway ghost?” Henry asked Fran.

  Nodding her head, Fran said, “There must be some kind of connection. I can feel it in my bones.”

  “But what’s inside the box?” Benny asked, his mouth full of ghost pie. He could hardly stand the suspense.

  With a quick motion, Fran flipped open the lid and removed a single sheet of paper, yellowed with age. “There’s a riddle inside,” she said. “And a rather strange one at that!” Putting on her reading glasses, Fran began to read aloud:

  “The thing you hold

  Is the thing you seek,

  A treasure waits,

  Shadows speak.

  Solve this riddle,

  And you will see,

  You’re ready to solve,

  Riddle three.”

  The Aldens stared wide-eyed at Fran. Then Benny said, “Riddle three?” He looked confused.

  “I guess there was once a riddle one that led to the secret hiding place under the floorboards,” Fran said.

  “Well, one thing’s for sure,” said Jessie, “nobody ever figured it out.”

  “What makes you say that, Jessie?” Benny asked.

  “Because the box was still in its hiding place, Benny,” she explained.

  “Oh, right!” Benny said.

  “Just think,” put in Fran, “if I hadn’t decided to spiff up the front hall, the box would still be there.”

  Benny was deep in thought. “But shadows can’t speak, can they?” he asked, his mind still on the riddle.

  Shaking his head, Henry said, “I’ve never heard of it.”

  Fran leaned close, as though about to share a secret. “It might have something to do with the elephants.”

  “Elephants?” Benny almost choked on his pie. “What elephants?”

  Fran reached into the box again and pulled out a handful of elephants cut from black paper. “There’s a whole herd of these … these shadow elephants inside,” she said, as if not knowing what else to call them.

  “Hey, that makes it a shadowbox!” Benny realized.

  Fran laughed a little. “Yes, I suppose it is a kind of shadowbox.”

  Everyone had a turn inspecting the contents of the box. After thumbing through the shadow elephants once … twice … three times, Henry drew his eyebrows together in a frown.

  “I don’t get it,” he said. “What do these elephants have to do with the riddle?”

  The other Aldens crowded around to take another look.

  “Each of the elephants looks different, but their trunks all point up,” Jessie noticed. “Do you think that could mean anything?”

  “You’re right, Jessie, they’re all like that,” Henry said with a nod.

  “But why are their trunks pointing up?” Benny wanted to know. “And what does the riddle mean?”

  Henry scratched behind his neck. “Beats me!”

  “What’d I tell you?” said Fran. “It doesn’t make sense, does it?” She took a sip of her apple cider.

  The Aldens sat in puzzled silence. They had never come across a mystery like this one before. If shadows did talk, then what would the shadow elephants want to tell them?

  Lottie spoke up. “If you ask me, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably just a game of some kind,” she said matter-of-factly. “That box has probably been hidden away since the Victorian era. Weren’t parlor games popular back then?”

  Benny wrinkled up his forehead. “What’s the Victorian era?”

  “The olden days,” explained Henry. “Before computers or television.”

  “They didn’t have electricity back then,” added Jessie.

  Lottie nodded. “That’s right. In the evenings, they’d read or sew or play games. This easily could be part of a game.”

  Fran had to admit it was possible. “My great-great-grandmother Anne was a very creative person. She loved coming up with games to keep her children amused.”

  Benny’s face fell. “You mean, there might not be a treasure waiting?”

  “Maybe not,” said Jessie. “But we won’t know for sure until we do some investigating.”

  “Why get yourselves all worked up about nothing?” insisted Lottie. “If there ever was a treasure, it must be long gone.”

  Henry and Jessie exchanged glances. Why was Lottie so sure there wasn’t a treasure?

  Before they had a chance to ask any questions, Lottie suddenly got to her feet. “Well, I think I’ll go up to my room and paint for a while,” she said.

  “Oh, what are you painting, Lottie?” Violet asked.

  Lottie shrugged a little. “Nothing special,” she said.

  Fran chuckled. “Lottie’s very hush-hush about her art. I haven’t been able to get a word out of her.”

  “Oh,” Benny said, disappointed. “So we can’t see it?”

  Lottie shook her head firmly and went upstairs.

  Violet couldn’t help wondering why Fran’s boarder was being so secretive.

  CHAPTER 4

  Moooo!

  CLANG, CLANG. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG.

  Violet blinked and sat up in bed. It was the middle of the night. The house was dark and quiet. What had awakened her?

  “Jessie?” she whispered, rubbing her arms to warm them.

  Jessie didn’t answer. She was sleeping soundly.

  Violet slid out of bed and padded across the room. She looked through the window down on the moonlit garden. Everything was still. The only sound was of crickets singing.

  “Violet?” Jessie began to stir. “Is something wrong?”

  “I … I thought I heard something,” Violet said.

  “Like what?” Jessie asked drowsily.

  “A clanging sound,” Violet whispered, “like a bell ringing.”

  Jessie yawned. “It was probably just a dream.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” Violet said as she climbed back into bed. But there was a part of her that wasn’t sure at all.

  The next morning, after a big breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausages, fresh fruit, and cinnamon toast, the Aldens set off with Fran for a walking tour of Cedarburg. Violet brought her camera along to take snapshots of the old mills that stood on the banks of Cedar Creek. As they walked through town, they stopped here and there to browse in several of the interesting little shops.

  “This must be Cora’s store,” Henry said, tilting his head back to see the sign
above one of the shops. The bright blue letters spelled ROBACK’S ANTIQUE SHOP.

  “It sure is,” Fran said. “And it’s a great place to go treasure hunting.”

  “Treasure hunting?” Benny looked surprised.

  “Treasures from the past, Benny,” Fran explained. “Come and see.”

  As the Aldens stepped inside, their gaze took in all the old-fashioned picture frames, coal-oil lamps, braided rugs, stiff-backed chairs, and dusty old books that filled the shop. Every nook and cranny was overflowing with antiques.

  “These old treasures have seen better days,” Fran told them. “Every little scratch and scuff mark is a clue about the past.”

  “Fran!” Cora walked toward them, looking surprised. “I’m glad you stopped by.”

  Fran smiled a little. “Did you think I’d stay away?” she asked.

  “I thought you might still be upset,” Cora said. She bit her lip nervously. “I sure hope there are no hard feelings about that article. I wouldn’t want it to come between us.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve forgotten all about it,” Fran replied — a bit stiffly, Jessie thought.

  Cora let out a long breath. “That’s a load off my mind.” She noticed someone waiting by the counter and hurried away.

  Fran went over to check out a basket of wooden clothes pins. Henry and Jessie walked over to the stamp collections. Benny dug deep into a bin of old cookie cutters. And Violet looked at some antique box cameras.

  A short while later, Benny held up a cookie cutter shaped like a cow. “Look!” He tugged on Violet’s arm. “Do we have enough money to get this for Mrs. McGregor?” Mrs. McGregor was the Aldens’ housekeeper, and an excellent cook.

  Violet counted her change. “Good idea, Benny. Looks like we have enough.”

  As they waited in line, Benny said, “Now Mrs. McGregor can make ghost cookies — the kind that disappear just like that!” He snapped his fingers.

  Violet laughed. “Oh, Benny! Mrs. McGregor’s cookies always disappear when you’re around.”

  As they stepped up to the counter, Cora gave them a big smile. “Found something, did you?”

  Benny nodded. “A ghost cookie cutter.”

  “Well, now, that is quite a find.” Cora chuckled as she took the money that Violet handed her.