Di stared. “Why, Harrison, of course.”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Trixie said airily. “Harrison? Who’s he?”
Suddenly, they were aware that Honey had been watching them both closely. When she saw they’d noticed, she laughed happily.
“You know what?” she shouted. “It’s a beautiful day. I feel so happy I could fly like a bird. Watch!”
She spread her arms and flapped them up and down. Slowly, Di raised her arms, too.
Trixie hesitated, then flung her own arms wide. And laughing together, at last, the three friends “flew” to their bicycles.
What a wonderful morning it was! The three girls visited almost every store in Sleepyside, though they bought very little. It was enough that they were together again. Trixie had never felt happier—but it didn’t last.
They were busy eating juicy hamburgers at Wimpy’s when the trouble began all over again.
Trixie glanced out of the window at the street beyond. She saw Saturday shoppers and tradespeople hurrying about their work. She saw a bicycle propped outside the doughnut shop.
She leaned closer to the window to get a better look. “Say,” she said idly, “isn’t that—” she paused—“someone-whose-name-I’ve-forgotten’s bicycle?”
Di popped another crisp french fry into her mouth. “Couldn’t be,” she answered. “He doesn’t have a bike. I asked him about it only yesterday.”
Trixie looked again. The yellow bicycle certainly looked like the same one that she’d seen Di’s butler riding.
At that moment, a man came out of the shop with a small paper bag. He wore neither his uniform nor his gun, but Trixie recognized the man immediately. It was Charlie, Harrison’s accomplice.
Trixie saw him glance quickly up and down the street. Then he climbed onto the yellow bicycle and rode swiftly away.
All at once, Trixie was certain that it was the same bicycle that had been parked for so long on Mrs. Crandall’s front porch. She caught a quick glimpse of the long black scratch mark that she’d noticed before on its back fender.
She came to with a start when she realized that Di was looking at her coldly.
“You’re not going to let go of it, are you, Trixie?” Di asked. “You won’t be satisfied until you’ve found out all there is to know.”
“No, that isn’t true,” Trixie protested. “I was only wondering what that man Charlie was doing with Harrison’s bike.”
Di pushed her plate away. “But I already told you—Harrison doesn’t have a bike.”
“But, Di, he definitely told Jim that he did. And that bike was it. I should know. I certainly saw it enough times last week.”
Suddenly Di stood up. “All right, Trixie,” she said, “we’re going to settle this once and for all. Come with me. I want to show you something.” Honey looked from one to the other. “Oh, Trixie, Di! Please let’s forget the whole thing. What’s happened has happened. It’s over and done with. Leave it alone.”
But Trixie had been thinking. “Maybe it’s best if we get this settled between us. If we don’t, I think it’s always going to make a difference in how we feel about each other. And I don’t want that, Di. Do you?”
Di wasn’t listening. She was already counting out the money to pay for her lunch. “Come on,” she repeated. “We’re going to settle this—now.” Trixie’s thoughts were in a turmoil as she and Honey followed Di out of the diner. Meekly they tagged along behind, while Di marched across the square and along the street that led to the art museum.
On the other side of the road, the hospital parking lot seemed as busy as ever. Trixie sighed. So much had happened since she and Jim had been there together. Had it really been only a week ago?
Di marched into the art museum. She paused inside the door and glanced around the little entrance hall as if she were looking for someone.
Trixie glanced around, too. She had visited here many times with her classmates when she was in elementary school. It was one of the teachers’ favorite places to visit for a field trip.
Through the archway to her left, Trixie knew, was a small art gallery. The town of Sleepyside was proud of its collection. Several of its wealthier residents had famous paintings on permanent loan to the museum.
Through the archway to her right was an area that everyone called the Oriental Room. It contained ancient suits of armor that had once belonged to Japanese warriors. There were also displays of scroll paintings and delicate porcelain dishes and platters from China. Trixie guessed that it was there the Ming vase would have been proudly displayed.
Even as she gazed toward the room, she heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and a group of people sauntered through the archway.
