“But—but that’s impossible!” Mr. Hunter exclaimed as he watched the fire truck scream through the wide gates, which stood open, waiting for it.
“But it isn’t impossible at all,” Trixie told the astonished man. “You see, I made the arrangements for the fire department to be called even before we arrived here tonight.”
Jim gasped. “You mean you knew what was going to happen tonight?”
“Then was it Zeke Collins who’s been causing all the trouble?” Di asked.
Trixie shook her head and stared at the silent figure of Mr. Gregory. “No,” she told the Bob-Whites, “it wasn’t Zeke—and it wasn’t the Franklins, either. Oh, don’t you see? It was Mr. Gregory himself!”
A few days later, Trixie and her friends were gathered in Mrs. Franklin’s hospital room. Even Zeke Collins, looking a bit sheepish, was there.
Fay was radiant. As her mother kept repeating over and over, she looked like a different girl.
“That’s because I am a different girl,” Fay told her, laughing. “No one knows what it was like believing that I was possessed by a ghost!”
“I blame myself,” Zeke blurted. “If I hadn’t, like a blamed fool, started all those ghost stories—”
“—which you began to believe yourself,” Dan told him sternly.
“Begin at the beginning and tell us all about it again, Trix,” Honey said, smiling.
Trixie sat on a corner of Mrs. Franklin’s bed. “It all began when Mr. Gregory inherited that big old house,” she said. “But he had no money, so he tried to sell it.”
“But no one would buy,” Brian put in, “once Zeke told them his made-up history of the place.”
“Though part of it was true,” Mart objected. “Sarah Sligo really had lived there once. And she really did die a violent death—”
“And it was the ghost stories that gave Lewis Gregory his idea,” Trixie went on. “He decided to have Sarah ‘haunt’ the place again. Then, when the time was right, he was going to burn it down in order to collect the insurance money. Fay had already told us that the place and its contents were well insured. But Gregory needed witnesses
who could back up his story of how the fire started. He’d already begun replacing the real antique furniture with the fake stuff, of course, by this time. And then he hired Mrs. Franklin. He paid her a high salary so she wouldn’t leave.”
“How foolish I was,” Mrs. Franklin sighed.
“But you couldn’t have known what he had in mind,” Fay said quickly.
“And when Mr. Gregory thought the time was right,” Trixie continued, “he hired Mr. Hunter, who really was a psychic investigator—but a crooked one.”
“And when Gregory offered to pay him well for his services,” Jim put in, “Hunter agreed to help. He was prepared to swear in court that the house was genuinely haunted and that evil spirits can prey on the living—in this case, Fay Franklin.” Trixie nodded. “Yes. Once the two crooks saw the effect the ghostly happenings were having on Fay, they got the idea of blaming her for starting the fire that night. They put the lighted candles right by her elbow. They hoped they could scare her so much that she'd be the one who would make those draperies catch on fire. All of us—” she smiled at the Bob-Whites—“would also be witnesses then that Fay, ‘possessed’ by Sarah, had burned the house down to the ground.”
“And it might have worked,” Fay said softly.
“His plan was almost stopped before it began,” Trixie said, “when Mrs. Franklin broke her hip. Lewis Gregory hadn’t meant for that to happen. He was the one I saw outside the mansion when we first arrived at Lisgard House. It wasn’t Zeke at all. Gregory had almost overreached himself that night. What made you fall, Mrs. Franklin? Did you hear strange noises?”
Mrs. Franklin nodded. “I heard footsteps upstairs, and I knew it wasn’t Fay.”
Brian stirred. “He must have thought his best witness was gone for good,” he said, “when the ambulance took her to the hospital.”
“But then,” Honey broke in, “he realized he could go ahead with the frightening climax to the ‘haunting,’ after all—”
“Because you and Trixie agreed to spend the night with me,” Fay said breathlessly. “Boy, I’ll never forget what happened then.”
“He let himself in through the back door,” Trixie continued, “to which he also had a key. He used a tape machine to provide all the sound effects, just as I suspected—”
“And he used my smudge pots,” Zeke said. “He must have got them from my greenhouse. I use them to stop plants from freezing in the cold weather.”
“And with a fan,” Trixie said, “he blew the smoke under Fay’s bedroom door.”
Mart frowned. “I still don’t understand something,” he declared. “Why didn’t Gregory just incinerate Lisgard House and tell everyone that it must have been kids playing with matches?”
Di looked surprised. “Didn’t I tell you? Sergeant Molinson has found out that Gregory had already used that story before.”
Honey gasped. “I didn’t know that!”
