The sun was streaming brilliantly through the window the next morning, waking Trixie as its harsh glare fell across her face. Groaning, she rolled over, drawing the covers up over her head. After a moment, finding that an attempt at more sleep was futile with the amount of noise drifting in through the open door, Trixie unearthed from her blanket nest and turned to look at Honey’s bed. She grinned when she saw Honey’s still-sleeping form stretched out, one arm flung over her head, the other hanging over the side of the bed, snoring softly.

Turning and grabbing a pillow from her own bed, Trixie lobbed it straight at Honey, hitting her square in the face. Sputtering, Honey sat bolt upright, staring around wildly.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Trixie called to her. "A fine way to sleep through the alarm clock."

Honey blinked sleepily, then flopped back down onto her pillow, pulling the covers over her head. "Why must you be so cruel?" came the muffled response.

Trixie smirked and jumped out of her own bed. "It’s nearly ten, old girl, and by the sound- and smell- of things, breakfast is ready."

Honey emerged from under her blankets. "Would you be so kind as to bring me a tray of food up as I relax in my wonderfully cozy and warm bed?"

Trixie snorted.

"Didn’t think so," Honey giggled. Slowly, she made her way out of bed, and as the girls sleepily changed into clothes, Trixie paused and turned to look out the misted window. Cliffedge Manor loomed ominously above them, half obscured in the fog. Still beckoning to Trixie, she pressed her nose against the glass, wondering what kind of secrets it held. "Let’s go," Honey yawned from the doorway. Trixie turned reluctantly from the window and the two girls headed downstairs for breakfast.

"Alas! The two maidens at last emerge from their living quarters, following a restful night of slumber, ravenous for their repast, only to find that the he-men who awoke several hours earlier have consumed not only their own meals, but the maiden’s rations as well!" Mart proclaimed as Trixie and Honey shuffled into the dining room.

"Shut up, Mart," Trixie said groggily, sitting down beside him. Everyone had already gathered at the table and was feasting on the eggs, bacon, popovers, and fresh fruit lay down before them.

Beside Trixie, Jim sat, keeping his eyes down on his plate. Trixie shifted uncomfortably; she was feeling distinctly awkward with him since the scene he had made in the stable the day before.

"Sorry to eat and run," Mr. Wheeler said apologetically, rising, "but I have a few business phone calls to make…"

"Matt!" Mrs. Wheeler wailed. "On your vacation?"

Mr. Wheeler chucked. "Vacation? What’s that?" he joked, leaning over to kiss his wife’s cheek. "It won’t take long, I promise, and as soon as I’m done, we’ll take a drive into town." He wished them all farewell and disappeared back upstairs.

"What are you kids planning on doing today?" Elizabeth asked, pouring a glass of orange juice for Honey.

"I’m taking the guys into town," Bill told his mother. "I need to pick some stuff up at the general store. You girls," he added, turning to them, "are welcome to come along, if you like."

Trixie started to tell him she would love to go with, but Mrs. Wheeler jumped in. "I was hoping the girls would stay and help with the charity bazaar today." She beamed at Trixie and Honey.

"Bazaar?" Honey repeated, stifling another yawn. "What bazaar?"

"The church in town has one every summer, everyone donates their old things and the profits are given to various charities," Elizabeth answered. "But the girls don’t have to help today, if they don’t want to, Maddie, I’ve already gotten so much done-"

"We’d love to help," Honey said firmly. Trixie nodded in agreement.

"Oh, how lovely. Well, let’s see… the attic needs cleaned out next, I suppose, why don’t you girls work on that, I’m fairly certain anything that’s up there can go. Just bring whatever you think should be given to the sale downstairs, and I’ll go through it later… Maddie and I will continue with the basement. You know Maddie," Elizabeth continued, slipping her arm through Mrs. Wheeler’s and leading her away, "there are some boxes down there that belonged to our great-grandmother, and I’ve never even gone through them…"

"You don’t say…"

Their voices faded as they wandered out of the dining room and down the hall.

Bill, looking vastly disappointed the girls were not going to be accompanying them, turned to Mart, Jim and Ben and asked, "Well, are you men ready to head out?"

"One more bite of toast," Mart said through a mouthful of eggs.

"Mart, one day you are going to weigh five hundred pounds," Jim predicted, poking him with a butter knife, "and you aren’t going to be able to walk, and you’re going to do nothing but sit in front of the TV and eat cheese doodles all day long."

Mart shrugged. "A guy can dream, can’t he?"

Ben snickered at this. "What, you mean he doesn’t do that now?" he asked sarcastically.

