Ghost in the First Row (4 page)

Ray dried his hands on a rag. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out some dollar bills. “Let me pay you for—”

Jessie shook her head firmly. “Please put your money away Ray.”

“But …” he protested.

“We like to help,” Violet said in her soft voice.

Ray hesitated for a moment. Then he shoved the dollar bills into his pocket again. “If you won’t accept money then at least accept my invitation to the dress rehearsal tomorrow night. We’re having a potluck dinner for the cast and crew afterwards. I’d love to have you and your aunt join us.”

“We’ll check with Aunt Jane,” said Jessie.

“But I’m pretty sure you can count us in.”

“I hope so,” said Ray turning back to his work.

Benny was curious. “What are you making, Ray?”

“I’m making that mold of the butler’s footprint, Benny. The stagehands are busy backstage, so I thought I’d do it myself.”

“Super!” said Benny.

“I already made an impression of the butler’s shoe in the mud.”

Ray nodded towards a square container filled with dirt. “It’s important to make the mold before the mud dries.”

“Why’s that?” Henry wondered.

“A footprint shrinks as the mud dries, Henry,” Ray explained. “For the mold to fit the butler’s shoe exactly it has to be made while the dirt’s still wet.”

“That makes sense,” said Henry.

The Aldens watched as the theater director stirred the plaster of Paris with water. When it was just the right thickness, he poured the mixture into the footprint.

“That should do it. Hopefully, the ghosts won’t get at it before the plaster sets,” Ray said with a wink.

Jessie caught Henry’s eye. Was Ray joking—or did he really believe the theater was haunted?

“Let’s get that tape recorder for Ray before we forget,” Jessie suggested, as they wheeled their bikes into Aunt Jane’s driveway.

“Good idea,” said Henry.

“Ray said it was in the box with Alice’s tapes,” Benny reminded them, following the others into the shed.

“That’s funny,” Violet said, looking around. “I’m sure it was right here on the table.” Now there was nothing on the table but the old typewriter.

“I don’t understand it,” said Henry.

Jessie frowned. “What happened?”

“It was stolen,” said Benny.

“Oh, Benny,” said Jessie. “Who would steal Alice Duncan’s tapes?”

“A thief, that’s who!” Benny cried.

Henry looked over at his little brother. “You’re thinking about last night, right?”

“I saw somebody out by the shed, Henry,” Benny insisted. “I’m sure of it.”

Jessie and Violet were surprised to hear this.

“But who would do such a thing?” Violet wondered. “And why?”

“Let’s not say anything about the tapes,” Henry suggested, “until we have a chance to do some investigating.”

Over dinner, the Aldens took turns telling their aunt all about the latest prank. Violet finished by saying, “A spotlight was shining on a seat in the first row.”

“I can’t believe it!” Aunt Jane shook her head. “Those practical jokes won’t seem very funny if they scare people away.”

“Don’t worry, Aunt Jane,” said Benny. “We cleaned up the popcorn before anybody else could see it.”

“That was good thinking, Benny,” Aunt Jane told him, as she pushed her chair back.

“We’ll do the dishes, Aunt Jane,” Violet offered.

“Oh, thanks, Violet. It’ll give me a chance to get some other work done.” With that, Aunt Jane left the room.

“Maybe if we put our heads together,” Jessie said, as she wrapped the leftover pasta, “we can get to the bottom of it.”

But Violet wasn’t so sure. “This is a tough mystery to figure out.”

“Know what?” said Benny. “I think Alice’s tapes will show up again—in a strange place.”

“What makes you say that?” Jessie asked her little brother.

“Remember what happened when Lady Chadwick’s hat disappeared?” Benny reminded them. “They found it hanging from the chandelier in the lobby!”

Violet, who was filling the sink with soapy water, suddenly looked over. “You think the disappearing tapes is just another prank?”

“It’s possible,” Henry said thoughtfully.

