The Ice Cream Mystery by Gertrude Chandler Warner
None of the store owners knew what had happened to the posters or the fliers. No one had seen them disappear.
“Maybe different people picked up all the fliers one at a time,” said Violet doubtfully.
“I don’t think so,” said Henry. “We put out too many fliers to be taken in one day. I think whoever took all the posters got rid of all the fliers they could find, too.”
“Someone who doesn’t like the ice-cream shop,” Benny said.
Jessie nodded in agreement. “And we need to find out who.”
“But now we’d better put up more posters,” Violet said. She added, “And put out more fliers.”
“Good idea. Let’s go,” said Henry. “And while we’re at the Ice Cream Barn, I think we need to talk to Brianna.”
“Why?” asked Benny.
“Because she knows something she’s not telling us. It might be a clue,” said Henry.
“Back for more ice cream today?” Katy called cheerfully as the Aldens came through the front door of the shop. She was serving a double scoop to one of two boys, while a familiar-looking thin blonde woman in sunglasses was poking at an ice-cream sundae in the corner. As Jessie glanced over, the woman slid a small notebook out from under her napkin and wrote something on it before hiding it under her napkin again.
“Not yet,” said Henry. “We thought we’d put up a few more posters and hand out some more fliers.”
“Great,” said Katy. “We have another big boxful out in the barn. Brianna’s out there. She can show you.”
The Aldens found Brianna outside the barn. She had a paintbrush in her hand and was studying something she had set on a small table covered with newspaper. Butterscotch watched sleepily from the shade of a nearby tree.
“What’s that?” asked Benny, skipping up to the table.
“Oh, hi. This? It’s a suggestion box. I just painted it. When it’s dry, I’m going to put it inside the shop. Customers can write down their ideas and opinions and stick them inside,” Brianna explained.
Violet bent forward to study the small wooden box. “It looks like the ice-cream wagon!” she said.
“It does? Good. It’s supposed to,” Brianna said. “What’s happening?”
“Well,” said Jessie. “We have a problem.”
“Someone took all our posters!” blurted Benny.
“And most of the fliers, too,” added Violet.
“What?” Brianna said, her voice going up.
“We came to get more to put up,” said Henry. “And we need to ask you a few questions.”
“Good grief,” said Brianna. She paused, thinking hard, then asked, “What questions?”
“There are at least two people we know about who don’t like the Ice Cream Barn. One is our neighbor, Mr. Bush,” Jessie said.
Brianna nodded.
“The other is Preston, Katy’s old assistant,” Henry said.
“Why would Preston hate the Ice Cream Barn?” Brianna said, looking very surprised. “He loved working with Granna Katy.”
“We met him yesterday when we were putting up fliers,” Violet said. “He was very upset about losing his job.”
“But it is only temporary, until we can pay him again!” Brianna protested. “You don’t think—do you think Preston made that fake order? And stole the posters?”
“Maybe,” said Violet.
“No! No, that’s not possible. I know Preston is upset, but he’d never do something like that,” said Brianna. “And Mr. Bush is just worried about having the wagon in the neighborhood. When he sees how well behaved Butterscotch is, he’ll get over it.”
“If Preston and Mr. Bush didn’t do it, who did?” asked Henry.
“At first I wondered if another ice-cream company might be trying to put the Ice Cream Barn out of business. National Sugar Shop Corporation has been asking Granna Katy to sell them the Ice Cream Barn so they can set up their own ice-cream shop in Greenfield,” said Brianna. “But then I realized that was silly. A big company wouldn’t bother trying to hurt a small business like ours.”
“Anyone else?” asked Jessie. She looked toward the Ice Cream Barn. A white truck with a bright blue stripe all the way around it had pulled up to the front of the shop. The door of the truck read, MARTINE BLUE RIBBON ICE CREAM VENDOR AND RESTAURANT SUPPLY COMPANY. “How big is Marcos’ company? Could he be the one trying to hurt the Ice Cream Barn?”
