The Case of the Missing Deed (8 page)

He fetched the other two recipes and spread them all out on the kitchen table.

The keystone is the key
.

Are you feeling artistic this morning?

A strong beacon in an emergency
.

What was Grandpa getting at? Keystone … key … artistic … beacon … emergency … Nothing fit together. Nothing made sense. Yet he was sure that this was some kind of message from Grandpa.

“What are you doing, Seb?” Alex said.

“Trying to figure out what Grandpa’s saying with these little notes.”

“That again?” Geneviève rolled her eyes.

“It could mean something!” Sébastien said heatedly. “Grandpa always left messages in strange places.”

“Yeah, but he was probably just having fun. Leaving little love notes for Grandma.”

Sébastien shook his head. “There’s more to it. They’re connected in some way. I just don’t know how.”

“The great sleuth,” Geneviève said. “You win that big science prize at school and you think you’re Sherlock Holmes or something.”

“I do not!”

“What science prize?” Olivia asked. “You didn’t tell us, Seb.”

“It was nothing,” he said, blushing. “Never mind.”

There was a moan from across the table. Claire’s hand was over her mouth. “I don’t feel good.”

The others looked at the fudge tray. There were only a few crumbs left. “Claire! Did you eat all of that?” Alex asked in disbelief.

Claire nodded, turning pale. “I need a bathroom.” She ran from the room.

“And it’s an emergency,” Geneviève couldn’t resist adding.

Several minutes later, Claire came back in. “Remind me never to eat
Emergency Fudge
again.”

“Like that’ll work,” Sébastien said.

Even Claire managed a smile. Soon after, everyone went up to bed. But Sébastien sat with the three recipes, trying to figure out what the messages could mean. His mind skittered around uselessly.

Then he had a thought.

He raced upstairs and tapped lightly on Grandma’s door. If she was asleep, he wouldn’t bother her.

“Yes?” she called.

Sébastien peeked in. “Can I ask you something, Grandma?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

He showed her the three recipes. “We found these notes from Grandpa. Do you have any idea what he means?”

Grandma stared. She reached out and touched Grandpa’s handwriting. Then she burst into tears. “Oh, Sam … Sam …”

“Grandma, I’m sorry,” Sébastien said, alarmed. “Please don’t cry–”

Eve ran into the room. “Mom! Are you okay?” Grandma just sobbed.

Eve turned to Sébastien. “What did you do?”

Sébastien felt his face grow warm. “I didn’t mean … I just showed her …”

There was the patter of footsteps on the stairs, and Geneviève raced in. “What’s the matter, Grandma–”

She caught sight of the recipes in her brother’s hand. “Sébastien! Of all the–”

“I’m really sorry, Grandma,” Sébastien said, feeling wretched. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Grandma moaned helplessly.

“It’s okay, Mom, it’s okay …” Eve crooned, patting her mother on the back. Over her shoulder, she said, “Go.”

Pushing past Geneviève, Sébastien went downstairs. He put the recipes away. By the time he climbed heavily back upstairs, Grandma’s room was quiet.

ow what?” Claire said the next morning.

“Well, if Sébastien hadn’t gone and made things worse–” Geneviève began.

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Gen, that doesn’t help,” Alex said, shooting Seb a sympathetic look.

“The only thing I can think of,” Olivia said, “is, remember when Muriel said she had something for us from Grandpa? And that it could help Grandma? Maybe we should go get it.”

“Good idea, Liv,” Alex said, brightening. “Maybe it’ll give us a clue about the deed.”

They all hopped on their bikes and headed toward town. Riding down the road, Claire noticed short wooden posts sticking up out of the ground, with little red ribbons tied around their tops. She slowed to a stop. “What are those?”

The others coasted to a stop beside her. “Survey stakes,” Sébastien said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that Tantalus is planning where they’re putting the road to the mine.”

They gazed at the line of stakes stretching into the distance, imagining huge trucks and machines roaring down this quiet country road. They rode on in silence.

When they arrived at the general store, Muriel greeted
them with a laugh. “This is getting to be a habit. What are you kids cooking today?”

“Actually, nothing, Muriel,” Alex said. “Remember you said you had something for us from Grandpa? We thought we’d pick it up.”

“Right!” Muriel said. “I keep forgetting to drop it off. Let’s go.” She hung a
BACK SOON
sign in the window, and they set off down the road. Her house was only a short distance away, beside a large berry patch overlooking the south shore.

Muriel led them into the kitchen, which smelled deliciously of berries. A few dozen jars of preserves stood on racks on the counter: pink raspberry, purple blackberry, red strawberry.

“Here, take this for your grandma,” Muriel said, handing Geneviève a jar of raspberry jam. “Maybe it’ll bring back her appetite.”

Olivia was standing there, gazing at the jars. “Muriel,” she said in a hushed voice, “could I come over and paint those sometime?”

Muriel followed her gaze. “Sure, anytime.” She patted Olivia’s arm. “Now then, where did I put that thing?”

She rummaged around in a few cupboards before feeling on top of the cabinet where she kept her knitting yarn. “Aha!” she shouted and reached down a long, very thin package wrapped in brown paper. “Who wants to do the honors?”

When no one answered, Geneviève said, “I will.” She tore open the paper and held out – a knitting needle. One knitting needle. She shook out the paper, looking for the other needle, but there was none.

“One knitting needle?” Sébastien said. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Geneviève said.

Alex looked at Muriel, puzzled. “And Grandpa said this could help Grandma?”

