*all ages

Author’s Note: Like many fanfic authors, this story is the result of wondering, ‘what if I’d been a KK’? I took that question quite literally and so this story takes place in the February following volume 6, The Mystery in Arizona. That makes Trixie, Di & Honey still 13, Mart 14, Jim, 15 and Brian 16. This story is written without reference to any of the books or events after Volume 6. So, for example, the Bob-Whites’ existence as a club has never been threatened by a school principal, Di hasn’t had the lead in Romeo and Juliet, and Dan has not been introduced as a character at this point. (Sorry to all the loyal Dan fans.) Jim is assistant gamekeeper to Mr. Maypenny, a job he was assigned in #5, Mystery Off Glen Road. Anyway, if I’d been a KK, I might have tried something like this…

 

Trixie Get Your Gun!

By Maidrya

 

Chapter 1: There’s No Business Like Show Business!

"Trixie, if you don’t help me, I don’t think I can get through this!"

Thirteen year old Trixie Belden was juggling her schoolbooks into a semblance of order, wishing she had just a few less books to lug around. When she heard her friend’s plea she looked up, startled. Her blue eyes widened and the pencil she’d gripped between her teeth fell to the floor as her mouth gaped open.

"Wha-a-t?!" She got out. It had been a while since she’d seen Di looking so desperate. "What on earth are you talking about, Diana Lynch?"

Forehead furrowed and violet eyes batting nervously, Diana sneezed twice into her handkerchief. She slammed her locker door shut. "I do not know how I’m going to make it through this musical," she said hoarsely. "I wish I’d never taken the part of Annie Oakley!"

"Oh," Trixie said in relief, bending over to rescue her chewed up pencil. "Come on, it can’t be that bad," she shifted her load of books and reached out to pat Di’s arm. "You managed to be a star in grade school, even if you did get some of your lines mixed up," Trixie grinned playfully, but Di didn’t seem to notice. "And Mrs. Catania picked you specially to play Annie. From what I’ve heard she thinks you’re Broadway’s next big star in this role, right after Reba McEntire gives it up!"

Di, Trixie knew, was a country music fan who fairly worshipped Reba McEntire. She’d been twice to see the country star perform Annie Get Your Gun on Broadway.

"Mrs. Catania may have been pleased with me for a while," Di said, lifting her long black hair out from around her sweater and neck and tossing it around her shoulders. "But lately I can’t seem to do anything right. And I think she’s losing patience."

"It’s not like Mrs. Catania is known for having the patience of a saint in the first place," Trixie said. Mrs. Catania was a blunt, heavy-set Brooklyn native who’d worked in off-Broadway theater for 25 years. A few years earlier she’d retired from professional theater to teach drama in Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, a small town just outside White Plains, New York.

Di started to move down the hallway but Trixie grabbed her arm. "Wait!" she cried. "You forgot to lock your locker!"

Di rolled her eyes and shook her head. "That’s what I mean," she muttered, turning back to click the Yale lock closed. "I’m a basket case these days. I don’t know where I am or what I’m doing!"

"So, how is this different?" Trixie teased, then bit her lip when she saw the pained look on Di’s pretty face. "I’m sorry, Di. I’m the one everyone calls harum-scarum so I’ve got no business making fun of anyone for being forgetful. But, really, you’re going to be just fine. In fact, you’ll be great. You’ve got a nice comic touch and you have a wonderful singing voice."

Both Trixie and Di had study hall third period and they began to make their way through crowded halls toward the library. The girls were eighth graders at Sleepyside’s small Junior-Senior High School. Trixie’s older brothers, Brian and Mart also attended the school as did her next door neighbors, Honey Wheeler and Honey’s adopted brother, Jim Frayne. The teen-agers all lived near each other just outside of Sleepyside and rode the bus to and from school.

"Mrs. Catania may be regretting her decision," Di said dolefully. "She asked me to stay after rehearsal yesterday. She told me I seem distracted and not really committed to the play," Di sighed. "She pointed out that as the lead, I’m supposed to set the tone for the entire production. But I’m not setting a good example," Di sneezed again.

"Oh, phooey," Trixie scoffed. "Mrs. Catania is known to be very demanding and I’m sure she’s just trying to get you to do your best. This is just mid-production doldrums. Plus, this cold has got you down."

"It’s not a cold, it’s allergies," Di said.

"Whatever. I’m sure you’ll get over this just fine. I’ll help you any way I can and work with you as much as you like. We’ll make sure you’ve got this part cold!" The girls had reached the corner where the hallway intersected with the main hallway that ran from the south end of the building past the administration offices, school gym, and theater all the way to the library on the building’s north end.

"That’s great Trixie, but I’m not so much concerned about learning my lines as I am –" Di stopped suddenly as a tall, pretty girl with dark blonde hair came rushing around the corner, nearly running into the two girls.

Trixie moved aside without a thought, but then stopped as she realized that, while the stream of students moved around them, Di was standing completely still, biting her lower lip and staring at the girl. The girl was staring at Di also and blushing furiously, Trixie noted. Then she ducked her head, straightened the books in her arms and scurried around Di to merge with the other students, moving as quickly as she could in the crowded hall.

"Who was that?" Trixie asked.

"Sssh," Di said, putting a finger to her mouth. "That," she continued when she thought the girl had moved out of earshot, "is someone who was hoping to get the part of Annie Oakley and who may yet be my replacement."

"I don’t think I’ve even seen her before. What’s her name?" Trixie asked curiously. Like Di, Trixie had lived in Sleepyside all of her life and was acquainted with just about all of the students in school as well as most of the people in the town.

"Her name’s Alison Travers," the voice was Honey Wheeler’s, who joined Trixie and Di at that moment. Honey, nicknamed for her long, golden-brown hair, glanced back sympathetically at the rushing figure of Alison. "She and her mom moved to Sleepyside over the holidays and she just entered school in January. She’s two classes ahead of us. Jim’s in chemistry and home room with her and has mentioned her to me. He says she’s sweet, but seems shy and even frightened much of the time."

Trixie reflected that it hadn't been that long since Honey herself had seemed shy and frightened much of the time. But since moving to the countryside outside Sleepyside the previous summer, making loyal friends, and acquiring an adopted brother, she had blossomed into a quietly self-possessed teen. Honey’s parents, who were quite wealthy, had bought a mansion called the Manor House. Their home sat on a high hill west of the Belden family’s modest Crabapple Farm, which nestled in the hollow below.

"Well, she’s my understudy as Annie Oakley," Di said. "Plus, her mother is the wardrobe mistress, sewing most of the costumes. Mrs. Travers will tell anyone who’ll listen that her precious ‘Ali’ knows the part word perfect and note perfect and can step in at any time! I’m starting to think I should just move aside and let her have it. For the good of the production," Di sighed and looked down at the linoleum floor.

Trixie grimaced and looked at Honey who was studying Di with concern. Di, Trixie and Honey belonged to a club that also included Trixie’s older brothers, Brian and Mart Belden, and Jim Frayne. The teens called themselves the Bob-Whites of the Glen and had agreed that the purposes of the club would be helping others and being there for each other whenever one of the Bob-Whites was in trouble. "This is a Bob-White moment," Trixie decided.

"Di," she said aloud. "You mustn’t let yourself be bullied. Or scared. This is your part. I was there the afternoon when you were singing in the hall and Mrs. Catania came up to you and asked you to audition. You sounded great. You asked for help, I’m going to help. I’ll rehearse with you every spare minute until you’re over this case of nerves."

"I’ll help, too," Honey said sympathetically. Honey, who had had a somewhat lonely childhood, was a kind-hearted girl who knew first hand the importance of having support. "I don’t know for sure what I can do, but I’ll be there to pat you on the back!"

That won a small smile from Di. "You guys are great," she mumbled.

"Let’s start right now," Trixie said eagerly.

"During study hall?" Honey asked.

"Oh, we can do our homework anytime," Trixie, who never needed much excuse to put aside her algebra homework, airily brushed aside that consideration.

"That’s what you said last fall and look what it got you – you had to be tutored while we were on Christmas vacation at Uncle Monty’s wonderful dude ranch," Di said with a laugh. The Bob-Whites had spent two memorable weeks at Di’s Uncle’s dude ranch outside of Tucson, Arizona. Uncle Monty had invited the teen-agers out of gratitude for the help the Bob-Whites, led by Trixie, had given the Lynch family in exposing a con man who was posing as Mrs. Lynch’s long lost brother.

