The Secret of Willow Lane Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  THE SECRET OF WILLOW LANE

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Secret of Willow Lane

  By Virginia Rose Richter

  Copyright 2012 Virginia Rose Richter

  Cover Copyright 2012 Virginia Rose Richter and Untreed Reads Publishing

  The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

  Previously published in print, 2012.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  http://www.untreedreads.com

  THE SECRET OF WILLOW LANE

  A Mystery

  Virginia Rose Richter

  Children are made readers

  on the laps

  of their parents.

  Emilie Buchwald

  *

  Dedicated to my Grandmother,

  Anna Rasmussen Smith, a lover of books who taught me how to read.

  The Willow Lane Mysteries take place in the 1980s.

  CHAPTER ONE

  It all began with a beam of light flashing from Mr. Johnson’s attic window. That was the same day the detective kit arrived.

  Jessie Hanson was reading under a shade tree, trying to stay cool, when the rumble of a truck’s engine brought her to her feet. That’s when she saw the flashes. Regular glints of light shot out from the Johnson house across Willow Lane.

  It’s like a code, she thought. Hold on. Nobody should be in that house. Old Mr. C.G. Johnson fell down the steps and died there last spring. Daddy’ll know. He’s the lawyer taking care of Mr. Johnson’s estate.

  A UPS truck turned into her driveway.

  “Finally!” She threw down her book. “My detective kit!”

  The brown-uniformed driver hopped to the pavement and rushed up the porch steps. He set a big box by the front door, rang the doorbell, hurried back to the truck and drove off.

  Jessie started to run. Her long braid flew out behind her. She felt the sun, warm on her back. She glanced up. Soft clouds, like giant sailboats, cruised through the blue Nebraska sky. In the distance, cattle grazed idly in the August heat.

  In seconds, she was over the lawn and onto the sidewalk. She grabbed the post of the handrail and leaped up two steps at a time, barely missing one of the red geraniums planted in shiny black pots that bordered the stairs.

  I hope I hope it’s my lucky day. She stooped to read the label on the box. Yep! It’s addressed to me and it’s from the Chase Novelty Company in New York. It’s here! I’ll call Tina.

  Jessie wrapped both arms around the box, hooked a finger through the screen door handle and pulled. With one foot, she propped open the door and eased the package into the front hall.

  “Jessie?” her mother called from the kitchen. “Who rang the doorbell?”

  “I got it,” Jessie hollered. She picked up the phone, dialed and tapped her foot while she waited for someone to answer.

  “Hello?” said Tina in her grown-up telephone voice.

  “Tina! It came! How soon can you get here?” asked Jessie.

  “What came? Oh the detective stuff? Great!” said Tina.

  “Yes! Yes! Finally!” cried Jessie. “All that babysitting to get the money. I was starting to feel like Phillip’s mother!”

  “We’re going to have dinner,” said Tina. I’ll come over as soon as we’re finished.”

  “Well hurry!” Jessie hung up with a groan. I’d faint if Tina every moved fast. “MOM!” She struggled to get a grip on the box.

  “What are you shouting about?” Her mother came into the hall from the kitchen. “What’s that? Oh is it your kit?” She plopped down into a chair next to the phone table and fanned her face with a dishtowel. The tiny breeze ruffled her dark hair that curled naturally on humid days.

  “Yes!” said Jessie. “Boy, Phillip better keep his little paws off this!”

  “Why don’t you do us all a favor and keep the box out of his reach?” Her mother wiped perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand.

  “Don’t you think it’s time Phillip learned some self-discipline? That would really be doing us all a favor.”

  Her mother laughed. “Eighteen months is a bit young for self-discipline. I’d settle for Phillip just feeding himself.”

  Jessie trudged up the staircase with her package.

  “You baby him, Mom.”

  “Ah, yes, Jessie dear. An eleven-year-old child psychologist is just what I need.” Mrs. Hanson stood and headed for the kitchen. “He’s suspiciously quiet.”

  Parents, thought Jessie. They only listen to themselves. She pushed the box into her room, sank to the floor and began to pry open the parcel. I hope it’s all here. The tape on the box wouldn’t budge. She stood up and rifled through her desk drawer for something sharp.

  When she uncovered the old ad from the Chase Novelty Company, Jessie flopped onto her bed and read it for the hundredth time.

  LEARN TO BE A DETECTIVE

  Send for our detective starter kit today.

  It contains everything you will need to

  become a Private Eye. Included in this offer

  are the following items: fingerprinting

  material; instructions for making listening

  devices; casting components for creating

  footprint impressions; camera with telephoto

  lens (film included); And much more!

  Detailed instructions come with a custom

  fitted carrying case for easy transport to the

  Crime Scene!

