“I’ll bring you Belden kids home,” Jim promised. “Okay, Moms?” Mart asked.
The Bob-Whites made a collective dash for the kitchen while Mrs. Belden called out, “Who waited to see if I said no?”
“Oh, Moms!” Trixie retorted over her shoulder. “You never do.”
Hallie remained on the porch when the Bob-Whites, Hans, and Juliana crowded into the station wagon. “Get a move on, Hallie,” Mart called.
Hallie made a helpless motion at her bare legs and feet. “Unless I put on my suit, I have nothing to wear. I can’t go visiting dressed like this.”
“You look fine to me,” Jim told her.
Ordinarily, Trixie would share anything she owned with a friend, but she wasn’t feeling exactly friendly toward Hallie. It took real effort for her to say to the others, “Wait for us. I’ll find an outfit for Hallie.” Even in the dark, Honey sensed her effort. She hugged Trixie and said, “Don’t bother. Come on, Hallie. I’ll find something for you in my closet. You’re not much taller than I am.”
As Hallie squeezed herself into the car, Mart teased, “Good thing you didn’t take Trixie up on her magnanimous offer. You’d have had to borrow a belt from someone else.” He groaned loudly when Trixie jabbed him with her finger. She was sensitive about weighing more than either Honey or Di, and Mart knew it. He reserved the right to remind her of this fact when he felt like getting even—and he hadn’t forgotten the kick on his ankle, after all.
On Glen Road Jim caught sight of the Lynch Cadillac in his rearview mirror. He honked the horn and pulled to the side of the road to wait for Diana. No lengthy explanations were necessary as Di switched from roomy Cadillac to crowded station wagon. From the front seat, she twisted around to ask Honey, “May I borrow something comfortable to wear? I can’t spend tonight and tomorrow, too, in these dressy clothes.”
“You look super,” Mart said. “Where did you eat?”
“The country club.”
Mart crowed, “We, too, have indulged our taste buds.”
“I know, with raspberry pie,” Di said with a mock groan. “Remember me? I helped pick those berries.” She affected a lofty air. “We had live entertainment. There was a stand-up comic.”
“At the country club?” Jim asked in surprise.
“Some down-and-out actor was singing for his supper,” Di explained. “He was really funny. He made everybody take part in an icebreaker. The host at each table introduced his group, then this character rushed around shouting introductions of all of us to people we’d known all our lives. And do you know what? He didn’t miss a single name in that big dining room. He even remembered our addresses. And that was after he’d gone out for some reason, so some time had passed. I call that good!”
“See?” Mart grumbled. “Some people get paid for showing off memory skills! Other people languish for want of appreciation, not that I mention names.”
“I thought that person languished for berry pie,” Brian said dryly. “Di, we have a guest. Hallie Belden, Diana Lynch.”
“Belden?” Di repeated. “Oh! Your cousin. Hi!” There, Trixie thought. One more Bob-White to go and Hallie will have met all of us.
Jim drove past the gatehouse that now served as the Bob-White clubhouse. At the same time, the remaining unmet Bob-White, Dan Mangan, emerged from the woods path.
The station wagon came to a halt under a yard lamp. Trixie could hear Dan whistling off-key. He didn’t sound happy. For several days, he had been unusually quiet. Trixie had tried to cheer him up, but Brian had told her to mind her own business. She had flared, “Dan’s business is my business. He’s a Bob-White, isn’t he?” Quite pointedly, Brian had reminded her that each person is entitled to handle his own private affairs. Even though Dan now worked on the Wheeler estate, he was originally from the streets of New York City. Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson was situated close enough to the city that confrontations with his past were probably unavoidable. Brian would say nothing more.
As she led Hallie forward to meet Dan, Trixie studied his face for possible change. There was none. Dan still looked unhappy.
“Hi, Dan,” Hallie said casually. She had two brothers and her tone said, “Big deal. Another boy.”
But Dan’s whole manner brightened. He fell into step with Hallie as if they’d walked together often.
As she had promised, Honey took the girls up to her room once they reached Manor House. There both Di and Hallie changed into comfortable jeans and blouses. “Am I presentable now?” Hallie asked.
