“What is it?” Trixie asked.
“You can keep my whereabouts a secret,” John Score replied. “Remember, I’m asking this as a favor. I’m not making a threat. You can make a beeline for the path and scream till the inspectors come, if you want to. I just wish you wouldn’t.”
Trixie and Honey exchanged nervous glances. Keeping quiet about an abandoned car was one thing. Not telling anyone that the owner of the car was hiding out in the woods, trying to find evidence that would stop the International Pine expansion, was another.
Trixie realized that for Honey, promising not to tell would be even harder. Her father and John Score were on opposite sides of the issue. There was no doubt in Trixie’s mind about what Matt Wheeler would do if he knew John Score was hiding in the woods: He’d call the police.
Seeing the girls’ reluctance, John Score added, “If you won’t keep quiet for my sake, then do it for Mr. Maypenny’s. I don’t think he could get in any trouble with the law for harboring a fugitive, but it means a lot to him right now to know there’s someone working for his side. He’d be pretty upset if I had to leave town without finding evidence to stop the expansion.”
“Well ...” Trixie said slowly, looking at Honey.
“I’m putting you on the spot, I know,” John Score said. “Let’s put a time limit on it. I want until next Wednesday. If I haven’t found any evidence by then, I’ll pack up my tent and steal away, back to Ohio. Then you can tell everybody everything. But please—give me a little more time.”
Still Trixie hesitated. She knew what her own answer would be, but she couldn’t answer for Honey. Trixie stared at the ground, not knowing what to say.
“We’ll keep quiet until Wednesday,” Honey said.
Trixie looked at her friend in surprise. Honey looked back at her calmly. Her decision had been made, and she was willing to take responsibility for it, the look said.
“All right,” Trixie agreed.
John Score rose and held out a hand to each of the girls, helping them to their feet. “Thank you,” he said. “Now, get going, before somebody hears us talking and my time runs out before I want it to.”
A Devious Plot ● 12
THE NEXT MORNING, the Beldens were having a late breakfast when the telephone rang. Mrs. Belden answered it and returned to the table. “It’s for you, Trixie,” she said. “It’s Honey.”
Trixie excused herself from the table and walked slowly to the phone. She wondered if her best friend was having second thoughts about their promise not to tell anyone about John Score.
Instead, she found Honey brimming with enthusiasm. “Jim just made the most perfectly perfect suggestion,” she said. “He thinks we should all meet at the boathouse this afternoon for a picnic. The weather forecaster is predicting a cold snap next week, and Jim thinks we should take advantage of the nice weather while we can.“
“That does sound like a ‘perfectly perfect’ idea,” Trixie agreed. “I’ll check with Brian and Mart. Oh—and with Moms, of course. I haven’t been home very much lately. I hope she doesn’t tell me I have to stay here and slave away while my brothers are out having fun at the boathouse.”
Honey laughed. “You make your mother sound like a slave driver, Trixie. She’s not like that at all.”
“I know,” Trixie said guiltily. “Moms never makes me stay home when Brian and Mart get to go somewhere. I wouldn’t blame her if she did, the way I’m always going off and leaving her with Bobby and all the housework.”
“Your mother just wants what’s best for you, Trixie. She thinks you should know how to work and how to play,” Honey said reassuringly. “Anyway, we’ll plan on seeing you at about three o’clock, unless I hear from you again. Miss Trask is having Celia make up a picnic supper, so you don’t have to bring a thing.”
“Yummy-yum!” Trixie exclaimed. “I just finished breakfast, but I’m hungry already!”
Just as Honey had predicted, Mrs. Belden readily agreed that the Bob-Whites should take advantage of the waning days of Indian summer. She also decreed, however, that Trixie should take charge of Bobby until it was time to go.
As soon as the dishes were done, Trixie took Bobby into the living room and settled down on the couch for the Sunday ritual of reading the funny papers.
But this Sunday, Bobby had found another section of the paper that interested him more than his favorite cartoon characters. “Read me this, Trixie,” he demanded, holding the section up to her.
