“You think I like this any better than you do?” said Granny, poking a needle up through a circle of stretched fabric and handing it to Tugs. “I don’t know how you managed to get yourself stranded here all day, but wipe that sour look off your face. This hurts me just as much as it does you.”

It was Thursday morning. Tugs and Granny were sitting on the davenport, dutifully trying to master a needlepoint pattern Mother Button had pulled from a box of unfinished projects under her bed. Mother Button had gone to get the pie Aunt Mina was baking for the occasion of this predicament.

After Tugs’s tale at dinner last night, she’d been admonished not to leave the house until her father took care of matters. Her mother had spent the rest of the evening lamenting — Tugs had too much freedom — and berating herself for not keeping a closer watch.

Tugs’s story about Mr. Moore had come out in a jumble.

“Why would the librarian have stock in Standard Oil?” Granny had asked.

“Dapper who?” Mother Button kept asking.

And by the time Tugs sorted out the Thompson twins next to the library and G.O. and the Rowdies in Carl’s Alley, everyone was thoroughly baffled.

“But he dresses too smartly to be a criminal,” mused Mother Button.

“Says in Tugs’s article that this Dapper Jack is a smart dresser,” conceded Father Button. “And Mr. Dostal did say there is a lot of cash in a suitcase under Mr. Moore’s bed. He’s puzzled why Mr. Moore hasn’t gone for his printing press with all that cash.” Father Button didn’t put much sway in town bigwigs, and he wouldn’t want to consult a police officer, but given Tugs’s insistence on the matter, he said he’d at least run it by mayor Corbett, since he had repaired a windmill at the mayor’s home after a storm summer before last and the mayor had said, if there was ever anything Robert Button needed . . .

“Ouch!” said Tugs. “I poked myself again.” She sucked on the offended finger and tossed the needlework on the floor.

“If you’ve been injured, I think even your mother will agree that this is too dangerous a sport,” said Granny. “What do girls like you like to do, anyhow?”

“I like to take pictures,” Tugs said. “I’ll get my Brownie.”

Tugs let Granny hold her camera and described how all the parts work.

“If that don’t beat all!” Granny exclaimed when Tugs showed her how to look through the viewfinder. “It’s like real life, only tiny.

“Help me to my feet,” Granny said. She stood and looked around the room through the camera, pausing when she came to Tugs.

“How do I take a photograph?” she said. Tugs put Granny’s finger on the shutter lever.

“Now, stand back there,” said Granny. “I’m going to capture your image.”

Tugs stood stiffly and smiled for a long moment until she heard the click.

“Now me,” Granny said. “But make me look good. Like Mary Pickford before she cut her hair.”

Granny stood up tall, one hand resting on the back of a kitchen chair. She fixed her collar and smoothed her skirt.

“How’s my hair?”

“Good,” said Tugs. She looked down through the viewfinder and stepped closer, framing just Granny’s face and shoulders. Click.

Mother Button bustled through the door and set a raspberry pie on the table.

“There,” she said. “That’s done. Now, how did this needlework get on the floor? Here, let me help you get back on track.”

“No, Corrine,” said Granny. “It was hurting my eyes, so Tugs said she would read to me. I’m just going to lie right down on this davenport and close my eyes.” She winked at Tugs as she hobbled to the sofa. “Nothing too sweet,” she said. “What do you have out from the library?”

“The Bobbsey Twins in a Great City,” said Tugs. “I’ll go get it.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you two getting along so well,” said Mother Button. “I was going to bring Ned back here to entertain you, but after I told Aunt Mina about Mr. Moore and the Rowdies, she thought it best to go find G.O. and bring him and Ned out to Uncle Elmer’s farm for a couple of days. Some hard work will keep that Lindholm boy out of trouble. His mother was in Mina’s and my class. Such a story. Such a story.”

Tugs was relieved that G.O. was away from the Rowdies, but what would happen now? She peered through her curtains at the Dostals’ house. Was Mr. Moore there right this minute? It made her cold inside just to think it. As she looked for her book, Tugs imagined her father’s meeting with mayor Corbett. Maybe the mayor would give her a ribbon for revealing Mr. Moore for a crook. Maybe there would be cake.

“Old lady ready for a story out here!” Granny hollered. Tugs grabbed her book and pulled up a chair next to Granny.

“I’m on chapter five,” she said, opening to her marked page. “‘Glorious News.’”