Benny had an opinion about this. “I bet it is a trick,” he said. “And I bet Gil Diggs is behind it.”

“Gil’s up to something, all right,” said Henry. “I’m just not sure it has anything to do with the ghostly pranks.”

“But we heard him on the phone,” Benny argued. “Remember? He was talking about shutting it down.”

“And the Trap-Door Theater
will
shut down,” Violet pointed out, “if everybody’s scared away by rumors of ghosts.”

“You’re forgetting something,” Jessie said. “Gil doesn’t have a key to the theater.”

“That’s true,” said Henry. “Ray told us he has the only key.”

“And he said there was no sign anyone broke in,” Violet recalled.

“What if Gil is working with someone else?” Jessie suggested.

Henry hadn’t thought of that. “There was somebody on the other end of that phone conversation,” he admitted. “Maybe Gil knows somebody in the cast.”

“Or the crew,” added Benny.

Henry reached for a dishtowel. “Gil is afraid the Trap-Door Theater will take away even more customers,” he admitted. “But he’s not the only suspect.”

“You’re thinking about Tricia Jenkins, right?” said Jessie.

Benny looked puzzled. “Why would Tricia play tricks on everyone?”

“There’s no reason for her to do something like that,” said Violet.

“What if she’s trying to get rid of Fern Robson?” Henry suggested.

“By convincing her the theater’s haunted?” asked Violet.

“We have to think of everything,” Henry pointed out. “And Tricia doesn’t seem to like Fern very much.”

“She didn’t seem very happy to see Fern’s name on the billboard above the title,” Jessie had to admit.

“It’s not very nice to scare people.” A frown crossed Benny’s round face.

“No, it’s not,” agreed Violet, who was up to her elbows in soapy suds. “Fern’s a nervous wreck.”

“Maybe that’s just what she wants everyone to believe,” Jessie said. “Maybe she isn’t nervous at all.”

Henry turned to Jessie in surprise. “You think it’s an act?”

“Could be,” Jessie said, putting the clean plates into the cupboard. “It does seem to get her what she wants.”

Henry added everything up on his fingers. “First she gets a bigger dressing room. Then she gets to sleep in late.”

“And don’t forget about getting her name above the title,” put in Jessie.

They had to admit it was possible. After all, Fern was an actress—and a good one. And wasn’t Ray eager to keep her happy so she wouldn’t quit?

“You really think Fern set up all those pranks just to get her own way?” Violet found it hard to believe.

Jessie shrugged. “Well, she seems to be able to wrap Ray around her little finger by acting frightened.”

“It does seem that way,” Violet said. But she didn’t like to think Fern would do something so sneaky.

“Let’s keep an eye on all of them,” Henry suggested. “Gil, Tricia, and Fern.”

Jessie suddenly looked around. “Where’s Benny?”

Henry looked around, too. “I don’t know.”

A few minutes later, Benny came in from the backyard. There was a smudge of dirt on his nose.

“Where were you, Benny?” Jessie wanted to know.

“I was on a top-secret mission,” Benny said mysteriously. “But I can’t tell you about it just yet.”

The other Aldens looked at one other. What was their little brother up to?

When the Aldens came downstairs the next morning, a pancake breakfast was waiting for them. Aunt Jane was having a cup of coffee and reading the paper. She looked up as the children came into the room.

“You’re not going to believe what’s in the paper,” she said, shaking her head.

The Aldens were instantly curious. As they crowded around, Aunt Jane read the headline aloud:
IS THE TRAP-DOOR THEATER HAUNTED?

“Oh, no!” Violet cried.

Over breakfast, Aunt Jane read the article to them. It was all about the strange things that had been happening at the theater. It finished with the story of the spilled popcorn—and the spotlight shining on the first row.

“I don’t get it.” Henry lifted a sausage onto his plate. “We cleared all the popcorn away before anybody saw it. How did the newspaper find out?”

“I suppose somebody leaked it to them,” said Aunt Jane.

