Mystery of the Melting Snowman Read Free Page B

your note. What were you doing over at the Tates’ in the middle of the night?”

    “We didn’t wake you up, did we?” asked Cindy, running upstairs.
    “Oh, no,” Mrs. Temple said. “I had my special little cotton balls in my ears. I was sure that you three would find some kind of mystery before Christmas vacation is over—and it’s almost over.”
    Cindy walked into her mother’s bedroom. Mrs. Temple was dressed and was brushing her hair.
    “We did find a mystery, Mom,” Cindy said. “A real one. I’ll tell you about it later. I’ve got to go outside again and help Jay and Dexter spy. Do you want me to do anything first?”
    “Nothing,” smiled Mrs. Temple. “I’m going to curl up downstairs with a book. It’s heaven not thinking about going to work today. Even though I do love my job. You’re in the clear for the day.”
    “Thanks, Mom!” Cindy said. She ran downstairs to get the iron dog. She carried it upstairs to her room. Why was it so important? She turned the animal around and around and looked at it from all sides. She turned it upside down. Then she pushed it out of sight, under her bed. It would be safe there.
    When Cindy came downstairs, Mrs. Temple was carrying a cup of coffee into the living room.
    “I’m going to sit here curled up like a kitten all morning,” she said, smiling. “I have a stack of beautiful books from the library. And today the Tates are taking me to Chicago and then to dinner and a movie. I have nothing to do but spoil myself. You don’t mind having TV dinners this one night, do you?”
    Cindy smiled. “I like them better than TV.”
    “Oh, and do have Dexter over too. Anne is going with us, and there won’t be anyone over there either.”
    “OK,” Cindy said, taking her mittens off the radiator. “Mom, do you know who lives in that big old red house across the street? The one up at the corner.”
    Mrs. Temple sipped her coffee. “Never ask a working mother anything about neighbors,” she said. “I hear nothing, I see nothing, I know nothing. But that house changes hands a lot. I used to know who lived there five or six years ago, but I’ve lost track.”
    Cindy laughed. “Well, I’m rushing off to solve a big mystery, Mom. See you later.”
    As Cindy walked down the porch steps she saw a familiar face and heard a familiar voice. It was Mrs. Selma Peabody, the neighborhood gossip. “Oh, no,” groaned Cindy to herself.
    “I was going to drive my car over to the sale,” said Mrs. Peabody. “But with the street torn up I had to leave my car there behind the barricade. I’ll probably catch my death.”
    “What sale?” Cindy asked, curious.
    “The one up there at the corner in the red house,” Mrs. Peabody said. “Imagine, having a sale. Strangers tramping through your house, pawing things.”
    Cindy thought quickly. A sale in the red house. That’s where the man in the parka had gone. If there was a sale, then anyone could go. The Spotlighters could go. She could walk right in with Jay and Dexter and spy on Mr. X.
    Cindy quickened her pace. Surely now they could find out more about the iron dog and Mr. X, the man with the mirror sunglasses.
    “Did they put an ad in the paper?” Cindy asked Mrs. Peabody. She was sure that she would have seen it if anyone had—she always read everything in the newspaper.
    Mrs. Peabody shook her head. “There was a sign in the bakery window this morning. ‘Sale of Household Goods, Neighbors and Friends Welcome,’ it said. And it gave that address. And the funny thing is that it’s old Mrs. Wellington’s house. And she hasn’t even been living there. Not for weeks, mind you. Where is she? And who’s selling her things? That’s what I’d like to know, and that’s what I’m going to find out.”
    She leaned closer to Cindy and said, “There’s something funny going on. Otherwise, why would they be selling her things?” Mrs. Peabody sniffed and crossed the street to the red house.
    Cindy could see that