Once they were back in the shadows, Trixie blew up. “What’s the matter with you?” she snapped angrily. “I have to let them know that the doll is out there, don’t I? Now let go of me, so I can knock on the door.”
“Don’t worry, Trixie,” Mart said. “Have some faith in your smarter sibling. Let me handle this, okay?”
Trixie fumed, but stayed put, as Mart sneaked over to the driveway. He picked up a handful of pebbles, then backed into the shadows again. Taking careful aim, he tossed the handful of little rocks at the glass window.
Within a few moments, the door was flung open and Mr. Reid appeared silhouetted in the light.
“Who’s there?” he said loudly, seeing no one and taking a step out onto the landing. At this moment his foot knocked against the paper bag. “What the...”
He picked it up, ripped open the paper, and pulled out the doll. Then he began to laugh.
“Hey, Bill, get a load of this! Those thieving little teen-agers returned our dolly,” he called behind him. “Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna check and see if the contents are still there.”
They could easily make out the way he squeezed the doll’s satin skirt. Then they heard a relieved laugh.
“It’s all here, Bill,” he called inside. “All here.”
Then the door slammed behind him, and once more it was silent outside. Trixie shivered slightly and whispered to Brian, who was crouching next to her.
“Now comes the boring part.”
But the boring part didn’t last too long. Shortly the door of the shop opened again, and three men came outside. The observers could see the mist of their breath against the light shining through the door. They opened the trunks of both Cadillacs and started unloading cartons.
“Let’s get moving,” one of the men said. It was Carl Reid. “We have to bring in this paper and we don’t have all night.”
“I hate this cold weather. Why didn’t you set up this operation in Florida like I told you?” said one of the other men.
“They were on to us, that’s why,” Carl Reid said. “Now quit your noise and start unloading. Those stupid kids threw off our entire schedule.”
“Yeah, yeah. We should have started printing yesterday. But who cares?”
“Louie cares, that’s who. The pickup men have been waiting since yesterday.”
The Bob-Whites listened, stunned. Trixie, even though this was exactly what she’d suspected, was suddenly amazed at being right. And rather frightened. All along, she had half hoped Mr. Reid wasn’t involved, or that it was all an accident of some kind. Deep inside she had hoped that the plates had been hidden in the doll’s dress for years—unbeknownst to Mr. Reid or even to André. But apparently that was not the case. Not only was Mr. Reid involved, but so was she—and so were the other Bob-Whites.
Inspector Patou held his finger to his lips, and everyone stayed quietly in the shadows and waited. It felt like hours to Trixie, and her feet were numb with the cold. Just when she thought she wouldn’t be able to stand it another minute, the Inspector tapped her on the shoulder.
“It has been about forty-five minutes,” he whispered, “and judging from the sounds I hear, I think the time has come for me to make my move, as they say.”
“Good,” Trixie whispered. “We’re right with you.”
“No, no, mademoiselle,” Marcel replied. “This is no place for children. It is best for you to stay behind, thank you very much. I have only to catch him with the money, and my case is solved. But this could be a very dangerous moment.”
He held up his hand to the rest of the Bob-Whites, gesturing for them to stay behind. Crouching, he silently crossed the space separating them from the shop. Then, looking a great deal like a large scarecrow who had gotten off his pole in the farmer’s field, he climbed the steps and kicked open the door.
12 * No Escape
CROUCHED in the dark by the hedge, Trixie watched the Inspector’s gangling frame become silhouetted in the light of the door. Then, as if pulled by invisible strings, she stood up and began to run after him. She could hear the comforting sound of twelve feet scuffling behind her through the gravel, as the rest of the Bob-Whites followed her lead.
Without thinking about what she was doing, or why, she took the front steps of The Antique Barn two at a time and burst in right behind the Inspector. As her eyes adjusted to the bright light inside, she gasped.
