by Ron Roy
The guys nodded and walked to their own cabin. They found Buzzy taping a paper on the door, next to the schedule.
“Hi, guys,” he said. “This is a chore list. All eight of you have to pitch in, but it shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes.”
Dink and Josh read the list. Next to Josh’s name they read SWEEP FRONT PORCH. Dink saw that his job was to straighten up the books and games shelf.
“Where are the brooms?” Josh asked Buzzy.
“In the closet inside the washhouse,” Buzzy told him. Josh hiked over while Dink began organizing the games and books. The other six boys were sweeping, dusting, smoothing out sleeping bags, and straightening their cubbies.
Ten minutes later, everyone was finished. “Super job, you guys,” Buzzy said, He looked at his watch. “It’s time to head back to the lodge for your clues to find the mystery map!”
They all ran to the picnic tables. When everyone was there, Angie stood on a bench and held up a paper bag.
“We’ve already hidden the twenty-six map pieces,” she said. “Now you can pick your clue cards that will help you find them.”
She walked around and let each kid put a hand in the bag and pull out a card.
Dink’s card had a big B written on the front. He turned the card over and found a feather taped there.
“What did you get?” Dink asked Josh and Ruth Rose, showing them his card.
“I have a G,” Ruth Rose said. “With a flower petal on the back.”
“Mine is M,” Josh said. He flipped the card over and found some brownish hairs taped in place.
“Okay, everyone has a card now,” Angie called out. “The letter is one clue, and the item on the back is a second clue. Have fun!”
“This is so cool,” Ruth Rose said. “But I think mine is too easy. G must stand for garden.”
“Yeah, but which garden?” Dink asked. “There are flowers planted everywhere!”
Dink took another look at his card and the feather on the back. “What do you guys think?” he asked.
“Easy,” Josh said. “Birdbath.”
“It could also be birdhouse or bird-feeder,” Ruth Rose said. “Whose clue should we do first?”
“Mine,” Dink said.
“Why you?” Josh asked.
“Because these are alphabet clues, and Dink comes before Josh and Ruth Rose in the alphabet!” Dink announced.
“Okay, let’s go see where the birds hang out,” Ruth Rose said.
The kids walked around the lodge. They waved to other kids wandering around with white cards in their hands.
They found a hummingbird feeder, but saw no ripped piece of map.
They peeked inside a birdhouse, but saw only twigs and dead grass.
“Look,” Josh said. He pointed to a few birds splashing in a birdbath.
The kids rushed over, scaring the birds into a nearby tree. The birdbath was made of a concrete bowl standing on a pedestal.
“I don’t see a piece of map,” Josh said.
Dink tipped the water out and removed the bowl. Underneath, stuck there with masking tape, was a piece of paper. “I found it!” he cried.
They all looked at the fragment of paper. Its edges were torn on all sides but one. That side had a dark blue line. Some pencil lines had been drawn on the paper, but they made no sense.
“One down, twenty-five to go,” Dink said.
“Let’s look for a garden,” Ruth Rose said, glancing at her own card.
“Wait a sec,” Josh said. He found a hose attached to the lodge and filled the birdbath with clean water.
The kids roamed around the lodge, checking out flower beds. They saw plenty of flowers, but no map pieces.
Ruth Rose studied the petal that was taped to the back of her card. She smelled it and rubbed her finger across its surface. “This looks like some of my grandmother’s roses,” she said. “Let’s look for roses.”
On the south side of the lodge, in full sunlight now, stood three rosebushes. Each held several pink blossoms. Ruth Rose compared the living blooms to the petal on her card. “I can’t tell if they’re the same,” she said. “This petal is drying up.”
There was a ring of smooth rocks surrounding the small garden. Ruth Rose began looking under each rock. She found the map piece under the last one.
The kids stared at the piece of paper in Ruth Rose’s hand. It was the same kind of paper Dink had found under the birdbath. This piece had four letters written on it in block letters.
“E-T and F-R,” Josh said. “They must be parts of words.”