“ ‘This can help Lily if need be,’ ” Muriel said. “Those were his exact words.”

“Do you have any idea what he meant, Muriel?” Sébastien asked.

Muriel shook her head. “I’m as stumped as you are.”

“Look at this,” Olivia said. She was pointing to the thick end of the knitting needle. Wrapped tightly around it was a length of clear thread, and dangling from the thread was a small tag with the number 6 on it.

The others drew closer. “That’s fishing line,” Claire said.

“Right, Alex?”

“Right.”

“One knitting needle, fishing line, number 6,” Sébastien said. “What on earth could Grandpa have meant?”

“I wish I could help you, but I have no idea,” Muriel said, “and I’d better be getting back to the store.”

The cousins walked back to where they’d left their bikes. “I hate to say it,” Geneviève began, climbing onto her seat, “but is it possible that, at the end, Grandpa was … well, a little soft in the head?”

“No!” Sébastien shouted.

The others looked at him in surprise.

“He wasn’t,” Sébastien insisted. “He was doing puzzles. He was reading. He was as sharp as ever. Right?” He appealed to the others.

“I don’t remember,” Claire said sadly.

“Seb’s right,” Olivia said. “He wasn’t loopy.”

Sébastien shot her a grateful look.

“Well, I wish he’d given us a clue,” Geneviève said. She put the jam and the knitting needle, rewrapped in the paper, in her basket. They rode silently home.

Eve had no idea what the knitting needle was for, and, after the upset of the night before, everyone was afraid to ask Grandma if she did. Geneviève rolled it up in the brown paper and put it in the pantry, along with Grandma’s recipes.

After everyone went off in different directions, Sébastien sat and thought about the knitting needle. Somehow he knew it was connected to the deed, though he couldn’t imagine how. Grandpa wouldn’t have done something so odd without a good reason. And he knew that Grandpa hadn’t been crazy. Sick, yes. In pain, yes. But his mind had been clear right up until the end.

Sébastien listed everything he knew about the knitting needle. Grandpa had left it with Muriel. There had to be a reason for that. He’d attached a number to it. There had to be a reason for that too. But what?

That line of thought was getting him nowhere.

Okay, he said to himself. Grandpa wrote notes on certain recipes. There was something about the recipes. Could there be a connection between the knitting needle and the recipes?

Once again, Sébastien dug out the three recipes they’d tried so far. But none of them had anything to do with a knitting needle, or knitting, or yarn. Or anything!

He flopped down with a sigh.

Maybe it was a different recipe, he thought. Maybe the knitting needle had something to do with another recipe. A recipe of Muriel’s. His mouth watered thinking of
Muriel’s
Berry Pandowdy
. His favorite dessert. It was so good, with the warm berries and the biscuity topping. Mmm …

He pulled himself back. Grandma must have dozens of Muriel’s recipes in her collection. Finding the right one – if there
was
a right one – was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.
Needle! Groan!

He hauled out the notebooks and boxes and envelopes.

Muriel’s Blueberry Muffins
. No message from Grandpa.

Muriel’s Blackberry Pie
. No message.

Muriel’s Raspberry Tarts
. That one had a note in Grandma’s writing that said, “Reduce fat. Don’t over bake!” Nothing from Grandpa.

Muriel’s Triple Berry Jelly
.

Muriel’s Strawberry-Rhubarb Crumble
. That one had a bunch of jottings in Grandma’s handwriting. For the amount of sugar, she’d crossed out “¼ cup” and scribbled “⅓ cup,” and she’d written “Add pinch of nutmeg.”

Muriel’s Raspberry Scones
.

Cripes, how many recipes were there?

Muriel’s Berry Compote
.

Muriel’s Blackberry Crisp
.

Why did Muriel have to be such a good cook?

He was down to the last notebook. He flipped through the pages. And there it was – right in his favorite!

Muriel’s Berry Pandowdy

Don’t needle me. Get to the point!

Ingredients:

2 1/2 cups blueberries

2 1/2 cups blackberries

1/2 of a lemon

1/3 cup + 2 tablespoons sugar

1 1/2 cups + 2 tablespoons flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 cup + 3 tablespoons cold butter, cut into cubes, plus extra for the dish

10 tablespoons whipping cream + 1 tablespoon for top

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 375°.

2. Butter a medium-sized glass or ceramic casserole dish.

3. Squeeze the juice from the half lemon. Toss berries with the lemon juice, 1/3 cup of sugar, and 2 tablespoons of flour. Spread in bottom of baking dish.

4. In a separate bowl, mix the 1 1/2 cups of flour with the baking powder, remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar, and salt. Add the cold, cubed butter and mix, rubbing between your fingers until the butter is mostly incorporated into the flour and the largest pieces of butter are the size of peas.

5. Add the whipping cream and mix with a wooden spoon just until the dough comes together.

6. Drop pieces of dough onto berries and brush each piece of dough with the extra cream. Bake until the biscuit topping is golden and dry to the touch, and the berries are starting to bubble up, approximately 40 minutes.

7. Cool at least 30 minutes before serving – berry juices will be very hot! Serve with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

Sébastien jumped up with a whoop.
Don’t needle me!
There was a link! And he’d found it! And Grandpa wasn’t crazy. And neither was he.

He sat down abruptly. There was a link between the message on the recipe and the knitting needle. So could there be a connection between the other messages and some other objects? Was that what Grandpa was trying to show them?