The Mystery on the Mississippi

by Campbell, Julie

  We couldn’t see a clue if it walked up and slapped us on the back. I want to see that exhibit. I think we’d better pull out. Jim, are those headlights coming up the road?”

  “Looks like it. They’ve just turned off the county road and are coming this way. I’d better scram.”

  “Oh, don’t do that!” Trixie begged. “We’re just on the brink of finding something out. I’m sure of it. This old scary house—”

  “That’s good reason for us to get out of here,” Brian said with authority. “Pull out fast, Jim.”

  “It’s too late now. Maybe I can back out. I can pull around to the rear of the house and hide the car, maybe, back in that grove. Hold on, everybody!” Jim backed skillfully, turned the car around, and headed for the grove. He was fortunate to find cover without any trouble, for he couldn’t use his lights. Then they all sat, without a word, watching.

  The car sped up the drive and stopped under the porte cochère. Three forms got out quickly and climbed the few steps to the carriage entrance.

  The Bob-Whites strained their eyes to catch a glimpse of the three persons, but in vain. They disappeared into the house so quickly that they were just a blur of murky shapes.

  Flickering lights appeared as the visitors went up to the second floor, then the third. There, a single bulb, just visible through an uncurtained window, showed a barnlike, apparently vacant room.

  “I’d say this is our time to get out,” Mart said, “when they’re all inside the house.”

  “Just what I was thinking,” Brian agreed.

  “And me.” Jim turned the ignition key.

  “Oh, Jim, don’t go away now, please,” Trixie begged. “I just know we’re on Lontard’s trail.”

  “And I know we’re going to get a dose of shot in our backs if we don’t get off private property,” Mart said. “Trixie, you sure do go in for wild guesses. This is someone’s home, and we’re trespassing. The quicker we get out of here the better, if we want to save our hides. Right, Jim?”

  “Right!” Jim stepped hard on the gas.

  Trixie was crushed. As the car sped down the driveway and out toward the road, she looked back longingly. Suddenly the house was ablaze with light. Doors were thrown open, shadowy shapes ran out to the waiting automobile, and soon the big car’s motor roared.

  “Hurry!” Mart urged. “Give her more gas, Jim!”

  “I’m hurrying. This is as fast as I can go,” Jim shouted.

  “Then it isn’t fast enough. Listen to that baby roar! They’ll be on us in a minute. Turn off the road, Jim!”

  “What do you think he’s doing?” Dan cried.

  Jim slid the car down a small incline and took cover under the trees.

  The big car, its lights glaring, tore past the hidden car and out onto the county road, went around the corner on two wheels, and roared off down the highway.

  The Bob-Whites sighed with relief—all but Trixie. Her puzzled gaze followed the dark bulk of the big car till it disappeared. Then she shook her head as though to clear her thoughts and said determinedly, “Now’s our chance to see what’s going on back in that big house.”

  “Are you crazy?” Mart answered. “If you think Lontard bas anything to do with that old house back there, tell it to the federal agents. It’s their job. I don’t have to remind you that we promised not to take any chances. And, obviously, the people who live there don’t like company. I say leave it to the authorities. How about it, gang?”

  Even Honey agreed with Mart. “I doubt if that house has anything to do with our case. We just happened to get into somebody’s private estate, and they wanted to find out who we were, that’s all.”

  “Maybe so,” Trixie said reluctantly. “That car that passed us... I wonder! Do you have any idea where we are, Jim?”

  “Not the vaguest.”

  “There was a sign where we turned off the road. That is, I think I saw something that looked like a sign. Where’s the flashlight?” Trixie asked.

  Jim passed it over his shoulder to her, and as the car rounded a curve to the county highway, Trixie flashed the light around. Sure enough, there was a sign. Trixie read it silently. When its significance struck her, she read it again, aloud and triumphantly: “ ‘St. Peter’! Now, what do you think of that?”

  “Not a thing,” Mart said, disgusted. “How about letting us in on what you’re gloating about?”

  “St. Peter!” Trixie repeated excitedly. “It’s as plain as the nose on your face. It’s another one of those stopping places on Lontard’s map. Remember the old man with the beard? St. Peter, of course!”

