Mini Mystery

Someone has stolen Bonnie’s new coffeemaker— can Angela Potts solve the mystery?

Q. Why couldn’t the bicycle stand up by itself?

A. It was two-tired!

Angela Potts didn’t travel much. But when her cousin Bonnie Findley and her husband invited Angela on a Caribbean cruise, she gave in. It was only for three days, and they’d sail from and return to New Orleans, just four hours south.

The three of them were in her cousin’s driveway, about to pile into the car for the trip, when Bonnie said, “I just remembered— my new coffeemaker’s supposed to be delivered tomorrow.”

“Here at the house?” Angela asked.

“Yep. UPS.” Bonnie looked at her husband. “Should I ask the new lady, next door?”

“Why not? She said to let her know if we ever needed anything.”

Bonnie punched a number into her phone. After a moment’s wait, she said, “Cora? This is Bonnie Findley. We’re headed out of town for several days, and I’ve ordered a package to be delivered to the house tomorrow. It’ll be a big plain brown box— could you watch for it, pick it up off our porch and hold it for us? Oh, great—thanks!”

And they were off. The time passed quickly, as it always does on vacation, and the three of them returned the following Friday. But

as soon as they arrived at the Findleys’ house Cora Keller hurried over, looking worried. “What’s the matter?” Bonnie asked her.

It’s your package. It came, just like you expected—but it disappeared. I saw the UPS truck arrive, but I was doing laundry and didn’t come to fetch the package right away. When I did—there was nothing on your porch.” “Oh no. Let me just check on something.” Bonnie looked on her computer, verified that the order had indeed been delivered, and said, “It came, all right. Somebody must’ve stolen it.” “I was afraid that might have been what happened. I really shouldn’t have delayed for those few minutes.” Angela said, “Did you see anybody else around, at the time?”

Cora nodded; she’d obviously given it some thought. “Yes. Three people. Mr. Tyson’s yardman was weeding around the flower beds, a woman was jogging on the sidewalk and the man across the street was walking out to his mailbox with a letter. I suppose any of them could’ve grabbed the box.”

“Do you know their names?” “No,” Cora said. “I know the neighbor she saw mailing the letter,” Bonnie said. “Last name’s Buckley. Older guy, doesn’t socialize much.”

“What about the jogger?” Angela asked.

“A young lady, blondish ponytail, blue running suit,” Cora said. “I don’t remember seeing her before.”

“And the guy who was weeding?”

“The yardman? Let’s see—he was big, dark hair, red T-shirt, blue jeans. Mr. Tyson could probably give us his name.” Cora paused. “The yard guy would be the prime suspect, since a coffeemaker’d be heavy to carry, right? Besides, he’d be the one most apt to grab it unnoticed after the jogger had run by and Mr. Buckley had gone inside.”

Angela stayed quiet a moment, deep in thought.

“I just wish I had come right over when the truck got here,” Cora said. “It never occurred to me that something like this would happen.”

“One never knows, these days,” Bonnie said. “It could’ve been anybody.”

“Not really.” Angela said, frowning. “I know who stole the package.”

Together, Cora and both Findleys said, “Who was it?”