Chapter 6: Terrible News
"Did you know that Mrs. Vanderpoel has joined The Church of Mary of Magdala?" Trixie asked her mother, tossing the church's flyer into the kitchen recycle bin.
Trixie's parents and Brian had been late getting home. It turned out that the station wagon had needed more than just a jump start. It'd needed a whole new battery. Moms had not left a car door ajar – which was good news for Moms. But bad news for Daddy and Brian, who'd had to swap out the depleted cell with one they'd picked up at the automotive store.
While her parents had been gone, Miss Belden had skimmed through the brochure and found it sadly unremarkable. The small booklet mainly contained quotes from scripture, entwined with lovely pastel images of flowers, doves, and the like. Trixie supposed the material was nice, but it was hardly provocative.
The circular began, "The Church of Mary of Magdala—reclaiming God's truth through verse since 2003." The booklet went on to paint Reverend Moore as a humble woman filled with the Holy Spirit. The literature mentioned nothing about Mary Magdalene having wed Jesus and given birth to his child. Nor did it say that the Reverend was heir to this divine bloodline. No, the pamphlet was not too unlike every other church bulletin Trixie had come across.
In a section entitled "Why I like my church", the congregation had repeatedly described the fellowship as friendly and casual. People found the Reverend's sermons healing and uplifting. In fact, Mrs. Vanderpoel was quoted as saying, "I used to dread getting up on Sunday morning and dragging my tired old body to church. Since becoming a member of the Church of Mary, I literally bounce out of bed when the alarm goes off!"
Trixie giggled, picturing the plump older woman dressed in her nightgown, tossing back her quilt, singing joyous hymns.
Moms and Daddy had shown no interest in attending the Church of Mary's Sunday service when their daughter had told them of the invite. The Beldens were members of the Methodist church, and though they weren't regular churchgoers, they did attend services now and then, such as on Christmas and Easter.
There was a time when the close-knit family would have been the first among the Methodist pews. Moms had sung in the choir back then. But as the children grew and their school and club activities increased, the Beldens began singing most of their praises at home.
"Mart says Tad and Spider are members of the church, too," Trixie went on to tell her mother.
"So I hear," Mrs. Belden replied as she put away the groceries she'd picked up at the Jiggly Piggly. "Pastor Brown's wife was telling me that Mountain View Methodist Church has lost a number of their congregation to The Church of Mary of Magdala. Your great grandpa Willy would roll over in his grave if he knew his old lodge was housing a church led by a female reverend. The Catamounts had a strict policy banning women from the building," Moms added with a chuckle.
"I didn't know that Great Grampa Willy was a Catamount," Trixie said with surprise, moving to the counter and thumbing through her mother's recipe file. Honey had asked Trixie to make copies of Mrs. Belden's best Christmas cookie recipes. Miss Wheeler had designated Friday "Baking Day" at Manor House. The Bob-Whites would need plenty of sweets to munch on while they trimmed the tree on Saturday. Decorating the tree was to be the week's big finale.
"Your great-grandpa Willy was not only a Catamount but Exalted Lion," Moms returned with a wee smirk as she shut the refrigerator's vegetable bin. "When I was a little girl, I used to pester him unmercifully, hoping he'd show me the fraternity's secret handshake. The lodge had all kinds of mysterious ceremonies and practices. There was even rumored to be a body in a glass coffin in the building's basement. The skeletal remains were referred to as 'Norman' though no one outside the Catamounts knew who Norman was or if that was really his name."
Trixie momentarily forgot all about the Reverend Moore. "Gleeps!" she excitedly exclaimed, pulling a handful of blank recipe cards from the back of the file. "Maybe Honey and I can discover Norman's true identity, Moms! Do you think his coffin might still be stashed somewhere in the church's basement?"
Mrs. Belden sighed as her intrigued daughter took a seat at the table and began jotting down the ingredients needed for Grandma Belden's Ginger Snaps. Moms should have known better than to bring up Norman. "You and Honey have enough on your plate decorating the mansion," she reminded Trixie. "You can just forget I mentioned that dusty old skeleton, young lady."
Miss Belden grinned and wiped her drippy nose when her mother wasn't looking. Forgetting about Norman would be like trying to stuff the cat back into the bag – all but impossible. "You know, Moms," the young lady announced after hiding her tattle-tale tissue in a sleeve of her sweater. "It's probably a good thing we aren't attending The Church of Mary's services tomorrow."
Moms eyed her daughter suspiciously. "Why's that?" she asked.
Trixie giggled and reached for another recipe card. "I'd probably be tempted to sneak off during the Reverend Moore's sermon to look for Norman," the serious young lady confessed.
Moms laughed as she folded up the last of the reusable shopping bags. "You and me both," Mrs. Belden admitted, guiltily.
"Oh, Honey! That's terrible news!" Trixie exclaimed later that evening, collapsing into her father's favorite easy chair. "Whatever are we going to do?" The distraught girl began mindlessly wrapping the telephone's curly chord around her finger. She'd been waiting on pins and needles for her best friend's call. Only Trixie never expected this!
