Mary Anne and the Library Mystery Read online

  I told them.

  “I don’t get it,” said Kristy. “Why would anyone set books on fire?”

  “What else is there to burn in a library?” asked Claudia, with a shrug.

  She had a point. But then I thought of something. “You know, I don’t think this is something Miss Ellway would bother with,” I said. “If somebody was determined to destroy the library — I mean, burn the whole thing down — why would she make little fires in places like sinks and trash cans?”

  Kristy was looking at me and nodding. “You’re right,” she said. “If you really wanted to burn a place down, you’d just pour gasoline all over the floor and run for it.”

  “Yuck,” said Claudia. We sat quietly for a moment, imagining the library in flames. It was a horrible thing even to think about. Then Kristy looked at her watch.

  “I have to get going,” she said. “I’m meeting Charlie over at the high school, and he’s going to give me a ride home.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” I said. “I should get home, too.” I think we all felt a little overwhelmed. Now that we knew that not one, but two books had been burned, the fires at the library seemed more serious.

  * * *

  The next day, something happened that upset me. I was at the library, working with the Readathon kids. Things were quieting down a little, now that most of the kids were registered and their sponsors were lined up. I was still busy making reading suggestions and helping them find books, though. Anyway, what happened was this: I was looking with Nicky Pike for a book about dog-training. (The Pikes recently inherited a bassett hound from the Barretts.) I pulled it off the shelf for him, and we sat down at a table to look it over. As he was reaching for it, he knocked his jacket off his chair, and something fell out of his jacket pocket. Guess what it was.

  A pack of matches. Matches with a red-and-white logo on them, the kind you see everywhere.

  “Nicky!” I said, picking them up.

  “What?” he asked, in this completely innocent voice. I showed him the matches, and he turned pale. “Those aren’t mine,” he said quickly.

  “They were in your pocket,” I replied gently. Something in his voice made me want to believe he was telling the truth.

  “I don’t know how they got there, I swear!” Nicky looked as if he were about to cry. I gave him a little hug.

  “It’s okay, Nicky,” I said. “I believe you.” I did believe him, too. But I couldn’t help wondering how those matches had ended up in his pocket. This was serious business, and I knew I would have to bring it up at the club meeting.

  Later on, when I did, we agreed that Nicky seemed to be telling the truth, and we decided not to tell Mr. and Mrs. Pike about the incident. We did call Mallory, though, and she talked for a long time with Nicky. He stuck to his story, insisting that he had not seen the matches before. He also insisted on helping us solve the mystery of the fires. He was determined to prove his innocence. It looked as if the BSC Detective Agency was going to have a new junior member.

  After school on Monday, Jessi headed for the Pikes’ house to pick up Nicky and take him to the library. She stopped at home first, so by the time she reached the Pikes’ all the younger kids had returned home and the Pike household was in a state of chaos.

  Vanessa answered the door. “Hi, Jessi,” she said. “Want to hear the haiku I just wrote about wintertime?”

  Before Jessi could answer, she heard a thundering sound as the triplets ran down the stairs. “Jessi!” said Adam. “We’re having races upstairs! Want to come watch us?”

  Then Claire traipsed into the room, looking elegant in a floor-length gown (actually one of Mrs. Pike’s bathrobes) and high heels. “Lovely to meet you,” she said. “I’m Mrs. Filthy-Rich, and I’d like to invite you to my tea party.” Claire’s five years old, and she adores dressing up.

  “Our tea party,” said Margo from behind her. Margo, who’s seven, was dressed in a long white nightshirt that must have belonged to her father, and a pink feather boa.

  “Know what, guys?” Jessi said. “I’d love to hear your poems and watch your races and drink tea with you, but I’m really just here to pick up Nicky.”

  “Nicky’s in his room,” said Adam. “We’ll get him.” The triplets took off, thundering back up the stairs.

  “And Mal’s in the living room,” said Vanessa.

  “Lying down already,” said Margo. “I guess school really tired her out today.”

  “She’s no fun anymore,” said Claire. “She can’t do anything.”

  “She’ll be better soon,” said Jessi. “I bet she’ll be playing with you again before you know it.” She headed for the living room, and found Mal lying on the couch, a blanket covering her.