Trixie glanced at the headline. “‘Perspective: The International Pine Controversy,’ ” she read aloud.
“What’s per— per—” Bobby stumbled over the unfamiliar word.
“Perspective,” Trixie repeated slowly. “That’s one of Mart’s tongue twisters, Bobby. I think it means seeing the way the pieces of a thing all fit together.”
“Like a puzzle?” Bobby asked.
Trixie nodded, smiling wryly. “International Pine is a lot like a puzzle, Bobby.”
“You said it was like an ice-cream cone,” Bobby said accusingly. “You said International Pine only had one ice-cream cone, and it was chocolate or vanilla but not both.”
Trixie groaned, remembering that earlier conversation. She’d been so proud of herself for putting the controversy into terms Bobby could understand. Now she realized that he’d taken every word she had said at face value. Impulsively, she reached over and gave her younger brother a hug.
Bobby quickly wriggled out of her arms. “Read to me,” he said insistently, pointing at the article.
“This part isn’t funny, like the cartoons, Bobby,” Trixie said. “Wouldn’t you rather hear the cartoons?”
Bobby stuck his lower lip out stubbornly. “This part first, then the cartoons,” he said.
Trixie sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was to read another rehash of the International Pine issue. On the other hand, reading was one of the least taxing things to do with Bobby. At least he couldn’t skin his knees or get his clothes dirty while being read to.
“ ‘Perspective: The International Pine Controversy,’ ” Trixie began again.
The section consisted mostly of pictures with short captions. There was a picture of the original International Pine factory and an aerial photograph of the land where they wanted to build the expansion. There were pictures of John Score being led off to jail, of Matt Wheeler speaking at the town council meeting, and of the council chairman announcing the tie vote.
Trixie found her own interest mounting as Bobby’s attention started to wander. Mart is right, she thought. I should pay more attention to the newspaper.
Just then Bobby asked, “Where’s the ice-cream cones? How come there’s no pictures of icecream cones?”
Trixie, laughing, put away the news section and read Bobby the comics.
When the Bob-Whites were all assembled at the boathouse that afternoon, Trixie told them about Bobby’s misunderstanding.
Her friends laughed until the tears rolled down their faces. “Poor Trixie!” Di Lynch gasped. “I can just imagine you thinking you’d cleared the whole thing up for Bobby, only to find out that you’d actually steered him clear away from the whole issue. That happens to me with the twins all the time.” Di had a set of twin brothers who were just Bobby’s age, as well as a younger set of twin sisters.
“Nonetheless,” Mart said, “it was an excellent analogy. I am amazed by your perspicuity, my dear Beatrix.”
Trixie blushed. She knew that Mart’s compliment must be genuine, because he’d balanced it by using her hated real name. “You think I’m clever because I used food for the comparison— and that’s always your favorite issue,” she retorted.
After the laughter over Trixie’s remark had subsided, Honey suggested that the Bob-Whites organize a game of volleyball. “If you could see how much food Celia packed in that picnic basket,” Honey said, “you’d know how important it is that we work up huge appetites.”
“My current gustatory desires would no doubt suffice,” Mart sai
d. “But since physical exertion will not diminish them, I would be delighted to take part.”
Jim quickly got up and busied himself with putting up the net between two trees. Trixie watched him curiously. Because of their special friendship, she and Jim were sensitive to one another’s moods. She couldn’t read his thoughts as she could Honey’s, but she knew when something was bothering him. Something was obviously bothering him this afternoon. He’d hardly spoken since the Beldens had arrived at the boathouse, and even his laughter had seemed preoccupied. Trixie hoped that Jim would tell them what was on his mind, but she knew that no amount of urging would get him to do so until he was ready.
Trixie stood up, brushed herself off, and walked to the net. “Girls against boys?” she asked, picking up the ball and twirling it challengingly.
“Why, Trixie, you surprise me,” Brian said mockingly. “I always thought you liked to win. Now here you are, practically requesting a chance to lose.”