  Mart laughed derisively. “Of all the far-fetched ideas I’ve heard, Trixie Belden, this one takes the cake. St. Peter! I seem to remember that there was a picture of a steamboat with the picture of the old man. Probably an old steamboat captain, instead of St. Peter. St. Peter is a town.”

  “Well, all I can say is this: You wait and see, Mart, and all the rest of you, too. If you’d only gone back to that house, maybe we could have found out what the picture of the steamboat meant. Maybe there’s an old steamboat on the river back of the house. You wait and see!”

  “Maybe there isn’t, too,” Mart laughed. “I’d like to see your face when you tell all this junk to the federal investigators.”

  “You won’t have a long wait,” Trixie said, settling back in the seat. “We’re going to talk to them in the morning, before Mr. Brandio’s plane takes us back to New York. I think you’ll be laughing on the other side of your face.”

  Suddenly a thought struck her. She remembered the shape of the big car that had passed them. “Yes, sirree, Mart Belden, you’ll be laughing on the other side of your face. Did you happen, by any chance, to notice what kind of a car that was as it passed us? Did you?” Trixie’s voice rose confidently. “Did you? It was a Mercedes. I’m practically positive.”

  “Golly!” Mart said, awed. “You could be right, Trix. Golly!”

  The Aguileras Again ● 13

  IT WAS LONG after seven o’clock when the Bob-Whites returned to their St. Louis motel. The rain had stopped, and the air was cooling.

  “Nobody’d ever think we almost drowned in a rainstorm not fifty miles north,” Mart said. “It didn’t any more than sprinkle here. Am I glad of that! It means the exhibit at the airplane factories wasn’t rained out. Get a place to park fast, Jim, and let’s get going. Can’t we drop the girls and go right on from here?”

  “What do you mean ‘drop the girls’?” Trixie asked indignantly. “We want to see the exhibit, too. If you’d only think, you’d realize that there’ll be lots of girls among the future astronauts. How do you know Honey and I may not want to try it someday?”

  “I can imagine you orbiting the moon, all right. It’s a little harder to imagine Honey doing it.”

  “Where Trixie goes, I go, too,” Honey said. “The Belden-Wheeler Agency will probably have lots of cases in outer space.”

  “That may be so,” Brian told her. “Tonight I think it’s a good idea for you to stay home. Trixie almost drowned at dawn, and we had quite a day at Hannibal and in the cloudburst on the way home.”

  “I’m no baby,” Trixie insisted. “I’m not a bit tired. We’ll clean up a little and get something to eat in the restaurant. Then Honey and I will go to the exhibit, too. Who knows? We may pick up something terribly important there.”

  The Bob-Whites piled out of the car and went into the motel. As they passed the desk, a clerk gave Jim several messages that had accumulated during the day.

  “Most of them are from Dad,” Jim said. “I guess he’s been trying to find out if we were back home and if we want to go to the exhibit. All the notes say is for me to call him.”

  “We were going to do that, anyway,” Trixie said. “We have to report what happened today. If he thinks it’s important, he’ll pass it on to the police, I guess. He’d be sure to do it if we could tell him about the paper Lem found. I wish our agency could do more to help on this case. It really is o
ur case, and now the authorities have taken over, and we don’t even know what’s happening. Are you going to call your father, Jim?”

  “Right now. Let’s call him from my room. I may need the rest of you to fill me in on some of the facts.” While Jim talked, the Bob-Whites crowded around the telephone.

  “Yes, Dad.... No, Dad.... Yes, I think so.... No, I’m telling you about it just as it happened.... I can’t tell you just why Trixie thinks Jackson’s Island is hooked up with Lontard. She’s certain of it, though.”

  The Bob-Whites could hear Mr. Wheeler laughing heartily.

  “I might say the rest of us are pretty certain of it too, Dad. We’re pretty sure of one thing: It was Lontard on that county road.... Mercedes, yes. Well, Trixie wanted to go back and investigate.”

  The Bob-Whites kept quiet as Jim told the story. They seemed on edge as he went over the details.

