The Ping-Pong Table

One of the nicest things about Jack Barnes’s house was the rec room in the basement.  A large room, it took up about half of that particular floor, and it was filled with games.  An air hockey table, a pool table, and a ping-pong table were its main attractions, and Jack and his friends used these quite a bit—so much, in fact, that the old ping-pong table had been falling apart.  Seeing this, Mr. Barnes had decided to purchase a newer, sturdier one, and this was the one Jack and his friends had used over the past month.

“What an improvement,” remarked Jack.  “That old one looked like it would fall apart any day.  This one looks like it won’t fall apart for decades.”

“I can even stand on it!” demonstrated his friend, Kurt Morris.

“Yes, but get off, Kurt.  We want this thing to last a while,” said Jack.

Well, you can imagine Jack’s surprise when he got a letter from the company that had made the table.  “Notice!  Hija Inc. is recalling all Model H783 tables at once!”  The letter went on with instructions on how to return the table.  The cause of recall was “structural deficiencies.”

“Structural deficiencies?” said Kurt.  He, along with Robbie, was over at Jack’s house when the letter came.  “What do they mean by structural deficiencies?”

“I guess they didn’t think these tables were sturdy enough,” said Jack.

“Rubbish!” said Kurt.  “I could stand on that thing, remember?  Remember your last table?  There’s nothing a bit wrong with that table.”

“Maybe someone had an accident with it,” said Jack.  “Let’s Google it and see what comes up.”

Nothing exciting turned up on Jack’s search.  In fact, the only result to come up was a news article, which basically restated the letter.  There was one additional piece of information in the article.

“The recall may have stemmed from the fact that this particular model was a prototype the company was testing out.  Only 40 of these were sold, all in the Seattle-Tacoma area.”

“Only 40!” exclaimed Kurt, his collector’s mind going to work.  “Think about how rare this thing will be one day.”

“Rare?” said Robbie, in surprise.  “Kurt, do you really think people collect ping-pong tables?”

“People collect checkerboards.  Why shouldn’t they collect ping-pong tables too?”

“I don’t think we’re going to make any money off this table, Kurt,” said Jack.  “I do wonder why they’re recalling it, though.  Why don’t we give it a look?”

Kurt and Robbie agreed, and the boys descended the stairs to the rec room.  There were a few windows at the top of the room, but not much light was coming in because it had rained all day and was still quite cloudy.  Jack flipped on the light switch.

“Strange that there should be structural deficiencies on a ping-pong table with eight legs,” said Kurt.

The table did have eight legs.  Eight thick, wooden legs; four on each long side.  In fact, it was really built more like a pool table than a ping-pong table.  A thick wooden body supported the green “court” on top, and two strong metal poles held the net firmly in place across the board.

“Maybe they didn’t mean to put eight,” said Jack, “but they should have caught that.”  He ran his hand over the edge of the table, feeling for anything that might be loose.  Robbie went to one of the shorter sides and put his eye to the edge of the court, to see how flat it was.

“It looks perfectly flat,” he said, “unlike your last table, which had that fold in the middle.”

Kurt was studying the legs of the table.  He gave one of the corner ones a slight kick.  It didn’t seem to notice.  Moving down the table, he gave one of the side ones a kick.

“Oops!”

Jack looked.  “Kurt!  What did you do to it?”  The second leg had not survived Kurt’s kick as well; it had fallen off and now lay on the floor!

“That must be the structural deficiency,” said Kurt.  “Say, wait a second!  There’s a little hollow area at the top of this leg, and there’s a folded-up piece of paper in it.”

“Really?  Let me see it,” said Jack.  He pulled it out and unfolded it.  It read—

“[The following material has been edited by the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States of America for security reasons.]”

“Whoa!” said Jack.  “This doesn’t look like something we’re supposed to be reading.”

“I’ll bet someone stole that!” said Kurt, “and the ping-pong table was being used to deliver it!”

“We’d better call the police!” exclaimed Jack.

