Chapter 6: A Real Mystery

Trixie said goodnight to Honey and Tom and hurried up the walk to Crabapple Farm. "I don’t know what’s the point of bringing these books home," she thought. "I’m much too excited to read history tonight."

"A real mystery again," she thought happily as she opened the door. It seemed like days, not hours, since she’d left Crabapple Farm that morning. She could hear her mother singing in the kitchen and, from the den, the less melodious howls of Bobby as he pestered Mart about something.

"You broke it, Mart!" he was crying.

Mart seemed to be saying something reassuring, but Bobby was having none of it. He burst into the living room, hollering, "I’m going to tell Mommy." Then he saw Trixie and skidded to a stop, promptly forgetting about his grievance with Mart. "Hey, Trix, where you been? Did you bring me anything?"

Trixie hung her coat in the hall closet. "I just got home from school, Bobby."

"You’re late!" Bobby announced, his blonde curls bouncing. "Didja get in trouble? Didja hafta to stay after? Huh? Didja?"

"No, silly. I’m going to help put on a musical. That’s like a play, with songs," Trixie said. "I learned all about spotlights and I saw a trap door today."

"A trap door? What does it trap? Hey, didn’t you bring me nothin’?" he asked again, digging his hands into his pockets.

"Just a hug," Trixie bent down to give him a big hug, but he wiggled away.

"Mommy, Trixie’s home!" he went running into the kitchen.

Trixie followed Bobby into the kitchen. She was relieved to see that her mother had saved her some beef bourgignon and buttered noodles from the Belden’s earlier dinner. Mrs. Belden served Bobby some cherry cobbler and they both sat down at the table with Trixie. As Trixie ate, she described her crowded day, from Di’s plea for help, to meeting Mrs. Catania, to the lengthy rehearsal.

"So, I hope you don’t mind, Moms, and I hope we can work something out with my chores," she said, scraping her plate clean and licking her lips unabashedly. "I wouldn’t have done it without asking, but Di was nearly a basket case and the second Honey and I showed up in her office, Mrs. Catania drafted us into service."

"Mart and Brian explained some of what’s going on and also what they’re willing to do to help out," Moms said. "I think we can be flexible and make it work for the next few weeks."

"Great," Trixie said, folding her napkin and taking a last sip of iced tea.

"I’ve been thinking about what you can do and it occurs to me that we can reduce the number of your ordinary, every day chores and, in their place, you can take on some larger projects. Things that don’t need to be done all at once or at a certain time or done every day. Chores that you can work on when you get the chance."

Trixie nodded.

"Like cleaning the grout in the bathroom tile!" Mrs. Belden said triumphantly.

"Ugh!" Trixie groaned.

Mrs. Belden grinned evilly. Mr. Belden came strolling into the kitchen just then and raised a quizzical eyebrow at Mrs. Belden’s glee and Trixie’s evident misery.

"Dad, did you hear? In place of my everyday chores Moms is assigning me the job of cleaning the bathroom grout!" Trixie moaned.

Mr. Belden got a spoon from a drawer and helped himself to a bite of Bobby’s cobbler. "Sure, Trixie. Didn’t you know? Bobby gets his mischievous streak from your mother!"

"Hey!" Bobby said while Trixie and her parents laughed.

Trixie said good night and went upstairs to her room. She took a shower and managed to read a few pages for her book report for history, but soon felt her eyes growing heavy. She turned out the light and climbed in bed.

For all the joking she knew she was going to have her hands full over the next few weeks. "If I’m going to solve this mystery and help Di, I’m really going to have to take advantage of every minute," she thought.

While Trixie had confidently told Honey and Jim that she had a prime suspect, she realized that, in fact, it was hardly an open and shut case. There seemed to be two basic directions for investigation. One pointed toward Alison Travers and the other toward Tony, Jeff, and possibly Chris Delaney. There were pros and cons in either direction. On the one hand, in Trixie’s estimation, Alison had the strongest motivation to do something that would harm Di.

Plus, she had a suspicious class absence that coincided with the time frame when the costumes had probably been destroyed. Could she have used her mother’s keys to get access to the prop room? Or accompanied her mother when she dropped off the costumes and then made an excuse to stay behind? Could Mrs. Travers even be colluding with Alison in the vandalism?

"But surely she wouldn’t tear up the very costumes she’d just finished," Trixie thought. It seemed more likely that Alison was just desperate to live up to her mother’s expectation that her daughter have the lead.

On the other hand, the boys had been in the prop room also. And, as Mrs. Catania and then Brian had pointed out, while Di was clearly the most directly harmed, the actions might not be directed at her personally. Trixie doubted that, but she grudgingly thought she needed to keep that possibility open.

Plus, she was uncomfortably aware that neither Honey nor Jim suspected Alison or wanted Trixie to. Trixie hated to be going against the two people she considered her best friends in the world. With kind-hearted Honey on Alison’s side it made Trixie feel mean even to suspect her.

Then there was Jim. Of all of her friends and fellow Bob-Whites, Jim was the one whose opinion she most respected. "And I want him to respect me," Trixie thought to herself. She frowned up at the dark ceiling. "Jim seems awfully protective of Alison."

Trixie sighed and turned over on her side. The alternatives, Tony and Jeff, did seem to have some kind of grievance, but if they were the perpetrators, where and how did they get Mrs. T’s scissors? And why leave them out on display?

"Who had a motive to leave the scissors on display?" Again, Trixie couldn't think of an answer to that question.

Turning to consider Tony and Jeff, she suddenly recalled Tony’s statement to Mrs. Catania, "You’ve got bigger problems than a couple of phony guns, lady."

"It’s sounds like he knew about the destroyed costumes," Trixie thought. "Either because he’d participated or he’d come upon the torn costumes when he and Jeff returned the prop guns. And if Tony and Jeff knew, what about Del?"

Yet, Del denied knowing anything. And, he seemed to be one angry young man. Angry enough to take revenge?

"But his anger seems to have started today and the sabotage has been going on for weeks," Trixie recalled. "Maybe he’s not an active participant, but is just covering up for his friends."

Trixie yawned, and tried one more time to think of how all the pieces could fit together. Di, Del, Alison, and other cast and crewmembers started to circle in her mind’s eye. Together with bits of scenery and torn costumes they whirled faster and faster until everything blurred together and Trixie fell asleep.

The next morning Trixie’s thoughts were no clearer, and she was determined to investigate more aggressively at the afternoon rehearsal.

She grabbed a warm biscuit in the kitchen and hurried out the door to the bus stop with Mart and Brian. Honey and Jim had walked down from the Manor House to catch the bus with the Beldens.

The Bob-Whites stamped their feet and rubbed their arms in the cold. Mart smirked as Trixie hurriedly ate her biscuit.

"My, my, Miss Belden, such a nourishing breakfast! Could it be that Sleepyside’s reputed female detective – and I mean reputed in both senses, reputed female and reputed detective -- is slow to attack the day? In contrast to my lugubrious sibling, carpe diem is my motto!"

"Car -pay dee-um?" Honey asked, phonetically repeating what Mart had said.

"That’s Latin for ‘seize the day,’" Mart explained grandly. "It’s the advice of the ancient Roman poet, Horace."

"I’d like to carpe you and throw you in the lake," Trixie said.

"Aha, the subject is exhibiting just the sort of grumpiness that comes without proper nutrition," Mart replied, eyeing Trixie and pretending to make notes on a chart. "I, however, am in the sunniest of moods since I had time for a complete and satisfying morning repast after having risen early to exercise Susie as a favor to my less energetic sibling," Mart leaned over into Trixie’s face. "That would be you. And, since my time last evening was spent in the exquisite torture of Bobby-sitting so that you could play gumshoe, you’d better have something to show for it."

"Maybe now you’ll appreciate how hard I work taking care of Bobby," Trixie retorted. She saw the school bus turning the corner and quickly crammed the rest of her biscuit in her mouth.

"Honey tells me you two are already making some progress," Jim said, interrupting Mart and Trixie’s sibling rivalry with a smile. "Whoever did this, I’d hate to be in their shoes, knowing the intrepid Schoolgirl Shamuses are on my trail!"

