Mystery of the Stolen Pearl Necklace

One bright and beautiful morning, I was in my detective club house a.k.a. my tree house with my best friend Lydia. “Lacy, what’s wrong?” asked Lydia curiously, nothing was bothering her after all, and Lydia is the type of person who assumes you’re happy as long as she is, unlike me who knows that everyone has bad times at different times. "Well, when was the last time we solved a mystery around here?” I replied with a heavy sigh. “Oh, that,” Lydia answered emphasizing that she understood, now she was sad too. For about three minutes we just lay there, looking at the ceiling in silence. Then, a loud bang broke the silence. (Bang, bang, bang.) “Hello?” I said. “Necklace, necklace, NECKLACE,” Widow Masel said as she invited herself in. “What?” asked Lydia looking at Widow Masel as though she was from some far away galaxy. Speak English!” I said blowing a bubble with my Big Red gum, I always do that when I feel that there is a mystery blowing our way, and this time, I was right, a mystery was blowing our way. “Okay, you guys remember my necklace?” asked 80-year-old widow Masel who already knew the answer. “Yep,” said Lydia casually. “Mmhm” I replied, Widow Masel always wore the same pearl necklace. “Well, that was a very important necklace to me, because my husband gave it to me... back when I had one that is,” she said. A small tear developed in her eye. “Okay, what about it?” I asked evidently not noticing the tear. “W-well, it’s STOLEN,”