The police came—along with a CIA agent, who took the paper.  They took away the ping-pong table, but returned it three days later, satisfied it contained nothing else.  Jack and his friends were strictly warned not to say anything about the case, and they agreed.  To date, no one besides them has heard of it.

Well, except you, of course.

The Mystery of the Stolen Object, Part 2

Collmenter led the boys down a long hallway through a well-decorated mansion.  As the boys followed, he briefly told them what had happened.

“Let’s get right to the point,” he said.  “Thanks to my financial position, I have been able to collect many rare and valuable items.  I have always enjoyed is chess, and one of my most prized possessions is a marble checkerboard dating back to the 1850s that was once owned by Queen Victoria herself.”

Kurt whistled.  “That’s got to be worth a lot of money.”

“It is,” said Collmenter.  “Apparently, someone else thought so too.  Now, it’s missing.”

“Oh, so that’s what you want us to find,” said Jack.

“Precisely,” said Collmenter.  He stopped.  “The suspects are all in there.”

“You have it narrowed down to three people?” asked Jack.

“Yes,” said Collmenter.  “These are the only three I have allowed into the room the checkerboard was kept.  They were all at my house this morning when the item disappeared.  I’ll let you see them.”

He led the boys into a large sitting room, well-decorated with fancy draperies, paintings, and ornate furniture.  Seated along a couch at one end of the room were who the three boys assumed must be suspects.  Standing were four police officers, one of whom was in the middle of questioning the suspects as the boys came in.  He turned to see who had entered.  Then, his eyes narrowed.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” he said.

Jack gulped.  They had met before.  Once, when the three boys had been on a bus, Kurt had made a smart-aleck remark about how the man sitting next to him might be a criminal.  The funny thing was, the man was a criminal.  Funny as in strange, that is; it was almost lethal for the boys.  The officer that had just spoken, whose name was Williams, had warned them to avoid the area of town the crook had taken them too.  Still sheepish about the incident, Jack had hoped not to meet him again, at least not so soon.

“I thought you said you were getting detectives, Collmenter.”

“I am,” said Collmenter.  “Here they are.  I’ll bet these kids get this case solved before you do.”

“Oh, really?” said Officer Williams.  A sneer crossed his face.  “Give it a try.  The suspects are all yours for questioning.”

“Thanks,” said Jack.  He walked over until he was closer to the suspects, two men and a woman.  “Introduce yourselves from left to right, and tell me how you happened to be accused of stealing the checkerboard.”

To Jack’s dismay, the man on the left laughed, but he answered.  “I’m Collmenter’s nephew, Edgar Rasmus,” he said.  “I live here with my sister, Mildred.”  He motioned to the woman sitting next to him.  “We were both here the day the checkerboard was stolen.  I guess that’s why we were accused of stealing it.”

“Don’t forget you were in the room that morning, Edgar,” called Collmenter.

“So what?  I was in it; you were too,” said Edgar.  “Was the checkerboard still there when I left?”

“It was,” said Collmenter, “but that doesn’t mean you didn’t take it later.”

“When exactly did it go missing?” said Robbie.

“Sometime around 9:30,” said Collmenter.  “I discovered its absence at precisely 9:32 this morning.  The checkerboard sits in my study, and may I note that Edgar was in there asking if he could borrow money.”

“So what if I was?” said Edgar.  “You’ve got plenty of it, and you’re my uncle.  It’s only natural that I should ask you first.”

“I guess you’re Mildred Rasmus,” said Jack to the woman next to Edgar.  “Were you in that room at all this morning?”

“No, I was not,” said Mildred.  “I’ve been feeling under the weather, and I didn’t get up until I heard everyone shouting about the missing checkerboard.  That’s why no one saw me until after the board had been stolen.”

“I see,” said Jack.  “And you?”

“I’m Wilson Perkins,” said the third man.  “I and Mildred—well, we’re engaged to be married, as soon as I can get a job and support us.”

“That’s what he’s been saying for the last year-and-a-half,” filled in Collmenter, “and, come to think of it, he also came by my office to ask to borrow money.”

