The Mystery at Maypenny's

by Campbell, Julie

  Honey stared at the ground for a moment, thinking about what Trixie had said. Usually, her sandy-haired friend’s hunches were good ones. Sometimes, though, they got her into trouble. “All right,” Honey agreed finally. “Let’s try to call David Maypenny from the booth outside Mr. Lytell’s store.”

  The girls urged their horses into a canter, and the restless animals took off eagerly.

  At Mr. Lytell’s, Trixie handed her crumpled dollar to Honey. “You go inside and get some change for the telephone,” she said. “If I go, he’ll ask me a lot of questions, and he’ll get more information out of me than I want to give.”

  Honey giggled as she took the dollar. “You make it sound as if he gives you the third degree with spotlights shining in your eyes to make you talk.”

  Trixie, too, started to giggle. “That’s how it feels sometimes. Remember when I left my diamond ring with him so he’d hold Brian’s jalopy until we earned back the money he needed to pay for it? Mr. Lytell peered at me through those wire-rimmed glasses of his and asked me all kinds of questions about where I’d gotten the ring and whether my parents knew about it. I just wanted to turn and run out of the store.”

  “But you didn’t,” Honey said loyally. “You got him to take the ring, and you got him to promise not to say anything about it, even though Mr. Lytell likes to gossip more than anything. You managed to do all that because you knew how much Brian wanted that car.“

  “Brian deserved that car,” Trixie said. “He scrimped and saved to get the money together to pay for it. Then, when the Bob-White clubhouse needed a new roof, he donated the money without a second thought. I could never be that unselfish. All I did was let Mr. Lytell keep my ring for a week. That’s no big sacrifice. I never wear it, anyway.”

  “Well, I think it was perfectly perfect of you to do that for Brian. So—” Honey giggled again as she dismounted and handed Strawberry’s reins to Trixie. “I guess the least I can do is go inside and get some change.” Honey ran to the door, then checked herself and opened it slowly and with dignity.

  “Honey won’t have any trouble with Mr. Lytell,” Trixie said to Susie. “Mr. Lytell likes Honey because she’s a young lady, not a tomboy like I am. He likes Miss Trask, too. He wouldn’t do anything to Honey that would make Miss Trask mad at him.”

  Sure enough, Honey was already emerging from the store, holding out a handful of change for Trixie to see.

  Trixie handed Strawberry’s reins back to Honey and climbed down from the saddle. The girls led their horses to the phone booth, where Trixie handed her horse’s reins to Honey and went inside.

  First she dialed long-distance directory assistance and asked for the number of David May-penny in New York City. She held her breath while the operator looked it up, hoping that there wasn’t more than one David Maypenny. She had no idea what his address was—or his middle initial. And she didn’t have enough change to waste on any calls to the wrong David Maypenny.

  To Trixie’s relief, the operator found only one David Maypenny, and she gave Trixie the number. Trixie repeated it loudly enough for Honey to hear, wishing she’d had her friend ask Mr. Lytell for paper and a pencil.

  Trixie dialed 0, the area code, and the number. As the ringing started, a recorded voice asked her to deposit money for the first three minutes. Trixie fed most of her change into the telephone and hoped that David Maypenny would agree to reverse the charges if she couldn’t get her whole message out in three minutes. Knowing herself, she reflected, three minutes would be just enough time to get him confused. Straightening out what she’d said would take a lot longer.

  Ten rings later, Trixie hung up. She gathered the change as it tumbled into the coin return and went outside to where Honey was waiting.

  “No answer?” Honey guessed.

  Trixie shook her head. “We can try him again later.” She felt suddenly tired and listless as the excitement of calling David Maypenny—of doing something—drained from her.

  “Should we give up and go home?” Honey asked.

  “I don’t want to,” Trixie replied. “I don’t know what else to do, though.” She looked at Honey helplessly. “Let’s go back to the ravine,” she added suddenly.

  “Oh, Trixie,” Honey wailed, “we already looked at the car once. What good will it do to go back again?”

