Chapter18:
Trapped!
"I still don't understand how Sheriff Baker's men could let Jake getaway," Trixie told her brothers as they pulled out of the hospital parking lot the next morning. "When he posed as a clown at our picnic, he walked with a very pronounced limp. Surely he didn't outrun them? Everyone on that force is incompetent if you ask me. Why even Miss Trask thinks so."
Mart kicked the back of his sister's seat to put a pause in her rant. "We're fortunate the dear lady is still allowing us to partake in our morning amusements," he interjected. "It took every particle of persuasion in the Bob-Whites repartee to keep her from retracting her permission."
Brian applied the car's brakes as the signal light at the intersection turned red. Regan's pickup and the Bob-White station wagon had come to a stop in front of them. "Actually, it was Sheriff Baker who convinced Miss Trask to let us go," he told his siblings. "He dropped by this morning to see how she was doing, and he assured her then, that guards at Circus World wouldn't let anyone fitting Jake's description through the gate without proper I.D. It didn't hurt that Mr. Wheeler wired the park's security service enough funds to have half a dozen extra men patrolling the grounds today."
"What was the sheriff doing in town?" Trixie asked with surprise. "I thought he was going to stay at the farm?"
As the light turned green, Brian urged the car forward. Trixie and Mart had been down the hall with Tom, picking up juice and coffee for everyone, when Miss Trask mentioned the sheriff's visit. "Easy little sister," the eldest Belden replied. "The farm's still under surveillance. The sheriff just had a few matters to attend to at the office. Miss Trask said he planned to go back when he was through."
Trixie wasn't sure if that was good news or bad. Jake was bound to show up at the house sooner or later. And it would be better if Sheriff Baker was there to greet him, than one of his blundering deputies. Still, a part of Trixie hoped the law officer would be at his desk when they arrived to have their fingerprints taken. She had a few questions about the night before, and Trixie wanted answers.
But Sheriff Frank Baker had already gone by the time the Bob-White's party arrived at the municipal building. And the gray-haired lady taking their prints admitted she wasn't permitted to discuss the case. So with another task completed, Trixie and her friends headed to Handleman's Hobbies to say "good morning" and pick out a few souvenirs.
Entering the shop, Trixie was dazzled by the vast array of model trains, cars, and rockets lining the shelves against the wall. Just as entrancing were the spinning racks, in the center of the room, displaying tanning supplies, needlework needs, and other assorted arts and crafts. But the highlight of the shop, in her opinion, was the glass-topped case, which showed off Mr. Handleman's inventory of collectible stamps and coins. The store may have been small, but it had most everything a hobbyist might want or need.
Seeing the Bob-White's and their chaperones milling about, Mr. Handleman finished with his customer, and then greeted the young people inquiring about Miss Trask.
"She's feeling much stronger this morning," Jim replied, picking out a high powered rocketry kit. "She said to give you her best."
Mr. Handleman, who'd been genuinely concerned, seemed relieved. "So glad to hear it," he said. " She gave us quite a scare yesterday." Then, noticing Jim's selection, added, "Still like the model rockets, do you, James? That's the best set in the shop. I've got extra engines in the back if you're interested?"
The starry-eyed teen didn't need any coaxing, so the portly shopkeeper headed for the stock room.
"I used to come in just to look at these beauties," Jim told his friends as he placed the enticing showpiece on the counter. "I didn't have the money in the old days to buy one. And Mr. Handleman knew it. So one afternoon, he handed me a kit and told me it was a sample given to him by a salesman. He insisted I take it home and put it to the test. I'm sure the story was made up, but that rocket was my pride and joy until Jonesy took it away."
Having returned with the package of spare motors, Mr. Handleman scoffed, "It's criminal the way that man treated you."
"I called social services on him more than once," he told the Bob-Whites. "Each time, the scoundrel would clean up his act just long enough to con the agent into believing everything was hunky-dory. I swear, Jones had that woman convinced that I was nothing more than an old busy body. He could be quite the charmer when he had a notion."