Trixie glared at him. "I’ll have you know that Mart works very hard, and gets plenty of exercise, and-"

"Drinks eight glasses of water a day, and takes his vitamins, and always finishes his vegetables…" Ben continued, mimicking Trixie.

Jim turned to Ben and growled, "If you’re going to be rude to my friends, have the sense to do so where I can’t hear you."

"Jim," Honey said warningly.

Jim looked abashed. "I’m sorry," he said, turning to Gary. "I’m not a very polite guest."

Gary roared with laughter. "Don’t worry about it, my boy," he said, slapping Jim on the shoulder. "Plenty of Bill’s friends that come around here have been much worse, believe me."

Bill grinned at his father. "True, and that would be why they got kicked out of the house so many times. Anyway, we had better get going. I’ll drive the BMW," he told the other guys as they trooped out the back door.

Trixie gave them a feeble wave, then turned immediately to Gary as soon as they were gone. "About Cliffedge Manor…" she began casually. Ignoring Honey’s look, she plowed on, "What…er… what exactly were the circumstances of the… event… that, er, took place there… a few years ago?"

Gary fixed her with a hard stare for a moment, then shrugged and took a sip of coffee. "I don’t suppose there’s any harm in telling you, since it happened so long ago. Just do me a favor and don’t tell Elizabeth I told you. She’d roast me."

"We won’t," Honey promised him, now as eager as Trixie. "Go on, uncle Gary… what happened?"

Gary leaned back, frowning. "Well, I don’t really recall all the details, but it was about ten years ago. The Martins have been living up at Cliffedge Manor for as long as I can remember. There’s old Jonathan, he must be near eighty years old, his grandson, John Jr., and I think he’s around thirty-five, forty, nowadays, and of course," Gary scowled, "David, the lying, murdering, son of a-"

"David," Trixie broke in hastily, "is he a Martin, too?"

Gary shrugged. "Only by marriage. Old Jonathan, he had a daughter. Margaret, I think her name was. Don’t know what happened to her. David was married to her, and they had two kids, John and of course, James."

"James was the boy who was killed?" Honey asked breathlessly.

"Yeah, but he wasn’t much of a boy," Gary said. "Near thirty years old when David murdered him."

"Thirty?" Trixie repeated, surprised. "I thought he was just a child."

Gary shook his head. "Damn good thing he wasn’t, or else I’d expect the entire town of Stonewall would have been ready to lynch David when he was caught. They were all plenty upset as it was. As they should be," Gary added, glowering once more. "What happened was disgusting, despicable, and David Martin should be shot, just like he shot his son."

"So there’s no doubt that David did murder his son," Trixie said thoughtfully.

"There were some doubts," Gary admitted. "The police, for one. They got some kind of hard evidence on David, found something that belonged to him just lying around the murder scene. A locket or something, I think it was."

"A locket?" Honey said, fascinated.

"Yeah," Gary replied, clearly enjoying his audience. "Some kind of wedding locket from him and his wife’s wedding. Had wedding pictures in it, and lockets of their hair braided in it. Had an engraving on it, too- their names and the wedding date. So there was no question of who’s it was," he added.

"And David got convicted," Trixie mused.

"Well, no," Gary said. "He was arrested after the locket was found, but before they could give him a trial and convict him, the locket disappeared."

"What- it was stolen?" Trixie asked, startled.

"I thought David got convicted," Honey added, equally surprised.

Gary shook his head. "Nope, the man never got sentenced. They kept him locked up for as long as they could, mind you, but without the locket, the police had nothing on him, and had to let him go. It’s a federal offense or something to keep him locked up without the evidence," he said, waving a hand as if brushing the law aside, as though that shouldn’t have stopped the police force from keeping David incarcerated. "I’m betting anything the little jerk had someone swipe it for him," he added, scowling.

"And David got released and continued his normal life up at Cliffedge Manor," Trixie concluded.

"Exactly," Gary said. "He’s been living up there ever since, acting like nothing ever happened, and half the town is living down in the valley in fear, afraid he might snap one day and kill someone else, the other half just plain pissed that a chap like that would get away with murder. I tell you," he finished, "that guy is a menace and I would personally shake the hand of the one who could put him away for good."

Trixie nodded thoughtfully. "What ever happened to the mother- Margaret, you said her name was?"

Gary shrugged. "No idea. She took off years before I ever came to Anduril Hall. Never met the woman, myself. Elisa, though- she was right friendly with her. One reason she took it so hard when James Martin was killed. Now, mind, James had been gone for a good while, too, before he turned up dead in Cliffedge Manor’s barn. In fact," Gary continued musingly, "if I’m not mistaken, James left with Margaret way back when she took off. He couldn’t have been more than a child at the time. Why he ever came back here is beyond me. Unless David found him and forced him to come back."