"I know but I passed mid-terms didn’t I?" Trixie said impatiently. "That was my problem then, we need to focus on your problem now." They crossed the library threshold and Trixie led the two other girls over to an empty table in a quiet corner.

"Now," she said firmly, but keeping her voice low so as not to attract attention. "Let’s start with the first scene – the one where Annie Oakley has just come to town to sell the game she’s shot."

Trixie pretended to pick up a rifle, take aim and shoot at one of the light fixtures. "Pow! Heck, little lady, you’ll knock their lights out just like that!" Trixie dusted her hands on her back side, swung her leg up on the chair and leaned over her knee. "Why, I can take on any sharp shooting stage mom, just bring ‘em on!"

Di began to giggle at Trixie’s Annie Oakley imitation. Happy to see her friend relaxing, Trixie continued with her Annie Oakley act, speaking in a loud whisper. "Aw, shucks, ma’am, ‘tweren’t nuthin’!"

Trixie noticed that Honey had leaned back in her chair and a smirk was spreading over her pretty face. Trixie thought she must be doing a good Annie Oakley imitation, so she swung her leg down and began to strut back and forth in front of the table, swinging her arms, watching Di and Honey and not looking where she was going.

"Folks are dumb where I come from, they ain’t had any learnin’," Trixie started to sing Annie Oakley’s first song, still in a stage whisper. "Still they’ve gone from A - Z, doin’ what comes nat’rally!"

She whirled around, arms outstretched and ran straight into the arms of red-headed Jim Frayne. Jim reached out and grabbed Trixie by the shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.

"Oh!" Trixie said, more loudly than she meant to. She was turning red. Behind her she heard muffled laughter coming from Honey and Di. Jim just stood there, hands on Trixie’s shoulders, looking down at her quizzically. From behind Jim Trixie’s blonde-haired brother, Mart, emerged, eyebrows raised.

"Gleeps, Trixie! Who or what are you trying to hit with that ‘air rifle’ of yours?" Jim asked. "Are you planning to run off and become an extra with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show?"

"Wild is definitely the mot juste, the precisely right term to use to describe my contrary sibling," Mart said, moving to stand beside Jim. "Trix is the original Wild Child who makes everyone else look tame by comparison. But, I’ve got news for you, Trix," Mart continued, giving her arm a light punch. "Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show has vanished like the Last Mohican and we’ve been back from Arizona for over a month. The storied land of sagebrush and cacti is nothing but a distant dream. And, need I say, you stand as much chance of shooting out the lights with that ‘air rifle’ of yours as you would with a real rifle."

Trixie stuck out her tongue at Mart and Jim. "No, you needn’t say anything, Smarty Pants. I’m not joining the Wild West show and the only things I want to shoot are you two ignoramuses," she said impatiently. "I’m just coaching Di on her Annie Oakley part."

"If anyone can give advice on how to play a tomboy, it’s you," Jim said, amusement sparkling in his green eyes. "But I thought Calamity Jane was more your speed than Annie Oakley."

Trixie folded her arms and tossed her short, blonde curls. "Says you. What calamities are you referring to? The one where your uncle was dying in the hospital and I found the money he had hidden? The one where you ran off not knowing you were safe from your stepfather and Honey and I found you? The one where –" Trixie was ticking off examples on her fingers.

"Enough," Jim laughed, holding his hands up in admission. "You’ve made your point. Sometimes, Calamity Belden, your calamitous adventures have good results."

"Thanks," Trixie said. "I think."

The Bob-Whites voices had slowly escalated and had attracted the attention of Mrs. Anderson, the librarian. She now came walking purposefully over to them looking sternly over the rims of her reading glasses.

"This is study hall," she said with emphasis. "And this is the li-brar-ry," she spoke with exaggerated slowness, as if the teens might not be acquainted with that word.

Trixie sank into the nearest chair. Di looked down and Honey buried her face in her history book, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Jim and Mart nodded agreeably to the librarian, waved to the girls and headed off to the periodicals section of the library.

While Mrs. Anderson watched Mart and Jim depart, Trixie whispered across to Di, "Maybe I can come over tonight and help you rehearse lines!"

Di sneezed again and shook her head. "I’ve been trying to tell you," she rasped. "The problem’s not my lines. Or, it’s only sort of my lines. Something keeps going wrong during rehearsals -- just about every day. And, it always happens in scenes involving me."

Honey looked up from her book then and both she and Trixie were fixated on Di’s face as she whispered urgently, "I’m telling you, Trixie, the play is jinxed! I’m jinxed!"

 

Chapter 2: Trouble Backstage

Trixie and Honey stared at Di and each other, but dared not ask any more questions. Mrs. Anderson had turned back around and continued to straighten books on nearby shelves, officiously fingering the bindings, pulling out and then replacing volumes. Every so often she turned and peered over her glasses at the girls.

Di busied herself with her script. Trixie sighed and pulled out her algebra book – her least favorite subject and one she’d passed successfully in the fall term only with the help of rigorous tutoring from Jim and her brother, Brian. She frowned at the story problems. Railroad mismanagement again. Those same two stupid trains had left two opposite stations on the same track again. Would they never learn? Never had Trixie been less interested in algebra. After a minute of trying unsuccessfully to consider the problem, she looked up at Di who was mouthing her lines silently as she paged through her script.

"What can she mean – jinxed?" Trixie wondered. "Usually I’m the one with the wild ideas." To tell the truth, Mart’s description of Trixie as a wild child, while a typically far-fetched Mart-ism, had some basis in fact. Trixie loved adventure and had been known to make it up when she couldn’t find it naturally.

Trixie knew that going on the stage was a kind of a love-hate affair for Di. Her dark, exotic looks quickly captivated an audience and she had a lovely singing voice. But, even offstage, she tended to forget or mangle words. Being onstage she was prone to feeling she was always just one short step from disaster.

When Mrs. Catania had encouraged – bullied, actually – Di into taking the part of Annie Oakley Trixie knew her friend had taken on a big personal challenge. Any extra trouble behind the scenes must be adding to Di’s nervousness.

But what could she mean by jinxed? Finally, Trixie couldn’t stand it any more. She wrote on a piece of paper, "Jinxed?" and shoved it under Di’s nose.

Di shook her head. "Later," she mouthed. Groaning inwardly Trixie reluctantly returned to her algebra problems.

At last, Mrs. Anderson moved to another part of the library, leaving the girls in the relative isolation of the corner.

When the coast was clear, Di leaned forward and began to speak in a low voice. "First, you’ve both got to swear not to tell anyone," she began.

Honey and Trixie nodded.

Di continued, "Mrs. Catania is very adamant that, no matter what is going on, everyone must tell anyone who asks about the show that it’s going just fine. We are to give people the impression that it’s going to be a great production, one they shouldn’t miss seeing. She’s like that on every play – she feels it’s important for professionalism and morale. And, of course, to sell tickets."

Trixie and Honey both nodded solemnly. "We won’t tell," they said.

"At first I thought it was just my nerves," Di continued. "Odd things have been happening. I leave props on the prop table and when I come to pick them back up for my next entrance, they’re not there. Or, take these allergies. Everyone was warned repeatedly that I’m allergic to talc and so we’ll have to use special powder for my make-up. But, somehow, talc got onto one of my props."

"Well, accidents do happen," Honey began.

"I know, but over and over again?!" Di exclaimed. "The thing is, these things seem to be happening only when I’m in a scene. But they seem to happen in just about every scene I’m in! I thought I might be losing my mind, but when I think back on it, in every instance these things happened either to me or when I was speaking or singing. That’s what’s got me so nervous! I can’t concentrate! I go to rehearsal thinking, ‘what’s going to happen today?’" Di’s beautiful violet eyes were clouded with anxiety. Honey put a slender hand on Di’s arm soothingly.

Trixie mulled over Di’s description. "But, Annie’s the lead and it’s a big role, Di," she said finally. "You must be on stage ninety percent of the time. So, it wouldn’t have to be much of a coincidence for things to be going wrong when you’re onstage, would it?"

Honey stared at Trixie. "Since when did you begin to search for a logical explanation, Ms. There’s Something Mysterious Going on Here and I’m Going to Get to the Bottom of It?"

