Midnight Mystery (8 page)

The clock now matched the others in the house. Brad picked up his tool bag and left. “The riddle!” Henry whispered. “Now I remember it.

“When the moon’s at twelve o’clock,

Pounce upon the stroke,

The time to act is at the chime,

When day and night run out of time.
”

“That’s it!” Jessie said. “When the clock strikes twelve, the secret panel can be opened. Alice Putter made the clock with a built-in hiding place, then wrote a riddle explaining how to open it!”

“But what was Brad putting — or taking from — inside?” Benny wondered.

Jessie looked at her watch. “In eight more minutes, we can find out,” she said. “I bet we can open that panel at noon, too.”

Before the children could move, the front door opened again. Martha entered with the dust mop and a carrier full of cleaning supplies. She dusted areas that had already been dusted and mopped parts of the floor that had already been mopped. The whole time, she mumbled some words the Aldens couldn’t hear. Every few seconds, she looked up at the clock.

When real noon arrived, the children nearly jumped at the sound of it. The whole house filled with birdsongs, cuckoos, chimes, and gongs.

Despite the happy racket, the Aldens focused on Martha. They saw her open the glass part of the clock. She ran her fingertips around the edges.

“Maybe she’s trying to figure out how to open it,” Jessie said. She didn’t even have to whisper, since the clocks were so noisy. “Whatever the trick is, she doesn’t know it.”

Martha then tried to move the grandfather clock from the wall. It was much too heavy to budge.

At one minute past twelve, silence filled the house again. Martha picked up the carrier of supplies so roughly the feather duster fell out. She pushed open the front door, letting it slam as she marched down the steps. The feather duster lay in front of the clock like a bird that had fallen from its nest.

The Aldens were alone in the house. Noon had passed. They were a little closer to figuring out the secret of the grandfather clock. Something had been in there. Maybe it was in there now. Standing silently, the children looked at the smiling moon face.

“I wouldn’t dare move the hands back the way Brad did,” Henry said.

Violet nodded in agreement. “Mr. Percy said all of Alice Putter’s clocks are very delicate.”

“We’ll have to find another way to figure out what Brad Smithy is keeping in there,” Jessie said. She picked up the feather duster from the floor. “Or taking out.”

Early that evening, during their light supper of tomato soup and crackers, the children heard footsteps in the entryway. Two figures appeared in the doorway. Grandfather and Isabel Putter had returned.

One by one the children hurled themselves into Grandfather’s arms.

“You’re back!” Jessie cried. “We’ve been so busy, the time flew by. But we still missed you.”

Isabel stepped into the sparkling kitchen. “I noticed what a beautiful job you did setting up the displays in the library and living room — and under the canopy tents as well. I couldn’t have done a better job myself.”

After all the hugs were over, Benny took a piece of chocolate fudge from the box Grandfather had brought for everyone. “Yum. This is almost as good as the fudge we make with Mrs. McGregor. Now I’m full.” He set down his empty milk glass.

“Our car is full, too,” Grandfather told the children. “We collected several Alice Putter clocks and sculptures from the people who are lending them to Isabel to display during the convention. Wait until you see how beautiful they are.

Benny couldn’t sit still any longer. “Know what we found?” he asked, jumping from his seat.

“Grandma Alice’s plan book?” Ms. Putter asked in a hopeful voice.

“Almost,” Benny said. “I found an old book with drawings and riddles for somebody’s grandchildren. Only we’re the grandchildren who read them!”

Isabel looked happy and surprised. “Oh, wonderful! Grandma Alice and Martha’s grandfather wrote and illustrated many little books for us. They both liked silly rhymes, and both were wonderful artists. Sometimes they would hide something and make up a riddle to help us find it. Only the riddles could be very difficult, even for grown-ups. Where’s the book?”

The children glanced at one another. It didn’t seem like the right time to tell Isabel what they’d seen and overheard at the Red Rooster diner.

“Martha took it for safekeeping,” Jessie said.