A soft voice said clearly, “And that, ladies and gentlemen, concludes our tour for today. If you have any questions or wish to arrange special tours at any time, feel free to contact me. We hope you’ll visit us again.”
The remarks were made by a young woman wearing a name tag that read JANET GRAY. She nodded pleasantly to everyone and disappeared into the museum’s office.
Honey gasped and whispered, “Trix? Wasn’t that-?”
Trixie nodded and whispered back, “She was in Harrison’s room at the hospital. We saw her at the bazaar, and she turned up in that deserted barn. Honey, that’s another of Harrison’s accomplices. Not only that, but it’s also no wonder that I thought I’d seen her before. She used to give lectures for us schoolkids when we came here on field trips.”
“She doesn’t look like a crook,” Honey remarked. “But then, I don’t really know what a crook is supposed to look like.”
Di looked past them and called, “Ah, there you are. I was looking for you. May I see you for a moment, please?”
Trixie turned. Her jaw dropped. She found herself face-to-face with Charlie the guard. She thought he looked startled to see them.
“Oh,” he said, “good afternoon, miss. I didn’t know you were coming here today.”
“I was wondering if you’d settle a small argument for my friends,” Di said. She waved a slim hand toward a puzzled Trixie and Honey. “You see, we want to know who owns the yellow bicycle we saw you riding a few minutes ago. My friends here insist that it belongs to my butler, Harrison. I say it doesn’t.”
Charlie coughed nervously. “The bike’s mine,” he muttered. “I just lent it to Harrison one time when he needed quick transportation.”
“Then why did Harrison say the bike was his?” Trixie asked, feeling foolish.
“I’ve no idea, miss.”
“You see, Trixie,” Di continued, “Charlie Burnside here is the museum’s guard. Miss Gray is its lecturer. Both are Harrison’s friends. They have been for some time.”
“Then would you answer a question for us?” Trixie asked Charlie. “Why were the three of you at that deserted barn last week?”
Charlie looked uncomfortable. “Deserted barn? I don’t know anything about any deserted barn. Excuse me, miss. Janet and me have got some doughnuts to eat.” He hurried to the office and closed its door firmly behind him.
“Well?” Di said. “Are you satisfied?”
“I—I suppose so.” Trixie still felt puzzled. “But why didn’t you say you knew who these people were before?”
“I was angry,” Di confessed. “I didn’t feel like telling you anything at all.”
“Charlie still didn’t say what he was doing in the woods,” Honey said.
“Or if Miss Gray told Harrison about the clue in the nursery rhyme book,” Trixie added.
“What if she did?” Di said. “They’re friends, and maybe she did mention it. And maybe, too, Harrison wanted to help look for the Ming vase.”
Or steal it for himself Trixie thought. He got himself discharged from the hospital especially so that he could search for it.
Di was obviously feeling happier now that she felt she had won the argument.
“I want to show you something else,” she said in a friendlier tone
of voice. She led the way into the Oriental Room and walked up to a small glass case.
Trixie and Honey bent down to see a beautiful little green jade goddess who stood gracefully on an ebony pedestal. Her small arms and tiny cupped hands were outstretched as if to greet them.
“Oh, Di,” Honey breathed. “How lovely!”
Di was smiling. “Isn’t she perfect? Her name is Lien-Ting. Dad lent her to the museum last year.”
Trixie nodded. “Is the case locked? I suppose it must be. I would imagine she’s very valuable.”
“Yes, she is,” Di answered, bending toward the little statue. “You’d never believe all the security arrangements we had to go through when Harrison brought her here. She had to be packed in a special box, and—” She stopped and stared.
Trixie cried out at the expression on Di’s face. “What is it?” She took hold of Di’s arm. “What’s the matter? What are you looking at?”
Di didn’t answer. All the color had left her face. Then, with a smothered exclamation, she wrenched her arm free and rushed out of the room.
Trixie and Honey were frozen with astonishment. They were still staring after their friend when the tall figure of Mr. Dunham, the curator, appeared in the doorway.