"That's how he fooled Mother into marrying him," Jim added. "I really appreciate how you tried, Mr. Handleman."
"I feel like I let you down, James," the older man said. "With Jake too. Everyone in that family's been slippery as an eel. Why I was talking with Bob May down at the Chronicles this morning, and Frank told him, it's likely Jake's fled town. According to Bob, last evening our local boys had Jake in their headlights, when he jumped ship and sent that old car he nabbed over a cliff. Frank's men apparently thought Jones was in the vehicle, but by the time they got down to the river, where it ended up, the sneaky so-and-so was gone. Frank told Bob, no one could've walked away from that wreck. Anyway, later, Ellen Collins maintains she sold a man, resembling Jones, a ticket to New York City on the 12:05 bus."
"Makes sense," Dan mused, "The big city's a good place to go when you want to disappear."
Dan's uncle, who'd been somewhat uptight all morning, let himself relax. "Well, at least if Jake's in New York, there's less of a chance he'll be bothering you kids today," he said. "We're on our way to Circus World," Regan went on to explain to the quizzical shopkeeper.
"Oh, then I mustn't keep you!" Mr. Handleman exclaimed with a smile. "The park's sure to busy with the nice weather we have today. Trixie, would you like me to show you where I keep the balsa gliders?"
"Thank you, that would be wonderful," Trixie replied. "Brian and I think one would make a perfect gift for Bobby," she told Mart, as Mr. Handleman led the teens down a tightly packed aisle to his modest section of toys. "Don't you think so?"
Mart, who had gotten sidetracked along the way, looked up from the display he was eyeballing. "Indubitably!" he replied, grinning. Although I myself would prefer one of these nifty remote control race cars if you're buying, dear sister?"
Trixie smiled inwardly. If nothing else, she could always count on her crew cut brother to provide a little comic relief.
"You're on your own," she answered back, playfully. "When you crashed our little party, I scratched your name off my shopping list."
Mart jutted out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. "Don't you lub me anymore?" he asked, much to everyone's amusement. "When we get home, I'm gonna tell Moms you're bein' mean to me."
Trixie's middle brother looked and sounded so much like their baby brother that Trixie's first instinct was to counter his threat. "Come on," she sighed, taking the goofy teen by his wrist. "If you cut the act, I'll get you a glider too. One Bobby Belden in this family's enough!"
A short time later, with their money spent and visit completed, the Bob-Whites bid the shopkeeper farewell. Their next stop? Circus World!
Trixie's heart beat faster as she and her friends walked through the front gate of the amusement park. Open for business; it no longer seemed spooky and dark. Alive with squealing children, flashing lights, and swirling rides, she felt dizzy and giddy at the same time.
"Isn't the park is delightful?" Honey squealed, spinning about to take it all in. "Everything's straight out of a circus. See that pop stand over there in the shape of an animal cage? Isn't it cute! And look, there's a dining hall under the big-top." She handed her pocket camera to Trixie. "Take a picture of me with my head in the lion's mouth," she begged.
Trixie laughed as she snapped the shot of Honey drinking at the novelty water fountain. "We're acting just like a couple of little kids," she told her friend happily.
"Well, we're all kids at heart," a smiley clown said, holding out a big yellow balloon filled with helium.
Trixie accepted the free balloon, but she still wasn't overly keen on clowns. This one wasn't nearly as scary as the one at the B.W.G. picnic had been, but the encounter, none the less, brought her senses back down to earth.
Honey, however, was still flying high. Choosing a red heart-shaped balloon, she tied the string around her little finger and gave her newfound friend a peck on the cheek. The boys, thinking themselves too old for such toys, passed when their turn came up in line, though Tom did pick out a blue balloon to take to Miss Trask.
Noting that time was quickly slipping away, and the lines around some of the amusements longer than expected, Dan asked, "What shall we ride first?"
"Care to take a spin on my tricycle?" a man in a bear suit called, as he peddled toward the young man waving.
Dan chuckled as he jumped out of the costumed man's way. "Sorry, fella, not exactly my speed," he hollered after him. "So guys, what'll it be?" he again asked the Bob-Whites.