“Which one came first?” asked Robbie.

“Edgar,” said Collmenter, “but Wilson walked in during our meeting.  I told them both that they’d better look elsewhere for money.  I’ve been far too generous in the past.”

“What time did Edgar show up in your office?”

“Precisely 8:30,” said Collmenter, “and Wilson showed up nine minutes later.  Cosgrave let him in.”

“Speaking of Cosgrave, how do you know he didn’t commit the crime?” asked Kurt.

“Cosgrave was on his way out at 8:30.  He was driving a business partner of mine to the airport, and he didn’t get back until after I discovered the checkerboard was missing.  The board was still here during the interviews, though, so neither Cosgrave nor my guest could have stolen it.”

“Which leaves you three,” said Jack.  “Tell me, when did you leave the room, Mr. Collmenter?”

“I left it at nine o’clock, to have breakfast,” said Collmenter.  “Edgar and Wilson had left nine minutes before, at the same time.”

“What did you do after leaving?” Kurt asked Edgar.

“Me?” said Edgar.  “I called my financial broker and told him I hadn’t been able to borrow any money, thanks to my dear uncle.  Then, I went and had a workout in my uncle’s fitness facility.  I was still stretching when my uncle came and asked me where his board went.”

“You weren’t sweating, Edgar.”

“Try working out sometime,” said Edgar, “and you’ll see that you don’t start to sweat during the stretching.  Unless, of course, you’re in really bad shape.”

“Edgar—”

“And where were you?” Kurt asked Wilson.

“I left right away,” said Wilson.  “Like Edgar, I wanted to get money from somewhere as well.  Since Mr. Collmenter wouldn’t lend it to me, I wanted to drive around and clear my head a little.”

“We’ve checked Collmenter’s story,” said Officer Williams, “and the broker vouches that they were on the phone.  Of course, that doesn’t mean Williams didn’t steal the checkerboard after the conversation.  However, we haven’t been able to prove Wilson’s alibi.”

“Officer, I can assure you I’m telling the truth!” said Wilson.  “Why would I rob my fiancée’s uncle?”

“That would put Wilson in a tight spot, wouldn’t it?” said Jack.  “Cosgrave wasn’t around to see him leave, and Mr. Rasmus, did you see him reach the door?”

Rasmus smiled.  “I did not.”

“Then he could have hidden, instead of leaving,” said Jack, “especially since no one saw him—”

“I saw him!” exclaimed Mildred.  “He left when he said he did.  My window overlooks the driveway, so I could see him from it.”

“I see,” said Jack.  “Mr. Collmenter, I think I’ve found your thief.”

“What—”

“Earlier, your niece said she couldn’t have stolen the checkerboard because she was asleep until everybody started shouting when it was missing?  If so, she couldn’t have seen Perkins drive away.”

“I was asleep!” insisted Mildred.  “I—er—I woke up and went back to sleep.  I wasn’t lying.”

No one believed her though, and they had good reason not to.  Williams and his men had already searched Mildred’s room, but upon her slip of the tongue, they searched it again—and found the checkerboard, under a loose floorboard under the carpet under a small endtable.  At this point, Mildred broke down and confessed she had committed the crime.  Arthur Collmenter gave the boys a reward for their help, despite their insistence that a reward was unnecessary.  The biggest reward for them was the new respect they had gained in the eyes of Williams.

The Mystery of the Stolen Object, Part 1

Whatever attention Jack Barnes, Kurt Morris, Robbie Ransom, and their Detective Club might have received through their previous endeavors was bypassed when Emma Barnes foiled the car robbery.  Everyone loved the seven-year old heroine.  Or, to be more precise, the news outlets all loved Emma, probably because they expected a lot of viewers/readers with her story.  In addition to the attention she received when the initial story of the crime broke, she was invited to appear on two news programs, was interviewed by four reporters for websites or newspapers, and was the subject of a phone interview.  And she enjoyed it.  When asked how she felt when she realized her family’s car was getting stolen (with her in it!), “It was fun!”  That video kept getting replayed and replayed over and over.  On the car robber himself, “Sylvester was a nice guy, though he didn’t like Looney Tunes, for some reason.”  And on what might happen if someone tried to steal the Barnes’s car in the future, “You better not, because me, my brother, and his two friends have our own Detective Club, and we’ll catch you!”