“Martine Supply is not very big. Marcos is one of three partners there,” Brianna said. “But he’d never, ever try to harm the Barn’s business. We’re old customers of his. Katy’s known him for years.” She nodded toward the truck. “In fact, I have a meeting with Marcos and Katy in about five minutes.”
“We need to get the fliers,” Henry reminded her.
“Oh, right. In the stall next to Butterscotch’s in a big box on a bench. You can’t miss them.” Brianna carefully picked up the almost dry suggestion box. “Well, I’d better get to that meeting.”
As soon as she’d left, the Aldens loaded up with fliers and posters. Then Jessie said, “Come on. Let’s go meet Marcos!”
Inside, the store was quiet. The ice-cream sundae the blonde woman had been eating was melting on the small table by the front window. Katy and Brianna were sitting at a larger table with a stocky man with black and silver hair who had thick horn-rimmed glasses. He was wearing a white shirt with a blue stripe that matched the truck outside.
“Hi,” said Jessie. “We found the posters and fliers, Katy.”
“Good,” said Katy. “The more you put up, the better it is for business.”
“Would you like one?” Benny asked, handing a flier to the man.
“What’s this?” the man said, examining the flier.
“Advertising,” Brianna replied.
“And this is your advertising staff?” the man said, grinning.
Brianna grinned back, then introduced everyone. “As you know, we buy our basic flavors—vanilla, chocolate, strawberry —from Marcos,” she explained to the Aldens.
“He also provides some, of our ice-cream treats, such as ice-cream sandwiches.”
“If your business grows like you want it to, you’re going to need more than basic flavors from me,” Marcos said. “You’ll never have time to make all the special flavors you do now.”
“Someone was just saying that to me a few days ago,” Katy commented. “She had lots of ideas to make us into a big business. If we hired her to run things, she said, we’d be ice-cream kings.”
“Good thing she didn’t convince you,” Brianna said. “We don’t want to be ice-cream kings, or queens, or anything like that. We just want to make the best ice cream around.”
“You do!” said Benny.
“I have to admit, it tastes very, very good. But you could give your flavor recipes to my company and we could make batches for you, you know,” Marcos said.
“No,” said Katy firmly. “And I’m not going to change my mind, no matter what you say.”
Holding up his hands, Marcos said, “Okay, okay. Maybe you’re not going to change your mind...yet.”
“Make a note and put it in our new suggestion box,” Brianna said with a wink.
Marcos laughed. “See you next week,” he said, and got up.
“Don’t forget our order forms,” Brianna said, handing him several sheets of paper.
Marcos tucked the papers into a folder. “If you want to change your order, you know where to reach me,” he said. He waved and headed out the door.
“The suggestion box looks good,” Violet said admiringly.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Katy said in a pleased voice. “I hired the right business manager and partner when I hired my granddaughter.”
Brianna blushed, but she looked pleased, too.
“I have a suggestion,” Henry said briskly. “I suggest we get to work putting up these posters and handing out these fliers.”
“Tell you what,” Brianna said. “When you’re finished, stop back by here and I’l
“Hooray!” said Benny.
“We’ll be back,” Jessie promised.
CHAPTER 5
Is This Your Horse?
“Next stop, the library,” Brianna announced from the driver’s seat of the ice-cream wagon. She guided Butterscotch across the grass and under the shade of a large old oak tree next to the library building. “Why don’t you ring the wagon bell, Benny.”
Benny leaned forward and gave the bell a long, loud ring. “I’m getting good at this,” he announced.
“You sure are,” Brianna agreed.
The Aldens had been riding in the ice-cream wagon all afternoon, taking turns sitting up on the driver’s seat with Brianna, helping dish up ice cream, peering out the top half of the Dutch door at the back of the wagon.
Now, as the wagon halted, Henry unlatched the Dutch door, pushed it open, and walked around to Butterscotch. He took the reins from Brianna and tied Butterscotch to the tree.
