Finders Keepers Mystery (2 page)

Henry said, “I’ll go open the curtains on that window over there to let in some more light.”

“Good idea,” Lina said. “But be careful.”

Henry wriggled between two boxes, his feet kicking up dust. A moment later, he’d opened the sagging, faded curtains. Sunlight poured into the attic, and dust swirled from the curtains, thick as smoke. It was Henry’s turn to sneeze.

“No one’s been in this room for hundreds of years, I think,” said Benny. “Like in a fairy tale.”

“I don’t know about hundreds of years, but it’s been a long time,” agreed Lina. “There are probably all sorts of great treasures up here.”

Benny’s eyes lit up. “Pirate treasure?” he said excitedly.

Lina laughed. “I was thinking more of old junk that would be interesting to uncover. But, you know” She trailed off.

“What?” Benny asked.

“Well, people say my Great-great-aunt Hope had a hidden treasure,” Lina said casually.

“What do you mean?” asked Violet.

“I mean, she hid something valuable in this house. Nobody knows what it was. It could have been the money she saved for her wedding or a silver tea set that she inherited. Whatever it was, nobody ever found it. The story probably isn’t even true.”

“A treasure! Let’s start looking now!” Benny exclaimed.

“Hold on, Benny,” Henry said. He smiled at his younger brother. “We can look for treasure, but we can also help clean the attic.”

“That would be just as good as finding treasure, getting all this cleaned up. And then I could have a yard sale,” Lina said.

Jessie’s eyes sparkled. “A yard sale? We’d love to help!” she said.

“We can get started right away,” Violet volunteered.

Lina was surprised. “Are you sure? It’s a lot of work.”

Henry smiled at her. “That’s what neighbors are for.”

“Well, okay then,” said Lina. “And thanks.” She paused and looked around. “Let’s have some lemonade and cookies first.” She glanced down. “And a bowl of water for Watch. Then we’ll go to work on this attic.”

The Aldens and Lina worked hard all afternoon. They dusted and swept. They opened and organized boxes full of books and shoes and even old hats. Lina decided that she could use lots of the old furniture, so Henry and Jessie helped her clear out one corner of the attic where she would store it until she needed it.

After just a few hours, they had used up all of Lina’s soap and polish. Violet helped make a list of cleaning supplies they would need for the next day. “I’ll get poster paper and paint, too, for the yard sale signs,” Lina said, making a note on the list.

As he worked, Benny kept an eye out for hidden treasure.

But of all the things they found, nothing seemed to be of much value. Benny was very disappointed.

Just when he was about to give up hope, they uncovered an old cedar trunk in the back corner of the attic.

“A treasure chest!” Benny cried. Lina unhooked the latch and lifted the trunk’s heavy lid. A faint odor of cedar reached Benny’s nose. He caught a glimpse of faded green silk lining the curved top of the trunk.

“Yes,” said Lina. “You could say that.”

They all crowded around and peered inside. There in the trunk, as ornate and colorful as a necklace of jewels, was a carefully folded quilt.

“Oh,” said Violet in awe. “It’s perfect.”

Carefully Lina lifted out the quilt. It was folded in layers of tissue paper, and Violet gathered these up while Jessie and Henry helped Lina spread the quilt over a nearby chair.

“What a beautiful quilt!” said Lina. “It’s like something from a museum!”

“Look! More quilts,” Benny said, leaning over the trunk’s edge.

Lina and the Aldens unfolded five more quilts from the old trunk, each more amazing than the one before. They admired the splashes of color and the tiny, even stitches that held the quilts together.

“Who could have made all these?” Violet wondered aloud.

“My great-great-aunt, Hope Bidwell,” said Lina.

“How do you know?” asked Benny.

“Well, my grandfather had a quilt she made, and he always told us about how talented Aunt Hope was at quilting. She sold some of her quilts to make a little extra money when this house was still a farmhouse. The rest she made for the family as gifts for weddings or christenings or birthdays,” Lina explained.

“Look at this!” exclaimed Jessie, pointing. In the corner of one of the quilts, the letters HB were embroidered in green. “HB — Hope Bidwell! She signed it with her initials.”