Ah, yes, the Detective Club.  Founded by Jack Barnes, Emma’s older brother by five years, it was supposed to consist of him, Kurt, and Robbie.  Emma had snuck in to the swearing-in ceremony, however, and she now considered herself a fellow member.  The boys hadn’t, but they were powerless to stop the news interviews.

Of course, Jack was a nice big brother, so he took this all in stride.  Right?  Well, I wish I could report that he did, but it would have been lying to say that he wasn’t the littlest bit jealous.  Okay, he was really annoyed at the attention that Emma was getting.  He was glad that his sister was alright, and he was glad that she’d prevented a small-time crook from stealing the Barnes’s convertible, but how dare she put herself in their club without permission?

He was still brooding over this latest turn of events when the phone rang one Tuesday afternoon.  Emma wasn’t around, as she was doing yet another interview.  Jack wished he was the one being interviewed.

Until he picked up the phone, that is.

“You’re Jack Barnes, president of the Detective Club, is that right?” asked a voice.

“Why, yes, I am!” said Jack, excitedly.  “What do you want?”

“I have a mystery for you to solve,” said the man.  “My name is Arthur Collmenter.  Somebody stole something of mine, and I need you to figure out who did it.  I have the three suspects waiting here at the house.  The police have been questioning them for an hour, with no luck.  Would you and your club mind coming over?”

“Not at all!” said Jack.  “Where do you live?”

“Oh, my address won’t be necessary,” said the man.  “I’ll send Cosgrave over with the limo; he’ll pick you all up.  Can you all be ready by 2:30?”

Jack checked his watch. “Sure that should work!”  He gave the man his address.

“Thank you so much,” said the man.  “I’ll feel so much better when you all arrive!”  With that, he hung up the phone.

Feeling much better, Jack called Kurt and Robbie and told them to get right over to his house!  They agreed, naturally.  As for Emma…well, Jack wouldn’t have wanted to interrupt her interview.

“A limo, huh?” said Kurt, as the three boys waited outside.  It was a cloudy day, with a likely chance of rain.  Not unusual weather for Tacoma, but Jack figured it would hold off until the limo showed up.  “This man must have a lot of money,” continued Kurt.

“I guess so,” said Jack.  “I’m honored that he called us.”

“As am I,” said Kurt.  “This is all thanks to Robbie.”

“What?” asked Robbie.  “I didn’t do anything.”

“Aw, Robbie, you’re too humble,” said Kurt.  “Of course you did.  When you think of it, feel free to let us know.”

“Oh, that must be the limo,” said Jack, pointing down the street.  A long limousine was just turning the corner.  Unlike many, it was—

“Blue!” said Kurt.  “Now that is a cool car.”

“And we’re going to get to ride in it!” said Robbie, as the fancy vehicle idled up to the curb.  The motor shut off, the driver’s door opened, and a man in a blue suit got out.  “You are Jack Barnes and company?”

“I’m Jack Barnes,” answered Jack.

“Permit me to introduce myself.  My name is Cosgrave,” said the chauffeur, coming ‘round to the front.  “I’m to take you boys to Mr. Collmenter’s house at once.   Allow me,” he said, opening the door to the back of the limousine.

Jack, Kurt, and Robbie thanked the man and climbed in.  “Oh, boy, look at this!” said Kurt.  “Flatscreen TVs; two of them!  And is that a refrigerator?”

It was—filled with Coca-Cola.

“Let’s make sure we earn this!” said Kurt, pulling out a can.  “To the mystery we’re about to solve,” he toasted, as the car sped off.

Jack laughed.  “Kurt, you’re getting ahead of yourself.  We don’t even know exactly what’s going on yet.”

