“Do I ever,” Honey replied.
“That time, someone dressed up as a ghostly horseman to scare us away from a mystery. I’ll bet that silly ghost was doing the same thing. But who was it?”
“I don’t c-care,” Di said, her voice quavering. “I’m scared. What happened to Mart and Dan, anyway? Why aren’t they here?”
Lost in trying to figure out who the ghost could have been, Trixie had forgotten all about the boys. But now, shaking herself out of her musing, she became aware of a commotion coming from the direction of the Manor House.
“I wonder what’s happening at the Manor House?” Trixie asked. Without waiting for an answer, she started running up the driveway. Honey and Di followed right behind her. As they rounded the bend, they saw lights blazing. The big front door was wide open, spilling light onto the veranda and the circular drive. People were moving about inside, and the girls could hear the faint whine of a police siren heading their way.
“What the...” Trixie began. But before she could voice the question, Mart came bounding down the steps to meet them.
“You girls missed everything,” he said. “Out in the woods chasing phony treasure, while we were here with the real action!”
“What happened?” Honey asked, her voice heavy with dread. She started for the house. “I’d better see if Miss Trask is all right.”
The three young people quickly followed Honey into the house. There was Miss Trask, standing in the middle of a pile of silver and haphazardly scattered paintings.
“Honey,” she said with a weak smile. “Thank heavens you’re here!”
“What happened?” Honey asked softly as her eyes took in the mess in the foyer. “Why is all this stuff here on the floor?”
“Someone tried to rob the house,” Miss Trask said, sounding shaken. “I was upstairs in my room, reading, and the house was dark. I guess they thought no one was home. I heard footsteps downstairs and I thought it was you, so I opened my door and called you—-just to let you know I was awake.
“Suddenly there was all this thumping, then the sound of a car starting. I started to go downstairs, because I thought that you might be in some kind of trouble. But when I flipped on the light switch, there was no one here, just this pile of things. I started to scream and then I heard the sound of crunching metal, as if a car had hit something.”
“I know,” said Regan. He was wearing his pajamas, and had just come out of the dining room. “That’s when I woke up. I heard the crash and I heard Miss Trask screaming, so I ran up to the house. It looks as if she interrupted the burglars. They left before loading up all these valuables.”
“That’s when we came in,” Dan said, looking around grimly. “We were just coming out of the woods when a car shot out of the driveway.”
“It was probably the getaway car,” Mart said helpfully.
“I do hope nothing’s missing,” said Miss Trask. Her voice sounded worried and frightened as she gestured to the glittering array in the hall. “But I just can’t go through it all now. There’s so much.”
“Here come the police,” Bill Regan said. “That sure was quick!”
The sirens came screaming up the driveway, then the noise was abruptly cut off. The sound of car doors slamming was followed by heavy footsteps as Sergeant Molinson and two other policemen came striding into the house.
“It looks like you stopped them before too much was taken,” Sergeant Molinson said, looking around. “Have you touched anything?”
“No, sergeant,” Regan answered quietly. “This is exactly the way we found it.”
Miss Trask had been looking suspiciously at the pile, when suddenly a smile of relief crossed her face. “Well, at least the Renoir wasn’t in the group of paintings they planned to take,” she said. “Maybe they didn’t see it. It is rather small, you know.”
“And who was in the house at the time?” asked the sergeant, glancing briefly at the crowd of young people in the room.
“Only me,” said Miss Trask. “Regan and the boys heard me screaming, and they came first. Then Trixie, Honey, and Di arrived after we’d called you. Mart and Dan may have seen the car, however.”
Sergeant Molinson shifted his attention to the two boys. “Is what Miss Trask says correct? Did you see the car?”
“Well, yes and no,” Mart said sheepishly. “We saw a car come out of the driveway at top speed, but we couldn’t see what kind of car it was. It was too dark.”
“They were driving without headlights, sir,” Dan said.
Sergeant Molinson grunted. Then he turned to his men. “I’ll bet it’s the same bunch. Take a look around, will you?”
