Casey Templeton Mysteries 2-Book Bundle. Gwen Molnar

gotta go, bro,” Hank said, slipping a memory stick into his pocket. “See you later.”

      Alone again and frustrated at not being able to help in the investigation, Casey reviewed everything he knew so far carefully. Then he thought about the scraps of paper he had used to light the fire in the Willson place. Had anything been written on them? He couldn’t recall.

      He did remember thinking when he first saw the long, thin brass screws going through the crossed boards that they weren’t the type a person could find just anywhere. For their science project he and Bryan had talked to the people at Sanford’s Hardware on Main Street in Richford. Mr. Sanford himself had brought out a catalogue and ordered the screws from it. Casey and Bryan had needed only six of the minimum order of a dozen. Maybe the other six had been sold locally. Perhaps the ones in the door were those very screws. If they were, it would mean two things: the screws had been put in the door recently, and someone at the hardware store might recall who had bought them. He wondered what excuse he could use to ask the staff at Sanford’s.

      Casey closed his eyes and focused on the night at the Willson house. Step by step he pictured everything that had happened: Mr. Deverell lying in the snow, his hunt for something to pull him on — the drapes! No one on the investigation team had seen them because Casey had burned them. But he had known when he pulled them open the afternoon of the attack that they had been new. And he could remember the pattern clearly. If he couldn’t trace the long brass screws, he might be able to find out who had bought the drapes and where. They would have been especially made for the Willson front window, he figured, because it was an odd shape — wide but not very high. He was pretty sure Richford didn’t have a store that made drapes.

      “Come to supper, Casey. Now!”

      Casey figured his dad’s loud, deep voice could be heard all over town.

      ”Coming!” he shouted, wishing Hank was eating at home for a change so his parents wouldn’t have just him to concentrate on. He put away his notebook, feeling pretty upbeat. At least he had a couple of ideas he could explore on his own.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      As they settled down to eat, Casey said to his mother, “I hate the drapes in my room. They must have been some girl’s. I’d like to choose my own.”

      “I wondered,” his mother said, “how long you’d put up with them. We’ll be going into Fraserville on Saturday. Why don’t you come and choose your pattern at Vance’s Draperies? I’ll put the ones you have now in the new guest room — when Dad finally finishes it.”

      Casey’s grandmother was coming for a visit as soon as the guest room was done, and Casey figured that might have something to do with how long his father was taking on the job.

      “Why not get them at Thrift Mart right here in Richford?” his dad asked. “Vance’s will be expensive.”

      “Not necessarily,” Mrs. Templeton said. “Casey has a corner window that’ll be tricky finding ready-made drapes to fit, and Vance’s is having a huge sale. We’ll come off just fine. And speaking of the guest room, Colin, I got a note from Mother today. She’s planning her Christmas itinerary and wants to visit us for New Year’s.”

      “Oh …” Casey’s father didn’t look happy.

      “Why not get Casey to give you a hand with the guest room?” his mother suggested. “You’d like to help your dad, wouldn’t you, Casey?”

      “Well … sure,” Casey said slowly. “What would I be doing?”

      “Mainly be a gofer and keep me company once in a while,” his dad said. “I’d be grateful. I hate working down there alone.”

      This was a side of his father Casey had never seen. “Well, sure, Dad. I’ll keep you company when I can. I’ll be free tonight after supper. I don’t have any homework that has to be done by tomorrow.”

      His father beamed, genuinely happy. “That’ll be great. We can survey the situation.”

      Casey caught his mother smiling to herself. Then his mind returned to the puzzle of who had bought the new drapes for the Willson Place. In just two days he would have his answer. He could see the write-up in all the newspapers:

      Knightly Charles Templeton, known to all as Casey, gave the Royal Canadian Mounted Police vital information they needed to track down the attackers of Mr. Semple Deverell, science teacher at the Clarence Wilberforce Willson High School in Richford, Alberta, at the headquarters of the hate ring just outside the town. Casey’s contribution was the name of the person who had recently purchased drapes for the lower front windows of the Old Willson Place where the sophisticated apparatus and headquarters of the hate organization were discovered.

      “Your mother has asked you three times now, Casey, if you’d like more lasagna,” his father was saying. “Come down to Earth and answer.”

      “Sorry, Mom,” Casey said. “Yes, I’d like a lot more lasagna, please.”

      An hour later Casey and his dad were on the lower level, studying the roughed-in guest room and adjoining bath. The Templeton house was a classic forty-year-old split level — it actually had five levels, including a small one over the back patio, which had beds for Jake and Billy when they came for holidays. The room he and his dad were now examining had the makings of a perfect guest room with its own entrance from the patio. Casey looked around. One day he planned to have this room, so it wasn’t a bad idea to have some input into how it was completed.

      “One thing I’m going to do,” his father told him, “is soundproof this room.”

      “Sounds good, but with Grandma down here we should have a way of hearing her if she needs help.”

      “We can rig up something, but we’ve got to keep the noise of her television, radio, and stereo down for the rest of us.”

      Casey nodded. “Yeah, I remember the last time she stayed with us she had one of the regular bedrooms and we could hear everything. And she played those CDs of hers so loud!”

      “Exactly. It was one of the few times I was home in a year, and I couldn’t get a decent night’s sleep.”

      “You like Grandma, though, don’t you?”

      “I love her. She’s got the same strong character your mother has, but she likes her gadgets, brings what she wants, like her laptop, and wants things her way. This room will be perfect … if we ever get it done.”

      They were each sitting on a sawhorse, and Casey watched as his father gazed at the room. “Dad, are you glad to be retired?” It had never occurred to him before that his father might not be happy. Heavy silence filled the unfinished room. It went on so long that Casey wondered if his dad had heard his question.

      “I guess I am, Casey. I’ve been telling myself for years it’s what I wanted to do. But my life’s been action-oriented for so long that it’s hard to slow down so completely. You know your mom and I always planned to come back to Richford, but honestly, Casey …”

      “Is it this hate business that’s put you off?”

      “Well, partly. I’m disappointed with what’s going on in town but, on the other hand, I’m grateful to be involved in the investigation.” His father thought for a moment, then added, “But when that’s over, then what? I mean, I’ve got this room to do, and now that you’re going to give me a hand, I think I’ll feel more like getting it done, but again, then what? I’ve got to find something else to do.”

      “Does Mom know how you feel?”

      “Sure. She says we don’t have to stay here if I can’t find something worthwhile to do, not just something that’s busywork. You see, Casey, all those years on the force I never took time for any hobbies. I’ve thought some about writing my memoirs, but I know I never will. I honestly don’t know …” Again silence filled the room.

      A change of subject was called for. “Hey,