The Pet Show Mystery

by Campbell, Julie

  “How do you know where to find them?” Trixie asked, closing her textbook as she got up and moved over to the chair in which her brother was sprawled.

  “The computer, in its vast wisdom, tells me where they are.” Mart produced a sheaf of printout paper and handed it to his sister.

  Trixie began to read it aloud. “ ‘Caution— word is not set above. Fatal—missing end statement. Caution—incorrect argument type. Warning—substring constant outside bounds.’ Gleeps, are all of these ‘cautions’ and ‘warnings’ and ‘fatals’ errors in the program?” Trixie asked.

  “Errors or potential errors. One simply corrects them or ignores them. Unfortunately,” Mart added, “another error seems to crop up

  to take the place of each corrected one.” It seemed to Trixie that a slight frown had replaced Mart’s usually confident look.

  “But will it finally work?” Trixie asked. “The pet show is less than a week and a half away!”

  “The program will be functioning by then, I assure you.” Mart spoke calmly, but he took the program out of Trixie’s hands with a little more energy than was necessary.

  Trixie rose and walked slowly back to the chair she’d abandoned along with her attempts at studying. She had just settled in when the phone rang. She jumped to her feet again. “I’ll get it!” she called.

  When she answered the phone, she was surprised to hear Nick’s voice. “How’s everything going?” he asked.

  “Fine,” Trixie said. “How’s everything with you?”

  There was a slight hesitation before Nick spoke again. “I’m fine, too. But, um, has something gone wrong with the pet show?”

  Trixie felt a cold clutch of fear in her stomach. “N-no. Not that I know of. Why?”

  “Well, I had the radio on while I was studying just now, and the announcer on WSTH said that the pet show had been canceled. But I guess I just misunderstood, since you didn’t say you called it off.”

  “The show is on—but maybe you did hear it was canceled,” Trixie said.

  “I don’t understand,” Nick told her.

  “I don’t, either. But I’m going to find out. Thanks for calling, Nick.” Trixie said goodbye quickly, hung up the phone, and hurried into the den. “Nick Roberts just heard on the radio that the pet show has been canceled,” she told her brothers.

  “Canceled?” Brian said. “Who’d do a thing like that?”

  “I don’t know,” Trixie said grimly, “but I intend to find out.”

  She was on her way back to the telephone when it rang again. This time when she answered it, she heard Honey Wheeler’s distraught voice: “Trixie, the most awful thing has happened!”

  “You heard the announcement on the radio,” Trixie guessed.

  “Did you hear it, too?” Honey asked.

  “I didn’t. Nick Roberts did, and he called to tell me about it. It’s another act of sabotage, Honey. I’m sure of it.”

  “What will we do?” Honey wailed.

  “First, I’ll call the radio station and let them know the show isn’t canceled. Then I’ll try to find out who started this,” Trixie said.

  “I’ll let you go, then. Let me know what happens,” Honey said as she hung up.

  Trixie looked up the telephone number for the radio station with trembling hands. She dialed the number, and the announcer himself answered.

  “My name is Trixie Belden,” she told him. “You just announced that a pet show I’m helping with has been canceled. That information is wrong. Could you tell me where you heard it?”

  “Why, from you,” the announcer said. “Or someone who claimed to be Trixie Belden. But the voice was nothing like yours. I’m sorry if there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  There’s that word again, Trixie thought. But this is more serious than a simple misunderstanding. Aloud she only said, “The pet show hasn’t been canceled. It’s important to us that everybody knows that.”

  “Of course. I’ll make the announcement several times tonight. I’ll make sure the morning announcer mentions it, too. I’m sure there will be no permanent harm done from this.”

  I hope not, Trixie thought uneasily. She thanked the announcer and hung up.

  “What happened, Trix?” Brian asked. “Did you get it all straightened out?”

  Trixie told her brothers about the announcer’s call from the imposter, and about his promise to set the record straight.

  “That was a close one,” Mart said. “It’s lucky we caught it when we did, so there’s no harm done.”

