Free Rock 'n' Roll Mystery by Gertrude Chandler Warner

CHAPTER 1
The Greenfield Music Festival
    â€œBenny, are you playing with that again?”
    Twelve-year-old Jessie Alden stood watching her six-year-old brother. Benny held a ukulele—a very small guitar with four strings. His fingers were struggling to get some sound out of it.
    â€œI can’t seem to make it…work,” he said, a little frustrated.
    He and Jessie were inside a large white tent—one of dozens that had been set up on the fairgrounds at the edge of town. The Greenfield Music Festival drew a huge crowd every year. More than twenty different groups would be performing this year, playing jazz, blues, classical, and rock ’n’ roll. The Alden children loved the festival—and this year they’d gotten a chance to be volunteer workers there!
    Henry, who at fourteen was the oldest, was helping out in the stage area. Ten-year-old Violet, who was a very good artist, was painting signs. And Jessie and Benny were busy setting up “The Instrument Petting Zoo.” It was a special tent run by Mr. Lessenger, who owned a music store in Greenfield, and it was one of the most popular features of the festival. Children could try all types of musical instruments—guitars, violins, drums, horns, and flutes.
    Benny shook his head and laughed. “I’m never going to be able to play this!”
    â€œYou can if you practice,” Mr. Lessenger replied. He was a cheerful older man with white hair and glasses, and he loved helping children discover the joys of music.
    â€œIt takes time, Benny,” he continued. “Don’t be discouraged. The greatest musicians in the world couldn’t play a note when they started.”
    â€œReally?” Benny asked. That made him feel better.
    Most of the instruments were set neatly on their stands, and their cases were stacked in the corner, out of the way. “Looks like you’ve made some good progress since I was last here,” said Mr. Lessenger.
    â€œWe’re just about finished,” Jessie replied. “We just need to make sure everything’s in tune.”
    Mr. Lessenger nodded. “That’s great, Jessie. Thanks so much for all your help. And I hope you’re having fun playing the instruments. I see Benny on the ukulele over there, but what about you? Have you tried anything?”
    â€œNo, not yet,” Jessie answered. “But I’m thinking about the piano. I like the sound of pianos very much.”
    Mr. Lessenger nodded. “That one over there was built over fifty years ago, so it sounds great.”
    Jessie seemed puzzled by this. “I don’t understand. Doesn’t it sound worse as it gets older? Doesn’t it wear out?”
    â€œOh, no,” Mr. Lessenger replied with a smile. “Many instruments get better with age. They’ve been played so much that everything gets sort of ‘broken in.’ I have customers who will pay a lot for older instruments, and custom instruments, too.”
    â€œWhat does ‘custom’ mean?” Jessie asked as Benny continued plinking and plunking in the background.
    â€œIt means it was made just for one person. Many musicians don’t buy their instruments in an ordinary store. They order them specially made from scratch.”
    â€œWow, making instruments—that sounds interesting,” Jessie said.
    â€œIt is,” Mr. Lessenger went on. “Custom-made instruments are often more beautiful—and sound much better—than instruments made in factories. Some of the best instruments I've ever had in my store were either very old or custom-made.”
    Another person joined them in the tent. He was a young man with messy black hair. Mr. Lessenger had introduced him earlier in the morning—his name was Tim, and he worked at Mr. Lessenger’s store.
    â€œI’m all done,” Tim said. “There’s nothing else to unload from the truck, so I’ll head back to the store