The Mystery of Sinister Scarecrow - M. V. Carey [6]
“Do we go in through the cornfield, the way we did this morning?” he said.
“I’m not anxious to irritate Dr. Woolley any more today,” said Jupiter. “Look ahead. Isn’t that a dirt road that cuts across the Radford property and runs down the hill to the cornfield?”
“We might irritate Dr. Woolley almost as much on a dirt road,” Bob pointed out.
“At least we wouldn’t seem to be furtive,” said Jupiter. He led the way up Chaparral Canyon to the point where an unpaved track crossed the Radford land.
From there the boys could see the barn halfway down the hill where Woolley conducted his studies. To the left of the barn, and a little uphill, stood the greenhouse that sheltered the seething, pulsating colony of ants. Beyond the greenhouse was a row of eucalyptus trees running straight across the slope. The dirt road ended at the trees.
Jupe looked ahead along Chaparral Canyon. He saw a stately, L-shaped white house with a red tile roof. In the angle formed by the two wings of the house, a swimming pool was set into a terrace. All around the house were velvety lawns.
Across the road from this elegant
residence there was an oddly
fashioned, windowless building. It
was made entirely of concrete.
“The Mosby place,” said Pete.
“That’s a nutty building. And this is
a nutty place for a museum, up in
these hills.”
“It was Mosby’s home when
Mosby was alive,” said Jupiter. “A
lot of wealthy people live up here.
At least the building is functional.
Since it houses a great art collection,
the fact that it has no windows is a
real advantage. It is absolutely
secure.”
“It’s also ugly,” said Bob. “I’ll
bet the Radfords had a fit when it
was built!”
The boys began to wheel their
bikes down the dusty road toward
the eucalyptus trees. They were
quiet now. Into the mind of each
came the picture of Charles Woolley
as they had first seen him that morning, raging and threatening.
When they reached the trees the boys could see the scarecrow and the cornfield.
Leaving their bikes, they walked down to the rail fence along the field and looked closely at the scarecrow.
The thing had no legs. It
was supported by a stick,
nailed to the fence. A second
stick fastened at right angles
to the first one made the
arms. The scarecrow wore a
black hat, a faded corduroy
jacket with straw stuffed in
the arms, and old gray work
gloves. Its head was a straw-
filled burlap sack tied at the
neck
with
string.
Black
triangles had been painted on
for eyes, and a black slash for
a grinning mouth.
“It couldn’t walk,” said Jupe. “Not possibly.”
There was a gasp. The boys looked around. A woman stood on a path that led away through the eucalyptus trees. At first glance she looked as if she’d just stepped out of an ad for some expensive product. She had a thin, aristocratic face and wore a casually elegant costume of blue silk slacks and a printed silk overblouse. But a closer look showed faded blond hair, drawn features, and haunted eyes.
The woman stared at the boys. “What did you say?” she demanded of Jupe.
“I said—” Jupe began boldly enough, but then stopped. It would sound ridiculous to repeat his statement that the scarecrow couldn’t walk, and Jupiter hated to sound ridiculous.
“You said it couldn’t walk,” said the woman. Her voice was raised now, and there was an edge to it, as if she could barely control herself. “What do you know about this scarecrow?”
“Nothing, really,” said Jupiter. “We met a man in town who said he saw a scarecrow walking around up here. That sounded strange, so we came to have a look for ourselves.”
“A man saw the scarecrow?” The woman’s face was eager. “What man? Where is he?”
Jupiter hesitated. Larry Conklin worked for the firm responsible for the safety of the Mosby Museum. What would his superiors think if they learned that Conklin was telling a strange tale of a scarecrow seen running through the dusk?
“Well?” the woman demanded.
“The man was just a passerby,