“I wonder if the other kids are finding their pieces,” Dink said, looking around. Kids were all over the camp, each one carrying a card.
“Let’s look for yours now, Josh,” Ruth Rose said.
They studied the hairs that were taped on his card.
“M could stand for a lot of things,” Josh said. “Like marshmallow.”
“Marshmallows don’t have hair,” Ruth Rose reminded him.
“Duh,” Josh said.
“Do you think these are human hairs?” Dink asked. “Oh my gosh, they could be from Mario’s mustache!”
“Or Mademoiselle Musée’s hair!” Ruth Rose said.
“No,” Josh said. “These hairs are light brown with a little white. She has black hair, and Mario’s mustache is very dark brown.”
“They could be bristles from some kind of brush,” Dink said.
“I saw a lot of paint cans in the barn, and there are a bunch of brushes hanging on the wall,” Ruth Rose said. “We could try there.”
“But what about this M?” Josh asked, tapping his card.
“Maybe the brushes have labels,” Dink suggested. “We might find an M on a label.”
“It’s worth a look,” Josh said. The kids ran to the barn and peered in. A few other kids were in there, searching through stuff.
“Any luck?” one of Ruth Rose’s cabinmates asked.
“We found two,” Ruth Rose said.
“Cool!” the girl answered. “Some of the boys in Bear Cabin have found four already!”
Josh stood on a box and examined the row of upside-down paintbrushes. Some of the brush handles had labels, but none of the labels had an M. And the hairs on his card didn’t match any of the brush bristles.
“What about some other kind of brush?” Dink said, studying Josh’s clue card. “My dad used to have a shaving brush made of badger hairs. I wonder if Mario uses one.”
The kids raced to the kitchen. They found Mario stirring a big pot.
“How’s your treasure hunt going?” he asked.
“We found two, but we’re having a hard time with this one,” Josh said. He showed Mario the M on his card and the hairs on the back.
“Um, do you have a shaving brush like this?” Dink asked.
Mario glanced at the card. “Nope. I use an electric razor,” he said.
“Well, thanks anyway,” Josh said.
The kids sat on the steps facing the barn.
“Guys, we’re stupid!” Dink said all of a sudden. “M is for moose, and there’s a moose head over the fireplace in the dining room. I’ll bet these are moose hairs!”
The kids raced through the kitchen and into the dining room. Mademoiselle Musée was gone. The small painting she had shown them was on the table, partly cleaned. Now they could see a row of trees and some clouds.
“How do I get up there to Mr. Moose?” Josh asked.
“I’ll see if Mario has a stepladder,” Ruth Rose said. She scampered back toward the kitchen.
There were framed photographs, vases, and other small objects on the mantel below the moose head. Josh began looking under or inside each one.
Dink peeked into the great room to see if Mademoiselle was there. She was not, but Dink noticed several framed paintings stacked on a sofa. He could only see the top one, a picture of some Native Americans walking along a path near a river. To Dink, the picture looked freshly cleaned. He assumed Mademoiselle Musée had put t
hese here to be rehung on the walls of the great room.
“Got one,” Ruth Rose said, carrying a metal stepladder over to Josh.
He climbed on it and held his card up to the hairs on the moose’s face and beard.
“The color looks right, but the moose hairs are thicker than these,” Josh said. He tugged a few hairs from the moose head.
He came down off the ladder. “See,” he said, holding the moose hairs next to those on his card. “Mine are thinner.”
“How about artist’s paintbrushes?” Ruth Rose said. “Some of my grandmother’s brushes have hairs that look like the ones on Josh’s card.”
“Maybe,” Josh said. “And this M could stand for Mademoiselle Musée. She has some brushes in her trunk.”
“Yeah, but she wouldn’t want us messing with them,” Dink said.
Josh walked over to Mademoiselle Musée’s trunk, and Dink followed him. There were faded labels on the sides and top. One of the labels said PROPERTY OF MURN THE MAGICIAN.
“Who’s Murn?” Josh asked.
