Trixie lay sprawled on the stage. She dimly heard footsteps hurrying away and then the door to the prop room opened, but by the time she raised her head, the door had shut and there was nothing to see but the dim stage.

"They’re getting away," she realized. She thought to quickly pull herself to her feet, but her head hurt and she was groggy. Sitting up turned out to be more challenging than usual.

Trixie was just righting herself, cautiously feeling for a bump on her head when the theater entrance opened and she heard Nancy and Honey calling.

"Hey, Trix, you in here? Let’s go!" Nancy called.

"Tom just drove up," Honey chimed in.

"I’m here," in spite of her efforts, Trixie’s voice sounded shaky.

"Trixie? Are you okay?" Honey’s voice tremored with concern.

"I’ve been hit," Trixie said, her voice growing stronger.

"Hit?!" Nancy dumped her books and keys on a back seat and hurried toward the stage.

"I’ll get Tom," Honey called and headed back outside.

Trixie reached over to one of the rostra and used it to brace herself and pull up to a standing position. Nancy mounted the stage, peering at Trixie through the dim light. She reached Trixie and put her hand on Trixie’s arm.

"What happened?"

"I’d come on stage to look for something. Someone was waiting here, I guess. I heard something, but I couldn’t see anything. Then someone bonked me on the head and ran out through the prop door," Trixie pointed.

Honey and Tom came hurrying through the theater and up onto stage.

"Someone’s attacked Trixie! I’m going to go see if they’re still around," Nancy said.

"Let me come with you," Tom cried, doubling his speed to catch up with Nancy. She quickly flipped on a few stage lights before she and Tom entered the prop room.

Honey stayed with Trixie. "What on earth happened?!" she asked.

"I don’t know!" Trixie managed a weak smile and repeated what she’d told Nancy.

Nancy and Tom returned then. "No one in the hall or walking in the parking lot that I recognized," Nancy declared.

"There are quite a few cars in the parking lot for the basketball game and a few driving away, but no way to tell who it was or if one might be someone who was fleeing the scene," Tom added.

He held out a cup of water to Trixie while Nancy quickly fetched her stage manager’s kit and got two Tylenol for her. Tom put an arm around Trixie’s shoulders and looked at her face closely. "Did you lose consciousness?" he asked.

Trixie shook her head. "No, just stunned."

"Any wooziness? Disorientation?" he pressed. He looked reassured when Trixie shook her head.

"Did you get a look at all? See anything?" Honey asked.

"Not a bit," Trixie said regretfully. "It was dark when I came in and then, after whoever it was hit me on the head, I was too stunned to look."

Given the dramatic turn of events, Trixie felt that she had to be candid with Nancy. Quickly she related how the missing primer book had surfaced, but with a cryptic, possibly threatening message for Di. Since the missing mirror hadn’t surfaced, Trixie explained, she wanted to take the opportunity when the theater was empty to see if it had been stashed somewhere or possibly hidden in the dressing rooms.

"I did see Alison going downstairs before rehearsal and I found the magic marker downstairs that could have been used to write the message. But, of course, I can't make a direct connection. But I just felt that we’ve got to do something to help Di and the production," Trixie ended her recitation.

Tom Delanoy wagged a finger at her. "Getting bonked on the head won’t help," he said. "Let’s see this message."

Tom and Honey supported Trixie on either side as she walked down the stairs from the stage to the audience seats. "I’m okay now, really," she protested, but they insisted on escorting her. Nancy retrieved Trixie’s books and Trixie showed them the primer book and its unsettling message: ‘Beware, There’s Still Another Sure Shot…Backstage.’ Tom whistled sharply.

"This is ugly," he declared. "And, it’s nothing to mess around with. You have to turn this in."

Nancy agreed. "I’m going to put this in Mrs. Catania’s office with a note so she’ll see it first thing in the morning," she said. "And, Trixie, you’ll have to tell Mrs. Catania and Vice-Principal Reed what happened – the first thing tomorrow morning. Oh, murgatroyde!" Nancy sank into a seat in the aisle across from Trixie. "This is just what we need. More trouble!"

Trixie grimaced, agreeing with Nancy on all counts.

In case someone was still lurking, Tom didn’t want any of the girls staying alone so he accompanied Nancy while she left the primer book and note in Mrs. Catania’s office. Then the four went out to the Wheeler’s limo where Trixie and Honey waited while he walked Nancy to her car. Once they were sure Nancy’s car had started and she was driving off, Tom headed the limo out toward Glen Road.

"Well, Miss Belden, I see you’ve found yourself another crook," he said.

"The crook found her," Honey said.

