“I can’t believe it!” said Mrs. Spencer, shaking her head in wonder, “Thanks to the Aldens, I can finally hang Milly’s portrait on my wall.”
After leaving the gallery, Edmund had invited everyone to join him at Cooke’s Drugstore for a quick bite to eat. Now Mrs. Spencer, Rachel, Janice, Edmund, Grandfather, and the children were sitting together at the long counter, feasting on huge bowls of Mrs. Turner’s chili.
“Uncovering that portrait was a surprise to everyone,” Jessie admitted. Then she gave her sister an affectionate nudge. “Everyone except Violet, that is.”
“It was just a hunch,” Violet said modestly as Mrs. Turner filled her water glass. “I was fairly sure there was another painting under that landscape. And I remembered that Milly might have painted over her self-portrait. At least that’s what Mrs. Spencer thought.”
“That was great thinking,” Henry praised his sister.
Swallowing a bite of his roll, Benny said, “But now you don’t have a painting for your room, Violet.”
“The important thing,” said Violet, smiling over at her little brother, “is that now Mrs. Spencer has Milly’s portrait to hang on her wall.”
“What wonderful grandchildren you have, James!” Mrs. Spencer remarked.
Grandfather smiled proudly. “You won’t get any argument from me!”
“I’ll have that portrait framed for you right away, Mrs. Spencer,” Edmund promised. He reached out and patted the elderly woman’s hand. “It’s the least I can do after all that’s happened. And, of course, you’ll get your money back for that landscape, James.” Edmund sighed. “I can’t help but feel partly responsible for what Jem and Margaret tried to do. After all, it was my gallery that sponsored the contest.”
“Nobody blames you, Edmund,” Grandfather assured him. “Everyone in town knows you’re an honest man.”
Edmund held out his cup as Mrs. Turner poured the coffee. “Jem’s plan was almost foolproof,” he remarked. “Of course, he didn’t count on the Aldens coming along and figuring everything out.”
“They’re first-class detectives, that’s for sure!” said Grandfather.
“We like solving mysteries,” said Benny. The other Aldens agreed.
But they knew the mystery was still not fully explained. They still weren’t sure who the Tattletale was.
Henry spoke up. “There’s something I don’t understand. You entered the art contest, right, Janice?” When she nodded in reply, he questioned, “Then why did you tell us you couldn’t draw?”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” Janice smiled a little. “I guess I was feeling a bit discouraged at the time. You see, I had my hopes pinned on winning that contest. When it didn’t happen, I began to wonder if I was just kidding myself about making it as an artist.”
“Your paintings show real talent, Janice,” Edmund assured her. “There’s no reason to doubt yourself.”
Benny had a question for Janice, too. “How did you know Watch’s name?”
Janice looked puzzled.
“In the Town Square,” Benny explained, “you called Watch by his name. But you’d never met him before.”
Janice laughed. “You’re the clue to that one, Benny. You got a book from the library about dogs a while ago. Remember? When you were checking it out, you told me all about Watch.”
Benny grinned sheepishly. “I forgot about that.”
Henry and Jessie looked at each other. If Janice wasn’t the Tattletale, who was? Could Benny have been right all along? Was the ghost of Milly Manchester behind everything?
“Something baffles me, too,” put in Mrs. Spencer. “How did you ever get hold of that snapshot of mine, Janice?”
Benny thought he knew the answer. “Rachel probably gave it to her.”
“Right,” said Rachel, looking surprised that Benny knew that. “Milly’s portrait meant so much to you, Mother, I decided to do something about it. When I heard Janice was in the art program at the college, I asked her if she’d paint another portrait for you.”
“But I had no idea what Milly looked like,” put in Janice. “I’d never even met her.”
Rachel nodded. “She needed a snapshot. So I took one from your album when you weren’t looking, Mother. I wanted the portrait to be a surprise.”
“But now you have the original portrait, Mrs. Spencer,” Janice pointed out. “Nothing can be better than that.”