"Kidnapping?" Honey gasped. "The police didn’t even bother to check up on this angle?"

Gary sighed and pushed his chair back from the table. Standing up, he replied, "I have no idea what the police know or do not know. All I know is that David Martin killed his son and got away with it. The bastard should be rotting away in prison for what he did, and instead he is lounging around the mansion on the hill, scrubbing off his father-in-law’s money. And now, girls," he concluded, turning towards the door, "I have many things to get done today, so if you will excuse me, I will see you at dinner." He quickly exited the dining room, leaving Trixie and Honey sitting alone at the immense table, staring at each other over the empty plates and bowls of fruit.

*   *   *  

"It all comes down to this," Trixie said, blowing a loose curl off of her forehead. "David Martin was going to be convicted for murdering his son, but the evidence to sentence him disappeared. Someone most likely stole it-"

"But we can’t assume that," Honey interrupted.

The girls were up in the attic of Andruil Hall, going through the numerous boxes and chests spread across the dust covered wooden floor. True to their word, they had headed up there as soon as they finished breakfast, and were searching the dimly lit room for anything that could be given to the charity bazaar. Their attentions, however, remained firmly wrapped up in the history of Cliffedge Manor.

Trixie presently stared at Honey in disbelief. "Are you trying to say that the police would actually lose the locket by accident? Come on, no police department, no matter how small town, could be that thick."

"We can’t rule it out, though," Honey persisted. "The police would have investigated further if theft was likely. It seems to me that they, as much as the rest of this town, wanted to see David get convicted. If they thought that he had paid someone to steal it for him, they would have surely scrutinized the possibility until they hunted down whomever had done so."

"That’s true," Trixie admitted, dropping to her knees to rifle through an old chest full of clothes. "And if it were an inside job, it would have been awful hard to prove."

"You mean someone on the police force could have stolen the locket," Honey breathed.

Trixie nodded. "Just a possibility, of course. What I’m wondering," she continued thoughtfully, "is what James was doing back in the town of Stonewall, if he had left when he was only a child. And why did Margaret leave in the first place? Where is she now, I wonder? It seems to me that she should have been a suspect, too. After all, it was probably her locket that was found in the barn."

"Oh, Trix, you’re right!" Honey exclaimed. "It must have been her locket, but why would Margaret have come back at all to Stonewall?"

Trixie held her palms up in a hopeless gesture. "The same reason James came back? Oh, golly," she sighed in frustration, slamming the chest lid closed. "This is getting more and more complicated."

Honey looked around the attic. "We shouldn’t even bother with this mystery, Trix. It’s completely out of our hands, and we really ought to concentrate on helping Aunt Elizabeth with the sale. We’re not getting much accomplished sitting around up here talking about something that happened years and years ago…"

"But, Honey," Trixie interrupted, "a man was murdered! And the man who murdered him was never even brought to justice! Can you imagine," she continued excitedly, grabbing Honey’s arm, "if we found out who stole the locket, and we got David convicted? The entire town of Stonewall would love us. It would be great for our detective agency, once we open it. We really have to start thinking about the future, Honey, now that we’re out of high school." Trixie finished firmly. There’s at least one aspect of my future I don’t mind thinking about, she thought, but didn’t voice out loud.

Honey looked apprehensive. "I don’t know, Trixie. This is murder we’re talking about. We haven’t dealt with anything that serious yet. Plus, all this happened so long ago. I wouldn’t even know where to begin investigating. And, what makes you think we can solve this mystery, when the entire police force was stumped for years?"

"Oh, Honey," Trixie cried, "you know as well as I do that we’ve solved mysteries even the FBI couldn’t crack."

Honey smiled at that. " ‘When the Feds give up, we take over,’" she quoted softly. "Let’s figure this out later, ok? We really need to collect at least a few things for the bazaar."

Trixie sighed. "Ok," she said, dropping to her knees to rummage through a carton, "let’s just work for awhile. You take those boxes over there."

Honey obediently began delving into the box’s contents, then looked up with a giggle. "Look at what I found, Trix," she said, brandishing an object around in the air. "It’s a picture from Mother and Daddy’s wedding."

Trixie burst into laughter when she saw it. "Your dad looks like a red-headed Don Johnson."

Honey, still poking through the carton, gasped. "Trixie! Look! It’s the complete set of the old Lucy Radcliffe novels!"