  “Maybe next time we won’t be so lucky,” Trixie muttered.

  “Let’s hope there won’t be a next time,” Brian said.

  “What if just hoping isn’t enough?” Trixie challenged him. “I think we should be doing something to stop the sabotage.”

  “Like what?” Brian asked. “We have no suspects, and no idea what the motive is behind the acts of sabotage. We don’t even know that it is sabotage.”

  “Oh, come on!” Trixie said impatiently. Brian raised his hand to fend off Trixie’s protest. “All right, the rumor and the cancellation announcement are suspicious. But how can we prove anything?”

  “The proof has to be somewhere,” Trixie said stubbornly.

  “Maybe,” Brian acknowledged. “But finding it would take too much time and energy, and we don’t have enough of either one.”

  “That is a reiteration of a reasonable rationale,” Mart added.

  Realizing that there was no point in arguing with her brothers, Trixie went back to the telephone, this time to call Honey Wheeler.

  “Is everything straightened out?” Honey asked as soon as she picked up the phone.

  “Well, the show is uncanceled. But we have to figure out who’s responsible for the sabotage, Honey. Otherwise—” Trixie let the unspoken threat hang in the air.

  “I don’t even know where to start,” Honey said hopelessly.

  “I do—with Paul Gale.”

  “You think he called the radio station and pretended to be you?” Honey asked, totally baffled.

  “I don’t think he did, but he could have asked his assistant to make the call.”

  “Have you told Brian and Mart about your suspicions?”

  “They’d just laugh at me. And this is no laughing matter.”

  “But what can we do? The boys won’t believe us without more proof, and nobody else will believe us if they don’t.”

  “We’ll have to get more proof, then.”

  “But how? Do you have a plan?”

  Just as Honey asked the question, an idea came to Trixie’s mind. It was far from foolproof, she realized; it was also far from comfortable, but— “There’s something we can try,” Trixie said. “It just might work. Bring extra-warm clothes to school tomorrow, and tell your parents you’ll be home late.”

  “But what—”

  “I can’t tell you more right now, because I don’t know any more. I’ll have it all figured out by tomorrow. See you then.” Trixie hung up before Honey could ask for more information.

  The next afternoon, the girls told their brothers they’d be taking the second bus home. “We have an errand to run in town,” Trixie said vaguely.

  Then they ducked into the washroom to pull on the extra sweatshirts and tights they’d brought along that morning.

  “I can hardly move,” Honey said as she zipped up her jacket over four layers of clothes.

  “Well, you aren’t dressed for moving. You’re dressed for waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  Trixie, enjoying the suspense but also concerned about her plan, only answered, “You’ll see.”

  The two girls left the school and retraced their steps to the World Anti-Hunger Foundation office. The alley next to the building was narrower than Trixie had remembered. It had a high fence at the back. “Get in there, out of sight,” she told Honey. She darted in behind her friend just long enough to open her book bag and get out a rolled-up poster announcing the pet show, a s
mall package of thumbtacks, and a hammer.

  Honey watched, wide-eyed, but didn’t ask any more questions. Trixie didn’t offer any more information, either, until after she had darted out of the little alley, tacked the poster up on a telephone pole outside the foundation office, and ducked back into the alley again.

  “Now we wait for Paul Gale to see the poster,” Trixie said.

  “Then what?” Honey asked, already stomping her feet as the cold air began to nip at them.

  “We see how he reacts,” Trixie said. “Remember that time I’d suspected Nick Roberts of sabotaging one of our events because I saw him tear a flier off the wall at school? Well, I started thinking that if Paul Gale hates the pet show as much as we think he does, he’d probably react pretty violently if he saw a poster for it.”

  “So if Paul Gale comes along and rips down our poster, it means he’s the saboteur?” Honey said skeptically.

  “Of course not,” said Trixie. “It just means he’s worth keeping an eye on. Maybe we can even convince Jim and Brian and Mart of that fact.”