“It was a warehouse that was burned several years ago,” Di told her. “Gregory had a partner in those days, and it was the partner who was suspected of setting the fire then. But the police think Lewis Gregory didn’t dare tell the same story twice, so that’s why he dreamed up another scheme instead.”
“And I would have been blamed for the Lisgard House fire,” Fay remarked, shivering.
“And we might not have been able to save you,” Dan put in. “I wasn’t sure who knocked over the candles at that séance.”
“But I know,” Trixie said. “Once I suspected what was going to happen, I watched Lewis Gregory all the time. It was his elbow that knocked over the candelabra.”
Mrs. Franklin sighed. “Just think,” she said. “If Trixie hadn’t seen Mrs. Wheeler’s portrait when she did, Gregory might have been successful!”
Jim grinned. “I still don’t understand how Mom’s portrait helped our girl sleuth figure everything out.”
Trixie laughed. “I looked at it,” she said, “and I thought of the Picasso. Then I remembered it wasn’t in the hall when we went back to get Fay’s clothes. Mr. Gregory had taken it down. I wondered why. Then I thought about that headstone. Miss Trask had said it was fake. But Hunter, who was supposed to be an expert, had agreed at once with Zeke’s story that a spirit who had died on its birthday couldn’t rest. I realized then that everything I’d suspected about Zeke could apply to Mr. Gregory, especially if Hunter was a crook. I think that at one time, Gregory intended to set fire to the house on Thanksgiving night—to fit the story. Then he must have decided he couldn’t wait, especially when we found out about the fake furniture. So he decided to act sooner. The picture of the blue clown was the only thing in the house he liked. And he sure didn’t want it to burn in the fire he intended to start that night, in front of witnesses.”
Mart laughed. “And Trixie didn’t call the fire department; she had someone else do it for her. Neat!”
Mrs. Franklin looked bewildered. “Then whom did she call? I don’t understand. I’ve been wondering who would believe her suspicions.”
“I called the only person who might be vitally interested in saving Lisgard House,” Trixie said simply. “I called Zeke Collins. He believed me at once.”
“Everything Trixie told me made sense,” Zeke explained, “and so I called the fire chief and told him to stand by. Him and me are old buddies, so luckily he did what I asked him to.”
Fay sighed. “What’s going to happen now?”
“The-Historical Society has seen Mr. Collins’s work,” Di said. “We’ve seen it, too. The paintings in the cottage are beautiful, and the Society is determined to save them.”
“As for Lisgard House,” Honey said, “parts of the downstairs were badly burned in the fire. But a group of local businessmen, including my-dad, and Di’s dad, are going to repair it and buy it and turn it over to the Society. Zeke is going to be kept on as art
ist in residence. Isn’t that great?”
“And Lewis Gregory?” Fay asked. “What about him? Is he going to jail?”
Trixie nodded. “Sergeant Molinson is sure of it. The insurance company is going to sue him for fraud, you see. Mr. Hunter will go to jail with him.”
“And now we have a surprise for you, Mrs. Franklin,” Honey said, laughing. “Di’s father has found you another job—on a lovely ranch, with lots of horses, Fay. What’s more, the insurance company is paying us a reward for saving Lisgard House.”
“And the Bob-Whites want you to have the money for Fay’s education,” Trixie added happily.
Mrs. Franklin’s eyes filled with tears. “We don’t know how to thank you all,” she said.
“Especially Trixie,” Fay added.
“Just have the best Thanksgiving ever,” Trixie said, feeling so thankful herself that this strange mystery was solved at last.
As she watched the happy group around Mrs. Franklin’s bed, she suddenly remembered the strange figure who had twice warned her to be careful. Lewis Gregory had now flatly denied doing so. Who had it been? Had the real whispering witch been doing her best to protect what had once been her earthly home?
Later, as the Bob-Whites were on their way home, Trixie saw once more the tall outlines of Lisgard House.
She rolled down her car window and whispered to the still air around it, “You can rest now, Sarah.”
And she had a sudden feeling that she'd been heard.
Table of Contents
An Unexpected Visitor ● 1
Trixie Is Warned ● 2
Touring a Haunted House • 3
The Witch’s Curse ● 4
Night of Terror! ● 5
The Odd Odd-Job Man ● 6
Dark Suspicions 7
Is Fay Possessed? ● 8
An Astonishing Confession ● 9
Mashed Potatoes ● 10
The Psychic Medium ● 11
A Ghostly Presence ●2
The Eavesdropper ● 13
Questionable Antiques ● 14
Trixie’s Suspicions • 15
Strange Behavior! • 16
Return to Lisgard House ● 17
Sarah Sligo’s Revenge ● 18
The Mystery of the Whispering Witch Page 13