Free Mystery of the Runaway Ghost by Gertrude Chandler Warner

they were on to her when Jessie asked if it was hard making that kind of switch.
    Benny frowned. “Your plan almost worked, too.”
    Lottie looked at Benny and nodded. “I hadn’t counted on the Aldens being such good detectives.”
    “What about the photograph of Homer?” Violet asked. “Did you take it?”
    “Yes.” Lottie reached into her purse and took out the old photograph. “This looks a lot like one of Homer’s other paintings. I was afraid somebody might see this and figure it out.”
    Cora nodded. “And that’s why you were so quick to agree with me about that magazine article,” she guessed. “You didn’t want The Runaway Ghost painting to get any publicity.”
    Henry had something to add. “You even tried to convince us the mystery riddle was just a silly parlor game,” he said.
    Lottie nodded. “I knew there was a treasure hanging right there, above the fireplace. I didn’t want anyone to find out.”
    Fran hadn’t said a word while Lottie had been telling her story. Now she spoke up, her face pained. “I know it isn’t easy putting yourself through school, Lottie. But that doesn’t make it okay to steal.” She looked as if she really couldn’t believe what Lottie had done.
    Lottie twisted her hands in her lap. “I really didn’t want to steal from you, Fran. You’ve always been so kind to me.” Her voice wavered. “I know you won’t believe this, but I was about to put the painting back when you came through the door.”
    “Then why did you try to make a run for it?” Nelson sounded doubtful.
    “I panicked.” Lottie threw her hands up.
    “Lottie was still sitting here in the dark,” Violet was quick to point out.
    Fran thought about this for a moment. “Yes, I suppose you could have been long gone, Lottie,” she said at last. “You deserve the benefit of the doubt, so I’m not going to call the police. I don’t believe you had your heart in being a thief.”
    Lottie’s face crumbled. “I’m so sorry I betrayed your trust, Fran.”
    “If you mean that,” replied Fran, “then you’ll learn from your mistakes, and you’ll never do anything like this again.”
    Looking truly regretful, Lottie walked slowly from the room and out of the house.
    “I guess it was Lottie ringing that cowbell in the night,” concluded Benny. “But why?”
    Fran raised an eyebrow. “Cowbell?”
    Reese’s face turned red. “No, that was my idea.”
    “It was your idea to scare us?” Benny looked upset.
    Reese looked over at the Aldens sheepishly. “I wanted everyone to think the runaway ghost had come back. I got one of the old cowbells from my mother’s antique store, and I rang it in the middle of the night.”
    “But why?” Cora asked, looking confused. “Why would you do such a thing, Reese?”
    Violet thought she knew the answer. “You wanted your mother to include Buttercup in her article, right?”
    Nodding, Reese hung her head and stared at the floor. “I thought they would if … if everyone was suddenly talking about the runaway ghost.”
    Cora put an arm around her daughter. “I know you were just trying to help Fran, Reese,” she said. “But that wasn’t the way to do it.”
    “I’m sorry if I frightened you, Benny,” Reese apologized.
    “Oh, I knew it wasn’t a real ghost,” said Benny. “Right, Henry?”
    “Right, Benny,” Henry answered, hiding a smile.
    It wasn’t long before everyone was sipping lemonade and munching on chocolate cake. Nelson smiled as he looked over at Winslow Homer’s painting, hanging above the fireplace once again.
    “It really is a remarkable work of art,” he commented.
    Fran seemed surprised to hear this. “But … you always wanted me to put something a little more modern up there, Nelson. Something with more pizzazz, remember?”
    “Yes, it seems to me I did say that,” Nelson recalled, laughing a little. “On more than one occasion.”
    “Just imagine,” said Cora. “We’re looking at an original Winslow