Sitting on top of a round, antique oak table were six or seven neat stacks of freshly printed money. An open suitcase sat on the table next to the stacks. Through the door that opened into the back she caught a glimpse of the antique press. A square sheet of paper rested on its bed, and off to one side stood a man who was slicing rows of bills apart.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the three heads came up, and their jaws simultaneously dropped.
“What the…” Carl Reid growled, when he saw the intruders.
The other two men stopped what they were doing and came toward the group standing in the doorway.
Inspector Patou stepped forward quickly, separating himself from the Bob-Whites. He reached into his breast pocket and started to pull something out. Thinking he was reaching for a gun, the three men put their hands in the air.
“My name is Marcel Patou, and I am sent here from the Paris Sûreté to put you under arrest,” he said, his voice rising shrilly. He whipped out the badge and identification papers from his inside pocket. When the men realized that he held only papers and no gun, their hands came down.
As the Inspector thrust the identification at them, the papers leapt from his hand and fell to the floor.
“Hey, boss,” one of the men said. “This one’s a tough guy. I’m scared, ain’t you?”
But Carl Reid wasn’t amused. “You can’t arrest me, you dumb cop,” he snarled menacingly. He headed toward the Inspector, who was bent over, retrieving his badge. “This is the United States, and you haven’t got any jurisdiction here. You can’t touch me.
Inspector Patou stood up, with an expression of shock and outrage on his face. Slowly, his frown deepened and the creases on his forehead resembled etchings in stone.
“I most certainly can arrest you, sir,” he said slowly. “Since we are dealing here with the American dollars, I believe the American authorities will be more than happy to take you into custody. They will handle the formalities once I have turned you in. I think that perhaps your involvement with certain French criminals will make the remainder of my job much easier once I have returned to my country.”
He drew himself up to full height and glowered at the smirking faces of the men who stood in front of him.
“Just one question, Frenchie,” Carl Reid sneered. “Have you got a gun?”
As Carl Reid spoke, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a nasty-looking revolver. The Inspector hesitated a moment too long and, before he could get his gun out, all three men were pointing guns at the little group standing in the doorway.
“Gimme the gun, Frenchie!” Carl Reid said icily.
The Inspector slowly, reluctantly, handed over his gun and then raised his hands over his head. His expression was one of resignation and defeat, and the Bob-Whites were stunned. They had set out to trap some counterfeiters—and they were trapped instead!
“Tie these jerks up,” Carl Reid said wearily, gesturing at them with his thumb.
“We’ll take care of them later—on the ride to Philly.”
“Good idea, boss. You want me to put gags on them?”
“No,” Carl Reid said after a short silence. “Unless, of course, they get noisy.”
He and one accomplice kept their guns trained on the little group as the third man tied them up. Afraid to say anything, all that the Bob-Whites could do was look at each other in dismay. Brian caught Trixie’s eye, but she was unable to read his expression. Di looked as if she was about to cry as the man approached her with the rope.
Appalled, Trixie watched as, one after another, the man tied them up. First
he tied their wrists together, and then wrapped the remaining rope around their torsos, pinning their arms against their sides.
The group was powerless to prevent it from happening. Trixie desperately tried to think of something, but with two guns aimed at them, there was no alternative but to act docile.
Trixie’s mind raced. There has to be a way out of this, she thought, trying to concentrate. There are more of us than there are of them. But they have guns, and they’re tying us up. Well, they haven’t tied me up yet. I still have time to think of something.
Then suddenly she did—and it was so funny she almost burst out laughing. Lady! Of course! I’ll do what Lady does! Lady was one of the Wheelers’ horses who was very clever. She also knew exactly how to handle people. Whenever she was saddled, she “blew herself up” to a larger size. Then she “let herself out.” Naturally, a loose cinch meant the saddle would suddenly swing down to dangle loosely under her belly as soon as anyone tried to mount. You could almost hear Lady laugh each time she’d managed to fool someone. I’ll just blow myself up, Trixie thought, when he ties the rope around me. Then when I let myself out, the rope will loosen up just the way Lady’s cinch does!
