“Go ahead, Honey,” Jim said. “I’ll clear it with Miss Trask. I know you girls have a lot to talk about.”
Jim’s tone was casual, but Trixie knew that he’d had some inkling of the fight between Trixie and Honey and understood their need to have some time alone to talk. “Thanks, Jim,” Trixie said sincerely. “Come on, Honey, let’s go!”
When the girls walked into Trixie’s house, the delicious smell of Mrs. Belden’s pot roast was already wafting through the house. Trixie burst into the kitchen with Honey right behind her. “Moms, can Honey stay for dinner and sleep over? Jim is going to ask Miss Trask.”
“That sounds fine, dear,” Mrs. Belden said. “In fact, with all of you home from school so late, I can use the extra pair of hands to get dinner on the table by the time your father gets here.”
“Gleeps, that’s right! This is the night that Daddy gets back from his business trip. I can’t wait to see him! Honey, let’s hurry upstairs and change clothes. We’ll be right back, Moms!” Trixie promised as she rushed out of the kitchen.
“Hold on, Trixie,” Honey said as she scurried to keep up. “I thought you were tired!”
Trixie giggled. “I guess the smell of Moms’s pot roast revived me.”
In Trixie’s room, the girls changed clothes, with Honey borrowing a pair of Trixie’s jeans and a T-shirt. “You know, Trixie, our families aren’t so different, after all. At least, we both change clothes before dinner.”
“That’s right,” Trixie agreed. “Only at your house, you have to change into a dress, and here you have to change out of it!”
“I think I like your way better,” Honey confided. The formal dinners at the Wheeler home, with candlelight and Celia Delanoy, the maid, serving the food, were never as much fun as the meals shared by the noisy Belden clan. “Speaking of dressing, Trixie,” Honey continued, “I’ll have to go home after dinner and pick up a dress to wear to school tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t, Honey,” Trixie told her. “Remember week before last, when you came over here after school and borrowed my clothes and Brian’s bike so that we could go for a ride? You left your school dress here, and it’s nicely laundered, thanks to Moms, and hanging in my closet.”
“Oh, Trixie, I shouldn’t have caused her that extra work. Remind me to thank her for it when we get downstairs,” Honey said.
“I’m sure she’ll be happy to let you make up for the extra work by helping with dinner,” Trixie assured her. “Let’s go.”
Downstairs, Mrs. Belden handed out assignments to her willing helpers. Honey was put in charge of getting Bobby ready for dinner, to the delight of both girls. Honey was devoted to the rambunctious six-year-old, since she missed having younger brothers and sisters of her own. Trixie was more than happy to give Honey the chore for once.
Just as Honey led the shiny-faced Bobby back downstairs after his cleanup, the front door opened, and Mr. Belden walked in. The family gathered around him, and he bestowed kisses on Mrs. Belden, Trixie, and Bobby and hugs on Brian, Mart, and Honey.
“It’s good to be home,” he said. “Especially since my nose tells me I’m just in time for one of my wife’s most famous delicacies.”
“That’s right,” Trixie said. “It’s all ready for the table, too. Sit down, everybody. I’ll bring out the food.”
When they were all settled at the table and had begun to eat, Bobby looked accusingly at Trixie. “Honey got my face all cleaned up, Trixie,” he said. “And she didn’t hurt it at all. She didn’t make me promise to eat one whole cooked carrot, either.”
“Yipes!” Trixie exclaimed. “Cooked carrots! Dad, what do you know about deutsche marks?”
Even though Mr. Belden was used to his daughter’s rapid changes of subject, he couldn’t help but look confused. “Deutsche marks are German money, Trixie. West German, I should say. They are a very stable type of currency right now, which means that they can be traded for more than their face value in our money. I don’t know what they have to do with cooked carrots, however.”
Trixie began at the beginning, telling her father about finding the fifty-deutsche-mark note on Old Telegraph Road and giving it to Bobby as a reward for eating “one whole cooked carrot.”
“Brian said he’d seen an article about deutsche marks in one of your magazines, Daddy,” Trixie said. “Do you remember what it said?”