Mart, who'd been lounging on the living room floor watching TV with his older brother, sat up lickety-split. "What's terrible?!" he interrupted, the blood rushing from his face. "Don't tell Moi the gig is off?"
Trixie placed her hand over the phone's mouthpiece and shook her head. "No, everything's a go," she told her relieved brother. "Only don't tell Bobby," Miss Belden added, dropping her voice, "but True-Savings has sold out of gnomes in the domes. The store manager told Jim he'd try to have one transferred in from another location. However, Mr. Weinberg also told Jim not to get his hopes up. The stores only got three each. True-Savings had no idea how popular the silly things would be."
Brian winced and rose to his feet. Bobby, upstairs taking a bath, hadn't stopped talking about the inflatable displays. The heart-set child would be crushed if Jim couldn't get his hands on one. Sure, Bob would get over it. But there were bound to be a lot of angry I-told-you-sos, first.
"Let me speak to Honey," Brian said, reaching for the receiver. Brian knew the pretty girl had to be feeling awful about the unexpected turn of events. Honey had promised Bobby that the Wheelers would have one of the glowing globes. Brian wanted to put Honey's mind at ease – assure her the little boy wouldn't be scarred for life if Jim couldn't get one. The sensitive young lady tended to worry about such things.
"Big Brother wants to bend your ear, so I'm going to go," Trixie told her best friend, preparing to hand over the telephone. "We'll talk more in the morning, Hon. You'll never believe what Moms told me this afternoon. It'll knock your socks off!" The girls had a date to exercise the Wheeler's horses on Sunday. They'd stop off at Mr. Lytell's country store and pick up copies of the Sleepyside Sun while out.
"I have something rather surprising to tell you, too," Miss Wheeler admitted on the other end of the line. "But if you plan on leaving me hanging, then you can just dangle too, Trixie Belden," she added devilishly.
Trixie chuckled, wondering what was up, but surrendered the phone to Brian. She and Mart then headed off upstairs. The weary girl to read Bobby his bedtime story, and Mart to fill out the order form for the B.W.G.s' holiday greenery. Neither teen planned to inform their youngest brother that True-Savings had sold out of ginormous gnomes in the domes. They'd wait and see if Mr. Weinberg could get one in before breaking the bad news to Bob.
In the meantime, Trixie had a sneaky plan up her sleeve. Tonight's nighty-night narrative was going to be Randolph the Infrared Reindeer. Bobby could beg until he was blue in the face, but The Gnome in the Dome would stay on the shelf with Elvin the Elf and Alfie. The child's big sister had no intention of reading him the tired tale yet again. "Nope, I won't do it! Not in a zillion years!" the young lady swore with a sniff of her nose.
With any luck, come morning? Bobby would be obsessed with the Abysmal Snow Beast. Gerome the Gnome, all but forgotten.
Slipping between the sheets at nine, Trixie wished that she could forget Gerome Gnome. Gerome, the Abysmal Snow Beast, and all of the other lovely sugar plums dancing in her head. Reaching to snap off the bed stand light, Miss Belden's body ached, and her eyes were heavy. It was going to be difficult to sleep for many reasons.
Trixie could no longer deny that she'd caught a bug of some sort. Her dripping nose was getting stopped up, and the troubled girl felt heavy - as if her arms and legs had been poured of cement. Every movement took extra effort. Why, just turning off the lamp had used up the last of her strength.
Still, Trixie was bound and determined she wouldn't let a little old cold get the better of her. With extra rest and a hefty dose of orange juice in the morning, Miss Belden was sure she'd be fit as a fiddle come Monday. Decorating Manor House with her friends was going to be a blast!
But come twelve am, the miserable teen was still wide awake, and as the mantle clock downstairs chimed the ungodly hour, Trixie lost her count of sheep. Miss Belden had given up on getting comfortable. With her pillow propped up against her headboard, the fatigued girl had been half sitting, half-reclining, just so she could breathe.
Trixie had to do something!
Throwing off her blanket, she exchanged it for her robe. What Miss Belden planned next was risky. Trixie would be grounded for life if Moms or Daddy were to catch her. But that was the chance the desperate teenager was willing to take. If her parents were to discover that she was sick? Trixie would be as good as grounded anyway.
So, sneaking from her room, down the steps the young lady went, carefully feeling out each one with her bare toes. Trixie hadn't put on her slippers. The fretting girl worried they might make too much noise or, worse, that the floppy dust mops might cause her to trip.
Only halfway down the stairs, something brushed past Trixie's legs in the darkness, and the startled girl nearly lost her balance just the same. Letting out a quiet yelp, Miss Belden grasped the banister railing for dear life. Then she cursed Reddy.
Once safely on ground level, the angry girl took the big dog by the collar and yanked him to the kitchen. Trixie didn't want any more surprises, nor did she want him scratching on the front door or barking to go out, which might wake up the family. To keep the ruddy brute quiet, she gave him a couple of treat biscuits from a crock on the counter, then hesitantly turned on the light over the sink.