"My vote's the roller coaster!" Trixie piped up eagerly. "Jim says it's a doozy."
The boys were all for the idea. However, Honey wasn't quite as enthused by Trixie's selection. "I'll wait for you by the exit ramp with Tom and Regan," she told the group, taking charge of her best friend's balloon.
"Are you sure?" Brian called out, as he moved into line with the others. "Last chance. You can sit between Mart and me if you're frightened."
Honey declined with a vigorous shake of her head.
"Your sister ate a big breakfast," Trixie giggled in Jim's ear as they moved up to the loading gate. "She didn't think Miss Trask was going to let us come today."
Jim held Trixie's hand as she stepped down into the old-fashioned roller coaster car. Taking the seat next to her, he clicked the safety bar into place. Seated in front of them, at the head of the train, were Brian and Mart. Dan sat alone, just behind.
"Watch out for that first hill," Jim yelled to the other boys, as the cars began to lurch forward, "it's a lulu!"
Honey watched in horror as her friends rocketed over the initial peak, and then swung up the next incline. The rickety wooden roller coaster rocked and creaked with every swerve, only adding to the suspense. After two more hills, and several sharp turns, the Bob-Whites' cars rolled to a stop, and the teenagers climbed out laughing.
"You should have come with us," Trixie cried as they rejoined a relieved Tom, Regan, and Honey by the turnstile. "What a ride!"
"Stupendous!" Mart agreed. "By throwing my arms skyward, prior to plummeting that colossal crest, I experienced the sensation of freefall as we entered our descent."
"Yeah, we heard you screaming you wanted off," Tom teased, giving Mart a playful nudge. "So where to next, kids?"
The Bob-Whites rode several more exhilarating rides before they decided it was time to give their spinning heads a rest. Stopping first at a refreshment stand for a round of tall lemonades, the lively group made their way toward the Penny Arcade.
To no one's surprise, "The Penny Arcade" was actually more of a "Quarter Arcade." For a quarter here, and a quarter there, Circus World's visitors could try their hand at everything from tossing softballs at stuffed monkeys, to pitching plastic hoops over glass bottles, to win prizes. The set up was bright, flashy, and admittedly somewhat of a sham, but it was also loads of fun!
"Oh, look at the funny snake!" Trixie exclaimed, pointing to a furry pink toy, hanging from the rafters above the Safari Shooting Gallery.
Brain glanced up at the cross-eyed monstrosity and grimaced. "Who'd want something silly like that?" he wondered, pushing her forward.
Trixie stuck out her chin and planted her feet. "I would," she replied. "Do you have a problem with that?"
Jim laughed and laid three quarters on the shooting gallery counter. "Then you shall have it," he announced, giving her a wink.
Wishing Jim good luck, Dan and Mart went to try their hand at the ring toss, while Honey and Brian sauntered off to play skeeball.
Tom and Regan, who'd gotten in line behind Jim, jeered nonstop as younger man missed his first and second attempt at winning the long stuffed snake. Only the red-headed teenager wasn't one to lose, and he remained unruffled. Jim was sure that the site on the rifle had been tinkered with, and once he had a feel for the gun, victory would be at hand.
So taking a deep breath, with Trixie cheering him on, Jim steadied himself for his third and final try. First pulling the rifle a bit to the left, and then aiming high, he squeezed the trigger. As the shot rang out, one of the rotating metal targets flipped on its side, setting off an alarm of bells and flashing lights. Having bagged the tiger, Jim had beaten the game!
Somewhat impressed, the attendant, dressed in khakis and a pith hat, used a long forked stick to pull down his winner's prize. Beaming with pride, Jim promptly presented it to his tickled blonde friend.
Rushing to where Honey and Brian were waiting, Trixie wrapped her new toy around her neck and asked, "Like my boa, Darlings?"
Honey giggled as she caught her friend's intended pun. "I don't think that's what the Fashion Monthly meant when they said the reptile look is in this season, Trixie."
