Chapter 16:
A Hidden Room
The scene at the house was one of pandemonium.
Trixie could only gasp as she caught sight of the numerous vehicles crowding the yard. There was an ambulance idling in the driveway behind the Belden and Bob-White station wagons. Regan's truck and horse trailer were sitting down on the pad by the barn, and parked next to them was Mr. Handleman's green van. Pulled off into the grass nearby, were three cars from the Sheriff's department. Beside one, a uniformed deputy was talking to Tom and jotting down notes.
Racing up the front steps, the details of an unbelievable story began unfolding before Trixie's rounded blue eyes. Someone had broken in the parlor window, and the main door was now propped wide open so that anyone could come and go. Even more alarming, was the sight of Miss Trask lying on a metal gurney inside, arguing with a pair of EMTs. Regan, understandably worried, was by her side, and appeared to be trying to calm her down, but was having little success.
Stepping over broken glass as she entered, Trixie was struck dumb by the devastating mess surrounding her. The living room, and what she could see beyond, looked as if a tornado had swept through. The boxes the Bob-Whites had stacked neatly along the walls, were now tossed about the area, their contents strewn across the floor. The drawer's on Dan's beloved walnut desk had pulled out, and the rest of the household furnishings were either out of place or overturned. But what stunned the young Miss Belden most, was the scowl of disbelief on Sheriff Baker's face, as he paced back and forth in the midst of it all.
As Jim and Dan hurried to speak with the officer, Brian and Honey felt their place was with Miss Trask. Trixie, not knowing which way to turn, remained still, trying to take everything in at once. That's when she spotted something, or rather someone, which made her do a double-take. Making his way toward her through the chaos was none other than Mart Belden.
"What are you doing here?" Trixie cried as her middle brother took her by the arm and pulled her to a more quiet location. "Did you ride up with Tom and Regan?"
"It would stand to reason." Mart snorted, shaking his head. "But if you must know, Einstein, I came to warn you about Jonesy. But from the looks of it, I'm too late."
"Jonesy?" Trixie gasped, quickly putting her hand to her mouth. She didn't want the whole room to hear her, so she brought her voice down a notch. "What's going on, Mart?" she begged.
Mart glanced about, to make sure no one was listening, then proceeded. "I'd like to ask you the same thing," he said. "When we got here, the front door was locked, and no one was answering our knocks. That's when Tom spied Miss Trask through the window. She was sprawled at the foot of the staircase and appeared to be unconscious. "
Trixie's eyes widened, dreading what her brother would say next. "Go on," she urged him.
"That's when Regan took a jack from the truck and broke out the window so I could edge in to unlock the door," he told her. "Tom, subsequently, headed to the neighbor's to call for help."
Trixie could guess the rest, but Mart's account didn't include anything about Jonesy. Or did it? Goosebumps rose on her arms.
"Mart," she ventured hesitantly, "Jonesy not alive his he?"
"Got me little, Sis," he said. "But I bumped into Spider Webster at the carnival in White Plains on Tuesday. He was up there on loan from the Sleepyside police department to help direct traffic. Anyway, he asked me if Jonesy had been giving us any problems. Spider had seen him picking up an order to go at Whimpey's on Saturday night and followed him a ways out of town. Trix, he mentioned Jonesy was driving a red pickup."
Trixie shook her fist in a show of power. "I knew it," she said. "What did Spider say when you told him Jonesy's supposed to be dead?"
"Not much," Mart admitted. "He said he must have been mistaken. But then he told me something else that might interest you. Someone took 's car for a joy ride on Saturday. Trixie, that car's the same color and model as our clown was driving."
"I know," Trixie said. "We heard about the theft on the radio on the way up here. But announcer on the radio said the car was stolen Saturday night?"
"Nah," Mart replied. "Spider thinks it went missing sometime in the afternoon. But that's not the end of the story. Putting two and two together, on the way back home from the fairgrounds, I asked Di's chauffer if we could swing by Mr. Lytle's store. He didn't mind, so while everyone else waited in the car, I ran in and asked if he thought it was Jonesy who'd bought our tickets."
