“We’re going to be away this evening,” Dan said. “Sorry.”
“We’re not!” Honey sang out. “That is, I mean Trixie and I aren’t going to the exhibit of spaceships with the boys.”
“I guess you don’t remember why you aren’t going,” Dan reminded her. “Mrs. Aguilera, it’s because Mr. Wheeler thought Trixie should get to bed early.”
“Oh, of course,” Honey said. “You see, Trixie almost drowned in the pool early this morning—”
“If you’ll excuse us now,” Trixie said abruptly, “we’ll go on to our room. We undoubtedly will see you in the morning. Have you finished eating, Honey?”
“No, not quite. What’s the big hurry?” Honey asked. “Mrs. Aguilera, we will see you and your husband before we leave. And if you’re ever in New York or just passing through Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson—”
“Do look us up,” Trixie said, trying to make her voice cordial. “Good-bye for now.”
The Aguileras returned to their table, and the boys went on to the exhibit. Honey and Trixie went to their room.
“I must say you were awfully high-handed with Mr. and Mrs. Aguilera, Trixie.” Honey’s face was red. “You could have been a little nicer, without half trying.”
“I didn’t mean to be ‘not nice,’ as you say. I don’t happen to like either one of them.”
“That’s no reason to be so uppity. You might try remembering that Mrs. Aguilera practically saved your life on the Catfish Princess. ”
“I wish I were as sure of that as you seem to be. I don’t trust her, somehow or other. I’m not even sure she didn’t push me, back there on the towboat, nearly knock me overboard, and then make it look as though she had saved my life.”
“Why, Trixie Belden, I never heard of anything so insane in all my life. Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know. I feel it in my bones. When I feel anything in my bones, I can’t help the way I act.”
“I’ll say this much, then. I’m pretty good at guessing what people are like, too, and I’d trust Mrs. Aguilera anyplace. You’re not acting like yourself.”
“Maybe I’m not,” Trixie said doubtfully. “Maybe she’s all right. Maybe she’s won all the medals there are for being trustworthy. But I don’t like the look on her face when she’s talking to us.”
“Go ahead, then. Think what you want to think. As far as I’m concerned, I think they’re both awfully nice people, though Mr. Aguilera never has much to say. I don’t know many people who can write books or take pictures to illustrate them. Maybe they’ll put us in their book.”
“Oh, Honey, let’s quit talking about the Aguileras. When we don’t agree on something, we usually agree to disagree. Let’s turn on your transistor radio. We can get some music to make us sleepy.”
“I don’t need anything to make me sleepy. I shouldn’t think that you would, either, after all you’ve been through today.” Honey yawned.
Trixie took the hint. She crept into her twin bed and turned off the light. The transistor on the table between them was turned low; it was playing dreamy music. Soon Trixie was aware of Honey’s rhythmic breathing and knew her friend had fallen sound asleep. She listened a little longer, then snapped off the radio and turned on her side.
A soft light from the pool area filtered through the Venetian blinds at the window. It was past closing time at the pool. There was not much sound from anywhere, except the occasional noise of an automobile as it passed far out in front of the motel area.
Trixie couldn’t sleep. All the events of their stay in St. Louis and their trip down the river went through her mind. She tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, but she couldn’t. I've never been so mixed up, she thought. Anybody would know that something terrible is going on, but I can't figure out what it is.
A shadowy figure crossed in front of the curtained window. Then another. No, the same one going back again, trying hard to be soundless.
Trixie, instantly alert, sat up in bed, her eyes turned toward the window. From somewhere nearby, she heard whispering. Then came a knock at the door.
She slipped into her skirt, blouse, and loafers, then aroused Honey. She waited till Honey was dressed before opening the door and discovering their caller. Mr. and Mrs. Aguilera stood there.
“We’re sorry to awaken you,” Mrs. Aguilera apologized, “especially since you need rest so badly, Trixie.”
“What is it? Has something happened? Is anything wrong with the boys?” Trixie’s words fell over one another.
“No, it isn’t that,” Mrs. Aguilera said hastily. “I must hurry to tell you, for we haven’t a minute to lose. Someone has been lurking outside your window, and my husband and I have waited for a chance to knock at your door without being seen.”
