“Now he does. Now he doesn’t,” Mart said. “This morning he almost pinned a medal on Trix.”
“I heard about that rescue, too. Say, Trixie, that was some stunt you pulled up there on the bluff. That girl who lost her memory is staying at your house, isn’t she? Makes a guy believe in miracles to look up at that bluff and think she wasn’t—”
“Murdered!” Trixie said grimly. “That’s what it was, Spider—an attempt at murder. The second one, too. How did you know about Janie—we call her Janie—”
“I saw the poster in the Missing Persons Bureau in White Plains. I didn’t connect it with you Bob-Whites till I stopped at the station today. When I talked to the sergeant, I found out this Janie is staying at Crabapple Farm. There’s no news of who she really is, is there? Has the sergeant any clue to how she came to be on Glen Road? Hit-and-run, was it? What a shame!”
“It’s tragic, Spider,” Honey said. “She’s the loveliest girl.”
“It's awfully sad.” Trixie’s face grew solemn as she thought about Janie’s predicament. “I wish we could help find out who she is.”
“Sometimes they just disappear, girls and boys, grown men and women, too,” Spider said, “and no one ever hears a word about them.”
“Does it happen the other way, too?” Trixie asked. “When nobody ever makes an inquiry about a missing person?”
“Often,” Spider said, “but it’s mostly some no-good bum nobody wants to find, someone like that stepfather of yours, Jim. Nobody cried up a storm when he disappeared, did they? I guess he knows better than to show his face around these parts again.”
“No fear,” Mart said. “When he realized he wasn’t going to get anything out of Mr. Frayne’s estate, that it all went to Jim, he beat it.”
Spider laughed. “It’s a good thing he did, or he’d have landed in the clink, with a good push from me. What are you kids up to? I’ll give one guess. Trixie and Honey are on the trail of that hit-and-run criminal and are now trying to figure out what happened yesterday. Right, Trixie?”
“We are concentrating on trying to find Janie’s identity,” Trixie said. “We didn’t think we could do much about what caused her accident on Glen Road. Then a lot of other things began to happen, Spider. Yesterday was the worst. We’re certain that someone is trying to harm Janie.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
“No, we don’t. We’re completely baffled. Someone is definitely out to get Janie. I don’t think Sergeant Molinson agrees with us yet about this. He’s trying to discover who moved those warning signs yesterday. He thinks the workmen who have been busy there may have done it, that maybe it has nothing to do with Janie. I don’t. I have a hunch.”
“I’d bank on your hunches, Trixie. I’ve had experience with them before.”
“Tell it to the sergeant,” Mart suggested.
“He’s had experience with them, too. You say he’s trying to find out if someone moved the warning signs, and if they did, why. Do you mean the signs along that trail in the woods?”
“Yes. They were in place a little over a week ago when we were riding through the woods, exercising the horses. That’s when we found out about the factory that’s to be built. We climbed down that path to the marsh.... Oh, Spider, I do wish you were on the police force in Sleepyside now. You wouldn’t keep saying, ‘It all takes time/ the way Sergeant Molinson does. You’d move.”
“Do you want me to go with you now and take a look around that cliff? Not that I’d be likely to find a thing, because investigation really does take time, Trixie, as the sergeant said. I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off. We can run out to the woods. Maybe I can stop and see Mrs. Vanderpoel, too.“
“Would you, Spider? That would be super. Has everyone finished eating? Brian, how about settling with Jim for our hamburgers?”
“You forgot I said it was my treat, Trixie—on account of Spider,” Jim said. He paid the bill, and they went out.
“You haven’t seen the new Bob-White bus, have you, Spider? Well, open your eyes and look!” Mart opened the station wagon door with a flourish. “Our name’s on it, and everything.”
Spider looked, struck his forehead, and fell back, as though dazzled.
“Have you been picking up some more rewards, you and Honey?” he asked Trixie. “Boy, oh, boy, is it ever snazzy!”
“Mr. Wheeler gave it to us. They have a new Continental sedan,” Trixie said.
“I might have known it came from him.” Spider whistled. “I wish all kids had the setup the Bob-Whites have—your own clubhouse, and now your own car. Not that you don’t have it all coming to you, always trying to help people. Let’s see how the Bob-White bus rides.”