Mr. Belden had listened intently to Trixie’s explanation, and now he replied, “Indeed I do remember, Trixie. I’d like to see that bank note, if I may.”
“I’ll show it to you, Daddy. It’s in my collection.” Bobby jumped up from the table and ran to his room.
Mr. Belden lowered his voice so that Bobby couldn’t overhear. “The article was about counterfeiting, Trixie. Because West German money is so valuable right now, it’s become very popular with counterfeiters. They forge large bank notes, like the fifty-deutsche-mark, mix it with some real notes of lesser value, then redeem them at banks for United States currency. Because the banks exchange so much currency every day from people returning from Europe, they seldom think to examine the money. The article was written to inform bankers of the problem and to let us know how we can spot the phony bank notes.”
“Here it is, Daddy,” Bobby said, returning to the table. “Isn’t it beautiful? It’s my most favoritest part of my collection.”
Mr. Belden took the note from Bobby and examined it carefully for a moment: “It certainly is pretty, Bobby.” He passed the note to Trixie. “Look at it closely. Do you see the gray stripe that runs down the left side of the bill? On the real thing, that’s made of platinum. It’s put right into the paper to make it difficult to duplicate. On this bill, the line is simply printed onto the bill with gray ink. But since this kind of paper can be printed on only one side at a time, it’s hard to get the lines to hit exactly the same place on both sides. If you hold the bill up to the light, you can see that the lines aren’t in quite the same spot.”
By this time, Brian, Mart, and Honey were all clustered around Trixie, looking over her shoulder at the bill. When Trixie held it up to the light, they all saw the shadow of the second line showing through from the other side.
“Gleeps!” Trixie exclaimed. “Then that means that this bill is phony!”
“That’s right,” Peter Belden agreed. “I think that also explains why it’s charred. The counterfeiters realized that this bill couldn’t be passed off as the real thing, so they tried to burn it— probably along with a whole batch of poorly printed bills. This one somehow didn’t bum completely.”
“Let’s call the police!” Trixie said, jumping up from her chair so abruptly that she almost collided with Mart, who was still standing behind her.
“The police will certainly have to be notified,” Mrs. Belden said. “Brian can drive you to the police station tomorrow morning before school. Right now, we have dishes and homework to worry about, in that order.”
“Oh, Moms,” Trixie moaned. She didn’t continue her protest, however, because her mother was wearing the “no nonsense” look that meant further discussion would not be permitted. Okay, I’ll wait until tomorrow, she thought, but don’t blame me if I simply explode from excitement before then! Back in Trixie’s room after dishes and homework were finished, Honey tried to distract Trixie by talking about the bikeathon. “I think it’s going to be a big success, don’t you, Trixie?”
“Oh, I’m sure it is, Honey,” Trixie replied. “I had thought we might have to set up the sign-up booth several times to get enough people, but everyone was so enthusiastic about it today. I think the kids at Sleepyside are just terrific, don’t you?”
To Trixie’s surprise, her friend suddenly burst into tears. “Not all the kids are terrific, Trixie. Some of them are just horrid, and you know who I mean. When Ben and his friends started saying those awful things, I just wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.
“I’m really frightened, Trixie. I’ve tried to deny it, but Ben has changed a lot. He used to be just a
practical joker, but now— Now he seems so hard and cruel. I know he’s going to wind up in some kind of terrible trouble.
“It’s all my fault, Trixie. I try to be nice to him and spend time with him, but I know he can tell that I don’t approve of him, and that just makes him worse.” Honey’s voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
“It isn’t your fault, Honey,” Trixie assured her. “If anyone could turn Ben Riker around, it’s you, with all your sympathy and tact. Some people just don’t want any help. Nick Roberts is like that, too.”