  Send your name and address plus $50.00 and

  $10.95 for Shipping and Handling to: Chase

  Novelty Company; Box 433; New York, NY

  10107. (Please allow eight weeks

  for delivery)

  Jessie lay thinking. Her eyes traveled over her room papered in blue and white striped wallpaper. The bookshelves above her desk held her most precious possessions. There was the little picture of Jessie and her parents when she was a baby. Another framed snapshot showed Jessie and Tina clowning for the camera the last day of second grade. There was the pink cut glass perfume bottle her mom brought her from a trip to Chicago. Phillip’s one-year-old portrait sat in the center of the middle shelf. On the top were all her favorite books, mostly mysteries. She studied all the pictures. She was the only blonde in the family. Mom and Daddy and Phillip all had brown curly hair and were tall. Sometimes she wondered if she was even related to them.

  At the end of the room, a big bow window with a blue cushioned seat looked out over Willow Lane.

  A silver dolphin mobile dangled from the ceiling above her bed, motionless now in the still summer air. She stretched up h
er arm and gave it a whirl. I’ll wait for Tina. We’ll open the box together.

  Outside, a car door slammed. Daddy’s home. She raced down the stairs in time to hold open the screen door.

  “Such service! What did I do to deserve this?” He reached out and gave a friendly tug to her braid.

  She thought he looked tired. His tan trousers and blue shirt were rumpled. He held his suit coat and necktie draped over his arm. It didn’t matter though because Jessie thought he was the most handsome dad in town. She threw her arms around his waist. “Daddy, my detective stuff came! I’m so excited. Wait ’til you see!” she let go of him and hopped up and down.

  “No kidding? It finally got here? Let’s…”

  Phillip tore into the hallway. He held up his chubby arms. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…” chanted the toddler.

  Mr. Hanson picked up the child and raised him high over his head. “Phillip!” he said with a grin. “How’s my boy?”

  Phillip squealed with joy.

  “Daddy,” interrupted Jessie. “I was trying to tell you something.” Behind her father’s back, Jessie looked up at Phillip and stuck out her tongue.

  The baby stopped giggling and stared at her. He tried to stick out his own tongue.

  He’s just like a monkey in the zoo, she thought.

  “You’re right, Jess,” said her dad. He lowered Phillip to his feet. “Now tell me when I get to see this Wonder Kit that you’ve worked for all summer.”

  Phillip attached himself to his father’s leg and dragged along behind singing, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

  Jessie raised her voice above the chatter. “I guess I’ll wait ’til Tina gets here. We’ll show you then.”

  In the kitchen, her dad gave her mother a kiss. “You look beat. I’m afraid to ask about your day.”

  Her mom gave a weary nod and said nothing. Phillip wrapped his free arm around his mother’s leg so he had both parents entrapped. It was his favorite position. He beamed up at them.

  Jessie stooped down, disengaged her brother and swung him up into his highchair.

  “NO! NO!” he shouted.

  “Thanks, Jess,” said her mother. “Look, Carl, we can walk again.”

  Jessie kissed the top of the baby’s head as she tied his bib. “Time to eat. You’re cute even if you are a pain.”

  Phillip grabbed at her braid.

  Jessie pulled back just in time. “Hah! Missed!”

  Phillip stuck out his tongue like a pro.

  “Oh no!” said her mother. “Did you see that, Carl?”

  “Great!” said her dad. “Where’d he learn that?”

  “Maybe if we ignore it, he’ll stop,” said her mom.

  Jessie sat down at the table and said nothing. Boy he learns fast, she thought. I’m not confessing to this one. I’d never hear the end of it.

  After dinner, Jessie ran to her room and watched for Tina from her window. Finally she spotted her friend riding her bike carefully up Willow Lane.

  Honestly, what a slowpoke. She undid the screen hook, leaned out the window and yelled, “Hurry up, Tina.”

  As she drew her head back and unhooked the screen, a spark of light blinded her for a moment. She stood motionless and watched as the light beams darted from the third floor attic window of the Johnson house. What’s going on over there? Her heart started to beat fast. Someone was sending a signal! When the doorbell rang, she jumped.

  “Hi, Mrs. Hanson.” It was Tina. “I’m here to see the detective stuff.”

  “She’s upstairs, Tina,” said Mrs. Hanson. “Come on in. Are you ready for school?”

  “We’re getting there,” said Tina. “Mom’s taking me shopping for clothes on Saturday.”

  Jessie ran to the top of the staircase. Her mom had her back to her. Urgently, Jessie beckoned for Tina to hurry. Tina glanced up, gracefully ended the conversation and started for the steps.

  When Tina reached her bedroom, Jessie pulled her across the threshold and closed the door behind them. “Brace yourself,” she whispered. “It looks like the detective kit came just in time. We have a mystery on our hands.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Later that same evening, Jessie’s father carried his newspaper into the living room and sat on the sofa next to her. She leaned against his shoulder, still reading her book.

  He unfolded the paper. “What happened to Tina?”

  “Oh, you know her mom. As soon as it even looked like rain, Tina had to run right home.”

  “Probably right. It looks like it’s going to pour.” He began to read.

  “Mrs. Adams is too fussy. We’d just opened the box and Tina had to leave.” Jessie set down her book. “Daddy…”

  “Hmmm?”

