“I doubt it,” Trixie said. “We were all talking at once right after I dashed into the hall. And then the grandfather clock began to strike. It dongs and whirs and wheezes like anything, especially when it has the chore of telling the world that it’s midnight.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Brian said. “I don’t like that Dick guy any more than you do, Trixie, even though his lips aren’t too thin at the moment, and I can’t tell with that shiner what his eyes normally are like. But who knows? He might have driven into town last night and got into a brawl at the dogwagon. That would explain why he lied and said that Jupiter kicked him.”
“That’s right,” Mart agreed. “When the head of the house is away, even the most highly recommended chauffeur might take a little liberty here and there. Is there any law up at the Manor House, Trixie, that says the chauffeur has to stay in when Regan is off?”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Trixie said. “Miss Trask may get around to that eventually, but they never had a chauffeur until yesterday when they hired Dick.”
“And you found the diamond on Wednesday?” Brian shook his head. “It does seem like pretty much of a coincidence that both men applied for jobs so soon after that.”
“I tell you what,” Trixie interrupted as she was struck with an idea. “While I’m helping Moms, why don’t you try to find out what kind of shoes Nailor and Dick wear? If their heels match the prints Honey and I found inside the cottage and by the road, we’ll know that it wasn’t a coincidence.”
“Okay,” Mart said, giving her a fond pat on the arm as he held the kitchen door open for her. “Get to your dusting, slave-girl. We vacationing men will take over the sleuthing!”
Chapter 8
Lost: A Diamond
Even though Trixie was busy every minute helping her mother, the morning dragged on and on. She kept wondering what the others were doing and if they had found any more clues.
Brian and Mart did not come back to the house until she was setting the table for lunch. Brian’s face was expressionless, but Mart gave her a secret wink.
“Bobby,” he said to his mother, as he scrubbed his hands at the kitchen sink, “is getting to be quite a horseman. Jim gave him a ride on Lady a while ago, and the kid’s really good.”
“Where is he now?” Mrs. Belden asked. “Didn’t he come back from the Wheelers’ with you?”
“Don’t worry about him,” Brian said easily. “When last seen he was helping, or rather, hindering, Jim and Honey who are swapping rooms. I’ll run up and see if he’s still under their feet.”
“He probably invited himself to stay for lunch,” Trixie said after Brian left. “Bobby is in full charge up there.”
“We must be careful not to let him become a nuisance,” Mrs. Belden said worriedly. “He could talk of no one but his new friend when I put him to bed last night—Dick. Is he the new gardener, Trixie?”
“No, Moms,” Trixie said. “Dick’s the new chauffeur.” She crossed her fingers. “He and Bobby are just like this.”
“Here they come now,” Mart said from the window that looked out on the back terrace. “Dick seems to be Bobby’s fiery steed at the moment.”
In another minute Bobby burst into the kitchen followed by his older brother. “Dick and me,” the little boy yelled excitedly, “has another see-crud.”
“Dick and I have,” his mother corrected him patiently. “Come here, Bobby, and let me wash your hands. You’re really naughty, you know. You should have come home when Brian and Mart did.”
“Couldn’t,” Bobby said loftily. “They wented home too soon. I was busy.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mart gently pulled one of Bobby’s yellow curls. “Busy as a bear in the wintertime, I suppose.”
“Was so busy,” Bobby said, raising his voice. “I was helping Dick. We had to clean the cars. He’s going away this afternoon.”
“Where to?” Trixie asked suspiciously. “He isn’t due for a day off yet. He just started to work yesterday.”
“He’s got the day off,” Bobby informed her as he climbed into his chair at the table. “He axed Miss Trask, and she said he could. But he’s gotta come back tonight.”
“How do you like that?” Mart asked Brian. “If Dick gets half a day off every other day, he’ll soon be owing Mr. Wheeler money. Chauffeurs, I gather from Jim, get paid in advance, unlike junior counselors.”
Mrs. Belden laughed and handed him a plate heaped high with macaroni and cheese. “From the way you talk, Mart, one would think you’d been worked to death this summer,” she said. “I happen to know better.”