Trixie swallowed the last of her biscuit and smiled. "Mock us if you like, Jim Frayne," she said over her shoulder as she climbed on the bus. "But we’ll have the culprit before curtain rises on opening night or my name’s not Beatrix Belden."

"I’m not mocking you," Jim protested, sliding into the seat next to Trixie, as Mart and Brian took the seat across the aisle.

"Be careful, Trix," Honey added with a laugh, taking the seat in front of Trixie and Jim. "You hate your full name!"

"I’m sure Di is already feeling better," Jim continued. "What’s your next move?"

"I was thinking about it last night," Trixie began hesitantly. She described to Honey and Jim how she saw the two separate lines of inquiry. "I hope today in rehearsal to talk to Del and find out more about what those boys saw and what he knows. And, I know you think I’m barking up the wrong tree, but I’d like to find out about Alison’s doctor’s appointment." Trixie quickly told Jim about overhearing Alison’s request to her mother for a doctor’s excuse for missing Chemistry.

Jim frowned. Before he could say anything, Trixie rushed on. "If we could verify that she did have a doctor’s appointment it might rule her out as a suspect," she pointed out. "The costumes were destroyed some time between when Mrs. Travers brought them in on Monday morning and before the start of fourth period on Monday. If Alison was at the doctor’s on Monday morning, that rules her out, at least for part of the time."

The bus pulled up at the stop near the Lynch’s home and Di and two other students climbed on. Di was smiling broadly and, as usual, looked beautiful even if her nose was red from the cold. She greeted Brian and Mart, then slid in next to Honey and turned around and nodded to Trixie and Jim.

"My voice is much better, but I’m still trying to save it," she grinned and pulled two fingers across her mouth in a ‘zip it’ motion. "But I have to tell you that last night I got the first restful sleep I’ve had in a month. You’re a wonder worker, Trixie Belden!"

"But – but, I haven’t done anything yet!" Trixie stammered.

"But you’re on the case," Di said and turned back to Honey who had pulled out some drawings of Di’s costumes and was describing her plans.

Jim looked thoughtfully at Di and Honey, and then turned to Trixie. "I’m telling you, if you suspect Alison, you’re on the wrong track. And I don’t like to spy, but I will see what I can find out. If only so we have all of the information to figure this out. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know."

Trixie’s relief at having Jim’s cooperation buoyed her mood through the school day. She even managed to pay attention in algebra and get most of her algebra homework done in Study Hall. After the last bell she and Honey hurried to rehearsal. They arrived at the prop room to find Mrs. Travers hemming a costume and chatting with Mrs. Catania and Nancy Norland.

"I think sometimes boys just get a bit rambunctious and don’t really think about the consequences of their actions," Mrs. Travers was saying. "But I hope that Del has learned his lesson."

Trixie noticed that Nancy looked unhappy and Mrs. Catania only nodded slightly.

"We don’t know that Del did anything," Nancy said.

"Well, who else?" Mrs. Catania asked. "I brought those costumes in, in one piece yesterday morning. Who else but those boys and how did they get in here without Del’s help?"

"We’ve worked with Del on several plays and never had this kind of trouble," Nancy’s voice trailed off.

"Maybe it was peer pressure," Mrs. Travers said in an overly sweet voice that seemed to be trying to mollify Nancy. "Anyway, we’ll make the best of it, won’t we? Here’s my ‘Honey’ of an assistant! How are you today?" Mrs. Travers smiled at Honey.

Honey replied cheerfully that she was fine.

"Before I forget, I want to invite you two girls to Alison’s Valentine Day’s party, Friday night after rehearsal," Mrs. Travers said. "Nothing formal. It’s for the cast and crew to have a chance for a little fun in the midst of all of our hard work."

Trixie and Honey accepted happily.

"Valentine’s Day," Trixie said. "I’d forgotten all about it."

"Forgotten about Valentine’s Day? What kind of young girl forgets about Valentine’s Day?" Mrs. Travers asked in mock astonishment.

Trixie shrugged.

"Oh, you’re just playing hard to get," Mrs. Travers went on, smiling gaily at everyone. "I’ll bet you’ve got a special Valentine, a pretty girl like you."

"I’m not really the Valentine type," Trixie mumbled, embarrassed at the turn of the conversation.

Nancy laughed. "Trixie’s a real life Annie Oakley. Anything the boys can do, she can do better!"

"Oh really?" Mrs. Travers didn’t look impressed. "Well, that’s not necessarily what attracts the boys. You know what Annie Oakley says, "You Can’t Get a Man With a Gun"! But never you mind, Trixie. We’ll have lots of young men on Friday night. You can go in for some serious target practice that night!"

For the life of her, Trixie couldn’t think of what to say to such remarks, but Mrs. Travers just laughed heartily.

Seeing Trixie’s confusion Honey rushed to question Mrs. Travers about what time they should arrive and if they could help furnish refreshments. They chatted a bit more about the party and Trixie took advantage of the casual conversation to move closer to Mrs. Travers’ worktable. She noticed that the seamstress' sewing kit was sitting open and the scissors were lying on the table beside the kit.

"These are really distinctive scissors," she said. "With your name engraved and everything."

"My sister, Alison’s Aunt Rosalie, gave those to me," Mrs. Travers said. "She knows how I enjoy pretty things."

"Did anybody mention to you that these were found on Mrs. Catania’s desk yesterday, along with some of the material from the destroyed costumes?" Trixie tried to keep her voice neutral and light.

Mrs. Travers smile faded and she fixed her eyes on the material. "I understand those delinquents tried to point the finger at me," she said in a tight voice.

"I just wondered, how would they have gotten hold of the scissors?" Trixie asked.

"Well, I’m sure I don’t know," Mrs. Travers laughed nervously. "Goodness me, you’re a regular Sherlock Holmes."

"Trixie’s just trying to help Di and the production," Honey said hurriedly. "It could help to know how the culprits got hold of your scissors. You know, it might help to show how they got in or when or what they were thinking, or--or something," her voice trailed off.

"Oh," Mrs. Travers said again. Her smile was back in place and her voice was sugary again, but she didn't volunteer any more information.

"Did you leave your sewing kit or scissors here after the last rehearsal?" Trixie asked.

"I might have. I don’t really recall. I’m so absent-minded, I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on," she laughed and looked over at Mrs. Catania. Mrs. Catania was reviewing a schedule with Nancy and ignored Mrs. Travers.

"Didn’t Mr. Reed ask you about them?" Trixie knew she was on thin ice, but she wanted to see if she could find out just a bit more.

Mrs. Travers smile disappeared again. "I answered all of Mr. Reed’s questions, that’s all I need to say, young lady," she glared at Trixie, picked up her scissors, and cut the thread she was sewing with a vigorous thwack.

Nancy finished conferring with Mrs. Catania then and straightened the papers on her clipboard with a flourish. "Trixie, let’s head on backstage," she said. "We’ll be starting soon."

Trixie walked with Nancy onto the backstage. While Nancy flipped on the stage lights Trixie turned off the ghostlight and moved it to the wings.

"You’re a pro already," Nancy smiled.

"Nancy, do you know what’s happening with Mr. Reed’s investigation? Is Del really under suspicion?" Trixie’s voice echoed in the empty theater, and she tried to keep it low.

"I don’t know exactly, but I’m afraid so," Nancy pushed her glasses up on her nose. "I know that Del is feeling badly about what all has happened. After all, his friends took props home without permission. And, they were the last ones on the scene of the vandalism," Nancy paused and a pained expression came over her face. "That doesn’t make him look good. Mr. Reed has been talking to his parents and to Tony and Jeff and their parents. I know Del feels he’s under a cloud."

"You’ve known him for a few years," Trixie held thumbtacks for Nancy as she posted production schedules and messages to various cast members on the bulletin board that was mounted on the backstage wall. "Does this seem like something he would do?"

"Not at all," Nancy said vehemently. "That’s what makes this so frustrating."

"Has Mr. Reed questioned anyone else?" Trixie asked.

"I don’t think so. Besides Tony and Jeff, who would he question?" Nancy replied.

Trixie hesitated. "Di and I saw Alison Travers coming from the direction of the theater before third period. And, you know, Mrs. Travers’s scissors were found on the scene."