Isabel sighed. “Well, I can’t look at it right now, anyway, we’ve got so much unpacking to do. Come see the treasures your grandfather and I brought back to put on display.” She led the way to the car.

“Whoa!” Henry said when Grandfather opened the trunk and car doors. “This looks like a moving van from a museum.”

“Oh,” Violet breathed when Grandfather opened a crate and pulled out a wooden clock packed in straw. “That is the prettiest clock of all!” she said.

The children came over to admire the piece. In place of numbers were carved vegetables. A woodchuck pushed the minute hand and a rabbit chased the hour hand.

Isabel carefully wound the clock. When the large hand struck the hour, bells rang. “I was quite surprised when I saw it. Unlike Grandma Alice’s other work, I’ve never seen any photographs or drawings of it. It’s very old-fashioned, the way clocks used to be long ago. No batteries, just lovely ticking and tocking.”

At the sound of the bells and Isabel’s voice, Ruff and Tumble began to howl.

Benny ran over and released them. They came running to Isabel, overjoyed that she was back.

Hearing all the yipping and commotion, Martha came out of the garage. “Those dogs are supposed to be locked up. Oh, Isabel. You’re back.”

Isabel stood up from petting the dogs. “Yes, James and I came back with a treasure trove of Grandma Alice’s work. We’re about to unpack the crates and put the pieces on display in the entryway of the house, separate from the inventions.”

Martha peeked into the crates. “How do you know for sure that your grandmother designed all these pieces? They’re painted in more than one style.”

Isabel sighed. “We’ve had a long day, Martha. There really isn’t any time to discuss this right now. I see you have the registration binder. How many inventions are registered now?”

“Forty-five,” Martha said. “Forty-six if you count Brad Smithy’s. He’s still working on his, so I don’t have the paperwork yet.”

Isabel pushed back a strand of hair that had gotten loose from her bun. “Oh, my. Last year, he had the paperwork but not the invention. Now he doesn’t have either. Well, he sure seems determined.”

Jessie and Henry exchanged a meaningful glance.

“Yes,” murmured Henry, “but determined to
what?
”

On the day of the invention convention, Benny woke up first. He couldn’t help it. A skinny slice of sunlight had squeezed under the window shade. That was all he needed to get out of bed. “Today’s the day,” he whispered to Ruff and Tumble. They instantly sat up on their dog bed. “Too bad you two can’t go to the convention,” Benny whispered. “I’ll give you extra dog biscuits today.”

The dogs crooned. They didn’t know about invention conventions, but they were experts in dog biscuits.

Benny padded over to the window. He yanked on the shade, which flapped up noisily. Sunlight poured into the room.

Henry covered his eyes. “Aw, Benny, it’s not even six yet,” he said after checking his watch. Tumble walked over and licked Henry’s foot, which was dangling from his sleeping bag. “All right, all right. I get the message. You guys are like alarm clocks. Oh, no! Alarm clocks,” Henry cried. “I forgot to wind the clocks in here last night so we’d wake up at midnight to try the grandfather clock. We slept through our chance.”

Violet and Jessie sat up in bed, too. Ruff and Tumble ran over to Violet for their morning head-scratching.

Jessie looked over at Henry. “I forgot, too.” She went over to the window. “We can always do it at noon. At least it’s a bright sunny day for the convention.”

Henry groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m submitting the rainy-day backpack on the sunniest day of the year!”

“I’m glad we finished our chores yesterday,” Jessie said as she went from clock to clock and wound them up again. “Now we can go searching for Alice Putter’s plan book before the convention opens.”

“And figure out what Brad is up to,” added Benny. “Hey maybe he’s keeping his invention in the clock.”

The Aldens never dawdled when something important was about to happen. They dressed, rolled up their sleeping bags, walked the dogs, prepared breakfast, and ate it, all before the clocks chimed seven.

After washing and drying the breakfast dishes, they went over to the canopy tent for a last-minute look at the displays. There was Benny’s flashlight hat along with a photograph of him wearing it. Violet wound up her jewelry arm. It played a tune as it turned, displaying the sparkling bracelets and rings Mrs. McGregor and Isabel had lent her. Jessie’s recycling wagon was neatly organized and ready to roll.

