Secret of the Time Capsule (4 page)

“Right,” Brian said. “The thief wanted to cause a distraction.”

Sean thought a moment. “Why did the thief take everything in the capsule, and not just the newspaper?”

“If only the newspaper was missing, the police could look up the November issue, the way we did. Then Mayor Harlow would look guilty.”

“He is guilty, isn’t he?”

“We don’t know. The thief might have been Miss Wegman. Or someone we haven’t even thought of. We don’t know what else was in that time capsule that could cause problems for someone.” Brian sighed. “This is going to be a tough case to solve.”

“Wait a minute,” Sean said. “Dad told us the case was closed.”

“That was the first case, where we were trying to find all the 1918 fourth graders,” Brian said. “This is a different case. Now we have to find a thief.”

Sean thought a minute, then nodded in agreement. “What do we do next?” he asked. “We can’t look for footprints. If the thief left footprints in the dirt around the capsule, they were wiped out by the Dickersons.”

“Let’s take a look at the site anyhow,” Brian said. He led the way, edging through the people who were still milling about. Sean followed. “If I’m right about the fresh wax, we’ll find small flecks of the old, dried wax in the dirt.”

“Bingo!” Sean said as he bent over the hole. He pointed at a few small slivers of red. “Look over there … and there.”

Brian pulled tweezers and a small plastic bag from the pocket of his jeans. He stepped into the hole and picked up a few pieces of the dried wax.

“Hey, you! Get out of there!” Hugh Dickerson yelled.

Brian looked up. The Quinns’ friend, Detective Thomas Kerry, had been talking to both Dickersons, and they looked very uncomfortable. Hugh’s face and head were an angry red.

“You ought to chase those boys away!” he growled at Detective Kerry. “They’ve been snooping around here before. I wouldn’t be surprised if they stole the stuff in the time capsule.”

“Yikes!” Sean said. “We didn’t do it!”

“But we would like to talk to you, Detective Kerry,” Brian said. Brian stepped out of the hole and held up the plastic bag. “I’d like to tell you what I think about the wax seal.”

Detective Kerry listened intently, but the Dickerson brothers glowered.

When Brian had finished his explanation the detective took the bag and said, “Thank you. We’ll check this out.”

Mr. Vlado hobbled up and peered around Detective Kerry’s shoulder.

“Are you going to check for fingerprints on the soft wax seal and on the capsule?” Sean asked the detective.

Brian answered before Detective Kerry could. “There won’t be fingerprints. If the thief had any sense at all, he would have worn gloves.”

Gene Dickerson gave a start. Hugh Dickerson glanced toward the toolshed.

“However, the red dye in the wax might leave stains on the gloves,” Brian added thoughtfully.

“I don’t know where my gloves are,” Hugh Dickerson said. “I lost them.”

“I threw my gloves away,” Gene Dickerson said. “They had a hole in them.”

Mr. Vlado chortled. “No you didn’t,” he said. “Your gloves are sticking out of your back pocket.”

He whipped them out of Gene Dickerson’s pocket and held them up. “Aha!” Mr. Vlado said. “Red stains!”

“The stains came from pulling the seal off the capsule,” Gene Dickerson insisted. He turned to Detective Kerry. “You saw me take it off. Everybody saw me.”

“Yeah!” Hugh Dickerson said. “Don’t listen to anything those nosy kids tell you!”

“I’d check the toolshed,” Brian told Detective Kerry. “Hugh Dickerson’s gloves might be in the toolshed.”

“And the contents of the time capsule,” Mr. Vlado said. “We wouldn’t want to lose those fourth-grade letters, would we?” He laughed so hard he nearly fell over.

Detective Kerry ignored the Dickerson brothers and spoke to Brian. “According to what I’ve been told, you were in this area earlier. Did you see anything else you think you should report? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Brian hesitated only a moment. “If we think of anything, we’ll let you know.”

Sean said, “We found a news—”

“A newspaper story that told all about the planners of the ceremony. We’ll read it again and see if it gives us any other ideas.”