Nancy frowned. "No one knows anything bad about Alison. She’s always cooperative and sweet-tempered in practice and Mrs. Travers is going all out for the musical. Why, she’s the biggest supporter we’ve got among the parents! She puts in tons of time to help out. Besides, why would she tear up the costumes she’d just finished?"

Trixie was silent. She’d asked herself that very question.

"But Tony and Jeff were always late or horsing around. It’s got to be somebody like that," Nancy continued.

"That puts Del in an awkward place," Trixie observed. "Do you think he’s protecting his friends?"

"I just don’t know what to think. He’s been my friend and – and --" Nancy turned and stopped suddenly.

Trixie turned also. Mrs. Travers was standing at the threshold between the prop room and backstage, arms akimbo, glaring at the two girls.

After an awkward pause Nancy found her voice. "Do you need something, Mrs. T?" she asked pleasantly.

Mrs. Travers held her head up, shook it slightly then turned back to the prop room.

Nancy and Trixie stared at the empty doorway and then looked at each other, speechless. Nancy finally shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh well. We weren’t really saying anything so bad. Why don’t you get your prop table ready, Trixie? I need to review my cues one more time," she said and moved off to check her clipboard.

"Now Mrs. T knows for sure that I’m asking questions," Trixie thought. She supposed it had to come out sooner or later. "I just hope it doesn’t complicate things for Di."

As the rest of the crew arrived for the "dry tech," that is, a technical rehearsal without actors present, Trixie switched her focus to her backstage duties. Nancy and Del gave a crash course for the newcomers in the technical aspects of putting on a play. It took quite a bit of coordination to remove the scenery for one scene while moving in the scenery for the next without bumping into each other or knocking each other over.

When they heard the word, "Clear!" Del explained, they should quickly look around and move out of the way – because that was the signal that someone was moving heavy or delicate equipment or scenery.

"If you hear someone holler, ‘heads up!’ then you should do exactly that and, again, get ready to quickly get out of the way," Del continued. "That means there is something overhead that may be falling or about to fall. We do our best to make everything secure, but accidents do happen," Del paused, turned red and looked down at the floor.

Seeing his embarrassment Nancy jumped in. "There are quite a few safety hazards," she cautioned the crew. She crossed over to the wings and held up the bottom of the curtain "Even something as seemingly lightweight as this curtain can cause injury. If you look closely, steel weights have been sewed into the hem of this curtain to make sure it hangs evenly. But, if the curtain were to accidentally land on someone’s head, it could cause a serious injury."

Again and again the crew rehearsed moving "flats" onstage, and coordinating this with raising and lowering backcloths, curtain raisings, and lighting changes. There were also props to be gotten to the right spot. Trixie found that she was quickly absorbed in learning her responsibilities as a crewmember. After a couple of hours everyone was tired and Nancy called a short break. A delicious aroma was filling the air and when Trixie looked over to the right hand wings, she saw that Honey and Mrs. Travers were setting up a buffet.

"We’ve ordered in Chinese from Dang Luck! We’ll have a quick meal and then get in a little more rehearsal," Nancy announced.

She led the way to the wings where the buffet was waiting. Big bowls filled with rice, cashew chicken, beef broccoli, and egg rolls steamed invitingly. The crew members eagerly descended on the food, filling their plates to overflowing. Trixie took a seat on one of the rostra. She was starving and could hardly keep herself from gobbling her food down. She noticed that Del was still silent more often than not.

Nancy had sat down beside Trixie and had apparently also noticed Del’s silence. "Hey, Del," she said brightly as the crew began to finish the meal. "Why don’t we introduce our new crew members to ‘Backstage Fortune Cookies’?"

Del’s face brightened a bit. "Okay. It’s simple. You read your fortune and you add the word, ‘backstage’ to whatever it says." He tossed his paper plate in the trash can at the side of the stage and helped himself to a fortune cookie. Cracking it open he read, "Someone you’ve doubted deserves your support…backstage."

The crew murmured appreciatively and then everyone hurried over to get a fortune cookie and read the fortune inside.

"Now is the time to enjoy trying something new…backstage," Nancy read and made a face. "No! Nothing more new! I’ve got my hands full as it is!"

A quiet, freckle-faced boy with braces was next. "The love light is glowing for you tonight…backstage," he read and turned a deep shade of red.

"That’s the ghostlight, Ryan, not the love light!" Del exclaimed.

"Oh, I’ll bet Ryan’s middle name is Romeo," Mrs. Travers spoke up. The boy blushed even more deeply and quickly popped the fortune cookie in his mouth.

Mrs. Travers opened her fortune expectantly. "Let’s see, mine says, ‘You will soon attract the notice of others…backstage.’ Oh!" she giggled. "Goodness, me! I don’t want to be noticed! I don’t live for applause, like some people. I’m just trying to do whatever I can. For the good of the production."

The crewmembers smiled politely, but no one said anything. "Who does she think lives for applause?" Trixie was wondering when Mrs. Travers interrupted her thoughts.

"Read yours, little Miss Detective," she said. Her tone held a slight taunt.

Obediently, Trixie opened her fortune. "Be patient. The answer will be revealed…backstage," she read. "Oh, woe, patience is one virtue I’m definitely short of."

"And what do you need an answer to?" Mrs. Travers asked.

"Why, to all the sabotage that’s been going on against Di," Trixie exclaimed. It seemed to her that the stage suddenly grew quiet.

"Mr. Reed is looking into this. That’s something you should let the adults handle," Mrs. Travers cocked her head in Trixie’s direction.

"I’m not interfering, but I’m not going to stand by and let this troublemaker get away with it," Trixie said, more hotly than she had intended. Del was frowning again. He turned away and moved to inspect the footlights on the far side of the stage.

"Trouble starts when people don’t mind their own business," Mrs. Travers said, standing up. "You should keep that in mind." With that, Mrs. Travers whirled around, her skirt flaring, and headed back to the prop room.

Chapter 7: Another Witness

For a moment after Mrs. Travers’ outburst, the crew sat silently. Then Nancy took a deep breath and briskly directed everyone to return to practice. The crew took up their positions again and put in another full hour of practice. Soon, the awkward moment with Mrs. Travers seemed to be forgotten.

"Nancy’s right, I hardly have time to breathe, much less solve a mystery," Trixie thought as she and two other crewmembers prepared to revolve a large piece of scenery called a ‘truck,’ which was basically a mobile rostrum or platform. On one side of the truck was the outside of a train car. By revolving the truck, the inside of the train car was presented to the audience. Having accomplished that chore, Trixie rushed to get the right props onstage. The list for this scene included a laundry line, laundry, clothespins, and a primer reading book.

She enjoyed the challenge of the backstage work and the camaraderie of the crew, but it nagged at her that she needed to find a way to investigate the troublemaking as well. Just as practice was adjourning, Trixie saw an opportunity to speak with Del.

"I need someone to help me while I check these battens," Del said.

Trixie volunteered, not knowing what battens were or what she was volunteering for. Del didn’t look very happy at the sight of Trixie, but he led her and another student to a spot near center stage. Battens turned out to be a set of floodlights and Del simply needed Trixie and the other student to hold the ladder steady while he climbed up to make sure the lights were secure.

The other crewmember left as Del came down the ladder but Trixie stayed behind. She wasn’t sure how to start, but she wanted to find out what else Del might know. She helped him move the ladder over to the side of the stage. He avoided Trixie’s eyes and seemed bent on not noticing she was there. One of the crew called out to tell him that a nail was loose on a piece of scenery.

"I’ll see to it in just a sec. I left my persuader on that frammus over here!" Del replied.

"You left your what on what?" Trixie asked.

Del picked up a hammer from atop one of the rostra and held it up for Trixie to see. She just looked at him. He relented then and explained. "A frammus is any mechanical thing that you don’t know the name of or can't think of the name of at the moment. The hammer is a persuader."

Del walked over to the railing of the scenic porch and hammered one of the nails back in place with a few emphatic knocks. "I’m ‘persuading’ this nail to stay put."

"I wouldn’t argue with you," Trixie said and was rewarded with the first smile she’d seen from Del. Emboldened, she went on. "Del, I know this is touchy, but I was with Mrs. Catania yesterday when the damage to the costumes was discovered," she continued.

Immediately the relaxed expression vanished from Del’s face. Nervously he swept his hair back from his forehead.