At last the man came over to her. She carefully watched his face as he jerked her arms in front of her and prepared to loop the rope over her wrists. If I can get untied, she thought, I can untie the others. Then maybe we can overpower them.
She decided to give it a try. She clenched her fists and twisted her wrists slightly as the rope looped over them. If she could somehow keep the ropes loose, then there was an outside chance she could wriggle loose when no one was watching. But the man pulled the ropes painfully tight and, with a sinking feeling, Trixie despaired of ever getting loose.
She hunched her shoulders and silently inhaled, filling her lungs with air as he pulled the rope down over her shoulders, pinning her arms against her sides. I feel exactly like Lady, she thought, as the rope pulled tight around her body, but she kept herself blown up. She desperately hoped she could hold her breath till he was through.
As soon as he had finished, she relaxed slightly and exhaled. However, she kept her muscles clenched just enough so no one would see the ropes slackening.
“Now sit down on the floor!” Carl Reid commanded, once they were tied up to his satisfaction. “And no tricks!”
Knowing the intruders were no longer able to interrupt, the three men quickly went back to work. From where they were sitting, the Bob-Whites could see the press in the back room. They watched glumly as the sheets of paper were fed into the press. The man running the press handed the sheets to the other man, who hung them up to dry. It was his job also to slice the dry bills apart. Mr. Reid counted and stacked the finished money.
Suddenly Trixie felt a nudge at her back. It was Honey.
“Maybe we should start screaming,” Honey whispered in Trixie’s ear. “Maybe Mrs. De Keyser will hear us.”
“No,” Trixie whispered back. “It’s late, and she’s probably asleep. We can’t risk the chance that they’d gag us. I have a plan anyway.”
When Trixie was satisfied that the three men were totally engrossed in their work, she started to wriggle ever so slightly. To her delight, she felt the ropes slowly slip. At the same time, she worked her wrists back and forth, trying to open up more slack. Working quietly for about fifteen minutes, she was finally able to get one hand free.
With a glance of warning at the others, she slowly began to shift her position toward Inspector Patou. Each time Carl Reid walked by with a stack of money, Trixie stopped moving, but at last she reached her goal.
Making as little noise as possible, she started to work on the knot behind the Inspector’s back.
But trying to untie a thick knot with one hand was harder than Trixie had figured. Now I know how Mrs. De Keyser feels, she thought. This is going to take forever, and I don’t have forever. These guys are almost finished, and then we’ll be completely up the creek!
She was working the knot feverishly, when she caught sight of Mart’s face. He was watching her intently. He gestured with his head to the door behind him.
What’s he trying to tell me? Trixie thought, staring back at him just as intently. Then suddenly she knew! He wants me to go for help! If I can just make it out the door without anyone noticing, I can get the police! Of course! There are so many of us in this little room full of junk, they might not notice if one of us disappeared.
Slowly and quietly, Trixie wriggled her way to the door. Moving inch by inch, she kept her eyes trained on the three men in the back room. Carl Reid was the only one who came into the front part of the shop.
At last, she was within reach of the doorknob. At a moment when Carl Reid was safely in the back room, she quietly turned the knob until she felt the bolt disengage from the door jamb. Then she pushed gently on the door, hoping it wouldn’t squeak.
Luckily the door was quiet. Trixie kept her eye on Carl Reid, knowing that at any moment he would return with a new stack of bills to be banded and put in the suitcase. She decided to wait until his next trip into the back room before making her escape.
As Trixie expected, Carl Reid came into the front of the shop. He stopped for a moment after placing the bills on the table. He looked at the silent group as if realizing there was something different about them. Trixie held her breath. Unable to determine what was bothering him, he returned to the back room.
Trixie watched until she was certain all three men were engrossed in their tasks. Then she pushed the door a little further open and slid as quickly as she could out onto the landing. Her heart pounded wildly and, as she stood up, the ropes fell around her feet.