“Maybe Mademoiselle Musée got the trunk from a magician,” Dink said. “He could’ve kept all his magic stuff inside, like she does with her cleaning things.”
The upright trunk was closed. On the left side, there were three latches that held the lid shut.
“Should we open it?” Ruth Rose asked, standing next to Josh. “We wouldn’t touch anything, just look for the map piece, right?”
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt anything to just take a quick peek,” Dink said. “There’s no lock on it.”
Josh reached out and flipped the top latch. The lid stayed shut. He flipped the next latch down, and the lid swung open sideways, like a door. But instead of shelves holding jars and other supplies, the kids were looking at the Grandma Moses painting. There was a secret compartment inside the door of the trunk!
“What’s this doing here?” Dink asked. “Why hasn’t she hung it back on the wall?”
“There are more paintings behind this one,” Josh said.
Dink counted five behind the Grandma Moses.
“Maybe she stores them in this hollow door until she’s ready to frame them again,” Ruth Rose suggested.
Dink reached out a finger and touched the paint on the Grandma Moses painting. It was dry. He ran his thumb along the edges of the fiberboard. They felt rough and bumpy.
A thought was trying to force its way out of Dink’s brain. He knew it was important by the way his arms erupted into goose bumps. But before he could pin the thought down, he heard footsteps on the stairs.
“Mademoiselle Musée!” Ruth Rose mouthed.
Dink swung the trunk lid shut and flipped the latches back into place. “Let’s go before she sees us,” he whispered to Josh and Ruth Rose. They slipped through the dining room door and headed for their cabins.
The kids jogged toward the trees behind Moose Cabin. When they came to the fence, they vaulted over it. Once they were in the woods, Dink stopped short.
“What’s the matter?” Ruth Rose asked, catching her breath.
Josh flopped on the ground.
“Guys, I think Mademoiselle is stealing the paintings we saw in that secret compartment in her trunk!” Dink said.
“Stealing them?” Josh asked.
Dink nodded. “Can you think of another reason she’d have those paintings hidden inside the trunk like that?”
“Maybe she just doesn’t want them lying around where anybody could see them,” Ruth Rose said. “Especially that Grandma Moses, which is real valuable.”
“Or she could be waiting till the paint is dry enough before she frames them,” Josh put in.
Dink shook his head. “The paint is dry,” he said. “I felt it.”
Josh stood up and brushed pine needles from his knees. “Well, what should we do?”
“I don’t know,” Dink said. “But I’m going to keep my eye on her. And that trunk!”
Ruth Rose looked at her watch. “We have three minutes to get to the picnic tables,” she said. “Detective Robb will be waiting for us.”
“Maybe we should tell him about what we saw in the trunk,” Josh said.
“I don’t know,” Dink said. “I could be wrong. Anyway, we’d better get over there.”
The kids jogged to the picnic tables and found places to sit. Everyone else was there. Mademoiselle Musée was standing next to Detective Robb.
“So how many of you have followed your card clues and found the map piece?” Detective Robb asked.
Almost every hand went up. Only a couple of kids, including Josh, had not been successful yet.
“Okay, maybe you can find ’em later today,” Detective Robb said.
He turned to Mademoiselle Musée. “In case you haven’t met her yet, this is Mademoiselle Musée. She has a fascinating job. She cleans and restores old paintings,” he said. “She lives in France, but was hired by the Darbys to come here and clean their paintings. She has seen thousands of signatures, and some of them have been forged, right. Mademoiselle?”
She bowed her head. “There are many clever forgers out there,” she said.
“Will you tell the kids how you can tell the difference between a real signature and a forged one?” Detective Robb asked.
“Of course,” she said. “There are four things to look for.” Dink noticed that she was still wearing white latex gloves when she raised one finger.
“First, study the overall look of the signature,” Mademoiselle Musée went on. “You may not be able to say exactly what it is, but there is something different about this signature.”
