Chapter 2:

Mysteries Abound

"A mystery!" Trixie cried, bouncing off of the sofa. "Really?" Her round blue eyes grew wide with intrigue.

Honey, too, could not believe her ears. Secretly, she crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping it was true. But Brian and Mart were less than enthusiastic. They clutched their heads and moaned, "Here we go again!"

Jim just chuckled. "Don't sweat it, guys. It's nothing but a bunch of hearsay, really. I probably shouldn't have brought it up."

"Then, why did you?" Mart muttered under his breath as Trixie and Honey pleaded with Jim to tell them more.

It took some coaxing, but Jim finally agreed to relate the story as best as he could.

"I guess it was about thirty-odd years ago, now," he said, unsure of the actual date. "Jonesy's father, who owned the farm at the time, was accused of breaking into a local hobby shop and emptying the safe. In the safe, along with the daily receipts and some of the more valuable coins, was reported to be a rare postage stamp. To make a long story short, Samuel Jones was arrested, and a search was made of the house and grounds. When nothing was found, he was released. A short time later, most of the stolen coins turned up in a local pawn shop, but the stamp was never recovered. Rumor has it, Jonesy's father had difficulty unloading it, and it's still hidden somewhere on the farm."

Trixie and Honey had listened intently, and when he finished, Honey said, "You sound skeptical?"

"I am," Jim replied. "If Mr. Jones were smart enough to get away with stealing the stamp, he'd be smart enough to get rid of it. You have to understand, when Mother married Jonesy, we knew very little about his family or his past. So when one of the guys at school told me about the burglary, I thought he was probably feeding me a line, but I confronted Jonesy anyway. He didn't deny his father was a crook. But he didn't confirm it either. And I have to admit that I did look for the stamp, but ended up with a whipping when Jonesy caught me going through an old trunk in the attic."

Jim reached back to rub a sudden phantom pain. "That was the end of that", he concluded firmly.

Only Trixie was not easily discouraged. After a whispered conference with Honey, she asked Jim if he minded if they searched the farm for the stamp, anyway.

"Be my guest," Jim replied, "but I think you'll be wasting your time."

"Don't be so sure of that," Trixie mused aloud, "rumors are usually grounded in fact."

"It could be," Brian said doubtfully, "but keep in mind, Trixie, if you go, you are going to work and not to play detective."

Honey tried to defend her partner. "Trixie always works just as hard as the rest of us," she said. "Even when she's on a case."

When Mart snorted, Brian decided it was time to drop the subject.

"Will Miss Trask be accompanying us as our chaperone?" he asked Jim.

"I haven't had a chance to ask her yet," his friend revealed. "I suppose I should do that now. She might have other plans for the week. May I use your phone?"

Miss Trask was the dedicated, middle-aged woman, who was in charge of the staff at Manor House, the Wheeler's home. It was her job to see that things ran smoothly and efficiently. Originally Honey's governess, the spirited woman had become accustomed to traveling with the young people, often volunteering to take them on their outings.

When Jim returned from using the telephone, he was whistling a merry tune. "Miss Trask said 'yes,'" he told the Bob-Whites.

Trixie was relieved. Miss Trask rarely interfered with the B.W.G.'s fun. Even more importantly, she did little to hamper the girls sleuthing. And Trixie planned to do some sleuthing, despite what the boys had said.

"Is the farm very far from here?" she asked, hoping it would be a short trip. Trixie knew the less time the teens spent in the car, the more time she'd have to hunt for the missing stamp.

"With traffic, I'd say it'll take about three hours to get there," Jim answered, calculating the distance in his head. "It's not far from Albany. But the closest small town is actually called Cloverton. Is it OK if we take the B.W.G. station wagon?"

The B.W.G. station wagon was a used midnight blue sedan, which had been a gift to the group from Mr. Wheeler. Each teenager owned one-seventh of the car, and they worked hard to earn the treasury money, which paid for its gas and insurance. Even though Mr. Wheeler would have gladly covered all of their expenses, even Honey and Jim were expected to earn their share just as the Beldens and the others were– often taking on the tasks of mowing the grass, tending to the gardens, and mending. It was the first rule of the club, and Jim was very strict about it.

When the Bob-Whites nodded their approval, Jim exclaimed, "Great! So what do you think, gang? Does the future founder of the 'James Winthrop Frayne Year 'Round Camp for Boys' receive the charitable help of the Bob-Whites of the Glen?"

"Oh, Jim, you know you can count on me," Honey piped up immediately.

"And me too, old buddy," Brian added. "As your future doctor-in-residence, how can I say no?"

"You can say 'no' if Moms and Dad say 'no,'" Trixie reminded him. "But if they say 'yes,' you can count the Beldens in, Jim."

For the past several minutes, Mart had been unusually quiet. "Not this Belden," he announced disappointedly. "Diana and I are obligated to escort Bobby and the twins to the carnival in White Plains on Tuesday. They've been eagerly anticipating it for weeks. I can't renege now. They'd be mortified."

