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Chapter Three: At The Library

The Sleepyside Municipal Library was housed in a large, brick building, just off Main Street. The basement contained a storage room, the administrative offices and what most residents referred to as the children's library. The first floor housed the lobby and the circulation desk as well as reference books and magazines. There was also a technology room with public-access computers and old fashioned equipment like microfiche readers and microfilm projectors. Small study booths and most of the library's fiction and non-fiction collection were on the second floor.

Conversation was frowned on in the library. The eighty-something year-old head librarian believed that silence was golden and even though she was seldom present, her staff continued to strictly enforce the maxim. The Bob Whites often joked that turning pages too loudly would get someone thrown out of the building.

Oddly, the library staff adored Trixie. Her love for mysteries and true crime stories coupled with her adventures had won them over—especially Mr. Crandall. He was the assistant librarian and ran the library. After he had heard about Trixie finding runaway Jim Frayne and unmasking the imposter posing as Diana Lynch's uncle, he had introduced her to her first true crime story—the kidnapping of the Lindberg baby. The two had become fast friends, reading and discussing the mysteries they both loved.

"Hello, Mr. Crandall," Trixie greeted the assistant librarian with a smile as she breezed up to the library circulation desk.

Thin and wiry, the assistant librarian was about five foot, five inches tall. His light blue eyes were a frosty and usually emotionless. It was hard to guess his age because his tanned skin was surprisingly unlined. His hair line was receding but he hid the hair loss by keeping his hair cut in a short buzz. The military-style hair cut gave him an authoritative look which allowed him to enforce library policies. When he heard Trixie's greeting, he looked up with a severe frown on his face. However, as soon as recognized her, his face relaxed into a warm, welcoming smile that few Sleepyside residents had ever seen. He closed the catalog that he was reading, stood up and walked over to the desk counter. "How are you, Trixie? Did you and your brother have a good time visiting your uncle in Idaho?"

Smiling, Trixie answered, "Oh, yes. Bobby and I had a great time with Uncle Andrew."

"Did you catch any poachers?"

"Not this time," she replied. "I was too busy keeping Bobby from harassing the sheep."

Looking at Trixie over the top of his glasses, the librarian raised his brows as he said, "That brother of yours is a handful but I'm sure that you can hold your own with him. After all, you are Sleepyside's most successful detective."

Blushing, Trixie bit her lip and mumbled. "I don't know about that."

"Well, I do," he said with an admiring smile. "Someday I'll be ordering books about local resident and famous detective Beatrix Belden."

"Gosh, I hope not," Trixie said with a mock frown. "At least the Beatrix Belden part."

The bespectacled man smiled indulgently and amended, "How about local resident and famous detective Trixie Belden? Is that better?"

"Much better," she smiled.

"Have you heard that the town is going to fill in the old wishing well?" Mr. Crandall inquired. He continued quietly, his voice melancholy. "When I heard the news, I wondered how you high school students felt about it. It's been a part of the school culture for years. I remember tossing a quarter in the well on the first day of my freshman year."

Her eyes wide with horror, Trixie asked, "Our wishing well? Not the one in town square?"

The Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School had a small, wishing well on the lawn in front of the school. On the first day of school, each freshman tossed a quarter into the fountain and made a wish about their high school experience. Trixie remembered polishing her quarter and wishing that she survive high school math. Honey-even after living in Sleepyside for more than a year-had been concerned that her parents would decide that the local high school would not provide an education appropriate for her. So her wish had been to attend all four years of high school with her friends. And Di's...well, Diana had wished that she would be the Freshman Princess of the Homecoming Queen. With a smile, Trixie realized that all three of their wishes had come true so far.

Since her freshman wish, Trixie had made several more wishes. She had wished for better grades, fun summer breaks and, of course, clues in whatever mystery she and the other Bob Whites were involved in at the time. She knew that her fellow students had used the fountain as much as she had. Last year, she had watched Mart stealthily approach the well and toss in some change before he asked Di to go to his Junior Prom. She had also been with Di and Jane Morgan on the day the cast of Guys and Dolls had been posted. In hopes of getting the female leads, the two girls had dumped the entire contents of their piggy banks into the well. Over the years, senior rings, school pins and other assorted jewelry had also been sacrificed in the hopes that Lady Luck or fate or fortune would grant the supplicant's inner-most desire or wish.

