Mystery at Peacock Hall (6 page)

“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 demonstrating 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.”

Whistling, Roscoe left.

“I don’t trust that guy,” Henry said to the other children. “Let’s make sure he really leaves.”

T
he Aldens ran upstairs to a room with windows that overlooked the front lawn.

“This is where we found the old paper,” Benny said.

“And now it’s gone,” Violet added.

Henry went over to the windows. Roscoe was standing by the empty goldfish pond. He glanced around, as if waiting for someone.

“I wonder who he’s waiting for,” Henry said.

Jessie   and   the   others   joined   Henry, pulling the dusty draperies back so they could see.

Then an older man joined Roscoe. It was Tate.

Violet watched the two men. “They seem awfully happy.”

“Tate did say Roscoe came here a lot when he was a kid,” Henry said. “I guess they’re still good friends. But how can Tate be laughing when he’s about to lose his home? Where will he go?”

Jessie wasn’t listening. From here, she had a good view of the smokehouse. A light shone in the single window.

“Look!” she cried.

A small figure passed in front of the window. Who was it?

“Somebody’s in the smokehouse,” Violet said.

“Whoever it is, Tate doesn’t want anyone to know,” Jessie said, remembering the times Tate had scolded them.

“But he’s busy with Roscoe,” Henry pointed out. “We could go out the back way and he’d never see us. We could find out who Tate’s mysterious guest is.”

Benny was already heading for the door. “Let’s go!”

The back staircase came out by the kitchen. As the children tiptoed past the hallway, they glimpsed Cousin Althea sitting alone in the living room.

Violet felt sorry for her. If only Grandfather would come back with good news!

The lawn was damp with dew. Violet’s sneakers were soaked by the time they reached the smokehouse. Above the piney woods a round moon was rising. It was an evening for surprises, she thought.

Benny peered into the peacock pen. Both birds were roosting on the roof of the little house. At least the peacock’s cry wouldn’t give them away.

He took the lead as they crept single file around the corner of the smokehouse.

The front door was open!

Benny was ready to charge in when Henry pulled him back.

“Let me go first,” Henry whispered. “I’ll make sure it’s safe.”

Cautiously he stuck his head inside the door.

“Might as well come in,” called a young voice.

Violet knew that voice. “David!” she exclaimed, rushing past Henry and inside the little building.

David sat on an old chair at a table. He’d been reading a book. He wore a pair of jeans with a hole in one knee.

“Mom’s out,” he said quietly. “She’s picking flowers to finish an order.”

Violet gazed around the small room. Bunches of dried herbs and flowers hung from the wooden ceiling beams. Fresh flowers stood in buckets and canning jars of water. An herb wreath lay on a larger table. Dishes stacked in the tiny sink and a basket of folded laundry were the final clues.

“You and your mother live here!” she declared. “You’re the secret Tate’s been keeping from us!”

David sighed. “That’s right.” He indicated a worn-out sofa and another old chair. “I knew you four wouldn’t give up till you found out the truth. Sit down, everyone.”

When the Aldens made themselves comfortable, David began his story.

“Mom and I lost our lease back last fall. The lease on our apartment,” he explained. “Our landlord raised the rent. Mom couldn’t pay it, so we had to leave. But we didn’t have anyplace to go.”

Jessie felt a pang of sympathy. “We know what you mean. When our parents died, we didn’t have a home, either.”

“So we moved into an old boxcar,” Henry said. “And that’s where we lived till Grandfather found us and took us to live with him.”

“I wish I had a grandfather like yours,” David said wistfully. “But it’s just Mom and me. Most of the time we get along pretty good. But this past winter . . .” He stopped.

Violet thought David looked as if he was going to cry. “How did you meet Tate?” she asked gently.

“He was driving along the highway and he saw us walking. He stopped to give us a ride. When he found out we didn’t have anyplace to live, he said we were coming home with him and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.” David smiled at the memory. “Tate can be pretty bossy sometimes.”

“Why didn’t he tell Cousin Althea?” Henry wanted to know. “Why is he keeping you and your mother a secret?”

“Tate was going to tell Mrs. Randolph. But then Mrs. Randolph got that tax letter, and Tate thought she had enough to worry about. So he never told her about us.”

“Were you going to live here forever?” Benny asked. He liked the smokehouse. It was small and neat, like their boxcar.

David shook his head. “Mom opened the herb stand on the highway. She was saving money to get us an apartment in town. But then the county made her shut down her stand. I don’t know what’s going to happen now.”

The children were silent a moment.

Jessie absently pulled the scrap of denim from the pocket of her skirt.

“What’s that?” David asked.

Jessie flushed. “It’s a piece of material. We saw your pants hanging on the clothesline and wondered if the material came from your jeans.”

As if to answer her question, David got up and opened a bureau drawer. He pulled out two pairs of denim pants, both with holes in the knees. “These belong to my mom. She can’t afford to buy us new clothes.”

Jessie felt worse than ever. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean —”

“We aren’t being nosy,” Henry put in. “We found the material on the ledge beneath the girls’ bedroom window. Somebody tried to break in the first night we got here. He — or she — tore their pants getting away.”

David’s eyes widened. “You don’t think I did it? Or my mother?”

“No, of course not!” Violet said quickly. “But that was before we knew you and Heather lived here in the smokehouse.”

Jessie stuffed the scrap back in her pocket. “We keep finding clues, but they lead nowhere.”

“I might be able to help,” David told her. “You all came here Sunday evening?”

“That’s right.” Henry leaned forward with interest. “What do you know about that night, David?”

“It was warm and I was out taking a walk,” David replied. “Tate told Mom and me that Mrs. Randolph’s relatives were coming, so we’d have to stay out of sight.”

“Did you see something?” Violet asked anxiously. This was one mystery she definitely wanted solved.

David shook his head. “I didn’t see anything, but I heard something. A car with a loud engine.”

“Whose car was it?” asked Jessie.

But Henry already knew. A certain Jeep had a powerful engine. “It was Roscoe Janney, wasn’t it?”

“Only one car around here that sounds like his Jeep,” David said. “He must have parked it along the road instead of in the driveway, so nobody would see him. He probably walked up the driveway.”

Henry nodded. This made sense. “Roscoe is friends with Tate, so he could have easily borrowed a ladder from the gardener. But why would he break into his aunt’s house?”