Mystery of the Wild Ponies (6 page)

“Did you see who this person was?” Winifred demanded.

Jessie shook her head. “No. We were wondering if you noticed anybody walking past your place. It was around nine o’clock.”

“I was watching the news then.” Winifred set the bowl down. “I’ll have to paint something else, I guess.”

Abruptly she went inside her house.

Jessie clucked her tongue. “That woman has the worst manners! She doesn’t even say good-bye, after she accused us of stealing her apples.”

“She’s not very polite,” Henry agreed. “But at least we found out one thing. She was in her house when we saw that person, so it couldn’t have been her.”

“That’s what she
says,
” Benny replied. He wasn’t sure he trusted the artist.

“I looked at her feet,” Violet reported. She held her hands apart. “They’re
really
big.”

Jessie giggled. “Yeah! Way bigger than the footprints we found.”

“Okay,” said Henry. “So it wasn’t Winifred who left those prints.”

The children wandered down to the beach again. They walked along the water’s edge and discussed the case.

“Who keeps taking Winifred’s stuff?” asked Jessie.

“My stuff, too,” Benny said. “Somebody swiped my peanut butter, banana, and mayonnaise sandwich, remember?”

Violet ticked off the missing items on one hand. “Winifred’s beach towel, Benny’s sandwich, and now the apples. Things taken from our house and her house.”

“But not Jeremy’s house,” Henry observed, glancing back at the brown house. “The college kids haven’t complained once about anything being stolen.”

Violet thought of something. “The person we saw last night was walking toward the college kids’ house—”

“And Jeremy likes to play jokes,” Henry reminded them. “He told us so himself. Suppose he took the towel and the apples to be funny. And remember how he ‘borrowed’ a goat to play a joke on his professor?”

“I suppose he could be a suspect,” Jessie admitted reluctantly. She thought Jeremy was nice.

Violet stooped to pick up a rosy shell. “Who else can we think of?”

“In which case?” asked Henry.

“What do you mean?” Violet said.

Henry tossed a pebble into a tide pool. “We’ve got two mysteries here. The missing items. And the missing horse.”

“Midnight is more important than a bunch of apples,” Benny declared. “What could have happened to him?”

“Well, we saw the picture Winifred painted of a black horse,” said Jessie. “I bet that horse is Midnight.”

“But she claimed she didn’t see any horses the day she drove to the sanctuary,” Violet said.

“Like Benny said, that’s what she
told
us,” said Henry. “Maybe she got Midnight away from the herd, took him somewhere, and painted his picture.”

“Or maybe she isn’t only an artist but also a horse thief,” said Violet. “Maybe she paints a horse and finds a buyer by showing the painting.”

“I don’t know,” said Henry. “She said she’d moved here without really knowing anything about the horses.”

“But maybe she told us that on purpose!” Jessie said.

Henry looked at his sisters with approval. “Those are interesting theories. You two got a lot out of that conversation we overheard.”

Jessie and Violet smiled at each other.

“What do you think Winifred meant when she said the horse was ‘the best’ and the others were ‘worthless’?” Violet wanted to know.

Jessie thought a moment. “Maybe when she saw the herd she figured Midnight was the prettiest and that’s why she painted him. The others aren’t as pretty.”

“I think they are,” Benny chimed in.

“I think so, too,” said Violet. “But Winifred is an artist. She sees things in a different way.”

“We can’t rule out Jeremy, either,” Henry said. “He keeps talking about the big stunts he pulled. If he took Midnight, that would be a
really
big stunt.”

“You’re right,” agreed Benny. “Jeremy could have horsenapped Midnight as easily as Winifred.”

“We’re forgetting a suspect,” said Violet. “Shad.”

Henry nodded. “Shad has the biggest reason of all for taking Midnight.”

“What’s that?” asked Benny. He liked the old fisherman.

“He hates the way the ponies are locked up,” Henry replied. “Shad wants them loose, like they used to be.”

