The Mystery of the Antique Doll

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The Mystery of the Antique Doll Page 10

by Campbell, Julie


  Trixie had to stop to catch her breath and organize her thoughts. As often happened when she was overexcited, her mouth got going faster than her brain and she got a little mixed up. But she had a good excuse, considering all she’d been through in the last three hours! Before she was able to finish her explanation, however, the Inspector began to speak for himself.

  “Sergeant Molinson,” he said, extending his hand. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. If you wish, I have here the identification.”

  Sergeant Molinson carefully scrutinized the papers, then handed them back.

  “Yes,” he continued as Sergeant Molinson stared thoughtfully at him. “I have been on this case for a year. But truly, it all began in Paris many, many years ago. You see, in 1824 Joseph Niepce, the partner of Louis Daguerre, made the first metal engraving by photography. So, you see, it is an obvious conclusion that the highest quality plates should come from Paris. Unfortunately, high quality plates can be used for many things— not all of them legal.”

  He stopped briefly and directed a baleful glare in the direction of the three men. None of them returned his gaze.

  “There is in Paris a little shop which is the conduit for these particular illegal plates. They make engravings of currencies of all nations. I had the good fortune to be assigned to watch comings and goings on the day when these two young ladies came into the store.” He gestured briefly at Trixie and Honey. While Sergeant Molinson looked at them in surprise, the Inspector continued. “I followed them all the way from Paris, and they led me right to these men.”

  “That’s right, Sergeant Molinson,” Trixie managed to get in. “But we didn’t know that you were also investigating. What led you to be suspicious of The Antique Barn?”

  Sergeant Molinson was annoyed at her question. “I don’t have to divulge my sources to a kid,” he snapped. “And furthermore...”

  But just as he began to shake a warning finger at Trixie, the door of the shop burst open once again.

  “Well, thank goodness,” said a distraught Mrs. De Keyser, as she stomped into the room. She was dressed in a fuzzy blue bathrobe, her hair hanging loose down her back. She brandished a crowbar in her good hand. “It’s about time you boys showed up! I called you a good hour ago!”

  Trixie gasped, and Sergeant Molinson’s face turned beet-red.

  “It was a burglary, right?” Mrs. De Keyser continued. “I knew it! All those people sneaking around in the bushes! What in heaven’s name took you so long?”

  “Actually,” Mart said, “he was right on time. The movie let out about five minutes ago.”

  “The movie?” Mrs. De Keyser asked. “What movie?”

  “Oh, Mrs. De Keyser,” Trixie said. “That’s just my brother Mart. Pay no attention to him. It’s a private joke.”

  “Oh, I know Mart,” Mrs. De Keyser said. “And I know these other two nice young men as well.” She looked around the room

  in bewilderment. “But what on earth are all you children doing here? And why have you put handcuffs on poor Mr. Reid? Sergeant Molinson, I assure you that Mr. Reid would hardly burglarize his own shop. Really!”

  “Sorry ma’am,” Sergeant Molinson said, “but I’m afraid that what was going on in here wasn’t exactly a burglary. Unfortunately, I think you’re going to have to find a new tenant. This Mr. Reid here happened to be part of a counterfeiting scam. They were in there printing up nice new phony twenties. See?”

  He held a bundle of the offending articles up for Mrs. De Keyser to see. She gasped, and promptly dropped the crowbar. It landed with a resounding clang, and the noise made everyone jump.

  “Heavenly days!” she said. “That means I’m an accomplice! After all, it was happening on my property, wasn’t it?”

  “Don’t worry, ma’am,” Sergeant Molinson said kindly. “You are in no way implicated. Now we have some work to do, if you’ll excuse us.”

  “If you don’t mind, Sergeant,” the Inspector said, “I believe I should accompany you while you do the paper work. This group is wanted internationally as well. They might be inclined to name some of their accomplices on the other side of the Atlantic.”

  “Right,” Sergeant Molinson said. “And you kids better get on home. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

  “Don’t you need us to testify or make a deposition?” Trixie asked hopefully. “I mean, we’re all witnesses. And we were the ones who figured it out in the first place.”

  “That’s right, officer,” Honey said cheerfully. “We found the printing plates inside the doll’s dress—you know, the doll we picked up for Mr. Reid in Paris—and that’s when Trixie decided to stake out the store and catch Mr. Reid in the act of committing the crime.”

  “I see,” Sergeant Molinson said. “Well, Inspector Patou here can fill me in on everything. If we need you, we’ll call you. Now you should be getting on home, kids. It’s late.”

  “He’s right, Trixie,” Brian said calmly. “Our time’s about up. That movie let out a little while ago, and we still have to walk back home.”

  “Couldn’t we say we stopped for hamburgers?” Mart asked hopefully.

  “We could say anything we wanted,” Di said, giggling. “But that wouldn’t get us to Wimpy’s.”

  “She’s right, Mart,” Dan said. “No wheels, no Wimpy’s.”

