Mystery in the Sand (8 page)
“Never mind, Ben,” said Jessie. “It really isn’t our business.”
“I know it isn’t,” Benny said. “But I’m making it my business. I really want to know. I know it isn’t polite to ask.”
Miss Smith suddenly said, “I don’t blame you a bit. I think you are a very polite boy.”
Miss Lane nodded this time. “I don’t blame you, either. We don’t want to see people or talk to people so we walk on the beach at night. We like the middle of the night. That way we get some exercise and fresh air, and we can sleep in the daytime if we want to.”
“You might call us night people, just like our cats,” Miss Smith said.
Miss Lane said, “It was on one of those nights that I lost my locket.”
“Oh, your locket with R.L. on the cover!” Benny exclaimed. “Wait and I will get it for you. I put it in a safe hiding place inside.” In a moment Benny dropped the gold locket into Miss Lane’s hand. “We know now the R.L. is for Ruth Lane.”
“No,” said Miss Lane, shaking her head. “It really doesn’t stand for Ruth Lane. It just
happened
that way. It first belonged to my grandmother and her name was Rachel Lester. Then my mother had the locket and her name happened to be Rose Lawrence. Then I got it, and my name happened to be Ruth Lane.”
“Isn’t that a surprising story!” Benny said.
“Yes, three generations and all R.L., but for three different names. I always thought it was very strange. And I am so glad to have the locket back. It belongs on this gold chain I am wearing.”
Sure enough, Miss Lane had a thick braided gold chain hanging almost to her waist. She took it off and slipped the chain through the locket.
“Found in the sand,” said Benny. “When do you think you lost it?”
“Oh, just before you came to the trailer. We looked for it the night your aunt and uncle went away and before you came. But every night we walk the beach.”
“Our midnight walkers!” Benny exclaimed. “You walk very fast.”
“Indeed yes.”
“Does anyone ever follow you?” asked Benny.
“Oh, yes, many times somebody follows us. We probably look like men because we wear old jackets and pants. Only just the other night a man in a cape followed us. But we knew who he was, so we didn’t mind.”
“You knew who he was?” repeated Benny.
“Oh, yes, he is a famous writer, and he lives down the beach in the last cottage. He always wears a cape.”
“Do you know his name?” asked Violet.
“Oh, yes. Everybody even in Beachwood knows him. He is Daniel Lee.”
The Aldens looked at each other. “We know him, too,” said Henry. “It was his metal-finder that found your locket.”
“No,” said Miss Lane, really smiling now. “It was Benny who found my locket.”
“So it was,” agreed Jessie. “I guess everyone knew who Mr. Lee was except us. And we really thought we knew him best of all.”
“How did you get to know him?” asked Miss Lane.
“He came by and we spoke to him,” replied Benny. “We just said ‘Good morning,’ and he said said ‘Good morning.’ It’s easy to make friends.”
Miss Lane said thoughtfully, “It’s easy for you, Benny. You are like that. I wouldn’t know how to begin after all these years.”
“You have already begun,” said Violet gently.
Henry said, “We did see both of you walking along the beach at night. Of course we thought you were two men. We saw the man in a cape following you.”
Miss Smith said rather shyly, “I think Mr. Lee likes to feel he is looking after us. Old people don’t sleep very well at night, and they like to be useful.”
Benny said, “I believe you are right. But I have a question to ask. I found footprints in the sand one morning and this note that said ‘Ali thanks you. We all thank you.’ Did you put it there, or was it a child?”
Miss Lane and Miss Smith looked at each other and really laughed.
Miss Lane said, “We might as well tell you the whole story. Mary and I aren’t used to talking much. We don’t even talk much to each other. But we both began to think we hadn’t properly thanked you for saving our house from the fire. All Mary said was ‘Good.’ And that wasn’t really enough. So I went down early and put the note under a stone. It wasn’t a child who put the note there. See! I have small feet.” She showed them her tiny feet. After all, she was a tiny person.
“Well, that’s settled,” said Benny. “Now one more question. How did you know where we lived?”
Miss Smith answered, “I knew there were four of you. I looked out of the big back window the day of the fire and saw the blue car. We had seen this car parked behind your trailer. So we put two and two together.”