Jim stopped the car on Glen Road where the trail entered the woods, and they all got out. As they neared the end of the bridle path, they could hear the sound of men working, voices shouting, hammers pounding.
“It’s the men putting up the guard fence my dad ordered, ” Jim said. “It sure didn’t take long to get them going.”
“Money makes the mare go,” Spider said. “That’s what my old daddy used to tell me when he tried to make me save. No kidding, Jim, when your dad wants a thing done, it’s as good as done. I wish we could have come up here before they got under way, though. There isn’t much chance of finding anything significant now; probably never was.”
“It’s a ghastly place over there,” Trixie said, pointing to where the shelf of soil was breaking away. “It didn’t used to be that bad when we went down to the marsh for specimens. At least, I don’t remember it being scary. We’ve climbed down that path often enough.”
“I always thought your stepfather escaped this way, Jim, after your great-uncle’s house was burned. That old river has provided a getaway for many a crook, with all the boats and barges lined up down there. Hey, you!” he called to one of the workmen. “Is this a hole where one of the warning signs was in place?”
“I don’t know. Ask the county engineer. They’re puttin’ up new signs. We're buildin this fence right across the path where you’re standin’. Can’t nobody go beyond there then. We’re gonna paint KEEP OUT! in red paint on the fence when we’re done.”
“It seems to me it needs a sign here, too, at the top of this trail down to the river,” Spider said, pointing to the hole, widened and gaping where a sign had been hastily pulled up.
Absentmindedly he kicked the dirt with his heel, to cover up the hole, and uncovered a tobacco can. He picked it up and tossed it over to the workman. “Here’s your tobacco,” he called. “One of you must have dropped it. Whats the matter, Trixie?”
“Nothing... I guess. Thats horrible smelhng tobacco, isn’t it? Some of it spilled here.”
“It wouldn’t be my choice, but that’s why they make all kinds. Well, kids, it doesn’t look as though there’s anything I can do around here. I’m sorry, Trixie. Even if we’d come to this place earlier, we wouldn’t have found clues on all the bushes. A smart cookie covers his tracks pretty well.”
“We didn’t really expect to find anything incriminating, did we, Trixie?” Honey asked sadly.
Trixie didn’t answer. Her mind seemed miles away.
“How about you kids stopping at Mrs. Vander-poel’s house with me for a while. Do you have time to do that—then run me back into Sleepyside?” Spider asked.
“I suppose we should be exercising the horses for Regan,” Jim said, “but the day’s already pretty well shot.”
“And Mrs. Vanderpoel always has cookies,” Mart said, smacking his lips.
“She’s the best cook in Westchester County,” Spider said, “and that takes in a lot of good Dutch cooks. Many a time I’ve wished Tad and I were back at her house and pulling up to that kitchen table.”
It wasn’t long till Spider’s wish was fulfilled.
When they dropped the knocker at the little, yellow brick house, Mrs. Vanderpoel opened the door, cried out with delight, and put her arms around Spider.
“You’re my
wish come true, Spider!” she said. “Do you know what I have in the oven?”
“Cookies!” Mart said.
“Oh, those! I always have those. No, sir, it’s Spider’s favorite food. Mr. Maypenny brought me three pheasants today, all dressed so nice and pretty. I cut them up, browned them, covered them with sour cream, and popped them in the oven. I was going to freeze them, because they wouldn’t keep till Juliana and I finished eating them. Come right in, all of you. Do you smell them cooking?”
“Mmmm! Mmmmm. I’m back where I belong,” Spider said, drawing in his breath. “Does that ever smell good to me!”
“There’s enough for everyone,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said hospitably. “Stay for dinner, all of you. I was afraid there would be nobody but me. Juliana’s not here for dinner; she’s working on those dolls,” she added, looking at the girls.
“I should be at home helping Moms,” Trixie said. “And I should be at home with you, helping you help your mom,” Honey said. “Oh, Trixie, that divine smell!”
“If I call Moms and she says yes, and if you’ll let us help get dinner, and if you really want us—”
“Trixie means yes, we’d love to stay, and when
do we eat?” Mart said. “I’ll call Moms.” Soon he reported, “She said yes.”