For the first time, Trixie confided to Honey all the details of Nick’s strange behavior, from refusing to do the posters to tearing one off the wall at school. She also told Honey what she’d learned from Mr. Crider about Nick’s unhappy background. “I’m trying to be patient with him because of that, just as you’re trying to be patient with Ben. Still, I can’t help but feel that all the sympathy I have for Nick, which is what got me involved in the whole bikeathon idea in the first place, is being wasted on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.” Hearing Trixie’s troubles had made Honey forget her own, and now it was she who tried to reassure her friend. “You shouldn’t feel that it’s all a waste, Trixie. The bikeathon is for everyone in the art department, not just Nick Roberts. Think about how grateful Amy Morrisey will feel if we raise enough money for another pottery wheel, so that she can get the practice she needs to become a really good potter.”
“I know you’re right, Honey,” Trixie admitted. “It’s just so hard not to feel depressed about it. Here I am, supposedly an expert at solving mysteries. Right now I’m surrounded by people acting in mysterious ways, and I can’t begin to figure any of them out.”
“Who’s acting mysteriously besides Nick and Ben?” Honey asked.
“Well, there’s Mart, for one. You know how quarrelsome he usually is. But the other night, when I was so upset about our fight, he was nice as can be. He hasn’t even teased me about it since you and I made up. That isn’t like him at all.
“For that matter, what about me? Don’t you think it’s pretty mysterious for me to go off and leave the clubhouse window open and all the art supplies out, and then not even to be able to remember doing it?”
Honey gave Trixie a hug as she replied. “Those things aren’t very mysterious. Mart’s devoted to you, although he tries not to show it. It’s perfectly natural that he’d be sympathetic when he knew you were really hurt. And we already figured out that you left the mess in the clubhouse because you were so upset about our fight.”
“Oh, I was, Honey,” Trixie said. “Even if I never figure out Nick Roberts and Ben Riker, I won’t be half as upset as I was when I didn’t know if you and I would ever be friends again. Let’s never, ever have another fight!”
Honey giggled. “After all your talk about how hard people are to figure out, you should know that it’s hard to guarantee that we’ll never, ever fight again. I will promise that I’ll at least try not to get angry. Although,” she added, “if I don’t get some sleep, I’ll be as grouchy as a bear tomorrow morning. There’s only one way to prevent that. Good night, Trixie.”
“Good night, Honey,” Trixie said, switching off the light.
As she drifted off to sleep, Trixie thought again about the counterfeit deutsche mark and the visit she would make to the police station the next morning. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was on the brink of another mystery—one that might be easier to solve than the mysterious behavior of Nick Roberts and Ben Riker.
Suspicions Coincidences • 10
IN SCHOOL the next morning, Trixie thought back to her disappointing interview with Sergeant Molinson.
The sergeant had confirmed her father’s opinion that the bill was a counterfeit. He had thanked her for bringing it in and complimented her on her “eagle eye” for having seen the bill against the hedge.
But when Trixie had asked him eagerly if that meant the forgers were operating out of Sleepyside, Sergeant Molinson had responded with a stem warning against getting involved.
“Forgery is a federal offense, Trixie,” he’d said.
“That means that the people involved may be desperate—far too dangerous for an amateur detective to get involved with, no matter how much success she’s had in the past.
“Besides, finding the bill on Old Telegraph Road isn’t much of a lead as to where it came from. The spring winds in this part of the country could blow a piece of paper like that for miles. Or it could have blown off a truck that the forgers were using to take a whole batch of money somewhere to dispose of it.
“At any rate, I’ll see that the proper officials are notified, and that they know who turned in the bill. You’ll probably get a nice letter of thanks when the case is solved, and I want that to be the end of your part in this.”
Then he gave me that stern look of his, Trixie remembered. I guess that’s that. Someone else will have to track down the forgers, while I worry about the bikeathon and my math homework.
At the end of the day, Di, Honey, and Trixie left the school building together. As they walked, Trixie filled Di in on the discovery of the counterfeit deutsche mark and her meeting with Sergeant Molinson.
“He’s right, you know, Trixie,” Di said. “Those people could spend a long time in jail if they get caught. I wouldn’t want to be the one who catches them. Although,” she added, “right now I think I’d rather face a gang of counterfeiters than visit my dentist, which is what I have to do. The toothache that kept me home from school on Monday still isn’t much better, so my mother made an appointment for me.”