Trixie grinned. "That’s Ms. Schoolgirl Shamus to you," she said, referring to the nickname Jim had once teasingly bestowed on Trixie and Honey. "And, anyway, the ruthless teasing of my fellow Bob-Whites is wearing me down. But, Di, do you see my point?"

"Yes, but Trixie, rehearsals have been split so that not everyone has to attend every day. That gives us time to do our schoolwork. There has been at least one day a week when I haven’t had to be there – and there’s never been any trouble on those days. The stage manager’s noticed it too," Di said, tears forming in her eyes. "Yesterday she asked me what I’d done today that would annoy the theater ghost."

"The theater has a ghost?" Honey exclaimed.

"Not really, it’s just a superstition," Di waved her hand dismissively.

"But Nancy Norland says you’re a jinx?!" Trixie asked incredulously. Nancy was an upper classman, in the same class as Jim and Brian. She had managed Sleepyside High’s last two stage productions and was known for her discipline and level-headedness.

Di nodded miserably. "And, with all of the distraction, I am having trouble remembering my lines, which, as everyone knows, I sometimes have trouble learning in the first place. Trixie," she said, giving Trixie’s arm a slight shake. "You and Honey have got to come and help me. You’ve got to find out what’s going on."

"But I can’t sing or dance or act – as I just proved," Trixie laughed.

"Me either," Honey said. "Besides, it’s too late to get involved."

"No, it’s not too late to get involved backstage," Di said. "Yesterday, a couple of boys who were stage hands were asked to leave because they haven’t been reliable in showing up for rehearsals and they goof off when they are there. Mrs. Catania has put the word out that we could use some more hands backstage. If you go and talk with her today, I know she’d jump at the chance to sign you up. Oh, please, Trixie," Di was gripping the table. "I need someone to help me figure out what’s going on here."

"I guess I don’t need experience just to move scenery around," Trixie said slowly. She turned to Honey. "And you’d be a natural for sewing costumes."

Honey nodded her agreement.

"I’ll have to check with Moms," Trixie said finally. "It will cut into my time baby-sitting Bobby and I’ll have to see if that’s okay with her." Trixie earned money by working part time, usually baby-sitting her six year old brother, Bobby, and by helping her parents with household and gardening chores.

The rule of the BWG’s was that all club members could only contribute money they earned to the club treasury. Even though Honey and Di’s parents were very wealthy, and Jim had inherited a small fortune, all worked at various jobs to contribute to the Bob-White’s treasury. Honey, who was an excellent seamstress, usually earned her share by taking on mending jobs.

"Plus," Trixie continued. "Then I won’t get paid as much and I won’t be able to contribute as much to the Bob-Whites."

"Let’s worry about that later," Honey said. "You work very hard for your money and have given as much as anyone to our club, especially with all the mysteries you solve. I vote we put Di first."

Just then the bell rang signaling the end of third period. The girls rose to go to the cafeteria for lunch.

"Let’s drop by Mrs. Catania’s office on our way to lunch," Di said. "The drama coach’s office is right across from the cafeteria, you know. You can at least meet her and let her know you’re interested. You know, I feel better already just knowing you two will be around," Di sighed in relief.

"We’re glad to do it," Honey replied as the girls headed toward the cafeteria for lunch.

The three girls hurried as fast as they could down the crowded hall. When they turned the corner toward the drama coach’s office, the door was standing open, but the girls paused as they approached. Loud voices were arguing. From where she stood, Trixie could just make out three boys standing sullenly in front of a desk. Although she couldn’t see Mrs. Catania, she could hear her scolding the boys.

"I asked you a question and I’d like an answer, Greg. What were you doing taking those prop guns home without permission?"

The boy who seemed to be Greg answered. "We never planned to keep them! We were just curious. We’d never seen a gun that shoots blanks," he said defensively.

"Well, they are expensive and they are school property. You don’t just walk off with them. That’s theft," Mrs. Catania insisted. "I should report you to the principal."

"We didn’t do no harm!" the second boy burst out. "We brought back your stupid props the first thing this morning. And, you’ve got bigger problems than a couple of phony guns, lady!"

"Are you threatening me, young man?" Mrs. Catania’s voice was curt .

For answer, the boy stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor. The other two boys glared at him.

"Tony, wouldja cool it?" Greg elbowed his belligerent friend, then turned to Mrs. Catania . "He didn't mean nothin’, Mrs. Catania"

"Anything. He didn’t mean anything," Mrs. Catania corrected absently.

"We returned the guns," Greg continued. "They’re in the prop room now, honest. Del, here, let us in," Greg gestured to the third boy, then tugged on Tony’s arm and said, "We gotta split. Got to get to class." Without waiting for permission, the two tore out of the room, nearly knocking over Diana, Trixie, and Honey in their haste to get away.

Mrs. Catania followed the boys out of her office. Ignoring the three girls, she folded her arms across her chest and silently watched the fleeing boys. She turned back towards the third boy who remained in her office, a grim look on his face.

"Del, what is going on here? We can’t have crew members taking the props home. You know that!"

"Yes, ma’am," the boy got out. He was tall and slim with long, light brown hair, which fell into his face and over the rims of his black glasses.

Trixie, Di, and Honey looked at each other uneasily and began to move away when Mrs. Catania suddenly switched her attention to them.

"Diana!" she barked. "I see you’ve found two replacements for our backstage crew, have you?"

"Well, maybe, Mrs. Catania, that is, I mean, I’m not sure, we were going to see about it," Di fumbled.

"No time like the present," Mrs. Catania boomed. "We need some more help back stage! Pronto!"

Trixie and Honey looked blankly at each other. "Neither of us has much experience in drama, Mrs. Catania," Trixie blurted out.

"Then now’s your chance," Mrs. Catania replied, seemingly oblivious to the girls’ confusion. "Come on in." With that, the drama coach whirled around and headed back into her office.

The girls blinked and followed her. Trixie’s mind was racing. She’d seen Jeff and Tony around but didn’t know either boy very well. They were part of a small group of students with reputations as trouble-makers. But what was Mrs. Catania saying about stealing prop guns, Trixie wondered as they entered the drama coach’s tiny office. The office was located across the hall from the cafeteria and adjacent to the Sleepyside High auditorium. It doubled as the box office when a show or concert was on.

Looking around, Trixie saw that the office, little more than a cubbyhole, was in a state of barely controlled chaos. Books, scripts, programs, and posters of all kinds were scattered around the room.

"This is Chris Delaney, we usually call him Del," Mrs. Catania gestured to the boy. "Diana, why don’t you introduce your friends?"

Diana introduced Trixie and Honey, but the boy barely acknowledged their greetings. He kept his hands on his hips and his eyes, Trixie noticed, were fixed on Mrs. Catania’s desk. Trixie followed his gaze and saw a pile of books and papers in the center of the desk. Perched precariously atop it were a pair of scissors and a large swatch of sky-blue jersey.

"Del is our Technical Director," Mrs. Catania was saying to Trixie and Honey. "He and our stage manager, Nancy Norland, will give you your specific assignments later. Del, confer with Nancy about where to put our two new volunteers. You and I will talk more about this other incident later."

Mrs. Catania waved her hand dismissively and Del hurried away, never making eye contact with the girls.

"I’ll get you two copies of the script," Mrs. Catania said as she moved papers and folders around on her desk. She stopped for a moment when she saw the scissors and cloth on the pile in the center of the desk. "I wonder why she left those here," she mumbled under her breath.

Then she continued aloud. "Rehearsals start every day fifteen minutes after the school dismissal bell. Don’t be late! They’ll last for 3 hours for the next two and a half weeks. We’ll do our Tech rehearsal this Saturday – we’ll start early and go for however long it takes until we’re done. We’ve only got about 15 rehearsals before Opening Night, including the Tech and the Dress rehearsals. We’ve got no time to waste! Be here early this afternoon. Come as soon as you can after the last bell and Del or Nancy will have time to give you a little orientation before this afternoon’s rehearsal. Aha! Here are two scripts," she finished in triumph and handed Trixie and Honey each a stack of loose leaf papers held together with brads.

"Um-m-m-m," Trixie started.

"Yes?" Mrs. Catania was looking at her sharply.