  “Jessi!” said Mal. “Boy, is it great to see you. I feel like I never get to talk to you anymore, since I only see you at school.” A huge stack of books sat next to the couch, plus a drawing pad, pens, and a tray with a bottle of ginger ale standing next to a glass. “Whatever you do,” said Mal, “don’t get mono. It’s no fun.”

  “I know,” said Jessi sympathetically. “You must be so tired of being sick.”

  “How’s the BSC?” asked Mal. “Has everybody forgotten about me?”

  “No way. Everybody misses you like crazy. Especially me.” She handed Mallory a book she had brought. “I guess you’re probably tired of reading, but I found this at the library, and I knew you’d like it. It’s a new Marguerite Henry book, about this pony that’s a descendant of Misty. The school library doesn’t have it yet.”

  “Wow!” exclaimed Mal. “This looks terrific. Thanks a lot.” She reached down and picked up the drawing pad. “I wanted to show you something,” she said to Jessi. “I’ve been working on this idea for a picture book.”

  “Cool,” said Jessi. “Let’s see.” But just then, Nicky ran into the room.

  “Do we have to go the the library?” he asked Jessi. “I’d rather be in races.”

  “What about the Readathon, Nicky?” asked Jessi. “You already have your sponsors signed up and everything.”

  “I don’t want to go to that dumb old library,” muttered Nicky.

  Jessi and Mal exchanged a Look. They both knew what was wrong with Nicky. Even though they believed what he had said about the matches, they knew he probably felt he was under suspicion. And, as Jessi told me later, she hated to think that Nicky might develop negative feelings for the library. He wasn’t crazy about reading as it was.

  “Come on, Nicky,” said Jessi. “It’ll be fun.”

  “Nicky, would you do me a favor and pick out a book for me while you’re there?” asked Mallory. “That would be a big help.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Nicky, kicking his toe into the couch. “But I still don’t want to go.”

  “Didn’t I hear that you wanted to help solve the mystery of the fires?” asked Jessi gently. “Maybe we could find some clues at the library.”

  Nicky’s face brightened. “Do you think so? Okay, let’s go!”

  Jessi looked at Mal and shrugged. “I guess I’ll look at your picture book idea next time,” she said. She knew Mal would understand.

  When Jessi and Nicky arrived at the library, they found the place mobbed. Along with everyone else, I was there, and so was Kristy, who was with Rosie. Jessi at first tried to interest Nicky in finding some books, but he seemed distracted. He walked around with her as she hunted through the shelves, but he obviously wasn’t paying much attention. “Okay,” said Jessi, finally. “I’ve found you two more books. How about if we sign them out, and maybe you can tell Ms. Feld about the book you just read. If you pass her quiz, she’ll give you a certificate.”

  “Okay.” Nicky followed Jessi to the main desk, and gave his name to Miss Ellway, who checked out the books for him. Then they found Ms. Feld, who was busy cutting up construction paper for a bulletin board display.

  “Hi, Nicky,” she said. “Did you want to tell me about a book you read?”

  “Umm,” said Nicky,
looking down at his feet.

  “What was it about?” asked Ms. Feld gently.

  “Robots,” said Nicky.

  “Can you tell me a little more? For instance, what was one of the special robots they talked about in that book?”

  “Umm,” said Nicky. “I forget.” His gaze was wandering all over the library, and Jessi could tell his mind was more on fires than robots.

  “Maybe we’ll try again tomorrow,” said Jessi, smiling at Ms. Feld. “Okay, Nicky?”

  Nicky nodded. As they left Ms. Feld’s desk, He looked up at Jessi. “I can’t think about that book until I find out who started those fires.”

  “I know,” said Jessi sympathetically. She led Nicky to Kristy and Rosie who were reading near the Raggedy Ann doll. “Hi, you guys,” she said, sitting down next to Kristy. “What’s up?”

  “We’re just reading,” said Kristy. “But I don’t think Rosie has her mind on her book. She’s been talking about the fires all afternoon.”

  “I think it’s terrible,” said Rosie. “I can’t believe anybody would start a fire in a library. Especially our library. I want to find out who did it.”