Trixie dropped the picture and rushed to Honey’s side. Peering eagerly into the box, she drew in her breath as thirty-nine glossy, hard-backed volumes came into view. "Oh, oh," Trixie sighed in ecstasy. "Lucy, in all her mint-condition glory!"

Honey giggled. "I wonder who was a fan of these?" she questioned, running a hand over the spine of Adventures in Paris.

"Whoever it was," Trixie announced, "they are not going to make the huge mistake of giving them away to a bazaar. Lucy is going to stay right here, until someone else finds them and has the joy of reading them like we did."

Honey nodded solemnly and closed the box with a ceremonial flourish. "Why don’t you work on that huge chest over there in the corner. It looks kind of… mysterious." She smiled to herself as Trixie’s gaze fell upon the chest and her eyes lit up.

The girls continued working into the afternoon, occasionally exclaiming and giggling over their discoveries. Taking a break only for lunch, they had a considerable pile of baby toys, old clothes, furniture, and an odd assortment of junk to give to the church’s bazaar by the time dinner rolled around.

"One box left," Trixie puffed, lugging a carton full of old records to the attic door. She brushed a curl exasperatedly off her moist forehead and surveyed the attic critically. "We got rid of a lot, didn’t we? The church should be happy with us."

Honey dropped down beside the last remaining box. "Looks like…" she rummaged through the chest, "more old clothes… bottles of perfume…ew," she sniffed at the bottle in her hand and hastily tossed it back in. "Ooh, look, a jewelry box," Honey pulled out a delicate oak box with silver trimming on the sides.

Trixie eyed it with interest. "Is there anything inside?"

Honey opened the lid and soft, tinkling music filled the air. "Nope, there’s nothing in it, but oh, isn’t it pretty?"

Trixie nodded. "Should we give it to the bazaar? I’m sure it would sell there."

Honey looked at it for a moment, then shrugged. "I guess. If someone had wanted it, why would it be up here?" She handed it to Trixie who placed it carefully on the pile of things ‘to go.’

Honey continued rummaging around through the very bottom of the chest. "Actually, all this stuff can go… its nothing but clothes... a bag full of junk jewelry… an old book… wait."

"Hmm?" Trixie, absorbed in examining the Lucy novels again, said absentmindedly.

"This isn’t an old book…"

"Hmm?"

"Trix… this…"

"Mmm."

"Trixie!"

Trixie jumped. "What? What’s wrong?"

Honey waved the tattered leather-bound book in the air. "Trixie! This isn’t an old book at all! Well, I mean, it’s an old book, but not the sort of old book one would necessary think of. I mean, it’s not really a book, even- well, it’s a book, and it’s old, so yes, it’s an old book, but it’s not a book, it’s an old non-book-book-"

"Oh, Honey," Trixie interrupted, "please, for once in your life, try making some sense. What are you attempting to say?"

Honey took a deep breath. "This old book," she waved it aloft, "isn’t an old book at all. Trixie, this is someone’s old diary."

Trixie stared at her for a moment, then scooted over to where she was sitting. "An old diary? Interesting, but…"

"Trixie, this is Margaret Martin’s old diary."

*   *   *  

Dinner that night was an agonizing affair. Trixie spent most of the meal poking idly at her roast beef, thinking of the yet-unread diary stuffed under the pillow of Honey’s bed back upstairs. After recovering from the initial shock of finding Margaret’s diary in the attic of Anduril Hall, the two girls had rushed from the attic to their bedroom, leaving everything in utter chaos, resolving to finish the job after supper.

"How do you think it got up there?" Honey had asked in a hushed voice, the diary sitting on the bed between them.

"No idea," Trixie had answered, reluctantly resisting from opening its pages and pouring over the diary’s contents. "It’s almost time for dinner. Let’s not read it yet, because if we start, we’ll never be able to stop."

"Oh, oh," Honey had moaned, "it’s almost harder to just leave it up here and not even begin to read it, but you’re right. We’d never finish it before dinner."

So the diary had been shoved under Honey’s pillow, just as Charles had called up the stairway announcing dinnertime.

"Also," Trixie had whispered hastily to Honey, as they headed downstairs, "let’s not mention the diary to anyone, ok? Not yet, anyway."

Honey had nodded in agreement, and they had hurried into the dining room without another word.

Sitting there, listening to Mart’s dictionary speak, Gary and Mr. Wheeler’s business talk, Elisa’s random bizarre comments, and Ben’s obnoxious commentary through it all, was almost unbearable. Trixie gazed blearily at her plate. The diary was taunting her all the way from upstairs.

