rules. She herself rather liked that, but she suspected that Mrs. Riley wouldn’t.
Ms. Delores was just driving off when Miss Gertie came trotting up. She was waving her arms in excitement. “I’m so glad to see you! I spotted you getting out of the car. I just remembered what else it was I’d seen that night.”
11
ZOE HAS A PLAN
“An animal, I thought at first,” said Miss Gertie. “But then I thought, well, goodness, how could an animal carry a light? So my next thought was…” She hesitated a moment as though she might have forgotten what her next thought was. Zoe held her breath. “A child,” Gertie said finally, “yes, I thought, it’s a child. It was so low to the ground, you see. But what would a child be doing out so late at night? Unless it’s one of those poor homeless ones. A child looking for a train to play with!” she finished triumphantly.
“But if it’s homeless,” said Zoe, “how would it get a track to run the train on? And why the baggage car? Why not that jazzy red-white-and-blue engine?”
“Yeah,” Spence chimed in. “Why take my baggage car right out of the middle of the train?”
Miss Gertie looked blank. “I can’t imagine, dear. Really I can’t. I can only tell you what I thought I saw. It was after midnight, you know. Though I was wearing my glasses. I always put them on when I get up. I’m terribly nearsighted, have been ever since fourth grade. It was one day, you see, when I couldn’t see the blackboard and—”
“Gertie?” Mrs. Riley came running out with an empty soup pot to return to the sisters. “Come on in. I’m rehearsing Beethoven’s Ninth for a recital. Can I try it out on you?”
“Oh, mercy,” said Miss Gertie, “Mercy, I…”
“Miss Gertie has invited Spence and me back to her house,” Zoe interrupted, coming to Gertie’s rescue. The Bagley sisters, she knew, were lovers of swing and blues, not heavy, thundering Beethoven.
“Yes, indeed,” said Miss Gertie, looking relieved. “For hot chocolate. You, too, Elizabeth. If you can break away.”
Mrs. Riley declined—with regrets. The recital, she said, took “hours and hours of practice. And you, young man, have to practice your cello.” She handed the pot to Miss Gertie and headed a reluctant Spence toward the door.
“I’ll find out,” Zoe mouthed, and pointed at Miss Gertie’s retreating back.
“Can you remember anything else?” Zoe asked Miss Gertie when she was settled in the Bagley kitchen with its yellow-and-green-flowered wallpaper, white ruffled curtains, and ceiling hung with dried garlic and basil and a dozen other herbs.
“A short creature with a light is all I can tell you, dear. It was coming from the back of the Riley home and running on down the road. But it does sound like a clue, doesn’t it?”
“With something in its arms? A red baggage car?”
“Something, I think, yes. But I couldn’t tell you what. It was too dark, even with the creature’s light.”
The thought of a homeless child had appeal for Zoe. She wouldn’t feel so bad about the stolen baggage car if the thief was a child who could love and appreciate it.
“But why would that child take that particular car?” Miss Maud asked, as Zoe herself had asked.
“Because it’s red?” Miss Gertie suggested. “The color red is so magical, don’t you think, Maud? It’s the color of fire and royalty and—”
“Blood?” offered Miss Maud, who always had a mystery novel beside her living room chair.
Zoe shuddered. Blood made her think of Mr. Boomer’s basement. But it couldn’t have been Juniper Boomer who stole the baggage car. He wasn’t short at all—unless of course he was walking on his knees. That was possible, though hard. The more she thought about Boomer on his knees, the more she convinced herself that he was the thief. And that he was the child in that photo: waving at the train that stole away his father and turned little Juniper into an orphan. An
Ms. Delores was just driving off when Miss Gertie came trotting up. She was waving her arms in excitement. “I’m so glad to see you! I spotted you getting out of the car. I just remembered what else it was I’d seen that night.”
11
ZOE HAS A PLAN
“An animal, I thought at first,” said Miss Gertie. “But then I thought, well, goodness, how could an animal carry a light? So my next thought was…” She hesitated a moment as though she might have forgotten what her next thought was. Zoe held her breath. “A child,” Gertie said finally, “yes, I thought, it’s a child. It was so low to the ground, you see. But what would a child be doing out so late at night? Unless it’s one of those poor homeless ones. A child looking for a train to play with!” she finished triumphantly.
“But if it’s homeless,” said Zoe, “how would it get a track to run the train on? And why the baggage car? Why not that jazzy red-white-and-blue engine?”
“Yeah,” Spence chimed in. “Why take my baggage car right out of the middle of the train?”
Miss Gertie looked blank. “I can’t imagine, dear. Really I can’t. I can only tell you what I thought I saw. It was after midnight, you know. Though I was wearing my glasses. I always put them on when I get up. I’m terribly nearsighted, have been ever since fourth grade. It was one day, you see, when I couldn’t see the blackboard and—”
“Gertie?” Mrs. Riley came running out with an empty soup pot to return to the sisters. “Come on in. I’m rehearsing Beethoven’s Ninth for a recital. Can I try it out on you?”
“Oh, mercy,” said Miss Gertie, “Mercy, I…”
“Miss Gertie has invited Spence and me back to her house,” Zoe interrupted, coming to Gertie’s rescue. The Bagley sisters, she knew, were lovers of swing and blues, not heavy, thundering Beethoven.
“Yes, indeed,” said Miss Gertie, looking relieved. “For hot chocolate. You, too, Elizabeth. If you can break away.”
Mrs. Riley declined—with regrets. The recital, she said, took “hours and hours of practice. And you, young man, have to practice your cello.” She handed the pot to Miss Gertie and headed a reluctant Spence toward the door.
“I’ll find out,” Zoe mouthed, and pointed at Miss Gertie’s retreating back.
“Can you remember anything else?” Zoe asked Miss Gertie when she was settled in the Bagley kitchen with its yellow-and-green-flowered wallpaper, white ruffled curtains, and ceiling hung with dried garlic and basil and a dozen other herbs.
“A short creature with a light is all I can tell you, dear. It was coming from the back of the Riley home and running on down the road. But it does sound like a clue, doesn’t it?”
“With something in its arms? A red baggage car?”
“Something, I think, yes. But I couldn’t tell you what. It was too dark, even with the creature’s light.”
The thought of a homeless child had appeal for Zoe. She wouldn’t feel so bad about the stolen baggage car if the thief was a child who could love and appreciate it.
“But why would that child take that particular car?” Miss Maud asked, as Zoe herself had asked.
“Because it’s red?” Miss Gertie suggested. “The color red is so magical, don’t you think, Maud? It’s the color of fire and royalty and—”
“Blood?” offered Miss Maud, who always had a mystery novel beside her living room chair.
Zoe shuddered. Blood made her think of Mr. Boomer’s basement. But it couldn’t have been Juniper Boomer who stole the baggage car. He wasn’t short at all—unless of course he was walking on his knees. That was possible, though hard. The more she thought about Boomer on his knees, the more she convinced herself that he was the thief. And that he was the child in that photo: waving at the train that stole away his father and turned little Juniper into an orphan. An
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