Mart chuckled. “Can’t a man get any sympathy from his own mother?”
“Not in this case,” Mrs. Belden said firmly.
“If anyone deserves sympathy,” Trixie put in, “it’s me; I mean, I. Work, work, work, that’s all I’ve done the whole livelong summer.”
Brian howled with laughter. “How about that trailer trip, honey chile? And when did you find time to learn to ride and improve your crawl stroke?”
They all laughed, then, and after lunch the boys insisted upon washing and drying the dishes. “We’re more efficient than you,” Mart told Trixie, “so we’ll get through sooner.” He added in a whisper, “Scram. Honey is dying to tell you the latest dope.”
Trixie needed no further urging. She dashed out of the kitchen, hopped over the terrace wall, and tore across the fields to the path. At the top of the hill, she met Honey on her way down.
“Did you get a chance to talk with Brian and Mart?” Honey asked immediately.
Trixie shook her head. “Moms was around all the time. What’s the news? Did you show them our clues?”
“I tried to,” Honey said, “but there weren’t any left. Someone had walked all over the heelmarks in the cottage, and another car had driven over the clues down by the road.”
“How about the footprints in the thicket?” Trixie asked wonderingly.
“They were crisscrossed with other footprints,” Honey said forlornly. “And all of them were so messy you couldn’t really tell a thing, even though we examined them carefully with flashlights.” She sighed. “I suppose Nailor messed up the clues on the cottage floor. He was mowing down near the cottage this morning, and, after all, we left the door wide open; so I imagine he got curious and went inside.”
“I guess so,” Trixie said in a depressed tone of voice. “And somebody driving north along the road must have pulled off to the side to change a tire or something. Just our luck that he had to park on top of our clues.”
“Well, anyway,” Honey said, trying to be cheerful, “Miss Trask wasn’t at all suspicious when Jim and I asked her if we could change rooms. She said changes of one’s environment were always very good for one.”
“I’ve heard the word mentioned,” Trixie said, “but I don’t know what it means, exactly. Your surroundings?”
“That’s right,” Honey said. “What did you think of Dick’s black eye?”
“On him,” Trixie said with a sniff, “it looked swell. And I liked his battered mouth, too. Did he try to tell you that Jupe kicked him?”
“He didn’t say anything to me about it at all,” Honey said. “And I don’t know what excuse he gave Miss Trask. Anyway, she gave him the afternoon off, so he could go see his doctor in New York. He just drove off in his own car.”
“What time is he coming back?” Trixie asked. “In time to walk into our trap, I hope.”
“He said he’d be back late this afternoon or early this evening,” Honey said. “But, of course, that depends on what his doctor says. If his eye closes completely, he really shouldn’t drive a car. I hope he isn’t laid up for long. He’s going to give Jim driving lessons right away, you know.”
“I didn’t know,” Trixie said. “Did he suggest the idea himself, or did Miss Trask order him to do it?”
“Oh, it was Dick’s idea,” Honey said. “He’s really very nice and polite to me and Jim. Just before he left, he asked Jim if he knew
how to drive; and when Jim said he didn’t, he offered to teach him.”
“Well, well, well,” Trixie said. “I guess I’m the only one on his hate list. And I couldn’t care less.” She disconsolately kicked a pebble on the driveway. “I wish we dared go search his room for clues.”
“Oh, we couldn’t possibly do that,” Honey cried.
“I know, I know,” Trixie moaned; “but I can dream, can’t I?” Suddenly, she grabbed Honey’s arm. “We can search the grounds for clues, can’t we? I mean, suppose we found footprints with rubber heels to match the other ones?”
“What a wonderful idea,” Honey said. “Where’ll we start?”
“Wherever Dick may have been walking,” Trixie replied promptly.
Honey sighed. “As far as I know, he’s only walked across the driveway from the garage to the kitchen door when he went inside for meals. We can’t hope to find footprints in the gravel.”
“Don’t be silly,” Trixie said. “Bobby showed him all over the place yesterday. They couldn’t have kept to the driveway or the lawns all the time. Not with Bobby conducting the sightseeing tour. Let’s look in all the flower beds.”
