“Skip it,” Trixie said cheerfully. “Let’s put our bait back in its proper place. We’ll catch him in our trap at midnight, and then it’ll be my turn to be rude to him.”
Together, they returned the jewelry box to Honey’s dressing table in the room across the hall. “Wasn’t it a scream,” Honey asked when they were back in Jim’s former room, “the way neither of us noticed the box on the bureau in here this morning? If it had been a snake, it would have bitten me.”
“Me, too,” Trixie admitted ruefully. “But after all, Honey, while we were getting ready to go swimming before lunch, we both had our minds on forged signatures.”
Miss Trask came in then and sat down on the window seat. “It hardly seems worthwhile taking food out of the refrigerator. Brian and Mart said they couldn’t eat a thing, and Jim won’t be home. How do you girls feel about food?”
“We’re not a bit hungry,” Honey said. “Let’s have a picnic supper when we get back from the movies. It should be cooler then.”
“A good idea,” Miss Trask said. She glanced at Honey appraisingly. “Your hair should be trimmed, dear. I don’t blame Jim at all for getting a crew cut.”
“Is he really going to?” Trixie asked curiously. “Did he tell you that when he phoned, Miss Trask?”
“Why, no,” Miss Trask said. “He didn’t phone, Trixie. He sent word by Dick that he would meet us in the Cameo lobby at seven-thirty.”
“He didn’t phone!” Trixie repeated, surprised. “Why, even Mart has better manners than that. I can’t believe Jim would make plans without asking your permission, Miss Trask. The line must be out of order.”
Miss Trask smiled. “It isn’t really a question of manners, Trixie. Jim is very independent, you know. And he’s so sensible. I never worry about him.”
“I still think the line must be out of order,” Trixie said stubbornly. “It wasn’t like Jim not to call you.”
Miss Trask sighed. “Both the phones are working, dear. I’m so hot I telephoned Regan instead of walking across to the garage. I just called him a minute ago to tell him that we’re going to leave all the doors and windows open. We don’t want to shut in the hot air and shut out the cool air, but it may rain before we get back.”
“I hope it pours,” Honey said and added quickly, “Oh, no, I don’t. If it does, Regan will have to leave the television set while he and Dick close the house. Regan is wild about the wrestling matches.”
“I know,” Miss Trask said with another sigh. “But Celia and the cook are just as wild about the Saturday evening radio programs. Maybe we should shut up the house ourselves and leave them all in peace.”
“Oh, let’s not,” Honey pleaded. “I’d rather come back and find every room a swimming pool than shut out an inch of cool evening air.”
Miss Trask glanced out of the window at the gray-blue sky. “I have it,” she said suddenly. “I like to watch the wrestling matches, too, although I’m not quite as wild about them as Regan is. I’ll drop you children off at the movies, and then I’ll invite myself to share Mr. Lytell’s television set with him. He’s asked me to a dozen times, and his home is so near I could get back here in plenty of time to prevent swimming pools at the first drop of rain.”
Honey threw her arms around Miss Trask. “Everyone leaves the worst chores to you,” she cried. “It’s not fair. You go to the movies with Trixie and the boys. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things.”
“I’ll stay with you,” Trixie said quickly. She grinned at Miss Trask. “You don’t really want to miss two hours in an air-cooled theater, do you?”
Miss Trask chuckled. “You’re both sweet, generous girls; but I honestly do like television at times. And Mr. Lytell is a rather lonely old man. I’ll have a pleasant evening with him and pick you children up in front of the Cameo at nine-thirty.”
“You’ll have a pleasant evening if it doesn’t rain,” Honey pointed out. “Besides, the wrestling matches don’t start until nine.”
“Oh, there are other programs,” Miss Trask said cheerfully. “No, my mind’s made up. I’ll go and telephone Mr. Lytell right now and prepare him for my company.”
“I know,” Honey cried. “Why can’t we come home in a taxi, Miss Trask? Then you can stay right on at Mr. Lytell’s and see all the wrestling matches.”
“That’s it,” Trixie said. “We can all chip in and pay for the cab now that we’re wage earners.”
“That’s right,” Honey said, smiling. “I’ll have to borrow fifteen cents from you, Trixie, until I darn the first batch of socks. Please say yes, Miss Trask. You haven’t had any time off in ages.”