"I joined the production because Di asked me to. I don’t think the destruction was just random mischief. I think Di has been the target," Trixie said.

'"Well, I wouldn’t know about that," Del said. He put his hands on his hips, tried to look at Trixie, and then quickly reverted to staring at the floor.

"I’m just trying to help Di and the production, too. To stop this trouble. I noticed that Mrs. Travers’ scissors were left on some material and placed on a pile in Mrs. Catania’s office. You couldn’t miss them," Trixie said. "Did Mr. Reed mention that or did you see that when you were there?"

"I didn’t see anything," Del said. "Not until Mrs. Catania called me and Jeff and Tony into her office. Mr. Reed is asking all the questions of my friends and me. And we don’t know anything," his tone had turned sullen again.

"I think Nancy and Mrs. Catania believe you," Trixie said.

"Yes, but it’s hard to clear my name," Del said. "Because I let Tony and Jeff in, Mr. Reed is convinced that we did it, they did it, or something. I’ve worked for two years on these plays and now all of a sudden, I’m a suspect!" In frustration Del hit the hammer – the persuader, Trixie recalled – on some scenic railing.

"What time did you let Tony and Jeff in?" Trixie asked.

"Between home room and first period. I hooked up with them at our lockers and we went to the prop room. I swear we weren’t there for an entire minute," Del exclaimed and his voice took on more feeling. "I let them in. I didn’t go in myself, I was checking over my English composition for punctuation errors."

"I know about last minute studying," Trixie said ruefully. "Did you see anyone else coming in or out of the prop room?"

"No." Del replied firmly.

"What about someone who was in that general area who could vouch for you – who might have seen you?"

Del shook his head. "There may have been, but I don’t recall."

"Wait a minute," Trixie said. "Doesn’t Mr. Barlow, the janitor, regularly stop in the cafeteria for a cup of coffee in the morning? I’ve seen him sitting there before. Did you see him? Speak to him?"

"No-o-o," Del said slowly. He stared hard at the porch railing and then looked over at Trixie as if a new possibility was dawning. "But I really wasn't looking or paying close attention. I just let Tony and Jeff in and crammed on my English."

"You know, I’ll bet it would pay to talk to Mr. Barlow and see if he happened to notice you yesterday. You may not have seen him, but he may well have seen you. He may be able to vouch for the fact that you let the boys in and stayed outside the whole time. And, that none of you were there very long," Trixie said.

Del raised his eyebrows. "I hadn’t thought of that," he said. "You could be right. I don’t think Mr. Reed has talked to Mr. Barlow about it. I think he’s just concentrated on me, Tony and Jeff, our friends and our parents. I’m going to hunt out Mr. Barlow the first thing tomorrow morning, Trixie," Del said. He sounded more energetic and hopeful than at any time since Trixie had known him.

"I’ll go with you if you like," Trixie said. "I’m used to being nosy," she laughed.

Del smiled and agreed to meet her outside the cafeteria before Home Room the next day. If Mr. Barlow kept to his usual schedule, they’d be able to question him.

Trixie headed back to the prop room to find Honey. Mrs. Travers was putting away material and giving instructions to Honey. Trixie tried not to be too obvious, but she noticed that Mrs. Travers methodically put away material and patterns, and then carefully put her scissors into what looked like a special pocket in her sewing kit. She said good night and took both the kit and her handbag with her when she left.

"That looked like a routine when she was packing up her sewing kit," Trixie remarked to Honey as the girls gathered their belongings to leave. "She doesn’t look the least bit absent-minded to me."

"I don’t think she is either," Honey said as the girls walked outside. "But she does have a one-track mind. All she talks about is how talented her Alison is."

"It’ll be interesting going to that Valentine’s Day party," Trixie said. Then, keeping her voice casual she asked, "Are you doing anything for Valentine’s Day? I mean, for any of the Bob-Whites or any of the guys or…anything?"

"I hadn’t thought much about it," Honey replied.

"In grade school the entire class gave cards to everyone, but no one does that anymore," Trixie said.

Honey nodded. "I think Miss Trask may have gotten cards for me to give to the other BWG’s. Not mushy, God forbid. Just good wishes for fellow Bob-Whites."

Tom Delanoy was waiting in the limo and the girls climbed into the back seat. While Tom and Honey chatted about the day’s events at the Manor House, Trixie stared out the window. She wasn’t going to get Valentine’s cards for her brothers, that was for sure. At 13 she didn’t date. The Bob-Whites’ activities were always as a group. She and Jim sometimes paired off when on group outings, but nothing so definite as "boyfriend-girlfriend."

"I’d feel too weird to get a card for Jim if he doesn’t get one for me," she thought. Trixie longed to ask Honey what was the right thing to do, but felt too embarrassed to ask her best friend what and whether to get said best friend’s brother for Valentine’s Day.

"And just last summer Honey and I were fighting over whose family would adopt Jim," Trixie thought wryly. But she realized, with a start, that she’d discarded the notion of Jim as a brother a long time ago. Friend, boyfriend, maybe, but not brother. "I wonder how he thinks of me," she frowned out at the darkness.

"Don’t you think so, Trixie?" Honey’s voice interrupted Trixie’s reverie.

"Um, what?" Trixie asked.

"That Nancy Norland is managing very well considering all of the distractions," Honey said, looking curiously at her.

"Oh, right," Trixie shifted on the leather seat. "She’s very efficient. Sort of Miss Trask, Junior."

Honey laughed gaily and continued to tell Tom about the preparations for the musical. Trixie returned to her thoughts. Now that she thought of it, she remembered that she had some pictures of Patch, Jim’s cocker spaniel. She’d been taking pictures one afternoon while the Bob-Whites played in the snow on the Manor House grounds. One picture, she recalled, was particularly good, with Patch sitting alertly, one paw in Jim’s hand, his black coat – Patch’s that is -- shining against the white snow.

"I could get a 4X6 print made and an inexpensive frame," she thought. That seemed to be a harmless, friendly gesture. "I’ll have to remember to ask Moms to get me a frame."

When Tom let her out Trixie hurried up the steps to Crabapple Farm.

"Here comes Crabapple Farm’s very own ‘Sure Shot,’" Mart greeted her in the living room, forming make-believe guns with his fists and pointing them at Trixie.

"Sure Shot!" Bobby echoed. "Pow! Pow!"

"What?" Trixie asked, setting her books on the entry table and hanging up her coat.

"We’ve been anticipating and paying homage to Sleepyside’s amateur theatrical production by reviewing a video of the movie version of Annie Get Your Gun," Mart explained. "Have you been laboring behind the scenes, but not taking in the show itself, little sib? Because otherwise you would know that ‘Little Sure Shot’ is the appellation Sleeping Bull, chief of the Sioux, bestows on the heroine, Annie Oakley," Mart watched carefully as Trixie yawned and rubbed her eyes. "I take back the ‘Sure Shot’ moniker. You don’t look like you could hit the broad side of a barn."

"The only sure shot I’m likely to make is from here to my bedroom," Trixie agreed.

"Not so fast. There’s no rest for the weary, Little Sure Not. You have an appointment with a sink full of pots and pans. The eldest and ever helpful Belden sibling, Brian, has been scrubbing them but he, doubtless, will be seeking imminent relief."

As Mart spoke the kitchen door swung open and Brian emerged holding a wet dishrag. "You take over, from here, Trix," he called, holding up the rag. "I set the table and helped Moms with the salad. You can finish the cleanup."

Sighing, Trixie headed toward the kitchen and took the dishrag. Brian followed her and heated some apple cider while Trixie went to work on the pots and pans. As she scoured and Brian waited for the apple cider to heat up, Trixie told him about her day.

"So, Mrs. Travers is not one to leave her scissors lying around and Del is defensive and doesn’t seem to know much," Brian summarized, pouring cider in a mug.

"It didn’t sound like much, does it?" Trixie asked as she stared at a particularly discouraging stain.

"You’ve got to start somewhere. And, you may have uncovered another witness. If Mr. Barlow saw anything, that could be meaningful," Brian blew on his cider and took a sip. "Carry on," he held up his mug in a mock salute and left the kitchen.

