Chapter Six: R.I.P.
It was a quarter after ten when the Beldens pulled through the gate at Manor House. The sides of the long drive leading to the stately home and stables were littered with brightly glowing jack-o'lanterns. The pumpkins Honey and Di had carved were smiley. Trixie's mean and frowning. But as for the boys' masterpieces? Let's face it. They were downright gross.
The young men's Halloween party greeters had goop and seeds spewing from their facial orifices. Some of the jack-o'lanterns were barfing. Others had runny noses. There was even one poor pumpkin with a plastic knife stuck in its eye with stringy pulp oozing from it -it was the work of the demonic pig man.
"Gleeps! Don't the pumpkins look great?!" Trixie cried as Brian slowed the jalopy so the teens could bask in the festive sight.
"I'll say," Mart agreed. "They're an unadulterated Samhain lollapalooza."
Brian laughed, assuming that was good, and sped up a notch as Little Bo Peep's subcompact came up behind the young people. Guests were still arriving. The Beldens were only a little bit late.
"When we get up to the house, I think I'll call Dad from the stables," the eldest of the siblings said. "Bob was crushed that he was too young to attend the hayride tonight. He'd get a kick out of seeing the jack-o'lanterns all lit up. Maybe Moms wouldn't mind rousting the little monster out of bed for a quick drive." Bobby was the teenagers' six-year-old brother.
"Oh, Brian, that's a wonderful idea," Trixie said. "Moms and Daddy would enjoy seeing the pumpkins too!"
At the top of the drive, Regan was directing traffic with an L.E.D. wand. With Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler out of town, the redheaded groom and Miss Trask were acting chaperones. Regan didn't want anyone parking on the family's well-manicured lawns.
Motioning the jalopy into one of the few remaining spaces by the garage, the grinning groom called out, "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make it. Everything, go OK?"
After Brian had parked the car, Trixie climbed out, exclaiming, "Just wait until you get a load of this, Regan! Boy, oh, boy, do I have a lulu to tell you!"
Brian rolled his eyes. "Mind if I use the phone in your office?" he asked the groom before his sister began her long-winded recant of the teens' visit with Mr. Mahoney. "I thought our parents might want to bring Bobby up to see the jack-o-lanterns. That would be alright, wouldn't it?"
"Of course," Regan returned. "You know where the phone is, Brian."
As Dr. Frankenbelden started for the stables and Mart headed off for the party raging by the lake, Trixie told the Bob-Whites' equestrian friend about her unbelievable evening. Regan, who'd changed out of his costume, got quite a laugh out of the girl's ghost story, too.
"I hate to break it to you, Trixie," the groom chuckled after the young lady had concluded. "But I think you've been flimflammed. Tom told me he and the boys planned to pull a good one on you tonight. Allen Mahoney is a close friend of Celia's father. They attend the same lodge and often play golf together."
Miss Belden was stunned. Still, she doubted Meat Mahoney's surprise at seeing the letter jacket was a performance. He'd been awfully choked up when the teens had left. "But Regan, what about the picture in the yearbook?" she objected. "I swear, Miss Varsity looked just like Betty."
Again, Regan laughed. "I'm sure she did," he admitted. "But I imagine your Miss Varsity the first was Celia's sister or one of her friends, Trixie. Celia's an excellent makeup artist."
The Wicked Witch of the East had steam coming out of her ears. Celia was a whiz with makeup. Trixie should have remembered that from the Bob-Whites' trip to Cobbett's Island! If those rotten boys had truly put one over on her, why, why…Witchie-Poo swore she'd get even!
The Wicked Witch of the East's stormy attitude blew over as she strolled down to the boathouse with Brian. The winds had dropped, and the sky had cleared. It was the perfect night for a bonfire, and Jim had one doozy going. The blaze's flickering flames were reaching toward the stars. And their orange and gold reflections danced across the peaceful water.
But the lake was the only thing peaceful that evening. On its shores, costumed teens were dancing and laughing, celebrating October's big farewell. A fun time was being had by all.