  “Me, too!” said Nicky, excitedly. He turned to Jessi. “Can we be detectives now?” he asked.

  Jessi looked at Kristy, and they shrugged. Apparently the kids didn’t want to do anything else. Besides, they were pretty interested in the mystery themselves. “All right,” said Jessi. “But I doubt we’ll find much.”

  “I’m going to check out every corner of these rooms,” said Nicky.

  “Me, too,” agreed Rosie. The two of them set off, with Kristy and Jessi following them. They poked around in back of the card catalog. They pulled books out of the shelves and peered behind them. They searched through the magazine rack. But they didn’t turn up any clues.

  “Where was that second fire, again?” asked Nicky.

  “In a trash can,” Jessi told him. “Just outside the back door.”

  “Let’s look out there,” said Nicky. He led the way. Since the trash can was gone, there wasn’t much to see.

  Rosie looked disappointed, but Nicky still looked determined. He went back into the children’s room, leading the others, and turned his attention to the area around the back door. He moved a stool away from the wall and climbed it to check out the higher shelves. Rosie was looking at the lower ones. After a couple of minutes, Nicky stepped down from the stool and started to move it back to its original place.

  “Hey,” he said suddenly. He bent down and picked something up. “Look at this! It was under one of the stool’s legs.” He held out his hand, and we clustered around to take a look.

  Jessi gasped. “It’s a pack of matches!”

  “Whoa,” said Kristy. “I don’t believe it. I bet these are the ones somebody used to set that fire.”

  “There’s a few missing,” said Rosie, who had opened the pack for a closer look.

  “And the best part,” said Nicky, “is that they’re not the same kind of matches that were in my jacket pocket.”

  He was right. This one had a shiny cover. Jessi turned it over and saw “Chez Maurice” in gold script on the front. “These are from that French restaurant downtown,” she said. “Wow, you guys. This is a great clue.”

  “Yeah!” said Nicky. “Now all we have to do is stake out the place, and we’re bound to see the person who started the fires. Can we go now?”

  Once again, Jessi and Kristy looked at each other and shrugged. “Why not?” said Jessi.

  Kristy checked her watch. “We have some time before we need to get the kids home and head for our meeting,” she said. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Yay!” shouted Nicky and Rosie.

  “Shh!” I said. “Don’t forget, you’re in a library.”

  Kristy and Jessi filled me in quickly on what they had found and where they were going. I was dying to go with them, but I had to stay and help with the Readathon. I was trying to find a book — any book — for Sean Addison. It was so hard to get him excited about the Readathon.

  So, that’s how Jessi and Kristy and Nicky and Rosie ended up spending the afternoon at a fancy French restaurant. Of course, there wasn’t much to see at Chez Maurice (that name means “at Maurice’s house” in French, in case you’re wondering) on a Monday afternoon. Since the lunch hour was over, the maître d’ was practically the only one there (the maître d’ is sort of the king of the waiters). He was polishing silver, and he didn’t seem to want to be bothered with questions about his clients. His name did not happen to be Maurice, but Jessi told me later that he acted as if he owned the place.

  “He was totally unhelpful,” she said. “And even though we spied for over an hour, we didn’t see a thing. It was too early for people to be arriving for dinner.”

  Nicky and Rosie were disappointed, and so were Kristy and Jessi. They were worried, too. This wasn’t just a game — it was serious business. If they didn’t catch the firebug soon, the library could go up in smoke.

  On the way from school to the library two days later, I was thinking about how much I loved my new job. I felt involved in it, and, except for my worries about the fires, very happy. It was still cold and gray outside, and I still missed Logan and Dawn and Mallory, but I wasn’t bored anymore. Helping with the Readathon was keeping me awfully busy. Even when I wasn’t actually at the library, I often found myself thinking about the job, figuring out how Norman Hill could find more sponsors, wondering which book Charlotte might want to read next, or trying to come up with a book Sean could get excited about.

  As I neared the library, I noticed that the demonstrators were outside again. I had thought (okay, I had hoped) they had given up on getting those books banned, but I guess the cold weather had just kept them away for a while. Now they were back, and shouting as loudly as ever. “Protect our children!” they yelled. “Keep Stoneybrook clean!” A couple of them smiled at me as I hurried by: a woman in a bright green knit cap and a man carrying a sign that showed a book behind one of those red circles with a slash through it.