  Honey sniffed, but it was from the biting cold, not in response to Trixie’s statement. “We have no idea how long it might take Paul Gale to come along and see the poster, though, do we?”

  Trixie shook her head. “That’s why I said to wear warm clothes.”

  The girls’ conversation stopped for a while. They concentrated on watching the telephone pole, and on keeping warm. The second task proved impossible. Within minutes, Trixie’s feet had begun to ache from the cold. Stamping them to warm them only produced more pain. Then her nose began to tingle, and she covered it with a mittened hand. But the moisture from her breath soon made the mitten damp. She knew that wet cold could cause more trouble than dry cold, so she lowered her hand. The cold air slapped her in the face like a giant fist.

  She glanced over at her best friend. Although Honey was no longer as delicate as she once had been, her naturally slender frame gave her very little protection against the cold. Honey’s eyes were bright with standing tears, and her cheeks were crimson.

  We aren’t going to be able to stay out here very long, Trixie thought. This idea is too risky to be worth getting sick over.

  Just then, the girls heard footsteps on the sidewalk. Trixie drew farther back into the alley, to be sure that her shadow couldn’t be seen on the walk. Then, carefully, she edged forward again until she could see around the corner of the building.

  What she saw made her gasp.

  “What is it?” Honey whispered.

  “Somebody’s standing right in front of the phone pole, reading the poster,” Trixie said.

  “Is it Paul Gale?” Honey asked.

  “I can’t tell. All I can see is his back. He’s reaching toward the poster. He’s—”

  The ripping noise told Honey all she needed to know. “He tore it down, didn’t he?”

  Trixie nodded excitedly. “He did! He—uhoh. Honey, duck back. He’s heading this way!”

  Honey scrambled backward, pressing against the wall of the building. Trixie moved back next to her.

  The two girls waited in silence as the footsteps drew near. Trixie found herself holding her breath.

  Then they felt a sudden gloom as a shadow fell across the little alley where they were standing. The man was coming closer....

  Poster still in hand, the man was soon standing right in front of the alley, staring at Trixie and Honey, blocking their way out.

  9 * The End of a Suspect

  “I BELIEVE this belongs to you,” the man said, holding the poster out to Trixie and Honey.

  Trixie recognized the nice man from Sleepyside Mall. There seemed to be an amused twinkle in his eyes. “I put it on the telephone pole,” she told him. Instinctively, she knew she had nothing to fear from him, but the fear she’d felt before she recognized him still hadn’t completely gone away.

  “Would you mind telling me why?” he asked. He continued to hold the poster out to the girls. With its bright yellow paper and bold black lettering, it seemed to demand an explanation.

  “We’re trying to get people to come to the pet show,” Honey said bravely. “The posters are good publicity.”

  “Do you specifically need to have Paul Gale in attendance?” the man said in a sarcastic but gentle voice.

  Trixie felt a momentary whirl of confusion. How would she explain her suspicious behavior? Then she thought reasonably, I don’t have to explain—at least, not until this man does. After all, he’s been behaving as strangely as we have!

  Lifting her chin in a show of confidence she didn’t really feel, Trixie asked, “Could you get Paul Gale to come to the show? You seem to be pretty close to him—after all, being parked across the street is pretty close....”

  The man’s eyes darkened in a look that could have been either fear or anger. For a moment, Trixie felt another surge of nervousness. Here I am, trapped between two buildings by a man whose name I don’t even know, and I’m telling him he’s been acting suspiciously. Dumb, Trixie, really dumb.

  But the man’s agitated look was quickly replaced by the calm mildness that Trixie had seen before and instinctively trusted. “You’re very observant,” he said.

  “I—” Trixie started to say that Honey had been the one to notice the occupant of the parked car. But she realized that she might be letting her friend in for danger, not praise. “I saw your car over there once, yesterday afternoon,” she concluded lamely.

  “Mmmm.” The man quickly changed the subject. “It certainly is cold out here,” he said. “You two girls must be nearly frozen.”

  “We are,” Honey admitted.

