The Mystery of the Phantom Grashopper

by Campbell, Julie

  “Right,” Honey said.

  Saturday was overcast and windy. When the Bob-Whites went riding, the horses seemed unusually nervous and skittish.

  On Sunday, the young people met at the clubhouse to make more plans for the walk-a-thon. The wind had been growing stronger all day, and though it was only early afternoon, the threatening sky was almost black.

  “I think we’d better adjourn early,” Jim said as the first big raindrops began to spatter on the windows. “It looks like this is going to be a pretty good storm. See you on the bus tomorrow.”

  Jacket collars turned up against the wind, Trixie, Brian, and Mart hurried home. Their father was waiting for them at the back door. “I was just about to come and get you!” he shouted against the force of the wind. “There’s been a severe storm warning posted. Everyone is to stay indoors and have candles ready in case of a power failure.”

  “Let’s have dinner before the lights go out,” Mart urged. “I like to see what I’m eating.”

  While everyone helped set the table for dinner, the rain came in heavy waves, drumming against the side of the snug old house. Tree branches scraped and bumped against the roof. With a loud crack!a branch broke off one of the trees and crashed to the ground.

  As they were eating dessert, the lights flickered and went out.

  “Hey!” Bobby yelled angrily. “Who turned off the lights?”

  “It’s all right, Bobby,” Mr. Belden said calmly. “The power lines are down.” In a minute he had the old gas lamp lit. “We probably won t have any electricity until tomorrow,” he said.

  “We’ll have to watch television with the lights off,” Bobby complained.

  “No television, either,” Mr. Belden said, mussing Bobby’s hair.

  “No television?” Bobby wailed in dismay. “What will we do?”

  “Let’s do what they did in the old days,” Trixie said cheerfully. “We’ll play games and sing songs by candlelight. It’ll be fun!”

  “Those old days’ weren’t all that long ago,” Mrs. Belden pointed out wryly. “Maybe a night without electricity will do us all good.”

  “Yeah,” Mart agreed. “Look what it did for Ben Franklin!”

  Sitting around a roaring fire in the living room, the whole family played guessing games, told jokes, and sang songs. Mrs. Belden reeled off a string of tongue twisters that amazed everyone. She challenged the young people to match her skill, and the results had everyone doubled over with laughter.

  When it was time for Bobby to go to bed, he said, “I like the old days! We get to tell jokes and sing songs just like they do on television.”

  “Maybe we should start a family television show,” Brian said.

  “I think a family circus would be more our style,” Mr. Belden said with a smile.

  Later, Trixie snuggled in bed and listened to the sounds of the storm outside. Poor old Hoppy, she thought with a shudder. I hope the storm doesn’t damage him.

  Where Is Hoppy? • 7

  THE MORNING SUN shining on her face woke Trixie. Swinging out of bed, she stretched and then bent and touched her toes. “No more storm,” she said, seeing blue sky from her window.

  The yard was littered with broken tree branches and piles of soggy leaves. The heavy limb from the shade tree lay crumpled beside the trunk. There were pools of dirty water everywhere.

  “Gleeps, what a mess,” Trixie moaned. “I wonder if the electricity is back on.” A snap of the light switch told her that the power had been restored. “No holiday from school,” Trixie said with a shake of her head.

  After making her bed and dressing, Trixie went down to breakfast. The rest of the family was already at the kitchen table, listening to the radio.

  Trixie slipped into her place beside Bobby. “Smells good, Moms,” she said, taking her plate from her mother.

  “My favorite fruit,” Mart sighed between bites. “Hot pancakes with melted butter and maple syrup.” Trixie widened her eyes. “That’s a surprise,” she said. “I thought your favorite fruit grew on a hamburger tree.”

  Mart helped himself to more syrup and nodded. “That’s my favorite dinner fruit,” he explained. “This is my favorite breakfast fruit.”

  “Trixie,” Bobby said, tugging at her arm, “listen to me. I have something ’portant to tell you. The radio man said the storm broke some of the windows at my school. Does the TV work today, or is it still like the old days?”

  “Well,” Trixie said, “if the radio works, then the TV set will work, too.”

