orphan who planned revenge. Revenge on—who? What? Someone on the train who hated his father, was abducting him?
And Juniper Boomer was planning to kill that kidnapper and bury him in the basement?
She looked up at the two sisters, who were calmly sipping chocolate, their faces shining like twin moons. “Yes, it might’ve been Boomer,” she said, and she described all the awful possibilities.
“Oh,” Miss Gertie cried. “How clever of you to think of all that! Isn’t she clever, Maud?”
“Very clever indeed,” said Maud. “She was always at the top of the class when I taught her in Branbury Elementary, weren’t you, dear.”
Zoe looked down modestly. She recalled a few math tests she’d flubbed, but there was no point reminding Miss Maud of that. She’d gotten by with her father’s help. “But we have to keep our suspicions a secret, please,” she begged, taking a last sip of hot chocolate.
“A secret, oh absolutely,” Miss Gertie said.
“Absolutely,” Miss Maud repeated, and giggled. “Just among the three of us.”
The phone rang. It was her mother, Zoe figured from the conversation. “It was our fault,” Miss Gertie was saying, “we enticed her over here for hot chocolate. School hasn’t started yet, has it?” Miss Gertie listened to Zoe’s mother a moment, then made a face. “Oh, yes, chores. We all have to do them, don’t we? And you’re working so hard, Sally, in that French school.”
It was the right thing to say. Zoe’s mother loved a sympathetic ear. She loved to tell how hard it was to speak French all summer and do papers and read thick novels en français, and still come home to cook dinner.
“Squash leek soup for you!” Miss Gertie cried. “We’ll send over a gallon with Zoe—you can thaw it for tomorrow’s supper.”
Her mother disliked leeks, Zoe knew, but she carried it home anyway and stuck it in their freezer where it might sit for all eternity behind the frozen broccoli and the brussels sprouts that everyone despised. Then she told her mother she was going to volunteer at the circus and her mother frowned, but her father, who’d just come in from the apple barn, said, “Good for you, kid! I always wanted to run away with the circus when I was your age. I mean, we don’t want Zoe running off, do we, Sally? So we’ll let her volunteer, get it out of her system?”
“You don’t know Zoe’s system,” her mother said. “Things get trapped in her head. She gets a bone and you can’t take it away from her.”
Her father won; her mother’s mind was on a French paper due the next day. “Besides, Mr. Elwood said, “Ms. Delores will be there, right Zoe? And I might go to one of the performances myself. How about it, Kelby?” he hollered into the woodstove pipe that stuck up through the kitchen ceiling and into the hall opposite Kelby’s room. “You and I will take in the Saturday matinee? See those clowns Zoe’s been talking about?”
“See her make a fool of herself?” Kelby’s voice echoed down through the pipe.
“We’ll all go,” Mr. Elwood said. “You, me, and your mother. We’ll munch some of those cotton candy monsters that stick to your nose and drip down the front of your shirt.”
And that settled it. Her mother loved cotton candy. There was no moaning about one more French paper.
Afterward, Zoe called Spence on the upstairs phone to tell him what Miss Gertie had said and to outline her plan for the next morning.
“But I can’t do that! And you know he won’t,” Spence said. “We can never make that happen!”
“We can,” Zoe said. “We have to. We’ve no time to lose. You don’t want a dead body on your hands, do you?”
THURSDAY
12
A SURPRISE VISIT
Zoe was heading for Spence’s place to carry out her plan. It was a glorious morning: sun glazing the apples a glossy red and the distant mountains a delicate lavender. Her father was on a ladder grafting a Northern Spy twig onto a tree full of
And Juniper Boomer was planning to kill that kidnapper and bury him in the basement?
She looked up at the two sisters, who were calmly sipping chocolate, their faces shining like twin moons. “Yes, it might’ve been Boomer,” she said, and she described all the awful possibilities.
“Oh,” Miss Gertie cried. “How clever of you to think of all that! Isn’t she clever, Maud?”
“Very clever indeed,” said Maud. “She was always at the top of the class when I taught her in Branbury Elementary, weren’t you, dear.”
Zoe looked down modestly. She recalled a few math tests she’d flubbed, but there was no point reminding Miss Maud of that. She’d gotten by with her father’s help. “But we have to keep our suspicions a secret, please,” she begged, taking a last sip of hot chocolate.
“A secret, oh absolutely,” Miss Gertie said.
“Absolutely,” Miss Maud repeated, and giggled. “Just among the three of us.”
The phone rang. It was her mother, Zoe figured from the conversation. “It was our fault,” Miss Gertie was saying, “we enticed her over here for hot chocolate. School hasn’t started yet, has it?” Miss Gertie listened to Zoe’s mother a moment, then made a face. “Oh, yes, chores. We all have to do them, don’t we? And you’re working so hard, Sally, in that French school.”
It was the right thing to say. Zoe’s mother loved a sympathetic ear. She loved to tell how hard it was to speak French all summer and do papers and read thick novels en français, and still come home to cook dinner.
“Squash leek soup for you!” Miss Gertie cried. “We’ll send over a gallon with Zoe—you can thaw it for tomorrow’s supper.”
Her mother disliked leeks, Zoe knew, but she carried it home anyway and stuck it in their freezer where it might sit for all eternity behind the frozen broccoli and the brussels sprouts that everyone despised. Then she told her mother she was going to volunteer at the circus and her mother frowned, but her father, who’d just come in from the apple barn, said, “Good for you, kid! I always wanted to run away with the circus when I was your age. I mean, we don’t want Zoe running off, do we, Sally? So we’ll let her volunteer, get it out of her system?”
“You don’t know Zoe’s system,” her mother said. “Things get trapped in her head. She gets a bone and you can’t take it away from her.”
Her father won; her mother’s mind was on a French paper due the next day. “Besides, Mr. Elwood said, “Ms. Delores will be there, right Zoe? And I might go to one of the performances myself. How about it, Kelby?” he hollered into the woodstove pipe that stuck up through the kitchen ceiling and into the hall opposite Kelby’s room. “You and I will take in the Saturday matinee? See those clowns Zoe’s been talking about?”
“See her make a fool of herself?” Kelby’s voice echoed down through the pipe.
“We’ll all go,” Mr. Elwood said. “You, me, and your mother. We’ll munch some of those cotton candy monsters that stick to your nose and drip down the front of your shirt.”
And that settled it. Her mother loved cotton candy. There was no moaning about one more French paper.
Afterward, Zoe called Spence on the upstairs phone to tell him what Miss Gertie had said and to outline her plan for the next morning.
“But I can’t do that! And you know he won’t,” Spence said. “We can never make that happen!”
“We can,” Zoe said. “We have to. We’ve no time to lose. You don’t want a dead body on your hands, do you?”
THURSDAY
12
A SURPRISE VISIT
Zoe was heading for Spence’s place to carry out her plan. It was a glorious morning: sun glazing the apples a glossy red and the distant mountains a delicate lavender. Her father was on a ladder grafting a Northern Spy twig onto a tree full of
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