“We-ell,” Miss Trask said doubtfully.
“You couldn’t possibly worry about us for a minute,” Trixie said. “You just said yourself that Jim is super-sensible. And Celia and the cook will still be awake when we get back. So will Regan.”
Miss Trask chuckled again. “As Mart would say, ‘You twisted my arm.’ All right. I’ll probably be back home while you’re still raiding the refrigerator.” She frowned. “I was looking forward to meeting your friend, Tom Delanoy, Trixie; but I suppose that can wait.”
“Of course, it can,” Honey said, giving her an affectionate pat. “We’ll interview him for you. I need practice anyway if I’m going to be Mother’s private secretary for a birthday present.”
“That’s a very good idea, Honey,” Miss Trask said approvingly. “Although you’re only thirteen, you are the young lady of the house. If you do a good job of interviewing Dick’s successor, I’ll have other tasks for you. What are you going to say to him?”
“I’m going to tell him the truth,” Honey said promptly. “You know perfectly well, Miss Trask, that you made up your mind to fire Dick on September first, as soon as you heard he was rude to Trixie.”
“What a mind reader you are,” Miss Trask said with a broad grin. “I instantly decided he could keep the advance salary we gave him in lieu of two weeks’ notice. I’d rather do all the driving myself than have a rude employee on the place.”
Honey giggled. “And as soon as I heard about Tom Delanoy, I made up my mind that you’d want him to start work right after Labor Day.”
“Good for you,” Miss Trask said. “With the help of Trixie and her brothers, maybe you can persuade him to do just that.”
“And Jim,” Trixie added. “Don’t forget that Tom is a good friend of Jim’s, too.”
Miss Trask nodded. “We’ve certainly settled a lot of things in such a short time. I guess your brothers have had a swim and changed by now, Trixie. I’ll go call Mr. Lytell and then get the station wagon out of the garage.”
Half an hour later, she let them out in front of the Cameo Theater. “Be good, boys and girls,” she said, waving from behind the wheel. “And have fun.”
Trixie hastily pushed her way through the crowded lobby to the ticket collector’s stand. “Hi, Tom,” she said. “Has Jim gone in yet? Jim Frayne, you know. The redheaded boy our neighbors adopted last month.”
“No, he hasn’t,” Tom Delanoy said. “I haven’t seen him since we both had haircuts in the barber shop last week.”
Trixie blinked. “Did Jim have a haircut just last week?”
The tall, good-looking young man stared at her. “What’s so remarkable about that? You need a haircut yourself, and so does Honey Wheeler.”
Honey, who had followed closely behind Trixie, giggled. “If this weather keeps up, I think I’ll get a crew cut like Mart’s. Jim was supposed to meet us here at seven-thirty, Tom. Sure he didn’t go in ahead of us?”
“Not unless he was wearing a wig,” Tom said. “Which I very much doubt in this heat. If you kids are smart, you’ll go in and hold a seat for Jim. The place is filling up fast.”
“We’d better do that,” Brian said, producing the four tickets he had just bought. “Jim probably got delayed getting a bite in the dogwagon. It’s always packed and jammed on Saturdays at this time.”
They all filed inside and soon discov
ered that the Cameo was packed and jammed too. Trixie and Honey finally found two seats together on the aisle.
“I don’t know where the boys went to,” Trixie whispered. “And I couldn’t care less. I’m so worried about Jim I can’t stand it.”
“But why?” Honey whispered back.
“Sh-h,” Trixie cautioned her. “We’ll be asked to leave.” She sat rigidly in her seat and tried to concentrate on the newsreel, but she could think of nothing but Jim.
Jim hadn’t telephoned Miss Trask to get permission to have a crew cut and supper in the village.
Jim had just had a haircut last week.
Jim didn’t like to eat in the dogwagon. Jim liked to raid the icebox.
Jim had said he would be waiting for them in the lobby at seven-thirty. Jim was prompt. And they had been late, because Miss Trask had had to stop for gas on the way in.
When last seen, Jim had gone off for a driving lesson with Dick. Dick. Dick.
On a lonely country road. A lonely country road. A lonely country road.
It became a maddening little tune that shut out all other sounds. “Dick and a lonely country road. Dick and a lonely country road.”