“Was that Miss Lynch who just left?” he asked, his face showing his concern. “She left so suddenly. I was about to offer to show you all around the museum. Is anything wrong?”
Absently, Trixie looked down at the tiny statue of Lien-Ting.
“I’m not sure,” she said slowly, “but somehow I think Di’s just found out something—something that upset her very much. I wonder what it was.”
“The Butler Did It!” ● 16
BY THE TIME Trixie and Honey hurried out of the museum, Di had gone. They looked up and down the street, but there wasn’t a sign of her.
“I don’t understand any of this,” Honey cried. “What made her rush out like that? Where could she have gone? Oh, and here I was, thinking everything was beginning to get itself sorted out.”
Trixie sighed hopelessly. “The way I feel right now, nothing is ever going to get sorted out. The only thing we can do is to look around the area, then go back and get our bikes. Maybe Di will meet us there.”
Trixie and Honey walked around blocks and peered in shop windows for half an hour. As they looked for Di, they talked and talked about what had just happened. When they gave up their search and returned to their bicycles, they discovered that Di’s bike was gone, and they dispiritedly started home.
Mart was waiting impatiently for them at the bottom of the Lynches’ driveway. “It’s about time you two got back,” he burst out as soon as he saw them. “Where were you? Come on! We’ve all been waiting for you. There’s an emergency meeting of the Bob-Whites going on right now.”
“An emergency?” Trixie cried. “What kind of an emergency?”
“Oh, Mart!” Honey said. “Tell us quickly! Is someone hurt?”
“It’s nothing like that.”
Mart hurried them to the path that led to the clubhouse. Trixie and Honey, weary from their ride into town and back, were hard put to keep up with him.
Trixie stopped suddenly in the middle of the path. “I’m not going another step until you tell us what’s going on!” she declared.
Mart turned and looked at them both. “I may as well tell you,” he said. “You’re going to find out from Di, anyway. You were right all along, Trix. Di realizes that now. She’s blaming herself for all the trouble there was between you two. She’s very discombobulated. She says she’s ashamed to face you.”
Trixie was more bewildered than ever. “ What was I right about? Why is Di blaming herself? Mart, what on earth are you talking about?”
“It’s Harrison,” Mart said flatly. “He’s a thief, Trixie! Di says she knew it as soon as she got a good look at that statue of Lien-Ting in the museum this afternoon. It’s a fake, you see.” Trixie could hardly believe her ears. “But the goddess is so beautiful, How does Di know it isn’t the real one?”
“Apparently, Lien-Ting—the real statue—has a small crack in her right arm. It isn’t noticeable unless you know where to look. Di happened to look. The statue you saw today is flawless. It’s a clever copy.”
Honey said, “But what makes Di think that Harrison stole the original?”
“We all asked her that,” Mart answered. “She said that Harrison has always admired that particular statue. When it was displayed in the Lynch home, he wouldn’t let any of the other servants near it—not to dust it or anything. Harrison was the one person Mr. Lynch trusted to deliver it to the museum.”
“So then, Di thinks Harrison stole it?” Trixie asked.
Mart nodded. “What with everything else that’s happened lately, she thinks there isn’t any question about it. She thinks Harrison’s after the Ming vase, too. She’s been worried all along that you might be right in your suspicions about him. That’s why she’s been so upset.”
Honey took a deep breath. “What does she want the Bob-Whites to do?”
“She wants us to find Harrison. She wants us to get him to confess everything. And she wants him to return the real statue before her parents get home tomorrow.”
“Hold it, Mart,” Trixie said. “If Harrison is really a thief, Di ought to call the police.”
“She won’t do it,” Mart answered. “We’ve all tried to persuade her to talk to Sergeant Molin-son, but she doesn’t want to. She said it’s a family matter and she wants to keep it confidential.”
“But that’s crazy!” Trixie cried.
“No, it isn’t,” Honey said suddenly. “Don’t you see? She feels that Mr. Lynch, by trusting Harrison, has proved to be a poor judge of character. If that piece of news got out, what do you think everyone would say about Mr. Lynch? No, I don’t think Di’s crazy at all to try and keep it quiet. I’d do the same thing myself if our positions were reversed.”