“Not yet, but we’ll have time enough to figure it out when we get there.  Let’s see if there’s any drag racing on.”

What do you know, there was drag racing on.  Kurt must have been a fan.  The limousine didn’t travel at speeds near three hundred miles per hour, but the cars on the screen did until, twenty-seven minutes later, Cosgrave pulled up in front of the house.  Actually, he pulled up in front of the gate to the house.  Rolling down his window, he punched in a code.  The gate swung up, and the limo drove through.  In a moment, they were at the head of the driveway, next to the long walk to the front door.  Cosgrave got out and opened the door for the boys, who all thanked him before starting up the walkway.  They noticed two police cars in the driveway.

“Wonder what the stolen object is?” said Kurt, but before he could answer, they were at the door, which was swung open by Collmenter.  “Come in!  Come in!” he boomed.  “Now, maybe we can get some real work done on this case!”

[Tune in for part 2 next week!]

The Car Robbery

Sylvester “Syl” Young was a veteran when it came to stealing cars, and he knew exactly what to look for.  Never mind the Lexus or the Audi.  Those cars would be locked securely and have alarms, most likely.  The easy pickers were the models from a few years back, particularly ones with dings or dents.  Most people figured no one would ever steal a car like that; thus, these were often left unlocked and were easy pickings for Sal.  Open windows?  Even better.

However, you can imagine how happy he was the day he walked into the Metropolitan Market parking lot and found a blue convertible.  With the top down.  Oh-ho!  That was like finding a word spelled horizontally from left to right in a word search.  It was the easiest thing in the world to steal.

Suppressing his euphoria, Syl walked over to the car and hopped over the side in one graceful motion.  He pulled out a toolkit and proceeded to destroy the ignition key.  An expert at this, he was soon able to turn the rotation switch, starting the car.

Carefully, he backed it out.  He looked around the parking lot to make sure no one was coming.  Then, he drove to the edge of the parking lot, put on his turn signal, and waited for a break in the traffic.  One soon came, and he turned.  He had gotten away.

Now, a huge smile graced Syl’s face as he drove, wind whistling through his thick black hair.  He waved to people he passed on the sidewalk.  He turned and smiled at the driver next to him when he stopped at a streetlight.  By the time anyone caught up with him, Syl would be several miles away, at a not-very-reputable auto dealership.

In the backseat of the car, a blanket stirred.  It moved very slightly at first, then began wiggling even more.  Finally, seven-year old Emma Barnes’s head popped up from beneath it.

“Are you done shopping yet—oh, hello,” she said.

Young looked back quickly and cursed.  “Er, I mean—hi!” he said.

“Where are you going in my car?”

“Um—your mom asked me to drive it somewhere for her.”

“Oh,” said Emma.  “That’s funny, because I went shopping with my dad.”

“Well, he’s taking the bus home, and I’m driving this car somewhere for your mother.  Okay?”

“Don’t you have a better story than that?” asked Emma, blinking at Syl in the rearview mirror.

Syl glared back at his passenger.  “No, I don’t!”

“You should have done your homework before you tried stealing this car.  You see, my parents never let strangers drive their car.  They’re the only ones that get to—”

“Will you stop talking?” asked Syl.  “This drive was nice and peaceful until you showed up?”

“My nap was nice and peaceful until you showed up, as well,” responded Emma.  “What’s your name?”

“Sylvester.  Sylvester Y—why am I telling you my name?”

“Sylvester,” said Emma.  “You mean like the cat in Looney Tunes?”

“Don’t you dare say that!” yelled Syl.  “You know what I do to people who say that to me?  I—well, don’t say that again!”

“Do you like Tweety Bird?”

“Kid, shut your mouth.”

“My name’s Emma.  I could tell you my last name, too, but I won’t until you tell me yours.”

“You don’t need to know my last name, kid.”

“Do you like this car?”

Syl glowered at his talkative passenger.  “Why, of all the people that might be sitting in the back of an automobile, did I have to pick you up?”

“Simple,” said Emma.  “This is my car.”