Honey nudged Trixie. "Trix," she whispered. "Bill is talking to you."

"Eh?" Trixie’s head snapped up. "What?"

Bill grinned at her from across the table. "I said, did you find any mysteries while searching through the attic today?"

Both Trixie and Honey jumped at the word ‘mysteries’, however Elizabeth didn’t notice as she clapped her hands and asked, excited, "Yes, tell us, what did you find? I myself haven’t been up there in so long. I don’t even know what could have been up there. What did you find?" she repeated.

Trixie and Honey exchanged guilty looks, and as Trixie opened her mouth to reply, Elisa interrupted with an angry, "Cheese does not come from cows!"

"Hush, Elisa," Elizabeth said gently. "Go on, dear," she said to Trixie. "What were you going to say?"

Trixie gulped, completely nonplussed, and glanced at Honey again before saying slowly, "Well… we found a lot of jun- er, stuff that can go to the bazaar…"

"Yes," Honey chimed in, with her quick graceful tact, "we found the most darling little jewelry box… We wondered who’s it was, and why it was up in the attic-"

"And," Trixie added, remembering, "We found the complete set of the Lucy Radcliffe novels-"

"Clothes by the piles," Honey interrupted.

"Records! Tons of ‘em-"

"Pictures, ancient ones, some even from Mother and Daddy’s wedding-"

"Hey," Mr. Wheeler interrupted with a grin. "They’re not that old. We did have cameras back then, you know."

Jim chuckled at Trixie. "So amid all of that ‘discovering,’ you’re telling me that you two didn’t uncover one mystery? That’s got to be a record."

Trixie could only smile feebly back at him.

Elizabeth beamed at Honey and Trixie. "Imagine that, you got all that work done in just one day! The church will be so happy, I can’t thank you girls enough-"

"It was fun, really," Honey insisted. "We were happy to help."

Bill turned to his mother and said, "I think we should keep these girls around. They clean out the attic, they’d be handy if a mystery pops up, and god knows Trixie is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in this town." He winked at Trixie, who blushed down to the roots of her sandy curls. Ben snorted derisively at this, and Jim muttered something indistinctly, but no one else said anything.

Later, as Trixie and Honey were hurrying back to their room, Honey said worriedly, "I really wish Bill would stop blatantly flirting with you in front of Jim. It really upsets him. Not that he would ever say anything."

"Bill doesn’t even know he’s doing anything wrong," Trixie pointed out, as they climbed the stairs. "Not that he is. I mean, he’s not, as you say, ‘blatantly flirting’ at all. He’s just being friendly."

Honey giggled at that as they entered their room. "Suuuure. Well then, Sherlock, tell me, why does Jim get so upset every time he says anything to you?"

Trixie collapsed on her bed, her face flaming. "Because Jim is a moron," she said, burying her head under the pillows. She suddenly popped out with a snicker. "Anyway, Dr. Holmes, the only reason Bill is paying so much attention to me is because you’re related to him, so it would seem kind of icky for him to hit on you. Not that that stopped Luke and Leia, but hey, it takes all kinds."

Honey rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Trix."

"I’m serious!" Trixie insisted. "If you weren’t related to Bill, he would so be all about you. And Di! If Di were here, I might as well be a piece of furniture to him, for all he’d pay attention to me."

"He might try to ride you like an exercise bike," Honey suggested helpfully. "That would require lots of attention, metaphorically speaking."

Trixie shrieked, and both of the girls burst into hysterical giggles. Calming down, Trixie clutched her stomach and gulped, "My point was, Bill is only, er, flirting with me because there is a serious lack of females around these parts. I kind of doubt Bill would notice me, otherwise."

Honey, still chuckling, replied, "Don’t be silly, Trix, any guy would be crazy about you. Just ask Jim," she added mischievously.

Trixie blushed again, and sighed. "Let’s not go there, ok?"

Honey shrugged. "Fine. You know of course, how I feel about you and Jim. But, Trixie, I want you to be happy, more than anything. I mean, Bill is cute, and he obviously likes you. If you were interested, don’t let me, or even Jim stand in the way. Especially if it was something you really wanted."

Trixie pondered that for a moment, biting her lip thoughtfully. "Bill is cute," she admitted at last. "I don’t know, Honey. I feel all jumbled up right now. I’m not used to getting attention from guys-"

"Only because you ignored the masses of guys from high school throwing themselves into a drooling heap at your feet." Honey interrupted.

