The Gatehouse Mystery

by Julie Campbell

Honey giggled. “We’re not dripping. It’s so hot, I’m almost dry already. And hotter than ever from hurrying.” She started into Jim’s old room, then stopped, pointing. “Oh, Trixie, look! There it is on the bureau. My jewelry box. You were right. It was Dick!”

  Trixie stared. “Nothing makes sense any more,” she moaned. “If Dick swiped it while we were out riding, he couldn’t possibly have had time to examine it thoroughly and put it back in the house. He’s been as busy as anything ever since he arrived this morning.” They quickly changed into the coolest playsuits they could find and dashed downstairs just as Miss Trask was going into the dining-room.

  “My, you girls look hot!” she said, smiling. “I really think you look hotter than you feel. It was simply broiling in the village this morning. Are you sure you all want to go to the movies this evening?”

  “Oh, yes,” Honey said. “The Cameo is air-conditioned.”

  “In that case,” Miss Trask said emphatically, “I’ll go with you. We’ll all pile into the station wagon. Dick has done a lot of driving today, and the heat hasn’t helped his poison ivy rash any. It would do him good to stay quietly in the suite over the garage and watch the wrestling matches with Regan.”

  Jim sighed. “I guess I won’t get a driving lesson. Not until the heat wave breaks.”

  “Oh, no,” Miss Trask said as she served the ice-cold shrimp salad. “Dick doesn’t want to postpone that, Jim. I tried to persuade him to let it go for another day, but he said he’d be all ready for you in the Ford around five. That reminds me,” she went on, turning to Honey. “We should go to the early show. Otherwise, you children won’t be in bed until midnight. That means we’d better have a light supper at six-thirty, so we can leave at seven-fifteen.”

  “It would be nice if we could,” Honey said. “Will Celia and the cook object?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Miss Trask said. “They’re both worn out. This hot, humid weather is exhausting. I’m sure they’d be delighted to retire to their air-conditioned rooms on the third floor.”

  “I’d like to retire there right now,” Mart said with a chuckle. “How come the third floor has air-conditioning, but the rest of the house hasn’t? Not that it’s any of my business.”

  Miss Trask smiled at him. “Another simple explanation, Mart. The nearer the roof you get, the hotter it is. The whole house is insulated, of course, but we found that during July and August the rooms on the third floor were too hot for comfort. So Mr. Wheeler had them air-conditioned.”

  “I think I’ll resign as farmer,” Mart said, grinning, “and take on the job of chef. Home was never like the cook’s quarters here.”

  Miss Trask looked puzzled, and Honey quickly explained about the clubhouse and how they all wanted to earn the money so they could make the necessary repairs.

  “This,” Miss Trask said, “is the nicest thing that ever happened to me. If you boys take over the lawns and the vegetable garden, I know Nailor will never leave us.” She sighed. “He complained so much about the heat this morning while he was mowing that I had to give him the rest of the weekend off. He left with Helen and won’t be back until Monday morning although his work isn’t half-finished.” She turned to Honey. “And as for you, my dear, isn’t it wonderful that you’re going to have a chance to earn some money? I know how you’ve envied Trixie her job.”

  Honey smiled happily. “I’ve been green with envy ever since I’ve known her. And to think, Miss Trask, I’m to get fifty cents an hour from Mr. Belden just for mending. Why, if there’s enough to do, I could make five dollars a week, too!”

  “Don’t worry about the amount,” Trixie said, giggling. “There’s always a huge basketful at our house. Bobby never ties his shoelaces, so there are never any heels in his socks. You all know about his shoulder straps, and you’ve seen the knee-patches on the jeans Brian, Mart, and I wear.”

  “Next to darning,” Honey said dreamily, “I love patching the best.”

  “It’s nice,” Brian said to Miss Trask, “to know a girl who likes to do girlish things. Our sister must have been frightened by a darning needle in the cradle.”

  Celia came in then to clear the table for dessert. Trixie glared at Brian. “Says you! I love darning needles when they’re dragonflies. My first pet was one, and after that I collected walking sticks. They’re the cutest bugs ever, except for the praying mantis.”

  “I hate bugs,” Honey said. “No, I don’t mean that. I’m just a sissy. I’m scared of them. I’m even scared of Bobby’s leopard frogs, although they are pretty.”