"It’s just that I help my Moms out a lot, with babysitting and chores and stuff and my parents really depend on me and I haven’t even asked permission and if I don’t do my chores I won’t get paid and then I can’t…" Trixie stopped just as she was about to mention paying her Bob-Whites dues. The BWG’s kept their club semi-secret.

Mrs. Catania looked at her impatiently. "Get permission. This is only for the next few weeks and it’s a good learning experience. Let me show you the prop and scenery room. It connects both to this office and to the back stage of the theater. It will be open this afternoon shortly after the last bell has rung. You come here to meet up with Nancy and Del."

She took a few steps toward the other side of her office and opened the door to a larger room used to store props and some scenery. "I’ll check to make sure those boys did bring the prop guns back," Mrs. Catania said, flipping on the light switch. Then she paused and stared in disbelief.

Trixie and Honey entered the prop room behind her and followed her gaze. Along one wall was a rack where dozens of colorful costumes hung. The front of the rack, however, was in disarray: costumes were strewn around the floor and tables. What looked to have been a fancy blue and white cowgirl suit was ripped and barely hanging on the hanger. Di stepped into the room then and let out a small scream.

"My costumes!" she cried.

 

Chapter 3: Why Di?

"Lord, have mercy, what has happened here?" Mrs. Catania stood quietly looking at the shredded costume. Then she clinched her fists. "I’ll bet it’s those boys. Those hooligans."

The girls watched as the drama coach moved over to the costume rack to inspect the damage. "Was everything all right when you left after the last rehearsal?" Trixie ventured, her voice sounding small and hesitant.

"Yes, and the room was locked up tight as a drum until this morning. Those boys were probably here dropping off those props and they took advantage of the opportunity to do some mischief. This is just to get back at me, I’m sure."

"But why my costumes?" Di asked in a small voice. She had sunk into a straight backed chair just inside the prop room.

"Oh, those were just the first ones handy," Mrs. Catania waved her hand vaguely. "But Mrs. T, our wardrobe mistress and seamstress, will be furious. If I’m not mistaken she had just delivered those last two costumes of yours this morning." Mrs. Catania gestured to the sky blue jersey and then headed over to the opposite wall to inspect the shelves of props. "We can at least find out if those boys were in here – if the prop pistols have been replaced then they definitely were here."

Trixie frowned and went over to the torn costumes. "It is odd that none of the other costumes were even touched," she said. "If they were just doing random harm, why weren't more costumes torn or more damage done to the room?"

"They probably didn't have time. Maybe they thought someone was coming," Mrs. Catania was throwing out possibilities while she moved props around on the shelves. "I can’t see where those pistols are."

Mrs. Catania turned back around. A copy of the student newspaper, the Campus Clarion, lay crumpled atop one of the work tables. Ms. Catania tossed the newspaper aside to reveal two silver pistols. She held them up. "See?! They just tossed them here. They must have been in a hurry either to do some more mischief or to get out before they were found out," she said. "I’ll call the vice principal – he’s in charge of building security. Oh, and I’ve got to call Mrs. T about getting replacement costumes," talking more to herself than the girls, the drama coach hurried back into her office.

Trixie looked at the destroyed cowgirl suit again and then went to Mrs. Catania’s office. While the drama coach flipped through a jumbled rolodex for phone numbers, Trixie picked up the blue material and scissors from the desk, brought them back to the costume room and held the fabric up to the cowgirl suit.

"It matches, " Trixie said.

"Yes, that was part of the sleeve," Diana confirmed.

Mrs. Catania came back in, then. "The vice principal’s on the way to see this. I’ve left a message for Mrs. T. She’ll have to redo Di’s costumes in addition to finishing the costumes for the chorus members. Do either of you girls sew?" she asked abruptly.

"I do!" Honey was so surprised at the sudden question that she wasn’t at all shy in speaking up.

"Good. You’ll help Mrs. T replace Di’s costumes," Mrs. Catania commanded.

Trixie looked more closely at the scissors she held. The handles were set with what looked to be inexpensive colored stones, like rhinestones. Along the outer blade she saw a name engraved, Cleo Travers.

"Is Mrs. T, Mrs. Travers?" she asked the drama coach.

Mrs. Catania looked over at Trixie in surprise. "Why yes, how did you know?"

"That’s the name on these scissors. A lucky guess," Trixie said casually. "Don’t you think it’s odd the way Mrs. Travers’ scissors were placed in your office on top of the material that was part of Di’s costume?"

"Yes, it is odd," Mrs. Catania said slowly. "I wonder if those boys meant to implicate Mrs. Travers and turn suspicion from themselves? Or maybe they were just in a hurry and dropped them anywhere."

"How do you know it’s those boys?" Trixie asked.

'"I don’t," Mrs. Catania said candidly. "But, they admit they were in here this morning. Since I fired them from working backstage they have a reason to be angry at the show. At least, they may think they do. They are known trouble-makers."

"Didn’t they say that Del had let them in? Would he know anything about this?" Trixie asked.

Mrs. Catania caught her breath and frowned. "Yes, but I hate to think -- I just can’t imagine that Del would be in on this," Mrs. Catania frowned and seemed to be weighing what she knew. "He’s the Technical Director and I know he takes his responsibilities seriously. But I do know he sometimes associates with those boys. I think one is a cousin. Maybe Del loaned those boys the keys. Or, opened the door for them and left them alone. The door can be set to stay open or lock automatically when you leave," Mrs. Catania crossed to the door and demonstrated how the lock could be set manually. "He shouldn’t have done either of those, however. That was careless. Especially given his position."

"What does a Technical Director do?" Trixie asked.

"Basically he’s responsible for everything technical: lighting, sound, making sure the sets get built on time. He’s not responsible for these costumes, but he is responsible for the safety of people on stage and should be thinking about the overall security of the production," Mrs. Catania turned and replaced the pistols on the shelf. "Especially given the run of incidents we’ve been having," she muttered under her breath.

Trixie recalled how sullen and uncommunicative Del had seemed. Had he known that more trouble was brewing all the while Mrs. Catania had been scolding his friends? Aloud she asked, "Were you here all morning, Mrs. Catania?"

"Oh no," the drama coach replied. "I came in my office the first thing, but I didn’t come in the prop room until just now. I have a full schedule of classes for the first three hours. I came back here just five minutes before you girls did. I had met Del, Greg, and Tony in the hall and had asked them to come back here and talk with me."

"You said that this Mrs. T delivered the costumes this morning?" Trixie asked.

"Yes, she has a key of her own," Mrs. Catania replied. "She probably came in early, when she brought Alison, her daughter, to school."

"So that’s someone else who was in here this morning," Trixie said. "I wonder if she or Alison saw anything."

'"I don’t know. But we’ll certainly ask. Maybe they noticed the boys hanging around."

"What do those boys have against Di?" Trixie persisted.

"Well, nothing. But why do you keep assuming all this is against Di?" Mrs. Catania countered.

"Because Di’s the one directly harmed in this incident and she’s been the only one harmed in a string of other incidents, such as talc in her props," Trixie said.

"How did you know about that?" Mrs. Catania looked hard at Trixie.

Trixie gulped, realizing too late that she’d given away what Di had said in confidence. "Well, you see, Honey and I saw that Di was kinda…well, we were talking to her, we were, you know…I was going to help her rehearse her scenes, and we just wanted to help…"

"Mrs. Catania, I told Trixie and Honey some of what has happened on the set," Di broke in firmly as Trixie’s explanations scattered incoherently. She stood up and walked to the worktables "I explained to them that it’s important that no one get the impression the production is in trouble. I swore them to secrecy and I know them: they’d never tell."

"Just so you remember that if anyone asks, this show is going just fine! It’s going to be a wonderful production!" Mrs. Catania wagged her finger at the girls sternly. Trixie and Honey nodded energetically.

Mrs. Catania held up the crumpled front page of the Campus Clarion, pointed at the headline and read. "It says, ‘Annie Get Your Gun Production on Target.’ We’ve been getting some good publicity and good word of mouth. I don’t want anything spoiling that now. This musical is less than a month away. And we are staying on target!" She rattled the paper at the girls as if they might be inclined to argue the point.

"Anyway, that problem with the talc was just carelessness," she continued. "And those other things were just coincidences. I mean, who’d want to hurt Diana?" Mrs. Catania asked in bewilderment.