Honey laughed. “Even if we should find footprints in the flower beds, it won’t prove anything. They could have been made by Gallagher.”
“True, too true,” Trixie said with a groan. “I give up.”
Jim came down the front steps, then. “Why so gloomy, girls?”
“Why so cheery?” Trixie came back at him. “All our clues ruined!”
“They didn’t amount to a row of pins, anyway,” Jim said. “Not to us, anyway. Police detectives could probably have learned a lot from the tire treadmarks and rubber-heeled imprints, but we haven’t a crime lab.” He grinned at Trixie. “A lot of people have rubber heels on their shoes and drive cars with rubber tires.”
Suddenly, Trixie remembered something. “Honey,” she hissed. “Where is the diamond, now?”
Honey turned pale. “I d-don’t know. The l-last time I had it was down by your chicken coop. Everyone was taking turns looking at it while you were telling your brothers how we found it.” She clutched Jim’s arm. “Oh, OH! Suppose somebody dropped it in that long grass.”
Trixie felt sick and weak with worry. “A crow has probably made off with it by now, Honey; and I know about crows. They can’t resist anything that glitters.”
“Hold your horses,” Jim said. “Even a crow’s sharp eyes couldn’t see through that long grass. Let’s get down and have a look before we jump to conclusions.”
“I can’t take a step,” Trixie said, collapsing on the lawn. “My knees are shaking, and I’ve got butterflies in my stomach. I just know we’ll never see that diamond again.”
Honey sank down beside her. “I can’t move, either. Oh, why didn’t I leave it in my jewelry box?”
Jim stared at them with disgust. “Pull yourselves together,” he said sternly. “There’s no point in crossing bridges until you come to them. A fine pair of female detectives you two are going to make!”
Trixie immediately scrambled to her feet, her cheeks flaming. “You’re absolutely right, Jim,” she said coldly. “The diamond is probably perfectly safe. Come on, Honey, let’s go find it. It’s our worry, not Jim’s.”
“Temper, temper,” Jim said, helping Honey to her feet. “We’ll all go look. We’re all in this mess, now. If it’s lost, it’s as much my fault as yours. I should have made you turn it over to the police.”
“I hope it is lost,” Honey said suddenly. “I never want to see the horrid thing again. It’s practically ruined my whole summer.”
Jim hooted. “This is Friday afternoon, and you found it Wednesday morning. What brief summers you have, Miss Wheeler!”
Honey giggled nervously. “Oh, you know what I mean, Jim. Anyway, if it is lost, who’s going to know that we lost it?”
“Or found it, for that matter,” Trixie said, cheering up. “I’m sure Dick stole it, so it certainly doesn’t belong to him.”
“It belongs to somebody,” Jim pointed out as they hurried down the path to the hollow. “And that somebody must have notified the police when it was stolen. We can be pretty sure of that.”
“Then you agree with us now?” Trixie asked triumphantly. “It was stolen, and whoever stole it dropped it in the cottage?”
“I don’t know what else to believe,” Jim admitted. “But any way you look at it, whether it was lost or stolen, whoever owns it must have notified the police right away. Sooner or later, detectives are going to show up in this neck of the woods and start asking questions. In fact, I’m surprised that they haven’t yet.”
“Maybe Dick’s a plain-clothes man in disguise,” Honey interrupted. “Maybe he got that black eye fighting with the man who tried to sneak into my room last night. Maybe he captured him and took him to the police station last night. Maybe the man has confessed that he stole the diamond; but he lost it and we found it. Oh, oh,” she finished, “now what’ll we do?”
Trixie stuck her fingers in her ears. “Don’t talk like that, Honey,” she begged. “I can’t stand it.”
“Whoa, both of you,” Jim said. “Curb your imaginations. We don’t even know for sure that it was a man who tried to sneak into your room last night, Honey. It might have been one of the maids. Helen, for instance. Miss Trask just hired her on Monday. Suppose she took a walk through the woods Wednesday and saw you go into the cottage? It might have been she who listened in the thicket and heard you say that you had put it in your jewelry box. She could have come back last night and sneaked into the house. It’s only a two-mile walk from the village.”