"Ah, don't listen to her, she's just jealous," Dan scoffed, joining teens. He had his hands tucked deviously behind his back and was grinning uncontrollably. "And speaking of being jealous. Brian, you're going to be green with envy when you see what I've won."
Dan brought forth his hands, revealing a pair of fuzzy red dice, and the Bob-Whites cracked up with laughter.
When Trixie had regained her self-control, she asked the young man where he planned to hang them.
Dan's mischievous grin only widened. "Well, Trixie," he began slowly. "I thought, being the generous sort of guy that I am, I'd donate them to the Bob-Whites for the club station wagon."
Trixie thought Brian looked green, but not with envy. "Oh, what a wonderfully wonderful idea," she replied impishly. "All in favor of hanging the fuzzy dice in the B.W.G. 'mobile say 'I.'"
Everyone let out an enthusiastic "I," but Brian.
"Looks like the 'I's have it," Jim declared with a smirk. "As club president, I deem the motion passed."
"Hey, wait just a minute!" Brian objected, feeling a bit railroaded. "Don't I get a say in this?"
The teenagers continued to laugh as they started down the midway. His answer was a definite "no".
Reaching Margret Ann's caricature parlor, the boys and girls parted ways. As the young men headed on over to meet John at the haunted house, Trixie and Honey prepared to pose for Miss O'Malley. Regan, who'd flipped a coin with Tom to see who would stay with the girls, waited impatiently at their side.
To his dismay, when finished, the young ladies had expressed a desire to browse through the gift shops while the boys squeezed in a few more rides. Not exactly keen on the notion of going shopping, the out of place stableman was already looking forward to 2:30, when both groups were to meet back up at the big-top for a late lunch, before returning to the hospital to pick up Miss Trask.
"Margret Ann must be very good," Honey observed, as she and her friends moved into the crowd of people surrounding the tiny whitewashed booth. "She's very busy today."
Trixie was still feeling a tad guilty about accepting the young woman's invite. "I wonder if she has time for two non-paying customers?" she remarked, thinking perhaps it would be better if just they go.
Only when Maggie saw the girls and their chaperone approaching, she smiled and waved them forward.
"Trixie, Honey, I'm so glad you came! Tell me, who's your friend here? You must let me do your sketch too, "she begged the red-headed groom.
Regan chuckled but quickly declined. "I've had caricatures done before," he admitted, knowing the girls were in for some fun. "Somehow, I always seem to end up with my head attached to the body of a horse."
As Maggie laughed, feigning innocence in such things, Trixie gave Honey a perplexed look.
"A caricature is a drawing of a person which exaggerates their features," Honey explained, under her breath. "It's somewhat like a cartoon rendering, Trixie. The artist usually tries to incorporate the person's personality or interests into their sketch."
Trixie still wasn't sure she understood, but she took the seat in front of Margret Ann's easel when asked. She was nervous and wondered how long she'd have to sit still, but the apprehensive girl's worries faded as the skilled artist began to draw.
To her relief, Maggie worked quite quickly, and as she did, she engaged Trixie in idle chit chat. Trixie suspected it was to get to know her better, but Miss O'Malley's manner was so warm and genuine, she felt like she was confiding in a friend. Trixie talked about school, her chores at home, and even her plans to become a detective! And before she knew it, her portrait was very nearly done.
After adding a final splash of color, Margret Ann carefully removed the page from her sketch pad and told her subject she could hop down from the stool. Sliding the finished work into a light cardboard frame, she unveiled her masterpiece to the crowd.
Trixie was the first to laugh. No wonder Maggie was so busy. She'd captured her likeness perfectly.
In her sketch, the young artist had emphasized Trixie's pert freckled nose and wild swirling curls. Just like in real life, the "Trixie" in the picture was also wearing her red Bob-White jacket and had one big toe protruding from a hole in her sneaker. But the pièce de résistance, as Mart would later say, was the giant magnifying glass which the girl in the drawing held up to an oversized eye. It was Trixie to a T.
Honey couldn't wait for her turn, and when Margret Ann had finished, she compared the completed rendering to her image in a mirror. "Why it looks just like me," she said with amazement.