  “That’s good,” Bobby said, “ ’cause the radio man said the school windows are broken, and I don’t have to go to school today.”

  “Gee, that’s too bad,” Trixie said in mock pity. “How about our school, Dad?” she asked.

  Mr. Belden smiled and shook his head. “No such luck, Trixie,” he said. “Your school building wasn’t damaged at all. Classes as usual today. From what they said on the news, the storm damage isn’t really too bad. A lot of tree branches are down, and there’s a little flooding in spots. The power was off all night, but they had that fixed early this morning”

  Mrs. Belden poured herself more coffee. “Honey called before you came down,” she told Trixie. “Some of the roads are blocked with tree limbs, and the school bus will be late getting around, so Jim is driving this morning. He’ll come by for all of you in the station wagon.”

  Trixie looked at the clock and gulped. “I’d better get my books,” she said, pushing her chair back from the table. “Thanks for the good breakfast, Moms.” When Trixie and her brothers climbed into the station wagon a few minutes later, Trixie could tell that Honey had some kind of good news.

  “Jeepers,” Trixie said, “for somebody who didn’t get an extra day off from school, you sure look happy this morning.”

  “I am happy,” Honey said. “Wait till you hear this! Mr. and Mrs. Perkins were visiting with Mother and Daddy when Jim and I got home yesterday. I told Mr. Perkins about our plans for a walk-a-thon to raise money for recoppering the weather vane, and I asked him if he’d announce the walk-a-thon over WSTH.”

  “What did he say?” Trixie asked.

  Honey looked smug. “Are you ready for this? Mr. Perkins suggested that we all go to the station and make the announcement ourselves I He’s arranged a taping session for tomorrow afternoon, right after school.”

  “Gleeps!” Trixie thumped her hands against the books in her lap. “Honey, that’s great!” she said.

  “Mirabile dictu!” Mart agreed.

  Brian shook his head as Trixie glared at Mart. “Honey used to be so shy she could barely say hello,” he said, “and now she’s going to be on the radio!”

  “We can all be on the radio,” Honey reminded him. Elated, the young people began making plans. It was agreed unanimously that Mart should write the announcement. There was some good-natured argument about who should actually do the talking. “Jim—he’s the club copresident.”

  “It was Trixie’s idea!”

  “But Brian is the best speaker.”

  “No—Honey should do it. She got permission.” “Wait a minute!” Mart whistled and signaled for time-out. “Let’s not tax our brains so severely before school even begins. I suggest we have a meeting after school in the clubhouse.”

  Everyone agreed.

  Jim pulled into a parking space in front of the school building. “End of the line,” he called. “All out.”

  Trixie consulted her watch. “We’re twenty minutes early. If Honey and I go to homeroom now, the teacher will put us to work sorting books or something.”

  “You’re right,” Honey agreed. “She can always find something to keep everyone busy.”

  Mart wagged a finger under Honey’s nose. “Now, now, Honey—idle hands get into mischief,” he reminded her primly.

  Honey burst out laughing. “Oh, Mart, you should be a homeroom teacher!” she said.

  Trixie had an idea. “Let’s drive downtown and see if the storm did any damage,” she
suggested. “We’ll be back in plenty of time.”

  “Not me,” Brian said, getting out of the wagon. “I’m going over to the gym to shoot some baskets.”

  “I’ll join you,” Mart said, climbing out.

  “We’ll see you at noon in the lunchroom,” Trixie called as Jim pulled out into the street

  There wasn’t much storm damage downtown. The streets had large puddles of water, and there was some debris—mostly newspapers and loose trash can lids. A few of the older trees had lost some branches. Workmen were busy clearing the sidewalks of twigs and muddy leaves.

  The big front windows of some of the stores and the newspaper office had been taped for protection from the wind.

  Jim drove slowly, and Honey and Trixie checked out both sides of the street

  “The church, the library, the dress shop,” Trixie counted off each building as they passed. “Everything looks okay,” she said, sounding relieved.

  “Town Hall is all right” Honey added as they passed the common. “I was worried about Hoppy last night.”

  “Me, too,” Trixie admitted. “I sine hope we can raise the money to have him replated. Let’s not forget to say hello to him today.” Trixie poked her head outside the car window.