In an instant, she heard a howl of rage. Before she could disentangle her feet from the ropes, Carl Reid was at the door. His arm shot out and grabbed her jacket. Trixie tried to pull her arms out of the sleeves, but failed, and Reid dragged her back into the shop.
“So, you thought you could run off and call the cops or something, eh, kid? Well, that was a big mistake, if you don’t mind my telling you.” He pushed her back down into a sitting position, far away from the others.
“This time, I’ll tie you up myself,” he said icily, shooting a disdainful glance in Bill’s direction. “And, believe me, you won’t get out of it because I know a thing or two about tying someone up.”
Trixie saw Mart giving her a sympathetic look. He shrugged slightly, as if to say, “At least you tried!”
Better to have tried and failed, she thought, than never to have tried at all.
But Trixie had to admit Mr. Reid could certainly tie a tight knot. Not only that, he had tied her wrists behind her back instead of in front, and the ropes bit into her wrists and upper arms painfully.
Di started to cry softly. Hearing her, Brian had a look of barely controlled fury on his face as he watched Carl Reid.
Whatever happens next isn’t going to be good, Trixie thought glumly. She didn’t feel like facing the others, knowing that her sleuthing had put them all in the most horrible danger. I should have taken everyone’s advice for once and kept my nose out of this!
One fact was now inescapable: Now there was no way to save themselves.
13 * The Rescuers
JUST WHEN Trixie thought her heart would break from guilt and despair, she heard a scraping sound outside the shop. Before she knew what was happening, the door was thrown open and Sergeant Molinson burst into the room.
Behind him came two of his men. All three held drawn guns. A quick look of shock passed over their faces as they took in the scene before them—the whole Bob-White group sitting tied up on the floor, and a table piled with money in the center of the room.
It was almost more than they could accept.
Sergeant Molinson quickly assessed the situation. As the three men in the back room spun around, reaching for their guns, the Sergeant was ready for them. Holding his gun in front of his face with both hands, he went into a partial crouch.
“Lay down
the guns!” he snapped. “You’re under arrest!”
The counterfeiters placed their heavy revolvers on the floor, and the Bob-Whites heaved a collective sigh of relief. The officers with Sergeant Molinson quickly went into the back room, and slapped handcuffs on the three men.
Trixie and Mart—not to mention the rest of the Bob-Whites—wanted to be untied instantly. But only after the Sergeant was completely satisfied that the alleged perpetrators were safely under lock and key did the police turn their attention to the Bob-Whites and Inspector Patou. Then with remarkable speed, they had them all untied and standing, happily rubbing their sore wrists and flexing their stiff arms. Trixie looked around her in wonder. Two minutes ago, she’d been convinced it was all over, and now, suddenly, they were safe and sound—and all thanks to Sergeant Molinson.
“Oh, wow,” she said, turning to face him, a big grin on her face. “I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my entire life! How did you know you were supposed to come and save us?”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you finally admit it, young lady,” Sergeant Molinson said. There was a self-congratulatory smile on his face. “I saved you this time, and don’t you ever forget it! I’ve had this operation under investigation for a long time. This time, I solved the crime for you, Miss Trixie Belden.”
“This is true?” Marcel asked, stepping out from behind the rest of the Bob-Whites. “I, too, have had this operation under investigation.”
“Who in tarnation is that?” Sergeant Molinson asked, focusing on the Inspector. It was obvious that, in the heat of the moment, he’d missed the large man completely.
“Oh, Sergeant Molinson,” Trixie volunteered smugly. “This is Inspector Marcel Patou of the Paris Sûreté—that’s police— special investigations—in case you didn’t know. Anyway, he’s been following us—I mean, he’s been following these counterfeiters for ages, all the way from Paris and everything. He was helping us—I mean, actually, we were helping him catch the counterfeiters.”
The Mystery of the Antique Doll Page 9