“No need,” the sergeant called back. “Hallie went after them.”
“Did someone take her?”
As he drove away, the sergeant shouted, “I understand that she rode a bicycle.”
Hallie!
Riding to the Glen Road Inn while Miss Ryks was still in residence was like running headlong into a hornet’s nest. Oh! That was just like a—a Belden! Hallie certainly knew better than to go alone after having promised Brian and Mart to honor the buddy system. But knowing better would not keep her safe.
Suddenly Trixie realized that Hallie’s safety was just as important to her as Bobby’s. Hallie was family.
What can I do? Trixie worried. What can I do?
A Wedding and a Wheelchair • 14
DI AND HONEY rushed down the hall and swept Trixie along with them up the stairs and into the sewing room, where they were to dress.
As she'd been doing all day, Trixie hurried to the window as soon as she could. Down on the lawn, she could see Brian, Mart, Bobby, and Jim with Hans. They were standing straight to protect the perfect creases in their formal outfits. She saw them wave to her father, who was to take Dan’s place. Matt Wheeler s red hair shone when he crossed a patch of sunlight to join the group. Their work done for the day, Regan, Mr. Maypenny, and Tom walked up from the stable, wearing their best clothes. The men in Trixie’s life were safe. That is, all but Dan....
Trixie tried to push worry aside and enjoy the moment, as Miss Trask had advised. Just the same, the minute she was dressed, she went back to the window.
Honey joined her there and said, “They are beautiful, aren’t they?” Then she hugged Trixie and added, “So are we I”
Trixie had to agree. Her friends seemed to float in their tissue-thin cotton dresses, their sashes and hat streamers providing the color that was perfect for each girl. Di was used to being told she was pretty, and so was Honey, but even they looked at each other with extra appreciation.
“Guests are beginning to arrive. Let’s all go see Juliana one more time,” Honey decided.
In a happy rush of fluttering ribbons, Trixie, Di, and Honey ran to Juliana’s room. Mrs. Vanderpoel had come early to help the bride dress. Mrs. Wheeler and Mrs. Lynch were there to provide a borrowed lace handkerchief and a blue satin garter.
With a lump in her throat, Trixie stopped in the doorway. Out of an earlier time when life was simpler came this happy bride. Healthy skin glowed through strips of handmade lace in throatband and sleeves. The skirt was pulled into long soft pleats by bands of heavy lace, made while a girl waited for a war to end. A wisp of gauzelike veiling seemed to float over the daisy-wreathed white hat. Tiny, dainty, and demure, Juliana Maasden had never looked lovelier.
Mrs. Vanderpoel clasped one of Juliana’s hands. “If I had a daughter, I’d want her to look just like you, Juliana.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Vanderpoel,” Juliana whispered. “Thank you all for our beautiful, beautiful wedding.”
Miss Trask hurried into the room. “Where’s Hallie Belden?” she cried. “It’s almost time for the march to start. I’ve been presenting the guest book, but I can’t do everything!”
A-Ask Moms to take charge,” Trixie stammered.
Tom had come upstairs to help Ella Kline, and Trixie followed them down the stairs. He carried Ella in his arms as she held her crutches. When they reached the terrace, Tom gently put her down, and Mart carefully accompanied her to a chair with arms. He stood the crutches upright against the side of the chair. Once more, Trixie was stabbed with resentment against someone who would take advantage of a helpless person.
For over an hour, the organist had provided a concert of familiar love songs. Near the organ, Celia had charge of the children in the wedding procession. Di’s small sisters fidgeted with the daisy wreaths in their long hair, and Bobby guarded his satin ring pillow with his life. Trixie heard him tell the tiny girls, The ring’s tied on this pillow so those robber kids can’t take it. They took Di’s radio, but I won’t let them take the ring.” Each child regarded Bobby with wide-eyed respect, knowing what it felt like to be robbed.
When Trixie took her place in the line forming in the lower hall, Jim stopped beside her. He said in a low voice, “I’ve just checked the gift display. Everything’s okay.” He took a step, then turned back to say, “You look as pretty as Juliana.” Trixie blushed with pleasure.
Together they watched Sergeant Molinson walk beside Miss Ryks’s wheelchair as Brian pushed it all the way to the center of the audience. Miss Ryks looked regal in a dove gray costume with a chin-high collar, long sleeves, and a long, full skirt. She wore her customary dark glasses.