  “I don’t know,” Trixie confessed. “I just need to feel as though I’m doing something to help Mr. Maypenny. Maybe we’ll be able to find a clue that we missed the first time. We were awfully nervous back there, after all.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be any less nervous this » time,” Honey said. “But I know what you mean about wanting to do something. I don’t feel like going home and listening to everyone talk about the town council meeting.” Honey put her left foot in the stirrup and swung up onto Strawberry’s back. “Let’s go,” she said.

  Trixie settled herself in Susie’s saddle and urged the horse into a trot. That car is hidden for a reason, she thought as she rode. I hope we can find out what the reason is.

  The fugitive ● 11

  WHAT ARE WE looking for?” Honey asked as they once again tethered their horses on the path next to the ravine.

  Trixie had been asking herself the same question as they rode, and she was prepared with the answer. “First,” she said, “we should look for damage to the car. If John Score had had an accident on his way out of town—even a flat tire—he might not have trusted anyone in Sleepyside to fix it. He might have decided to hide the car and come back for it later—or send someone else for it.”

  “Why would he hide it here?” Honey asked.

  “He was in the preserve at least twice,” Trixie reminded her. “He was at Mr. Maypenny’s the night we were there, and he came back sometime and found the duck. He’d know how quiet and deserted this part of the preserve is. He’d know it was the best place to leave his car if he didn’t want it found.”

  “All right,” Honey said. “Damage to the car is the first thing we look for. What else?”

  Trixie shifted her weight from one foot to the other impatiently. She wanted to be down in the ravine looking for clues, not up here telling Honey what to look for. She knew, however, that her friend would be less nervous if she had a definite list of things to do once they got to the car. “Second,” she continued, “we see if the car is unlocked and if there’s a key inside.”

  “I didn’t even think of that when we were down there before,” Honey said.

  “Neither did I,” Trixie admitted. “If we can get a key, we can open the trunk. We might find—” Trixie had been about to say “a body,” but she stopped herself. “We might find something in there.”

  Honey’s frightened look told Trixie her friend hadn’t been fooled. “I think we should hurry up and get to the car and start looking,” Honey said. “If we don’t go pretty soon, I’ll be so utterly terrified that I won’t dare to go at all.”

  Trixie readily agreed, and the two girls scrambled back down the bank.

  They searched the outside of the car in silence for a few moments, looking for signs of an accident. Finally Trixie stood up and arched her back to take the kinks out of it. “This old car is so beat up it’s hard to tell, but I don’t think there’s any damage bad enough to keep John from driving it out of town.”

  “I didn’t see anything,” Honey said. “This rear tire is a little low, but it certainly isn’t flat. The rear fender is dented, too, but it’s already started to rust, which means the dent has been there for quite a while.”

  “Then it’s on to step two,” Trixie said, reaching for the door handle. The button on the handle pushed in and there was a click as the latch opened. “It wasn’t locked,” Trixie told Honey. “I feel stupid for not thinking of that before.”

  Trixie slid onto the front seat. Honey came around and stood by the open door, but she made no attempt to climb inside.

  Trixie examined the map that was spread across the passenger’s side of the front seat. “It’s a map of N
ew York State. The highway that leads to this area from the west is traced with a red marker. John Score must have followed that route when he drove here from Ohio.”

  “Maybe he was following it to get back to Ohio,” Honey said nervously, “until somebody stopped him.”

  ‘ “The same road would lead both ways,” Trixie said lightly. The same thought had occurred to her, but she didn’t want to give Honey any more cause for worry.

  “The keys aren’t in the ignition,” Trixie said. She lowered both of the visors above the windshield. “They aren’t tucked up here, either. That’s where the mechanic at the service station always leaves Daddy’s keys after he fixes the car.” Trixie wriggled off the seat until she was lying on her back under the dashboard. She groped around for a few moments, then shouted, “Aha!” Trixie wriggled back onto the seat and held out a small, flat black metal box for Honey to see. “What is it?” Honey asked.

