Free Tattletale Mystery by Gertrude Chandler Warner Page A

became aware of everyone watching her.
    “It all adds up,” Henry went on. “You were at our house the day the paper airplane flew into our yard.”
    “And you were at the art show, too,” Benny realized.
    Jessie was thinking hard. “You even made a comment about Jem. You said he was acting as if there were something in it for him. You were trying to give us a hint, weren’t you, Mrs. Turner?”
    The waitress still said nothing.
    “You gave us another hint, too,” recalled Violet, “when you pointed to the pigeon on Josiah Wade’s head. You were trying to draw our attention to the minuteman statue, weren’t you?”
    After a long silence, Mrs. Turner finally spoke. “I knew you kids were real pros, but I wasn’t counting on this,” she said with a sigh. “I had no idea you’d figure out I was the Tattletale.”
    “Oh!” Mrs. Spencer cried out in surprise, putting her hands to her mouth. And the others looked just as astonished.
    Mrs. Turner began speaking quietly. “Milly used to stop by the drugstore for a cup of coffee. We’d always have such nice chats. She knew everything there was to know about the history of art. She especially loved talking about Leonardo da Vinci. It was fascinating just to listen to her.” Mrs. Turner stopped to tighten the lid on the saltshaker. “Milly told me how a snapdragon in a pansy bed made her realize that anything’s possible in life. She even drew a sketch of a snapdragon for me. I kept it just to remind me of what Milly had said — that anything’s possible.”
    “But then you wrote a message on the back of the sketch,” guessed Violet, “and you folded it into a paper airplane. Right?”
    “Right.” Mrs. Turner nodded. “I was planning to leave the message somewhere in the house that day. But you kids were flying paper airplanes in the backyard. On a whim, I sent the message to you like that.” The waitress looked over at Mrs. Spencer. “I’m afraid it’s true. I planted the snapdragon in your garden when you were out one day. I sent the coded message in the mail. And I tucked that bookmark inside your book one afternoon in the park.” She sighed deeply. “The bookmark was one Milly made for me on my birthday.”
    “Then you wanted it to look like Milly was doing all these things?” Mrs. Spencer asked, disbelieving.
    Nodding, Mrs. Turner lowered her eyes. “I didn’t want anyone to suspect I was the Tattletale. And yet ... I had to let somebody know about Jem and Margaret. So what else could I do?” She didn’t look as if she expected an answer.
    “How did you know what they were up to?” asked Rachel.
    “They were in here planning the whole thing over lunch. I heard every word. But I really didn’t think they’d go through with it. Later, I found out Margaret had won the art contest and I knew they’d carried out their plan.”
    After a moment’s stunned silence, Edmund said, “Why didn’t you just tell someone about it? Why all the elaborate clues?”
    “When you’re a waitress, you overhear things,” Mrs. Turner confided. “You really can’t help it, you know. I think my customers forget I have ears.” She paused for a moment. “When I first started working here, I didn’t know how to hold my tongue. I’m afraid I had a reputation for being a gossip.”
    The children looked surprised to hear this.
    Mrs. Turner went on, “It wasn’t long before my customers were calling me Turner the Tattletale. Oh, it took me years to live that down! After that, I promised myself that never again would I repeat something I overheard.”
    The Aldens nodded as they began to understand. Nobody liked being called names.
    Benny looked puzzled. “But, Mrs. Turner, why did you use that name when you signed the messages? If you didn’t like being called a tattletale, I mean.”
    “I was telling secrets about people again, Benny.” A sad smile crossed Mrs. Turner’s face. “The name just seemed to fit.”
    “But you couldn’t just stand by