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"It's no use, Mrs. Stoddard," I said. "We've got to have someone come to take it all apart."
"I'm so sorry, dear. It's such a cruel and vicious thing for anyone to do."
I nodded and gathered up my sheet music, and then I went to phone Mr. Wittleman to tell him so he could make other arrangements for me and find someone to repair the piano. He couldn't believe what I told him. He was outraged.
"It's an inexcusable violation," he declared. "Whoever did such a thing is barbaric."
A few minutes after I spoke with Mr. Wittleman, Aunt Bet returned with Uncle Philip and took him into the parlor to show him the piano. He shook his head and grimaced with disgust.
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"I'm sorry about this, Christie," he said. "We'll get to the bottom of it fast."
"I just spoke with Mr. Wittleman. He's getting someone to clean the keys."
"Good."
We all turned at the sound of Richard and Melanie pounding down the stairway. They both appeared in the parlor door, out of breath with excitement.
"Father," Richard said, "look what I found." He held up a small dish towel. Aunt Bet took it from him slowly.
"It's full of honey," she said. "Someone's wiped his hands in it. Where did you find this, Richard?"
"On Jefferson's side of the closet," he said smugly and nodded as if he had always known.
"That can't be," I said. "Jefferson would never do this."
"That's where I found it," Richard insisted. "You're lying. My brother wouldn't do this." Aunt Bet turned to Uncle Philip.
"Where is he?" she demanded.
"With Buster," he replied.
"Go get him this instant," she commanded. Uncle Philip glanced at me and then nodded. "No!" I shouted. "I'll go get him myself." I fixed a hateful gaze on Richard, who continued to look quite smug and confident.
I turned away and ran out of the house to fetch my little brother. It was true that Jefferson could be mischievous, but his pranks were always pranks of fun and never vicious and mean. He hated to make anyone else cry and I knew he loved me more now than ever and would never do anything to upset ne so. I found him by the tool shed. Buster had put him to work shellacking a new door. He was obviously very proud of his assignment and work.
"Jefferson, you've got to come home with me right away," I said. He looked up disappointed.
"Why?"
"Someone poured honey over the piano keys and ruined them," I said. He widened his eyes. "Richard found a dish towel on your side of the closet filled with honey and he's got Aunt Bet and Uncle Philip believing you did it."
"I did not!"
"I know you didn't. I'm sure he did it," I said. "We'll go back there and make them see the truth."
"I don't wanna," Jefferson said. "I gotta finish this door." I could see the fear in his eyes.
"It's all right, Jefferson. She won't hurt you," I promised. "I won't let her."
"If she does," he said. "I'll run away forever." "She won't. I promise."
Reluctantly, he put down the brush and wiped his hands on a rag.
"Buster's going to be mad," he muttered.
"Uncle Philip will explain what happened. Don't worry." I took his hand and we walked home.