When Trixie exhaled a worried breath, Jim asked, “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Trixie said soberly. “Keep our eyes open and be ready, I guess.”
“I’m with you,” Jim promised, then hurried to the summerhouse to join the pastor and Hans.
Trixie watched Mart seat the family of the president of her father’s bank. Brian escorted Juliana’s friends, the De Jongs, who had cut short their vacation in the Poconos. Now it was time to seat Mrs. Wheeler, who was substituting as mother of the bride.
Suddenly the wedding march began, startling the birds into a burst of song. It was Friday, the sixth of August, at half after four o’clock.
Trixie wasn’t prepared for the adult looks on her brothers’ faces when they led the march down the curving path of flat stones. They were followed by Di and Honey, who hooked fingers before leaving the hall. Juliana had wanted a simple procession, so each
person walked along the path at his or her own pace.
Trixie began to move forward. She kept her eyes on the pastor, who stood behind the altar and held the Wheelers’ own white Bible. Tall and blond, Hans waited in the bower of daisies for Juliana. Beside him stood Jim, with sun slanting on his red hair.
At Trixie’s heels danced the Lynch twins, scattering flower petals. They giggled, but Bobby marched solemnly, much aware of his responsibility.
When she passed the table where her mother presided over the guest book, Trixie’s brain beat a wild tattoo. Where’s Hallie? Where’s Hallie?
Trixie reached the altar and waited for Mr. Wheeler to come down the path with Juliana.
On the walk down the aisle of flowers, Matthew Wheeler paused to break a blossom from a plant. He waved it in front of Juliana’s face, trying to make the rather nervous bride smile. Trixie heard Juliana’s little giggle of surprise. All heads turned toward the bride, and every face beamed with delight.
Trixie smiled, but just for a moment. Her ears had caught the muffled hum of a motor, not in the parking lot where it might indicate a latecomer, but someplace out of sight near the bicycle rack. She found herself standing on tiptoe, straining for a glimpse of something happening on the opposite side of the house. Jim noticed her tension. His face went blank while he, too, listened.
When Mr. Wheeler had performed his duty as “father of the bride,” he sat beside his wife and gave her the fragrant blossom he had picked.
The ceremony was simple and profoundly moving. Trixie was sure she would remember the vows forever. Yet when the pastor said, “May I present Mr. and Mrs. Hans Vorwald,” every word was erased from her mind.
Right before the Bob-Whites’ eyes, Juliana had changed in such important ways. She had come into the valley as Janie, the girl with no memory. Next, she was Juliana Maasden, Jim’s only living relative. Now she was Mrs. Hans Vorwald, whose home was in Amsterdam.
The loud and joyous recessional music started, and Juliana and Hans walked slowly down the path. Holding hands, they smiled at each other and at friends.
Trixie and Jim each took six steps and met at the altar. When she put her gloved hand on Jim’s jacket sleeve, Trixie felt the trembling of his arm. Jim, too, had been deeply moved by the ceremony.
“So beautiful,” Trixie murmured. Jim nodded.
As they faced the guests and began to walk back down the path, J
im asked, “The receiving line will take several minutes, won’t it?”
“Of course,” Trixie said. “All the guests will go through it.”
“I have to check the bags and be sure Tom has the car ready to take Hans and Juliana to the airport. Then there’s something I have to investigate. I'll get Mart and Brian to help me.”
“You heard the sound of a motor?” Trixie didn’t try to be more specific. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d heard when the organ had played its loudest.
Again Jim nodded. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off Miss Ryks. For some reason, she’s demanding all of Sergeant Molinson’s attention.”
“I’ll keep track of her while you’re gone,” Trixie said. Even as they talked, both Trixie and Jim nodded and smiled at guests.
When they reached the lower hall, Trixie ran back outdoors to the small table where her mother sat. “Moms, has anybody seen Hallie? Did she come back from the inn?”