“Yes? What has happened now?” Trixie asked. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”
Mrs. Aguilera smiled and handed Trixie a folded note. “It’s from the authorities.”
“The authorities?” Trixie asked, completely dum-founded.
“Yes. Didn’t you guess? I was sure you knew by this time that my husband and I have been working with the federal investigators. Read it quickly!” Trixie held the paper under the floor lamp and read out loud:
“Trixie: Since I talked with you earlier this evening, things have happened pretty fast. Our agents, Mr. and Mrs. Aguilera, will explain to you what I mean. Please obey without hesitation what they ask you to do. Your life may depend upon it. Trust Mr. and Mrs. Aguilera. They are protecting you.”
The message was signed “Leighton N. Ogilvie, Chief, Federal Bureau of Investigation, St. Louis District.”
A New Development ● 14
A STRANGE LOOK of unbelief crossed Trixie’s face as she read the note. Without a word, she passed it on to Honey.
“Then you really are on the federal staff?” Trixie asked slowly.
“There! See?” Honey said, thrusting the note back into Trixie’s hand. “I told you so. I always knew she was someone special.”
Mrs. Aguilera laughed indulgently. “I wanted to tell you many times, Trixie, but I didn’t feel free to do so till the chief said I could reveal who we are. You must trust us now,” she added hurriedly, “and go with us. We must hurry. We’re pretty sure the men who’ve been lurking around your part of the motel are on their way now to their rendezvous. What they don’t know is that the authorities have it surrounded and that when you girls arrive, you’ll be able to identify at least one of them. You know who. Come with us quickly!”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Honey said, taking Mrs. Aguilera’s hand. “Isn’t it exciting, Trixie? We’re really going to solve this case before we go back to New York. That’s what we wanted most to do. Now, thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Aguilera—”
“Just a minute, Honey. Mrs. Aguilera, I want my brothers and Dan and Jim to go with us wherever we go. They went to the exhibit of spaceships over on the airport grounds. They’ll be home very soon.”
“I’m sorry. There’s not a minute to lose.”
“We have to get going,” Juan Aguilera insisted. “Hurry! The car is over on the side lot. We can get out this way, right here between these motel units.”
“Well, maybe if the girls would rather wait till the boys come...” Mrs. Aguilera began, but her husband silenced her with one word.
“No!”
Mrs. Aguilera’s hesitation, her willingness to wait for the boys, lessened Trixie’s feeling of apprehension; still she persisted. “I’d at least like to call Mr. Brandio’s home to leave word for Mr. Wheeler. I want him to know where Honey and I have gone.”
“He’ll be at the rendezvous. Both he and Mr. Wheeler will be there, you may be sure of that, by the time we get there,” Mrs. Aguilera said to her soothingly.
“I’d like to try to reach him if you don’t mind,” Trixie said determinedly.
“Make it quick, then,” Mr. Aguilera said.
Trixie took off the receiver and waited for the dial tone. Nothing happened. She clicked the
mechanism. There was no sign of life on the wire.
“Hurry!” Mrs. Aguilera warned.
Trixie clicked again, then hung up the receiver. “The line’s dead. I’ll have to go to the office and use the phone there.”
“There isn’t a moment for you to go anywhere,” Mr. Aguilera said.
“Then I’ll leave a note for the boys.”
“Make it snappy!” Mr. Aguilera commanded. “We’ve already wasted too much time. Write it out on this piece of notepaper. I’ll put it under their door while you go with my wife to the car.”
Trixie scribbled a quick account of what had happened. She told the boys that she didn’t know where they were going, but it looked as though the case might be settled very soon, that they’d been surprised to find that Mr. and Mrs. Aguilera were working with the authorities, and that she had tried to telephone to Mr. Brandio’s house, but the phone line from their room was dead. If the boys would call the Brandio number right away, they’d surely find out more information.
Trixie would have written more, but both of the Aguileras were urging her to hurry. Honey, too, seemed impatient and eager to get on the way.