"And?" Trixie prompted, as her brother took a moment to catch his breath.
"He admitted so," Mart finished, "but of course added that he'd only seen Jonesy in person once and then again in photos in the newspaper."
Trixie was suddenly very chilled.
"Oh, and before I forget," her brother added. "On Monday, I also sweet-talked Di into letting me use her princess phone to call the Cloverton Chronicles to complain about Dale Dart. Care to postulate what I ascertained?"
"There is no Dale Dart," Trixie surmised.
"Wrong-o!" Mart revealed. There's a Dale Dart on staff, alright. Only Dale's of the female persuasion and she doesn't possess a pickup."
"Gosh Mart, maybe Honey and I'll have to call our detective agency Belden, Belden, and Wheeler. Want a job?"
Mart was pleased by his sister's compliment. He was beginning to see why she loved sleuthing. Finding answers to riddles was addictive. "Don't count me out," he admitted as she smiled. "But come on, give. What's been going on around here? Miss Trask seems to think she fell down the stairs, but given the place has been ransacked, it more aptly reasons she was pushed."
As Trixie began telling Mart about their week's adventures, Brian came hustling up. "How'd you get sprung?" he asked his brother, patting him hello.
Mart chuckled. "By telling Moms and Dad Trixie hadn't taken her math book, and I was supposed to be tutoring her because she was failing again," he said. "Regan told me he planned to make the trip while I was helping exercise the horses. He didn't mind if I rode along."
Trixie looked horrified. She'd been working hard to bring her grades up in Math since she'd gotten a D on the mid-term final, and was finally pulling Bs. Pushing her middle brother in the chest, his sister cried, "You didn't?!"
"Yeah, I sort of did," Mart admitted sheepishly.
Brian rolled his eyes but couldn't keep from grinning. "Ok, you morons, well figure out how to fix this later. But right now, they're getting ready to load Miss Trask into the ambulance to take her to the hospital."
"How's she doing?" Trixie asked, suddenly aware her focus hadn't been where it should be.
"She's in a lot of discomfort," Brian replied. "She's got a nasty concussion, and the paramedics are worried she may have fractured her hip in the fall, but she's insisting she's fine."
"That sounds like Miss Trask," Trixie sighed. "I need to go see her."
And no truer words could be said. The governess had been fretting over the teens' late arrival, and it soon became evident that their chaperone was more worried about the events surrounding Jim's "little swim" than her own terrible spill.
"Dear me," she said to Trixie, as the young girl squeezed in at her side. "Thank goodness nothing happened to you. Honey was just telling me how you saved the day today."
In that instant, Trixie found herself swept up in a whirl-wind of shame. She felt more like a villain than she did a hero. Why she might as well have pushed Miss Trask down the steps herself. Maybe if she hadn't kept things hidden from the governess, or let the Bob-Whites go home when they wanted too, none of this would have happened. It wasn't like the young people hadn't tried to talk to Miss Trask. It was true their chaperone hadn't wanted to listen. But maybe they should have tried harder. Maybe she should have tried harder.
Trixie didn't know it, but her friends were also blaming themselves for the unfortunate attack on the dear woman. They all suspected, as Trixie and Mart did, that her fall had been no accident. The Bob-Whites had a lot to atone too, but first things first.
Assembling some sense of order, Sheriff Frank began calling the shots. Directing Honey to ride with Miss Trask to the regional hospital in the emergency vehicle, he told Brian, Mart, and Dan to follow the ambulance in the Belden's station wagon. Once Regan had unhooked the horse trailer from his pickup, he and Tom would join them at the medical center.
Jim and Trixie, in the meantime, were ordered to stay behind until the Sheriff finished questioning the two. They'd bring up the rear in the B.W.G.'s station wagon when he was done. But first, the officer sent Trixie and Jim upstairs to change. Still, damp and coated with mud, they were not a pretty sight to see.