“But we were the only ones who knew about it,” Benny insisted, pouring syrup over his stack of pancakes.

“You’re forgetting about Ray,” Henry reminded them.

“Oh, right.” Benny licked a drop of syrup from the back of his hand.

“You think Ray told the paper?” Violet wondered.

Henry nodded. “That’d be my guess. After all, he said they wouldn’t do a write-up on the theater—unless it was sure to grab the readers’ attention.”

“But … will people still will buy tickets?” Benny wanted to know.

Aunt Jane sighed. “It could go either way.”

“Either way?” Benny repeated, not understanding.

“The Trap-Door Theater just made front-page news,” said Aunt Jane.

Henry understood what she meant. “Some people might think this is good publicity.”

Aunt Jane nodded. “Only time will tell if it brings folks into the theater or—”

“Scares them away,” finished Violet.

Everyone was unusually quiet as they ate breakfast. They were lost in thought about the mystery. It wasn’t until they stepped outside that Benny spoke up.

“Come on!” he said, breaking into a run. “Come and see what I made.”

Henry, Jessie, and Violet hurried across the yard behind Benny. They came to a stop outside the shed.

“It’s a mold of the prowler’s footprint,” Benny told them proudly.

Sure enough, a shoeprint in the dirt had been filled with plaster.

“So that’s what you were up to yesterday!” Jessie realized.

Benny nodded, beaming. “Now we can figure out who stole the box of tapes.”

“That’s good detective work, Benny,” Henry said, taking a closer look at the mold. “There’s only one problem … a prowler didn’t make this footprint.”

“How can you be sure?” Jessie asked.

Henry pulled off his sneaker. “Take a look at the tread on the bottom of my shoe.”

“Oh!” cried Violet. “It matches the markings in the plaster.”

Benny’s jaw dropped. “But …”

“I stepped in the mud yesterday,” Henry explained, “when I came out to get Alice’s appointment book for Aunt Jane.”

“That can’t be your shoeprint, Henry,” Benny insisted. “See? The mold’s too small for your shoe.”

“Benny’s right,” Violet said.

“There’s a reason for that,” Henry said. “The footprint was made when the ground was still wet from the rain. Remember what Ray told us? A footprint shrinks when the sun dries up the mud.”

“Oh, right. And Benny made the mold after the sun had been out all day,” Jessie realized.

Benny’s shoulders slumped. He looked crushed. Violet felt her little brother’s disappointment. “Never mind,” she said, as they walked their bikes across the yard. “It was a good try.”

“It sure was,” agreed Jessie. “Nobody else even thought of looking for footprints.”

Benny brightened. “Good detectives always think of stuff like that.”

“Come on, Benny,” Henry said, giving his brother a playful nudge. “We’ve got posters to put up.” With that, the four Aldens pedaled away.

When they arrived at the Trap-Door Theater, they spotted Ray giving directions to the crew on stage. As the children came down the aisle, the director looked up and gave them a friendly wave.

“Be right with you, kids!” he called out. “Why don’t you take a seat for a minute?”

“Ray won’t be very happy when he finds out about the missing tape recorder,” Henry said, as they sat down in the front row.

“And the missing tapes,” added Jessie.

Benny, who was bending over to tie up his shoe, suddenly said, “That’s funny.”

“What’s is it, Benny?” Jessie asked.

“There’s something under my seat.”

The others looked over as Benny pulled out a wooden box.

“Is that what I think it is?” Violet asked in disbelief.

As Benny lifted the lid, they all stared wide-eyed at Alice’s tapes.

“Look,” said Jessie. “The tape recorder’s in there, too.”

“Uh-oh!” Benny’s eyes were huge. “I bet I’m sitting in Alice Duncan’s seat!”

Just then, Ray hurried over with the posters. “Sorry to keep you waiting. These are the last of the posters.” He looked surprised when he spotted the tapes on Benny’s lap.