Stopping only to snatch an old jacket from her room, Trixie raced out of the house. Minutes later, as arranged, she met Honey at the bus stop at the bottom of the Wheelers’ driveway.
“Everything all set?” Trixie asked, making sure no one was watching them.
“I still feel guilty,” Honey said, pulling her jacket closer around her. “I told Miss Trask I was sleeping over at your house. You’ve told Brian you’re sleeping over at mine. I just hope no one finds out what fibs we’ve been telling.”
She was still worrying about it when the bus arrived, and by the time they reached Sleepyside, Trixie was feeling just as guilty as her friend.
As she led the way across the town square, she comforted herself with the thought that she and Honey had lied in order to help Mart.
“I still don’t know what we’re supposed to do now,” Honey remarked as, once more, they stood outside Crimper’s Department Store.
“But I do,” Trixie replied. “I’ve got it all worked out. Don’t forget, Honey, I’ve known Crimper’s ever since I was little. I know of a place inside the store where we can hide. Then we’re going to wait until the Midnight Marauder arrives.”
“And what happens after that?” Honey asked.
“We’ll figure that out later—I hope,” Trixie replied.
Honey shivered and looked up and down the street. It was almost as if she expected the Midnight Marauder to appear right then. But all she saw was the usual number of Sunday shoppers.
Trixie glanced at young Mr. Crimper’s glass-fronted office as they hurried into the store, but he wasn’t there, nor did anyone show the slightest interest in their movements.
Soon Trixie had led the way to the creaking old elevator, and moments later, she and Honey were on their way to the second floor.
When they arrived, Trixie stepped out and looked carefully to her right. There, two saleswomen, deep in a conversation of their own, didn’t even look around.
“Quick, Honey, this way!” Trixie muttered as she walked toward a stack of mattresses piled high along one wall.
Honey glanced at the array of bedroom furniture that now surrounded her. “What—” she began.
Trixie was tugging urgently at her arm. Wordlessly, she pointed.
Honey gasped as she saw, beside the mattresses, a small door. “What is it?” she asked.
“It’s an unused cupboard,” Trixie hissed in her ear. “It’s not very deep, but it runs the length of the upper story. I found it once—oh, long ago when Moms was shopping and I got bored.”
While she was talking, she had already grasped the handle and had pulled on it gently. It opened without a sound.
Honey glanced over her shoulder.
“It’s all right,” Trixie told her impatiently. “No one can see us. The mattresses are hiding us from everybody.”
The space inside the cupboard was pitch black. “Is—is this where we’re going to hide?” Honey asked, knowing the answer.
Trixie nodded. “Come on,” she whispered. “Follow me.”
She had to bend almost double to get through the small door, but once she was inside, there was plenty of headroom.
She waited until Honey was standing beside her, and then she closed the door softly behind them.
When their eyes became accustomed to the darkness around them, Trixie could see old pipes and cables running along the outside wall. She guessed the space served as a storage area, too, though she could see little of the boxes around her. There was no light of any kind, and Trixie soon began wishing she had thought to bring one with her.
“What now?” Honey whispered through the darkness.
“Now we wait,” Trixie whispered back. “We can sit on the floor and wait till everyone’s gone.”
“And then?”
Trixie sighed. “And then, if we’re lucky, we’ll be ready to catch the Midnight Marauder.”
Even after the store was closed, Trixie insisted on staying hidden.
The hours passed slowly. Outside, there was no sound. The luminous hands on Honey’s watch showed ten o’clock, eleven, eleven-thirty.
At last, Trixie eased herself quietly to her feet and took a cautious step forward.
“I think it’s safe,” she said at last. “We can wait out there by the mattresses.” She opened the door cautiously and peered around.
Two small lights had been left on. They enabled her to see that the coast was clear.
In another moment, Trixie had motioned for Honey to join her, and soon the two friends stood together in the big deserted store.
Trixie giggled. “We did it, Honey,” she said. “No one even suspected we were there.”
“I know,” Honey replied softly, “but I’ve just thought of something else. How is the Midnight Marauder going to get in here? Surely he’ll know the police are watching the outside and waiting for him.”