When the teens came back downstairs a short time later, Trixie and Jim found everyone had left except Sheriff Baker and one of his deputies. The senior man, who'd been comparing notes with his second in command, glanced up and called them over.
"I hope we didn't take too long?" Jim asked, noting the gruffness in the law officer's voice.
"No, no," he replied, motioning for them to sit down. "Are you ready to answer a few questions?"
Trixie had a few questions of her own and didn't think the sheriff would mind if she did a little sleuthing first, but she was incorrect.
"Please, Miss," his heavy-set deputy instructed, "Come take a seat. I'd rather you didn't touch anything. We haven't dusted for fingerprints yet."
Sheriff Baker's stern demeanor lightened a bit as Trixie complied. He'd never admit it, but he wished his officer had some of her gumption. Smiling, he added, "Jim, we'll need you to bring your friends by the office in the morning so that I can get a set of everyone's prints. That won't pose a problem, will it?"
"No, Sir," Jim replied without hesitation. He was ready to head back to Sleepyside just as soon as Miss Trask had a clean bill of health, but he suspected that wouldn't be for a couple of days yet. Anxious to get to the hospital to check on her condition, he said, "Now, how may we help you?"
Since the young man had filed a police report with Sheriff Baker that morning, the officer already had an inkling of what was going on, but he had a hunch Trixie might have more to add. Especially after this latest incident. "Why don't you kids begin by telling me what you reckon just happened here?" he replied. "I don't believe Miss Trask simply took a tumble down the steps, and I don't think you do either. It's pretty apparent that someone's been in the house again, and it looks to me that were searching for something specific. Any idea what that might be?"
Trixie looked at Jim, and Jim nodded. Silently, they agreed it was time to tell all. Giving her hand a quick squeeze, the handsome young man handed the reins over to Trixie. His reassuring gesture was just the nudge the hesitant girl needed to spill her suspicions - no matter how farfetched they might seem.
The sheriff and deputy did well not interrupt as Trixie rambled on, trying her best not to go off on tangents. Once or twice, one or the other would chuckle a bit or raise an eyebrow or two, but for the most part, the officers listened intently. When done, Jim looked at Trixie proudly. He knew it hadn't been an easy thing for her to do.
"Goodness," the sheriff whistled, finally breaking his silence. "So if I'm to believe what you're telling me, you think it's possible Jim's stepfather, Jeremiah Jones, may still be among us? And is out to recover George's stolen stamp, after all these years?" He shook his head, continuing to mull over the idea. "I'm not sure I buy all this," he said gravely. " I do agree we need to take another look at that red pickup, though."
"Bob, why don't you head over to Circus World and question the owners about that service vehicle again? Sheriff Frank ordered. "It might not be a bad idea to compound it for a few days to check it for evidence, too," he added as an afterthought.
As Deputy Bob headed out the door, the professional demeanor of his superior warmed some. "You see yourself as quite the detective, don't you?" he asked Trixie, wrapping up his notes.
Trixie took a deep breath and held her head high. "Yes, Sir, I do," she replied firmly.
The sheriff smiled and looked at her with a touch of humor. "As well you should," he said. "And that kind of confidence will take you places, young lady - as long as you keep it in rein. Some puzzling things have been going on around here lately, and with the information you've given to me, many of them are beginning to make sense."
"May I ask what kind of puzzling things?" Jim wondered, hoping the added info might give his friend the missing pieces she'd been searching for.
Sheriff Baker made it clear that for legal reasons, he wasn't open to discussing everything, but he did share what he felt he could. As it turned out, there'd been a rash of bizarre thefts in the area. The first had occurred on Thursday night when someone broke into Miller's Feed and Seed, taking several jugs of herbicide. The following morning, the amusement park discovered one of its trucks was missing. The same day, the owner of A& B Construction, who'd won the bid on the new dam project, reported a box of blasting caps, a detonator, and some other assorted demolition supplies had disappeared. Then Monday night, came the call from Mr. O'Malley at Circus World, advising the missing pickup had been located.
