The following is a Whodunit by Hy Conrad featuring Jonah Bixby, a twelve-year-old crime solver and son of a police detective. Can you solve the crime?
"Mom, please, I want to go," Jonah insisted. "We must have something up here that's old and interesting."
Jonah and his mother were in the attic, searching through the piles of clothes and knickknacks and discarded furniture. Carol Bixby sighed as she dusted away a layer of cobwebs. "I don't think Traveling Treasures is going to be interested in your father's moldy neckties," she said, moving aside a box.
"How about these bookends?" Jonah held up a pair of small iron roosters. "They're old and ugly, so they must be valuable." He dusted them off. "What do you say?"
Every Sunday night, Jonah and his mother sat down and watched Traveling Treasures, where hundreds of people brought in their family heirlooms and had them appraised by a platoon of experts. This week, the TV show was filming in Indianapolis, just an hour's drive away. From the minute Jonah saw the announcement on the news, he'd been bugging his mother to go.
"All right," Carol conceded. "It'll be a nice day trip. But you can't be disappointed."
Jonah promised. He really just wanted to do it for the fun and the experience. But by Saturday afternoon, after driving to the Convention Center and waiting in four different lines, it was a major letdown when an antiques dealer from New York evaluated his rooster bookends. The pieces were late Victorian, mass-produced, and worth about ten dollars each.
"There weren't even any cameras around," Jonah sulked.
"They save the cameras for the good stuff," Carol said with a smile. "Come on. Let's see who got lucky."
For the rest of the day, they wandered the hall, looking on as the resident experts appraised everything from baseball cards to gold chandeliers. Carol and Jonah were just approaching the exit when one particular item caught Carol's eye. "Oh, look," she said. "There's a terrific desk. Let's see what it's worth."
They stopped and watched as the furniture expert spoke to the desk's owner, a young woman. "It's an Edwardian piece," he explained somewhat pompously. "Made in England. Fairly common." He ran a hand under the front of the huge wooden desk. "I think it has a hidden drawer."
"Really?" the young owner said. "The desk belonged to my great grandmother, and I never..."