She held up a second finger. “Next, the length of the signature. Each time we sign our name, our signature is almost exactly the same length. Try it sometime. But forged signatures are often shorter or longer than the actual signature.”
She went on to describe how a forger will lift his pen off the paper as he studies the signature he’s trying to copy. When the forger puts his pen back on the paper, he leaves a tiny space. Sometimes, she went on, there will be a space and a tiny ink blot if the forger is using a ballpoint pen.
Mademoiselle Musée held up her fourth finger. “Most forgers are nervous,” she said with a little smile. “Their hand trembles as they are forging a name. Experts can spot signs of these hand tremors.”
She told Detective Robb that she had work to do. The kids all clapped, and she disappeared into the house.
“How would you like to see if you can all pick out a forged signature?” Detective Robb asked the kids.
“Cool!” one of the Bear Cabin boys said.
Detective Robb passed out a sheet of paper and a pencil to everyone. Each sheet was covered with signatures.
“In each row of three signatures, two are real and one is a forgery,” Detective Robb said. “Circle the one you think is fake.”
Dink glanced down at his paper. He saw George Washington, Elvis Presley, and a bunch of other famous names. He looked for spaces between letters and tiny blots of ink. In the George Washington row, he circled the one signature that was shorter than the other two.
After five minutes, Detective Robb asked the kids to stop. “Now I’d like you to try forging a signature. Pick any name on your paper and try to copy it exactly. I think you’ll find it’s pretty difficult.”
Detective Robb walked around and looked at the kids’ papers. “Say, that’s an excellent replica of Abe Lincoln’s signature,” he said as he walked past Josh. “I’ll bet you draw or paint, am I right?”
Josh nodded. “I like to draw a lot,” he said.
“I thought so,” Detective Robb said. “You’d make a good forger!”
“Hey, Josh, forge me a check for a million dollars!” Brendan called out.
Everyone laughed except Dink. He put his pencil down next to his paper. The thought that had been buzzing in his brain like a bee in a bottle finally surfaced.
“It’s almost eleven-thirty,” Detective Robb called out. “We have to stop now. Tomorrow I’ll
show you how to find and lift fingerprints.”
“Don’t leave yet,” Dink said quietly to Josh and Ruth Rose.
The three of them stayed seated while the rest of the kids wandered toward the cabins. Detective Robb picked up his coffee mug and went into the kitchen.
Josh looked at Dink. “What’s going on? You look like you sat on a tack.”
“I figured out how Mademoiselle Musée is stealing the paintings,” Dink said very quietly. “I think she’s making copies of them and keeping the real ones.”
Josh and Ruth Rose just stared at him.
“What do you mean? How do you know?” asked Ruth Rose.
“I can’t prove it, but listen,” Dink said. He started by telling Josh and Ruth Rose about the yellow paint he’d gotten on his pajama sleeve.
“When we snuck in to return the ring last night, I looked at the painting she left under the towel. I must have dragged my sleeve across it,” Dink said. “The paint was still wet! We thought that was the real Grandma Moses painting. But I think it was a copy that Mademoiselle Musée painted. I think she hid the real one inside the hollow door on the trunk. We just saw it there!”
“So where’s the copy?” Josh asked.
Dink remembered the stack of framed paintings on the sofa.
“I think it’s in the great room, waiting to be hung on the wall,” he said. “When the Darbys see it, they’ll think it’s the real one.”
“They’d never even know the difference!” Ruth Rose said. “They’d just think she did an excellent job of cleaning it.”
Dink nodded. “Remember how Mademoiselle Musée told us Grandma Moses painted on fiberboard?” Dink asked. “Well, my dad uses fiberboard for projects. It’s really hard stuff. He has to cut it with a power saw. The painting we saw under the towel had really smooth edges, like it was cut with a modern saw. But the painting inside the trunk door had rough edges. Like they were cut by an old person with a handsaw.”
“What a scam!” Josh said. “I’ll bet she looked up all the Darbys’ paintings in that book of hers. When she found ones that were valuable, she made copies and hid the real ones in the trunk door!”