"Until now, I wasn't concerned about pickup," he admitted, "but I think I'll pay Smitty at the filling station a visit, and see if he can tell me who it was he towed in on Monday."
Trixie had been chewing on the tip of her fingernail unconsciously. "I wonder what he's driving now?" she mumbled quietly.
"What's that?" Jim asked, catching the tail end of her sentence.
"I was just wondering what the guy who took the pickup is driving now that it's been returned?", Trixie repeated. "Sheriff Baker, have any other cars been reported stolen recently?"
The sheriff scratched at the five o'clock shadow filling in on his chin. Trixie wasn't sure if it itched, or if it was an indication that he was hesitant to reply. As it turned out, it was a little bit of both.
"Well, I suppose it won't hurt if I tell you," the older man said. "Buzz Phillip's boy's heap was taken the other day. I suspect it's related. So if you happen to see a rusty old Maverick out and about…"
"A Maverick?!" both Trixie and Jim cried in unison.
"Was it tan with a brown vinyl top?" Jim asked.
"Why yes," the Sheriff replied. "How did you know?"
"We saw it parked alongside the old fire road down by the creek this afternoon," Trixie exclaimed. "We thought it belonged to a fisherman. Only I don't think it's there anymore. I'm pretty sure I heard it drive off."
"Which would be about the same time Regan and Tom discovered Miss Trask unconscious," Jim added, putting the pieces together.
Trixie nodded her head so vigorously that her mop of blond curls flopped in her face. Pushing her hair back, she cried, "Exactly! He must have hidden the car where he thought it wouldn't be seen, and was making his get-away."
Sheriff Baker hoisted on his heavy brown jacket. "OK, kids. We're getting pretty close to nailing this guy. I'm going to put out an A.P.B. on the Maverick. I want you to join your friends in town and book rooms at the Shangri-La Motor Inn for the night. I'll send a man over to keep watch as soon as I can arrange it. If you think of anything you've forgotten, or if you see the Maverick again, call my office immediately and leave a message with the secretary. She'll know how to reach me." He handed Trixie one of his business cards with the number on it.
"Where will you be?" Trixie wondered, slipping the card into her pocket.
"I'm going to head over to the filling station," he replied. "Then I'll probably check out the situation at Miller's Creek. Tonight I'll camp out here. The crook may come back if he didn't get what he was after this afternoon, and the farm looks empty. Now get your stuff, and let's go."
Trixie grabbed her purse and followed Jim and the Sheriff out the front door. Handing Officer Baker a copy of the house key, Jim explained that he planned to board up the front window, and then lock things tight before they left. The Sheriff offered to help, but Jim insisted that he and Trixie could manage if the sheriff wanted to go ahead and get a jump on things before it got any later.
Sheriff Baker did, so by the time Trixie and Jim returned from the barn with supplies, he was gone.
Holding a large sheet of plywood up to the window frame, Jim asked Trixie to pound nails into each of the four corners. When she finished, and Jim was able to let go, he added a few additional tacks to help secure the patch. Stepping back to observe their work, Jim noticed heavy clouds were building on the horizon. "Looks like it's going to rain again," he said with a groan.
Trixie lifted her head and realized the attic window was open. "Gosh, sure does," she replied. "I better pop up to the third floor and shut things up."
To Trixie's relief, Jim volunteered to go with her. She wasn't sure why, but the top story always gave her the chills. Somehow, she never felt like she was alone when she was up there.
Dashing inside, the two rushed up the narrow staircase leading to the attic. The steps creaked as they went, which only added to Trixie's uncomfortable feeling. Hitting the landing, the young people were perplexed. There was no window.
"Where is it?" Trixie demanded, spinning to get a full 360-degree view of the dormer.
"It should be right here?" Jim replied equally, dismayed. He knocked along the wall with his fist, raising a thick cloud of dust.