“I’m sorry for being so unfriendly the other day,” Rachel said, smiling over at the children. She was a changed person now that the mystery was solved. “I was upset about the strange things that were happening to my mother. I’m afraid I thought it was just a game to you.”
“It was never just a game to us,” said Jessie, shaking her head firmly. “We wanted to help.”
Still smiling, Rachel said, “I know that now. Because of you, my mother can hang Milly’s portrait on her wall.”
“And don’t forget,” added Janice, “the library has a beautiful new art collection. Now everyone in Greenfield can enjoy Milly’s paintings.”
Grandfather nodded. “Jem’s loss is the town’s gain.”
“That man sees nothing but dollar signs!” Mrs. Turner suddenly blurted out as she refilled the saltshaker. “I’m not surprised he planned to keep all the money for himself. Can you imagine? Not a penny to go into Margaret’s pockets.”
When he heard this, Henry was suddenly alert. “How did you know that, Mrs. Turner?” he asked suspiciously. The other Alden children were wondering the same thing.
The question seemed to catch the waitress off guard. “What ... ?”
Henry said, “How did you know they weren’t planning to split the money?”
The saltshaker suddenly slipped from Mrs. Turner’s hand, spilling salt onto the counter.
“Oh, dear, now what have I done?” The waitress looked flustered. “I’ll just go get a cloth. I’ll have this wiped up in a jiffy.” She turned and quickly walked away.
“That was a bit strange, don’t you think?” Henry looked at Jessie, then over at Violet and Benny.
Jessie nodded. “I’ll say.”
“Something just doesn’t seem right,” Henry told them, keeping his voice low. He took another spoonful of chili and chewed thoughtfully. It was almost as if Mrs. Turner knew, somehow, about Jem and Margaret’s plans. Was she hiding something?
Henry suddenly had a thought that hadn’t occurred to him before. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the gold hair clip, the one he had found in Mrs. Spencer’s garden. On a hunch that it just might come in handy, he had thought to bring it along.
“Is this yours, Mrs. Turner?” he asked, holding it up when Mrs. Turner returned.
The waitress smiled broadly. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that!” Taking the hair clip, she slipped it into her apron pocket. “Thank you, Henry. Where in the world did you find it?”
“In Mrs. Spencer’s backyard,” Henry answered, watching her closely.
A funny look came over Mrs. Turner’s face. “Oh ... that’s quite impossible. Why, I’ve never been anywhere near —”
Henry cut in, “Maybe you lost it when you were planting that snapdragon in Mrs. Spencer’s pansy bed.”
Without saying a word, Mrs. Turner busied herself wiping away the spilled salt. It was as if she hadn’t even heard Henry’s remark. A moment later, though, her cheeks turned bright pink as she became aware of everyone watching her.
“It all adds up,” Henry went on. “You were at our house the day the paper airplane flew into our yard.”
“And you were at the art show, too,” Benny realized.
Jessie was thinking hard. “You even made a comment about Jem. You said he was acting as if there were something in it for him. You were trying to give us a hint, weren’t you, Mrs. Turner?”
The waitress still said nothing.
“You gave us another hint, too,” recalled Violet, “when you pointed to the pigeon on Josiah Wade’s head. You were trying to draw our attention to the minuteman statue, weren’t you?”
After a long silence, Mrs. Turner finally spoke. “I knew you kids were real pros, but I wasn’t counting on this,” she said with a sigh. “I had no idea you’d figure out I was the Tattletale.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Spencer cried out in surprise, putting her hands to her mouth. And the others looked just as astonished.
Mrs. Turner began speaking quietly. “Milly used to stop by the drugstore for a cup of coffee. We’d always have such nice chats. She knew everything there was to know about the history of art. She especially loved talking about Leonardo da Vinci. It was fascinating just to listen to her.” Mrs. Turner stopped to tighten the lid on the saltshaker. “Milly told me how a snapdragon in a pansy bed made her realize that anything’s possible in life. She even drew a sketch of a snapdragon for me. I kept it just to remind me of what Milly had said — that anything’s possible.”