Jessie helped lower the steps from the driver’s seat, while Violet pushed open the side window from which the ice cream was served.
Brianna went to join Violet inside the wagon, but Benny stayed up in the wagon seat. He liked being there. He waved at everybody he saw and called out, “Ice cream sold here!”
Now he talked excitedly. “Look! There’s Thelma from the bike shop! Hi, Thelma. I’ve seen lots of people I know today. Marcos, in his blue and white truck. I like his truck. It’s not as nice as our wagon, though. And I saw three neighbors from our street. And two friends of Grandfather’s.”
Listening to Benny chatter, Jessie patted Butterscotch’s nose, then filled her water bucket. Brianna always carried a container of water in the wagon just for Butterscotch.
“Ice cream! Sold here!” Benny sang out from the wagon seat. “Hi, come buy some ice cream! Oh, hi, Preston.”
Preston didn’t ask how Benny knew his name. He stopped his bike a few feet away. “So now you’re all working for the Ice Cream Barn.”
“No,” said Jessie. “Brianna’s just letting us ride in the wagon today.”
“Ha,” said Preston. But he didn’t sound angry. He sounded almost as if his feelings were hurt.
“It’s true,” said Henry.
“Sure,” said Preston.
On the other side of the wagon, a small line was forming at the window. Brianna was very busy scooping ice-cream cones while Violet took the money and made change.
“How’s Butterscotch?” asked Preston abruptly.
“Fine,” said Henry.
“Come pet him,” urged Jessie.
“Hot day, cold ice cream!” Benny called from the seat to some passersby. Jessie had thought of that and he liked the sound of it.
Butterscotch snorted, making bubbles in the water, then raised her dripping nose to look at Preston.
He got on his bike and pedaled away without another word.
Brianna and Violet hadn’t noticed Preston. They were too busy. The small line of customers had gotten bigger.
“The special flavor this week? Banana split,” Brianna said. “Is that what you want, Ralph?” By now, she knew many of the regular customers by name. “One scoop coming right up.”
A large group of children came out of the library and joined the line. Brianna greeted several of them by name, too.
“How do you remember everybody?” asked Violet.
Brianna grinned. “Lots of them ask for the same thing every time. That makes it easier. Like Annie with the red hair is one scoop chocolate, one scoop vanilla, vanilla on top. Maria is chocolate cherry fudge. Radj, the boy at the end of the line? He’ll order one scoop of whatever the special is, with sprinkles. He always gets sprinkles, no matter what flavor the ice cream is.”
“May I pet the horsie?” a little girl asked.
Henry said, “Her name is Butterscotch and she likes to have her nose petted. You can scratch behind her ear, too.”
Butterscotch was almost as popular as ice cream with the group of children. One little boy even tried to share his ice cream with the big horse. Jessie stopped him in time, explaining that Butterscotch would have plenty of oats when she got home from work that night.
Benny didn’t say anything about that. He thought it was too bad that Butterscotch couldn’t have an ice-cream cone of her own.
Then Violet reached down to hand a customer change and looked up to find herself almost face-to-face with a police officer.
“Oh!” she said. “Hello. Would you like some ice cream?”
“No, thank you,” said the police officer. “I’m Officer Pierre. Who’s in charge here?”
“I am,” said Brianna.
“Could I see your license and permits?” the police officer asked.
“Sure,” said Brianna. She washed her hands, then opened a small drawer underneath the money drawer. She took out a folder and passed it through the window to Officer Pierre.
The officer examined the papers carefully, then handed them back to Brianna.
“Is there a problem, Officer?” Henry asked.
“We have the library’s permission to park the wagon here,” Jessie added.
Officer Pierre didn’t answer right away. She walked around to look at Butterscotch, who was standing quietly, her eyes half closed. Officer Pierre glanced at the water bucket, then back at the wagon. “Hot day,” she said.
“Hot day, cold ice cream,” said Benny promptly.
That made Officer Pierre smile a little.