  “What’s going on at the Johnson house?” She tried to sound casual. “Is someone living there?”

  “Better not be. It’s locked up.” He folded back a page of his paper. “Except for Mr. and Mrs. Simms. He does the yard work and she cleans up the house once a week.” He lowered the paper and looked at her. “Why?”

  “Oh, just wondering,” Jessie said. “I was thinking about Mr. Johnson. He was such a good friend. He taught me how to skate. Every time I’d fall down, there he’d be to pick me up.”

  “You know, he taught me to skate too,” said her dad. “And how to ride a bike.” He folded his paper and laid it down. “My dad was gone a lot when I was growing up. C.G. filled in for him. Then, when my folks died, he really came to the rescue. He gave me moral support and financial help. I miss him every day.”

  “So what will happen to his house and stuff?” asked Jessie.

  “It all goes to some relative in the East unless I find a Will,” said her dad. “That’s what’s bothering me. I figure C.G. was too good a businessman to not leave a Will.”

  “Oh, you mean where it says who gets the money?”

  “Not just money. His home and farms too.”

  “Maybe he hid the Will in his house,” Jessie said.

  “Oh boy, that’s a big house. Lots of hiding places. I wouldn’t know where to begin to look,” said her dad.

  “What’s up in that attic window?” she asked.

  “On the third floor? C.G. used it as his office,” he said. “You should see that place! Beautiful, actually.”

  “Daddy,” she said, snuggling close. “Tell me again about his wife, Alice. You know. How Mr. Johnson met Alice.”

  Her dad settled back against the cushions and put his arm around Jessie. “Well, one summer day around 1929, Mr. Johnson was attending a band concert in the Town Square. Someone introduced him to Miss Alice Jorgenson.”

  “Did she live in Fairfield?” Jessie asked.

  “Nope. She was visiting from the East. Wisconsin, I think. C.G. Johnson’s family had plenty of money from wheat farming. They say he was good looking too. He was about thirty years old that summer and still a bachelor. The minute he laid eyes on Alice, he told everyone he was going to marry her.”

  “She must have been gorgeous,” said Jessie.

  “I think she was about nineteen, just finished with her freshman year of college. People say she was a beautiful blue-eyed blonde,” said her dad. “All the boys in Fairfield followed her around, but she liked C.G. even though he was older. Anyway, C.G. took her out all summer and the following year they were married.”

  “So, he got what he wanted, didn’t he?” said Jessie.

  Her dad laughed. “He sure did! And so did she! For a wedding present to his bride, C.G. built the house across the street.” He gave Jessie a squeeze. “Nice, huh?”

  “Now tell the sad part. About the baby,” said Jessie. She was beginning to get sleepy. She could hear Phillip running upstairs in the hallway, squealing and laughing.

  “Let’s see. I think they were married twenty years when they surprised everyone and announced they were expecting their first child,” continued her father. “It probably shocked the Johnsons too, after all those years. That happens sometimes.”

  “Anyway, I
guess everything went wrong. The baby was born at home because of a terrible January blizzard. They just couldn’t get through the snow to the hospital. It’s said that Alice and the baby both died and C.G. became an old man overnight. I guess he never got over his loss.”

  “Did you know Alice?” asked Jessie.

  “No, Sweetie. She died in 1950, the year I was born.”

  “Did you ever see a picture of her?”

  “That’s a funny thing,” he said. “I’ve been in C.G.’s house many times, but I’ve never seen a picture of Alice. Or a picture of anyone for that matter. I’ve just heard about their romance from people around town.”

  “I sure would like to see a picture of her,” said Jessie. “So what will you do next? About the Will, I mean?”

  “Just keep searching. Time’s running out though. We’re going to have to settle the estate soon. Right after they auction off the furniture in the house.”

  Jessie yawned. “No wonder you’re worried.”

  “Since you’re interested in Mr. Johnson, you should take a look at the books he gave me a few years ago,” said her father. “There’s and old leather-bound Bible and an atlas. They’re in my office downtown. Check them out next time you’re there, Jess. I think…”

  A big red beach ball thumped down the hall stairs. Jessie and her dad watched it bounce from step to step, still thinking about the Johnson Family. They looked up and began to laugh at the shiny wet and naked baby crowing with glee behind the safety gate at the top of the staircase.

  Jessie leaped to her feet and headed for the stairs. “I’m going to get you, Phillip!” She ran up the steps, opened the gate and grabbed a towel from the floor of the hall landing. When she caught the slippery toddler, she wrapped the towel around him. Jessie sat on the floor with Phillip in her lap. She buried her face in his sweet brown curls, damp from the bath, and whispered into his ear, “I love you, baby Phillip.”

  * * *

  Late that night when it was quiet, Jessie couldn’t sleep. She slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the window. The storm had come and gone. Mr. Johnson’s house glowed in the moonlight. Tall weeping willows swayed in the breeze. In the side yard, giant oaks seemed to raise protective arms around the fine old home.