Trixie hadn’t prepared herself for any reaction at all, much less for this. She stared at her redfaced brother, realizing that this was the angriest she’d ever seen him.
”Brian, I’m sorry, but don’t you see?” Trixie cried. ”One of the things on Moms’s list of cyanide sources was apple seeds. This salad is loaded with seeds! And Loyola’s been feeding it to you ever since—ever since you started this chemistry project at the beginning of the semester. And Brian—she hasn’t been eating any of it herself!”
Brian and Honey, shocked beyond words, gaped at Loyola. The black girl, in turn, stopped crying and looked directly into Trixie’s eyes.
”I had no idea the seeds were poisonous,” she said simply.
Too many facts were racing through Trixie’s brain for her to take in what Loyola said at first. ”Moms said that you had been getting the poison in very small doses for an extended period of time, Brian. You were going to die when it reached the toxic level!”
”Trixie, didn’t you hear what Loyola just said?” Honey asked.
”And then when I told Loyola about your being taken to the hospital,” Trixie rushed on, ”she started to say something about how you had been her only competition—as if you were already dead! She always acted as if the project were much more important than your health. She never even noticed that anything was wrong with you! I know, because I asked her. Why, even Di and everyone else was worried sick—”
”That’s enough,” Brian ordered. ”You have turned into a stark, raving—”
”No, wait, Brian,” said Loyola. She took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes a minute, and put the glasses back on. ”I really didn’t know that about apple seeds,” she told Trixie. ”You’ve got to believe that. And I don’t eat this salad because I really don’t like it. You’ve got to believe that, too.”
”What about your grandfather’s health?” Brian asked. ”You said he’s been eating it.”
”And us,” Honey said, alarmed. ”We all just ate it.”
”I make this for my grandfather only a few times a year,” said Loyola. ”Apparently, that must not be often enough to let the cyanide build up, because he’s the healthiest eighty-year-old you’ll ever see. And I don’t imagine that eating it this once is going to do the three of you any harm, as long as you’re not eating it on a regular basis.” She shook her head in disbelief. ”I guess I need to do more reading on natural foods—I thought using whole apples was a healthy thing to do. Brian, I—I just don’t know what to say.”
”You don’t have to say anything,” Brian assured her quietly. ”At least now we know what was making me sick.”
”Well, there is something else I need to say,” Loyola said, turning to Trixie, who, by this time, was starting to feel horribly embarrassed. ”Trixie, I can kind of see how you reached your conclusion. I’m not anywhere near fanatic enough to start killing off my competition, but you’re not the first person who’s told me I’m too intense about getting good grades.”
Trixie mumbled something unintelligible.
”I like to do well,” Loyola went on. ”I want to have a worthwhile career as a marine biologist. But sometimes I’m so eager to reach my personal goal that I’m insensitive to others. When you asked me what I thought was bothering your brother, Trixie, I was, well, puzzled. I realize now that I should have been more alert to his symptoms, but at the time I figured that his sister should know a lot more about Brian than his lab partner.”
”I know, that was silly of me,” said Trixie.
”Not really, when you consider how much I’d seen of him lately. I should have been more thoughtful then, and also when you told me about his collapse. I was just concentrating too hard on our project. And that remark about Brian’s being my only competition—that was inexcusably thoughtless.”
Trixie cleared her throat. ”No, I’m the one who’s thoughtless. I have a career in mind, too—as a detective.” Normally, Trixie was reluctant to reveal her goal to new people, but she knew she owed Loyola the explanation. ”Sometimes that makes me insensitive, too, like when I jump to conclusions too fast. Obviously—” she laughed shakily—”I should change my goal to being the world’s worst detective!” She reached out and covered Loyola’s hand with her own.
Loyola smiled warmly back at her. ”I think probably all four of us have a lot to learn before we reach our goals,” she said. ”But that doesn’t mean we’re hopeless, does it?”
”Certainly not,” Honey said, then hesitated. ”I hate to break this up, but, Trixie, didn’t you say your mom was super scared that something in your kitchen was poisoning Brian? Shouldn’t we get back and tell her what we found out?”