At Brian’s encouragement, Trixie brightened. She finished the cleanup as quickly as she could and hurried up to her own studies. She pulled out her book for her book report but realized that she’d been so tired the night before that she didn't recall what she’d read. She began by reviewing the pages, making a few notes. But soon her eyes were heavy again. The next day was one of those days when neither Mart nor Brian could take her turn riding. Trixie was scheduled to ride early with Honey, before school. She bit her lip, looking at the unread pages. "Well, maybe this weekend," she thought. Exhausted and dreading the morning, Trixie turned out the light.

A few minutes later, or so it seemed to her, the alarm went off. It was still dark out. With a groan she shut off the alarm, hauled herself out of bed, dressed, and headed through the gray morning for the Manor House stables. When she arrived, Honey was leading Susie and Starlight out of their stalls.

The girls headed out onto the trails and let the horses have their heads. After they’d trotted for a while, Trixie and Honey slowed the horses to a walk. The crisp air and the coming of sunrise had wakened Trixie and restored her natural cheerfulness.

"I can’t wait to talk to Mr. Barlow. This could be a real breakthrough," she told Honey.

"Jim told me last night that he talked to Alison in Chemistry," Honey replied. "He said she mentioned that she’d had a doctor’s appointment. She said she’d been to see Dr. Ferris about a mild fever she’s had."

Trixie pulled Susie up short. "There’s only one problem with that, Honey," she said. "Dr. Ferris is our family doctor also. And, I guarantee you that he does not have office hours on Monday mornings. That’s his day for making rounds and seeing patients at the Sleepyside Rest Home. If Alison says she had an appointment with Dr. Ferris on Monday morning, well, she’s lying!"

 

Chapter 8: The Evidence Mounts

Honey’s eyes widened. "Oh, Trixie, do you think there could be some misunderstanding? Maybe he’s changed his office hours or worked Alison in or her mother took her to the Rest Home or she saw his nurse instead – or – or-- "Honey searched desperately for an alternative.

"Or, Alison is lying about the doctor’s appointment," Trixie said flatly. "There’s almost no doubt about that, but we can probably call his office and check for sure."

"I almost don’t want to know," Honey wailed.

"We’ve got to follow the evidence wherever it leads, Honey. If we’re going to help Di," Trixie began.

"I want to help Di, but I don’t want to hurt Alison," Honey said. "Oh, why can't it just be that silly old theater ghost?!"

"Honey Wheeler, you know it’s not a ghost," Trixie said sharply.

Honey grimaced and nodded. The girls fell silent as they finished the horses’ morning exercise and hurriedly groomed them. Then Trixie ran home to change clothes for school.

Riding the school bus into town, the Bob-Whites held an impromptu club meeting. Di’s voice was returning and she looked rested and relaxed. The Bob-Whites sorted out riding assignments and Mart and Brian volunteered to take posters advertising the musical around to city businesses and ask them to display them in their windows.

"Is there any other business?" Jim asked.

Trixie bit her lip and stayed silent. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Honey looking at her, but Trixie had decided to keep her thoughts about Alison to herself…meanwhile. "Until I have more proof or at least a chance to lay out the case completely."

She hurried from the bus to meet Del just inside the school door. The two headed toward the cafeteria. Sure enough, Mr. Barlow was seated at one of the long tables, his mop and bucket beside him, slowly sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup. He watched the students hurrying by.

"Mr. Barlow! You’re here!" Trixie cried, louder than she meant to.

The man looked up surprised and then frowned. "I’m here every morning, Trixie Belden. So, what?"

"I’m sorry, it’s just that we need to ask you about Monday morning," Trixie said. "Were you here drinking coffee on Monday morning about this time?" she asked.

"Like I said, I’m here every morning and if I’m here, I’m drinking coffee…Officer Belden," Mr. Barlow responded with a twinkle in his eye.

Trixie blushed and shuffled her feet, but she pushed on. "Did you see anyone go into the prop room there across the hall?" she asked.

Mr. Barlow thought back. "That was morning before last," he reflected. "Yes, I saw this boy here open the door and a couple of young guys that were with him went in."

"I stayed outside, Mr. Barlow, while they went in," Del said. "Do you recall that?"

"Yes," Mr. Barlow nodded readily. "You were outside with your back to me, inspecting some papers you held up against the wall. Wasn’t more than a minute, if that, then those boys came out, said something to you, and you locked up and the three of you tore off. I thought you musta seen a ghost in there," he laughed.

Del bit his lip and shook his head.

"Did you see anyone else, besides Del and his friends, either before or after?" Trixie pressed.

Mr. Barlow looked off in the distance. "Well, now, that lady that’s working with the musical, helping with the costumes. She and her daughter came in."

Trixie took a quick breath. "When was that, Mr. Barlow?"

"It was before the first bell for Home Room, before you boys came. The lady was carrying a bunch of costumes, is how I happen to recollect it. They went inside for a few minutes. A few minutes later, I saw the lady come out."

"Just the lady? What about the girl, did she come out?" Trixie asked.

"Well, I didn't see the girl again. Was she in there when you opened up the room?" he asked Del.

Del looked concerned and shook his head.

"How long did you sit here drinking coffee?" Trixie asked.

"I’ve got plenty of things to do, if that’s what you’re suggesting," Mr. Barlow started to sound a bit offended.

Trixie shook her head vigorously.

Mr. Barlow grunted and continued. "Well, it wasn’t that long. A few minutes maybe after the wardrobe lady came out, the bell rang for home room and I went on to the teacher’s lounge and replaced some light bulbs, you know, went on with the day."

"Mr. Barlow, have you told Mr. Reed this?" Trixie asked.

"Why, of course not," he snorted. "Why would I?"

"Mr. Reed is looking into some things related to the musical that may have happened here Monday morning," Trixie said vaguely, not sure if she should tell the janitor about the vandalism. "So, you saw the wardrobe mistress go in and come out and you saw the boys go in and come out, but the girl…

"I never did see that girl come out," Mr. Barlow mused. "But, maybe I wasn’t looking, or maybe she came out later," he finished with a shrug.

Just then the first bell rang for Home Room. Del tapped Trixie’s shoulder. "We’d better get to class," he said urgently.

"We’ll talk to you later, Mr. Barlow. Thanks!" Trixie said and hurried off with Del. They walked as quickly as they could. Breathlessly, Trixie said, "This is great! Mr. Barlow can vouch for you!"

To her surprise, Del didn’t look so happy. "I don’t know, Trixie. He knows I didn’t go inside the room. That part’s good. But, I don’t know what it will sound like if he tells Mr. Reed that the three of us looked scared."

"Why shouldn’t you look scared? Those boys had borrowed those pistols without permission. You knew Mrs. Catania would be reading you the riot act."

Del hesitated. "Mr. Reed may think they did something and I’m covering for them. As a matter of fact, that’s about what he thinks right now."

"But Alison was seen going in there and not coming out! If nothing else, it’s someone besides the three of you. At least, it’s a reason to talk to Alison and her mother," Trixie replied.

Del bit his lip. "I - I, well, I want my name cleared, but I don’t want to get Alison in trouble. I just don’t know where this is going."

Trixie sighed. Everyone seemed to be protecting Alison. "Del, Mr. Reed should know what Mr. Barlow saw. It may or may not prove anything but he should know about it," she insisted.

Del winced and nodded slightly.

"All Alison has to do is explain where she was and what she was doing," Trixie pointed out. She paused. "Did you see anything or hear anything when you were standing there?"

Del looked down, shook his head. His hair had fallen in his face and Trixie couldn’t see his expression. The crowds had thinned out as students headed to class and Trixie had no chance to ask anymore. She said good-by to Del and ducked quickly into her Home Room just as the teacher was calling her name. Trixie called out, "Here,'" grabbed a seat and began to catch her breath.

She thought about what they’d learned from Mr. Barlow. Alison and her mother had been seen delivering the costumes safely on Monday morning. Alison had been seen entering but not leaving the prop room that morning. Del said the boys had not seen Alison in the prop room and, if they’d seen the torn costumes, hadn't mentioned them to him. But Mr. Barlow had seen the boys entering and leaving the prop room and said they had looked scared when they left. What would scare them? Did they see the torn costumes and expect to be blamed for that?