“I know that!” said Syl.  “I meant—oh, never mind.”

“Do you like Mentos?”

“No, I don’t like Mentos.”

“Are you sure?  What about Altoid’s?”

“No, I don’t like Altoid’s either.  Will you just—”

“Don’t you like any mints at all?”

Syl sighed.  “I like peppermints,” he said.  “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”  Syl started thinking about what to do with his annoying passenger.

“How long have you been stealing cars?”

“Will you knock off the chatter?”

“I thought most people liked to talk about their jobs.  When my dad gets home from work, he always tells us exactly what went on, and who he yelled at, and—”

“Let me tell you something,” said Syl.  “In my business, one does not discuss details.”

“Oh, I get it,” said Emma.  “You don’t want anyone to go talking to the cops about you, is that it?”

“Don’t say cops!”

“Why?  Oh, wait, I forgot.  You don’t like the police.”

“Don’t say that either!”

“If my dad were a police officer, would you not like him?”

“Will you shut your little trap?”

“You didn’t answer my question, Sylvester.  Can you say ‘Suffering Succotash’?”

Syl turned his head.  “For the last time, kid, Don’t!  Mention!  LOONEY TUNES!”

“Alright,” said Emma.  “What do you want to talk about?”

“Just don’t talk kid!  Shut up!”

Finally, Emma did shut up, and Syl relaxed.  For five seconds, there was no sound except for that of the other cars going by.  Then—

Weeeee-oooooooooo!

“Where’s that siren coming from?” asked Syl, checking the rearview mirror?

“It’s from that police car behind us, Mr. Sylvester,” said Emma.  “You ran a red light!”

The Haunted Organ

One thing Jack Barnes and his friends hadn’t experienced yet was a total stranger asking them to solve a mystery.  So far, they’d had to find all their own cases.  They’d found quite a few, but Jack was waiting for the day when someone would ask them to help.

That day was a drizzly Monday.  At 2:13, the phone rang.  Jack was the only member of his family at home, so he had to answer it.  He was glad he did.

“Are you Jack Barnes?” asked the person on the other end.

“Yes,” said Jack.

“You and a couple friends of yours solve mysteries, right?”

“Right,” said Jack, getting excited.

“Well, I’m Mark Harrison, and I’m in charge of Tacoma Remodeling and Restorations.  Most of our work is calls from other people, but occasionally, I’ll pick up a property and have the guys get to work restoring it, in hopes of making a profit.

“Not long ago, we picked up an old church building in North Tacoma.  The church that previously occupied it had moved into a bigger building, and the old one’s been empty for ten years.  It has some great stone architecture, and I think, if we can get it restored, we’ll be able to do something with it.

“However, something strange keeps happening here, and it’s starting to freak out my workers.  Now they’re flat-out refusing to give this place a look.  I was wondering if you’d mind coming by and seeing if you could figure out what was going on.”

“Not at all!” said Jack.  “Is today a good time?”

“Yes.”

“Good!  I’ll call Kurt and Robbie.  Where is this building?”

The man gave him the address.

“One more question, Mr. Harrison.  Exactly what is the strange thing that’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here,” said the man, hanging up with a click.

Now, Jack had to come, if only to find out what was happening.  He called Kurt Morris and Robbie Ransom and told them about the call.  They both agreed to be right over.  Jack, Kurt, and Dick made up the Detective Club, and they were always up for a mystery.

Thirty minutes later, the boys found themselves in front of the church.  It was a large, stone building with stained glass windows and a steeple above the door.  A garden that must have looked really nice at one time but was now very overgrown surrounded the place.

Robbie whistled.  “That’s a nice building!” he said.

“It is,” said Kurt, “but it’s what they have to say inside that’s important.  If the building’s what you’re looking for in a church, your focus is not in the right place.”

“Well, right now, no church occupies this church,” said Jack.  “Let’s see if Mr. Harrison’s waiting for us.”  He climbed the cracked cement steps and knocked on the door.  His knock echoed around in the large, empty space behind the thick wooden door.