"Yes, who?" Trixie echoed, looking down at the fabric and scissors she held in her hands. "Whoever did this had something..." she stopped herself, not wanting to make Diana more worried.

"Besides, it could just as well be against Mrs. Travers," Mrs. Catania went on as if Trixie hadn’t spoken. "I mean, the scissors are hers, so they implicated her, and tearing up the costumes hurts her about as much as Diana. She’s the one who’ll have to work overtime to replace the costumes."

Before Trixie could remind the drama coach again that other incidents had been directed at Di, the phone in Mrs. Catania’s office rang and she hurried back to answer it. While she talked on the phone Trixie, Honey and Di held a hurried conference. They agreed that Trixie and Honey should make whatever arrangements they had to, to join the crew.

Di walked quietly over to the costume rack, leaned over and fingered the remainder of the blue jersey outfit thoughtfully. As Trixie and Honey watched, the worry on her face shifted to determination. She straightened her shoulders.

"I’m not going to let them stop me," her voice was quiet, but resolved. "Mrs. Catania is right: this production is staying on target."

Trixie couldn’t find her voice, but she nodded, her eyes shining in admiration.

The hallway door to the prop room opened then and Mr. Reed, Sleepyside High’s vice principal, came striding in. Mrs. Catania returned and immediately launched into a recital of the events. She explained that Chris Delaney, the Tech Director, had given the boys access to the prop room sometime that morning and they had returned the silver prop pistols. Other than that time, as far as she knew, Mrs. Catania said, the room had been locked until she and the girls had just walked in.

"Um, except didn’t you say the wardrobe mistress delivered costumes sometime this morning?" Trixie asked in a low voice.

"Well, yes, Mrs. T brought these costumes in sometime. The very costumes that have been destroyed," Mrs. Catania added hastily.

As Mrs. Catania talked, the vice-principal inspected the costume rack. "Is this how you found it?" he asked. "Is this all the damage?"

"Yes, we haven’t moved anything," Mrs. Catania said.

"Except these scissors," Trixie walked over to the work table. "They were in Mrs. Catania’s office, along with a blue swatch of cloth from one of the destroyed costumes, sitting on top of that stack of books in the center of the desk," Trixie said, pointing toward the desk in Mrs. Catania’s office. "It was odd. It was like someone did it on purpose to call attention to them."

Mr. Reed looked at her skeptically from behind his tortoise shell glasses and then turned and looked at Honey and Di, as if noticing the three girls for the first time. "What are these students doing here?" he spoke pointedly to Mrs. Catania. "I think it would be better not to talk about this with students around until we’ve had a chance to investigate."

Mrs. Catania nodded. "You girls run on to lunch now and come back after classes.," she said. "And, remember girls, the play is going just fine!"

Trixie clenched her hands in frustration but she could see they were going to have to obey the vice principal.

"These scissors belong to Mrs. Travers," she said, placing them on the work table.

"I think the boys may have put them in my office to try to implicate Mrs. Travers, our wardrobe mistress," Mrs. Catania said quickly.

"Very well, I’ll look into it. You girls go onto the cafeteria," Mr. Reed said firmly, waving them toward the door.

Consulting their watches, the girls realized they hardly had time to eat and decided just to pick up some juice from vending machines in the cafeteria.

"Let’s just grab the boys and explain what’s happened," Trixie said as she fed quarters into the machine.

"Can we explain?" Honey asked. "I mean, are we supposed to let anyone know the production’s having troubles?"

"We need the boys’ help. At least I need help if I’m going to be relieved from some of my chores," Trixie said. "Besides, something about what’s been done to the costumes is bound to leak out. But, what do you think, Di?"

"I think it will be alright," Di said. "Word will probably get out about what’s happened, so we won’t be telling them something they wouldn’t hear about elsewhere. We just have to explain to them that they shouldn’t add fuel to the fire and they should keep a positive image of the show."

Looking around, Honey spotted Jim, Mart, and Brian and the girls headed over to join the boys.

"I’m calling an emergency meeting of the BWGs," Trixie said, as she pulled out her chair. Trixie and Jim served as co-presidents of the club.

Brian groaned, rolling his deep brown eyes. "Gleeps, Trixie! Every meeting’s an emergency when you’re involved."

"Don’t start with me," Trixie retorted. "This really is an emergency. Di’s in danger!"

"Danger! What are you talking about?" Brian was still skeptical.

"Perfectly ordinary secondary educational facility with All American students," Mart said. Ostentatiously, he began to look around, making a show of lifting his lunch tray and looking under it, then peeking under the table. "Nothing here or there, but if our excitable sibling declares danger, well, call out the National Guard! Or, at least the local Bob-Whites!"

"C’mon, you guys," Honey said, with unaccustomed fierceness. "This is serious. Someone has been playing some very mean tricks on Di. Tell them, Di," Honey turned to Di.

After extracting the same promise of secrecy from the boys that she’d demanded of Honey and Trixie, Di quickly related some of the problems that had been occurring on the set, culminating in the destruction of her costumes.

Brian whistled. "That does sound serious, Di," he said sympathetically.

"I’m sorry to hear about the trouble," Jim said. "I built a stair case and some other scenery for the show as one of my shop projects."

"Yeah, I’ve also lent my more modest carpentry skills on some of the scenery," Mart added. He held up a copy of the Campus Clarion. "This is a great picture of you, Di, and the article is filled with encomiums for the production. It makes it sound like this is going to be a ‘really big shoe,’" Mart said, in a dead-on imitation of Ed Sullivan.

"It’s one of the biggest productions Sleepyside High has ever mounted," Di confirmed.

"And someone’s trying to ruin it, at least for Di," Trixie concluded. She frowned and reached for the newspaper. "Did this issue come out today?"

"Hot off the presses," Mart replied.

"There was a copy crumpled in the prop room on top of the prop guns," Trixie mused.

"Trixie’s already trying to assimilate the crime scene," Brian said, a look of amusement on his handsome face. "Look, I agree that this is very important, but, if Mr. Reed has taken over, we Bob-Whites can hardly rush in and make a citizen’s arrest."

"I don’t know how Mr. Reed will get to the bottom of it.," Trixie said, shrugging. "It’s pretty clear that he and Mrs. Catania don’t take it seriously that this is all aimed at Di. They think it’s just general vandalism."

"Why shouldn’t it be general vandalism, Trixie?" Jim asked, twirling an apple in his hands.

"Because it was only Di’s costumes that were destroyed. And Di’s the one whose allergies were purposely enflamed. And on and on," Trixie said.

"That’s still assuming a lot," Brian said. "There are other possibilities from the evidence, dear Sherlock. Someone could just believe that the best way to wreak havoc on the show is to harass the lead. It may not be personally aimed at Di."

"Then why isn’t anything happening to Robert Wells, the actor who’s playing Frank Butler, the male lead?" Trixie asked.

Brian raised his eyebrows, shrugged, then nodded slowly, "You’ve got me there."

"Whether it’s aimed at me or not, it makes me feel better just knowing Trixie and Honey will be around," Di said.

Honey explained then that she and Trixie planned to join the production behind the scenes. "Actually, we don’t even have a choice any more," Honey said ruefully. "Mrs. Catania has already drafted me to help sew new costumes for Di."

"And I’m the new stage hand," Trixie said. "Whatever that means."

Brian looked at Trixie. "Putting on a play takes a lot of time. Di’s been at it day and night ever since we’ve been back from Arizona. When are you going to find the time to be a stage hand and still keep up with all your chores and homework?"

Trixie honestly didn't know how she was going to do it. She stared at her orange juice, hoping an answer would float to the top. Aloud she said, "It’s only two weeks. I think when I explain to Moms and Dad they’ll give me a break. Mrs. Catania says it’s very educational," Trixie’s voice trailed off.

"Uh-oh, my infallible meteorological instrumentation tells me which way this wind is blowing," Mart said, licking his index finger and sticking it in the air. "Trix here thinks she’s found a way to get out of Bobby-sitting and doing the dishes and leaving it all to me!"

"As if you’ve so much as dipped your hands in dishwater in this millennium," Trixie retorted.

"My helping hands have been fully occupied assisting our paternal parent as he repaints the picturesque Belden abode, commonly known as Crabapple Farm," Mart replied. "Be that as it may, there’s already a schedule conflict. In case you’ve forgotten, you were slated as the designated caregiver for young Master Robert Belden this afternoon after school."