“I’ll call Miss Trask and tell her where I am and not to look for me. If she knows we’re with you, Spider, she’ll want to visit with you, too,” Jim said.
“Later on.Later on. Soon we eat, though,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said. “Set the table, please, girls. Here’s the cloth.”
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven of us,” Trixie counted. “Jeepersl Nobody else in the world could have six extra people walk in on them and provide a banquet.”
“In the old country, yes,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said. “My mother told me that many a time on Sunday, after church, someone would say, ‘Come to dinner,’ and they’d come, and welcome, too. My mother was a good cook. Her mother was, too.”
“They’d have to have been, to have taught you,” Spider said. “I’m telling you the truth. I wake up in the night, and I can'taste chicken and dumplings and apple pie and Gouda cheese—thin slices of it on toast in the morning instead of butter— mmmml I’ll bet when Tad writes to you, Mrs. Vanderpoel, he always mentions food.”
“He does. I do miss both my boys, Spider. Even Old Brom looks around the comers hunting for you whenever he comes into the house. As soon as I whip up these potatoes, we’ll be ready to eat. There’s new late corn from my garden in that pot on the back of the stove. My, but it seems good to have all of you herel”
“I wish Janie could be with us, too. She’s so thin, but she’s never hungry.” Trixie sighed.
“There’ll be plenty of pheasant for you to take home to her, Trixie, and some for Bobby, too, the little darling. There, now, you can fill the mugs with milk, Honey. Spider, you can'take this platter to the table. Put it right in the middle, and you can all help yourselves. See what a big pan of pheasant I have?”
They all ate till they could hardly push back from tibe table. Mrs. Vanderpoel wouldn’t let the girls help with the dishes. “It’ll keep me busy after you’ve all gone,” she said. “The evenings are too long. I’ll just fix up a bit for you to take to Janie and Bobby, and I’ll put the rest away... maybe leave a little in the warming oven for Juliana, if she comes.”
She scurried about the kitchen, and in no time at all the big table was cleared and the dishes scraped and piled for washing later.
A delicious bouquet of odors filled the big old-fashioned kitchen—an aroma that never left it— made up of scrubbed cleanliness, lingering spices, tangy pickles, ripe apples, crumbling aged cheese. Over all, and enhancing all, was the spirit of wholehearted hospitality and love.
Afterward, in the cozy parlor, Mart picked out lively rock music on Mrs. Vanderpoel’s beautiful little melodion. They clapped and hummed and shuffled their feet.
“Dance, if you want to,” Mrs. Vanderpoel urged. “Nothing can harm an Axminster carpet. Nothing has for forty years.”
So Spider swung the rotund little Dutch woman to her feet and whirled her around the room, while the others snapped their fingers or shrugged and twisted to Mart s one-fingered beat.
In the midst of it all, in walked Juliana.
She nodded to the Bob-Whites. Then she saw Spider. His blue suit and brass buttons seemed to paralyze her. “A policeman!” she gasped.
“A friendly one,” Spider said, bowing low.
“It’s Spider. I’ve told you about him,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said. “It’s Juliana, Spider, Jim’s cousin. I’ve kept something warm for you, dear. The Bob-Whites and Spider all stayed for dinner. I wish you had been here. Were you working on your dolls again?”
Juliana hesitated, then nodded her head.
“You make me ashamed, Juliana,” Trixie said. “We haven’t done a thing about booths for the Turf Show. We love the dolls you’re making. They’re darling.”
“Thank you,” Juliana said nervously. “If you will excuse me, I’ll go to my room. I’m glad to have met Mrs. Vanderpoels Spider. I’m glad to have seen the rest of you, too. I hope Janie is feeling better. I’ll say good night now.”
She spoke it as if it were a piece she had learned, Trixie thought. She’s terribly nervous. She had such a queer smile...or... there goes my imagination again!
Aloud she said, “I think we have to say good night, too, Mrs. Vanderpoel.” She hugged the roly-poly woman with both arms. Honey did, too. Even the boys, Mart shamefacedly at first, then wholeheartedly, hugged her.
“It’s no good saying thanks. That word couldn’t cover the wonderful time we’ve had,” Trixie said from the doorway.
“Don’t say it. Come again. That’s the thanks I like best. Good night, now, all of you.”