”Jeepers, you’re right,” Trixie said. ”I suspect you wouldn’t mind getting into some dry clothes, either, Honey. Oh, and poor Brian! Come on, everyone!”
The young people soon had everything packed up and loaded into Brian’s car.
As she had done on the previous Sunday, Trixie fell behind the others on the path so she could take in a final river panorama. This time she knew what she was looking for—a sign of that shark. A lone gull flew overhead, squawking crazily... like me, thought Trixie. Out on the water, there was nothing unusual. She could see The Kruller II, no longer attached to the Quarter Moon. Of course, she couldn’t be certain, but it seemed as though the houseboat was in the same general area in which she had seen the fin.
Trixie grinned to herself, thinking of Bunker’s ”little lady” routine and hoping Mart never got wind of it. Then she hopped up the path to join the others in the car.
When the group got back to Crabapple Farm, Mr. and Mrs. Belden were extremely relieved to hear their news.
”I was just about to tell the doctors about all the canning I’ve been doing,” Helen Belden said, ”in case there was something I’ve been doing wrong. And I’d just finished the canning for this year, too. I was dreading the thought of all that going to waste!”
Brian hugged his mother. ”Now it can just go to waist,” he said. ”Get it?”
”I’m glad to see your sense of humor hasn’t changed a whit,” Mr. Belden said.
”He thinks he’s a wit, and he’s half right,” quipped Mart.
Mrs. Belden turned to Loyola. ”You must feel just terrible—would you be able to stay for Sunday dinner with us again?”
”I’d love to,” Loyola said, ”but I’m supposed to meet my friend Thea at a restaurant in town for dinner. We don’t get to see each other very often anymore, and—”
”Why don’t you ask Thea to come here?” Trixie urged.
”What a nice idea,” Mrs. Belden agreed. ”She’s certainly welcome to come.”
It was soon arranged that both Loyola and Thea, as well as Honey, would be having dinner at the Beldens’. Trixie made an extra effort to help with the preparations for the roast beef dinner. She felt guilty over the fact that curiosity, not kindness, had been her main motive in suggesting that Thea come for dinner. She was hoping for the opportunity to question Thea about the differences between her shark story and Bunker’s.
Not until the entire group was seated around the food-laden Belden table did Trixie remember her promise. She wasn’t supposed to talk about sharks in front of Bobby. Trixie watched her angel-faced little brother for a moment and knew she’d keep her promise.
It’s not worth upsetting Bobby just so I can pick up new information for my own personal mystery-solving, she decided silently. I guess I learned this afternoon that consideration for others is sometimes just as important as solving mysteries!
It was evident, as the meal progressed, that had Trixie brought up the topic, Thea probably would have found some way to close the discussion. She was as polite as possible and quite charming, but also extremely quiet. It was apparent that most of the Beldens felt somewhat awed at the idea of having a writer as guest at their dinner table. Thea made no attempt to set people at ease and spoke only when spoken to.
Thinking of the contrast between this demure woman
and the animated champion of children’s reading she had heard the previous week, Trixie started to frown. Then she tried to be understanding. Not everyone had the ability to make friends with strangers as easily as Trixie herself did.
What concerned Trixie more was the fact that Loyola also was unusually quiet.
She seized the chance, when Loyola got up to help clear the table, to go to the girl’s side. ”Are you okay?” she whispered. ”You’ve hardly said a word—”
Loyola giggled, embarrassed. ”Oh, Trixie, I’ll never learn! I’m thinking about a paper I have to write for history tomorrow!”
”And I thought I was bad,” Trixie said. ”My detective—or defective, I should say—brain has been scheming all evening, too!”
The two girls laughed softly.
After dinner, Mr. Belden suggested a round of gin rummy in the living room.
”Too many people,” Mrs. Belden said. ”What about poker?”
Mart and Brian set up a card table and got out the poker chips, and a fast and furious game was soon underway. Despite the fact that only poker chips were at stake, the adults and teen-agers all threw themselves enthusiastically into the game.
Bobby got into his pajamas and sat on a couch nearby, amusing himself and no one else with his spoonerism attempts: ”Gummy gum? No... gummy bum. No! Rimmy gum... he-he-he!” Several peals of laughter later, Mrs. Belden told him, ”Son, I think it’s more than past your bedtime.”