The two policemen left the room, one heading into the living room, and the other out the front door.
“The men will see if they can find any clues around the house,” he said glumly. “We’ll dust for fingerprints, of course. But if it’s the same burglars, they won’t leave any prints. Now, Miss Trask, would you step into the living room with me? I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Miss Trask led the way. When the sergeant got to the large double doors, he turned back to the little group in the foyer. “Please don’t leave yet,” he told them. “I’d like to talk with you when I’m through.”
Honey sank down on a damask chair and began to rub her forehead. “I can’t believe it,” she said weakly. “I’d better call my parents. They have to know about this.”
Di sat down on the arm of the chair and rubbed the back of Honey’s neck. Trixie was lost in thought again. Gripping her flashlight, she turned and walked out the front door.
“Hey, Trixie,” Mart called after her, “Sergeant Molinson said—”
“I know what he said, and I’m coming right back,” Trixie said hastily. “There’s something I have to check first. It might be a clue.” Trixie quickly walked down the broad front steps of the Manor House, and stood uncertainly in the driveway. Turning on the flashlight, she scanned the loose gravel. The broad beam of light swung slowly back and forth as she walked around the circular drive. At last, on the east side of the great curve, she found what she was looking for—deep skid marks in the gravel.
Thoughtfully, she stared at the marks, determining their direction. Then Trixie continued along the circular drive until she came to the point where it joined the tree-lined road leading off the estate. There at the corner of the well-manicured lawn stood a big oak tree. Trixie walked over to it and shone her flashlight beam on the lower part of its trunk.
What she saw confirmed her suspicions. Hunks of bark had been gouged out of the tree. This must have been what the car hit, Trixie reasoned. Miss Trask said she’d heard the sound of crunching metal after the car had started. If the burglars were driving fast without headlights, they probably missed the turn right here. Bending close, Trixie carefully scanned the damaged tree and found flakes of yellow paint stuck to the trunk.
“Just as I thought,” she muttered.
Straightening up quickly, Trixie ran back to the house and went inside. Mart and Dan were with Sergeant Molinson, and Honey was on the phone, speaking tearfully with her father. Miss Trask stood next to her, an arm resting affectionately on the girl’s shoulders.
Not wanting to interrupt, Trixie went over to Di, who was looking nervously at the pile of almost-stolen goods.
“Why is Honey crying?” Trixie asked softly.
“It’s the Renoir,” Di whispered back. “When Miss Trask was in the living room with Sergeant Molinson, she saw that it wasn’t hanging on the wall. Since it isn’t in the pile, either, it must be gone.”
“Oh, no,” Trixie said. “What are they going to do?”
“Try to catch the burglars, I guess,” Di answered sadly. “But if the newspaper stories are true, that won’t be easy. Sergeant Molinson thinks it’s the same bunch, and they haven’t been able to catch them so far.”
The double doors to the living room swung open, and a subdued Dan and Mart came out into the foyer.
“Sorry we
couldn’t be of more help,” Dan said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sergeant Molinson said gruffly. “I think that’s all for now. You kids better get home.”
“What about us?” Trixie asked. “Don’t you need to question us, too? I think I might have a clue.”
“I doubt it, since you weren’t here when all this happened,” Sergeant Molinson answered abruptly. He turned to Dan and Mart. “Would you see that the young ladies get home safely? We have a lot more work ahead of us, and it’s past their bedtime.”
“Past my bedtime!” Trixie burst out angrily. But at a warning glance from Dan, she quieted down, a look of grim determination on her face.
If the sergeant isn’t interested in what I have to say, she thought, then I can’t force him to listen.
“It would be better for all concerned if you kids didn’t get involved,” the sergeant said with a pointed stare at Trixie. He never liked it when Trixie tried to get involved in a case. “Now I want you all to head on home.”
Everyone said their good-byes. Dan and Mart accompanied Di and Trixie down the driveway. When they reached Glen Road, they separated. Dan walked Di home since it was on his way. The Beldens walked up the road to Crabapple Farm in silence. It had been an exciting day, and Trixie was too tired to talk. Besides, she needed to think.