Maggie had somehow captured every ounce of Honey's sweetness - though overstated it might be. From the softness in the large round eyes to the gentleness in her lovely smile, she'd depicted Honey nearly as mesmerizing as the Mona Lisa.
"The jar of honey you have her perched on is a nice touch," Regan told Margret Ann, admiring her work.
"I'm glad you like the portraits," Maggie said, obviously pleased.
"Oh, we do," Trixie told her in earnest. "I wish I had your talent. My brother Bobby, who's six, draws better stick people than I do. Have you had any formal training, Maggie?"
"In a sense," the young woman revealed. "My mother's a professional artist. She studied in France as a young girl and has been mentoring me ever since I was small. She gives classes from her studio in town, and during the offseason, I help."
"Well, she must be an excellent teacher," Honey maintained. "Your work is outstanding. Are you sure we can't pay you a little something?"
Margret Ann laughed and motioned for her next customer to take a seat. "Your compliments are payment enough," she said. "But if you really would like to do something for me, you can come to my wedding in June. John and I've set a date."
"Oh, how wonderful!" Trixie and Honey cried together. "Of course, we'd love to come!"
"I'm so pleased," Maggie replied. "Stop back by before you leave today, and I'll take down your addresses so I can send out invitations. If you'd like, you may stash your pictures and other items here in the booth until then?"
Trixie and Honey gladly accepted her offer to free up their hands. Tucking their things under the artist's workbench, they mouthed a soft "see you later," and then ambled off with Regan.
Unfamiliar with the park, the three visitors from Sleepyside, followed the arrow-shaped signs which lined the route to the marketplace. At first, Trixie thought they must have made a wrong turn at the Whirl-A-Gig. But at second glance, what appeared from the outside to be an old fashioned carnival sideshow, was actually a string of enticing boutiques. For in each window, hung a bright colored banner designed to lure customers in to discover its unique collection of treasures and oddities.
Sadly, however, the trio soon found the shops to be expensive and difficult to navigate. They were overly crowded for one thing. And it didn't help that Regan kept pushing the girls forward from behind.
"What's the hurry?" Honey finally asked, glancing down at her watch. "We've got more than an hour before we're to meet the others for lunch, Regan?"
The fidgety man shuffled his feet sheepishly. "Would you mind making it quick?" he asked. "I need to locate a restroom. I shouldn't have had that second lemonade."
Honey sighed and put down the box of chocolates she was considering as a gift for Miss Trask. "Do Trixie and I really need to come with you?" she asked. "I'm sure nothing will happen to us while you're gone."
"I'm not willing to take that chance," Regan told her firmly. "If I go, we all go."
"Now you're just being silly," Trixie told him. "Honey and I certainly can't go into the men's room with you. We'll be on our own either way."
Regan thought for a moment, and then decided he'd be fine until lunchtime.
Honey rolled her eyes. "Really, Regan, you can be so ridiculous. Come on, let's find one of those security guards that Daddy hired, and put him to work. He can babysit Trixie and me while you go inside. OK?"
Trixie grinned mischievously, as Honey took control. Quickly locating an officer, her friend launched into an explanation of who she was, their silly situation, and their need for directions to the nearest public facility. Leading the way, Officer Joe chuckled, enjoying his new assignment.
Reaching their destination, the girls settled down on a park bench to wait for their chaperone. The line around the rest area was twice that of the longest ride, so the young ladies decided to do some people watching to pass the time. Meanwhile, Officer Joe positioned himself nearby, with one eye on the girls, and one eye on the masses.
However, it didn't take long before boredom set in. Honey, who sat twiddling her thumbs, attempted to make small talk, though Trixie didn't seem to be much in the mood. "Are you sure there isn't anything else you'd like to do before we go home?" she asked her friend for a second time.
"Of course there is," Trixie muttered back. "I'd like to find 's stamp. But I can't do that from here, can I?"
Honey frowned, feeling equally frustrated. "Trixie, even if we had an extra day or two at the farm, I don't know where else we'd look. If the stamp's there, it's invisible."