  “Are you hungry, you poor things?” Mrs. De Keyser said. “After what you’ve accomplished this evening, you certainly deserve a snack.”

  “But Mrs. De Keyser—” Trixie said.

  “No buts about it, young lady,” the older woman interrupted. “I want you all to come over right this minute. I’ll fix you some nice hot chocolate. And it just so happens that a neighbor brought me a dozen blueberry buns this afternoon. That’s more than I can eat myself.”

  “Here, here!” Mart said happily. “And pay no attention to my sister, ma’am. She doesn’t have the same needs that I have!”

  The Bob-Whites watched solemnly as Carl Reid and his accomplices were handed into the police cars. Inspector Patou got in with Sergeant Molinson, and the little cavalcade wound onto Glen Road and headed for town.

  Mrs. De Keyser led the Bob-Whites into her big kitchen to a chorus of hysterical barking from Willy. She listened to the whole story as she bustled around like a mother hen. With Honey and Trixie’s help, she prepared hot chocolate and heated up blueberry buns in her oven.

  The long story they told was punctuated with her little gasps of dismay and expressions of surprise.

  Feeling a good deal warmer, and with pleasantly full stomachs, the weary Bob-Whites set out for their respective houses.

  Mart, Brian, and Trixie said good-night to Dan and Di at the foot of the driveway to the Lynch estate. Dan was going to walk Di home before continuing on to the cabin he shared with Mr. Maypenny. Then Honey and Jim went up the driveway to the Manor House.

  “Well, Trixie,” said Mart as they trudged up the driveway to Crabapple Farm. “You and your sleuthing almost got us polished off this time. Think perhaps you’d consider retiring early?”

  “Not a chance, Mart, ol’ buddy,” Trixie chortled. “If it hadn’t been for me, you never would have gotten an opportunity to sample those blueberry buns. Stick with me, kid, and I’ll show you all the good things in life!”

  “If I live long enough,” came his snappy reply.

  The three contented Bob-Whites let themselves into the house as quietly as possible. But, to their surprise, Helen Belden and her husband were sitting up in the living room, watching the dancing flames in the fireplace.

  “How was the movie?” Mrs. Belden asked sleepily.

  “Very exciting,” Trixie answered. “Actually, I can’t tell you how exciting it was!”

  “How lovely, dear,” her mother replied fondly. “I’m so glad you all had such a nice time.”

  “Well, I don’t know about nice,” said Trixie with a pixyish smile, “but it was exciting!

  Then she climbed the stairs to her room, with a smile on her f
ace.

  14 * The Sergeant’s Commendation

  IN THE SEVERAL WEEKS since The Antique Barn closed its doors for good, Thanksgiving had come and gone. The Bob-Whites were now busy getting ready for Christmas. With the help of Dan Mangan, Brian had installed a small wood-burning stove in the clubhouse. It had been given to them by Mrs. De Keyser. She had found it in her cellar shortly after the incident in the shop.

  “Oh, I really have no need of it now,” she’d said. “It was used in the days before central heating was installed in the house.”

  Now, thanks to Mrs. De Keyser, they could meet in their clubhouse during the winter, and it was a good thing, too. It made a perfect place to work on their Christmas gifts— at least the ones that weren’t for other Bob-Whites.

  Mart was building a large wooden dump truck for Bobby, and he’d also sent away for plans on how to build a giant wooden salad bowl. It was two feet in diameter, and he was planning to present it to his mother— providing he could figure out the directions. They had turned out to be a lot more complicated than he’d expected.

  Trixie, who hadn’t arrived at the clubhouse yet, was knitting long, brightly colored scarfs for everyone she could think of. She had so much knitting to do as a result that she was certain her fingers would drop off.

  Honey had decided to sew silk neckties for all the men and boys, and make sachets for the women with rose-petal potpourri. Carefully choosing rose petals after the morning dew had been dried by the sun, she had mixed them with special essences and oils. Then they had been set aside to get stronger. Now she was sewing little satin cases which she was planning to stuff with the scented, dried flowers.

  Dan was whittling small wooden figures; Jim was binding together blank pages to make personal diaries; and Di was making Christmas decorations to give as gifts. She had already dipped walnuts and pinecones in gold paint, and was now covering Styrofoam balls with multicolored, embroidered ribbons.

  It was cozy and warm in the clubhouse, and an air of busy productivity added to the comfortable hominess of the room.

  “What time is it?” Di asked, as she tried to unstick her glue-covered fingers from the embroidered ribbon without pulling it off the Styrofoam ball.

  “Seven-thirty,” Brian answered. “Do you have to be home at any particular time?”

  “Oh. Eleven at the latest,” said Di. She finally managed to get herself unstuck. With a satisfied expression, she placed the ball on a sheet of clean paper to dry. “That wasn’t why I asked. I was just wondering where Trixie is.”

  No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the door burst open. A blast of chilly air and one Trixie Belden came into the room.