“You’re so pretty, Hallie, you’d look good in a gunnysack,” answered Di. She locked arms with Hallie and guided her into the hall.
Trixie followed with Honey and Juliana. She watched the two dark-haired girls go down the wide stairs. It was an accepted fact that Di was the prettiest girl in the club. But now? Trixie was not so sure that even an Irish pixie with black hair and violet-colored eyes could compete with a girl who looked and walked like an Indian princess. If someone like Di took a backseat, what chance did Trixie have?
Miss Trask, housekeeper for the Wheelers and friend to the Bob-Whites, was playing cards with Honey’s parents and Mr. Lytell, who owned the grocery store on Glen Road. She welcomed Hallie warmly and drew her forward to meet the Wheelers and Mr. Lytell. Then the young people moved on into an alcove of the large room.
Trixie had been in charge of planning several large events, such as an antique show and an ice carnival. But a wedding? She was not sure exactly how much help Juliana needed or wanted. She listened to the Dutch girl’s bubbling recital of plans already made. Trixie was to be maid of honor; Honey and Diana, bridesmaids; Brian, Mart, and Dan, ushers; and Bobby, ring bearer. “Di’s twin sisters will be adorable flower girls,” Juliana decided. “Jim—”
“Won’t you escort the bride down the aisle, Jim?” Brian asked. “You’re Juliana’s only relative.”
For a moment, Jim looked startled—this was growing up too fast! Then he reached across the space to his cousin’s chair. He held both Juliana’s tiny hands and said, “My dad has that honor. Since he adopted me, he’s like an uncle to Juliana. I’m to be Hans’s best man.”
Hans smoothed very blond hair at one temple. Ruefully he said, “This wedding is beginning to sound complicated. We were to have had a simple civil ceremony in Amsterdam—no formality.”
“That’s still the way I want it,” Juliana said. “I know Miss Trask has sent out a lot of invitations, but we can just put on our prettiest summer clothes and all meet here at Jim’s house on the sixth of August. When our friends arrive, we’ll simply take our places for the wedding ceremony. It will be no more trouble than receiving callers on a Sunday afternoon and will serve as a lovely good-bye party before we go home.”
“If that pleases you, Juliana, then I am happy,” Hans agreed.
Juliana turned eagerly to Hallie. “The Beldens were so kind to me during my illness that they became my second family. I can’t leave out a Belden. Will you carry my guest book, Hallie?”
To Trixie’s surprise, Hallie turned to her to ask, “Okay with you, Trix?”
“Wh-Why, sure,” Trixie stammered. What else could she say? Jim had already shown how he felt about his cousin. That she might feel any less loving toward one of her own was something he simply wouldn’t understand. It was a sobering thought.
After a short silence, Mart made an amusing story out of the suitcase mix-up. “Trixie tried to turn it into a full-fledged mystery, but that fell through. Now all we have left is that darned wheelchair Bobby says he saw.”
Jim raised his head alertly and swung around to face Hans. “Say! That could have been a wheelchair we saw.”
Hans was cautious. “I received only an impression. We were on a curve, meeting a car.”
Trixie felt the familiar chill that was always her response to mystery. She hugged herself, but goose bumps remained.
Mart noticed. “Oh, nol” he groaned. “Here we go again. Hans, Juliana, you’ll just have to postpone those weddi
ng plans till Trixie and Honey solve the mystery of the empty wheelchair!”
“Count me in, too,” Hallie Belden drawled.
At that moment, Celia, the maid who was Miss Trask’s right hand and also a friend of the Bob-Whites, crossed the large living room. She paused in the arch of the alcove and announced, “There’s a telephone call for you, Diana. Your father.”
“Dad?” Di was genuinely puzzled. As she followed Celia, she warned, “Don’t talk till I get back. I don’t want to miss a word.”
The rugs were deep and soft, and no one heard Di return. It was Brian who looked up to find her standing in the archway. His instinctive concern for the mental and bodily welfare of people made him rise from his chair. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?” Di’s hands lifted, then dropped. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “I just don’t believe it.”