  “Most girls,” Mart said, “are afraid of bugs. It’s the normal thing to expect, and more fun. Trix is no fun at all. I tried to scare her with a garter snake when she was Bobby’s age, but she made a pet out of it and sicked it on me.”

  “That’s not true,” Trixie stormed. “It was a great big, black snake. And I never sicked it on you. You teased it until it finally chased you into the pond.”

  Celia, by this time, was laughing so hard she had to set her tray down on the table for a minute. “Honest-to-goodness, Miss Trask,” she said, “these Beldens will be the death of me. That Bobby! When he helped Jim and Honey move, he got everything mixed up. When I dusted Jim’s room this morning, I found Honey’s dainty little jewelry box on her dressing table. It looked so silly sitting there in the middle of Jim’s fishing tackle, I took it right across the hall and put it on the bureau in his old room.” Still shaking with laughter, she picked up the tray and went through the swinging door into the butler’s pantry.

  No one said anything for a long minute. It was Mart who finally broke the silence. He cleared his throat and said, “That was the best shrimp salad I ever tasted, Miss Trask. Could we have it again for supper this evening?”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, Mart,” she cried. “Why don’t we just have a pot-luck supper this evening and give Celia and the cook the whole afternoon off? We can raid the icebox and finish up the leftovers.”

  “I love leftovers,” Honey cried. “No matter what it is, I always think it tastes better the next day, but our cooks almost never let us have delicious things like the Beldens do. They have warmed-up stews and fried macaroni-and-cheese and chocolate bread puddings.”

  Celia appeared then with strawberry sherbet in strawberry-shaped crystal dishes.

  Mart glared at Honey. “Don’t mention bread pudding in the presence of that divine-looking ambrosia.” He kicked Trixie under the table. “Our frail, feminine sister is especially fond of strawberries. In any shape or form, she adores them. Even when they’re stuffed with rocks, she finds them delicious.”

  Celia giggled. “You mean seeds, Mart, not rocks.”

  “In Alaska,” Mart told her, “which is the land of the midnight sun, practically, strawberries grow to giant size. The seeds must grow, too.”

  “Oh, stop it, Mart,” Trixie said, kicking him under the table. “We’ll all catch pneumonia if we even think about Alaska in this weather.”

  “If you had my superior education,” Mart said, “you would know that Alaska is the hottest place in the world, practically, during its short summer. Why, the mosquitoes get so big they steal children Bobby’s age right off the doorsteps.” He turned to Brian. “Next time I’m a junior counselor I must remember to import mosquitoes from Alaska.”

  “You’ll never get another chance at a job like that,” Trixie informed him briskly, “not unless you stop exaggerating. I studied about Alaska in school, too, Mart; and the mosquitoes do not grow quite to the size of eagles.”

  Miss Trask laughed. “But they are a problem. One has to wear special head-nets and gloves for protection against Alaskan mosquitoes.” She turned to Celia. “We’ve decided to raid the icebox this evening, so you and Cook won’t have to fix our supper. Why don’t you fill the gallon Thermos jug with iced tea and make a big platter of sandwiches for Regan and Dick? Then they can eat whenever they want to.”

  “Thank you very much, Miss Trask,” Celia said gratefully. “
It’s so hot! Cook and I were just saying we’d like nothing better than to spend the afternoon and evening in our cool sitting room listening to the radio.”

  “Then do just that, by all means,” Miss Trask said. “I’m going to take the children to the early show at the Cameo. When you see Dick, you might tell him that, except for Jim’s driving lesson, he can spend the rest of the day trying to keep cool, too.”

  “He’ll like that,” Celia said. “It’s not my place to say this, Miss Trask, but Dick is not like Regan. Not at all like Regan.”

  “Were you the one who sent him to us, Celia?” Honey asked suddenly. “Remember? On Wednesday you said you’d ask around in the village and try to find someone who wanted a job as a chauffeur.”

  Celia patted her dainty ruffled cap. “I did ask around all that afternoon. I asked everyone. And I found just the man for you; but when I came back to work, I found that Dick had already got the job.” She disappeared through the swinging door.

  Mart winked at Brian. “I can guess who, or should I say whom, Celia had in mind, can’t you?”