“Is that you, children?” Mrs. Belden called from her bedroom.
“Yes, Moms,” Trixie answered. Then she switched off the downstairs hall light and climbed slowly up the stairs. Mrs. Belden always kept the light on when the children were out late.
As she closed her bedroom door behind her, Trixie tried to organize the events of the night in a logical way. She realized with a start that in all the excitement of the burglary, she had completely forgotten to mention the ghost to anyone. She was glad that Honey and Di had seen it, too, so she couldn’t be accused of making things up. But who could it have been? Who would want to go to the trouble of putting on such a creepy charade to scare them away?
Trixie considered the possible suspects. There was Charles Miller, of course. He was trying awfully hard to get her and Honey away from the village site. But Charles Miller hadn’t been in Sleepyside tonight. He was working in the city, as usual.
It could have been Harry, too. But Harry drove a yellow Volkswagen, and that gave Trixie the idea that he was busy doing something else tonight—something far more lucrative than scaring a bunch of girls in the woods!
It was confusing. If Trixie’s figuring was correct, both men would have to have been in two places at the same time. And that was impossible.
Trixie decided to sleep on it, and hoped that some answers would come to her by morning. As her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
10 * In the Cave
At breakfast the next morning, Trixie was greeted by a very worried Helen Belden.
“Good morning, Moms,” she said with a puzzled look at her mother.
“Oh, Trixie, I’m so upset. Have you seen Reddy?” Mrs. Belden’s forehead was furrowed with concern. “He wasn’t in the house this morning, and he isn’t outside, either. Did he come home with you last night?”
Trixie’s hand flew up to her mouth in horror. “Oh, no!” she gasped. “He was with us in the woods, but he went off with Mart and Dan when they went for the shovels. I didn’t see him after that. I forgot—I mean, what with the burglary and everything!”
“The burglary!” Now it was Mrs. Belden’s turn to look shocked. “What burglary?” While Trixie ate her cereal, she told her mother what had happened at the Manor House the night before.
“So, you see,” she finished lamely, “I wasn’t even thinking about Reddy. I guess I just assumed that he came home while we were talking to Sergeant Molinson.”
“This is dreadful,” said Mrs. Belden. “I hope they catch the crooks. But I’m worried about Reddy. It’s very unusual for him to stay out all night like this.”
“Should I start looking for him right now?” Trixie asked. “I could miss work today.”
“Oh no, dear,” Mrs. Belden said as she cleared the table distractedly. “I would be happier if you went to work. I’ll look for him this morning. I’m sure he’ll turn up someplace. I just don’t want to upset Bobby. You know how he gets.”
“If he isn’t home by this afternoon,” Trixie said, “I’ll look for him instead of going to the dig.”
“Darling, it’s 7:30,” Mrs. Belden said. “I think you’d better get going. I’ll make a few calls before Bobby gets up. Maybe a neighbor has seen Reddy.”
Trixie grabbed her cap, and headed for the door. “See you later, Moms,” she called as the door banged behind her.
Trixie was very busy all morning at the hospital. She was so worried about Reddy that she called home on her break. But no one answered the phone. It was close to 12 o’clock before she had a chance to look in on Professor Conroy.
Trixie opened the stairwell door to the second floor, and started down the corridor. But she stopped short when she saw Professor Conroy’s door open, and Harry step into the hall! He glanced briefly in Trixie’s direction, then disappeared around the corner, heading for the elevators.
Trixie’s breath caught in her throat. Then she relaxed. I guess he didn’t recognize me in this candy-striper uniform, she thought. I wonder what he’s doing here, and why he’s visiting Professor Conroy?
Then Trixie had a horrible thought—Harry was Charles Miller’s friend, not Professor Conroy’s. And it was Charles, she suspected, who had put Professor Conroy in the hospital in the first place! That might mean Harry was going to harm the professor, too.