Aside from his plans to someday own his own farm, Mart also intended to devote his free time to teaching the boys at Jim's school about agriculture. It would be his way of helping to make this noble dream come true.

"Sorry, Jim," he said sincerely. "I really wish I was able to partake."

But as Jim nodded that he understood, Mart added on a more cheery note, "At least Di and I will only have five little imps under our charge. You'll have one big Beatrix Belden."

Oh, how Trixie hated to be called Beatrix! She was trying to think of a snappy comeback when the telephone rang. "I'll get it," she called, racing for the receiver in the kitchen.

Returning to the living room a few minutes later, she announced, "That was Moms. She called to remind me that the steaks will need time to marinate before the BBQ tonight."

"Steaks!" Jim cried, his mouth-watering. "On the Bob-White's budget? I figured we only had enough money in the coffer for a pack or two of hot dogs."

Honey smiled. "Mrs. Lynch brought them down last night. She was cleaning out the freezer and said we'd be doing her a favor by taking them off her hands. She has Mr. Lynch on a very strict diet. He's not allowed to eat any red meat."

"Poor fellow," Brian laughed. "I still believe the healthiest diet is a well-balanced diet. Did you happen to ask Moms if we could go to the farm with Jim next week, Trix?"

Trixie sat down on an arm of the couch. "I sure did," she replied.

"Well, what did she say?" Jim pressed anxiously.

"She said she'd have to talk it over with Dad, but she's pretty sure he won't have any objections as long as Mart'll agree to help out with a few of our chores while we are gone?"

Trixie cast a pleading look in her blonde haired brother's direction. They often squabbled, but underneath they were about as close as a brother and sister could be. There was very little they wouldn't do for one another. Mart liked to give Trixie a hard time, but it was merely his odd way of showing his brotherly affection.

"I suppose I could be persuaded if you and Brian consent to be my slaves upon your return," he said.

Trixie threw her arms around Mart's neck, accepting his terms if it meant she could go on the trip. "It's a deal! Right, Brian?"

Brian was a bit more cautious. He knew Mart would make their lives miserable after they got back. "I guess so," he hesitated. "Did Moms have anything else to say?"

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Trixie exclaimed. "She thinks Daddy will let us use the family station wagon, too. She thought we might need more room if Jim plans to bring things back from the farm."

Honey grabbed Jim's freckled arm. "Did you hear that?" she asked excitedly.

The Belden's generosity dazzled Jim. "That would be terrific," he stammered, "but I can't possibly accept. I know Mrs. Belden just got a new car, but still, that would only leave the family with one."

"They'll also have the Jalopy," Brian reminded him.

The idea of her father dressed in a business suit driving to work in Brian's rattle-trap car made Trixie chuckle. "That makes the offer all the more generous," she joked. "Do you think the Jalopy will behave herself, Brain?"

Brian was proud of his old car, and he became defensive whenever the teenagers kidded him about it. "She'll behave," he assured his sister. "I gave her a tune-up last week, and she is purring like a kitten."

Mart scoffed. "She sounded more like an old cat choking on a hairball this morning," he said, bringing peals of laughter from everyone but Brian. "But in all seriousness, Jim, if Moms or Dad wish to disgrace themselves by driving that decaying heap of Brian's, I say let them."

"When you put it like that, I guess I'd be a fool to refuse," Jim chuckled.

"Good!" Mart said, getting up and stretching. "That concludes this trip business. Now, if you'll kindly adjourn this meeting for lunch, my stomach will be eternally grateful."

"Don't you mean internally grateful?" Jim joked, tossing the throw pillow at Mart.

The Bob-Whites winced at the pun and headed for the kitchen laughing.

After a quick raid on the refrigerator, the boys departed, leaving the girls to clean up the mess. Putting a saran-wrapped plate of tomatoes back into the fridge, Trixie mused," "Gleeps Honey, I can't wait until Monday. Imagine a new mystery! I wish we were leaving today."

"Patience has never been one of your stronger points," Honey chuckled as she finished clearing the table. "Although I must admit I'm excited too, Trixie. At least the B.B.Q. should help keep our minds off the trip this afternoon."

Filling the sink with hot soapy water, Trixie disagreed. "Not even the barbeque is going to keep my mind off that stamp," she admitted with a sigh. " I sure wonder where it's hidden?"

Honey pulled back the curtains on the kitchen door and peered out. "Well, I wonder where the boys have gone off to?" she said. "I don't see them anywhere."

Making quick work of the dishes, Trixie joined her friend at the window. "I don't know," she remarked, "but they've certainly been busy. The yard looks beautiful."

And the yard did look nice. The boys had cleaned the picnic table and positioned it carefully on the back patio. To its right, they'd placed the barbecue grill. It too, Trixie noticed, looked spic-n-span. To the left of the picnic table, under a string of gaily colored patio lights, the Belden's redwood lawn furniture and folding camp chairs were arranged in a semicircle.