Trixie caught her breath. The police! She’d forgotten all about them. Surely the Midnight Marauder must have forgotten about them, too. Why else would he have sent a warning letter to let everyone know where he was going to strike next?
She frowned. “You know, Honey,” she said, “that’s the most puzzling thing of all. The Marauder sent a letter to the school, and to Wimpy’s, and to Manor House—”
“He wasn’t taking much of a chance with the first two places he visited,” Honey said, staring apprehensively at the dark shadows around them. “His letters weren’t delivered until after he’d robbed both places. And he didn’t really visit Manor House, either. He undoubtedly went to the trailer instead, and robbed and vandalized it.” Trixie stared at her. Honey was right! The Midnight Marauder hadn’t taken any chances at all.
“But what’s his purpose?” she asked. “What can he be after?”
Honey giggled nervously. “He’s gone to so much trouble, he must be after a lot of money.“
“But he hasn’t stolen much money,” Trixie said, thinking hard. “The most he got of anything was from Wimpy’s.”
Honey shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s just trying to throw everyone off the track.”
Trixie stood as if frozen to the spot. “Oh, Honey,” she breathed. “I think you’re right again! Suppose you wanted to rob a particular place, but if you did, you’d be the number one suspect. So, to fool everyone, you commit several robberies to make it look like the work of someone else. And suppose it isn’t the first three robberies that are important. It’s the last one. This one.”
“You mean,” Honey said, startled, “that he’s been waiting to rob Crimper’s all along?”
“Yes,” Trixie said, nodding her head, “but not this Crimper’s. Oh, Honey, don’t you see? We’re waiting in the wrong place! Quick! We’ve got to get out of here fast! It’s our last chance to catch the Midnight Marauder in the act! If we fail now, Mart will be under suspicion for the rest of his life!”
Already she was hurrying toward the head of the stairs. Then she stopped, her heart pounding. Someone was moving about on the floor below!
Trixie caught a glimpse of a figure sneaking along the center aisle. She saw a dark shadow at his heels.
Then, suddenly, everything seemed to happen at once. The store’s wide front doors crashed open. Trixie could see the street outside alive with policemen. They carried guns.
“Hold it right there!” one of them yelled from the store’s entrance. “We’ve got you covered!”
The figure stood stock still.
A burly man hurried toward him. “This time we’ve caught you, Mr. Midnight Marauder!” Sergeant Molinson sneered as he shone his flashlight into the intruder’s white face.
And Trixie saw that it was Mart!
Marauder Is Revealed • 18
TRIXIE DIDN’T HESITATE for a second. She almost flew down the rest of the stairs.
“Trixie!” gasped Mart. “What are you doing here?”
“Wait! Oh, please, wait, Sergeant Molinson!” she cried wildly.
Astonishingly, the police sergeant
was waiting, and in another second, Trixie saw why. The dark shadow she had seen at Mart’s heels had now resolved itself into a long canine shape. It had bared teeth. It was growling menacingly.
It was Reddy!
Sergeant Molinson was motioning to his men to stand back. Slowly, Trixie saw him lift his gun.
“No!” she screamed and flung herself forward.
She saw Sergeant Molinson’s startled face turn toward her. Then he caught sight of Honey, who was hurrying toward them.
“Will you look at this?” he yelled. “Here’s two more thieves we’ve caught, right in the act of robbing the place. I should have known all along that the Belden boy had accomplices.”
Trixie didn’t stop to answer. She lunged forward and took a firm grip on Reddy’s collar.
“You’ve got to listen to me!” she cried desperately. “If you don’t—” her mind searched wildly for an effective threat—“I’ll turn my dog loose on all of you. And I’ve got to warn you, he’s a killer!”
Immediately, Reddy stopped growling. His back legs collapsed under him,' and he sat there, wagging his tail. He gazed warmly at Sergeant Molinson and looked the picture of innocence.