Trixie chewed on her lower lip. "There's an idea," she mused slowly. "How could Jonesy's father have made the stamp invisible?"
Honey was stymied. "How do you make anything invisible?" she replied. "I suppose you could camouflage it. But how?"
Trixie jumped from the bench. "You can put it on a letter!" she cried. "Just because it's stuck to an envelope doesn't mean it's gone through the mail. Honey, you did it! I know where the stamp is! And I'm the one that put it there! We've got to round up the others and get to the farm."
Honey pulled Trixie back down as Officer Joe looked their way. "Shh. You're drawing too much attention," she warned. "We'll have to wait for Regan. He's nowhere near the head of the line yet. Besides, we'd never find the boys in this crowd. We might as well stay for lunch as planned, Trixie. We have to swing by the farm after picking up Miss Trask, anyway. You can check out your theory then."
"But it isn't a theory," Trixie insisted. "I don't know how I was so blind, Honey. I'm right, I know I'm right. I knew at the library I'd seen a stamp like it someplace before. I just couldn't remember where."
"If you're so sure of yourself, then where is it?" Honey wanted to know.
Trixie tossed her head in the air. "If you're going to make me wait, then I'm going to make you wait," she huffed childishly.
"Goodness, you're as impossible as Regan," Honey moaned. "But I hope your right. In the meantime, let's ask Joe if we can ride the Ferris Wheel. We'll both go stir crazy if we have to sit here much longer."
Trixie agreed, and when Officer Joe didn't see any harm in the girls' request, they advised Regan of their plans and climbed aboard.
"Maybe we can spot the boys from the air," Trixie suggested to Honey, as the giant wheel began to rotate. "Jim's red hair shouldn't be too hard to miss. Let me know if you see him anywhere?"
As Honey strained her eyes, scanning the ground below, she let out a sudden gasp and grabbed Trixie's arm. "Look there!" she cried in horror. "See that clown talking to Officer Joe? It's the clown from our B.B.Q., Trixie!"
Trixie leaned forward, causing their cart to rock precariously. "Where? I don't see either of them," she declared with alarm.
"Over there," Honey indicated, pointing in the direction of the refreshment stand. "The clown's limping, see?"
"I see him now," Trixie replied. "And we both know why he's limping, don't we Honey?"
Honey nodded. "It's because his father put a bullet in his leg when he was just a boy," she said with certainty. "Trixie, we've found Jake!"
"No," Trixie corrected her darkly. "Jake's found us. Where did Officer Joe go?"
"I think that's him running toward the front gate," Honey said. "But now I don't see Jonesy's brother anywhere? Do you think Security let him in believing he was an employee?"
"Must have," Trixie replied. "But this is no time to worry about it. We've got to get off this thing and get to Regan, Honey. Maybe we got lucky, and Jake doesn't know we're up here. Next time we go around, call the attendant, and tell him you're sick. He'll stop the ride."
Honey did as told, and the minute they hit the ground, the girls rushed to the restrooms. "Just our luck, he's not here!" Trixie cried when they couldn't find Regan.
"Oh woe, he must be inside," Honey said in a panic. "What do we do now? There isn't a guard in sight."
"We call Sheriff Baker," Trixie replied. "I saw a phone booth behind the building. When Regan comes out, we'll go to the main gate for help."
As the two girls squeezed into the tiny booth, Trixie dropped a dime into the slot on the phone. Dialing the number off of the business card the Sheriff had given her for emergencies, Honey patted her on the back for remembering it.
The phone rang several times before the woman who'd taken the B.W.G.s fingerprints, picked up. Despite having been told the call was an emergency, the elderly lady put Trixie on hold before she could object.
"Hurry up!" Trixie muttered, tapping her foot anxiously.
Honey twisted around to watch for Regan and then clutched her mouth in a panic. "Trixie, hang up," she cried. "Do it now! Here comes Jake. We've got to make a run for it!"
Trixie slammed the phone down, but it was too late to escape. The hideous clown was blocking the door.