Almost right away, the door was answered (by Mark Harrison, of course).  He was a tall man, muscular, with short blond hair and a firm handshake, which he used on all three of the boys.  “Thank you for coming,” he said.  “I had no idea what I was going to do about this problem before I thought of you.”

“Just what is your problem?” asked Jack.

“I’ll show you,” said the man.  “Through here.”  He led the boys though another large wooden door into the auditorium.

“Wow,” said Jack.  “This is a nice building!”  The large auditorium was lined with wood paneling.  Several stained glass windows kept it from being too dinghy on the inside.  At the front of the room was the platform, which had several different levels.  Wood paneling on the left and right on the platform had crosses sticking up on top.  At the very back of the auditorium was a pipe organ, not one of the largest ever, but still a good size.

Of course, the building was in the process of renovation.  “We’re working on the paneling on the ceiling,” said Harrison, “which is why this scaffolding is all over the place.  We took out the pews in the meantime; they’ll be put back before we put this place up for sale.”

“I see,” said Jack, noting that the ceiling looked about half-finished.  “Considering that you’re in the process of renovation, though, everything looks normal.”

“Something strange has been going on in here, though,” said Harrison.  “I’ve heard it a few times myself, so my workers aren’t just making up stories.  Every day, it seems—”

He was interrupted by a shrill blast from the organ!

“There!  That’s what I called you all down here to investigate!  Do you see anyone playing the organ?”

The boys all looked to the front of the room.  The organ keyboard, prominently displayed in the center of the platform, could not be played without anyone in the sanctuary noticing.  Yet no one sat at the keyboard!  The blast (a diminished chord, if you’re musical) continued for about five seconds before ceasing as suddenly as it had begun.

“There’s no one there!” gasped Kurt.  “How did that happen?”

“That’s what I was hoping you boys could figure out,” said Harrison.  “It happens every day, more than once sometimes, and its scaring the wits out of my workers.  Three of them have told me they’ll quite before they come back here, and the ones that are still here are getting scared.  I can’t keep having this happen if I expect to get this building done.”

“Did you try calling the police?” asked Jack.

“They weren’t any help,” said Harrison.  “They were skeptical, as you understand, and they told me it wasn’t a crime to play an organ.”

“If it’s scaring off your workers, then something’s got to be done about it,” said Jack.  “Do you mind if we take a look at the organ?”

“By all means!” said Harrison.  “Do whatever you need to do to solve this mystery.”

The three boys walked down the aisle to the front of the auditorium.  Robbie said, “Maybe that wasn’t the organ at all.  It could just be a recording.”

“I’m afraid not,” said Jack.  “There’s a difference between a recording and a real pipe organ.  A recording can’t capture quite all the sound.  That was definitely the organ we heard.”

They got to the organ and began looking it over.  Kurt noticed something right away.  “The keys are covered with dust,” he declared.  “This organ hasn’t been played in a while.”

“It’s been played somehow,” said Jack.  “You’re right; they are covered with dust.  No use looking for fingerprints.  I wonder if this thing still works.”

He hit a key.  Instantly, a loud note sounded until Jack lifted his finger.

“That answer your question?” asked Kurt.

“So it does work,” said Jack.  “Now, let me see if I can figure out what chord that was.”  He hit several notes, trying out different possibilities until the notes started to resemble the sound from earlier.  Finally, Jack figured it out and pushed down the correct keys.

“That sound like it?” he asked.

“It does,” said Kurt, “only there’s something different about it.  The notes are fine, but—”

“It’s the tone,” said Robbie.  “The blast we heard sounded fuller, somehow.  It was as if it had higher notes.”

“You can change the sound on an organ,” pointed out Jack.  “All you do is pull out or push in the stops.”  He pointed to several round knobs on the organ.  (Author’s note: all organs are different; the stops are not always knobs.)

“Hmm,” said Kurt.  “Why would someone bang on the keys and switch the stops afterwards?”

“I don’t think this keyboard was used at all,” said Jack.  “That organ must have gone off some other way.”  He got off the bench.  “Let’s take a look inside.”

