Boxcar Children 54 - Hurricane Mystery (5 page)

The intruder had hit one of the hinges where the gate had hung. When Mr. Farrier had fixed it, it had looked shiny and new. Now it was scratched and dented.

“Why would anyone do that?” Henry wondered aloud. He bent forward to inspect the damaged hinge. “It’s not bad,” he said at last. “Mostly scratched. You could still hang the gate on it.”

“Oh, good,” said Benny.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Henry concluded. “Why would anyone vandalize Mrs. Ashleigh’s fence?”

“Maybe it’s her son, trying to scare her into moving,” said Jessie slowly. “And maybe he
is
the one who snuck in to steal the papers. Too bad we didn’t get a better look at him.”

“See?” said Benny. “Mr. Ashleigh
is
a mean man.”

“We don’t know
who
it was, Benny,” Violet reminded her younger brother. “It looked like the man from this afternoon.”

“Or woman,” said Jessie, thinking of Diana. “We just don’t know.”

“Maybe Diana and Forrest Ashleigh are working together,” said Henry. “After all, she lives nearby. It would be easy for her to get to Mrs. Ashleigh’s house without being noticed. All we know is that it was the person in the raincoat.”

“And whoever it was knows his way around. That’s one of the reasons he got away,” said Henry.

The four children looked at each other.

The clues were beginning to add up. But they still weren’t sure why all these mysterious things had happened. That was the biggest mystery of all.

“I’m going to Charleston to see about the gate and to take care of some business,” said Mrs. Ashleigh a couple of days later, coming out onto the front porch.

The Aldens had finished repairing the porch and had even added new steps to replace the stump. Now they were painting. “I don’t suppose anybody would like to come with me,” Mrs. Ashleigh went on.

“Me!” said Benny, dropping his paintbrush.

“I think we’d all like to go visit Mr. Farrier’s studio,” said Jessie.

The Aldens changed out of their porch-painting clothes, and soon they were on their way to Charleston.

Many people were still working to clean up after the hurricane. “We can’t waste time here,” said Mrs. Ashleigh with a rueful smile. “You never know when the next hurricane will hit.”

Mr. Farrier’s shop was a low brick building not far from the Hoofbeats of History carriage tours stable. Inside, they found Mr. Farrier hard at work hammering a piece of red-hot iron into a curved shape. He wore a hat and safety goggles and gloves. The hammer rang against the hot metal with a dull clang, clang sound. Sometimes sparks flew up when the hammer hit the iron.

When he’d finished shaping the iron, he dipped it into a nearby bucket of water to cool it off, then put it down carefully. He pushed back his safety goggles, took off his gloves, and came over to shake hands.

“Mrs. Ashleigh. I’m glad to see you. I need to talk to you about that gate,” said Mr. Farrier.

“Can’t it be fixed?” asked Mrs. Ashleigh in a worried voice.

“Oh, yes, it can be fixed. But . . .” He stopped and looked around at the four children. “Anyway, if I could have a word with you in private.”

Mrs. Ashleigh said, “Of course. But I have an appointment at the bank right now.”

“Could we stay and watch Mr. Farrier work?” asked Jessie. “Just for a little while.”

“If it’s all right with Mr. Farrier. Then you can walk down to the bank to meet me.”

Mr. Farrier nodded. “You’re welcome to stay for a little while, and I can give you directions to the bank,” he said. “Just don’t get too close to the fire or the hot metal. You’ll have to sit over there.” He pointed to an iron bench along one brick wall.

The Aldens readily agreed.

As Mr. Farrier worked, he told the children about how he had learned his skill from his father, who had learned it from his father before him. “My great-great-great-grandfather was a slave,” said Mr. Farrier matter-of-factly. “But he was so good at making wrought-iron and cast-iron designs for fences and balconies that he was able to buy his freedom with the money he made. He set up his own shop and soon had more business than he could handle. You can still see some of his work around town today. It’s famous and very valuable.”

Mr. Farrier poured molten iron into hollow molds shaped like rosettes and stars. “The same as putting cake batter into a cake pan,” he explained. “I have molds in all different sizes and shapes. When the iron cools, it hardens and I remove the mold. Then I’ll have an iron decoration shaped like the mold. That’s called cast iron, and it can be hollow or solid.”

He pointed to the bench they were sitting on. “That’s cast iron. I make molds of different sections and weld them together. But the bench also has some wrought iron, which is shaped by hand.”

“What is the Pirate’s Gate?” asked Henry.

Mr. Farrier gave Henry a sharp look. “Not much of the Pirate’s Gate was made with molds — it’s mostly wrought iron. You kids really are interested in that gate, aren’t you?”

As he worked, Mr. Farrier asked the Aldens what they knew about the Pirate’s Gate. He seemed very uneasy and kept checking the back door of the studio to make sure it was locked.

“What are you making?” asked Benny.

“Window grills,” said Mr. Farrier. “You put them in front of windows and people can’t break in.”

“Who are they for?” asked Jessie.

“Me,” said Mr. Farrier. He jerked his head toward the windows of his shop. Seeing their surprised looks, he said, “Someone tried to break in last night. He got scared away, but better safe than sorry.”

“It would be hard to steal your ironwork,” said Violet. “It’s so heavy.”

Mr. Farrier shrugged.

“I guess we’d better go meet Mrs. Ashleigh,” said Jessie. “Thank you, Mr. Farrier.”

“You’re welcome,” said Mr. Farrier. He gave them directions to the bank and the Aldens left.

They’d almost reached the bank when Jessie grabbed Henry’s arm. “Look,” she said. “It’s him!”

U
p ahead, Forrest Ashleigh, Mrs. Ashleigh’s son, had just come out of the bank. He looked like a banker himself in his dark suit and tie.