Regan had gotten Trixie worked up into a lather for nothing. Brian had promised his little sister that that bit with Mr. Mahoney had been no joke. The young man had even sworn he'd do Trixie's chores for a month if he was lying. And that was enough for the young lady. Of all of the boys, Big Brother would have come clean with her.
"That doesn't mean I believe Miss Varsity was Betty's ghost," Brian told his sister as the pair prepared to join the party. "Granted, I didn't get a good look at the girl like you did, Trix. And it is a bit uncanny that the letter jacket turned up after all these years on Halloween. But if I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times before.…"
"There are no such things as ghosts," Miss Belden finished with a giggle. Brian would never change.
The young mad doctor then excused himself as a buddy from school called out to him. So Trixie went looking for Honey and Di. It wasn't difficult to find the girls. The two busy witches were on the patio by the boathouse, reloading galvanized tubs with soft drinks. The young ladies had set up a snack bar at the patio's edge. The tables, covered with black and orange oil clothes, were heaped with hot dogs, buns, and bags of assorted snack chips. Around the help-your-self buffet, people danced to the upbeat music playing on Honey's portable radio.
"Great party!" Trixie hollered over the commotion, joining her two best friends.
"Where have you been?" Honey returned as Di struggled to open a dripping bag of ice. "We'd just about given up on you."
"Oh, we just got delayed at Ignatius Mahoney's house," Trixie said, throwing her hand in the air as if it were no big deal.
Di dropped the ice bag, and cubes went sliding across the dance floor. After the girls had picked them up, Miss Lynch demanded to know more.
"And so you see," Trixie said breathlessly, finishing her recount," Brian thinks it's all some weird coincidence. But Regan's under the impression Mr. Mahoney was in on it, and it was all part of the boys' gag. However, I'm pretty sure Mart's with me on this one. I'm convinced Miss Varsity I and Betty Hanson are the same girl."
"You mean the same real live ghost!" Diana corrected excitedly.
Trixie reached for a can of root beer and popped the top. "That's right, Di, the same real live ghost," she laughed.
Honey shivered. She was ready to get by the fire. "What a tragic love story," she sighed.
About then, Brian and Mart showed up.
"Care to cut the rug?" Mart asked Di.
Diana looked bewildered.
"You know, shag?" the silly scarecrow went on.
The violet-eyed witch gave a pout. "Can't the interior decorating wait until tomorrow?" she asked. "I was hoping you'd ask me to dance, Mart."
As the young people laughed, Mart spun Di onto the patio. "As you 'witch,' my dear," he said.
Brian suggested that he and Honey join the silly pair. But Miss Wheeler hesitated. She was always polite. "Would you mind Trixie?" she asked.
Trixie grinned. "Heavens, no!" she replied. "I'm going to see if I can track down a certain beady-eyed pig-man."
Lost in thought, Miss Belden hummed to herself as she started for the lake shore. Jim had warned the young lady that he'd have to spend most of the night tending the fire. He wouldn't have time for dancing. But Mr. Frayne had also made sure that his best girl knew he wouldn't mind some company if she cared to toast a marshmallow or two. And Trixie couldn't think of anything more wonderful!
Only ringing the fire, the disappointed witch found neither hide nor hair of the redheaded beast. Miss Belden concluded that Jim had likely gone up to Manor House for more firewood. There was plenty of small kindling stacked nearby. But the large pile of seasoned oak the boy had split for the night was dwindling.
So Trixie decided she'd wait for the young man's return and enjoy the warmth of the blaze. The heat felt good on the freckled girl's face. Only it made her drowsy. It had been a wild night, and the young witch worried that she might nod off on her feet. That is until someone whispered in her ear, "Wanna neck?"
Trixie let out a yelp and spun on her toe. "Dan Mangan, you're encourageable!" she shrieked.
Dan chuckled. "Why yes, I am," he admitted. "But I think you mean incorrigible, Trix." Count Von Mangan was again wearing his black cape and plastic fangs.
Witchie-poo giggled. "Well, that too," she said. "But the answer is still no. I don't for goons in capes. Now, bloodsuckers in leather jackets? They're more my style," she teased.