Fanning her face, Trixie let out a series of coughs. "There must be a sealed-off room behind this panel," she reasoned, as soon as the fit subsided. "It sounded hollow when you pounded on it. Shall we try giving it a shove?"
Together, the teenagers forced all of their weight against the obstruction, but it refused to budge. They also could find no evidence of a lift, or a door, of any kind.
Then Jim had an idea. "Maybe there's another entrance in from below," he suggested. "That area should be right above Mother's room."
Trixie was down the steps before Jim finished his sentence. "Do you realize what this might mean?" she asked, as her friend caught up with her. "Mr. Handleman's stamp might be in that room!"
"Anything's possible," Jim admitted, catching a bit of her excitement. "Try the closet, Trix. See if there is a lift in the ceiling. Our first house was built with one there. Maybe this one was too."
Trixie did as instructed and let out a booming cry of eureka. "Jim, we've found the entrance! Hurry, give me a boost so I can see what's up there."
Wasting no time, Jim squeezed into the tight space next to her. "That won't be necessary," he said, sizing up the situation. The young man reached into a dark corner and produced a small wooden step ladder. Setting it up under the hatch, he held it steady for his friend.
"I thought Mother used this to get things off the top shelf," Jim went on to explain.
As Trixie began her climb she replied, "I imagine she did. Your mom would have no reason to think the attic's in two parts. And accessing the main room is much easier using the stairwell."
Jim wondered if he'd made a mistake letting the sprightly girl go first. As Trixie balanced precariously on the top step, he watched her tensely until she pushed the hingeless door up and then to one side, revealing the opening above.
"Gleeps, it looks like someone's been living up here!" Trixie cried down, after poking her head through the rectangular gap. "No sign of anyone now, though."
Urging her to use caution, Jim continued to watch as his friend pulled herself through the opening. Then as soon as she was out of sight, he quickly followed her up.
Only Trixie was sorry she hadn't warned Jim about the smell. For not only was the hidden room damp and mildewed, but it also held a sour pungency which instantly turned the young man's stomach.
Struggling to control his nausea, Jim stooped over as Trixie sought to discover the source of the unpleasant odor. It clearly wasn't coming from the pallet of moth-eaten blankets in the corner. Or from the rumpled sack of groceries sitting next to it. No, it most certainly had to be emanating from the trash heap of empty beer cans and liquor bottles which were scattered about on the floor. The mess was disgusting. The teens couldn't move an inch without stepping on something foul. And from the frown on Jim's face, Trixie guessed he just had.
"What's that?" she asked, as her ashen comrade nudged a small black box with the toe of his shoe.
Jim didn't have to pick up the item to know what it was. "It's the stolen detonator," he replied. "Can you believe that creep's been living under our noses all this time?"
Trixie shivered at the thought of someone so dangerous hovering about above her as she slept. She didn't even want to think it might be Jonesy. But if it wasn't, whoever it was, was equally as bad, and he wasn't a ghost. A ghost didn't drink like a fish or eat sardines from a can.
"It does explain a lot," she replied. "Like the afternoon of the big storm. I'm willing to bet the explosion at the creek was another of Mr.X's diversions to get us out of the house so he could sneak back in. He must have discovered this part of the attic when he first started searching for the stamp, back before we came on the scene. Scary to think he's been coming and going ever since."
"Sure is," Jim admitted as he shut the window, completing their task. "We'd better be going, Trix. We don't want to be here if your "Mr.X" comes back. We'll call the sheriff's office once we reach the hospital."
Trixie wasn't quite ready to leave. "Don't be in such a rush," she pleaded anxiously. "I think I may have found something else."
Jim joined his friend to see what she was picking out of the trash. "Those scraps of paper?" he asked impatiently.
Trixie nodded. "But they're no ordinary scraps," she said. "They're the remaining pieces of a very important letter. Maybe now we'll get some answers."