Jessie threw up her hands. “As usual, we have a lot of questions and no answers! Let’s check where I put the food out last night. Maybe we’ll find a clue we overlooked.”

Near the dune, they located a ring-shaped mark in the sand where the bucket had stood.

Benny noticed a glint of silver tangled in the sea grass. He pulled out a fine silver chain with a dark gray object dangling from it.

“What is
this?
” he asked, holding up the chain.

Jessie knew instantly. “It’s a shark’s tooth. Violet and I saw necklaces just like that in the jewelry store yesterday.”

“A real shark’s tooth?” Benny was fascinated.

“Whoever took your food probably lost this necklace at the same time,” Henry said to Jessie. “Probably when he—or she—bent over.”

“Can I have it?” Benny asked. The necklace was the coolest thing he’d ever seen.

“We might find the owner,” Jessie told him. “So I’d better hang on to it for safekeeping. But the next time we go to those little shops, Violet and I will buy you a shark’s tooth.”

As he watched his sister stow the necklace in her shorts pocket, Benny had a niggling thought. The necklace looked sort of familiar.

Where had he seen a necklace like that before?

Shad was fishing at the end of the dock, sitting on an old camp stool. The brown pelican eyed Shad’s bait in a plastic fish-market bucket.

Jessie realized the bucket was just like the one their clams had come in. Was it the same bucket? Was it Shad who took the plate of food she’d put out last night?

“Mornin’,” he greeted them.

“Hi,” said Henry. “Catch anything yet?”

“A few minnows,” Shad replied. “Threw ’em back. What are y’all doing up so early?”

“We were walking on the beach,” said Violet.

Jessie pulled the necklace out of her pocket. “We found this. We wondered if it might be yours.” If the necklace belonged to Shad, then she’d know he had taken the food plate.

Shad shook his head. “Not mine. Nobody I know wears one of those. You know, it’s bad luck to wear them.”

“Really?” Benny’s eyes grew round.

“Well … that’s what I’ve heard.” Suddenly Shad became very interested in checking his line.

Jessie was certain he was making that up, about shark’s teeth being bad luck. But why?

The older man rose. “I just remembered. I have to go home.” Reeling in his line, he picked up his rod and bucket and clumped down the dock.

“That was weird,” said Violet. “He didn’t want to talk to us this time.”

“He’s certainly acting suspicious,” said Henry. “I wonder if he catches all his food. He’s always fishing, either on this dock or on the beach.”

“He must get sick of fish,” said Benny, who didn’t much like fish himself.

Jessie agreed. “He’s kind of thin. I wonder if he’s hungry.” Then she thought, Was Shad so hungry he had to steal food?

At that moment, the kids heard a piercing whistle.

“What’s that?” asked Violet.

“It’s coming from the road,” said Benny. “Let’s check it out.”

They ran down the dock and across the short, cropped grass by the road.

Thomas Hyde was standing in the middle of the two-lane road. He was halting traffic by blowing a whistle and holding up his hands.

When the cars had stopped, several ponies poked their heads through the bayberry bushes.

“Look!” cried Benny. “They’re coming over to our side!”

The horses daintily stepped onto the road and crossed single file. Tourists in their cars clapped at the sight. A few snapped pictures. Violet wished she had brought her own camera.

When the horses were safely on the other side, Officer Hyde dropped his hands and gave a short all-clear blast on his whistle. Traffic moved once more.

The kids watched as the horses nibbled grass on the bank. Officer Hyde joined them.

“Good morning,” he said. “You guys are really lucky. Tourists wait all summer to see the horses away from the sanctuary. Most people never
do
see them.”

“We’ve seen them three times,” Benny said. “Twice at the sanctuary and now here. Will they be all right?”

“I’ll stay with them,” Officer Hyde said. “Eventually I’ll get them back to the pen. They like to roam. It’s only natural. At one time, the whole island was theirs. Now they have to stay in one little corner of it.”

“Did you find Midnight?” Henry asked.