When she had finished writing, Mr. Aguilera held out his hand. Reluctantly Trixie gave him the folded paper. “I could easily put it under the door myself,” she said under her breath.
As the girls went out to the waiting car, Trixie could not get rid of a lingering feeling that something was very wrong. Why hadn’t the authorities at least hinted that these people were in their confidence? Why did she have this feeling of actual dislike for Mrs. Aguilera? Honey, however, seemed to accept the new development as something legitimate, and Honey was pretty good at analyzing people.
Both girls sat in the back of a big black Cadillac, one on either side of Mrs. Aguilera, while Mr. Aguilera stepped hard on the accelerator. Then he backed and turned, with all wheels whining as they spun on the gravel.
“Where are we going?” Trixie asked. “We’re heading north, aren’t we?” She peered into the darkness, looking for some familiar road sign.
“I really don’t know,” Mrs. Aguilera said serenely. “I don’t bother about such details when my husband is doing the driving. I’m one of those silly women who know absolutely nothing about automobiles. You aren’t old enough to drive, are you, Trixie?”
“No, I’m not, but my father lets me drive up and down our driveway. I can handle a car. I know how to start and stop and back up and....” She leaned over to try to see the speedometer. “I know we’re going awfully fast now. Do we have to go over the speed limit?”
Mr. Aguilera didn’t answer. He growled something unintelligible.
“He never talks to anyone when he’s driving,” his wife explained.
“He doesn’t talk much any other time, does he?” Honey asked, laughing. “I guess he keeps his mind on his business. Have you been in detective work very long?”
“Years,” Mrs. Aguilera answered, “in one form or another. Trixie seems to be a natural-born detective herself.”
Oh, don't let Honey tell her we are detectives, Trixie prayed, and her prayer was answered. Her friend started to speak, then smothered her voice with a cough. She was silent after that.
The speeding car passed everyone on the road, weaving in and out of traffic skillfully and surely as it sped northward in the dark night.
Trixie was almost sure they were on the same road their car had followed on their return from Hannibal. That seemed a million light-years ago. Oh, if the boys were only with them now!
As the car passed another familiar place along the highway, Trixie grew more and more apprehensive. Ahead of them, a junction of two highways loomed. Red and blue neon lights indicated a filling station or, perhaps, a roadside cafe.
“Mr. Aguilera,” Trixie said purposefully, “please stop the car at this junction ahead. I want to try and telephone back to the motel to tell the boys where we are.”
“No.”
“He means he hasn’t time now,” Mrs. Aguilera explained.
“I just have to telephone to them,” Trixie insisted, “because we have promised one another always to report our whereabouts..I must telephone,” she repeated, her hand on the door. “It’s right ahead now. You have to stop at the junction, anyway. I’ll rush the call through. It won’t take five minutes.”
“No.” Mr. Aguilera hesitated only a second at the stop sign, then put his foot down hard again on the accelerator.
“Why, Trixie,” Mrs. Aguilera said in a soft voice, “I do believe you may still be distrustful. Surely that note from Chief Otway should have convinced you that we are friends—”
“Chief Otway?” Trixie repeated, terror shaking her voice. “The name on the note was Ogilvie. I remember it well.”
“Of course!” Mrs. Aguilera trilled. “There was an officer called Otway. How silly of me. Ogilvie is the chief’s name. James N. Ogilvie.”
“The note said ‘Leighton N. Ogilvie,’ ” Trixie said in a weak voice. “Did you hear that, Honey? ‘Leighton N. Ogilvie’—not ‘Otway’ and not ‘James N. Ogilvie.’ Did you hear that, Honey? Did you?”
“Yes, I did,” Honey answered. “I heard it. It would be a hard name to remember, Mrs. Aguilera.”
“Shut your traps, the whole bunch of you!” Mr. Aguilera called savagely. “That means you, Elena, too. Of all the dimwits I’ve ever known, you’re number one on the list... can’t even remember your own name. Hold tight, dear young ladies, for I’m slowing down to turn!” He whirled the steering wheel to the right and reeled into a dirt road.