Bobby pushed out his lower lip. ”Story,” he demanded.
”You want a bedtime story?” Loyola asked. ”You’re in luck tonight, Bobby! I know some really spooky bedtime stories.”
Bobby looked entranced, but then he shook his head. ”No, just regular stories,” he explained. ”Thea—she’s a story writer. I bet she tells good stories.”
”Well, Thea, it looks like you’ve been nominated official storyteller,” Mr. Belden said heartily. ”Do you mind?”
To Trixie, Thea couldn’t have looked less enthusiastic, but she said gamely, ”No, not at all. I’m not sure how satisfactory I’ll be, but— Bobby, shall we get you into bed first?”
Bobby held out his hand, Thea slipped it into hers, and the two were off to his room.
”Poor Thea,” said Brian as Mart began dealing out another hand. ”I wonder how many stories she’ll have to listen to before Bobby lets her start one!”
”I hope we weren’t putting her on the spot,” Mrs. Belden worried.
”She’ll survive, I’m sure,” said Loyola. ”Thea told me once that children make her a little uncomfortable. But I’m sure she’ll love Bobby once she gets to know him. He’s cute, and so smart, too.”
”Smart like a fox,” grumbled Trixie, who had baby-sat Bobby often enough to know him very well indeed. ”Gleeps, Mart, I think you just cheated!”
”Beatrix, you may have had a full house the last game, but methinks it’s empty now!” said Mart, tapping his forehead meaningfully. ”You’re not playing with a full deck. I don’t know which
is the more serious symptom—populating our river with sea serpents or accusing me of cheating!”
”You just dealt Brian and Dad one too many cards,” Trixie insisted. ”What gives—are the males in this family in cahoots or something?”
”How could they be, with such a quidnunc sister around?” asked Mart, rolling his eyes.
”What’s quidmonk or whatever got to do with it? I—”
”Quidnunc means busybody,” said Mart, ”which, my dear samus shibling, is exactly what you are!”
”Now, children, it’s just a game,” Mrs. Belden said. ”Mart, why don’t you just start your deal over again?”
”To Trixie it’s no trifling diversion—it’s more like the Olympics,” said Mart. ”If I deal over again, my dear sister will probably have me excommunicated!”
”I think the word you want is expatriated, ” his father said.
”Uh-uh,” Trixie said suddenly. ”I seem to remember a rule that says if a dealer makes a mistake like that, he loses the deal to the next person—that is, me!”
Mart began a pompous retort, but Trixie cut him off. She was tired of being insulted. ”And I can prove it,” she said triumphantly. ”I just happen to have the latest edition of Hoyle’s Official Rules of Card Games. And I’m going to go right up to my room and get it!”
Before anyone could object, she pushed back her chair and raced up the stairs. She flipped on a light in her room and took the book out of her bookcase. A quick check told her she was right. Exultant, she went out into the hallway again.
The door to Bobby’s room, just across the hall from Trixie’s, was slightly ajar. Trixie could hear Thea’s flat, droning voice. She didn’t sound like she was enjoying her new role.
”... and then the shark found the cove where the people were swimming,” Thea was saying.
Trixie clenched her fists. Didn’t Thea know —oh, how could she know that sharks gave Bobby nightmares? Trixie considered barging in to put an end to it, but decided against it. I’ve been called a busybody once too often today, she thought.
”And then what happened?” she heard Bobby ask.
”And then... the shark opened its mouth and ate up all the people with its sharp teeth!” was Thea’s reply.
More Laughter at Trixie’s Expense • 11
AT BREAKFAST the following morning, a Monday, Bobby was full of talk about sharks. Far from being frightened by Thea’s fantasy, he had relished its every gory detail.
Nevertheless, Mrs. Belden was horrified. ”Oh, Trixie, see what you’ve started?” she sighed.
”Me!” Trixie exclaimed indignantly. ”Why, Thea—”
”She’s a pretty good storyteller,” Bobby interrupted. ”But not as good as you, Trixie.”