  Trixie raised her eyebrows and gave Honey a mysterious, sidelong look. “It’s a magic box,” she said. “Look. I wave my hand over it so, slide back the top, and—presto chango, a key!” Trixie held the key triumphantly in the air. “It’s a magnetic box,” she added matter-of-factly. “It’s used to hide a spare key, in case the owner loses one.”

  “How did you know about them?” Honey asked in a tone of complete amazement.

  “Brian bought one for the jalopy right after he first got it. He was going to hide the box under the dashboard, where I just found this one. Daddy advised him against it. He said there was no point in giving car thieves a helping hand.”

  Trixie got out of the car and walked around to the trunk. Honey hesitated, then followed. Trixie put the key in the lock, took a deep breath, then turned the key and let the lid of the trunk rise.

  Trixie let out her breath in a mixture of relief and disappointment. The trunk held a mess of papers and books—but no body.

  Honey reached inside and took out one of the leaflets. “‘Your Right to a Clean Environment,’ ” she read.

  “Here’s a book called ‘Disease in Wildlife,’” Trixie said. “It’s stamped with the name and address of CAUSE on the title page.” Trixie put the book back in the trunk. “Doesn’t it seem strange to you that John Score would leave all these things in the trunk? Wouldn’t he need them for his work?”

  “He might not have had much choice,” Honey pointed out. “If he left Sleepyside by bus or on foot, he couldn’t possibly have taken all the stuff in this trunk.”

  “That’s true,” Trixie said. “But why would he have left by bus or on foot? We didn’t see any damage to the car.”

  “There are lots of things that can go wrong with a car that aren’t visible from the outside,” Honey said. “Brian’s jalopy always looks perfect from the outside, because he keeps it washed and waxed and polished. But if he weren’t such a good mechanic, he wouldn’t be able to get it started half the time.”

  “That’s true,” Trixie said again. She sighed. “I guess steps one and two didn’t give us any new clues to work with.”

  “What’s step three?” Honey demanded.

  Trixie looked at her friend appreciatively. Honey’s nervousness had almost vanished. Now her curiosity, which was almost equal to Trixie’s, was taking over.

  “Step three,” Trixie said musingly. “I hadn’t gone that far. I was sure we’d find something if we got inside the car.” She looked around. “I think step three is to walk down this ravine a way and see where it leads.”

  “All right,” Honey said eagerly.

  Trixie closed the trunk, put the key back in the magnetic box, and put the box back beneath the dashboard. Then the girls set off down the ravine.

  The layers of fallen leaves provided a springy carpet under their feet, and the shaded ravine was comfortably cool. The girls felt increasingly relaxed as they walked on, their whispers giving way to normal conversation.

  Suddenly Trixie stopped and grabbed Honey’s arm, pointing to a small clearing at their right.

  “It’s a tent!” Honey exclaimed, her voice lowered again to a whisper.

  Trixie put a finger over her lips, dropped to a crouch, and moved silently toward the clearing. Honey followed close behind.

  Trixie was almost to the clearing when she heard a muffled scream from Honey. As she started to turn around, an arm snaked around her and a hand was clamped over her mouth.

  The owner of the arm pushed her roughly from behind, propelling her the rest of the way into the clearing. A final push sent her sprawling onto the ground, and Honey tumbled down next to her.

  Trixie quickly sat up and spun around. A few feet away, looking down at the two girls, hands on hips, was John Score.

  “What are you two doing sneaking around here?” he asked gruffly.

  Trixie stood up and began dusting herself off, buying time in which to regain her composure.

  “What are you doing here?” Score asked again.

  Trixie straightened and looked at him levelly, hoping her fear didn’t show. “I was just about to ask you the same thing,” she said.

  John Score threw back his head and began to laugh. Trixie and Honey stared at him, feeling a combination of surprise and relief.

  “Your question is a fair one,” Score said when he’d stopped laughing. “Maybe we could exchange information. Would you like to sit down?” He gestured to a sleeping bag that was spread out in front of the tent.