But it wasn’t Mr. Ashleigh that Jessie was pointing toward. It was the person in the gray raincoat. He — or she — was in the shadows, leaning against the side of a building. The person raised a hand and signaled Mr. Ashleigh to come over. Mr. Ashleigh looked around, scowled, and then walked toward the stranger.

“We have to get closer,” said Henry. “We have to see who that is.”

Trying to act as if nothing were wrong, the four children walked casually toward the bank.

“Don’t stare, Benny,” said Jessie. “It looks suspicious.”

“I’m not,” said Benny, keeping his gaze fastened on Mr. Ashleigh and the stranger.

“So Mr. Ashleigh knows the stranger,” said Jessie. “Hmm. Very interesting.”

“Very suspicious, if you ask me,” said Henry.

Violet said, “I don’t think Mr. Ashleigh
ever
smiles. He is always frowning when we see him.”

Mr. Ashleigh shook his head. He folded his arms. The stranger pointed toward the bank. Mr. Ashleigh shook his head again.

Just then a voice said, “Henry! Jessie! Violet! Benny! Over here!” Mrs. Ashleigh came down the steps of the bank toward the Aldens.

As she did, the stranger turned and ducked quickly down the alley by the building. Mr. Ashleigh looked over his shoulder at his mother.

She saw him and waved. “Forrest! Come over here. I want you to meet someone.”

Grudgingly, her son came over to join them. “Forrest works in this bank,” she said. “He’s vice president!”

Forrest Ashleigh shook hands with each of the Aldens and said hello. “I hear you’ve been helping my mother with Hurricane Heap,” he said.

“Hurricane Heap?” asked Violet.

Forrest smiled unexpectedly at Violet. When he did, he looked a lot like his mother. And a lot nicer than he had seemed earlier. At least, that’s what Violet thought.

“It’s what I call the old house. Oh, it’s a nice old house and I love it. But sooner or later it’s going to blow away in a hurricane and then what will be left?”

“It’s been around a lot longer than you or I have,” said Mrs. Ashleigh.

Forrest looked as if he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “Well, nice to meet you. Thanks for helping Mother with Hurricane Heap. I just hope another hurricane doesn’t come along and blow you away before you finish cleaning up the mess from this one!”

Henry cleared his throat. “Mr. Ashleigh? Who were you talking to just then?”

Forrest Ashleigh paused. He frowned again. Suddenly he didn’t look so friendly. “Nobody,” he said, after a long moment. “That is, nobody I knew. It was just someone who asked me the time.”

Still frowning, he turned on his heel and left.

The Aldens painted the railings of the porch all afternoon. As they painted, they talked about the mystery.

“I think someone is definitely after the pirate’s treasure,” Benny insisted. “The gold that Mr. Ashleigh buried.
Not
Mrs. Ashleigh’s son,” he added. “Mr. Ashleigh the pirate.”

“I think so, too,” said Jessie. “This all started when we were helping Mrs. Ashleigh go through those boxes of papers for the museum.”

“But there is no map in the papers,” said Henry. “We have been all through them. There is nothing that looks like a treasure map.”

“Maybe there’s some other clue,” said Violet. “A clue that leads to the map. Or the treasure.”

“Maybe the map is drawn in invisible ink!” said Benny.

“Maybe, Benny,” said Jessie. “But I don’t think so.”

“As soon as we finish painting, we’ll go through the papers again,” said Henry. “Maybe we will see a clue that we missed.”

They had just finished painting for the day when Mr. Farrier’s red truck pulled up in front of the house. “Hello,” he said. “I finished repairing the gate and brought it back. Is Mrs. Ashleigh here?”

“No,” said Violet. “But she will be back soon. She just went to the post office and the grocery store.”

Mr. Farrier didn’t look happy when he heard that.

“You could hang the gate while you wait,” suggested Henry. “We can help you.”

Shaking his head, Mr. Farrier said, “No. I think I’ll put the gate around back.” He hoisted the gate out of the truck and put it on a hand truck. Then he wheeled it around to the back of the house.

“What happened here?” he called a few minutes later. He stopped at the fence where the gate had hung and pointed at the hinge.

“Someone came in the night and vandalized the fence,” Jessie explained. To her surprise, Mr. Farrier didn’t seem at all shocked.

He took his glasses off and polished them on his shirtsleeve. “Hmmm,” he said. “Interesting. Well, I can fix that hinge in no time.”

The blacksmith was as good as his word. In no time at all, the hinge was like new. “But don’t hang that gate up until I talk to Mrs. Ashleigh. Don’t even touch it,” he warned. He looked at his watch. “I can’t wait any longer. Please tell her to call me as soon as possible. It’s urgent!” He got into his truck, slammed the door, and drove away.

“Mr. Farrier is acting
weird
,” said Jessie.

“Yes,” said Violet. “As if he thinks we’ll hurt the Pirate’s Gate. But why would we do that?”

“Did you notice that he wasn’t at all surprised when we told him about the vandal?” Jessie asked.

Henry nodded. “I noticed that, too. You don’t think Mr. Farrier did it, do you?”

“Why would he do that? He just had to fix it again,” said Benny.

Jessie said slowly, “Maybe we are wrong. Maybe the mystery didn’t start when we began to go through those old papers. Maybe the mystery started
before
that.”

“What do you mean, Jessie?” asked Violet.

“I mean, maybe the mystery started when we solved that first mystery — when we found the Pirate’s Gate,” she answered. “Come on. I think it’s time we looked at those papers again.”

The Boxcar Children cleaned the paintbrushes and put everything away. Then they washed up and went back to the study.

“What are we looking for?” Henry asked Jessie.

“I’m not sure,” said Jessie. “But someone really wants the Pirate’s Gate. Maybe there’s something in these papers that will tell us why.”