Officer Hyde shook his head. “But I’ll tell you what I did find. A break in the dune fence on the Sound side. Black hair was snagged on a broken slat.”

“Is Midnight hurt?” asked Violet, concerned.

“He could be,” Officer Hyde replied. “That was obviously where Midnight escaped—or was forced—from the sanctuary. If he’s hurt, he probably needs medical attention.”

The Aldens looked at one another.

Midnight must be found … and fast!

“Let’s have our lunch on the deck,” Jessie suggested.

“Good idea.” Henry loaded a tray with egg-salad sandwiches and a plate of carrot and celery sticks.

Violet followed him out the sliding glass doors with a pitcher of limeade.

The children sat down on the deck chairs and began eating.

Jessie was looking at Winifred Gorman’s house. The artist had come out on her own deck. She saw the Alden children and waved.

“Come on over,” she called. “I made brownies.”

Jessie looked at Henry in astonishment. “Did she just invite us over for brownies?”

“You heard right,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Let’s go. It’ll be a good chance to find out more about the pony painting.”

Violet stacked their lunch things on the tray. “I’ll be right out. I want to show something to Winifred.”

She returned moments later with her sketch pad. Then the kids walked over to their neighbor’s house.

Winifred had arranged the chairs around the umbrella table. A plate of vanilla-iced brownies sat in the middle.

“Help yourself,” she said. “If you don’t, I’ll eat them all myself. My waistline can’t afford it!”

Benny was confused. First Winifred was mad at them. She thought they had stolen her apples. Now she was giving them brownies. But Benny couldn’t resist. He took a brownie and tasted it. He never turned down chocolate.

“Mmm,” he pronounced. “Good.”

Winifred smiled. Benny had never seen the woman smile before. Why was she so nice all of a sudden?

“May I show you something?” Violet asked the artist. “It’s a drawing I did.”

“Sure!” Winifred opened Violet’s book and examined the sketch of a bird. “You used one line! Isn’t that a fun technique?”

“Did I do it right?” Violet asked anxiously.

“Art is about expressing oneself,” said Winifred. “There is no right or wrong way.”

“Can you draw like that? Just using one line?” Violet wanted to know.

“Of course.” Winifred reached down by her chair for her own drawing pad. Taking a pencil from her pocket, she flipped to a fresh page. “You can draw people this way, too. Just put your pencil down and start with the eyes—don’t pick up your pencil until you’re done.”

As she talked, she rapidly sketched Violet’s features using a single line. She tore off the page and gave it to Violet.

Violet was thrilled. “That’s wonderful! Thank you.”

As Winifred closed her sketchbook, Henry noticed a drawing of another face. The artist saw him looking and closed the book quickly.

Henry was suspicious. Why had Winifred invited them over? She usually acted like they were a nuisance. The woman must want something from them, but what? Maybe if he learned more about her …

“Are you going to live here all the time?” he asked.

“I have a studio in New York City,” said Winifred. “This summer I came down here on vacation.”

“Like us,” Benny put in.

Winifred smiled. “Well, I took a vacation from my work. People aren’t buying my paintings. I thought a change of scenery would be good for me.”

“And has it been?” asked Jessie.

“I think it has,” the artist replied. “I might sell my studio and live here all the time. It’s very peaceful.”

“Except for the robberies,” Henry brought up.

Winifred frowned. “What robberies?”

“You know, your missing beach towel. And the apples.”

“Oh, those,” Winifred said. “I found the beach towel the other day. As for the apples, no great loss.”

“But you were really upset,” Benny reminded her.

“That’s because I was worried about my work,” she explained. “I know I haven’t been a very nice neighbor, and I’m sorry about that,” she added quietly. “But now I’m painting better than ever. A bowl of missing apples is nothing.”

Jessie was amazed at how Winifred had changed her tune. Every time they had seen the woman, she was grouchy. Now she was nice as pie! What was going on?

At that moment, Benny stood up. “Grandfather’s back,” he said. Then he saw another car pull into the driveway behind their station wagon.