At Crabapple Farm, where Jim let the Beldens and Honey out of the station wagon, they said good night to Spider.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with your sleuthing, Trixie,” he said, and she knew he really meant it from his heart. Then he added, chuckling, “I just happened to remember—I saw a couple of your good friends in Sleepyside today. Snipe Thompson and his nephew Bull. I guess their time is up in the pen. They probably won’t try to rob another antique show, Trixie, but they’re bad citizens—mighty bad citizens. Good night.”
A Shadow at the Window ● 16
SEE WHAT I brought you, Janie! Moms, where’s Bobby? Has he gone to bed? Mrs. Vanderpoel sent him some pheasant, too. Get a whiff of this, Janie!” Trixie uncovered the bowl, still warm. “Mmmmm... mmmmm, delicious! Bobby went to bed only a minute ago. Please, Mrs. Belden, may he come downstairs?”
“If you’ll promise to eat every bit of your share. You hardly ate a thing for dinner,” she replied.
“Oh, dear!” Trixie said. “We were all wishing so much that you could be at Mrs. Vanderpoel’s house. We ate and ate and ate. She’s almost as good a cook as you are, Moms.”
“Flattery! Flattery! Here comes Bobby. He heard his name.”
“I smelled something good.”
“You couldn’t possibly eat, after the way you crammed yourself at dinner.”
“I can always eat. Mmmm... pheasant! Here, you have some, too, Moms... just a little bite. Daddy?”
“Who do you suppose was at Mrs. Vanderpoel’s house with us this evening? Guess!” Trixie’s eyes shone.
“Spider!” Bobby shouted.
“Who told you?”
“Mart did.” Bobby giggled. “Mart did, when he told Moms you could stay at Mrs. Vanderpoels house for dinner. I wish Spider was still living in that house, Trixie.”
“So does he, Bobby. I don’t think he’s too happy in his job at White Plains, do you, Honey?”
Nobody who’s ever lived in Sleepyside is completely happy anywhere else. I know I’d never be.”
“Mrs. Vanderpoel wishes Spider still lived with her, too. You know, Moms, it’s kind of scary back there in the woods. I keep remembering the time I sta
yed there all night, and Snipe and his nephew tried to rob the place.”
Mrs. Belden smiled. “It seems funny now, but it was frightening at the time. I don’t like to think of it. The funny part was the way Mrs. Vanderpoel was ready for the thieves. Isn’t she wonderful?” Trixie giggled. “She took down her father’s old rifle and aimed it at them and said she’d shoot their heads off if they came an inch closer.”
Mrs. Beldens face became sober. “They could have shot first. The situations you get yourself into, Trixie—you and Honey!”
“They scare me to pieces, too, Mrs. Belden, Honey said. “But Trixie always gets us out of danger, someway.”
“Maybe she does, but I keep thinking the time will come when she won’t. I suppose you and Spider had a big fun time talking over all that’s happened.”
“We did,” Trixie said. “I told him all about the things that are puzzling us and all about Janie.” Mrs. Belden looked at Janie and saw her face sadden. “Did he have any suggestions to make?”
“Not a thing,” Honey said. “He wanted to. He even went with us up to the trail in the woods. He thought he might possibly find some kind of a clue. He didn’t, though. The men were working there on the fence Daddy ordered them to build. All Spider turned up was an old, half-filled tobacco can... ugh!”
Trixie shuddered, too, at the memory of that awful-smelling tobacco... and something else. Where did I smell that very same smell? Someplace before the Bronx. Where was it? It was someplace I hated. I was afraid.... “What did you say, Moms?” Mrs. Belden busied herself clearing up the dishes they had used, rinsing them, setting them aside to be washed in the morning. “I said we’d better all make this an early-to-bed night. Skip along, Bobby. I don’t think anyone in this house slept well last night, after that terrible day we had.”
“We’ll go in a minute, Moms,” Mart said. “I just want Janie to pick out the melody of that song she sang. I don’t mean the King Arthur one—the other one.” Mart hummed. “I was trying to remember it at Mrs. Vanderpoel’s.” He went ahead of Janie into the living room and handed her his guitar. “How did it go, Janie?”
The Mystery of the Missing Heiress Page 13