  Trixie and Honey sat down cross-legged on the sleeping bag. John Score sat down on the ground across from them.

  “I’ll answer your question first,” he said. “What I’m doing here, in short, is hiding out. I have been, ever since Mr. Maypenny paid my fine and got me out of jail.”

  Honey gasped, and Trixie stammered, “M-Mr. Maypenny got you out of jail?”

  John Score nodded. “I didn’t ask him to. Dan came down to the jail a few hours after I was arrested. He said he’d gone home from school and told the old man what had happened at the debate. Mr. Maypenny said it was a ‘spunky thing to do,’ and he gave Dan the money to get me out and told him to bring me back here.

  “I went to the cabin, just to say thanks, really.

  I told Mr. Maypenny what the judge had said— that I had to leave the area and that I’d be arrested again if I didn’t.

  “That upset the old man. He told me I was the only hope he had of being able to save his land from International Pine.

  “I asked him what he wanted me to do. He said he wanted me to stay on, to try to find some more evidence of the damage International Pine was doing so that he could use it to stand up to them if the rezoning went through.”

  “So you’ve been here ever since?” Trixie asked.

  “I’ve been on Mr. Maypenny’s land ever since,” John Score said. “I’ve had to move around, though, because the people from the department of wildlife have been sleuthing around. Mr. Maypenny has kept an eye on the areas they’ve searched. He moves me into them as they move out.”

  “Have you found anything so far?” Honey asked.

  John Score shook his head. “It’s been rough going, what with keeping one eye open for inspectors while I use the other to search for clues. Oh, I’ve found plenty of damage, from my point of view. There’s waste running into the river, and the plants growing by the road to the factory are turning brown from exhaust fumes. But those things all fall within the government’s allowable standards,” he said bitterly. “A little damage is okay with them, as long as it keeps the money rolling into the state in the form of taxes. I need to find a really glaring violation if I’m to shut the plant down or even prevent the expansion.”

  “We were supposed to tell you what we were doing here, after you finished telling us,” Honey remembered.

  “That’s right; you were,” John Score said.

  “We were riding out to tell Mr. Maypenny about the town council vote when we spotted your car,” Honey told him. “We couldn’t understand why you’d left it there, with all your books and leaflets in the t
runk.”

  “How did you know what was in the trunk?” Score asked sharply.

  Trixie blushed. Searching the abandoned car had seemed natural enough at the time. Now, sitting here talking to the owner, she realized that she had been trespassing. “I found the key case under the dashboard,” she told him, her eyes lowered to avoid meeting his.

  Once again, John Score started to laugh. “Mr. Maypenny told me when I first started hiding out here that the inspectors would be less likely to cause trouble than you two girl detectives. At the time, I thought he was exaggerating. I see now that he was just stating the facts.”

  “Anyway,” Honey continued quickly, “we were afraid something might have happened to you. You know—that someone who favors the expansion might have—have—”

  “Done away with me?” John Score supplied. “That assumption wasn’t too far out of line. I’ve been threatened plenty of times in the years since I started fighting to protect the environment. I’ve been run out of quite a few towns, and I’ve even been hit over the head once or twice. I’ve gotten to be pretty good at doing what I have to do to protect myself.”

  As he spoke, John Score’s eyes narrowed and his thin face took on a harsh, determined look. Trixie remembered that she and Honey had intruded on his hiding place—and that no one outside this little circle knew where they were.

  “What are you going to do with us?” she asked boldly before fear could take hold of her.

  “What am I going to do with you?” John Score repeated, looking confused. Then, understanding the thinking behind the question, he smiled. “I’m going to let you walk back up the ravine, get on your horses, and ride home, of course. When I said I do what I have to do to protect myself, I didn’t mean that I hold young women captive. I’m against violence to any living thing.”

  “Thank you,” Honey breathed.

  “You’re welcome,” John Score said wryly. “There is a favor you can do in return, if you’d like to.”