The Secret of Willow Lane by Virginia Rose Richter Page B

“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