If Alison was still in the prop room when Jeff and Tony entered, she must have been hiding. Trixie turned that thought over in her mind. "Maybe she heard them coming and snuck back stage."

Del’s attitude worried Trixie. Did he not want the troublemaker – or troublemakers -- to be found? She had to admit, he had a point that Mr. Barlow’s observations didn't necessarily absolve him or his friends. If Tony and Jeff had worked fast, they could have done the damage. "And the silver pistols were under that crumpled newspaper," she recalled.

Mr. Barlow’s evidence was tantalizing, but when Trixie met up with Di and Honey for Study Hall later that morning, she found she was reluctant to bring the subject up. It would only upset Honey to know that there was another piece of information pointing toward Alison, even if it wasn’t conclusive.

And Di was in such good spirits that Trixie hated to bring up any reminders of the mischief that had been directed at her. The read-through the previous night had gone very smoothly, Di reported.

"Two whole trouble-free days!" she said exultantly. "I can really focus on my character. I’m adding one of your mannerisms, Trixie, from your little scene the other day: dusting my hands on my hips and swinging a leg over a chair."

Trixie nodded and tried to smile casually.

"So, did you and Del talk to Mr. Barlow?" Honey asked.

Trixie hesitated. "Yes, we did."

"Well?! Was he helpful?"

"He wasn’t completely definite about some things," Trixie said vaguely. "He did notice that Del didn’t go inside the prop room and the other boys weren't in there very long. Del and I are going to tell Mrs. Catania later so she can make sure Mr. Barlow interviews him further." Trixie wanted to move the conversation away from any more details of what she and Del had found out. Luckily, Honey seemed to accept Trixie’s sketchy account without question.

When lunch came, Trixie made an excuse to Honey and Di that she needed to see a teacher about an assignment. She stayed behind while they left for the cafeteria. When Di and Honey were out of sight, Trixie went to the school pay phone booth. Once inside she stared at the receiver for a long moment. Then she touched the numbers on the dial pad for Dr. Ferris’ office. When her call was answered, she told the receptionist who she was and explained that her mother wanted her to make an appointment for the next Monday.

"I’m sorry, Dr. Ferris doesn’t keep office hours on Monday," the receptionist told her in a cool, business-like tone.

"Oh," Trixie closed her eyes for a moment. "Can you tell me, is this an exception or was he in the office last Monday?"

There was a pause on the other end. Then, the receptionist continued. "No-o, the doctor was not here last Monday. As I said, he doesn’t keep office hours on Monday. Would you like to schedule for this Tuesday?"

"I’ll have to double check with my Moms," Trixie said quickly and hung up. She stood for a moment. Instead of being elated to have uncovered evidence that could help solve the mystery, she was dismayed. Evidence was mounting against Alison and possibly her mother. But exposing it wasn’t going to make Trixie any friends.

Chapter 9: Beware!

She opened the phone booth door and joined the other students in the hall. "I’ll just have to keep following the evidence, see where it leads, and hope for the best," she thought. She owed it to Di and she wanted to finish the job she’d taken on.

At the end of the school day Del and Trixie met outside Mrs. Catania’s office. Del knocked on the door and at Mrs. Catania’s harried, "It’s open!" the two entered.

Del was running one hand through his hair and pulling on his belt loops with the other. "Um, can we have a minute to talk with you, Mrs. Catania?" he asked nervously.

"Talk!" Mrs. Catania ordered, by way of reply, hardly bothering to glance up from the pile of papers in front of her.

Somewhat disjointedly Del began to tell about the information he and Trixie had obtained from Mr. Barlow, explaining how Mr. Barlow had seen Del and his friends. Mrs. Catania raised her head abruptly. "You don’t say," she murmured a couple of times as Del talked.

"Interesting!" Mrs. Catania exclaimed when Del had finished his recitation. "That shows at least that you didn’t go in the room! I’ll bring this to Mr. Reed’s attention tomorrow so he can follow up with Mr. Barlow himself."

"It was Trixie’s idea to talk to Mr. Barlow," Del said. "I didn’t remember seeing him there, but she remembered that he’s there most mornings."

Mrs. Catania looked appraisingly at Trixie. "That’s good work, young lady. This production badly needs our Technical Director in the clear."

Del left and Trixie moved to follow him, but hesitated at the prop room threshold. She turned back around to look at Mrs. Catania.

"Yes?" Mrs. Catania said expectantly.

"There’s something else," Trixie began. "I’m not sure how to put this."

"Just put it out there," Mrs. Catania replied, dropping a pen into her desk drawer and slamming it shut.

"Mr. Barlow also told us that earlier, before Del and his friends went to the prop room, that he saw both Mrs. Travers and Alison go in the prop room. As you know, they were delivering the new costumes. Mr. Barlow saw both Mrs. Travers and Alison go in the prop room, but he only saw Mrs. Travers come out," Trixie paused.

Mrs. Catania was completely silent, staring straight at her. Trixie gathered her courage and went on. "Later that day at rehearsal, um, I heard Alison tell her mother she would need a written excuse for missing the first two periods on Monday. She told me and another friend that she’d had a doctor’s appointment. But you see, Mr. Barlow saw her at school and well, um, that’s an inconsistency," Trixie said.

Mrs. Catania’s eyes narrowed and she looked back down at the papers on her desk. "I’ll tell Mr. Reed to talk to Mr. Barlow about everyone he saw coming and going that morning," she said, not raising her head. "Thank-you, Trixie."

It was a dismissal. Trixie turned and fled from the office. She’d decided that she did not, at that point, want to be the one to publicly expose Alison’s fabricated doctor’s appointment. "I’ll run it past Honey first," she thought. "And maybe Jim." Trixie didn’t look forward to telling Jim what she’d found out about Alison, but on the other hand, whatever she discussed with Honey would get back to Jim sooner or later – mostly sooner.

"If only Mr. Reed would get off the stick and start asking some questions of his own," she thought grumpily.

Nancy Norland was in the prop room conferring with a crewmember.

"Hey, Trix, can you get the stage lights on?" she called across to Trixie.

"Sure thing," Trixie replied and headed back stage. She crossed the threshold and was about to begin flipping on lights when she thought she heard someone moving in the wings on the far side of the stage. She moved quietly backstage out of the doorway and paused while her eyes became accustomed to the dim light. A female figure was pacing the stage; she gripped her arms together, anxiously rubbing her upper arms.

As Trixie watched, the figure moved to one of the boxes under the prop tables. Her back to Trixie, she rummaged among the things in the boxes. Trixie thought she picked something up, but couldn’t tell for sure. Then the figure moved toward the trap door at back stage right. Trixie held her breath as the person lifted up the trap door. In the additional light from the basement, Trixie could clearly see Alison Travers descending the stairs to the dressing rooms below. She seemed to be holding something close to her chest. Trixie was about to call out when Nancy came up behind her.

"Hey, let’s get this show on the road!"

"Right, sorry," Trixie said, startled. "It’s just that I thought I’d heard someone," she quickly turned back around but the trap door was closing shut.

"I thought you were used to our ghost by now," Nancy teased, as she moved quickly and efficiently to get the stage ready for rehearsal.

Trixie wanted very badly to see what Alison had taken downstairs, but the rest of the cast and crew were arriving and Nancy was asking for her help getting props out and arranged.

Trixie tried to keep an eye out for Alison’s return, but was quickly absorbed in checking her prop list for the scenes they were to rehearse that day. She read the items silently, scanning the prop table to see if each was present: one rope, one red carpet bag, Buffalo Bill handbills, one white baton, one fake cigar, two hand mirrors, clothespins, one primer reading book.

Trixie frowned. The primer reading book was missing, as was one of the mirrors – the one that Annie Oakley was supposed to use to perform a sharp shooting trick. Trixie took a quick breath. Perhaps Alison had been carrying something downstairs after all. Trixie surveyed the prop table one more time and delved into the prop box underneath, but she still couldn’t find the two missing props.

"Has anyone seen Annie Oakley’s stunt mirror or primer reading book?" she called aloud.

But everyone was scurrying around, attention on their own last minute chores. Most acknowledged Trixie’s question with no more than a distracted shrug. She stepped away from the table, looking around. Backstage left, near the prop room, Honey and Mrs. Travers were conducting costume fittings with chorus members. It was getting close to the starting time for the rehearsal and Trixie knew neither Nancy nor Mrs. Catania would be happy if everything wasn’t in place.