Both Honey and Trixie went to her side.
“We’ve been robbed,” Di said bleakly.
“Oh, that’s a relief,” Trixie blurted. “I thought someone was dead!”
“I—I’m sorry,” Di said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just don’t believe it. There’s nothing in our family room. Can you imagine it? Nothing!”
“You’re kidding,” Mart said flatly.
“I want to go home,” Di said.
“I’ll take you,” Jim offered. “We’ll all go.”
For the moment, Trixie didn’t think about a mystery to be solved. She only wanted to see Di smiling again.
The four-story Lynch mansion on the hill was lighted like a Christmas tree. Jim stopped in the turnaround at the entrance used by family and friends. It was on the side of the house directly opposite the formal entry. Here, a large foyer with a great stone fireplace was an extension of the family room. Jim, Honey, Brian, Mart, Hallie, Dan, Di, and Trixie marched in single file through the door, across the foyer, and into the family room, as orderly as a column of ants. Although the thick carpeting muffled their footsteps, they all tiptoed.
“There’s—nothing here!” Mart exclaimed.
“That’s what I told you,” Di reminded him.
“If they could have carried the fireplace away, they would have,” Dan said. After a quick, nervous inspection of the room, he returned to the foyer. He stared into the cavernous mouth of the fireplace, unused since spring, and suddenly stooped to pick up a small wad of paper. Several times he tossed the paper into the air and caught it. The action made Trixie uneasy. That dark, unhappy look was on Dan’s face again.
The next time Dan tossed the wad of paper, Trixie caught it and rolled it between her fingers. It didn’t feel like the gum wrapper she had thought it to be.
Because she wasn’t used to an empty room in this luxurious home, Trixie was glad to have something to do. She unrolled the paper wad. The paper was of good quality and didn’t tear. When she saw words written on the paper, Trixie flinched as if she’d been caught opening another person’s mail. Then she saw the familiar crest of the Sleepyside Country Club. A bubble of excitement grew in her throat and burst into words. “Look! It’s your address, Di!”
“So? We live here,” Di said.
“But it’s written on country club paper, and it says, ‘Early. Kids.’”
“What’s this about early kids?” a voice asked from the end of the foyer. Di’s father, followed by Sergeant Molinson, the policeman from Sleepyside, joined the young people, who wandered aimlessly about the foyer and family room.
Although her bump of curiosity itched painfully, Trixie knew she couldn’t withhold evidence from the police. She handed the crumpled paper to the sergeant. “Dan found this in the fireplace.”
“I noticed it because it was lodged against the glass fireguard,” Dan explained. “It—well, it was just the only thing in the rooml”
“Except for the drapes and carpet,” Di corrected. Trixie looked at the blank walls. Even the pictures and games were gone from the walls.
The policeman took the paper, tinned it over, then waved it to catch Mr. Lynch’s attention. “What do you make of this, sir? Is this your handwriting?”
Where’s Di’s Invitation? • 4
MR.LYNCH TOOK the crumpled paper from Sergeant Molinson. “No, I didn’t write this, but I recognize the paper. I’m a director at the club. This sheet is from one of the note pads we place at the telephones there. Anybody can use them. That’s what they’re for.”
The sergeant nodded. “I suppose this could be a confirmation of your dinner reservation. You took your whole family to dinner tonight, as I understand it.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Lynch said, “but I can’t see this message as fitting the situation. At the club, my name and reservation time would have been listed with the number of guests to be at my table. Here at home-well, I can’t imagine Harrison unbending enough to use the word ‘kids.’ ”
Harrison was the prim and proper butler who managed the Lynch household. He had been with the family since their sudden rise to wealth. At one time, while they were getting used to their new life-style, Mrs. Lynch had fired both him and the children’s nurses. Coping with the huge house had proved so overwhelming that they had all been rehired. Harrison was now as much of an institution there as Miss Trask was at Manor House. And it was unthinkable that he would either say or write “kids.”
“Sergeant Molinson—” Trixie began.
“Yes, Detective Belden?” The sergeant didn’t try to hide his amusement. “I wondered how long it would take you to get into the act.”
