Mystery of the Secret Message by Charles Tang

CHAPTER 1
The Mysterious Photograph
    A pple or pumpkin?” Jessie Alden asked her little brother as they sat in Cooke’s Drugstore reading the menu.
    Six-year-old Benny squeezed his eyes shut. It was hard to choose. He liked both kinds of pie. In fact, he liked all kinds of pie!
    “Mrs. McGregor made us a pumpkin pie last week,” he said, opening his eyes. “So . . . apple!”
    “Good choice, Benny,” agreed Grandfather Alden. “I’ll also have apple pie.”
    “Me, too,” echoed ten-year-old Violet in her soft voice.
    ‘I’ll have the same,” Jessie said briskly. An orderly twelve-year-old, she rarely had trouble making up her mind. “What about you, Henry?”
    At fourteen, Henry was the oldest of the Alden children. When their parents died years ago, Henry helped care for his younger brother and sisters.
    Now Henry studied the other items on the menu. Then he closed the plastic-covered folder and announced, “I’m having something different.”
    Benny stared at his older brother. It wasn’t like Henry to order something different from the rest of the Aldens.
    “What are you getting?” he asked.
    “Apple pie with ice cream !” Henry laughed at the surprise on Benny’s face.
    Mrs. Turner bustled over to clear away their lunch dishes. “Has anybody left room for dessert?” she asked with a knowing wink.
    “Five apple pies,” said Grandfather Alden. “One with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream, if it’s not too much trouble.”
    “It’s always a pleasure to wait on the Aldens,” the waitress said with a hearty laugh.
    “And it’s always a pleasure to come here,” Grandfather said, smiling.
    Cooke’s Drugstore was one of Greenfield’s oldest establishments. The Aldens often stopped in for ice cream sundaes and little things like suntan lotion.
    On one side of the store was a long lunch counter with red leather stools. The pharmacy counter stood opposite. A big plate glass window looked out on the town square.
    “You know,” said Jessie, “this place reminds me of our boxcar.”
    “It does!” said Violet. “It’s long like our boxcar.”
    “Only our boxcar doesn’t have seats that move,” said Benny, spinning his stool. “Or a milk shake machine.”
    Henry laughed. “It’s a good thing! You’d be fixing milk shakes anytime you wanted one!”
    “I could make milk shakes and sell them from our boxcar,” Benny said. “The boxcar could be my drugstore.”
    “The boxcar can be anything we want it to be,” Violet said.
    The Alden children spoke fondly of their old home. After they were orphaned, they moved into an abandoned railroad car. When their grandfather found them, he brought the children and their boxcar to his big Connecticut home.
    The boxcar held a place of honor in the backyard. The children played in it when they weren’t off on another exciting adventure with their grandfather.
    Mrs. Turner set a tray of apple pies on the counter. “Sorry this took so long,” she said. “But I had to sign for a parcel.” She lowered her voice. “I’ll sure be glad when Mr. Cooke gets back. That substitute knows about medicine, but he doesn’t know much about running this drugstore.”
    Jessie watched the substitute druggist measure pills into a bottle. Mr. Kirby was a young man with black, bushy hair and thick eyebrows. His hand shook as he poured, causing the pills to rattle.
    “He’s awfully nervous,” Henry observed. “I wonder why.”
    “You should see the back room,” said Mrs. Turner. “Looks like a cyclone hit it. Cartons and mail everyplace. Mr. Cooke will have a fit when he sees the mess.”
    Grandfather held out his coffee cup for a refill. “I hope John comes back soon from visiting his mother. The Winter Festival is Saturday. Only five days away.”
    The waitress shook her head. “I don’t expect Mr. Cooke back anytime soon. His mother is better, but she’s still in the hospital.”
    James Alden sighed. “We need every member of the town council. There’s