Trixie glared at her. "Don’t be a git. No guy ever did that. And now, Bill is- well, not to that extreme," she added hastily. "Oh, woe. On one hand, there’s Jim, and we all know the current state of that mess. On the other hand, Bill, who’s nice and funny, and I am not afraid of at all." She sighed and held her palms of in a gesture of helplessness. "The worst part is, I… Bill… he makes me feel… he…"

Honey nodded sympathetically. "You kinda like Bill, and would be interested, but feel bad because you already told Jim you weren’t ready to date."

"Yes!" Trixie said gratefully. "Exactly! And I’m not terrified of the idea of going out with Bill, because, well, it’s Bill, and-"

"And not Jim," Honey finished.

They sat in silence for a moment. Honey ran a finger over the design on the comforter absentmindedly. Trixie watched her gloomily for a moment, hoping against hope Honey could remain unbiased about her predicament, hard as it may be. She didn’t think she could deal if Honey got mad at her for her feelings about Jim, who was, after all, Honey’s brother. Woe, Trixie moped, if Honey stops talking to me, who am I going to confide in? Mart? He could be awfully sympathetic and was always a good listener when Trixie needed to talk, but the very idea of discussing her love life with him made her slightly nauseated. Perhaps I would have to invest in a diary, Trixie thought sulkily.

Then she sat bolt upright as a sudden thought struck her. "Diary!" Trixie gasped.

Honey started, and immediately understood what Trixie was talking about. "I forgot all about it!" she exclaimed, pouncing upon the pillows lined neatly along the headboard. She dug around, and came up with the tattered, leather-bound book, holding it with almost a ceremonial reverence.

Trixie breathed in excitedly. "Oh, Honey, hurry! Read it! I can’t stand another moment of suspense!" she moaned, wriggling her fingers at Honey impatiently.

Honey obediently opened the book and flipped to the first page. "August thirtieth," she read.

"I’m starting a diary today, for the sole purpose of recording my children’s lives as they grow day by day. Both James and John are changing so quickly. It’s almost heartbreaking as a mother to watch, but the harsh truth of reality is that children inevitably grow up and leave their parents behind. Hopefully, this diary will serve to memorialize their younger years, and leave me something to fondly look back upon when it’s just David and me."

Trixie interrupted with a snort. "Slightly overdramatic, isn’t she?"

Honey leafed through the next few days of the diary, pausing only to look up at Trixie with a smile. "Of course she is. She’s a mother. Anyway, Trix," she continued, perusing through the diary’s pages with a worried frown, "I don’t think this is going to help us at all. It’s only about James and John Jr. ‘I took the boys to the park today,’" Honey read, "‘and we spent most of the afternoon playing on the jungle gym and feeding the ducks at the pond. I had packed some sandwiches for lunch, and we ate them underneath the old willow tree beside the stream.’"

Trixie sighed. "Is that all the diary is?"

Honey nodded, and buried her head in the diary once more. "She was certainly a devoted mother, we can at least tell that much."

"Which doesn’t quite jive with her history," mused Trixie, watching Honey scan the pages. "I mean, if she was so devoted to her kids, why leave them?"

"I’ll check the last entry," Honey said without much hope. "Maybe she wrote why she was leaving." She flipped to the back pages of the book and read in silence for a moment.

"Well?" Trixie asked at long last, staring anxiously at Honey.

Honey slowly closed the book, gazing at Trixie without really seeing her. "It… it’s horrible…" she said softly. "Why would…?"

"Why what?" Trixie demanded impatiently. "What are you talking about?"

Honey at last met Trixie’s eyes. "David… he… Oh, Trixie, he used to beat her!"

Trixie gaped at Honey for a moment, then grabbed for the book. "Dear god," she groaned, reading through the entries that described the beatings in great detail. "The poor woman… Hey… listen to this!" She read, "‘James came to me today with bruises all over his back. This is the second time this week. I can’t stand just sitting back and letting this happen anymore. I have to do something.’ Well," Trixie said disgustedly, "if David was willing to beat his wife and sons, I guess that doesn’t leave much doubt to whether he’s a murderer, eh?"

"Why?" Honey asked, revolted. "Why would he do something like that?"

Trixie looked up with a hollow laugh. "After all the experience we’ve had with abuse, Honey, you ought to know why. Because he can. And," she added as an afterthought, "he might have had anger issues. Like Jonesy, remember?"

Honey nodded, but still looked horrified. "I suppose that’s the reason she took off, then?"