  “Hello, Hop—” she began, then gasped. “Hoppy’s not on the roof! He’s gone!”

  Honey leaned out her window and stared up at the bare cupola.

  Jim pulled over to the curb to look for himself. “Mr. Johnson said that the base needed repairs. That wind last night must have knocked Hoppy off his perch.”

  “Poor Hoppy,” Honey sighed.

  Trixie was out of the car already, scanning the ground around Town Hall. “I can’t see Hoppy anywhere on the ground,” she said.

  “Maybe he landed on the other side of the building,” Honey suggested.

  Jim nodded. “That’s the direction the wind was blowing last night,” he said. “I just hope Hoppy was strong enough to take the fall without being smashed.”

  Trixie headed around the building. “We’d better go look,” she said.

  “Trixie, we don’t have enough time,” Honey warned. “Besides, what would we do with Hoppy if we found him? Town Hall doesn’t open until nine o’clock”

  Reluctantly, Trixie agreed. “Let’s report it to the police, then,” she said. “The station is right across the street—it’ll only take a minute.”

  When Trixie hurried into the small police station,

  Sergeant Molinson was just sitting down at his desk with a cup of coffee and a doughnut He looked at Trixie and scowled. “Are you skipping school today, Detective Belden?” he asked.

  “Of course not” Trixie replied. “Sergeant Molinson, something awful has happened! We were driving past Town Hall just now, and we noticed that Hoppy isn’t up on the roof. The storm must have knocked him down. We don’t have time to look for him, so we thought—”

  “Who is Hoppy?” Sergeant Molinson interrupted sharply.

  “The grasshopper weather vane,” Trixie said. “He’s been on top of Town Hall since—”

  The sergeant was annoyed. Leaning across his desk, he said, “Trixie, crime is my business. I don’t have time to go around looking for weather vanes that fall off roofs. Mr. Johnson takes care of Town Hall, so that’s his problem, not mine.”

  Trixie was not put off easily. “Hoppy belongs to everyone in Sleepyside,” she said. “That weather vane is part of Sleepyside history—and a valuable antique, too. It can’t be left just lying on the ground. Please, Sergeant Molinson?”

  Molinson sighed. “I’ll check into it,” he said.

  “Thanks!” Trixie said, rushing out of the police station. “Let’s go,” she urged Jim. “The bell rings in five minutes.”

  Morning classes seemed to drag on endlessly. Trixie tried to concentrate, but her thoughts kept returning to Hoppy. She wondered if he had been found, and whether he was badly damaged from the fall. Luckily, Trixie was not called on to answer questions in class. When the lunch bell finally sounded, she was the first one out the door.

  As she rushed down the hall to the lunchroom, Trixie spotted Miss Lawler coming out of her classroom.

  “Miss Lawler, wait a minute please,” Trixie called.

  The teacher’s aide looked especially attractive today, Trixie noticed. Her hair was cut in a new fluffy style, and her beige skirt and blouse were fashionable and expensive-looking.

  “Hello, Trixie,” she said with a smile.

  “Have you seen Sammy?” Trixie asked breathlessly.

  “Why, no, not today,” Miss Lawler answered. “Why?“

  Quickly, Trixie told her about Hoppy. “We think the storm knocked him loose from the base. He must have fallen behind the building, but we didn’t have time to look for him,” she said. Trixie pushed her curly hair back from her face and sighed, “Hoppy’s so old that I’m afraid he may be broken.”

  Miss Lawler bit her lower lip. “I—I’d better call Sammy at Town Hall,” she said. “Where’s the nearest pay telephone?”

  Trixie pointed to the far end of the corridor. “Right down there,” she said. “Please come over to our lunch table and tell us if you hear any news from Sammy.” The Bob-Whites were waiting for Trixie at their usual table in the lunchroom.

  “Has everyone heard the news?” Trixie asked as she sat down beside Di and began her lunch.

  “We all know,” Brian said. “Honey and Jim told us about Hoppy.”

  Trixie took a bite of her tuna fish sandwich. “I just told Miss Lawler about it, and she’s calling Sammy at Town Hall. If there’s any news, she’ll tell us.”