"Just my luck," Dan laughed, snapping his fingers. "Wouldn't you know it? I loaned my jacket to this chick Ben and I met in the parking lot at the pumpkin patch tonight. Ben invited her to the party. The girl was looking for a ride home, and you know how the goober likes to keep the top down on his convertible when he wants to impress people. The chick got so cold she was practically blue."
"I don't suppose this 'chick' has a name," Miss Belden laughed.
Dan looked down and made circles in the grass with the tip of his boot. "We didn't get her name," he confessed sheepishly.
Trixie figured as much. That was boys, for you. "But I suppose she was cute, though?" she said.
"Very," Dan chuckled.
Mr. Mangan wasn't being terribly informative. Trixie suspected he liked the girl. "Well, where's your friend now?" she pressed, looking for a party-goer in a black leather jacket.
Dan shrugged and grabbed a stick to push some stray embers back into the fire. "Home, I guess," he replied. "The girl passed on the shindig, Trix. She said something about needing to be home by ten and asked Ben to drop her off at the foot of her lane. I offered to walk the young lady to the house, but she wouldn't hear of it. She was in a real rush, and like a dumb-head, I forgot to ask for my jacket back when she got out of the car."
Miss Belden suddenly felt queasy. "Describe the girl," she abruptly ordered.
Mr. Mangan had to think. "Like I said, she was cute," he replied. "She had short brown hair and big eyes – though not as big as yours right now," he added with a laugh. "Don't worry, Trix, I'll get my jacket back. I gave the chick my name and phone number. If she doesn't call, I know where she lives."
"Oh, this just keeps getting better and better," Trixie groaned. "Dan, don't you know who the girl was? You and Ben gave a ride to Miss Varsity!"
Dan gave the young lady a push, causing her tall hat to fly off and nearly fall into the bonfire. "You're out of your flipping mind," he said. "She wasn't wearing a letter jacket. That's why I loaned her my leather one, remember?"
Trixie picked up her hat and slapped the boy with it. "Yes, I remember," she hissed. "But you forget, I had the letter jacket. I found it on Betty Hanson's tombstone in the cemetery at the farm, remember?"
Count Von Mangan fell quiet. "Oh, that's right," he said.
The Wicked Witch of the East crammed her hat back on and grabbed the boy's arm. "You better believe it is," she returned snippily. "Now come on, help me find Jim. He's got the keys to the station wagon. We're going to go get your jacket back. What street is the girl's house on?"
"The road sign said Mocking Bird Lane," Dan replied. "It's in that sharp curve out near Mrs. Vanderpoel's cottage."
"Mocking Bird Lane!" Trixie exploded, bringing stares from nearby classmates. Miss Belden lowered her voice. "Dan," she went on with a whisper, "Don't you know? The only thing on Mocking Bird Lane is Rest View Cemetery. Only the dead reside there!"
"Oh, yeah, right," the dark-haired vampire scoffed. "And I suppose you think Miss Varsity is the real Betty Hanson, and I gave my jacket to a ghost. Right, Trix?"
"That's right," Trixie returned, throwing her hands to her hips. "And I intend to prove it. That is if we can find our driver. I thought Jim was supposed to be keeping an eye on the fire tonight?"
Dan chuckled. "He's been keeping an eye on something, alright," he said. "The big pig's over there among Miss Bo Peep's flock of sheep, Trix."
Trixie had been trying to spot Jim's stand-out red hair, but Mr. Frayne had re-donned his hideous mask. "Well, isn't that just swell," she grouched jealously.
"Ah, Trix, you've got nothing to worry about," Mr. Mangan returned. "Just let Jim be. You know what they say. Leave them alone, and they will come home, wagging their tales behind them. Besides, it's too late to be calling on anyone tonight anyway."
Trixie disagreed on both of the Count's counts. "What's the matter, Dan? Are you afraid we'll wake the dead?" she countered, pulling the protesting boy to where Jim was standing. The hardheaded witch planned to prove, one way or the other, that the young vampire and Igor had given a ghost a lift.
Trixie was about to tap the transfixed pig-man on the shoulder when Mark Lippenstift strutted up. "There you are!" the kooky cowpoke crowed. "I was beginning to think you skipped the hoedown, Witchie-Poo. Feel like doing a little dosey doe?"