Trixie shook her head, chasing away her thoughts, and asked, "Why would they fill in the wishing well?"

"Apparently, the state safety inspector told Principal Stratton that it posed a safety hazard. He told the Superintendant of Schools and they are going to address the school board tonight."

"I can't believe it," Trixie said, shaking her head in dismay. For a moment, Trixie chewed on her bottom lip and then she wondered, "What will happen to all of our wishes? I threw a silver dollar my Uncle Andrew gave me into the well last week."

Mr. Crandall smiled at the teenager's concern. "Well, I don't think that fate can take back your wish. Especially if it's already been granted."

Wryly, with a whimsical smile, Trixie replied, "I'm not thinking about the ones that have been granted. I'm worried about the hundred or so that I'm still waiting on."

The librarian chuckled softly at Trixie's admission and informed her, "You are a delight, Miss Belden. An absolute delight."

Flushing at the compliment, Trixie inquired, "Are they just going to fill it in? Cover up all of the money and stuff?"

"Who knows what the school board will do? We'll have to wait and see..." Finished with their discussion about the well, Mr. Crandall moved on to another subject, "How are your classes?"

Trixie followed the abrupt change in conversation adeptly. Her expression chagrinned, she told him, "Not bad. I'm struggling with algebra but we both know that is nothing new."

"Ahh," he said in an understanding voice. "I was wondering why we hadn't seen you in a few weeks."

"Oh, that's not why I haven't stopped by. Haven't you heard the news?" she said in a hushed yet excited voice. "I'm working at the police station. Chief Molinson hired me to help organize and catalog the closed case files."

"That's wonderful," he replied, fully aware of Trixie's dream of becoming a detective and starting her own agency. "Your family must be very proud of you."

Trixie nodded. Truthfully, her parents, Mart and Bobby had all seemed excited for her. Brian, on the other hand, had been very unhappy. He-and Jim-had been less than thrilled and had even went as far as to question her parents' decision to let her work the station, suggesting that she was too impulsive and reckless to be around so many mysteries and crimes. Trixie shook off the despondency that the older Bob-Whites reactions still caused and focused on what Mr. Crandall was saying.

"Maybe you'll find a crime to solve."

Shrugging, she responded, "Well, I'm not helping investigate crimes but…" She paused, enthusiasm sparkling in her eyes, "…you never know when another mystery will come along."

"Speaking of mysteries, I've been holding that book you wanted. Why don't you have a seat? I'll pull it and bring it over to you."

"That's okay. I'll get it on the way out." Trixie looked around the library and then, turned back to Mr. Crandall. "I'm meeting Honey Wheeler and Diana Lynch here. Have they arrived yet?"

A look of censure crossed the man's face. His eyes hardened as he answered, "They came in about fifteen minutes ago. After I asked them to quiet down the second time, they went upstairs. I hope they're not disturbing patrons on the second floor."

Trixie smiled wryly. "I'm sure that they're being quiet but if they aren't, I'll take care of it."

"You do that," he said approvingly.

With a nod and a wave, Trixie turned and headed toward the stairs. When she reached the second floor, she saw Diana and Honey, huddled together in a cubicle as they looked at the latest Teen Vogue magazine. Quietly, she crossed to her friends.

The other girls smiled when they saw her. Honey scooted over and allowed Trixie to share her seat.

"Hey, I heard you two have been causing trouble," Trixie said in an admonishing tone of voice.

Honey bit her lip as Diana rolled her eyes and giggled, "Honey was walking too loudly. Mr. Crandall told her that if she didn't quiet down, he'd have to ask her leave."

"You mean talking, don't you?" Trixie asked.

"No," Diana smiled. "I mean walking."

Arching a brow, Trixie asked, "You—Honey Wheeler—were walking too loudly? How do you do that?"

Of the three friends, Honey was the most graceful. All of the dance lessons and deportment classes she had attended at boarding school had given her a poise and refinement that the other two girls could not match.

"He said that I was intentionally letting my sandals click on the floor," she responded, delicately shrugging her shoulders.

"Sleepyside is the only library in the whole world with hardwood floors," Di said loyally. Then, she giggled again. "Mr. Crandall suggested that Honey wear appropriate footwear the next time she comes to the library."