Benny said, “And I thought I was the only one who put two and two together!”
Everyone laughed.
“I understand a lot of things now,” Benny said. “But, Miss Smith, why wouldn’t you take the locket back when we brought it to your house the first time?”
Miss Smith did not answer right away. Then she said slowly, “Well, you took me by surprise. I didn’t have much time to think. And it wasn’t my locket. If I took it, you would know it belonged to somebody else, with R.L. on the cover. And then you might have found out that I did not live alone.”
“I think I see,” said Jessie. “People didn’t understand you, and you didn’t understand them.”
“Maybe,” said Miss Lane. “But we really must go home now. Violet, will you come again tomorrow so that I can finish your picture?”
“I will,” Violet said happily.
“I’ll take you home,” Henry said.
“Oh, no,” said Miss Lane. “We can walk.”
Henry laughed. He said, “I wouldn’t think of letting you ladies walk that far.”
“When we walk at least two miles every night?”
“Even so, this time you are going to ride,” said Henry.
W
hen the last day at the beach came, Henry said, “Let’s telephone and ask Grandfather to come down for our last beach picnic.”
“He can meet our new friends—Mr. Lee, Miss Lane, and Miss Smith,” said Benny.
“And Miss Lane has finished the picture,” said Violet.
Jessie said, “We’ll have a picnic for everyone. I’m sure the ladies will enjoy it.”
Mr. Alden said he would be delighted to drive the station wagon down to the picnic. Benny and Violet could drive back with him, and Henry and Jessie could come in the blue car.
Jessie took charge of getting ready. She said, “You boys really sweep out the living room for Aunt Jane and Uncle Andy. We want to leave their trailer as clean as we found it. Violet can dust, and I’ll make sandwiches.”
Everyone bustled around. It did not take long to get everything in perfect order.
Jessie said, “We’ll put four chairs under the beach umbrella. We’ll use the table, too. Grandfather hates to hold a cup and saucer and a knife and fork and eat at the same time.”
“So do I,” Benny said.
“Well then, you sit up at the table, too,” replied Jessie. “We want everyone to be comfortable.”
Just then the station wagon pulled up behind the trailer. “Anybody home?” called a familiar voice.
“Grandfather!” cried Violet, “Come in.”
At almost the same moment, a voice from the beach called, “Are you expecting visitors?”
“Oh, Mr. Lee, come in,” Jessie said. “Grandfather just came, too.”
“Hi, Dan!” Mr.Alden said.
“Hi, James,” answered Mr. Lee, smiling.
“Do you two know each other?” asked Benny, very much surprised.
“Well, I should say we do,” replied Mr. Alden. “Dan and I have been friends in New York for many years. He knows all about you, and he enjoyed becoming acquainted.”
“Did you ask him to keep an eye on us?” demanded Benny.
“I did not. I always trust you to manage your own affairs and to come to the right person if you have any trouble.”
“It’s all my fault,” said Mr. Lee. “I couldn’t keep away. Every day I looked forward to coming down to visit. It was a pleasure and I am delighted it all turned out so well.”
“Couldn’t have been better,” said Grandfather.
“Yes, I can think of a way it might be even better,” said Mr. Lee, taking his usual chair. Looking at Mr. Alden he laughed and said, “This is my chair, James.”
“Yes, and this is mine. No sitting down on the sand for me. I might get down, but I don’t know how I would get up again.”
“I know,” said Benny. “Henry and I would pull you up, that’s what.”
“I have no doubt of that,” said Mr. Alden, and he looked off at the blue water. “And now what was your idea, Dan?”
Mr. Lee answered at once, “Ruth Lane is a good artist. Her paintings are sold all over New York. A great many people come here in the summer, and many of them must like Ruth Lane’s pictures of cats. I think Ruth Lane should have an art exhibit here in Beachwood.”
“That’s an interesting idea,” said Mr. Alden. “How did you know Miss Lane was here when no one else did?”
“Well, I have been coming here for a long time,” answered Mr. Lee. “I heard Miss Lane was living and working somewhere near here. I guessed she was in the old family home, the Tower House. But I knew she never welcomed people. People never saw her, just her friend and housekeeper, Miss Smith.”