Trixie reflected that it indeed looked inviting in the warm afternoon sun, especially the chaise lounge with its bright floral cushions. Turning to Honey, she said, "It's a shame to be inside on the nicest day we've had this year. Let's go out and enjoy the sun."

"Let's!" Honey replied. "We can take the memo pad by the phone and make a list of supplies for the trip."

"That's a great idea," Trixie said, grabbing a pen. "Dibs on the chaise lounge."

Outdoors, Honey listed off, "cleaning fluid, disinfectant, and scouring powder," as Trixie jotted them down.

"We'll also need some sort of lighting," Trixie noted. "The house has been vacant a year now, so I'm pretty sure we won't have electricity."

Something Trixie said gave Honey goosebumps. Brushing the feeling aside, she asked, "Shall we add candles and flashlights to the list?"

"I already have," Trixie replied, "and Brian's old scout lantern too."

"It never occurred to me we'd be without electricity," Honey mused, gnawing on the tip of her thumbnail. "Now that I think about it, we'll be without running water and heat, as well."

Trixie viewed the situation optimistically. "It won't be bad. It'll be like camping out. The farm is sure to have a well for water, and a fireplace if the weather changes and we need heat."

The girls worked steadily for fifteen minutes concocting a sensible list. Most of the items could simply be rounded up and packed, but the food, and some of the cleaning products, would have to be purchased. So Trixie and Honey decided that they'd pick up what they could at Mr. Lytel's store the next morning when they rode in for the Sunday papers.

Although the prices would be higher than the larger stores in town, the Bob-Whites gave Mr. Lytel whatever business they could. It was their way of supporting the small country store to preserve its portion of Sleepyside's heritage.

With the list completed, the girls sat back, soaking in the quiet afternoon.

"I'm sure glad the boys took Bobby with them," Trixie said, enjoying her break from babysitting. "It's much nicer when I'm not worrying what he's going to get into next."

"Bobby can be a handful," Honey agreed. "But do you know who I'm glad we don't have to worry about, Trixie? Jonesy." Honey clenched her teeth. "I know it's wrong of me, but I'm relieved he's dead."

Trixie knew that only a super low-life like Jonesy could make kindhearted Honey feel that way. Usually, her friend would be the first person to forgive someone of their wrongdoings. But Jim's stepfather had hurt too many people Honey cared about for her to have any sympathy for him.

"I think we'll all sleep more soundly now that he's gone," Trixie commented quietly.

Honey scooted her chair closer to Trixie's. "Did you know, the way our court system is set up, Jonesy might have been out on parole in another couple of years?"

"You're joking?" Trixie said with astonishment.

Honey shook her head. "That's what Jim told me."

What Trixie's friend said next, startled her enough to drop her ballpoint pen.

"You may think I've lost my mind, Trixie, but I take back what I just said. I'm still worried. Despite the fact he's dead, I have this creepy feeling that Jonesy isn't through causing problems for Jim."

Trixie recovered the fallen pen. "If you're crazy, I'm crazy too. I've had that same feeling."

"What do you think is going to happen?" Honey asked, puzzled.

Trixie's eyes grew dark. "I'm not sure," she admitted, "but I've got a hunch that truck farm spells trouble."

Honey agreed, and both girls fell silent.

The next thing Trixie knew, someone was shaking her shoulder. Having had little sleep the night before, she'd fallen asleep under the warm midday sun.

"Wake up Sleeping Beauty. This Prince Charming isn't about to risk his reputation by awakening you with a kiss."

Trixie recognized the voice. It belonged to Dan Mangan. "You've heard about this morning, haven't you?" she giggled.

Dan winked and flashed a bright smile. Lean and darkly attractive, he was indeed a prince charming. Or rather a knight in shining armor, Trixie corrected herself. Dan aspired to be a police officer.

"A little bird, filled me in on all the juicy details," he disclosed, chuckling.

Trixie looked around for Mart. "Where is the old stool pigeon, anyway?" she yawned.

"We were hoping you could tell us," Honey sighed, dropping into an empty chair. "I decided we could use an extra grill tonight, so I sent Mart up to Manor House get one of ours. That was over an hour ago. Dan's been helping me finish things up in the kitchen, and I just assumed Mart was back."

Alarmed, Trixie glanced at her watch. "You shouldn't have let me sleep so long!" she exclaimed, ashamed for dozing away the afternoon while her friends readied for the party. Pulling on her sneakers, she announced, "I'll go up and see what's keeping Mart. He probably just stopped in to gobble down a piece of Cook's chocolate cake."

Why then, she thought silently, did her instincts tell her she'd better check it out?

Dan pulled Honey to her feet. "We'll go with you," he said.

The trio of young people raced off up the hill toward Manor House. Three-fourths of the way, Trixie stopped dead in her tracks. There, by the side of the road in the ditch, lay a B.B.Q. grill. It was badly battered, as if it had met with some terrible accident. Horrified, Trixie tried to stifle the scream that rose in her throat but found that she couldn't.