Trixie pretended to throw the ball at Brian’s head, and he ducked, grinning.
“Brian’s right,” Jim said. “He and Mart and Dan and I have a height advantage, and we outnumber you.”
Trixie looked questioningly at Jim. It definitely wasn’t like him not to go along with a joke.
Under Trixie’s probing gaze, Jim seemed suddenly to realize that her challenge had been a joke. Flustered, he tried to recover. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “We will graciously consent to lend you one of our esteemed selves for the duration of the game. How about it, guys? Who wants to be an honorary girl?”
Mart groaned and turned his back to avoid being picked. Dan grinned shyly. Brian shrugged and walked to the other side of the net. “I’ve always wanted to see how the other half lives,” he said.
“All set?” Trixie asked, looking around at her teammates. “Volley for serve,” she said, tossing the ball into the air.
A half hour later, the seven red-faced, exhausted Bob-Whites collapsed on the ground around the picnic basket.
“I don’t think I like being a girl,” Brian panted. “It’s too tiring.”
“Being a boy isn’t exactly relaxing when it means playing against female demons like you,” Dan replied.
“At least we won,” Jim said.
“Only by two points,” Honey retorted. “If I were two inches taller, you wouldn’t have won at all.”
“Cease and desist!” Mart ordered. “We do not need post-competition commentary. We need sustenance!”
Trixie rose to her knees and crawled to the picnic basket. “If you want to eat, you’d better help us unpack the lunch,” she threatened, handing Mart a bundle of plastic knives, forks, and spoons.
It took only a few minutes to have Celia’s well-packed lunch spread out on the blanket. She had included roast beef and chicken sandwiches, vegetables and dip, potato salad, and a luscious angel food cake for dessert.
Mart grabbed a sandwich with each hand as soon as Di had removed the foil covering from the plate. He looked from one to the other as if he couldn’t figure out where to start. Finally, he took a huge bite out of the chicken sandwich, chewed and swallowed, then rolled his eyes to express his happiness before taking a bite of roast beef.
“Celia’s picnic lunches are super scrumptious, aren’t they?” Honey asked, helping herself to potato salad and a single sandwich.
Trixie nodded, her mouth too full to speak. She was watching Jim, who had waited until the others started eating before helping himself to the food. Now he was staring at his full plate, poking holes in his potato salad with his fork.
Trixie swallowed and started to take another bite. Instead, she put her fork back on her plate and blurted impulsively, “Jim, what’s been bothering you all day?”
Jim looked up, startled. An angry look crossed his face, as if he felt his privacy had been invaded. Then he smiled. “I can’t fool you, can I, Trixie? Something has been bothering me, but I’m not sure I should tell you about it.”
“Why not?” Trixie demanded.
“Oh, Jim, you can tell us,” Honey urged. “We have to trust one another, or there’s no point in even having a club like the Bob-Whites.”
Jim hesitated. “I suppose you’re right. I’ve been holding back partly because I didn’t want to worry you. Now that you know I’m holding back, you’ll probably worry even more if I don’t tell. You have to promise to keep this a secret, though.”
“We promise,” Trixie said quickly. “What is it?”
Jim set down his plate and folded his hands. “Just after Honey called you about the cookout, I got a call from the head of the state wildlife department. He asked if he could come out to the house and talk to me. When he got there, he had a map with him. The map shows the locations of all the ducks that have been found by the inspectors. He asked me to show him where I’d found those first two ducks we sent to the lab.
“He marked those two places on the map, then he held the map up and told me to take a look at it. He asked me if there was anything that struck me right away.”
“Was there?” Trixie asked as Jim paused for a moment.
Jim nodded. “It didn’t take an expert to spot it. I found two ducks Friday night. The inspectors found three on Saturday morning and three more this morning. The two I found were a hundred feet apart. That’s just about how much distance separated the three the inspectors found yesterday and today. On the map, it looks like three sets of ducks—all close together and all near a path.”