“Inside what?” asked Robbie.

“Inside the organ,” said Jack.

“You can do that?”

“Of course,” said Jack.  “There’s usually a door or something—ah, see that little door over there?  Open it up.”

Robbie opened a small door behind the organ, revealing a large black space inside.  Jack led the way through, followed by Kurt, followed by Robbie.

They found themselves surrounded by pipes.  The pipes visible from the sanctuary were but a fraction of the pipes inside the actual organ.  The sizes varied greatly, from gigantic ones many feet long to small, skinny ones that looked like straws.

“This is how they service organs,” said Jack.  “They have this little room back here so organ technicians can get in and make repairs or whatever.”

“I had no idea these things were so big,” said Robbie, looking around in awe.  “How many pipes are there?”

“I’m not sure,” said Jack.  “It varies.  I know that the world’s largest pipe organ has over 33,000 pipes.”

Kurt whistled.  “That’s a lot.”

“It is,” said Jack, “but right now, we need to figure out what’s causing them to play.  Look around and see if you can spot anything out of the ordinary.”

The boys did so but found nothing that looked unusual—that is, nothing that looked unusual inside an organ room.  “I don’t know,” said Kurt.  “Whatever’s causing it doesn’t want to be found.  Maybe we should have an organ expert come take a look.”

“We might have to,” said Jack.  “I can’t tell whether this is normal or not.”

“Before we go,” said Robbie, “Do you want me to take a picture of you and Kurt in the organ?”  He’d brought his camera along.

“Sure!” said Jack.  “Where else are we going to get a chance to?”  He and Kurt got next to each other and both made funny faces.

“Smile,” said Robbie, snapping the shutter on the digital camera.  A bright flash went off.  “It’s pretty dark in here, so I don’t know if it will—hey, would you look at that!”

“What?” asked Jack.

“The picture!  Look how well it turned out!”  Robbie turned his camera around so Jack and Kurt could see the screen.  The picture had turned out very well!  The flash had made it bright as day in the organ room.

“Hah-hah!” laughed Kurt.  “Good face, Jack.”

“You too,” said Jack.  “I didn’t know your camera was so strong, Robbie.”  He continued looking at the photo, then frowned.

“Hey, look at this,” he told Kurt.  “See this wood?  To your left in the photo?  It’s a much lighter shade of brown than all the wood around it.”

Kurt looked.  “You’re right!  It’s definitely a different piece!”

“I wonder if it’s another door,” said Jack.  “Let’s check!”  He crawled over to where he and Kurt had posed for the photo and pressed against the wall.

Suddenly, another small door swung open, revealing a dimly lit room behind!

“Let’s see what’s in here,” said Jack, leading the way through.  Kurt followed. They found themselves not in the auditorium, but in a small room, unlit except for two small windows at the top.  The room had several old candlesticks, banners, chairs, and other miscellaneous objects scattered around it.  But right next to the organ, there was—

“Another keyboard!” said Kurt.

“So that’s how the organ was played,” said Jack.  As Robbie emerged from the hole, Jack hit the chord he had hit earlier.  The sound rang about the small room, sounding exactly like the one the boys had heard upon entering the building.

After that, the case was quickly wrapped up.  Jack and his friends crawled back through the organ and told Harrison about the room.  Harrison, in turn, called his workmen and had them come take a look at it.  Once they saw what was causing the organ noise, they weren’t afraid to work anymore.  In fact, several of them and Harrison staked out the room one day and caught the “phantom organist” as he tried to enter.  Boy, was he surprised!  It turned out to be a rival builder who wanted to do the same thing as Harrison with the property.  Unfortunately, since the rival hadn’t actually vandalized the church or tried to harm anyone, there wasn’t really anything he could be thrown in jail for.  However, his scheme had completely fallen apart; the workers were not the least bit scared of the organ anymore.  In fact, they had the pleasure of pitching him down the front stairs of the church as they ordered him not to come back.

Next time the organ was played, it would be for worship!