Trixie slumped in her seat. She’d completely forgotten about promising to babysit Bobby while her mother shopped in White Plains.

"Look, I know there are problems, but can’t we work something out?" Honey pleaded. "You should have seen those costumes. They were ripped to shreds. And, you can see that Di’s allergies are making her miserable!"

The six Bob-Whites sat quietly, each staring at the table.

After a minute Jim broke the silence. "We’re supposed to be here for each other," he said slowly. "This is really important to Di. So let’s see what we can do to put the Schoolgirl Shamuses on the case. This will take some arranging. Remember, we’ve all got lots of responsibilities. You Beldens have your chores and there’s one other obligation we all have: exercising the horses. We can’t let Regan down after we’ve just been back from Arizona for a little over a month."

Jim’s reminder about Regan quieted the group again.

"I can do some of Honey’s riding, but not all of it because I’ve got my responsibility to Mr. Maypenny," Jim added. Jim served as a part-time gamekeeper to the Wheeler’s full time gamekeeper, Mr. Maypenny, who lived on a small, piece of land located inside the Wheeler game preserve.

"I’ll get up early on some of the school mornings and ride so you don’t have to do it all," Honey said quickly.

"All right," Brian said evenly. "I’ll do what I can to take over some of Trixie’s chores at home and take some of her riding turns. But, neither Mart nor I can do them all, plus our own chores."

"That’s great," Trixie said gratefully. Brian took a very dim view of anyone who shirked responsibilities, especially his younger siblings, but he was quick to help anyone for a good cause. "I’ll just have to work extra hard, that’s all." She turned to Mart. "I suppose you’re going to try to blackball the plan," Trixie said.

"Not at all, not at all," Mart said. "I’m as eager as you are to apprehend the dastardly villain who’s threatening this theatrical undertaking. Not only will I agree to undertake some of your household and equestrian responsibilities, but just to demonstrate the magnanimity and nobility of my character, I’ll do your babysitting for you this afternoon."

Trixie groaned. "You’re too kind, Your Magnanimous-ness," she said, making a half-bow in Mart’s direction. "How can I ever repay you?"

"Oh, I’ll find a way for you to repay me," Mart said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "With interest!"

 

Chapter 4: Cui Bono?

Though she struggled, Trixie found it next to impossible to pay attention in her afternoon classes. The immediate problem of who might be sabotaging the set of Annie Get Your Gun seemed so much more important than the role of the topic sentence in a paragraph or the presidential elections in the 1800’s.

The scissors and cloth left on Mrs. Catania’s desk confused Trixie. They seemed to point so blatantly to Mrs. Travers. Who would do that and why? Surely no one who was responsible for the vandalism would want to leave something that belonged to them out in plain view.

"And, they seemed to be prominently displayed which seems so odd," Trixie thought. "It’s as if someone wanted to make sure the scissors were seen."

If someone had purposely left the scissors on the drama coach’s desk to implicate Mrs. Travers, as Mrs. Catania had speculated, then how would they have gotten hold of Mrs. Travers’ scissors, Trixie wondered. "That’s something I forgot to ask," she thought. "Maybe I can meet Mrs. Travers during rehearsals and ask her when she noticed that her scissors were missing," she made a mental note to herself.

And then there was the question that Mr. Reed and Mrs. Catania kept dismissing, but Trixie considered paramount: why Di? What would Greg and Tony have against Di?

Trixie’s thoughts circled back to Mrs. Catania’s other explanation: that whoever had destroyed the costumes had dropped the scissors on her desk because they’d been in a hurry.

"Someone in a hurry," Trixie mused. She recalled the encounter she and Di had had with Alison Travers on the way to study hall that morning. Alison had come rushing around the corner from the general direction of the theater and then, when she’d run into Di, she’d turned red and darted away.

In retrospect, the girl’s frightened attitude began to appear suspicious to Trixie. "She looked like she’d been caught red-handed. She’s got something to hide," Trixie decided. "I wonder just how badly she wanted the part of Annie Oakley."

"So, Jim’s mentioned Alison?" Trixie said casually to Honey when they met back by their lockers after classes.

"Yes, just in passing," Honey said, neatly stacking her books on the top shelf of her locker. "Jim’s very observant, you know. After his own troubles at home, he picks up on other people who are distressed."

Jim Frayne had previously lived with his greedy and bad-tempered stepfather, a man Jim referred to simply as Jonesy. When Jim’s mother died, Jonesy had bullied Jim and made him work long hours. Jim had run away from home and taken shelter in his uncle’s vacant and neglected mansion, Ten Acres, which overlooked the Belden’s Crabapple Farm from the hill opposite the Wheeler’s Manor House. While exploring one day, Trixie and Honey had found Jim and uncovered clues leading to the recovery of Jim’s inheritance from his uncle, who by then was deceased. Shortly afterwards, Honey’s parents had adopted Jim.

"You said that Jim says Alison seems frightened?" Trixie asked.

"Yes. Jim says it’s like there’s a shadow in her eyes. Jim says –"

"’Jim says, Jim says.’ Who knew my dear sister took my words so to heart?" the girls turned to see Jim threading his way through the passing students to his locker.

"You’ve been popping up out of nowhere all day today!" Trixie exclaimed.

"I guess that makes me a true Bob-White, doesn’t it?" Jim smiled breezily. "Besides, someone’s got to keep you girls honest."

Trixie and Honey rolled their eyes. "Well, you’re a bit behind the time," Trixie said. "I’ve already got the mystery solved."

Honey gasped. "Already?!

"Well, at least I have a prime suspect," Trixie amended.

"Who’s your suspect, Trixie?" Honey asked.

Trixie shook her head. "All in due time, Watson. But, tell me Jim," Trixie looked around to see if anyone was listening and then lowered her voice. "Has Alison Travers ever mentioned performing in the musical to you?"

"Sure. I think she’s shy about performing on stage, but she really does enjoy the music," Jim said.

"Did she happen to say anything about Di? Like, has she said anything about Di’s allergies and losing her voice? Made any comment that she might have to take over the part?"

"Not that I recall, but I haven’t talked to her lately. She wasn’t in Chemistry this morning," Jim shut his locker door and secured the lock.

Trixie’s ears perked up. "Not in class? When do you have Chemistry?"

"Second period," Jim said.

"That’s right," Trixie said excitedly. "She couldn’t have been in Chemistry because she nearly ran down Di and I right before third period and she wasn’t coming from the Chem labs. She was coming from the direction of the theater."

"Oh, Trixie, you don’t think…" Honey began.

Jim’s green eyes narrowed. "Now see here, Trixie Belden. Don’t you go jumping to conclusions. Just because Alison was rushing down the hall isn’t proof of anything. People rush down the hall every day."

Trixie didn’t say anything, but she was thinking, "Yes, but not everyone is rushing from the direction where major mayhem has just been committed. Mayhem that gets them the lead in the musical if it makes Di drop out."

Honey tapped Trixie’s shoulder. "We’d better get going," she said. "We’re supposed to meet Chris Delaney and Nancy before regular practice starts."

"Right, let’s go," Trixie quickly closed and locked her locker door. When she turned around, Jim was leaning against the lockers, a stern look on his face.

"I mean it, Trixie," he said. "I’m glad for all of us Bob-Whites to support Di. And if you solve a mystery, great. But don’t go making trouble."

"Trouble’s already being made," Trixie said tartly. "We’re just going to find out who’s doing the making."

"I just have a feeling that Alison needs the help of the Bob-Whites as much as Di does," Jim said.

The seriousness of his tone brought Trixie up short. "Okay, okay," she stammered. "I’ll be careful." With that Trixie and Honey hurried off to the prop room.

"Trixie, you don’t really suspect that sweet Alison Travers, do you?" Honey whispered as the girls hurried along.

"Well, the first rule in investigating any crime is to ask, cui bono?" Trixie said.

"Qwee what?" Honey frowned.

"Cui bono. Mart taught that to me, of course. It’s Latin and it’s the only Latin I know or am ever likely to learn," Trixie giggled. "It means, ‘who benefits?’ And you have to recognize that Alison stands to benefit from this sabotage. If Di drops out of the musical, Alison becomes the lead," Trixie said.