The officer moved closer to Butterscotch, stroking her nose and looking her over carefully. Then she said, “We had a complaint about the horse. Someone said she was being mistreated.”
“Butterscotch? Mistreated?” gasped Brianna in disbelief.
“She’s not being mistreated!” Henry said. “We always stop in the shade. And she gets water at every stop.”
“And she has her own barn and stall and paddock,” said Jessie.
“And oats at night,” Benny said.
“Who complained?” Violet asked.
“I’m not allowed to say,” Officer Pierre replied. “But whoever said you were treating your horse badly obviously didn’t know what they were talking about.”
“Or whoever it was wanted to cause trouble,” Henry said in a low voice.
Neither Officer Pierre nor Brianna heard him, but Jessie did. She glanced over quickly and Henry knew she’d been thinking the same thing.
“Butterscotch and I don’t go out during the hot part of the day. And if it is too hot—or too cold—we won’t go out at all,” Brianna was saying.
“I’m writing this complaint up as unfounded,” Officer Pierre reassured her. “That means there is nothing to it, and if we get another complaint, we’ll look much more closely at it before contacting you.”
“Good,” said Benny.
After the officer had left, Brianna and Violet served a few more ice-cream cones to customers, including one more familiar face. It was the blond woman with the dark eyebrows. “One scoop,” Brianna predicted in a low voice as they watched the customer approach. “And no matter what flavor, she won’t eat it all.”
Brianna was right.
“What’s your freshest ice cream?” demanded the woman.
“It’s all fresh,” Brianna told her.
“The ice cream you just made,” the woman said.
“Our special flavor, banana split,” said Brianna.
“I’ll take it. One scoop,” the woman said.
She looked the wagon over as she waited for her scoop.
“Would you like to pet Butterscotch?” Jessie asked.
“The horse? No, thank you,” said the woman. She paid for her cone and took a careful taste. “It is fresh,” she said.
“Yes, it is,” said Violet.
The customer walked around the back of the wagon, still looking it over. Then she left, taking tiny, careful tastes of her ice cream.
Benny saw her toss it into a trash can across th
“She threw it away!” he said in horror.
“Do I know my customers, or what?” said Brianna. “She does that every time.”
They had a few more customers, but it was getting late now. When the last one had left, Henry unhitched Butterscotch from the tree, emptied the water bucket, and tied it to the side of the wagon. He and Jessie climbed in the back while Brianna joined Benny on the driver’s seat. Violet closed the Dutch door and latched it, and then went to the front of the wagon to peer through the little window behind the driver. “Ready,” she said.
“Giddyap, Butterscotch,” Benny said.
“Home, girl,” said Brianna, and Butterscotch, who knew that was where they were going anyway, turned in the direction of the Ice Cream Barn—and her own barn, too.
Inside the wagon, Jessie said in a low voice so Brianna wouldn’t hear her, “I think whoever complained about Butterscotch was trying to cause more trouble for the Ice Cream Barn.”
“I think so, too,” said Henry. “Anyone can see that Butterscotch isn’t being mistreated.”
“It was a mean thing to do,” said Violet. “It upset Brianna. But who could have done it?”
“Remember Benny saying he’d seen Marcos? It could have been Marcos. Benny waved at him, so Marcos knew the ice-cream wagon was making its rounds,” said Jessie.
“So did Preston,” said Jessie. “And he was just here, right before the police officer came.”
“He sure was,” said Henry. “He was here and he was in a very bad mood. And he asked about Butterscotch.”
They looked at one another. Violet said, “It doesn’t really prove anything. And the one who complained about Butterscotch before was Mr. Bush.”
Henry frowned. “True.” He paused, then said, “Wait a minute.” Going to the front of the wagon, he spoke through the window. “Benny, remember you said you saw some of our neighbors today?”
“Yes,” said Benny. “I waved at them.”
“Was Mr. Bush one of them?” asked Henry.
“Yes,” said Benny. “He was still cranky. He didn’t wave back. I think he’s the one who made the police come after Butterscotch.”