  “Here she comes now,” Dan said, seeing the teacher’s aide crossing the room.

  As soon as Miss Lawler reached their table, Trixie asked anxiously, “Did you talk to Sammy?”

  Miss Lawler shook her head from side to side. “I spoke with Mr. Johnson,” she answered. “He said Sammy hasn’t come to work today. He’s called in sick.” Miss Lawler looked worried. “I hope he—he’s all right.”

  “What about Hoppy?” Trixie asked. “Did they find him?”

  Nervously Miss Lawler fingered the golden chain around her neck. “There was no sign of the weather vane anywhere,” she said. “It’s disappeared.”

  Trixie drew a long breath. “Somebody has stolen Hoppy!” she exclaimed finally.

  A Stranger in Town Hall • 8

  STOLEN HOPPY?” Di’s eyes widened. “Who would do a thing like that?”

  Honey was speechless.

  Mart scoffed. “Nobody from Sleepyside would steal Hoppy,” he said. “Somebody probably just picked him up and hasn’t turned him in yet.”

  “Hoppy’s a valuable antique,” Trixie reminded him. “A few years ago, someone stole the weather vane from Faneuil Hall in Boston, and I think—”

  “Trixie,” Miss Lawler snapped, her mouth tight with disapproval, “you have no right to make such an accusation. You’re jumping to conclusions, and someone could be badly hurt by your thoughtless words.”

  Trixie’s face grew red. “I—I—didn’t mean—” she faltered.

  “It’s best to think before you speak, Trixie,” Miss Lawler said. She turned and walked away.

  “Wow!” Mart watched the teachers aide hurry from the lunchroom. “What’s she getting so uptight about?”

  “I never saw her lose her cool like that before,” Dan said.

  The bell ending the lunch hour rang, and students began leaving the lunchroom. The Bob-Whites cleared off their table and headed for the door.

  “I still think I’m right,” Trixie said stubbornly. “We should go downtown right after school to tell Mr. Johnson and Sergeant Molinson.”

  “The sergeant isn’t going to be happy to see you again so soon,” Jim warned.

  “I know,” Trixie replied, “but he has to start looking for the thieves right away.”

  When school was over, the Bob-Whites wasted no time driving downtown.

  There were several people standing
around the common, including two police officers. Mr. Johnson, looking upset was talking with the officers.

  “Gleeps, the police are already working on it,” Trixie said.

  “That’s a relief,” Honey said with a sigh.

  Seeing the officers head back to the station, Trixie waved to attract Mr. Johnson s attention. “Hi, Mr. Johnson,” she called. “Any news?”

  The caretaker shook his head. “Nothing, Trixie,” he told her. “The weather vane is gone, and it’s all my fault!”

  “That’s not true,” Honey consoled him. “You couldn’t do anything about the storm.”

  “That wind was pretty strong last night,” Brian agreed.

  But Mr. Johnson refused to be comforted. “No, it’s my fault, all right,” he insisted. “The base of the weather vane has needed fixing for a long time.” Looking up at the cupola on top of the steeply pitched roof, he shook his head. “But that roof is pretty hard climbing for a man my age. I kept putting it off. To tell you the truth, I was going to have that new young helper of mine get to work on the base this week.”

  “You mean Sammy,” Jim said.

  “Yeah, Sammy,” Mr. Johnson repeated. “He said he isn’t afraid to climb. He probably could have fixed that base in no time.” Wearily, Mr. Johnson rubbed his head. “Now it’s too late,” he said sadly.

  Silently the Bob-Whites stared up at the high roof. The cupola looked oddly out of place without the handsome old weather vane in position.

  “Well, I’d better get back to work,” Mr. Johnson said. “I’ve got some papers on my desk that have to go to a roofing contractor this afternoon. I must have been up and down those stairs a dozen times already today.”

  “If you’re tired, I’ll go up and get them for you, Mr. Johnson,” Trixie offered quickly. “Just tell me what to look for.”

  Mr. Johnson told Trixie where to find the papers, and she was off, running across the common to the front door of Town Hall. “See you at the car in a minute or two,” Trixie called back to the other Bob-Whites.