“How did you find Miss Lane really did live in the Tower House?” Benny asked.
“Well, I thought the ladies had to go outdoors sometimes just for a change from the house. I found they liked long walks on the beach at night. I thought if I followed them, Miss Lane might possibly talk to me. But she wouldn’t.”
Violet said, “Miss Lane knew who you were. And I think she was rather pleased you were following her.”
Grandfather said, “To go back to the matter of the art exhibit. Do you think Miss Lane would like that? The children seem to think she is shy.”
“She is shy. But I think your grandchildren have helped her see that people are friendly if you only give them a chance.”
Benny said, “Miss Lane and Miss Smith know a lot of things that aren’t true have been said about them in Beachwood. Kids say an old witch with a hundred cats lives in the Tower House. One boy even broke a window just for the fun of it.”
“That’s true,” Mr. Lee said.
“Miss Lane may be shy,” Violet added, “but she knows she is a good painter.”
“She sells her pictures, all right,” said Mr. Lee. “I should think she would agree to an exhibit. But there is another reason why I think she would be delighted.”
“And what is that?” asked Mr. Alden.
“Suppose I told her that the money the exhibit earns would be used for a shelter for stray cats? That is the kind of thing she would like very much.”
“That is the best idea!” said Jessie. “I’m sure she will think it is a fine idea, too. But I didn’t know she had enough pictures for an exhibit.”
“She has,” said Mr. Lee. “There are dozens in New York. Then, James, I think if you asked, some people would loan pictures they have already bought. This could be a very interesting exhibit.”
Violet said, “I think Miss Lane would want to show the picture she painted of Ali and me.”
“And that would help everyone in Beachwood understand Miss Lane better,” Benny said.
“I think so, too,” agreed Jessie.
“Well, I guess Henry can go for the ladies now,” said Mr. Lee.
“He’s already gone,” Jessie told him.
When the blue car arrived, Miss Lane was carrying a basket. She said, “I brought a present for Violet.” Then suddenly she saw Mr. Lee. She said in a low voice, “Hello, Dan. We haven’t met for many years.”
“But now we are neighbors,” said Mr. Lee, “and I hope we’ll meet often. What is in the basket? It seems to be something alive.”
“It is,” replied Miss Lane. “You see, Violet was willing to let me paint her picture.”
Violet looked at the basket—it moved a trifle.
Miss Lane opened the basket and drew out a kitten—a perfectly white kitten with long, soft fur, blue eyes, and a look like a puffball.
“Oh, you lovely little thing!” cried Violet, her eyes shining. “May I hold him?”
Miss Lane set the kitten down on the sand. He sat there with his small tail out straight behind him. Violet took the tiny tail and curled it around him. The little cat instantly uncurled it and curled it up again, just exactly the way Violet had placed it.
“Look at that,” Benny said. “He wants to do it himself.”
Violet replied, “That’s like all cats. I ought to have remembered. I am so used to dogs now.”
Then the little puffball began to climb up the front of Violet’s blouse. His tiny claws were like needles.
Violet pulled him off, but he went right up again. He seemed to know he was Violet’s cat, just as old Watch knew he was Jessie’s dog.
“What’s his name?” asked Benny. “Or hasn’t he a name yet?”
Miss Lane answered, “Yes, his name is Sugar Cookie. He’s a registered cat. His mother is Bluebell the Third and his grandmother was White Clover the Second.”
Violet pulled a blue string across the sand. The kitten followed it like a little wild tiger, biting it and tossing it in the air. Every motion was beautiful.
Miss Lane watched the kitten so closely that everyone began to watch Miss Lane. She saw the kitten’s motions just as she would paint them.
“There is a second present, and it is for Mr. Alden,” said Miss Lane. She took the paper off Violet’s portrait. It was a lovely thing, and it looked exactly like Violet.
Mr. Alden was delighted. He kept looking from the picture to the slender girl and back again. He was wondering if Miss Lane would like the idea of an exhibit.
“Sugar Cookie, let’s eat,” said Benny. “How would you like some warm milk?”
Jessie went in to warm some milk, and Miss Lane sniffed the air. “That coffee smells good,” she said.