"Yes, but honestly, Trixie, I don’t know if she thinks of that as a benefit. Jim says she’s really very shy about performing. Jim says she may not even want the lead. You heard him."

"’Jim says, Jim says,’" Trixie imitated Jim’s teasing tone with a grin. "We’ll just see if Jim knows what he’s talking about. But in the mean time, we need a game plan. If you are going to be assigned to help Mrs. Travers work on costumes, maybe you can do something to make sure you get to work on Di’s. That way, you can help to protect them or at least keep track of what’s going on."

"I see what you’re saying, Trixie. Apparently, there are still some other costumes to be completed for the members of the chorus. But since I’m a newcomer, I don’t know if I’ll get much say in it."

"Use your famous tact," Trixie grinned. Honey’s diplomatic approach to others was often very effective in getting other people to do what she wanted, more effective, Trixie knew, than her own tendency to blurt things out.

The girls entered the prop room and saw that Nancy Norland was already there. A trim girl with short, dark brown hair and glasses, she was staring intently at her clipboard, methodically going down a page, making checkmarks. She looked up as Honey and Trixie entered. "Hi, you guys!" she said brightly. "Glad you are coming on board!"

"We just hope we can actually help," Honey said sincerely. "We really are novices."

"That's no problem, willing hands are always welcome. I think we have a couple of more new crew members who will be joining us later. Mrs. Catania said that Honey is to be assigned to Mrs. Travers, at least for the next week or so, to make sure we have our costumes in order. Then you can lend a hand with make-up and costume changes. And, Trixie, you’ll start out backstage. We’ll put you in charge of a couple of prop tables and I think you’ll help change scenery. We have some heavy rostra and lots of flats," Nancy said.

"Flats? Rostra? Trixie asked, already feeling out of her depth.

"Sorry!" Nancy smiled. "Flats and rostra are terms for specific kinds of scenery. We’ll show you that later today or at least I will," Nancy hesitated and bit her lip. "Del’s not here yet. He’s talking with the vice-principal."

"Have they learned anything more about what happened to the costumes?" Trixie asked.

Nancy shook her head briefly and her brows knit slightly. "I don’t know what’s going on," she said shortly. "Mrs. Travers hasn’t arrived either, Honey. So why don’t I give you two a quick backstage tour while we’re waiting?" Nancy picked up the two silver pistols that Tony and Jeff had "borrowed" and handed them to Trixie. "These are used by Annie Oakley and they can be the first props you take charge of. They belong on a prop table back stage."

"Mrs. Catania showed them to us, but I hadn’t had a chance to look at them closely," Trixie said. "I have to admit I can see why someone would be tempted. These are beautiful." Trixie ran her hands over the silver engraving and faux pearl grips.

"They look a little too real!" Honey said with a small shudder.

"They’re called blank pistols," Nancy replied. "They make a nice, loud bang, but not to worry, they can't fire real ammo. C’mon, let’s head backstage."

Nancy opened the door that led from the prop room to the backstage of the theatre. The door swung open and the girls entered a stage that was dark except for a dim yellow light shining from a pole at center stage. The light gave the theater an eerie glow and threw large shadows against the walls.

"It’s almost ghostly," Honey said with a nervous laugh.

"As a matter of fact, that is a ghostlight," Nancy said. She reached over and flipped on several switches, completely illuminating the stage area.

"A ghostlight?" Trixie asked curiously.

"Yes. That’s what it’s called," Nancy said as she turned off the ghostlight and moved the pole from center stage to the wings. "There’s a long tradition in theatres of leaving a light on stage when no one is around. Some people say if the stage is completely dark for too long, a ghost will take up residence and cause accidents backstage. So, that’s why it’s called a ghostlight."

"Jeepers, are you sure the ghostlight has been on? I mean, you have had quite a few accidents. Maybe you’ve got a ghost who’s miffed!" Trixie said lightly, but Nancy frowned.

"It’s been on, I’ve seen to that."

"I didn’t mean anything – " Trixie started to say.

"I know. It’s all right," Nancy replied. "I just wish someone could find out what’s going on. Some of what’s been happening seems accidental or people just not thinking. Then, other times…" she nodded toward the prop room, leaving unspoken the destruction of Di’s costumes, which had clearly been harmed on purpose.

"Trixie’s really good at finding out what’s going on," Honey said.

"Yes, I’ve heard about Trixie’s adventures as a detective. But, I don’t know about this. You’ll be busy back stage and Mr. Reed is making inquiries and taking charge of that now," Nancy said. "But I just hope someone can get to the bottom of this! I don’t want to get to Opening Night with a mischievous ghost on the loose backstage!"

 

Chapter 5: Trixie Sets Her Sights

Nancy shook her head as though to shake off her worries about the production. "Anyway, the ghostlight does keep the first cast or crew members who arrive from tripping as they fumble for the lights."

She showed Trixie and Honey around backstage, pointing out several features as she went: lighting, the wings, the staging area for the scenery, and the trap door at the back of the stage, which led to dressing rooms under the stage floor. It was all so unfamiliar that Trixie’s head was spinning by the end of the tour.

"Just watch the others for today," Nancy said reassuringly.

The technical part of the show had not yet been fully combined with the actors, Nancy explained. For the initial rehearsals, the actors had rehearsed without scenery and with just a few props. Subsequently, a few scenic elements, props, and lighting had been gradually added in to give the crew a chance to learn how to work around the actors and the actors a chance to get used to the staging. The first full Technical rehearsal with all lighting and complete scenery changes, she explained, would be on the coming Saturday when the cast and crew would have all day to work through glitches.

As Nancy talked, the stage began to fill with cast and other crew members. Trixie and Honey knew some of the students and chatted with them as they milled around, getting ready for rehearsal. Shortly before the rehearsal was to begin Alison Travers walked backstage from the prop room. She was composed but very serious, as if lost in thought. Immediately behind Alison, came Mrs. Catania with a tall red-haired woman. The woman’s hair was so bright that Trixie assumed it was dyed.

"Oh, you there, young lady," Mrs. Catania called, wagging her finger at Honey. "Here is Mrs. T, our wardrobe mistress and this is Honey Wheeler," she said, completing the introduction.

"How do you do?" Honey said politely.

"Hi-dy, yourself," the woman said, popping her gum.

"Um, is it Mrs. T?" Honey asked.

"Sure thing, sweetie. I mean Honey! Ha! Ha!" Mrs. Travers’s big hoop earrings shook as she laughed loudly at her own joke.

Trixie rolled her eyes but Honey managed a weak smile.

"It’s Mrs. T, short for Travers. Here’s my card. You see, it says, ‘Mrs. T, seamstress, suits you to a T!’" Mrs. Travers smiled and whipped out a small white card and handed it to Honey. Trixie looked over her friend’s shoulder and saw the seamstress’s name and address along with a picture of a needle and thread and the slogan, "Suits You to a T."

"Now you can come with me, Honey," Mrs. Travers said. Smiling and smacking her gum again, she led Honey back to the prop room. Trixie watched the two leave, thinking that she’d taken an instant dislike to "Mrs. T" and her gushy manner. Too late, she realized that she had missed an opportunity to ask Mrs. Travers about her scissors. "I’ll have to find time later today or maybe tomorrow," she reminded herself.

But there was no time to think more about Mrs. Travers. Mrs. Catania had moved to center stage, and was calling the cast and crew to order. "Before we get started, I just want to say a few words about some mischief that’s been occurring," she said. "You may have heard rumors and some of you may have been called in by the vice-principal, Mr. Reed, to find out what you know or have heard. I’m sure we can count on everyone to cooperate fully."

While Mrs. Catania spoke, Trixie looked around as casually as she could. Alison was staring into space, absentmindedly fiddling with the ruffle on her white blouse. Del came walking through the prop room entrance and stood at the fringe of the assembled cast and crew, restlessly brushing his hair back from his face.

"I’ll bet he’s just come from the Mr. Reed’s office," Trixie thought.

"Some damage has been done to some of the costumes," Mrs. Catania was saying. "However, our excellent wardrobe mistress, Mrs. T, is making sure that we have replacements. We will not let a little thing like this stop us. We don’t know who is behind this," as she was speaking, Mrs. Catania turned slightly and her eyes happened to light on Del. At Mrs. Catania’s words, his face took on a resentful look and turned a deep red. Trixie noted that Alison had quickly dipped her face and was staring fixedly at the floor. But we will find out who is responsible and this will be the best musical production Sleepyside High has ever seen!"