"Gleeps!" Trixie thought. She gripped her blonde curls in frustration and turned back to the prop table and stopped short. The primer reading book had reappeared. Trixie looked around quickly. Alison Travers was walking across the stage, having come from the general direction of the prop table. She could have been there a minute ago, but then, a dozen other people had access also, Trixie realized. Del was conferring with Ryan just five steps away. Chorus members were milling around also.

"Still, I’ve got to force this one. I’ve got to see if I can get something out in the open," Trixie thought. She hurried to catch up with Alison.

"Alison!" she said, swinging along beside her, trying to keep her voice friendly. "I’m missing two props for Annie Oakley, I thought you might have seen them."

Alison turned to Trixie, her eyebrows knit in a small frown. "Oh?"

Out of the corner of her eye Trixie saw that Mrs. Travers had paused in pinning up a costume and was looking over at Trixie and Alison.

"I saw you in here earlier. By the prop table," Trixie said bluntly. "The primer reading book is missing and so is the mirror for Annie Oakley’s sharp shooting stunts. I thought maybe you saw them."

Mrs. Travers came rushing up. "I sent Alison in here to drop off some safety pins Nancy had asked me for, for her stage kit. Come along Alison, we need to fit you for your evening gown. Now," Mrs. Travers emphasized when Alison seemed to hesitate.

Mrs. Travers was pulling Alison’s arm, but Alison stood still a moment looking directly at Trixie. "I haven’t seen the mirror," she said. Then she left with her mother.

Trixie stood for a moment watching the two walk off. The look on Alison’s face had surprised Trixie. Alison had looked tense, but not evasive. "It was almost like she was trying to tell me something," Trixie thought.

She mulled that over as she walked back to the prop table. The mirror still hadn’t reappeared, however, and she had to alert somebody. She saw Di at center stage chatting with her co-star, Robert Wells, and quickly crossed over to the two.

"I can’t find your mirror for the shooting scene anywhere," she told Di breathlessly.

A cloud passed over Di’s lovely face but she quickly shrugged it off. "I’ll just get my purse from downstairs and use my own mirror for rehearsal," she said. "It’s no big deal."

"Good idea, but you don’t need to fetch props," Trixie said quickly with a grin. "I’ll find someone who’s got a mirror. Lord knows, I don’t!" Di and Robert laughed as Trixie ran her fingers through her rumpled curls.

As it happened, Nancy had a small cosmetics mirror in her stage kit and she handed it over to Trixie without comment, barely looking up from her discussion of lighting cues with Del.

The rehearsal began with the scene of the shooting match between Annie Oakley and Frank Butler. When it came time for Di to shoot holding a mirror, she pulled out the tiny cosmetics mirror.

"Hold it!" Mrs. Catania called out loudly from her seat out front. "Is that the mirror we’re using? I can't even see it back here! I can't tell what Di’s doing."

Nancy Norland went onstage. "We can’t find the regular mirror, Mrs. Catania. So, Di’s just using this for this one rehearsal."

Mrs. Catania frowned. "People, you are going to have to keep better track of things! I’ve never seen so many props disappear. Whose job were those props? Whose?"

Sheepishly, Trixie joined Nancy onstage. "That’s my job, Mrs. Catania. I looked everywhere, it was here yesterday, I swear, I asked everybody –"

"Enough!" Mrs. Catania cut off Trixie’s apologies. "People, you have to pay attention! You crew members have to check and double check. And, you actors, don’t go walking off and leaving props everywhere. I’ve seen props sitting on ladders, for mercy’s sake! Nancy, you are going to have to come up with a system to get your crew in better shape." Mrs. Catania looked around grumpily for someone else to scold, but realized she had pretty much included everyone in her lecture. She frowned around in general once more and then said, "All right. Let’s pick up from where we were! Someone find that mirror by tomorrow!"

Trixie grimaced and hurried back stage with Nancy. Rehearsal resumed and when she had a chance Trixie whispered her apologies to Nancy.

"Don’t worry about it," Nancy whispered back. "It is my responsibility, ultimately. Besides, you know Mrs. Catania. She blows her stack at least once a night, but she gets over it quickly, too. She won’t even remember this in an hour."

After the shooting scene the cast and crew got a brief break. Trixie took advantage of the break to find Di and apologize for the distraction of not having the correct mirror.

Di, chatting with Robert, was still in a relaxed mood. "You know what, Trixie? It’s not a big deal. I’m learning to roll with the punches and not think every mistake is the end of the world."

"Now all she has to do is get Mrs. Catania to agree with that," Robert put in and he and Di laughed heartily.

Trixie chuckled, not quite as amused as they were, but relieved. Most of all she was impressed and proud that Di was proving so resilient.

Rehearsal resumed with a scene in the railroad car. Annie Oakley was being taught to read by her younger brother, played by the ten year old son of Sleepyside High’s Chorus Director. Together the youngster and Di opened the book. Both stopped, momentarily, and stared.

The youngster looked up at Di uncertainly, then went ahead with his lines. The child stopped speaking and there was a pause. Di’s smile seemed frozen on her face. Finally, she began to stutter unintelligibly.

"Prompt, give her the line," Mrs. Catania called out impatiently.

Nancy read the line and Di repeated it.

No sooner had Di gotten the line out than Mrs. Catania interrupted. "Diana, there’s no reason to miss that line," she complained. "All you have to do is repeat what your brother says. He’s teaching you to read! If you’re at a loss, just repeat the words that he says! Get your head in the game! Okay, start again!"

Di took a deep breath and repeated her line. She stumbled a few more times, but recovered without needing another prompt. By the time Robert joined her on stage for their duet, "They Say It’s Wonderful," she seemed to have regained her concentration. She sang sweetly, wistfully, every note true:

 

The thing that’s known as romance is wonderful, wonderful

In every way, so they say.

Even Mrs. Catania seemed mollified. "Your duet is okay, you two," she said. "But I think we want to re-think the lighting for this scene. Del, see me about this later," she called. "Okay, everyone, let’s call it a night."

The cast and crew started putting things away as quickly as they could. Hurrying with the rest, Trixie began to put the smaller props in a box, double checking that each one was present and accounted for. She looked up once to see Di standing stock still amid the bustle. She saw Trixie looking at her and walked slowly over, carrying the primer reading book that had been used in the scene.

Trixie looked up at her questioningly. Without a word, Di opened the book to the page it had been opened to during the scene and handed it to Trixie. Looking down Trixie saw that what looked like the back of a fortune cookie message had been taped onto the center of the page. On it a message was written in big, block letters:

"Beware. There’s STILL another ‘Sure Shot’ …backstage."

 

Chapter 10: By Ghostlight

Trixie frowned down at the message. "Wha-at?"

"I don’t know," Di shook her head.

Trixie looked again at the cryptic message. "Is it a threat? Is it a warning?"

"I don’t know," Di repeated. "They’re just trying to keep me off balance." She clinched her fists. "It’s not going to work!"

"You recovered really well," Trixie said truthfully. She put an arm around Di and hugged her. "You’ve been a real trouper!!"

"Thanks, Trix. I’m almost getting used to it." Di shook her head, bemused. "You figure out what to do with this book, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m all in," she said and left to collect her coat and books.

Trixie grimaced. Di was being so brave. "And I haven’t solved this," she reminded herself. "I have got to do something." She was getting closer, she was turning up evidence, but so much remained unclear and she had no real proof against anyone. And someone was still out there, trying to hurt Di and the show.

Trixie looked at the primer book. Should she tell Nancy? Mrs. Catania? As Trixie considered this, a voice boomed at her from the audience. "Trixie, hold it right there!"

"Huh?" Trixie looked out into the theater.

"We’re working on this lighting. Just stand right there a minute," Mrs. Catania was saying. "Okay, Del, have you got the follow spot on?"

From the wings where he controlled the lighting, Del answered that he did.

"Oh, woe, I need to investigate downstairs not stand here," Trixie thought, but she did as requested.

"Okay, now, Trixie, take a few steps up on that staircase," Mrs. Catania called. "And Del, bump up the light intensity a couple of notches."