  “There’s a nice little cafe around the corner,” the man said. “Why don’t the three of us go over there and have something warm to drink while we continue our little chat.” Trixie took a closer look at him. There can’t he any danger in drinking hot chocolate with him, she thought.

  Just as she was about to voice her agreement, Honey spoke up. “I’ll have hot chocolate with four marshmallows.”

  The man laughed his low, hearty laugh. Trixie once again felt assured that she had nothing to fear from him. “Off we go, then,” he said, standing back from the alley and gesturing the two girls out ahead of him. “By the way,” he said, with a tip of his hat, “my name is David Llewelyn.”

  Trixie and Honey introduced themselves, then tucked their hands into their pockets and their chins into their collars for the walk to the cafe.

  The silence lingered for a few seconds after the three of them were settled on the springy, vinyl-covered seats of a back booth. Trixie and Honey clutched their thick white mugs in both hands, enjoying the warmth. David Llewelyn made small circles with his coffee cup on the scratched and scarred wood table.

  Soon Trixie began to feel nervous again. The only cure, she knew, was to end the silence. “So. Are you one of Paul Gale’s followers?” she asked.

  David Llewelyn looked up, slightly startled. Then his eyes took on their amused twinkle once again. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose I am. But I believe I was the first to ask for an explanation, back there by the foundation office. So I think you should be the first to give one.”

  Trixie hesitated, but Honey seemed to have warmed to David Llewelyn. “We think he might be trying to sabotage the pet show,” she said. Quickly, she sketched in the details— Gale’s criticism of the show on television, the rumor, and the cancellation announcement on the radio. As she spoke, she seemed to realize how sketchy the details were; how thin the thread was that linked Paul Gale to the sabotage. .“We aren’t ready to accuse him of anything, of course,” she added. “That’s why we put up the poster and waited for his reaction to it. We need more proof that he’s our man.” David Llewelyn listened to Honey with an expression of calm seriousness. When she had finished, however, he shook his head. “I don’t think the sabotage is the kind of thing Paul Gale would do.”

  “I know it seems strange, when he has such a reputation for good deeds, but—
” Honey’s defense of their suspicion was cut short by a gesture of David Llewelyn’s upraised hand.

  “That isn’t why I doubt your theory,” he said. “I am not blinded by the bright light of Paul Gale’s reputation, believe me. Nonetheless, I am not willing to believe that he has been actively sabotaging your pet show. That simply doesn’t fit in with—”

  The half-sentence lingered in the air. David Llewelyn busied himself with pouring another cup of coffee from the carafe, adding a precise measure of cream, and stirring slowly and carefully.

  Eventually, it became obvious that he had no intention of finishing the sentence—at least, not voluntarily.

  “Doesn’t fit in with what?” Trixie asked bluntly.

  David Llewelyn lifted his spoon out of the cup and shook it gently. He set it on the saucer. Then he picked up the cup and held it, seeming to weigh it. Finally he took a sip, set the cup down, and asked, “Can you girls keep a secret?”

  Trixie felt a thump of excitement in her chest. “You bet,” she said.

  “Of course we can,” Honey said.

  David Llewelyn shook his head again. “I believe that you mean what you say, but I don’t know if you understand how important this particular secret is. You can’t confide in another friend or your parents or a favorite teacher—nobody.”

  “We know about secrets,” Trixie said sternly.

  The look of confidence in her eyes seemed to convince David Llewelyn. He folded his hands on the table and began to talk. “The idea of Paul Gale sabotaging your pet show doesn’t fit in with what I’ve learned about him as a special investigator assigned to his case for the past six months,” he said.

  Trixie was breathless for a moment as the words sank in. She felt Honey shift excitedly on the seat next to her.

  David Llewelyn seemed purposely to have made his most startling announcement first. When he spoke again, it was in a more leisurely way. “I’m employed by the state Attorney General’s office,” he said. “I have been an investigator for nearly twenty-five years. My specialty is large-scale consumer fraud cases. That means someone is cheating the public out of thousands and thousands of dollars.