Trixie shaded her eyes and looked into the darkness. She was sure she saw the arm of a sign and sickeningly sure that it said “St. Peter.” They were back on the road that led to that old house! The Aguileras were going to stop there and maybe kill both her and Honey. Something terrible was bound to happen. Involuntarily she reached across Mrs. Aguilera’s lap to find Honey’s comforting hand.
On the car went. Not quite so fast now, for the dirt road was narrow and the shoulders were high. A dense wood closed in on each side. The bulk of the old house lay ahead in the darkness.
“Why are you taking us here?” Trixie asked, scarcely able to form the words, for cold terror gripped her. Her mind went back to the map of the river, the map that was among the papers Lontard left in the room at the motel. They're following that same route, Trixie thought. They’re in cahoots with Lontard! That’s certain!
“Where are we?” she asked again defiantly, her voice stronger. “Why are you taking us here?”
A low growl answered her from the front seat, and Mr. Aguilera glanced back.
“Because this is the road that leads to the rendezvous we have with the authorities,” Mrs. Aguilera answered slowly. “If you will be patient, you will find that out in a very short time now. We are nearing our destination. Try to trust me, Trixie.”
“That awful old house!” Trixie cried. “We’re near it. We’re going to stop there, Honey. We’re going to stop there, and I just know something awful is going to happen to us.”
“We’re not stopping there!” Honey sang out confidently. “We’ve passed it. Mrs. Aguilera would never let anything bad happen to us.”
It was true that they had passed the house. They were back of it now, on a bumpy trail overhung with branches. The Cadillac nosed its bulk slowly through the thickening vines and came to a stop.
“Get out!” Mr. Aguilera ordered.
“We must walk from here,” his wife said soothingly. “It’s not a very good path, so watch where you’re going. We’re not far from where the authorities and the others are waiting. I’m sorry you’re going to get your feet wet.”
“We don’t mind that,” Honey said.
It’s only a lark for her, Trixie thought resignedly. Heaven only knows what’s waiting for us. I’m glad Honey isn’t suspicious. What good would it do us if she were?
Mrs. Aguilera gave Honey’s arm a squeeze. “Don’t be afraid. Very soon now you will see your frien
ds. Just think, you’ll be in on the solution of a very big mystery!”
In spite of herself, Trixie’s heart quickened. There was a bare chance... but no! The old distrust returned with increased intensity.
No one had a flashlight but Mr. Aguilera. They followed his steps closely, thrusting aside vines and bushes, stumbling, almost falling, as they went blindly along.
From the murky distance ahead of them, there were the sounds of late birds settling for the night.
Trees rustled, and bare branches over their heads rubbed their ghostly arms together. Silence, silence— except for the sound of their own groping feet as twigs crackled and broke beneath them.
There was a peculiar smell in the night air, a pungent smell of rotting vegetation and deadwood. It was a familiar smell— Willows!
“We’re near the river, aren’t we?” Trixie asked. “Is that where everyone is going to meet us? Are we really going to meet Mr. Wheeler and the rest of them?”
“Of course we are, Trixie,” Honey assured her. “This is scary, though, isn’t it? It’s so dark. I hope we’ll get there soon.”
Mr. Aguilera strode ahead, his big feet sloshing loudly in the increasingly marshy ground. He flashed his light from side to side and down at the ground in front of him. “Watch out for snakes!” he called.
Honey cried out in terror. “I’m deathly afraid of snakes!” She stopped, unable to move another foot.
“Now you’ve done it,” Mrs. Aguilera called to her husband. “You’ve scared Honey so, she can’t even move. We’ll have to carry her.”
“Carry her?” Mr. Aguilera repeated, laughing. “I can just see myself carrying one of those brats. Give her a good hard kick. That’ll boot her ahead, all right.”
“He... didn’t... mean... that... did... he?”
Honey asked, trembling all over.
“Of course he didn’t. He’s just anxious to get to where we’re going. There aren’t any snakes here, anyway, and you don’t need to be afraid. Here, take my hand.” Mrs. Aguilera grasped Honey’s arm and drew her forward, forcing her to lift her feet and follow along. i
The Mystery on the Mississippi Page 12