Jim abruptly turned and stared at the curly-haired young lady. "Witchie-poo?" he said.
"It's my pet name," Trixie returned dryly.
Mr. Pig-man took off his mask, transforming into a green-eyed monster. "Sorry, buckaroo," he told the boy. "The lady promised me the first two-step tonight."
"Maybe later, Mark," Trixie promised.
As Mr. Lippenstift sashayed off, his spurs a jinglin', Miss Belden turned on Jim. "I thought you weren't going to have time to dance tonight," she sniffed. "But then again, I also thought you had to tend the fire," the girl added, glaring at Jennifer Williams.
"Look, Trix, if you want that puffed-up cowpuncher stepping on your toes? Then, be my guest. Go dance with him," Jim returned. "But if not? How about being a good girl and running up to the patio and fetching a couple of hot dog forks. I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry," he added with a grin.
The Wicked Witch of the East was not in the mood to be told what to do. "I've got a better idea," she announced. "Why don't you take out your car keys and come with Dan and me? We need you to run us out to Mocking Bird Lane."
"Mocking Bird Lane?" Jim said. "All that's out there is a neglected cemetery, Trix?"
"See, I told you," Miss Belden told Dan, giving the boy an elbow.
Dan rubbed his side. "Ouch! That hurt," he declared.
"Well, maybe next time you'll listen to me," Trixie said. "So are you going to take us or not?" she went on to ask Jim with a shriek.
Jim stuffed his rubber mask in his hip pocket. "No, I'm not going to take you," he laughed. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a party going on. Why do you want to go out there, anyway, Trix?"
"She thinks I gave my jacket to a ghost," Dan said with a laugh.
"Well, you did," Trixie insisted with a stomp of her foot. Miss Belden then told Jim how Igor and the Count had given Miss Varsity a ride. Trixie finished by filling the boys in on the Belden teens' visit with Mr. Mahoney.
"Gleeps, that's creepy," Jim admitted as his best girl finished.
"That seems to be the word of the day," Dan agreed.
"So, can we go?" Trixie asked anxiously.
Jim hesitated. The bonfire was burning down and needed more wood. The party ended at twelve, and though the witching hour wasn't far away, there was still plenty of time to toast a few marshmallows. The young man needed to go feed the fire's flames. "I don't think so, Trix," he replied. "Obviously, Ben and Dan's new friend doesn't live at the cemetery. I don't know what you expect to find out there?"
Trixie frowned and toed an acorn in the grass. She wasn't prepared to take no for an answer. "I expect to find Dan's jacket," the young detective revealed. "Call it a hunch, but I think Betty left it on her headstone. Mart was telling me she's interred at Rest View."
"You mean like Miss Varsity left Mr. Mahoney's jacked in the cemetery at the pumpkin patch?" Dan asked.
"Exactly," Trixie replied.
Jim hooted, "Now I've heard everything. Pardon me if I seem a little skeptical, Trix, but that's a reach."
Only Dan wasn't quite so sure, and he scratched his head. "Think about it, Jim," he said. "Not that I believe Trixie's Miss Varsity is a ghost. But if the chick was playing games with Ben and me, she might have left my jacket in the cemetery, knowing we'd come looking for it. I think it's worth checking out." Dan wanted his leather bomber back.
But Jim had his mind made up. "I'll tell you what," he said. "I'll run you out there first thing in the morning, Dan. But right now? I need to go stoke the fire. How about lending me a hand?" he went on to ask Trixie.
The wicked witch shook her head. "Sorry, Smokey the Boar. You're on your own," she replied. "I bet Ben will give Dan and me a lift to Rest View if I ask nicely enough. Or better yet, maybe I'll see if Mark Lippenstift would mind. Mark drove his father's pickup to the party tonight. I saw it parked by the garage. I imagine it'll be nice and cozy in the cab."
Mr. Frayne grumbled and pulled out his key chain. "Go get in the car," he told his two friends. "I'll be there in a second. Honestly, Trixie Belden, the things you talk me into."
As Jim headed for the boathouse to ask Brian to watch over things while he was gone, Mart and Di came down the hill.