  Brian chuckled. “Tom Delanoy, of course.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Trixie groaned. “I should have thought of him myself.”

  “And who,” Miss Trask said, “is Tom Delanoy?”

  “Regan’s twin,” Mart said promptly. “Except that he’s got black hair and blue eyes. And he likes both cars and horses, not to mention kids of all ages. He’s a natural for the chauffeuring job here, Miss Trask. He’ll shovel the driveway and the paths in the winter and help with the transplanting in the spring. He’s handy with a paint brush, too. There isn’t anything Tom can’t or won’t do.”

  “My goodness,” Miss Trask cried. “He sounds perfect, or should I say super? How does one interview him? I have a feeling Dick isn’t going to like it here when the snow flies.”

  “Tom,” Brian told her, “taught Mart and me how to shoot and fish. He’s about Regan’s age and has had all kinds of jobs. He’s ready to settle down now; I think he’d like the chauffeur’s job here.”

  “If I were you,” Mart said to Miss Trask, “I’d interview Tom right away. I have a feeling Dick isn’t going to like it here after the first leaves fall.”

  Miss Trask wrung her hands nervously. “But where is Tom now, Mart? How can I get in touch with him?”

  “That I don’t know,” Mart admitted. “Have you any idea what Tom is doing at the moment, Trix?”

  Trixie sighed. “It’s all too, too uncanny. He’s collecting tickets at the Cameo. Miss Trask can talk to him this evening.”

  “Oh, that Tom,” Jim cried. “He’s a swell guy, Miss Trask. I’ve run into him in the village often, and we’ve had long talks. He was the one who recommended the book on pointers I sent away for. I never knew his last name. Never asked him what it was.”

  “He is nice,” Honey said. “I don’t know him as well as you do, Jim; but one afternoon when I went in to the movies by myself in a taxi, I found I’d forgotten to bring any money. Tom lent me some so I could pay the cab and buy a ticket.”

  “I remember that time,” Miss Trask said, smiling. “I hope you remembered to pay him back, Honey.”

  “Oh, I did,” Honey said as they all trooped out to the porch. “Please talk to him tonight, Miss Trask. If he likes cars and horses, he can’t like his job at the Cameo. And Dick—well, he’s all right, I guess—but he is rude to Trixie.”

  Miss Trask’s crisp gray eyebrows shot up with surprise. “Rude to Trixie? Honey, why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  “It doesn’t matter at all, Miss Trask,” Trixie said hastily. “I made fun of him, first. I didn’t realize he was just kidding me when he said Jupe kicked him.”

  Miss Trask sank down in a wicker rocking chair. “What are you talking about? When was Jupiter supposed to have kicked Dick?”

  “The black eye,” Trixie explained. “That’s how he got it. At least, that’s what Dick told me.”

  Miss Trask frowned thoughtfully. “That isn’t what he told me. He said he woke in the night when it was pitch black and, not being used to his new room, stumbled, and banged his head against the door which leads into the sitting room. I thought you must have awakened him, Trixie, when you screamed during your nightmare.”

  Trixie grinned. “I probably did, so that makes us all even. He was rude to me, but, indirectly, I gave him a black eye.”

  Miss Trask’s blue eyes twinkled. “But he mustn’t be rude to you, Trixie. I’ll speak to him about it.”

  She rocked back and forth. “I’m quite sure Dick was speaking the truth when he said he stumbled and fell Thursday night. You know, Trixie, that the windows of my room face the garage. After we’d gone back to bed and while the old clock was still striking midnight, I heard thumps and bangs. At the time, I thought they had been made by Patch on the porch. He is as restless as we are on hot nights. But when Dick told me how he got his black eye, I realized that it must have been he, falling in the darkness.”

  Trixie said nothing, but she thought she knew the answer to the thumps and bangs Miss Trask had heard on Thursday night. Dick had been in a fight that night—a fight with the man he had tried to double-cross.

  Mr. Leather Heels, seeking revenge, had probably been following his trail ever since he regained consciousness after the Tuesday night quarrel. By asking at various dogwagons along the river, he could have traced the green jalopy in a circle that ended at the second set of footprints and tire treadmarks on the shoulder of Glen Road.