“Could the thief have written that note?” Trixie asked with a rush.
“Dim-witted thief I” Mart snorted. “That letterhead practically gives his address. All the police have to do is interview the staff at the club to find out who was off tonight.”
“Oh.” Trixie was stymied, but only briefly. “Maybe he is a dumb kind of thief, or an inexperienced one.”
“I don’t buy that,” the sergeant said. “This is obviously the work of several people who knew exactly what they were doing. A truck was driven right to the door for loading. The tracks on the turnaround are still visible, and Harrison says he met a truck on the private road that leads down to Glen Road. That would indicate a lookout was on the job. Dumb thieves probably, but not inexperienced.”
“What happened, Dad?” Di asked unhappily.
The story was brief. Because it was the cook’s birthday, Mr. Lynch had arranged for the whole staff to celebrate at Glen Road Inn. He had taken his own family to the country club. Shortly before the family’s arrival home, the servants had returned to find the foyer and family room stripped of furniture.
“Somebody must have tipped off this gang that you’d be home early because you had taken the children,” the sergeant decided.
Mr. Lynch’s jolly laugh rumbled in spite of the circumstances. “If you had two sets of twins, you’d bring them home early, too, Sergeant.”
The sergeant agreed. As he left the house he said, “I’ll keep in touch. You’ll have your insurance man make out a list of the missing articles?”
“Right.” Mr. Lynch closed the heavy foyer door. He asked Di’s friends if they wanted to walk through the house to see if anything else was missing.
Bright-eyed with interest, Trixie led the exploration of the first floor. Everything seemed in its usual formal order. In Di’s home, one didn’t leave jackets on chairs, tennis rackets on tables, or apple cores in ashtrays. Harrison managed a “tight ship,” with each set of twins cared for by its own nurse. Not even the country club had a more efficient staff. Each time she was in this mansion, Trixie realized how much she appreciated the comfortable freedom of her own pleasant and informal home.
Several times Jim looked at his wristwatch. At last he said, “If there’s nothing else we can do to be of help here, Di, I think we’d better go. It’s late.”
“I know,” Di agreed. “Thank you for bringing me home. Honey, I’ll stay with you some other night.” As Jim drove down the winding private road, Trixie looked back
at the fully lighted house. She heard Dan mutter, “Nobody is going to sleep well at that house tonight.” It puzzled Trixie that he sounded so angry.
The next morning, Trixie dressed the minute she awoke and quickly ran down the lane to pick up the morning paper. She found that Mart was at the box ahead of her, with the pages of the Sleepyside Sun opened out like the sails of a boat.
Mart called, “Hi, twin,” then announced, “Those thieves were busy little beavers last night. Besides pulling the Lynch robbery, they entered a house on Bowling Green but were chased out by a dog named Manchu. They took everything of value from a house near Glen Road Inn, and they totally stripped one of those new houses down on the river.” Mart read aloud, “ ‘Police report the common denominator is the fact that the owners of all these properties dined last night at the Sleepyside Country Club, attracted by the performance of the comic, Oliver Tolliver.’ ” Mart chewed his lip. “If I were that Oliver Tolliver, I’d be moving on.”
“What? Oh, I see,” said Trixie. “His name is linked with a police report, and that’s bad publicity.”
“Right,” Mart agreed. “Want to share the paper?”
“Too late. Here comes Dad,” Trixie said. “Do the police know the order of the robberies?”
“They’re guessing. Sergeant Molinson built a timetable based on telephoned information.”
“Got in pretty late last night” was Mr. Beldens greeting.
“Boy, was there a reason!” Mart said. “It’s spread all over the front page of the Sun.”
Together Trixie and Mart began to tell their story and managed to confuse Peter Belden totally. He begged, “Kindly let me read it for myself, please.” When the three reached the kitchen, they found Brian and Hallie telling Mrs. Belden and Bobby about the empty family room at the Lynch mansion.
“You mean, somebody tooked—I mean, taked—”
“How about just plain took, Bobby?” Mrs. Belden corrected.
“-just plain took all those neat games in the playroom?” Bobby asked.
The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost Page 3