“No,” Mrs. Belden answered soberly. “I can’t imagine what happened to her. Miss Trask called the inn. The clerk said Hallie stopped at the desk for Ella’s key, but she didn’t return it.” When Trixie gasped her dismay, her mother’s voice took on a reassuring tone. “Enjoy the reception, dear. The adults are taking care of this problem now. Matthew sent one of the policemen who was guarding the gifts to find Hallie and bring her back. You know Hallie. She probably took the woods path home and is spending all this time pushing her bicycle uphill the whole way.”
“Moms!” Trixie moaned. “Hallie may be in danger! She keeps promises. She’d be here to take charge of the guest book if she could. Oh! First Dan, and now Hallie!”
“What can happen?” Mrs. Belden asked. “Miss Ryks is sitting right there with Sergeant Molinson. There are also police at the inn investigating the robbery.”
“There’s that gang!” Trixie said shakily.
“Without their boss, what can they do?” asked her mother reasonably. “If, indeed, Miss Ryks is their boss. Look at her. Doesn’t it seem improbable?”
Trixie’s heart sank. Even her mother doubted her theory. She protested, “But I saw—”
“Hurry!” said Mrs. Belden. “The receiving line is forming.”
Trixie stood between Juliana and Honey in the line. Worried though she was, her breath caught each time she heard Hans say, “This is my wife, Juliana.” Once he said indulgently, “This is like greeting guests on an ordinary Sunday afternoon.”
Juliana giggled. “Not in Amsterdam, I promise you. I won’t know two hundred people for years!”
Honey whispered, “Something’s bothering you, Trixie Belden. I can tell.”
“Oh, Honey!” Trixie whispered back. “If only you knew!” She stood on tiptoe, trying to see what her brothers were doing. Had they gone with Jim? No. They were circulating among the guests, performing their duties as ushers. And Miss Ryks? Where was she? Oh. There she was. The sergeant was pushing the old fraud’s chair.
When Miss Ryks came through the receiving line, Hans raised her hand to brush it with his lips, and Juliana kissed her forehead. As soon as the elderly woman was beyond earshot, Juliana said, “Hans, we never did find out whose family she knew!”
In the folds of her white dress, Trixie crossed her fingers. I hope, she prayed desperately, I can keep her from spoiling the wedding. When Trixie saw a flash of pink, her hopes rose for a moment, but it wasn’t Hallie’s ribbon sash. Mrs. Dejong was wearing pink accessories.
After all the photographs had been taken, at least thirty young people followed Juliana into the lower hall. Lightly she ran up the stairs and paused, holding her bouquet high. Hans stood by the newel-post, watching her. Juliana buried her face in her bouquet for a last fragrant sniff, blew a kiss to Hans, then threw her flowers. Many hands reached for it, but it was Di who captured the bridal bouquet.
“Next to be married!” someone sang out, and Di giggled.
Trixie stayed with Honey and Di long enough to touch and smell the flowers, then hurried back to the lawn to keep her promise to Jim.
She saw him beckon Mart and Brian, and the three of them disappeared through the swinging doors that led to the part of the house where the wedding gifts were displayed.
With the ring safely on Juliana’s finger, Bobby was relieved of his responsibility. He left the flower girls and followed Trixie to Miss Ryks’s chair. There he stood slightly to the right and scowled at the person in the chair.
Trixie made the usual “Wasn’t it lovely?” comment to Miss Ryks and the sergeant and turned to Bobby.
He was openly staring, and one never knew what he might say. Trixie reminded Miss Ryks that she had met Bobby at the shower. Miss Ryks didn’t bother to wheeze an answer but only nodded regally.
Suddenly Bobby said, “She looks like somebody I know.”
Miss Ryks’s whole body stiffened, and Trixie wished she could see through those dark glasses. The elderly woman laid a big hand on the sergeant’s sleeve. Looking at an ancient watch on a chain, she said breathily, “Thank you, Sergeant Molinson, for your help. My nephew’s sending a taxi to pick me up. If you’ll please go to the parking lot and tell the driver where to find me, I’ll meet him at the porte cochère.”
Quickly, Trixie estimated distances. The porte cochère was out of sight of the wedding guests. A trip to the parking lot would put the sergeant beyond contact for a few minutes. Whatever this—this person was planning must be going according to some previously arranged schedule.
“You must stay for the refreshments,” Trixie said hastily. “You’ll want to see Juliana cut the cake.”