“Brian! Sean!” Mrs. Quinn waved and called. “Hurry! We’re leaving.”

As they skirted the crowd to join their parents, Sean asked, “Bri, you didn’t let me tell Detective Kerry about the 1918 newspaper article. Why not?”

“Because Mayor Harlow and Miss Wegman might not be the guilty ones. That newspaper article could make the police think they are, and they wouldn’t investigate the Dickersons.”

“Do you think Mr. Vlado was right about the stolen stuff being hidden in the toolshed?” Sean asked.

Brian glanced back over his shoulder. “I don’t know. Hugh and Gene Dickerson were awfully nervous about being questioned. Since they were guards, they had a better chance than anyone at stealing the contents of the capsule.”

“Why would they want to steal the stuff in the capsule? There wouldn’t be anything about them in it.”

Brian lowered his voice. “The thief didn’t have to do the job himself. He could have hired somebody to steal for him.”

“Should we look in the toolshed?”

“No,” Brian said. “That would be illegal. It’s up to Detective Kerry to get a search warrant if he wants to check out the toolshed.”

“We need to make a list of suspects,” Sean said. “So far we’ve got the Dickerson brothers, Emma Wegman, and Mayor Harlow.”

“And maybe Councilman Williford,” Brian said.

“Why him?” Sean asked.

“I’m guessing that he knows what the gift to the city is. Maybe it’s something valuable. It could be something he wants for himself.”

“He’s standing right over there talking to some people. Why don’t we ask him if he knows what the gift is?”

“Good idea, and then there’s one more thing we have to do.”

“Brian, Sean, I told you to hurry,” Mrs. Quinn said as she joined them.

“Sorry, Mom,” Sean said.

“If it’s okay with you and Dad, just go on without us,” Brian said. “Sean and I have to make a trip to the library.”

Mrs. Quinn smiled. “All right,” she said. “Just be home by five. We’re going to have an early dinner.”

As soon as their parents had left, Brian and Sean ran to catch Mr. Williford, who was striding toward his car.

“Mr. Williford,” Brian called, “could we please ask you one question?”

“If it doesn’t take too long,” Mr. Williford answered. He stood tall and elegant in a dark blue suit that looked as if it cost an awful lot of money. “What is your question?”

“We read about your grandfather in
California Pix
in the library,” Sean said.

Mr. Williford’s eyes widened in surprise. “That old issue? Surely they wouldn’t have kept it in the library all these years?”

“It’s on tape,” Sean explained. “We had to read it in the microfilm machine.”

“Your grandfather gave the city a gift,” Brian said. “It was in the capsule. Do you know what the gift is? Did he ever tell you?”

“No, he didn’t.” Mr. Williford looked at his watch.

“That means the police don’t know what they’re looking for,” Sean said.

“I’m afraid that’s right. Now, please excuse me. I’m late for an appointment.”

Still frowning, Mr. Williford hurried to his car and quickly drove out of the parking lot.

Sean sighed. “It would have helped a lot if he knew.”

“I think he does,” Brian said. “He didn’t want to answer our question.”

“He had to go. He was late for an appointment.”

Brian shook his head. “He lied about having an appointment,” he said. “The ceremonies would still be going on if the contents of the time capsule hadn’t been stolen.”

“That means Mr. Williford is one of our suspects.”

“Let’s go to the library,” Brian said. “That photograph of Mr. Williford’s grandfather has been bugging me. I want to take another look at it.”

It was only a six-block walk, but as usual on a Saturday morning, the library was crowded, so Brian and Sean had to wait until one of the librarians could write down their request for the
California Pix
tape and go into the room where the tapes where kept to get it for them.

Brian glanced toward the far wall where the microfilm machines stood empty. “Good,” he said. “Nobody’s using the machines. We can thread a machine as soon as we get the tape.”

But the wait was a long one, and when the librarian returned to the counter she was empty-handed.

“According to our records, you checked out the tape last,” she said.

“We turned it in before we left,” Brian told her. “That should be in your records, too.”