"Appropriate footwear?" Trixie laughed quietly. "He must not be a fan of high fashion."

"I don't think Mr. Crandall is a fan of anything," Honey whispered quietly.

"Except Trixie," Diana chortled, earning her a glare from both of the other girls.

"You're going to get us kicked out, Di," Honey said, her golden eyes wide as she looked around like she was waiting for the library police to burst out from behind one of the bookshelves.

Trixie watched her friends with amusement. "Come on, guys," she laughed softly. "He's really not the bad once you get to know him.

Diana gave an unladylike snort. "Forget it. The only things he likes are true crime stories, mystery books…and you, Trix. You're like a character out of one of his books."

"I'm not like some character out of an old mystery book!" Trixie said indignantly.

"Maybe we should start calling you Nancy," Honey giggled at the horror on her best friend's face.

"That's a great idea, Honey!" Diana agreed enthusiastically. "We can start calling Jim 'Ned'!"

With a groan, Trixie covered her face with her hands. "You guys are awful. Just awful."

"Seriously, Trixie, I think Di's right. Mr. Crandall has read about your exploits in the Sleepyside Times. As far as he's concerned, you're a real life Lucy Radcliffe."

Trixie put her hands down, looked up at her friends and rolled her eyes. "Well, Lucy is better than Nancy Drew! But, come on, I know that I've gotten a lot of press with our mysteries but I've always said that solving them was a group effort made by all of the Bob Whites."

Smiling, Honey said soothingly. "We know, Trixie. You always share the lime light with the rest of us. I also think Mr. Crandall likes you because you share his love of unsolved mysteries. You know, the identity of Zodiac killer, the disappearance of the crew of the Mary Celeste, and the murder of the Black Dahlia."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Di said, shaking her silky, brown hair in confusion, before she added, "What I do know is that Mr. Crandall could be the president of the Trixie Belden fan club!"

Trixie rolled her eyes again and Honey giggled at their friend's pronouncement.

"I think Trixie wants someone else to be the president of her fan club," Honey said slyly.

"Someone like your brother?" Diana suggested in a hushed but wily tone.

Trixie's face turned a brilliant shade of red. Although both of her friends knew about her crush on Jim, Di's words still embarrassed her. Jim had often called her his 'special girl' but he had never done anything more. Secretly, Trixie hoped that he was waiting until she was older so the age difference wouldn't be such a big deal but lately, she had began to wonder if Jim had changed his mind. To add to her worries, since he had returned to school, he seemed distant.

With a frown, Trixie recalled their last telephone conversation. When she had called Jim earlier this week, Brian had answered the telephone. He had seemed reluctant to let her speak with Jim. After Jim had finally come to the phone, he had acted rushed, like he didn't have time to speak with her. His recent emails were also odd. When she sent him messages, he answered but his responses were abrupt and short. As she mulled it over, she realized that Jim hadn't initiated contact with her in several weeks.

Misery and confusion swamped her and she looked away from her friends. Taking a deep breath, she tried to change the subject. "This is the library. We're supposed to quiet."

Unable to see the painful emotions on Trixie's expressive face, Di teased, "Way to change the subject, Belden."

Trixie bit her bottom lip and looked back at Honey and Diana. With a stiff shrug, she said, "It's just that I…I don't know what Jim feels. Lately, when I call or email, he…he's different. Kind of distant."

"He's busy with college. Every time I call him he's talking about having to write a paper or read hundreds of pages," Honey reassured Trixie, putting her arm around her friend's shoulders and hugging her in an expression of comfort.

"Hey, you're Jim's special girl. He's just taking it slow because of the difference in your ages."

"Slow?" Diana hooted but became serious when she saw that Honey's words had not had the desired effect on Trixie. Her blonde-headed friend still looked miserable. "Don't worry, Trix. Honey's right. Jim Frayne adores you."

With a silent sigh, she hoped they were right. If they weren't, there was nothing she could do about it. Not with Jim in the city. Pushing her worry out of her mind, she looked at her friends and asked in a low voice, "Have you heard about the wishing well?"

They both shook their heads, their eyes wide, and as quietly as possible, Trixie told them the news.