Mart didn’t notice. “I didn’t do anything, Trix,” he said. “I heard young Mr. Crimper telling the police about the letter he’d received, that’s all. I decided to try and catch the Midnight Marauder myself. I must have left home just before you did. I came here on my bike. Reddy followed me, but I didn’t notice him till I was almost into town. We’ve been hiding in one of the storage cupboards back there.”
Trixie didn’t give Sergeant Molinson a chance to say anything. Hurriedly, with a worried look at the large clock on the wall, she told the sergeant her suspicions.
Even Mart was surprised when he realized that his sister had worked out the identity of the Midnight Marauder.
“So you see,” Trixie finished at last, “we haven’t got a moment to lose. We’ve got to get over there at once, before the next robbery takes place.”
Sergeant Molinson’s face turned redder than ever. “And you expect me to swallow that yarn?” he asked, grinning over his shoulder at his men. “Nothin’ doin’, kid. Come on, now, you’re coming to the police station with me. And if that dog so much as moves—” He made a threatening gesture toward the gun still clenched in his beefy fist.
Reddy was oblivious to the danger. He sat, still thumping the floor with his tail, and gazed soul-fully at all of them.
Afterward, Trixie wasn’t sure what would have happened if there hadn’t been a sudden disturbance at the entrance.
In the next moment, young Mr. Crimper was striding toward them. “What is all this?” he demanded. “Why are you holding these kids?“
“We caught them in the act of robbing the store,” Sergeant Molinson announced with pride.
“But we weren’t!” Trixie cried. “Oh, Mr. Crimper, maybe you’ll listen. You’ve got to listen! There’s almost no time left!”
Quickly, Trixie told her story for the second time that evening. At the end of it, young Mr. Crimper looked appalled.
“What?” he gasped. “And who is the Midnight Marauder?”
Trixie told him.
After that, things moved more rapidly than Trixie would have believed possible.
Young Mr. Crimper insisted that the police should take immediate action. “If you don’t,” he said, “I’ll make sure the story is given out to all the newspapers.”
“And what a fine story it would make,” a voice said softly.
Turning, Trixie saw the Sun reporter, Vera Parker, notebook in hand and ready to take down in shorthand everything that was said.
When Mr. Crimper pointed out that Sergeant Molinson could still arrest the three Bob-Whites if Trixie’s theory was wrong, there was no more argument.
Soon Trixie found herself with Honey, Mart, and Reddy huddled in the back of a police car, speeding back along Glen Road.
“You wanna drop the dog off at your house?” the young policeman who was driving asked Trixie. He had a hopeful note in his voice, and he slowed down as he neared Crabapple Farm.
“No,” Trixie answered firmly, her hand on Reddy’s collar. “Something tells me that Reddy’s going to be a big help—”
“For a change,” Mart broke in, staring down at the dog. “He almost got me arrested.”
“How is Reddy going to help us?” Honey asked. Trixie sighed. “Up till now,” she said, “no one has seen the Midnight Marauder except Lester Mundy—”
“And Reddy and Patch!” Honey exclaimed, her eyes wide. “And since Lester and Patch aren’t here, that leaves only Reddy to identify the thief.“
“I still don’t understand,” Mart said, shaking his head in puzzlement.
“Figure it out for yourself, Mart,” Trixie said. “There is no way our suspect has ever seen Reddy—except on the night that Wimpy’s was burglarized. I’m certain now that Reddy saw the thief hide the hamburger meat in that old shed. The Marauder didn’t need it, you see, and couldn’t afford to be caught with it. It would have been a dead giveaway. Reddy, on the other hand, thinks he’s made a new friend—a friend who feeds him good, raw hamburger. That’s why Reddy’s been acting so nervous ever since that night. He’s been waiting for his friend to show up with more meat! He’s even been out searching for his new pal. Now, let’s hope, he’s going to identify that new pal in no uncertain terms.”
“I still don’t understand why the Midnight Marauder stole Celia’s necklaces,” Honey said thoughtfully.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if those turn up soon, too,” Trixie answered. “The Midnight Marauder had to make everyone think that all these robberies were the work of a teen-ager, so the only things taken, apart from small sums of money—“
“—were just window dressing,” Mart finished. “Yes, I see it all now. Hey, Trix,” he grinned at her, “I guess your brain isn’t so pea-sized, after all.”