There was a slight pause and cast and crew looked at each other uncertainly. Then, rallied by Di and Nancy Norland, everyone applauded. Mrs. Catania announced the start of the rehearsal and the crew members hurried to take their places.

Del buckled on a toolbelt and walked across the stage, ignoring others as he passed them. He barely greeted Nancy when he approached and said nothing at all to Trixie.

"I’m on probation," he told Nancy, his voice flat. "Here are my keys to the auditorium and the prop room. If I need to get in at times other than regular rehearsals, I’m to ask you or Mrs. Catania."

For a moment Nancy just looked at the keys Del had put in her hand. Then she said quietly, "Gosh, I’m sorry, Del. What’s going on?"

"I don’t know," Del said emphatically, avoiding Nancy’s gaze.

Trixie couldn’t keep silent. "But didn’t you let Tony and Greg into the prop room this morning?" she asked. "Did you see or notice anything?"

Del blinked and then waved his hand vaguely. "I don’t know a thing," he said and abruptly walked off.

"I guess I shouldn’t have blurted that out," Trixie said to Nancy. "It’s just that Di’s my friend and we were there when the damage was found."

Nancy was watching Del depart. "I know. This is all so mysterious, I just don’t know what to make of it," she said in frustration. But she quickly became the cool and collected stage manager again. "There’s no point in worrying, we’ve got work to do. Hopefully, Mr. Reed will get to the bottom of this. Come with me," she led Trixie over to the side of the stage and gathered two other students who were new to the crew. "Just listen and watch my cues and try to get familiar with some of the procedures," she said.

For the next few hours Trixie tried to watch everything as carefully as she could. In some ways, Trixie discovered, being backstage was even more exciting than watching a show from the audience. Flats, she discovered, were flat wooden frames onto which painted scenery was mounted. Rostra was simply the plural of rostrum, which were small platforms of varying sizes that provided additional elevation on stage.

The rehearsal started with the scene in which Annie Oakley first meets Frank Butler, the sharp-shooting star of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. A tall, dark-haired senior, Robert Wells, who Trixie knew slightly, played Frank.

Di was whispering her lines and songs to avoid straining her voice further. But, Trixie could tell that her determination from earlier in the day was holding firm. She had to ask Nancy for a line prompt a couple of times, but she didn’t get flustered, even when Mrs. Catania scolded her for her lapses.

On the other side of the stage, Trixie saw that Alison was watching every move and taking notes. Sometimes she seemed to be mouthing Annie’s lines along with Di.

"Alison looks like she’s hanging on every word," Trixie whispered to Nancy at one point.

"Yes, as the understudy she’s got to be able to go on at a moment’s notice and be able to play the part just as the lead actor has rehearsed it," Nancy explained.

Whenever Trixie happened to glance around and spot Del he was still scowling and seemed not to have a polite word for anyone.

"He’s really feeling the weight of suspicion," Trixie thought. "I wonder what Mr. Reed has found out – and if he’ll tell the rest of us."

But Trixie didn’t have much time for speculation and before she realized the time had passed, Mrs. Catania called the rehearsal to an end. She gave a flurry of instructions for study and practice. Then she announced that, because of the new crew members, the next day’s rehearsal would be moved to the music room and practice would be limited to the major characters. This would give the crew a chance to have the theater completely to themselves and Del and Nancy could show the new crewmembers their jobs more thoroughly. It would also give the entire crew an opportunity to walk through the technical cues without any actors present.

"The crew should expect to stay later tomorrow. We’ve got some catching up to do," Mrs. Catania warned. "Everyone be here right on time tomorrow!"

Trixie looked around for Honey. She soon spotted her coming out of the prop room with Mrs. Travers. Honey was carrying a large shopping bag while Mrs. Travers carried her sewing kit, Trixie noticed, and talked animatedly to Honey. Alison approached her mother as Honey started to leave and join Trixie. Quickly, Trixie covered the distance between herself and Honey, pulled Honey’s arm and headed back, as casually as she could, in the direction of Alison and her mother.

"I need to bring an absence excuse to Chemistry tomorrow," Alison was saying to her mother.

To Trixie’s ear, Alison’s voice sounded on edge and Mrs. Travers, she noticed, seemed surprised and then angry.

"Were you sick, too, Alison?" Trixie tried to keep her voice light as she butted in on their conversation. "What are the odds of having both Annies under the weather!"

Alison whirled around when Trixie spoke. She turned deep red. "I – I had a doctor’s appointment," she said and turned quickly back to her mother. "I’ll wait for you in the car, Mother," she said and hurried toward the prop room.

Mrs. Travers gave Trixie a sharp glance, then pasted a smile back on her face and rushed off to speak with Mrs. Catania.

Di and some of the other lead actors were staying to confer with Mrs. Catania, so Trixie and Honey waved good night to her and then collected their books, coats, and scarves and walked out into the cold night air.

"Boy, am I glad I have rich friends with chauffeurs!" Trixie said with a shiver. "Because it’s a long, cold walk to Crabapple Farm."

"Oh, come now, if it came to that Brian would give you a ride in his jalopy," Honey said.

"Yes, but the heater’s on the fritz," Trixie said. The girls reached the curb and looked around hopefully for the Wheeler’s limousine. "Did you hear Alison mention that she needs a written excuse from her mother for missing Chemistry?"

"I did, but Trixie, she’s such a sweet girl," Honey began.

"I’m just saying, we know from Jim that she was absent from Chemistry and if you ask me, she sounded nervous about asking for that excuse. Like her mother might not give it to her. And, Mrs. Travers didn’t look too happy!"

"It’s true, she didn't," Honey replied. "But you have to keep in mind that everyone is on edge right now because of all the trouble. Oh, good, here comes Tom."

A long, black limousine drove up and Tom Delanoy, the Wheelers handsome, young chauffeur, got out and held the back door open for the girls. On the ride back to Crabapple Farm and the Manor House, Trixie and Honey compared notes about their first day working behind the scenes.

"How was working with Mrs. T?" Trixie asked.

Honey frowned. "There’s a lot of work. Those costumes for Di have some elaborate beadwork and fringe. We’re going to have to make our fingers fly. But, what seems strange is that there is a full set of costumes for Alison."

"Shouldn’t there be costumes for the understudy?" Trixie asked.

"Yes, if Alison had to go on stage she couldn’t wear Di’s costumes as she is quite a bit taller than Di. But I suggested to Mrs. T that, given the deadlines we’re working with, it would be faster and simpler to shorten a few of Alison’s costumes for Di. They have a similar build, it’s just that Alison is taller. That way we’d know for sure that Di’s costumes are ready to go for opening night and that would relieve some pressure. Then, we could make additional costumes for Alison."

"That sounds sensible. She didn’t agree with that?" Trixie asked.

"No, she insisted on leaving Alison’s costumes just as they are. We aren’t to touch them!"

"That’s mysterious," Trixie said.

Up in the front seat, Tom Delanoy burst out laughing.

"Mysterious?! What are you girls into now? Trapping more jewel thieves?" he asked. Tom had been hired as the Wheelers’ chauffeur in the aftermath of an exciting mystery in which Trixie had exposed the Wheeler’s previous chauffeur as a jewel thief.

"No, just a mischievous ghost," Honey replied.

"Or a jealous ghost," Trixie put in. "Mrs. T seems a lot more concerned about Alison’s costumes than she is about Di’s."

"Well, I know one thing for sure: Di’s going have her costumes and she’ll be wearing them," Honey said.

Trixie looked at her.

Honey held up the shopping bag she’d carried out. "This holds all of the material and patterns for Di’s costumes. I told Mrs. T that Mrs. Catania had specifically said I was to work on Di’s costumes, which is basically true, at least Di’s costumes are the only ones she mentioned. And I also explained that since I live near Di it would make it easier to arrange fittings. So, it’s settled. I’m doing Di’s costumes and I’m not letting this out of my sight!" Honey’s thin face glowed with determination.

For a moment Trixie and Honey grinned at each other and then both girls raised their right arms and slapped hands in a high five.

To Be Continued…

TBH Main