“But then you wrote a message on the back of the sketch,” guessed Violet, “and you folded it into a paper airplane. Right?”
“Right.” Mrs. Turner nodded. “I was planning to leave the message somewhere in the house that day. But you kids were flying paper airplanes in the backyard. On a whim, I sent the message to you like that.” The waitress looked over at Mrs. Spencer. “I’m afraid it’s true. I planted the snapdragon in your garden when you were out one day. I sent the coded message in the mail. And I tucked that bookmark inside your book one afternoon in the park.” She sighed deeply. “The bookmark was one Milly made for me on my birthday.”
“Then you wanted it to look like Milly was doing all these things?” Mrs. Spencer asked, disbelieving.
Nodding, Mrs. Turner lowered her eyes. “I didn’t want anyone to suspect I was the Tattletale. And yet ... I had to let somebody know about Jem and Margaret. So what else could I do?” She didn’t look as if she expected an answer.
“How did you know what they were up to?” asked Rachel.
“They were in here planning the whole thing over lunch. I heard every word. But I really didn’t think they’d go through with it. Later, I found out Margaret had won the art contest and I knew they’d carried out their plan.”
After a moment’s stunned silence, Edmund said, “Why didn’t you just tell someone about it? Why all the elaborate clues?”
“When you’re a waitress, you overhear things,” Mrs. Turner confided. “You really can’t help it, you know. I think my customers forget I have ears.” She paused for a moment. “When I first started working here, I didn’t know how to hold my tongue. I’m afraid I had a reputation for being a gossip.”
The children looked surprised to hear this.
Mrs. Turner went on, “It wasn’t long before my customers were calling me Turner the Tattletale. Oh, it took me years to live that down! After that, I promised myself that never again would I repeat something I overheard.”
The Aldens nodded as they began to understand. Nobody liked being called names.
Benny looked puzzled. “But, Mrs. Turner, why did you use that name when you signed the messages? If you didn’t like being called a tattletale, I mean.”
“I was telling secrets about people again, Benny.” A sad smile crossed Mrs. Turner’s face. “The name just seemed to fit.”
“But you couldn’t just stand by and let Milly’s paintings be sold,” insisted Janice.
“Sometimes being a tattletale isn’t such a bad thing,” Violet added softly. “Not if you know somebody’s doing something wrong.”
Mrs. Turner nodded, but she looked troubled. “Still ... I hope you won’t mention my role in all of this,” she said. “You see, I don’t want to hear that name Turner the Tattletale again. Not ever!”
“You did everyone a great service, Mrs. Turner,” Grandfather said, speaking for them all. “Your secret’s safe with us.”
Mrs. Turner looked relieved.
“And I’ll return that bookmark,” Mrs. Spencer told her. “After all, it was a gift from Milly.”
Edmund took a napkin from the dispenser. “I wish I’d known Milly Manchester,” he said. “She must’ve been a remarkable person to make such an impression on so many people.”
Mrs. Spencer nodded. “She was one of a kind.”
“Milly followed her dream, and she never let anything stand in her way” Rachel commented thoughtfully Then suddenly she turned to her mother. Taking a deep breath, she said, “If that offer’s still open, I just might take you up on it and move back home for a while.”
“Oh, you’ll make a wonderful nurse, Rachel!” Mrs. Spencer looked close to tears. She reached out and gave her daughter’s hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s never too late to follow your dreams.”
For a moment, nobody said a word. Then Edmund spoke up. “I think this calls for a celebration. How about dessert all around?” he suggested. “Any takers?”
“It just so happens I make a great chocolate sundae,” put in Mrs. Turner.
Benny grinned. “With extra sprinkles?”
“You’d better believe it!” answered Mrs. Turner.
“I bet that’s why Mona Lisa was smiling,” said Benny. “I bet she was thinking about a chocolate sundae with —”
“Extra sprinkles!” everyone finished in unison. |