Clearing a spot on the floor, Trixie sat down cross-legged and began reassembling the message. As she finished, there was one section missing, and she smiled.
"Wow," Jim breathed, dropping down next to her. "The missing piece must be the one we found at the cabin. Boy, I wish we still had it."
Trixie glanced at her friend, sheepishly. "What if I told you we do have it?" she confessed as she stood momentarily to remove the missing fragment from her pocket.
Jim wasn't exactly pleased to have his wish granted. "I thought I told you to leave everything where it was," he scolded her as she sat back down. "Why didn't you hand that over to Sheriff Baker, Trixie?"
Trixie grimaced and admitted, "Would you believe I forgot in all the excitement?"
"Normally, no," Jim replied. "But it's not every day Miss Trask gets pushed down a flight of stairs, either. So this time I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Does it fit?"
The piece of paper did fit, and the two young people read the note in startled silence.
Well, Jake,
Things have never worked out the way
we planned, have they? Even when were
kids, things went wrong. Remember
when we thought the old man snagged
Handleman's stamp? And we were going
to find it, and get rich? We searched
alright, but dang it, the old buzzard
must have hocked it after all.
Things have always worked that way.
This time's no different.
As it's turns out, you won't be getting
the farm as expected. A few years back,
I fell on some hard times.
I'd of lost the dump if Kate hadn't
paid up with the money her late left her
and the brat. But I had to agree to sign
the farm over to the kid in my will. Tough
break, Jake.
About now, I bet you're wishing you
could wring my neck. But if you're reading
this, likely somebody beat you to it.
Jake, I leave you my watch, my gold
ring, and any cash in my wallet at
the time of my death.
It won't be much – but you were
never worth much.
Angry Jake? Make sure the kid
gets what he deserves. For all I did for
him, all I got in return was trouble.
Keebles will give you a set of keys to the
farm, and has orders to keep his lips zipped.
The kid knows nothing about you Jake.
Keep it that way. Understand?
Jerry
As they finished, Trixie could tell by the flash in Jim's eyes he was plenty angry. "I should have figured a dirty criminal like Jonesy would have a crooked lawyer," he growled, confirming her hunch. "Keebles must have contacted this Jake person about Jonesy's death long before he got around to calling me."
"Honey and I knew Jonesy wasn't through causing you problems," Trixie confessed, feeling a tad smug.
Jim stood up and tucked in the tail of his shirt. "Well, you were right about that," he said. "In a sense, I guess we've been dealing with his ghost, too. I have no idea who Jake might be, but he must be a pretty shady fellow if Jonesy was using him as his pawn. At least now you can let go of the idea that Mr. Handleman's somehow involved. "
This was one time Trixie was glad to be proven wrong. Leaving the letter assembled on the floor for the Sheriff, she accepted Jim's hand up. Dusting off the seat of her pants, she remarked, "I think it's pretty clear Jonesy reminded Jake about the stamp his father stole. I'm positive Jake's been searching for it."
"It does appear that way," Jim admitted. "But I think it's also obvious he hasn't found anything. Let's face it, Trix. It's like Jonesy says in his letter. The stamp's not here."
Trixie set her jaw stubbornly. The stamp was still in the house. No one had yet proven otherwise. Her only regret was that the B.W.G.s had to spend the night in town. Time was running out. They would be going home soon. She had to find that stamp. If she didn't, it would haunt her forever.
Jim tipped her under the chin. "Lighten up," he said with a smile. "You've solved one mystery. Once Sheriff Baker gets wind of this letter and secret room, I bet he'll be able to track Jake down in no time."
Trixie wondered where Jake was hiding now. If only she knew who he really was, it might be easier to figure out his whereabouts. The letter indicated that Jonesy and Jake had grown up together. Were they friends or…?
"Jim!" she cried, suddenly seized by an inspiration. "May I run up to the main attic?"
"You'll have to make it snappy," he replied, checking his watch. "We should have been in town half an hour ago."
"It will only take a sec!" Trixie promised.