“It is,” she said. “And I clearly remember putting the tape back on the shelf in its proper place.” She looked unhappy. “We have a problem,” she told them. “The tape is missing.”

B
RIAN LAID SOME SLICES
of cheese and lunch meat on a piece of bread and slapped another slice of bread on top. “Big mistake,” he said. “We told Councilman Williford where the magazine article was and even how to find it.”

Sean had his mouth open to bite into the sandwich he’d made for himself, but he stopped. “Do you think he stole the tape?”

“Who else?” Brian answered.

“Why would he do that? The article said only nice things about his grandfather.”

“I know, but there was something else in that photo story. Something that might have been a clue.”

Brian pulled out his notebook and pen and wrote, “Councilman Victor Williford.” Underneath he wrote,

(1) Does he know what his grandfather’s missing “gift to the city” was? (2) He didn’t want capsule to be opened. Why? (3) Did he take the tape of
California Pix
from the library? If he did, then why?

“Lots of questions, no answers,” Sean said, He finished his sandwich and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “What are you going to write about Mayor Harry Harlow?”

“That he was eager to open the capsule right away. He wanted to be in charge of it and keep it in his office until the date of the ceremonies.”

“Don’t forget to write what was in the newspaper article.”

“I won’t. That’s important,” Brian said. He jotted down his notes about the mayor and went on to include suspect number three: Emma Wegman.

“She had just as much reason as the mayor to not want people to see that copy of the 1918 newspaper,” Brian said.

“She was awfully nervous during the ceremony,” Sean said. “Do you think it was because she knew the capsule had been opened?”

“I don’t know,” Brian said. “The mayor was nervous, too.”

Sean giggled. “So were Hugh and Gene Dickerson, after their talk with Detective Kerry.”

He watched Brian write, then asked, “Do you think the police searched the toolshed?”

“I hope so,” Brian said.

“How long would it take to get a search warrant?”

Brian shrugged. “First, Detective Kerry would have to find a judge on duty. Then, he’d have to give him a good reason why he needed to have the toolshed searched.”

“That could take hours,” Sean said. “The Dickersons would have had time to get rid of their gloves and hide the stuff they took from the capsule.”

Brian thought a moment. “We haven’t talked about hiding the stuff. Let’s see … Mr. Williford could have hid it in the trunk of his car.”

“So could the mayor, in
his
car.”

“And Miss Wegman had that huge handbag. It could hold a lot.”

“Everything that was in the time capsule?”

“Probably.”

“All our suspects have motives,” Sean said.

“And opportunity,” Brian said. “I think it’s time to have a talk with some of them. We know where Miss Wegman lives. Let’s visit her first.”

Sean looked around the kitchen. “We’d better clean up first, or Mom might have something to say about it.”

It took just a few minutes for Brian and Sean to clean the kitchen and ride their bikes to Miss Wegman’s house.

“Good,” Sean said, as they rang the doorbell. “Debbie Jean’s not hanging around. I didn’t want to run into her.”

But the moment Miss Wegman opened the door, Debbie Jean stepped up beside her. “Sean Quinn!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

Sean groaned, but Brian introduced himself and Sean to Miss Wegman. “We’d like to ask you some questions,” he said.

“Sean and Brian are detectives,” Debbie Jean told Miss Wegman. “They sometimes call on me to help them with their hardest cases.”

Brian corrected her. “We’re private investigators. May we please come in? Our questions won’t take long.”

“Of course you may come in,” Miss Wegman said, but as soon as they had all been seated in the living room she suddenly looked at them with suspicion. “Aren’t you the boys who accused Hugh Dickerson of not doing his job?”

“Not exactly,” Sean said.

But Brian looked stern. “He was away from his post,” he said. “You saw what happened when the capsule was opened.” He took out his notebook and pen.

Miss Wegman sighed. “What a terrible morning. I was nervous to begin with, because I hate crowds. And the bag of items to place inside the new capsule was heavy. And I hated having everyone read again that newspaper story about my stupid, thieving cousin.”