Then Trixie remembered something else that made her sit up even straighter. Bobby had probably told Dick that Honey and Jim had switched rooms. And he must have told him, too, that the “boxlike thing” had not been switched.
Dick would know that he could not hope to sneak into the house at night and steal the jewelry box if Jim was sleeping in Honey’s old room. Therefore, Dick somehow had to get rid of Jim. That was why he had offered to give Jim driving lessons—on a lonely country road. That was why Dick had planned his whole day so that nothing would interfere with the driving lesson.
Trixie shivered. She nudged Honey’s arm. “Come out to the rest room with me,” she whispered. “I’m so worried about Jim I can’t stand it.”
There was no one else in the little powder room when the girls got there. Honey’s hazel eyes widened when Trixie told her what she had been thinking all during the movie.
“But, Trixie,” she gasped. “You forget one thing. Dick knew that we were all going to the early show and wouldn’t be back until after nine-thirty. He also knew that Celia and the cook would have their ears glued to the radio all evening and that Regan would be glued to the television set once the wrestling matches started. Between nine and nine-thirty this evening would be a perfect time for Dick to go in and get my jewelry box. He didn’t have any reason to get rid of Jim during that time, because he knew Jim was going to the movies, too.”
Trixie jumped. “Oh, my goodness, I never thought of that!” She leaned over to look at the watch on Honey’s wrist. “The wrestling matches don’t start for another half-hour. Dick wouldn’t dare try to sneak out of the garage and into the house before then. Regan might hear him.” She sighed disappointedly. “You’ve got to call Regan right away, Honey, and tell him everything. We’ll have to let him catch Dick in our trap.”
But Honey wasn’t listening. “I think I know where Jim is,” she said slowly. “He’s so smart, he must have figured out long ago that Dick would try to get the diamond out of my jewelry box while we were at the movies. Don’t you see, Trixie? Jim got Dick to leave him off in the village after the driving lesson, and then he walked home. He’s probably hiding in the closet of my old room right now.”
“But Jim doesn’t suspect Dick,” Trixie cried impatiently.
“I think he does now,” Honey said. “I didn’t want to tell you before, because I thought you might be cross with Mart. But while you were telephoning your father before lunch, Mart looked at the crumpled sheets of paper we threw into Jim’s scrap basket. He knew right off that we’d been trying to prove how easily Dick could have forged Mr. Whitney’s signature. Jim was very impressed when he saw how the M and W in my name were slightly blurred. I have a feeling that he decided, then and there, to look at that reference. If he did, and found traces of carbon on the signature—”
“Honey,” Trixie interrupted. “That must be just what happened. While we were having a swim before lunch, Jim must have found out that Mr. Whitney’s signature looked suspicious. Remember how quiet he was during lunch? The rest of us did a lot of kidding, but he hardly spoke a word.”
Honey nodded. “I think he was planning, then, to catch Dick in our trap. That’s why he didn’t come home after the driving lesson. Jim wanted to make sure that Dick knew that he was out of the way.”
Trixie shook her head. “That wasn’t exactly necessary. I mean, Jim getting Dick to leave him off in the village. If Jim had left for the movies with us in the station wagon, Dick would have seen him and would have thought that Jim would be out of the way between nine and nine-thirty. Jim could have gone inside the Cameo with the rest of us, and then gone right out again. There still would have been time for him to have walked home and hidden in your closet.” Nervously, she unknotted her handkerchief in which she had put some change, the girls’ share of the taxi on the return trip. “Here’s a nickel,” she told Honey. “Call your house. If Jim’s there, I won’t worry about anything. Hurry. It’s a quarter to nine.”
Honey hurried to the booth and dialed her number. Then she stood there, waiting.
It seemed like hours to Trixie, and she couldn’t stand it. “No answer?” she asked. “What’s the matter?”
Honey put the receiver back on the hook. “The line’s out of order, Trixie. It must be thundering and lightning like anything.”
“I don’t believe it,” Trixie cried impatiently. “A bad electric storm couldn’t have come up so quickly. You probably dialed the wrong number.”
Honey meekly took the nickel out of the returned-coins box and put it back in the slot. This time, she dialed the operator. “I’m trying to get Sleepyside six-oh-three-oh-three,” she said. “Could you tell me, please, if the line is out of order?”