“Then that’s why you weren’t on the bus this morning,” Honey guessed. “You got a ride into town.”
“Not exactly,” Di said. “Actually, I rode my bike. It was such a nice morning, and I felt it was only right that I, as one of the leaders of the bikeathon, should be practicing what I’m preaching.”
“We should all do that,” Trixie said. “Only I never make it to the bus stop in the morning with more than a few seconds to spare. I couldn’t possibly get ready early enough to ride my bike.”
“Speaking of the school bus,” Honey said, “here it comes. We’ll have to run to catch it. Good luck at the dentist’s, Di!”
When they’d settled into their seats on the bus, Honey and Trixie resumed their constant topic of conversation: the bikeathon.
“It’s a week from the day after tomorrow, Honey,” Trixie said. “That’s not much time.” Honey giggled at her friend’s unusual way of expressing the date. “Just think, on Monday it’ll be a week from the day before yesterday! But you’re right. That isn’t much time. I think you and I should go to the clubhouse tonight after dinner and make sure we have enough direction arrows. There are quite a few, but we should count them and then review the route in our minds to see how many we’ll need.”
“Good idea, Honey. We have to make sure that nobody gets lost. Think how upset the riders would be if they missed out on Mr. Maypenny’s hunter’s stew. Gleeps! Here’s your stop already! I’ll see you at the clubhouse tonight.”
At dinner, Trixie told her parents what had happened at the police station that morning.
“You should have witnessed the crestfallen countenance with which Trixie received our constabulary’s warnings that she’s to keep her snub nose out of the investigatory scene,” Mart chortled. “Please pass the candied sweet potatoes.”
“I hope you’ll listen to the sergeant’s warning this time, Trixie,” Mr. Belden said. “He’s not trying to spoil your fun, you know. He’s genuinely concerned that you’ll get hurt someday in the course of your detective work.”
“Oh, I know that,” Trixie told her father. “It’s just that he never even tries to let me know what’s going on. I’ll have to read about the solution to the counterfeiting case in the Sleepyside Sun along with everyone else.”
“I’m sure he’d be willing to tell you more,” Brian said, “if we all hadn’t given him reason to think we’d ta
ke the information and use it to get ourselves involved up to our eyebrows in another mystery. Anyway, I’m more than content to let the police handle this one. It sounds pretty dangerous to me.”
“I’d be ’tent if I got my s’prise back, Trixie,” Bobby said unhappily. “Is Sergeant Molinson gonna keep my s’prise forever?”
“I’m afraid so, Bobby. It was very nice of you to let me take your surprise in to the police, though. He told me especially to say thank you.”
“Did he really, Trixie?” Bobby said, his eyes shining. “That means I holped solve a mystery, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, no,” Mart groaned. “It would appear that the Beldens have another would-be sleuth in their midst. What’s to become of us!”
Everyone laughed at Mart’s mock despair, and the rest of the dinner conversation turned to other topics, such as what would be planted in the Belden garden that spring.
At the clubhouse that evening, Trixie was happily surprised when she saw how many arrows had already been completed.
“You must have worked like a trooper the other night, Honey. There are more than twenty arrows here! We shouldn’t need any more than that.”
“Why, Trixie, most of those posters are the ones you did. Even after I threw away the one the paint spilled on, there was still a whole stack of them left. I didn’t count exactly, but I’m sure it was more than half of the total.”
Trixie shook her head. “I was really in a daze that day, I guess. I’d have sworn that I didn’t finish more than five or six posters. I don’t remember doing that many, anyway, any more than I remember leaving the window open or the top off the paint jar.”
Trixie and Honey were still pondering the surplus of posters when the clubhouse door opened and Di Lynch walked in.
“Well, hi,” Trixie said. “You’re just in time. We—” Trixie stopped short as she noticed Di’s worried expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I tried to call both of you, but Jim and Mart, who answered your phones, said you’d come down here to work. I had the most awful thing happen this afternoon.”
The Mystery off Old Telegraph Road Page 7