Trixie turned to the last entry and read aloud:

"I’m leaving today, although where I am going, even I am not sure. All I know is that I cannot take anymore of this abuse, and I shouldn’t have to, either. I don’t think David ever meant for it to turn out this way. It hurts like hell to leave my entire life behind, but I have little other choice. David, I think, realizes and understands that, for which I am grateful. Bob Stewell, a close friend from town, is helping me out; he bought the train tickets for James and I, and we are going to stay at his sister’s place for a bit until I can figure out what to do. The hardest part is leaving Johnny behind. It’s for the best, this much I am sure of, and Elisa promised to keep an eye on him for me, as she knows the situation. I don’t truly in my heart believe that David would ever beat the children, but I fear for James’s life as much as mine, if not even more so. It is not even David that worries me so. There are other forces at work, and I cannot even bear to write them here, it breaks my heart so. Perhaps what I am doing is little more than running away, but at this point I cannot say I even care. All I care about now is getting James and I to safety. My home is no longer my home."

"Gleeps," was all Trixie could say, as she closed the book.

Honey stared at the diary thoughtfully. "It didn’t tell us much, did it? If anything, it just created more questions."

"We know why Margaret left, now, anyhow," Trixie pointed out. "But… why would she take James and leave John behind? It makes no sense."

"And what did she mean, ‘other forces at work’?" Honey pondered. "It sounds like there was more threatening her, other than David."

Trixie tapped the book, thinking. "I can’t even begin to imagine what else there would be," she said at last. "I mean, what’s worse than abuse?"

"Murder," Honey squeaked.

"Well, she at least delayed that for another twenty years, then," Trixie sighed.

There was a thoughtful silence, as the two girls sat musing over what could possibly have driven Margaret and James away, when suddenly, the bedroom door slammed open. Honey jumped straight into the air with a tiny shriek; Trixie grabbed at the diary and hurriedly shoved it under the pillow on the bed. They turned angrily to stare at the unwelcome guest now framed in the doorway.

Mart eyed them back suspiciously. "What are you two doing all holed up in here?" he demanded. "One would think you’re… up to something." He waggled his eyebrows.

"We’re not up to anything, smarty-pants," Trixie retorted. "Now go back downstairs like a good boy and leave us be."

Mart snorted. "Trixie, Trixie, Trixie. I should think you would realize by now that you can’t hide anything from me. I am skilled in the art of telepathy. All of your silly little secrets would never have remained shrouded in mystery to someone with such vast psychic powers like I. For example," he pointed to the now somewhat rumpled pillows behind them on the bed. "I see that you have hidden something- rather poorly, I might add- underneath the cushions upon the divan. And how do I know this, you might ask?"

Trixie merely glared at him.

"I shall tell you," Mart plowed on with a maddening air of superiority. "I could, of course, inform you that I arrived at this conclusion through my immeasurable capabilities of E.S.P. but alas, that just wouldn’t be true. I could also tell you that I merely guessed, but that would be undermining my skill. No, instead I shall tell you the truth."

"Which would be?" Honey asked impatiently.

Mart plopped down upon the bed with a grin. "I saw Trixie shove it under the pillows," he grinned. "So, tell me. What are you two hiding?"

"None of your business, Mart Belden," Trixie said, irritated. "You would just make fun of us anyway."

"Oh?" Mart elevated an eyebrow. "Anything to do with… Bill?" He shot a glance at Trixie, who blushed bright crimson.

"No," Honey said firmly. "Of course not. What a ridiculous thing to say. Honestly."

Mart shrugged. "I wasn’t serious, anyway. No, when you two crazy girls start acting all peculiar-like, there’s usually a mystery in works. So, come on now. Tell brother Mart all about it."

Trixie sniffed indignantly. "If you’re a monk, the entire catholic religion is screwed to hell. Anyway, I wouldn’t tell about the mystery we discovered even if there was a mystery. Which there’s not. But if there were. And I wouldn’t tell you about the mystery we don’t have. Not that I could, since we don’t have one. But I wouldn’t."

Mart clutched his short sandy hair as though in pain and rolled his eyes up to the heavens. "I take it back!" he groaned. "I take the crack about Bill back, I take it back, just please stop this torture you mockingly call language! Your rambling has only thoroughly convinced me that there is, indeed a mystery. And since I took the Bill taunt back," he said, releasing his head and looking back down at Trixie and Honey, "care to share this enigma with your fellow birdie?"

"No," Trixie and Honey said staunchly in unison.

"Please?" he wheedled. "I’ll give you a cookie."

"We can make our own," Honey smiled and patted Mart’s cheek.

"Correction," Mart replied. "You can make your own. Trixie, on the other hand, can make a mess in the kitchen and a fire in the oven."