Trixie bit her lip. “Don’t say that, Mart,” she said, her voice low. “I could still be wrong. Suppose the Midnight Marauder doesn’t show up. Suppose—”
She was still worrying about it as the police car turned onto the Albany Post Road. It glided to a silent stop outside the tall Victorian house, hidden from view by some bushes. As it did so, three other police cars coasted to a quiet halt behind it.
Trixie had time to notice that Vera Parker, reporter’s notebook in hand, had successfully begged a ride from Sergeant Molinson.
Now Vera Parker glanced at the three nervous Bob-Whites and said, “I know I owe you kids an apology. I’m sure now that I was wrong about what I wrote in my article. I think you kids are okay.”
“Wow!” Mart breathed, as she hurried away. “And she doesn’t even know yet whether Trixie’s theory is right.”
The wait seemed interminable. Twice, Trixie thought she saw the Midnight Marauder crouching low in the bushes of the front yard. Twice, it was only one of Sergeant Molinson’s men. The rest were deployed around the remaining grounds.
At long last, their patience was rewarded. Slowly, a figure detached itself from the shadows and crept toward the house.
Honey gasped. “It’s the Midnight Marauder!”
A warning pressure from Trixie’s fingers on her arm silenced her.
The mysterious figure carefully placed something in a flower bed by a window. Then it cautiously broke a small pane of glass, unlocked and opened the window, and climbed inside. After what seemed like hours, the figure again appeared in the window. It climbed out onto the windowsill and dropped lightly to the ground. It carried a small sack clutched in one hand.
Placing it gently on the ground, the thief then reached down to the flower bed for the object hidden there.
Quickly the thief moved to a blank wall at the side of the house. The figure raised its arm. The nozzle of a paint can was ready to write its impudent message once more!
All this time, Reddy had been squirming and whining softly, while Trixie kept a tight grip on
his collar. Suddenly Trixie let go of his collar, and he bounded from her side.
The three Bob-Whites had never seen him run so fast. With his long tail streaming behind him, he flung himself toward that figure, who was dressed in dark slacks and a lighter-tone shirt. The stillness of the night was shattered by Reddy’s loud, joyous cries of welcome.
Trixie watched as he hurled himself into the totally unprepared arms of his new friend. Trixie had time only to feel a pang of sympathy for the figure, who was struggling to escape Reddy’s slobbering kisses of welcome.
Then the police closed in, and the excitement was all over.
“This time we’ve really caught you, Midnight Marauder!” Sergeant Molinson announced, for the second time that evening. Then he couldn’t resist adding—without looking at Trixie, “I knew it was you all along.”
He snapped the handcuffs around two slim wrists and stared at his prisoner. The prisoner was—the antique dealer, Margo Birch!
Trixie had no chance to explain too much to the other Bob-Whites until after school the next day. Then they met in their clubhouse and listened quietly to all she had to say.
“Of course,” Trixie finished, “Margo Birch was after those jewelry boxes all along. Most of them were junk—but one wasn’t.”
“The ballerina?” Honey asked.
Trixie nodded. “Yes, that’s the one. Somehow Grandpa Crimper had managed to find one true work of art along with all the other junk he bought. Margo Birch recognized its worth as soon as she saw it. She’s now told the police it’s worth ten thousand dollars. It once belonged to a Russian empress, you see.”
Brian was silent. He still regretted sleeping through the previous night’s excitement. He had known nothing until Sergeant Molinson, personally, had escorted Trixie, Mart, Honey, and a disappointed Reddy to Crabapple Farm.
Honey stirred. “I’m glad I didn’t really fib too badly to Miss Trask,” she said, looking at Trixie.
“I did finish up spending the night with you, didn’t I?”
Jim frowned. “All the same, Honey, I don’t think you should do anything like that again.” Honey sighed. “No, you’re right. It could have been a dangerous situation.”
The Mystery of the Midnight Marauder Page 12