  “We didn't let her go back to the old house. We knew you wouldn’t want her to do it.... Yes, she was all worked up about that crazy map of the river that had the sketches on it. She’s sure that the old man with the beard was St. Peter—the old man on the map. The sign we saw said ‘St. Peter.’ It was right near the old house.... Yes, Dad, here she is.”

  Trixie took the telephone. As she talked, her face clouded and reddened; then her mouth sagged. “I’m not tired. I’m just as rested as anybody could be. I rested in the car coming back. Yes, Mr. Wheeler. I see, Mr. Wheeler. Well, I guess I’ll have to, then.” When Trixie relinquished the receiver, she was provoked. “You could have told him, Jim, that I’m all right. Now I can’t go with all of you to the exhibit. I know I should be there. You’d think I was an old woman of sixty and had to go to bed with some sassafras tea or whatever it is they give old ladies. I wish my father could be here.” She stamped her feet angrily. “He’d let me go.”

  “I don’t think he would,” Honey told her. “My dad lets us do just as much as yours does. You know that, Trixie.”

  “Yeah,” Mart said, “and if Dad did weaken and let you go, Moms would veto it pretty quickly.”

  “I suppose you’re both right. I’m sorry I spoke as I did. I hate to pass up the exhibit. I wish I could go.” Honey put her arm around Trixie. “I’m not going if you don’t go. It isn’t that important to me. We can pick up a magazine at the coffee shop. We can watch television, too, while the boys are off at the exhibit.” The girls walked slowly to their room.

  “You don’t have to stay here because of me, Honey. I don’t want you to do that. If you want to go, please do.”

  “I don’t want to go. We can write up an account of everything that’s happened so far on this case. That can be useful to the government agents in following up the case after we go back to Sleepyside.” Trixie opened the door to their room. “I wish we didn’t have to give up the case and turn it over to the authorities.”

  “The telephone’s ringing. You answer it, Trixie. It’s probably the boys calling to tell us to hurry over to the coffee shop.”

  “Shhhh!” Trixie held up a warning finger. “It’s the government investigator.”

  Apparently the authorities were checking on Mr. Wheeler’s report of the day’s happenings, because they asked Trixie to tell them, in detail, everything that had occurred from the time they arrived in Hannibal. She told them about the teeth that turned out to be the fence Tom Sawyer once whitewashed. She reported their visit to Jackson’s Island. She couldn’t tell them of Lem’s account of the men he and Soapy saw in the night, but she did say she thought Jackson’s Island was a very important link in the chain. Then she told what happened on the way home, stopping frequently to give Honey a chance to add to the story or to corroborate something she said.

  After Trixie finished talking, she said to Honey, “I honestly think they’re beginning to think we’re right, Honey, and that this is an important case.

  “That agent asked me about every little thing. I was afraid he’d question me more about the island, but he didn’t. I know Mart wasn’t much impressed with the old house part of it....”

  “He was when the Mercedes passed us.”

  “That’s right. He was. The investigator seemed to think it has real bearing on the case. I guess it’s a good thing I’m not going to that exhibit, after all, much as I’d like to go.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the agent said he may have to communicate with us further, after he’s talked to the rest of the men. He asked me if I’d be available later on.” Outside the girls’ room, the Bob-White whistle shrilled.

  “That’s Jim,” Honey said. “They probably want us to hurry to the restaurant. Are you ready?”

  At the counter, Trixie admitted, “I’m famished, and I didn’t realize it. I thought I’d never be hungry again, after all that fried fish and bacon and eggs on Jackson’s Island. Did you ever taste such fish in all your life?”

  “We get some pretty good fish in the creek in our woods back home,” Jim said, “but they don’t taste like the fish Lem caught.”

  “There aren’t any catfish in our creek,” Mart lamented. “At least, I never saw one there. Did you get Lem’s address so we could write to him?”

  “I did,” Trixie said. “It’s a good thing I did, too, because when I talked to the authorities, they said they wanted it.”

  “When you did what?” Brian shouted.

  “You haven’t given me a chance to tell you that the federal agent called me about what happened today. You thought it wasn’t important, Mart.”