“Green was her favorite color, my grandfather said.” Lina smiled. “It’s mine, too. Apparently, Hope’s wedding quilt had lots of green in it.”

“Wedding quilt?” said Violet.

“The quilt she made for her marriage. It’s sort of a legend in our family, even more than her hidden treasure. Hope was going to marry her true love, you see,” Lina explained. “Robert, his name was. After their engagement, Robert went on a trip. While he was gone, Hope sewed a beautiful quilt that they would use when he came home to marry her.”

“But he didn’t come home,” Jessie guessed.

Lina nodded. “Very good, Jessie. No, he didn’t come home. The very day Hope finished her wedding quilt, word came that Robert had died of a sudden illness. Hope was overcome with grief. All she had left of him were the letters he’d sent. And nobody ever saw that wedding quilt again.”

Violet clasped her hands together. “Oh, what a sad story,” she said.

“I know,” said Lina. “I was sort of hoping Robert’s letters might turn up in the attic. That and her wedding quilt would mean so much to me.” She sighed. “But these other quilts are pretty wonderful, too.”

“Hey, wait!” Benny said, his voice muffled as he leaned down into the chest. “There’s one more quilt in here!”

Lina rushed over and lifted the last quilt from the trunk. This quilt wasn’t beautiful like the others. It was made of rough gray wool, and it didn’t have careful, perfect stitching or embroidery on it as the other quilts did. It looked as if someone had just wanted to finish it in a hurry.

“Oh,” said Benny disappointed. “That’s not the wedding quilt. It’s not pretty at all. It doesn’t belong with these other quilts.” He dropped his end of the old quilt on a chair. Lina smoothed the rough fabric and set the quilt aside.

“Maybe it was just an everyday quilt and these were special quilts for company,” said Lina. She reached out to touch a velvet patch on the nearest quilt. “I know these are special. I wish I could learn more about them.”

“We could look them up at the library,” said Jessie. “Quilts, I mean.”

“And you could call a museum,” said Violet. “The State History Museum, maybe?”

“Good ideas,” said Lina. “I’ll call the museum first thing tomorrow.”

“And we’ll go to the library as soon as we finish helping you get ready for your yard sale,” said Jessie.

“Meanwhile, we should put these quilts back in the trunk,” Henry said.

“Yes, to keep them safe,” agreed Lina.

The Aldens and Lina carefully folded the quilts and set them back into the trunk. Lina spread the gray everyday quilt on top of the others, then closed the lid.

As they left the attic, Lina glanced back at the cedar trunk. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “when my grandfather told me stories about Great-great-aunt Hope’s hidden treasure, I thought it must be gold or silver or jewels. But these quilts are a treasure.”

“Yes,” said Violet softly. “They are.”

“Achoo! AAAAAA-CHOOO!” Those were the first sounds the Aldens heard from Edward Munsey. Mr. Munsey was a quilt expert sent by the State History Museum. He had just followed Lina into the attic. The four Aldens had been there all morning helping Lina sort through things for the yard sale.

“It’s not as dusty as it was when we first got here,” Benny said helpfully.

“Ah, oooh, urgh,” said Mr. Munsey, his round face half hidden by a large handkerchief. He whisked the handkerchief away, revealing his watery green eyes. “Allergies,” he finally said. He managed to smile. “To dust. Maybe from all the time I’ve spent in people’s attics looking at what they call treasure.”

At the mention of treasure, Benny perked up. It was a word he liked. “Lina’s grandfather said her great-great-aunt had hidden trea — ”

Interrupting quickly Lina said, “Mr. Munsey, I’d like you to meet my neighbors, Henry, Violet, Benny, and Jessie Alden.”

“And Watch,” added Benny, pointing toward Watch, who was now curled up in the sunlight from the attic window on a faded pillow. Watch raised his head at the sound of his name — and sneezed, too.

That made the Aldens and Lina laugh.

“I hope you are not allergic to dogs,” said Jessie.

“As a matter of fact, and most surprisingly, no,” said Mr. Munsey. “Now, am I to look at quilts, or, er, treasure?”