”Oh? Why not?” Trixie asked.
Bobby shrugged. ”She didn’t put her arm around me the way you do. That’s what makes a story good, you know.”
Trixie smiled at him, then turned to her mother. ”It’s not my fault that Thea happened to zero in on sharks last night. I’ll admit, it certainly is a bizarre coincidence.”
”Not necessarily,” Brian said. ”Loyola told me that Thea’s always had some sort of love affair with sharks.”
”Love at first bite,” quipped Mart, taking in a mouthful of granola.
”Not that kind of affair,” Brian said. ”Just collecting books on them—stuff like that.”
”Trixie,” Bobby clamored, ”will you tell me another shark story? Are there really sharks in the river? Stark shory, stark shory,” he repeated to himself, delighted.
Before Trixie could answer, Mr. Belden said firmly, ”I think we’ve had enough about sharks at the breakfast table, Bobby. And no, there are no sharks in the Hudson, for once and for all. Trixie was only teasing—weren’t you, Trixie?” Without giving her a chance to disagree, he went right on. ”As a matter of fact, our Hudson contains things a lot more interesting than sharks. Right, Trix?”
”Huh? Oh, sure, like... uh... like—”
”Like valuable fish, pirate gold,” her father supplied. ”And sunken treasure from old shipwrecks. New shipwrecks, too, and underwater car wrecks—”
”Who ever heard of an underwater car?” Bobby piped up. ”Or a—a wunderwater tar!”
”Er, well, I think I’m going to be late for work.
Bye, gang.” Peter Belden kissed his wife, grabbed his coat, and was out the door before Bobby could ask any more bright questions.
Trixie tousled Bobby’s curls. ”I think what Dad meant was cars that fall into the Hudson somehow and sink to the bottom.”
”Yecch,” said Bobby with a delicate shiver. ”That sounds horrible! What if there were people in those cars?”
”They might be able to escape,” Brian reassured him.
”Doesn’t it usually take a car about four to eight minutes to sink?” Mart asked.
Brian nodded. ”Till then, you can roll down a window and climb out. If that doesn’t work, don’t try to g
et out the window while the water is rushing in. Wait until the car is submerged, so that the pressure is equalized inside and outside the car. Then you can escape by rolling down a window or opening the door—”
”But then the sharks will get you,” Bobby yelped. ”I hope that never happens to me!”
Mrs. Belden poured herself a second cup of coffee and pleaded, ”Couldn’t we try to stay off scary subjects for a while?”
”Sorry, Moms,” Trixie said guiltily.
Brian pointed an accusing finger at Trixie. ”That reminds me, you’re the one who needs a few lessons in lifesaving techniques.”
”What did I do now?” groaned Trixie.
”It’s what you didn’t do. You failed to come to our aid yesterday when Honey and I were rescuing Ken and Carl. It’s occurred to me that you should take a water safety course, Trix. That might give you the confidence you need.”
Trixie gulped down the last of her cranberry juice. ”Jeepers, where would I find time for that?” she complained. ”I barely have enough time to prepare for my regular classes in school!”
”We’ve heard the rumors,” Mart said knowingly. ”Like the one about how your math teacher is going to start charging admission to let people in to see you perform in class.”
”Where did you hear that?” Trixie gasped.
Her family burst out laughing.
Mart laughed louder than anyone. ”As the Mock Turtle in Alice in Wonderland says, there are four branches of arithmetic—’Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.’ You only know about one—Distraction!”
”Well, that thing you said about ugliness certainly applies to you,” said Trixie with a defiant toss of her curls.
”You missed the boat on that one,” her mother said. ”You and Mart look enough alike to be twins, don’t forget.”
”Don’t remind me,” grumbled Mart. ”Anyway,” Trixie said hastily, ”it’s missing the bus that’s going to happen if we don’t step on it. Come along, birdbrain brothers!”
To her amazement, they obeyed.
After school that afternoon, Trixie got off the bus with Jim and Honey at Manor House. She had seen better days for riding—it was foggy and chilly. But it had been such a long time since she had seen Susie that Trixie felt she would have gone riding even in the rain.
The Hudson River Mystery Page 8