As Reddy crunched away at his midnight snack, Trixie dragged Moms' step-stool to the refrigerator. Miss Belden's parents kept the family's over-the-counter medicines in the cupboard above the icebox – high out of reach of tiny hands. Not even Brian was permitted in off-limits hide-a-way. Trixie's mother and father were the only ones allowed to dole out medicine.
But desperate times called for desperate measures, so up the step-stool the young lady went. Trixie knew precisely what she was looking for. Moms kept the cupboard well stocked with daytime and nighttime cold and flu remedies for the winter months. Bobby's cold medications were fruit-flavored liquids, but Miss Belden had recently graduated to capsules.
Trixie found what she was looking for behind the pink upset stomach medicine. There was an unopened box of 24 orange liquid gels for the day and another package of green for nighttime. Miss Belden figured she'd need both. The last time she was sick, Moms gave her one capsule every six hours, which seemed to do the trick. So, opening up the boxes, Trixie slid one sleeve of 12 capsules out of each package and stuffed them into her bathrobe pocket. That should do her for the week. Trixie was never sick for long.
Carefully returning the boxes to their original location, the young lady felt confident she wouldn't be found out. By the time someone else needed the medicine, Moms would have forgotten how many doses they had.
Now, all Trixie had to do was get back to bed without waking her parents. She'd take a pill when she got upstairs. Miss Belden kept a glass of water on her nightstand.
Trixie slept the rest of the night like a baby. In fact, she was on the verge of oversleeping when a car backfired out on Glen Road. Hearing it, Miss Belden bolted up in bed, thinking she'd been shot. In her sleep, the young detective had been wrestling with Dan Mangan over a gun. She'd caught Mr. Mangan in the act of stealing Mr. Lynch's inflatable gnome in the dome.
The green gel cap had definitely done its job, but it had some intense side effects. The medication had not only given the young lady wild dreams but also left Trixie feeling mighty groggy.
Shaking her head to clear it, Miss Belden giggled at the silliness of her wake-up call. Only that giggle came out more as a phlegmy gurgle. The congested girl would need to avoid Moms and Brian as much as she could today. They'd be the first of her family to notice that she was under the weather.
But dodging the scrutinizing pair shouldn't be difficult. Unlike the girl's older brothers, the young lady still needed to pack for the week ahead. Plus, Trixie would be out riding with Honey this morning—that is if the teenager could will herself out from beneath her warm covers.
For some reason, the room felt unusually chilly, and Trixie shivered as she swung her legs off the mattress. The young lady wondered if perhaps her father had forgotten to adjust the thermostat when he'd gotten up. That, or the temperature outside, had fallen below zero overnight. Crabapple Farm's clunky furnace had difficulty keeping up when Old Man Winter whistled his worst. Either way, Miss Belden would need to dress warmly if she didn't want to get sicker.
Heading to her bureau for her heaviest rag-wool sweater, Trixie decided she really didn't feel all that bad. She'd hold off taking an orange pill until she got home from the stables. It was possible that the young lady wouldn't need the daytime medication at all. Trixie was still under the influence of the green pill. Maybe when it wore off, she'd be feeling hunky-dory again?
It was wishful thinking on the hopeful girl's part.
A piece of toast and a glass of OJ later, Trixie, bundled from head to toe, hiked the hill to Manor House. Overnight, the wind had whipped dry snow over the Wheeler's driveway, leaving it covered in an inch of powder. It was one of those peaceful mornings where the world sparkled, and the birds rejoiced.
Only to Miss Belden's surprise, she wasn't the first one out on this crisp new day. A lone motorist had already paid the Wheelers a visit. Trixie was sure Regan would have cleared the drive before he or Tom ventured out.
Walking in the fresh tire tracks, Miss Belden scratched her head with dismay when the impressions veered into the ditch midway to the stables. True, the steep, winding hill could be treacherous when it was slick. Brian's jalopy frequently had difficulty making the climb. But it didn't appear to Detective Belden that the driver of the unknown vehicle had gone into a skid. There were no ruts in the road where the car's tires had spun or evidence that it had fishtailed.
That's when Trixie remembered the backfire that had awoken her. Maybe the automobile had broken down? Only if so, where was it now?
Strolling over to where the car had stopped, Miss Belden noticed a single set of footprints leading up and down the yard. The young detective was puzzled why the stranded motorist hadn't stuck to the driveway. The lawn was knee-deep with snow, and trekking to the house would be difficult without snow shoes.
On any other day, Miss Belden would have followed the footprints. She was still tempted to. But helping Honey exercise the horses was going to be workout enough. Trixie had already decided to ask Regan if she could ride Lady today. Mrs. Wheeler's gentle mare would go easy on the less-than-glowing girl.
Trixie was retracing her own footsteps when she heard the blare of a siren coming her way. The young lady's trained ears told her this was no bawling wail of an ambulance or the distinctive shrill of a fire truck. The tingling teen recognized the yelp of a squad car when she heard it!
As Spider Webster's black and white flew up the drive, Trixie jumped back to avoid getting hit. Miss Belden wondered if the hell-bent officer had even noticed her in his path. Something had happened at Manor House, and Trixie lit a fire under it, anxious to find out what. No minor head cold was going to slow her down now. Her giddy-up had found its go!