Miss Ryks ignored Trixie. “If you please, Sergeant?” Obediently the sergeant left his folding chair and strode off down a path that would lead him to the parking lot. Trixie felt a moment of panic, knowing he would never have gone had he not believed Miss Ryks to be a helpless cripple. I have to hand it to you, Trixie thought. You’re a pretty good actor to be able to fool the sergeant. Aloud she said, “Miss Ryks, you really must have a cup of punch before you go.”
Miss Ryks fanned her thickly made-up face. “It is hot,” she agreed. “Please push me.”
Even with Bobby’s help, pushing Miss Ryks was no easy task. When they reached the terrace, where the picnic table had been transformed into a bridal table, both Trixie and Bobby heaved sighs of relief, and Trixie paused to straighten her hat and gloves.
Hans and Juliana took their places behind the towering wedding cake, and the guests singed forward to watch the silver knife cut the first slice. Juliana stood on tiptoe to feed Hans his first bite of food as a married man. Cameras flashed, people laughed, and hands pattered happy applause.
Miss Ryks gripped the arms of the wheelchair as if to rise, then settled back as stiff as a broom handle. She said coldly, “My dear Trixie, I simply must reach the porte cochère to meet that taxi.”
“Just a minute, Miss Ryks. The newlyweds will have their punch, and then I can bring you a cup.”
Miss Ryks opened the large purse that lay in her lap. Standing at her shoulder, Trixie was just tall enough to look down into it. Sunlight glinted on a shining mass that Miss Ryks quickly covered with a handkerchief. As the handkerchief was moved, Trixie could see an open moneybag. That bag held something, just as Bobby had said, but that something wasn’t a frog dying for want of air—it was a small gun.
Trixie’s pulse pounded in her throat. What had Jim said about guns like this? “Trigger can be set to go off if you blow on it.” So don’t blow! she warned herself sternly.
“Bobby?” Trixie tried to keep her voice from trembling. “Will you please go find Jim? I think he went to speak to someone at the gift table.”
There was no mistaking Miss Ryks’s reaction to Trixie’s words. She kept her purse open with her hand close to the gun in the moneybag. When Bobby was out of immediate danger, Trixie began pushing the wheelchair very slowly toward the table where the punch bowl sat in a bank of daisies. Instead of avoiding people, Trixie crowded the bulky chair into groups. She
spoke to friends and neighbors, introducing Miss Ryks and calling attention to her presence. Miss Ryks could only sit stiffly, nod, wheeze, and mutter, “Trixie Belden! I told you that I’m ready to leave. At once!”
Trixie cooed politely while keeping her eye on the door. Would Jim never come back?
At long last Jim came running out. Mart and Brian were right behind him.
“Trixie!” Jim burst out. Trixie put her fingers to her lips and pointed at Miss Ryks’s back. Jim forced himself to whisper. “The wedding gifts are gone, and so are the guards!”
Trixie wasn’t surprised. She’d known something would happen. “One guard went to find Hallie,” she whispered back. “I think Miss Ryks is trying to get away to meet the gang. What shall we do?”
“Stop her!” Jim hissed.
Trixie knew that Miss Ryks must have heard something of the whispered conversation because she started to turn around. Hastily Trixie said, “Sit still, Miss Ryks. Jim will help me take you to the porte cochère.”
Jim took the hint and helped push the chair out of sight of the wedding festivity. Mart and Brian walked behind the chair, obeying Trixie’s beckoning hands.
Sergeant Molinson was in the taxi that entered the porte cochère. He left the cab to help Miss Ryks to her feet.
Jim acted instantly. He slammed against the side of the wheelchair with all his healthy young weight. Already half standing, Miss Ryks was thrown off-balance. Out went her hands, the one for balance, the other to rescue her dark glasses. Trixie snatched the big purse, moneybag and all, and handed it to Mart. “Run!” she ordered, and Mart ran.
Cornered, Miss Ryks discarded her role as cripple and jumped up to plunge after Mart. Trixie and Jim acted as with one mind. Just as Miss Ryks leaped forward, both planted their feet on the long gray skirt.
Rrrrr-rip!
A man s rolled-up trousers were suddenly exposed above large white oxfords. Miss Ryks threw a punch at Jim, but he ducked. Brian closed in from the rear, and together the two boys struggled with the angry guest.
The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost Page 14