Honey stared at him. “You don’t really suspect Helen, do you, Jim? She could have stolen the diamond in the daytime when she cleaned the bedrooms.”
Jim grinned. “I don’t really suspect anybody. I’m just trying to show you two girl-detectives that a lot of people besides Dick and Nailor may know that you found the diamond in the cottage. Gallagher, for instance. Don’t you think it’s suspicious that he quit the very day you found it? Why should he get mad just because you walked off with his pruning saws and shovels? There’s no pruning to be done at this time of the year.”
“He was doing a lot of transplanting,” Honey said. “Maybe he needed the shovels.”
“Normal people,” Jim told her, “use spades when they dig holes in the ground. They use shovels when they want to clear away coal or dirt and things like that. Next time you decide to look for buried treasure, take spades.”
“Thanks for the information,” Trixie said. “And stop trying to make us suspect Gallagher. If he snooped around the cottage Wednesday and heard that we’d found a valuable diamond, the last thing he would have done was quit. He would have stayed on hoping for a chance to get into the house, so he could swipe it.” She got down on her hands and knees and began to peer into the long grass by the chicken coop. “Let’s crawl while we look for it, instead of walking,” she said. “If we walk on it, we might trample it so deeply into the ground that it never can be found.”
“That’s right,” Honey agreed. “If we crawl on it, we’ll feel it with our knees like Bobby did.”
They searched in silence for a while and then Jim said, “A perfectly ordinary tramp, who had nothing to do with the theft of the diamond, might have been strolling along Glen Road Wednesday morning. When he passed the cottage, he might have heard you talking and decided to eavesdrop just out of curiosity.”
“Oh, stop it, Jim,” Trixie begged. “No ordinary tramp tried to sneak into Honey’s room last night. How could he have possibly known which room was hers?”
“You’ve got me there,” Jim admitted, “but here’s another idea. Maybe Brian tucked the diamond in the pocket of his swimming trunks—or Mart.”
“Don’t even say such a thing,” Honey wailed. “If we have to comb the bottom of the lake, I’ll drown myself right now.”
“You’re a good enough diver to find it,” Jim said, “but what I’m trying
to say is that the diamond may still be in the pocket.”
“We wouldn’t have any such luck,” Trixie moaned. “Even if Brian put it in his pocket and buttoned the flap, a snapping turtle got it out, somehow.”
Honey giggled. “Go on into the house and ask your brothers, Trixie. One of them may know where it is.”
“Here they come now,” Trixie said. “All three of them. Be careful what you say in front of Bobby unless you want the whole Sleepyside police force out here asking us embarrassing questions.”
“What cooks, gang?” Mart asked when he came closer to the rock where Trixie had perched that morning. “Haven’t you got anything more exciting to do than look for four-leaf clovers?”
Trixie coughed loudly. “That’s just what we’re looking for. A clover with facets. Facets. Have you got it, Mart?”
Mart stared at her, and Bobby promptly said, “I know what a facet is. I washed my hands under the kitchen facet when I got through making mud pies.”
“Fine,” Trixie said. “Now go back and wash them again. Your fingernails are dirty.”
“Are not!” Bobby yelled. “Yours are.”
“So they are,” Trixie admitted. “Run in the house and get me a nail file, will you, please, Bobby darling?”
“No,” Bobby said firmly. “Go get it your own self.”
Trixie turned to Brian with a hopeless expression on her face. “Have you by any chance got you-know-what?”
For answer, Brian turned the pockets of his jeans inside out, and Mart followed suit.
“This is the end,” Trixie gasped, sinking down on the rock.
“It would help,” Mart said, “if we knew what you were looking for.”
Then Jim got an idea. “A famous, very rich man, with the same first name as mine, collected jewels and got himself a nickname. Guess who?”
“James Buchanan Brady,” Brian said promptly, “more commonly known as Di—”
Trixie was seized with a violent fit of coughing then; Honey hummed loudly, and Jim whistled shrilly through his fingers.
“Gleeps,” Mart yelled. “I get it. Oh, no!”
The Gatehouse Mystery Page 7