  “Back to the salt mines,” Trixie said cheerfully. She took off her hat, and shook out her short hair.

  “Where have you been?” Mart asked. “Well, basketball practice was a little late,” she said, “but that wasn’t all of it. Wait until you hear what I have to say! Carl Reid is facing a twenty-year sentence in the United States, and his accomplices in Europe have all been caught!”

  “When did you hear that!” Mart exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. “How come nobody ever tells me these things!”

  “Well, I saw Sergeant Molinson on my way home today,” Trixie answered, trying to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of her mouth. “He specifically asked me to let all of you know. Not only was Carl Reid a very big wheel in this particular ring, but his arrest led to the conviction of several other big criminals the government has been trying to pin something on for years. He especially told me to thank you all for your part in solving the mystery.”

  “Our part?” Brian said. “What does he mean by our part? It was you and Honey who did it all, practically single-handedly!”

  “Now don’t exaggerate!” Trixie said in her most humble tone. “Not quite.”

  “She’s right, Brian.” Mart said. “After all, I was there too, and that night I not only never got a hamburger, I almost was a hamburger!”

  “And how about Inspector Patou?” Di asked. “Did Sergeant Molinson tell you anything about him?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact he did,” Trixie answered. “He said that the Inspector was given a citation and a medal by the French government for closing down the European end of the operation.”

  “Not bad, not bad,” Dan said with a smile. “And Sergeant Molinson also gave me the reason Carl Reid asked Honey and me to pick up the plates. Mr. Reid knew the operation was being watched on the French end because his regular courier had been arrested. The idea of the antique doll came to him when he overheard us talking about our trip. After getting us to agree to do the dirty work, he quickly telephoned his French connection and instructed him to run out and buy an antique doll—any antique doll—and put the plates inside.”

  “Well, that certainly answers one question, doesn’t it?” said Honey.

  “Which one is that?” Brian asked.

  “For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why he asked us to go pick up the doll with the plates, when it would have been so much easier to simply mail the plates to a box number or have one of his cronies pick them up.”

  “Actually,” Jim said, “it was a pretty smart plan. He knew the French plate-makers were being watched by the French police. If they’d mailed them—or gotten a new courier—the French police could have notified the American police who would then watch the address, or the post office, or the airport until someone came to pick up the plates. That person would have led them straight to Carl Reid.”

  “But instead, Mr. Reid planned it very well,” Mart said. “He sent two obviously touristy American girls who were traveling in a private jet instead of a scheduled airline. That would make it almost impossible for a French agent to track them down and trace them back to him. He also knew that people traveling on private jets always breeze through customs.”

  “There was only one thing he didn’t count on,” Di said, with a laugh. “Carl Reid didn’t understand what happens when you send Trixie to do anything!”

  “It was his first mistake,” Mart said in a theatrically deep voice, “and also his last!”

  “And Sergeant Molinson said to tell you that without our nosy intervention,” Trixie said, “Carl Reid would actually have gotten away with it.”

  “So the Sergeant admitted it, did he?” Mart said thoughtfully. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Me either,” Brian said. “Did he also say, ‘And even though you’re nosy, you’d be welcome on my force any day’?”

  “Well, not in those exact words,” Trixie said with a twinkle in her eye, “but it was close—and from Sergeant Molinson, that means a lot!”

  “So, tell me,” asked Dan. “What’s Mrs. De Keyser going to do about that barn?”

  “She found another tenant,” Honey said. “Really?” Brian said. “Who?”

  “Well,” Trixie answered, “it’s going to be a crafts store next. And it looks like it’ll be really nice, too.”

  “Oh, boy,” Mart said sarcastically. “Just what we need around here—more knitting and crocheting! More darning needles and wool samplers. Well, you can bet there isn’t anything very mysterious about a crafts store.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Trixie chided. Then she laughed. “After all, what could possibly have been crooked about an antique store?”

  YOU WILL ALSO ENJOY

  THE JAMES BUDD MYSTERIES

  By Dale Carlson

  Meet cool, dashing, athletic James Budd, sixteen-year-old supersleuth with a taste for adventure. In his specially equipped red Firebird, with his beautiful friend and partner Honey Mack at his side, James is ready to handle intrigue, crime, and trouble wherever he finds them. And find them he does....

  1 THE MYSTERY OF THE MADMAN AT CORNWALL CRAG

  2 THE SECRET OF OPERATION BRAIN

  3 THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST PRINCESS

  4 THE MYSTERY OF GALAXY GAMES

  Table of Contents

  1
* The Doctor’s Request

  2 * Trixie and Honey Help Out

  3 * The Curious Antique Shop

  4 * Trixie Investigates

  5 * An Unusual Favor

  6 * The Parisian Doll

  7 * A Suspicious Stranger

  8 * Wrongly Accused

  9 * The Clue in the Dress

  10 * Caught!

  11* Trixie’s Plan

  12 * No Escape

  13 * The Rescuers

  14 * The Sergeant’s Commendation

 

 

 


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