  I smiled back. I didn’t want to seem unfriendly, even though I didn’t agree with what they stood for.

  “You seem like a nice young lady,” said the woman with the hat. “Maybe you’d like to take one of these lists and look it over. We have a petition you can sign, if you agree that these books are dangerous for the children of Stoneybrook.”

  I took the list and smiled again, but I didn’t say anything. I would never sign a petition to ban books, but that didn’t mean I had to be rude. I made my way through the group of demonstrators and went into the library, giving the list a quick glance. The last time I’d seen it, I’d only noticed To Kill A Mockingbird. This time, I spotted some titles that really surprised me: Huckleberry Finn was on the list, and so was The Grapes of Wrath. I always thought those books were classics. What could be wrong with them? I also saw Bridge to Terabithia, by Katherine Paterson, which is a book I loved. I couldn’t remember anything terrible about it.

  I shoved the list into my jacket pocket as I entered the children’s room. A lot of kids were there already, and Ms. Feld and Miss Ellway both looked busy. Ms. Feld was simultaneously talking on the phone, repairing a ripped book jacket, and checking out a stack of cassettes for a harried-looking mother with a baby in her arms. Miss Ellway was at the checkout desk, where a line of four or five kids, including Sarah Hill and Byron Pike, waited to take out books. “Oh, Mary Anne,” she said. “I’m glad to see you. These two boys here need some help finding books.” She pointed at Nicky (who had apparently come with his brother that day) and another boy I didn’t recognize. “I haven’t had a moment to help them.” She smiled at me, and suddenly I felt bad about judging her as quickly as I had. Maybe she just needed a little more time to warm up to people. She certainly seemed friendlier all of a sudden.

  I smiled at her. “Okay,” I said. I led the boys into the other room. Kristy was there, working with Rosie, but I just waved to her, since I knew we’d be abl
e to talk later. I got right down to work. The boy I didn’t recognize turned out to be named Matthew Bailey, and it was easy to find the book he wanted. Nicky was a different story. He didn’t seem to have his mind on the Readathon. Instead of looking for books, he glanced longingly at the puppet theatre, where Sean and some other boys were playing.

  “Nicky, are you sure you want to be in the Readathon?” I asked him, as I looked over his registration sheet. “You have a lot of sponsors signed up so far, but you’ve only read that one book about robots.”

  “I know,” mumbled Nicky. “I just don’t like any of the other books here. I had fun finding people who wanted to sponsor me, but reading is a pain. I’d rather spend my time playing — or solving the mystery about the fires.”

  As much as Nicky wanted to help with detective work, I knew he was supposed to be spending his library time on the Readathon. I decided to ignore his comment. “I’m sure we can find a few good books here,” I said gently. I gestured at the shelves. “There must be something you like to read about.”

  “I like monsters,” said Nicky, looking down at his shoes. “But I bet they don’t have any good monster books here.”

  “Oh, yeah? How much do you want to bet? A hundred dollars? A thousand? A gazillion?”

  Nicky grinned. “How about just a nickel?” he asked, pushing his hand into the pocket of his jeans. “That’s all I have.”

  “No, I’m not going to bet you anything,” I said. “It wouldn’t be fair, because I happen to know that this library has at least five great monster books.”

  “Really?” Nicky threw me a skeptical look.

  “Really. Come on, I’ll show you.” I led him to the card catalog and showed him how to look up “Monsters.” We wrote down the numbers of three of the books, and we were just checking the fourth when — the fire alarm went off.

  “Not again!” I said.

  “I didn’t do it!” said Nicky quickly. “I was right here with you, the whole time.”

  “I know. Now let’s get going. Can you head over to the door and line up with the other kids?” I gave him a nudge. “I’ll be right there.” I wanted to check all the nooks and crannies of the children’s room to make sure no kids were left behind when we went outside. I saw Kristy taking Rosie to the line by the door, and we exchanged worried glances. Once again, I could smell smoke in the air. This was getting ridiculous, not to mention scary.