"What's up, Trix?" Mart asked before his sister and Dan had time to slip away. "Jim was muttering some rather colorful language as he passed by."
Trixie groaned. She didn't have time for questions. "Jim's agreed to take Dan and me out to Rest View cemetery," she explained hurriedly. "It's a long story, Mart. But really, Dan and I have got to go. I'll tell you all about it when I get back."
At the word cemetery, the witch with the long raven hair had begun bubbling with excitement. "Oh, can I come with you?!" Di cried. "I've never been to a cemetery on Halloween night before. Why, I bet it's just filled with spooky spooks!" Mart expressed his interest in going, too.
Dan chuckled. "Why not?" he replied. "We'll just take the party with us. Is that OK with you, Trix?"
"The more, the scarier," Miss Belden decided, laughing.
Jim slowed the Bob-White station wagon to a crawl as he prepared to turn right onto Mocking Bird Lane. "We'll have to make this fast," he warned his carload of hyped-up passengers. "Mart, do you know approximately where Betty's grave is supposed to be?"
"I hear it's near the mausoleum," the scarecrow returned, hanging over the seat.
The car was still loaded with props from the hayride. Miss Belden's brother and Di were sharing the backseat with Regan's headless dummy. Trixie was in front, squashed between Jim and Dan.
"You take the first left after passing through the wrought iron gates," Di confirmed. "The caretaker leaves them open twenty-four seven. At least, that's what Virginia Thomas told me. She saw Betty sitting on the steps of the mausoleum one night."
"Don't tell me," Dan snickered, returning Trixie's earlier elbow. "She knew it was Betty because she was wearing the letter jacket."
"That's right," Diana insisted.
Jim chuckled as he pulled the long car through Rest View Cemetery's somber arch. The graveyard was darker than dark and quieter than quiet. Stillness ruled supreme, and Trixie's entire body tingled with electricity. Witchie-Poo had stowed her tall, pointed hat in the back of the vehicle, and the good witch feared her hair was standing on end like the Bride of Frankenbelden's.
As Jim flipped on the car's brights, not wanting to miss his turn, the headlamps created a wormhole of light directly in front of the station wagon. The effect made Miss Belden feel claustrophobic. Adding to her discomfort, the teens' clothes reeked of wood smoke, making the air in the cramped compartment nearly suffocating. Trixie asked Dan to roll down the window. It was chilly, but she noticed Jim followed suit.
"That's our turn by the willow," Di said, building the heavy oppression in the car.
Mr. Frayne thanked his backseat navigator and took the left. That's when Trixie spotted the marble mausoleum up ahead. As they grew closer, Betty Hanson's headstone came into view. Miss Belden had no doubt it was the girl's. It was the only marker with a black jacket tossed over it.
"Great googly-moogly," Dan uttered with astonishment as Jim killed the engine. "Looks like you were right, Trix."
The Wicked Witch of the East was tempted to say, "I told you so." But she didn't. The teenagers were quiet as they exited the car and wandered up to the polished granite stone.
The only noise came from the shutter of Di's cell phone as she took pictures. Miss Lynch hoped to capture a shot of the ghostly Miss Hanson. The other Bob-Whites were just interested in retrieving Dan's jacket.
As soon as Count Von Mangan had it in hand, Trixie whispered, "Rest in peace, Betty," and Jim ushered the young people back to the station wagon. Miss Belden was sure that if the teenagers hadn't found the black bomber, Miss Hanson would have been spotted trying to return it next Halloween.
Once inside the car, Di began scrolling through her photos and let out a squeal. "Look! " she cried, excitedly thrusting the phone up front. "I think I caught Betty!"
Jim laughed as he turned the vehicle's ignition over. "That orb above the tombstone?" he hooted. "That's just a dust particle, Di."
Miss Lynch pursed her lips and continued to scroll. "Well, what about in this one?" she asked as Jim backed the station wagon around. "It must be her."
This time, it was Count Von Mangan who chuckled. The pig-man was too busy driving to give his opinion. "I'm afraid that white wisp is your breath," he said.