  “I never said any such thing, especially after the Mercedes. Boy! Tell us what the agent said, Trix.” So Trixie brought them up to date. As she ended her story, she was conscious of Honey’s nudging. “What’s up?” she asked curiously.

  “Look who just took a seat over there in the corner,” Honey whispered. “Pass the word along to the boys. It’s Mr. and Mrs. Aguilera, isn’t it?”

  At that minute, Mrs. Aguilera caught sight of the Bob-Whites seated along the counter. She got up, and her husband followed.

  “Honey! Trixie!” she cried, hugging them both. “We’re so glad to see you! We got here this afternoon and tried to call your room a while ago, but there was no answer. We thought you were probably off sight-seeing. Aren’t you surprised to see us here?” Trixie, quickly recovered from the first shock of surprise, answered, “Well, Fm surprised certainly.

  I guess the others are, too. Did anything happen to the Catfish Princess?” Her voice was anxious.

  Mrs. Aguilera laughed. “Oh, no. Something happened to us. When we stopped at Memphis, there was a letter there waiting for us—”

  “How did you get here?” Trixie broke in.

  “I’m coming to that, Trixie,” Mrs. Aguilera said indulgently. “You see, my husband and I are writing a book about rivers— But then, I told you that a long time ago on the towboat, didn’t I?”

  “Get to the point, Elena!” her husband said impatiently.

  “Yes, I’ll do that. Give me a minute. The letter at Memphis was from our publisher. He said we must bring the work up to date immediately, then return East for another assignment. I guess he thought we were having too good a time traveling up and down the Mississippi. He should have had to cook for all those people!”

  “Then how do you happen to be here at this motel?” Trixie wanted to know.

  “You don’t sound very pleased, Trixie,” Mrs. Aguilera said, irritated.

  “Oh, I am... I think... well, I think it’s swell.”

  “I think it’s wonderful,” Honey added quickly. “I’m so glad to see you again. Trixie was only surprised. That’s why she sounded the way she did.” Jim leaned over past his sister and asked quietly,

  “Just how did you happen to come here, Mrs. Aguilera? We’re curious.”

  “Yes, we are,” Honey repeated. “We did hope we’d see you again sometime, and now it’s happened. Tell us about Captain Martin, Deena, and Paul.”

  Mrs. Aguilera hugged Honey again. “Thank you, dear. I did look forwar
d to seeing all the Bob-Whites again. Deena and Paul both sent messages to you. Captain Martin, too. He said to tell you he’d found out who ransacked your cabin. It was one of the new deckhands. Captain Martin put him off the boat at the next stop after Cairo. But that’s an old story. First I must tell you why we are here at the motel. It’s really your fault.”

  “Our fault?” Brian asked, raising his eyebrows. “In a way. My husband’s manuscript and my pictures and films were in such disorder that we felt we had to find a place to stay for at least a day or so, to put things in order before going East.”

  Mr. Aguilera seemed to come to life as his wife talked. “So we remembered what you’d said about this place near the airport. It seemed to be just what we were looking for, and here we are.”

  “Did you fly here from Memphis?” Trixie asked. “No. Fortunately we had left our car at Memphis. It was the place where, we stopped first on the river when we came from the East. I took quite a lot of pictures around there, and my husband made notes.

  We rode north with a friend who had business in St. Louis, hoping to take a boat down the river, pick up our car again in Memphis, and maybe go on down to New Orleans. We were fortunate to get jobs on the Catfish Princess. ”

  “It sounds kind of mixed-up,” Mart said, “but I hope you like it here at the motel. We do. At least, I guess we’d like it if we were ever here long enough to find out. Here comes our food.”

  “Then we mustn’t interrupt you further,” Mrs. Aguilera said, taking her husband’s arm. “Perhaps we’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked the girls.

  “Oh, yes,” Honey said quickly. “That is, I guess maybe we will. We’re going to fly back to New York tomorrow.”

  “On what flight?”

  “No regular flight. We came out here as Mr. Brandio’s guests. He owns one of the airplane factories here. We’ll go back on his private plane, whenever he gets ready to leave. I’m sure we’ll see you in the morning, though.”

  “How about tonight?” Mrs. Aguilera persisted. “We could have a little talk this evening, maybe?”