After a minute the operator said something Trixie couldn’t hear, and the nickel jangled in the box. “It is out of order,” Honey told Trixie. “Electric storms do come up quickly along the river.” She slipped her slim fingers in for the nickel and started out of the booth.
Trixie pushed her back inside. “Try Regan’s number. Both lines can’t be down. They just can’t be.”
Honey sighed, but she dropped the nickel in the slot for the third time and dialed another number. In a few seconds Trixie heard the operator’s voice. She had crowded as far into the booth as she could to listen.
“Sor-ree, that line is out of order.”
Honey hung up, and the nickel jangled in the box. “Oh, Trixie,” she cried, “please don’t worry about Jim. Maybe he’s right here in the theater sitting with Brian and Mart. They were going to sit near the back and keep an eye out for him. Maybe Jim came in right after we did.”
“Maybe he did,” Trixie admitted as she led the way out of the rest room. “Let’s go ask Tom Delanoy.”
Outside, they found Tom sitting on a folding chair which he had placed on the sidewalk in front of the theater. The sidewalk, Trixie noted, was dry. “Did Jim come in?” she asked Tom.
He shook his head. “Nobody’s come in since the feature started,” he said.
“Has there been much thunder and lightning?”
“Are you kiddin’?” he demanded. “We’re not going to get rain. We’re not even going to get a breath of cool air. The storm passed right over us.”
“It’s awfully dark for so early in the evening, with daylight saving and all,” Honey said. “Maybe there was an electric storm out in the country where we live.”
“Honey Wheeler,” he said exasperatedly, “I’m neither blind nor deaf. If there was any turbulence over Glen Road, I would have known about it. You don’t live that far out.”
Trixie moved closer to him. “Tom,” she said, “I’ve got to go right home. Will you, please, get me a cab and lend me fifty cents?”
He stood up, grinning as he reached into his pocket for two quarters. “Anything for
Brian and Mart Belden’s kid sister. But what’s the hurry, Trixie?”
“I can’t explain now,” Trixie said. “Oh, there’s a cab. Grab it for me, please, Tom.”
Tom went to the curb, whistling through his fingers.
“I’m going with you,” Honey said, frowning. “I don’t understand why both lines are out of order. Remember? Miss Trask called Mr. Lytell just before we left.”
“You’re not coming with me,” Trixie said determinedly. “You stay right here and interview Tom about the job. When I get to your house, I’ll probably find that everything’s all right. There’s no sense in both of us going.”
“But suppose you don’t find that everything’s all right,” Honey said nervously. “Suppose you—”
“Never mind,” Trixie interrupted. “There’ll be an intermission soon, and a lot of people will leave. Brian and Mart will come out here looking for us, so we can all sit together for the second feature. You’ll have to be here, so you can explain why I left.”
“We-ell,” Honey said dubiously, “I guess you’re right, Trixie, but I’d rather go with you. Not that I’d be much help if you did run into trouble.”
The taxi, on the other side of the intersection, had come to a halt when Tom Delanoy whistled, but as the driver turned and headed toward the Cameo, the traffic light changed to red.
“Just my luck,” Trixie moaned as she and Honey joined Tom at the curb. “It never fails. Whenever you’re in a hurry the light’s always against you.”
“What is your hurry anyway?” Tom demanded suspiciously. “You’re in some sort of a scrape, Trixie Belden. I can tell.”
Trixie ignored him and nudged Honey. “Well, go ahead,” she said. “This is as good a time as any for you to interview Tom.”
“Interview me?” Tom’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What am I, a celebrity or something?” He tipped his cap and bowed deeply. “Perhaps,” he said, mincing his words, “you would like my autograph, ladies?”
Honey giggled, rather nervously, Trixie thought. “Not that kind of interview, Tom. We’re going to need a new chauffeur pretty soon. Brian and Mart told us that you would be perfect—just the kind of chauffeur we need. You’ll like Regan, too. He’s our groom. You’ll share his apartment above our garage. It’s really very nice, with a radio and a television set and all.” She stopped, her pretty face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, Tom, what I’m trying to say is, will you accept? Please do!”
The Gatehouse Mystery Page 15