"Oh, but it can't be!" the young lady declared, flopping back in her seat. "I always hold my breath when I'm taking pictures, Dan. It keeps me from shaking."
Trixie sighed and told her pretty friend she might as well give it up. "The boys are never going to believe in ghosts, Di," she said.
Mart let out a whoop. "The last time I checked, Moi was still of the male gender," he announced. "I must confess I'm convinced that Miss Lynch has captured compelling evidence that Miss Varsity was not only Betty Hanson but also an apparition."
"Why, thank you, Mart," Di returned, batting her long lashes at the blushing scarecrow.
The other young men in the car snorted, and for that matter, so did Mr. Belden's sister. Trixie had to wonder if she'd been the one taking pictures if Mart would have been so quick to come to her defense. But no matter, the young people had accomplished what they'd come for. It was time to return to the festivities at home.
Huddling close together at the fire's edge, Trixie and Jim finally had time to toast those marshmallows. The gooey treats were yummy-yum, but as far as Trixie was concerned, her special friend's companionship was even more delicious. But Miss Belden knew it must be getting late. The waning hunter's moon had moved higher in the sky, and the temperature had dropped close to freezing.
"What time have you got?" she asked the redheaded young man.
Jim removed his long-handled fork from the flames and blew on the smoldering confection at the end of it. Handing the fork to the girl, the sighing boy checked his watch. "I'm afraid it's about time you were hopping on your broomstick," he told Witchie-Poo sadly. "What a night!" the young man added.
Trixie giggled as she pulled the sticky marshmallow from the fork's prongs and popped it into Jim's mouth. "What a night indeed!" she thought. But then the Wicked Witch of the East smirked. The party might be breaking up, but the night wasn't quite over. Nope, not quite yet...
As hoof beats were heard on the bridle path which ran through the woods surrounding the lake, Mark Lippenstift dropped his hotdog into the fire. "What…what… what's that?" the young cowboy stammered, making Trixie grin. It turned out the big-mouthed bronco buster was afraid of horses.
"It's the Headless Hessian of the Hollow!" Little Bo Peep wailed as the black rider and his mighty stallion burst into the clearing and began galloping the young people's way.
As the girl's startled flock of sheep scattered, the Halloween Rough Rider raised his glowing pumpkin head and tossed it into the fire, causing sparks to rise. "Party's over!" the horseman roared, ending with an evil laugh.
As the partygoers fled up the hill, some laughing, some shrieking, a giggling Honey and Di ran after the young people to see them off.
The boys of the Bob-Whites and Ben howled with laughter. The young men hadn't been expecting the Headless Horseman's final curtain call.
"Good one, Uncle Regan!" Dan called after the departing dark menace.
"What do you mean, a good one?" the long-legged groom returned, strolling up to the boys. "Time you were putting out the fire, fellas," he added.
Trixie, lingering nearby in the shadows, suppressed a giggle. The young men looked like a herd of deer caught in a semi's headlights.
"If you're here…?" Brian mumbled, scratching his head.
"Then who was that?" Jim gasped.
Mart gulped, shaking in his boots. "Dare Moi suggest a real live ghost?!" he ventured.
Ben didn't say anything. He simply stood staring at Regan with his mouth hanging open.
Only the aggravated groom had had his fill. "OK, fellas, that's enough nonsense," he said. "Now go fetch some water, and like I said, get this fire out, and I mean pronto."
As the stunned boys headed for the shoreline with plastic buckets, Trixie pulled Regan aside. "Thanks, Regan, I owe you one," she said. "When you see Mr. Maypenny, please tell him I said thank you, too."
"Sure will," Regan laughed. "But I had better be going, Trixie. I want to be sure that ornery old codger makes it back to the stables alright. Jupiter is no Brownie, you know." Mr. Maypenny's beloved Brownie was gentler than Ichabod's plow horse, Gunpowder.
The Wicked Witch of the East again giggled. She'd be doing it for the rest of the evening. "Happy Halloween, Regan!" Trixie cried in parting.
"Happy Halloween, Trixie!" the red-haired groom returned.
Author's Note: Witch-ing you a happy Halloween! Thank you for reading!