“Do you mean the inspector thinks his crew isn’t doing a very good job of finding the ducks?” Di Lynch asked.
Jim shook his head. “His people are experts. If that’s all they found, it means that’s all there were.”
“That sounds like good news to me,” Dan said. “The ducks I found were close to the path, too. I figured that meant there were a lot down in the woods. If there aren’t, it means the epidemic is smaller than we thought.”
“It means there isn’t an epidemic at all!” Jim almost shouted, his patience exhausted by his friends’ interruptions. “The department head is almost sure those ducks are being planted!”
There was a moment of silence before Di Lynch said, “Oh, Jim, I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand.”
Jim smiled at her gently. “I’m the one who should be sorry—for shouting like that. I guess the news was upsetting me more than I’d realized. It’s probably good that I got it out. Maybe now I can explain calmly.”
Jim took a deep breath before he continued. “The ducks are being planted. Somebody, somehow, has got hold of a small quantity of botulism toxin. They’re inoculating the ducks with it and putting them in the woods after they’re dead—putting them close to the paths so they’ll be found.”
“That toxin can’t be easy to get,” Brian observed.
“It isn’t,” Jim said. “That, in a way, is the best break in the case so far. Only a few labs across the country keep a supply. If a check shows that any of it has been stolen recently, it will put us that much closer to finding out who the culprit is.”
“I still don’t understand,” Di Lynch said, tossing her long black hair. “Why would somebody plant the ducks?”
“There are two possibilities,” Jim said, “as there are in everything having to do with the International Pine expansion.
“One possibility is that somebody who favors the expansion wants to destroy the preserve’s value as a game refuge. The other possibility is that someone who opposes the expansion wants to make International Pine look bad, by making it look as though it’s their factory that’s causing the ‘epidemic.’ ”
Trixie suddenly felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach. She knew someone who wanted to make International Pine look bad. That someone had a book on wildlife diseases that would probably tell all about botulism. That someone was hiding out in the preserve—and she and Honey had promised not to tell anyone that he was there! Trixie sneaked a look at Honey and saw that her friend was thinking the same thing.
>
“What are you thinking, Trixie?” Jim asked sharply.
Trixie looked up and saw Jim’s green eyes looking back at her suspiciously. She blushed and tried frantically to think of something to say.
“Trixie is just shocked to think that someone would murder those poor ducks in order to prove their own point of view. Isn’t that right, Trixie?” Honey prompted.
Trixie gulped and nodded silently.
“It’s bad news, all right,” Brian said. “I just hope they catch whoever it is—and soon.”
Suddenly Trixie stood up. “I—I don’t feel much like eating cake right now,” she said truthfully. “I think I’ll go home. Honey, would you walk with me?”
“Of course,” Honey said, scrambling to her feet. “Di, would you mind very much staying here and helping the boys pack the picnic basket?
They’ll never manage to do it without spilling or breaking something.”
Di nodded, but her violet eyes reflected her hurt at being left out.
Trixie walked away as slowly as her impatience would allow. As soon as they were out of sight—and hearing—of the others, she stopped and turned to Honey, grabbing both of her arms. “John Score is poisoning those ducks,” she said in a rasping whisper.
Honey’s hazel eyes brimmed with tears. “Oh, Trix, I know! I knew it as soon as Jim said it could be somebody who opposes the expansion. What are we going to do?”
“We have to catch him in the act. Don’t you see, Honey? We promised not to tell anybody we saw John Score in the woods. We didn’t promise not to tell anyone we saw him planting dead ducks. If we catch him red-handed, we can tell the wildlife department inspectors about it without breaking our promise.”
Honey nodded. “I can understand that,” she said. “But I don’t understand how we can catch him.”
Trixie thought for a moment. “We’ll sneak out late tonight and go to his camp. Then we’ll just wait. He must plant those ducks at night; that’s the only time those woods aren’t swarming with inspectors. If we wait long enough, we’ll see something that will prove he’s guilty. I just know it.”
The Mystery at Maypenny's Page 11