“At least it was raining in the photo you took of me wearing my rainy-day backpack,” Henry said to Violet. “Hey, it looks as if Martha put out a few more inventions that arrived yesterday afternoon. No sign of Brad’s, though.”

Benny tried on his cap one last time. He switched the flashlight on and off to make sure the new batteries were working. He put it back on the display table with the other children’s inventions. He was ready!

The Aldens combed the house from top to bottom for two hours looking for the plan book.

“Whew!” Henry said. “It’s got to be what’s in the clock. But what would Brad be doing with the plan book? Martha’s the one who acts so weird about it.”

“If it is in there, then we need to keep a watch out for Brad and Martha when it gets close to noon,” Jessie said. “Right now, we have to get outside. People are starting to arrive.”

By eleven-thirty, Isabel’s driveway was packed with cars. Henry kept busy directing drivers to the parking area. He directed the driver of a shiny black car to a special reserved parking space. “Know who’s in that car?” Henry asked when Benny, Jessie, and Violet came over. “It’s Mr. Marshall, the invention lawyer we tried to see yesterday. He showed me his judge’s badge. If we hurry, maybe we can catch him before Martha does.”

Benny raced back to get his hat and put it on. “Do you think it’s okay to ask him about it?”

But Martha had found Mr. Marshall first. The Aldens watched him hand her back the big envelope she had given him at the diner.

“He’s shaking his head,” Jessie noted. “Martha looks disappointed. The riddle book must not have proved what she thought it would.”

Isabel and Grandfather walked over to the children. “Before the judging, I’d like to go over some final instructions with all of you and with Martha. Oh, she’s talking with Robert Marshall,” Isabel said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to him. He knows all about inventions. In fact, he’s one of our judges.”

The Aldens followed Isabel over to Martha and Mr. Marshall.

Mr. Marshall shook all of their hands as Isabel made introductions. “Alden? Alden? Where have I heard that name?” he asked. “Oh, yes, from my assistant, Mrs. Page. Would you be the children who came to my office yesterday with an invention?”

Benny nodded. “I’m one of those kids, and this is the hat I invented.”

Mr. Marshall smiled. “Mrs. Page said you almost blinded her.”

Is that good or bad?
Benny wondered. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Mr. Marshall clapped Benny on the back. “No need to be sorry. Your flashlight baseball hat looks mighty useful to me. What good would it be without a bright light on it?”

Benny was beaming — and not just from his flashlight.

Martha was the only person who
wasn’t
beaming. “Isabel, now that you’re here, we need to get something settled before the convention starts. I showed Mr. Marshall these.” She opened the large envelope and slipped out two plan books, numbers eight and ten, along with the riddle book the children had found, and a yellow notebook. “This explains everything.”

Isabel pulled her glasses from her pocket. “What are you doing with those plan books? They belong in the library room cabinet. And what does Grandma Alice’s riddle book have to do with anything?”

Martha looked angry. “This riddle book was not made by Alice Putter!” She looked at Mr. Marshall. “Robert, tell her.”

Mr. Marshall shifted from one foot to the other. He didn’t look happy to be there. He took the riddle book from Martha and turned to Isabel. “Have you read the inscription?”

Isabel took a closer look. “I suppose I did when I was a child. I haven’t seen this book since then. It says:
To My Grandchildren.
Grandma Alice often wrote that in books she made and books she bought for her grandchildren. I’m confused, Robert.”

“You won’t be for long,” Martha said.

Mr. Marshall looked as if he wanted to escape. “If you look closely, that’s not your grandmother’s handwriting, Isabel. One of my partners and I went through Alice’s files in our office, along with these two plan books and a yellow notebook Martha gave me that belongs to her family. The riddle book doesn’t match Alice’s drawings or handwriting. What it does match is the writing and artwork in the yellow notebook. That notebook belonged to Martha’s grandfather, Otis Carver. Martha told me he once lived in Alice’s house. That might explain the mix-up.”