  It was Mr. Leather Heels, Trixie decided, who had trampled away the clues. He might have been hiding in the cottage on Thursday and had seen Dick, in his chauffeur’s uniform, driving the Wheelers’ cars. Between then and midnight, Mr. Leather Heels had merely bided his time. When Dick sneaked back into the garage after trying to steal Honey’s jewelry box, he had walked right into the arms of the man he had tried to double-cross.

  “Dick,” Trixie said to Honey later while the boys were making Bobby’s scooter, “didn’t stumble into a door Thursday night. According to Mart, that’s what everyone says to explain how he got a black eye.”

  “Well, how did he get it then?” Honey demanded.

  Trixie grinned. “According to Brian, when a boy comes home with a black eye he got in a fight he tells his father, ‘You ought to see the other fellow.’ ”

  Honey gasped. “Mr. Leather Heels! Someone trampled up the clues in the cottage and near the road. It must have been he. He came back and had a fight with Dick!”

  “That’s what I think,” Trixie said. “Regan was away, and Patch was shut up on the porch. If the two men had a fight, it would explain a lot of things.”

  Honey nodded. “The black eye and the noises Miss Trask heard. What else?”

  “It would also explain,” Trixie said, “why Dick left on Friday and didn’t come back until this morning. My guess is that he spent that time trying to find the man who blacked his eye. Because I think that same man knocked Dick out Thursday night and took all of the loot, except, of course, the diamond, away from him.”

  “The suitcase,” Honey interrupted. “The loot was in Dick’s suitcase. Remember? You said he was very rude when Regan offered to carry it up to the top of the garage for him.”

  “That’s right,” Trixie said. “But I don’t think it’s there anymore. I think Mr. Leather Heels has it, and that’s why Dick must be bound and determined now to get the diamond for his share.” She leaned forward to whisper. “I’m sure he’ll walk into our trap tonight, Honey. I’m sure of it.”

  Chapter 17

  Where Is Jim?

  At five o’clock Jim left with Dick in the Ford for a steering lesson. Honey and Trixie kept as cool as they could down by the lake. Brian was mowing a lawn, and Mart was working in the vegetable garden.

  “I should be mending,” Honey said. “Your brothers make me feel guilty.”

  “Pooh,” Trixie said with a sniff. “They had a long, lovely vacation at camp. You know per
fectly well kids Bobby’s age aren’t nearly as much trouble as they try to make out.”

  Honey climbed up the ladder to the boathouse porch and pulled off her cap. “As soon as we dry off a bit,” she said, “we ought to get dressed, so we can help Miss Trask take things out of the refrigerator and fix the leftovers attractively.”

  “Okay,” Trixie said. “I hope there’s some sherbet left. It’s the only thing I feel like eating. I stuffed at lunch.”

  “I don’t think anybody will be very hungry,” Honey said. “It’s so horribly hot. But let’s go and help Miss Trask. It was darling of her to offer to take us to the movies.”

  “She’s always darling about everything,” Trixie agreed. She looked at the clock inside the boathouse and whistled. “It’s almost six-thirty. We’ll have to hurry.”

  They trudged up the path, and just then the Ford appeared on the driveway. Dick was at the wheel, but there was no sign of Jim.

  “Now, where could he have gone?” Trixie asked crossly. “If he stopped off somewhere, we’ll be late to the movies.”

  They hurried across the driveway to where Dick was parking the Ford. “Where’s Jim?” Honey asked.

  Dick got out of the car and said, “I took him into the village after his lesson. Said he wanted to get a crew cut like Mart’s. He roasted while he was mowing the lawn earlier.”

  “But where is he now?” Honey asked worriedly. “We’re going to have supper soon and go to the movies.”

  Dick shrugged. “He said not to wait supper for him. He’s going to have a bite at the dogwagon and meet you at the Cameo.”

  “Oh,” Honey said in a relieved tone of voice. “I thought he might be planning to walk home after his haircut. He’d never get here in time for supper if he did.”

  Trixie was staring at Dick. “Did you say Jim was going to eat in the dogwagon?” she asked in a puzzled tone of voice. “Why, he hates that place.”

  Dick walked away without bothering to reply, and Honey bit her lip. They hurried into the house, and while they changed into cool, cotton dresses, she said, “It makes me furious. Dick is so rude to you, Trixie.”