"We know, we know," Trixie sighed wearily. "You’d rather eat live cave-dwelling spiders flavored with arsenic rather than one of my cookies. I could probably arrange that," she added, brightening.

Honey giggled and turned to Mart. "Did you come up here simply to third-degree us, or was there another, more pleasant, reason?"

"There was something else," Mart replied, thoroughly disgruntled at not being told of the mystery. "Something about the abandoned houses. Bill wanted to take us out there tonight. I told him you weren’t interested."

"What!" Trixie squeaked, leaping off the bed. "You didn’t! We want to go, you moron!" she yelled, beating on Mart’s head with her fists. "Now they left without us, and we missed out-"

"OW! I was- OW! STOP! I was kidding!"

"What’s going on in here?" Bill popped into the room, looking mildly interested.

Trixie dropped her fists to her sides. "Oh," she said stupidly.

Mart rubbed furiously at his head, muttering something about "crazy females" but said nothing more.

Honey jumped in tactfully. "Mart just told us you were going to take us out to the old abandoned houses," she said quickly. "Are we even allowed to go in them?"

"Well, technically speaking, no," Bill admitted. "The town put all kinds of trespassing signs around them, tons of restrictions, but no one pays attention. The kids in the village like to go up on dares and whatnot, and we always take new blood in ’em. Sort of like an initiation," he grinned.

"When are we leaving?" Trixie asked eagerly, all thoughts of Cliffedge Manor driven out of her mind.

"Easy, princess," Bill said to Trixie with a smile. "The tradition goes that we can’t take you guys up until midnight. That is, after all, when the ‘haunting’ begins."

"Midnight?" Honey repeated nervously. "But- will we be allowed out that late?"

"Course not," Bill replied dismissively. "We have to sneak out, naturally."

"Sneak out?" Trixie said in the same tone as Honey. "But- we can’t-"

"Sure, you can," Bill said easily. "Doesn’t mean you have to, though. If you don’t want to, I mean, I’ll understand," he said surveying Trixie with an unmistakable look of cold disappointment.

"No, no, I’ll go," Trixie said hastily, wondering briefly what else she would agree to merely to erase that look off of Bill’s face.

"Excellent," Bill smiled warmly at her. "And you two?" he inquired, turning to Mart and Honey.

"Er- Yes," Mart replied, his eyes scrutinizing Trixie, a look of unease on his face. "Yes, I’ll come," he turned to Bill, suddenly hostile.

"Me- me too," Honey murmured.

"Great," Bill said smoothly. "Now, what about Jim?"

"What about him?" Honey asked immediately. "He’s invited, isn’t he?"

"Well," Bill said slowly. "He seems like he’d rat us out to me. I don’t know if we should bring him along-"

"Jim would never do that," Honey declared loyally. "Would he, Trix?"

"Er," Trixie hesitated. Would Jim turn us in? She asked herself. Probably, came the somewhat guilty answer. Jim was far too honest, too moral, to agree to a scheme like this. And that’s part of the problem, Trixie thought, frustrated and shameful. "I- well- but-" she stuttered.

Mart interrupted, much to Trixie’s relief. "Jim is coming tonight, and he’s not going to rat us out," he said firmly. "If you have any worries about people ratting you out, they should be about Ben."

Bill shrugged. "Ben’s been up there plenty of times. He wasn’t interesting in joining us tonight. Don’t worry about him. He’s ok. About Jim, though…"

"What about Jim?" came the icy response.

They all turned to see Jim standing half obscured by shadows in the hallway. He strode forward with a grim look upon his face.

"Ben told me what you guys are going to do," he informed them immediately. "I know I can’t talk you out of it…" He left his eyes linger on Trixie. "However, I can come with, and make sure…" His eyes wandered over to Bill. "Well, and make sure you don’t get into any trouble," Jim finished.

"Fine then," Bill said, rather coolly. "We leave at eleven-thirty. We walk. Meet outside behind the barn." He strode from the room abruptly.

Jim cast a last look around the room, giving Trixie, Honey and Mart an exasperated look, and then he, too, left the room.

Mart gave a snort of disgust. "I know he’s your cousin and all, Honey, but I don’t like that Bill guy. Neither does Jim. Just why exactly are we going tonight, anyway?" Even though he was speaking to Honey, Mart’s gaze was firmly rooted on Trixie.

"I don’t know, Mart," Honey replied sadly, watching Trixie as well.

Trixie, however, was oblivious to the both of them, staring into the air, her eyes holding a dreamy, faraway look, seeing something Honey and Mart were unable to see.