“You’re right,” Trixie said. “I just wasn’t thinking clearly. All right, Mart, let’s go and talk to Harrison.”
“It’s not going to be that easy,” Mart said. “You see, Harrison’s skipped.”
“Skipped?”
“Skedaddled.Decamped. Absconded. In other words, he’s gone. And don’t ask me where, because I don’t know.”
They began to hurry once more toward the clubhouse.
“You know,” Mart said, “I still can’t quite believe it. Old Harrison! A thief! It just goes to show you.”
“It just goes to show us what?” Trixie asked. Mart looked at them both solemnly. “Why, that the butler did it!” he said.
Ten minutes later, the Bob-Whites had talked it over and decided on a course of action. They were going to take the horses and try to find Harrison, no matter where he might be.
As they hurried toward the stables, Trixie had a weird feeling that events were about to repeat themselves all over again:
She and Honey would ride through the woods. They’d end up at Sleepyside Hollow. They’d see an unfamiliar yellow bike propped against the front porch of a little house that smelled of lavender. In the cellar—
She came to with a start as she realized that Di was saying to her, “Oh, Trixie, can you ever forgive me? I don’t want us ever to fight again. Friends?”
Trixie hugged her. “Friends,” she agreed happily. “I don’t want us ever to fight again, either.”
“I was so miserable,” Di confessed. “Now if we can only find Harrison....”
“Are you sure he’s left for good?” Trixie asked. “When you got home this afternoon, did you look in his room? Did he take his clothes?”
“I didn’t notice. Cook said he got another phone call this afternoon and he left immediately. For some reason, she thought the call came from the museum.”
“Jeepers!” Trixie exclaimed. “Another mysterious phone call. This is getting weird. It’s just like last week, when Harrison first disappeared.” Di left them and hurried up the hill to her home. She was going to change q
uickly into her riding clothes, saddle her horse, and meet them, as before, at the Wheeler stables.
Trixie looked down at her own old jeans. They might not be formal riding attire, but at least she was comfortable in them.
The other Bob-Whites obviously felt the same way about their own clothes. No one else bothered to change.
Besides Di, Dan was the only Bob-White who had to leave them for a short while. Soon he was back, seated astride the handsome old roan Spartan. Spartan, too, was a Wheeler horse, but he was stabled with the horse belonging to Mr. Maypenny, the Wheelers’ gamekeeper.
Dan watched his friends hurrying to saddle their horses. “Everything all set?” he called cheerily.
Regan grinned up at his nephew. “Now, you look after them all, Dan, my boy.”
Mart smiled. “And don’t gallop through the woods.”
“Watch out for loose stones,” Brian added, chuckling.
“And trailing roots,” Honey said.
“And things that go bump in the night,” Jim called. “Your turn, Trixie.”
But Trixie was off in a daydream. She was frowning as she tightened Susie’s girth strap. “I was just wondering,” she said slowly, “where we should start looking.”
“We already discussed that,” Mart said, leading Strawberry out of his stall. “I thought we decided to go straight to Sleepyside Hollow.”
“I know,” Trixie answered, “but I keep on trying to remember something—something very important.”
She still hadn’t thought of it when Di, riding Sunny, cantered into the stable yard. Soon all the Bob-Whites were riding easily across the broad meadow.
Suddenly Trixie called, “Oh, stop! Please, stop!”
The horses came to a reluctant halt. They snorted, tossed their heads, and pawed at the ground impatiently. Their riders held them steady.
“What is it, Trix?” Jim asked.
“I want to go over everything again,” Trixie said. “We’re missing something somewhere. I just know we are.”
“All right,” Honey said promptly. “Where do you want to start?”
“It all seemed to begin with the Ming vase,” Trixie said, “so let’s start with that. Mr. Parkinson, the vase’s owner, had it delivered to the museum. Somebody saw Jonathan Crandall receive it.”
The Mystery of the Headless Horseman Page 11