Trixie obeyed and stood on the staircase as Del made adjustments in the lighting. Mrs. Catania asked Del to show her a few different levels of intensity and color. Trixie switched her weight from one leg to the other as Del fiddled and Mrs. Catania changed her mind and then changed it back.

Finally, she pronounced herself satisfied. "Okay, Diana is going to take a couple of steps up those stairs during her solo, I Got the Sun in the Morning and the Moon at Night. When she goes up those steps I want the lighting bumped up to the level it’s at now."

Nancy and Del scribbled down notes as Mrs. Catania talked.

"You can go on now, Trixie," Mrs. Catania called. "Just help Ryan replace that staircase back against the wall."

"And take this broom with you," Nancy smiled and thrust a broom in her face.

Trixie nodded and accepted the broom. Investigations were going to have to wait. She and Ryan moved the staircase against the backstage wall, near the trap door over the dressing rooms. Then they divided up the stage and Trixie swept one-half while Ryan swept the other. It was a safety rule that the stage floor had to be completely clear of tools and props when they left each evening – no tools, no props, nothing anyone could trip over.

"I might as well be at home," Trixie thought wryly. "Before I can solve a mystery, I have to finish my chores."

For the mean time, she stashed the primer reading book with her own schoolbooks, instead of with the box of props. She wanted a chance to look over the message one more time before handing it over to Nancy or Mrs. Catania. Tony and Jeff had gotten into trouble for taking home props, but a book was nowhere nearly as expensive or hard to replace as blank silver pistols, she told herself. "No one will care," she thought.

Working as quickly as she could, Trixie kept thinking about all of the odd events of today’s practice: the missing book and mirror, the reappearing book and its cryptic warning. And Alison. Alison pacing the stage and making stealthy trips to the dressing room. Alison who Jim said seemed frightened much of the time. "He’s right," Trixie thought. Alison was clearly upset about something.

Trixie looked around for Alison and saw her helping her mother put away costumes. She wanted to talk more with her but she doubted she’d get anywhere with Mrs. Travers there.

"I’m going to have to find a way make at least one quick trip to the dressing rooms downstairs," Trixie thought as she dumped the contents of her dustpan into the trashcan at the rear of the stage. She thought it would be best to wait until most of the cast and crew were gone so she could look around without too many questions, but that made timing tricky, as then Honey would be ready to leave as well.

The last of the cast and crew had drifted out when Mrs. Catania stuck her head out of the prop room.

"Nancy, can you lock up?" she called. "I need to get out a bit early this evening."

"Sure," Nancy replied.

"There’s security in the halls and there’s still a basketball game going on in the gym, so you girls aren’t alone in the building," Mrs. Catania smiled. "Oh, make sure you take those music scores to the downstairs dressing rooms for the chorus."

"I’ll help," Trixie said quickly and went into the prop room to grab a stack of music.

Honey was there, folding some material into her shopping bag. Mrs. Catania was exiting out the other door of the prop room to the main hallway.

"You all alone here?" Trixie asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Travers left a little while ago," Honey said.

Nancy came in then and grabbed another stack of music and the three girls headed toward the downstairs dressing room. Honey help up the trap door then followed Trixie and Nancy downstairs.

Nancy and Trixie dropped the music scores on a table beside the staircase. The dressing room area was basically a big, square basement. Along one wall ran a long dressing table. Above it hung four big, oval mirrors, each surrounded by lights. On the opposite wall were racks for costumes. The other sides of the room had tiny curtained-off cubicles, where the chorus and supporting cast could change. Starring roles with frequent costume changes, such as Annie, Frank Butler, Frank’s assistant, and Buffalo Bill, would use special temporary cubicles set up in the prop room or, for especially quick changes, even curtained areas in the wings.

"Wow! Those lights are just like Broadway!" Honey exclaimed and went over for a closer look at the mirrors.

"Yes, and here’s the greasepaint," Nancy said, showing Honey the foundation and other make-up essentials the cast used.

Seeing that Nancy and Honey were becoming absorbed in the make-up, Trixie seized the moment to investigate the cubicles. Moving quickly, she pulled back the curtains and looked around the cubicles. She went through three – all completely empty, except for boxes of tissue.

Trixie swept aside another curtain when she heard footsteps overhead. She looked up at the ceiling, waiting. No more footsteps but then she thought she heard a creak or a scrape. She strained her ears but she could hardly hear over Nancy and Honey’s laughter.

There were no more sounds. Trixie looked down then and spotted something on the floor: a magic marker. She bent to pick it up and made a slight mark on her palm – it was the same black color as the message in the book had been. Trixie leaned against the cubicle wall, considering the black marker. Suppose Alison had been going downstairs in order to write a message in the primer book and, when she had completed that, brought it back to the prop table.

"But even if that’s what happened, how can I tie a magic market to anyone in particular?" Trixie wondered. And what about the mirror that was still missing?

Behind her the curtain of the cubicle suddenly parted and Trixie jumped.

"Whatcha doing?" It was Nancy.

"Oh, it’s you," Trixie said, relieved. "I just hoped I might find that blasted mirror."

Nancy shrugged. "It’ll turn up or if it doesn’t we can buy a new one over the weekend. Let’s go, I’ve got homework!"

Trixie stuck the magic marker in her pocket and followed Honey and Di up the stairs. "Are the cubicle areas assigned to individuals?" she asked Nancy.

"Not formally," Nancy replied. "It’s more first come, first served. And, we have to share as there’s not enough for everyone to have their own. Chorus members only have two costume changes."

"So the magic marker could belong to anyone or have been left by anyone," Trixie thought glumly.

She looked around when the girls climbed back onstage, but the theater seemed empty.

"Is Mr. Barlow or any of the janitors still around?" she asked.

"I’m not sure. Could be. You heard Mrs. Catania say there’s some kind of night security," Nancy replied as she moved the ghostlight to center stage. "If you two can just stay one more minute, I could use a little help getting these posters put up in the Main Hallway."

Trixie and Honey agreed. Nancy flipped out the stage lights and the girls made their way by ghostlight to the theater entrance.

"I have got to look around some more," Trixie thought desperately. She lagged a few steps behind Honey and Nancy and slipped her history book and the primer reading book onto one of the audience seats.

When the girls reached the entry hall they could hear the distant cheers from the crowd attending the basketball game. Trixie took a breath and prepared to put on her own little drama. "Oops, Nancy, I’m sorry. I left my history book back stage and I’ve just got to have it. I’ve got a test!" she pleaded.

Reluctantly, Nancy pulled the theater door back open, letting Trixie back in. "Okay, but hurry! Honey can help me get these posters up and we’ll meet you back here in just a few minutes," she said.

The theater door closed behind Trixie with a loud, echoing bang. "I’ll just look around a little more backstage and in the prop room. Maybe the mirror is there or I’ll see something," Trixie thought as she started up the dark aisle.

While the theater had been bustling with students and noise only minutes before, now the silence was immense and ominous. With only the ghostlight on, the theater seemed much larger and much, much emptier.

"At least I hope it’s empty," Trixie thought.

The walls seemed to be waiting and watching. Trixie pounded one of the audience seats impatiently. "I have got to help Di," she thought again. Resolutely, she forced herself to walk toward the stage. Aloud she said, "I fear not ghosts, I fear them not!"

As Trixie walked she thought she heard a scrape, possibly a footstep. She stopped, waiting and listening. Something clanked overhead and a great ‘whoosh’ echoed through the theater, as if the ceiling sighed.

Trixie clenched her fists and kept walking. "That’s just the heating turning off," she reminded herself. She eyed the shadows thrown by the ghost light. Did one move? Heart pounding, she stopped again, peering into the darkness. Nothing moved and she heard no sound.

She was running out of time, so somehow Trixie got her legs moving again and climbed the stairs as quietly as she could. She tiptoed across the stage, feeling her way toward the light switches, which would be next to the prop room. One of the side curtains fell in her face and Trixie jumped, startled. She caught her breath and then moved toward the wall. She was nearing the light switches when she heard or felt a rushing movement from downstage. She looked up, trying to see in the dim ghostlight, but the movement was already right beside her. She felt a sharp pain on the side of her head and tumbled to the floor.

To Be Continued

TBH Main