“Quilts,” said Lina, stepping over to the cedar chest. She raised the lid, moved the gray quilt to one side, and lifted out the first of Hope’s masterpieces. Henry, Violet, and Jessie helped Lina spread it out while Benny gathered up the delicate old tissue paper in which it had been folded.

Mr. Munsey blinked. He cleared his throat. He leaned close to the quilt, so close his nose almost touched it. Then he whipped a small magnifying glass and a small flashlight from his pocket. He clicked on the light and began to examine the quilt through the magnifying glass.

“Ah, um, hmmm,” he murmured as he traced the quilt’s stitches with the flashlight and magnifying glass. “Oh, hmmm, yes.”

“Yes,” he repeated, straightening up. His green eyes were very bright. “Yes, indeed. Treasure, Ms. Diaz. Treasure, indeed. And there are more of these, you say?”

“Five more,” Lina said, and she and the Aldens produced the quilts from the cedar chest, one by one.

Mr. Munsey looked at each very, very carefully. “Flying Geese,” he murmured. “Log Cabin. Ah… the Nine Patch pattern. And look at this stitching, this detail!”

“What are you talking about?” asked Benny.

Mr. Munsey looked up almost as if he’d forgotten anyone else was in the attic with him. “The quilt patterns,” he explained. “Those are the names of the patterns of the quilts. This one is called Log Cabin, and that one is Flying Geese.”

“I don’t see any log cabins or geese flying,” said Benny.

“I think I do,” said Violet. “I mean, not real geese, but you can see a sort of pattern… like the wings of geese when they fly.”

“Exactly,” said Mr. Munsey. “Both Log Cabin and Flying Geese are very common quilt patterns. A couple of these others are a bit more unusual. All are, well, amazing.”

The quilt expert turned to Lina. “Your Great-great-aunt Hope had a wonderful way with color. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen finer stitching. These quilts are worth quite a bit of money.”

Lina reached out to stroke a green velvet patch on the Log Cabin quilt. “Yes,” she said simply.

“Perhaps you would consider giving them to the museum,” said Mr. Munsey. “We could see they are properly cared for and hang them up where many many people could enjoy them.”

With one last quick pat of the quilt, Lina looked up. “Hang them in a museum?” she said. “I don’t know.”

“They are very valuable. Unique. Irreplaceable. You don’t want anything to happen to them, which it easily could, stored in a chest in an attic,” said Mr. Munsey. He glanced toward the window. “Even sunlight will damage them.”

“The quilts have been here for a long, long time, and they’ve been safe,” Henry pointed out.

Mr. Munsey ignored Henry and kept his attention focused on Lina. “We should act quickly,” he urged. “If it’s money you want, I can try to arrange something. We’re not a wealthy museum, but we have resources.”

Laying a hand on Lina’s arm, Jessie said, “We’ll help you put the quilts back in the trunk, and you can think about it.”

“Yes,” said Lina. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll think about it.”

“Ms. Diaz, don’t take any unnecessary risks,” Mr. Munsey said sternly. “Leaving such valuable quilts lying around in an attic is foolish, at best.”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Munsey,” Lina said, smiling sweetly. “And don’t worry, I won’t take long to make my decision.”

“But the quilts,” sputtered Mr. Munsey. “The attic could flood. Or catch fire… or someone could steal them. As a collector myself, I can tell you that there are many people who would do anything to get a quilt like one of these — even steal one.”

“Who’s going to steal Hope’s quilts? No one knows they’re here except us,” said Violet.

Mr. Munsey shook his head. “People have ways of finding things out,” he said.

“Not if you don’t tell anyone,” Jessie replied.

Lina began folding the quilts before putting them back into the chest.

“You forgot to look at this quilt,” Benny said suddenly. “What about this one?”

Mr. Munsey glanced at the faded gray woolen quilt with rough knots holding it together. “Oh,” he said. “That’s what is called a hops or utility quilt. Quickly made just to keep someone warm. Very used, not in good condition compared to these other quilts. Look at the different colors of thread where it’s been repaired. Odd to find it signed and dated, but it does lend it a certain small value. Nothing compared to these others.”