Trixie broke into a run. She flung open the door to the professor’s room.
“Oh, hello there, Miss Belden,” the professor said when he saw Trixie come running in. “My, my, you certainly do rush around.” Relieved to see that the professor was all right, Trixie suddenly felt silly for the way she’d come barging in. She started to apologize. “I-I’m so sorry, Professor Conroy,” she stammered. “I hope I didn’t alarm you.”
“Oh, no. Don’t give it a second thought,” he replied, smiling cheerfully. “It can get very dull just lying in bed all day without talking to anyone.”
Trixie moved closer to the bed. She could see that Professor Conroy seemed to be in good spirits, yet he looked much sicker than he had the day before. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes, and his skin looked pale and gray.
“I just saw someone come out of your room,” Trixie said, filled with concern. “Are you well enough to have visitors?”
Professor Conroy glanced at her sharply. “I had no visitors,” he said. “You must be mistaken.”
“Why, I could have sworn I saw Harry coming out of—” Trixie began, but she stopped when she saw a look of irritation sweep over Professor Conroy’s face.
“Miss Belden,” he said, “perhaps whoever you think you saw was coming out of some other room.”
Embarrassed, Trixie looked down at her feet. I know what I saw, she thought. After all, there’s only a vacant room and a supply closet at this end of the hall. What would Harry be doing in the supply closet?
Her eyes came to rest on a pair of shoes neatly placed at the side of the bed. They were caked with thick, sticky mud. The professor shouldn’t be wearing shoes here. He should have some slippers, she thought. Then Trixie remembered that the professor had come to the hospital unexpectedly. Perhaps he doesn’t have slippers, and no one thought to bring him any, either.
“Why, you don’t have any slippers,” Trixie said in a rush of concern. “Would you like me to bring you a pair? They’ll be more comfortable than these shoes.”
Professor Conroy chuckled. “Very kind of you to think of it, but I don’t need slippers, or even shoes, for that matter. The good doctor has told me I can’t get up at all, not even to use the facilities. Most distressing.”
“Oh. Would you like me to put these away for you, then?”
“If you please. Most kind o
f you, most kind.” Thinking that sometime she would clean the mud off the professor’s shoes, Trixie put them in the closet. Then she fluffed up the sick man’s pillows.
Before leaving the room, Trixie said, “Feel free to ask me for anything you need, Professor Conroy. I’d be glad to help you anytime.” Then she backed out the door.
“Most kind,” the professor muttered drowsily. He closed his eyes and turned his head away from her.
“The poor professor,” Trixie said to Honey that afternoon as they made their way to the dig site. “He looks even worse today than he did yesterday.”
“I guess he took quite a knock on the head,” Honey answered.
“Maybe Charles hit him harder than he’d intended,” Trixie said grimly. “And that reminds me, Reddy didn’t come home last night. If Moms hasn’t found him yet, we should look for him in the woods, or ask the students if they’ve seen him.”
“Reddy’s probably at the dig right now,” Honey said, trying to sound reassuring. “Remember, they have cookouts over the fire. He was probably lured by the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers.”
“I hope you’re right,” Trixie said with a sigh. “Moms is really worried about him.”
“I’m worried, too,” Honey said. “It was nice of your mom to make us this picnic lunch, anyway.”
“Well, she wanted us to start looking for Reddy right away,” Trixie said. “She thought we’d waste time if we ate at home first.” Trixie and Honey trudged along the road. When they came to the main dig site, they saw a truck parked near the tents. Charles Miller and a short, heavyset man were having a loud conversation. Several graduate students were standing around listening with interest. As the girls got closer, they were able to hear better.
“I don’t give a hoot what your piece of paper says,” Charles was snarling at the man. “I have a copy of our order here, and it says, ‘Five dozen cartons of three-by-five cards, ten boxes of large manila envelopes, two cartons of self-adhesive labels, and a gross of flat, corrugated cartons.’ I won’t accept this delivery, and that’s final!”
The Indian Burial Ground Mystery Page 7