Trixie nodded. "I think someone may have been waiting. While we were downstairs in the dressing rooms, I thought I heard footsteps above. I can't be sure, but if I did, then that person may have been surprised and hidden when we came upstairs. Then when I came back, well, I don’t know, maybe they thought I’d turn on a light and find them. Which I would have."

"Why do you think they were waiting?" Honey asked. "Do you think they were waiting on purpose to attack us?" she shivered.

"I doubt that. I think we surprised them. I think it was someone who waited until they thought everyone was gone in order to do some more vandalism. We surprised them when we came up from downstairs and then I really surprised them when I came back after my books."

"That's a lot of ‘I thinks’ and supposes, but one thing’s for sure: you’re dealing with an angry person, Trixie," Tom said. "You’d better turn this over to the school authorities and leave it there."

Trixie didn’t say anything. She would certainly turn over the evidence she had, but she wasn’t about to just sit and wait to see if someone else did something.

Honey was looking at her sympathetically. "You can’t help Di if you’re out of commission too," she said gently.

Trixie nodded reluctantly. "I know. I’ll be careful," she said.

Thankfully, the other Beldens were all occupied when Trixie got home – Moms giving Bobby a bath, her Dad going over the family bills and budget, her brothers studying. Trixie grabbed a leftover chicken leg and an apple from the fridge for a cold supper and scampered up to her room to avoid awkward questions. Tomorrow was another early morning, however. Moms had a Garden Club meeting and Trixie was to do a few make-ahead cooking chores for the family dinner. With a groan, Trixie set her alarm and rolled into bed, not even looking at her schoolbooks.

When the morning did come Trixie found she was no worse for the wear. Whatever bump she’d sustained had receded and she felt fine, if a bit sleep deprived. "I just wish I could have seen something," she thought as she dressed and headed downstairs.

Not until Trixie was slicing celery did she realize that it was Valentine’s Day. "With all the excitement, I didn’t think to get anybody anything," she thought in disappointment. "Even Jim," Trixie frowned as she continued cleaning and slicing.

"Is something wrong, sweetie? You look concerned," her mother said, scrambling eggs with a whisk.

Trixie did her best to perk up. "No, Moms. I’ve just got a lot to keep up with what with school and the musical and chores."

"You take on too much. You’re so generous," Mrs. Belden said. "Just scrape and slice a few carrots and then sit down and have a real breakfast." The scrambled eggs she poured into the hot skillet made an inviting sizzle.

There weren’t that many problems that couldn’t be eased by a good breakfast and her Moms concern, Trixie decided. She dug into her eggs with gusto. There was nothing she could do now about Valentine’s Day and she’d just have to take the mystery one step at a time, she told herself.

Reinvigorated, Trixie went with her brothers to the bus stop. Honey was there alone, mentioning that Jim had taken the early bus to school, in order to attend a Math Club meeting. On the ride to school, Trixie told her brothers about her efforts to investigate and the pummeling she’d taken.

"I gather you haven’t shared this escapade with our parents," Mart said dryly.

"I don’t want to worry them and it’s not like I am ever going to be backstage alone again," Trixie said.

"Attacking you in the dark and hitting you on the head!" Brian exclaimed. "Who is this nut case?"

"I still don’t know and that’s the worst part of it," Trixie said ruefully. She went on and shared everything she’d learned with the boys and Honey. She included what she’d learned about Alison’s doctor’s appointment and her other suspicions about Alison’s involvement in the missing props and the mysterious message left for Di in the primer reading book.

"What do you know about Alison?" Brian asked Honey.

Honey had looked increasingly troubled during the conversation. "I don’t know her very well. I’ve talked with her a few times. Jim’s in a couple of classes with her and thinks she’s a nice girl, but someone who, well, someone who’s anxious or confused or somehow has got something on her mind. She just seems so sweet! I don’t see how she could be mixed up in something like this."

Brian nodded his head sympathetically. "I can understand that, but there is the matter of the nonexistent doctor’s appointment and the fact that she was apparently seen entering the prop room that morning Di’s costumes were destroyed," he said quietly.

Honey reluctantly nodded her head, looking more miserable by the minute.

"You need some proof that can’t be squirmed out of or explained away," Brian told Trixie.

"Tell me something I don’t know," Trixie thought, but merely nodded.

The Bob-Whites rode quietly the rest of the trip and went their separate ways for classes. Trixie hurried to Mrs. Catania’s office before Home Room to tell the Drama Coach about what she knew about the attack on her the night before. She decided she also should go ahead and tell Mrs. Catania that she’d confirmed with Dr. Ferris’ office that he’d not been in the office the previous Monday, so that Alison could not have had a doctor’s appointment that day, as she’d said.

Mrs. Catania looked very disgruntled. "This is no good, no good at all," she shook her head. "You’re pointing your finger in a very unexpected direction," she looked at Trixie accusingly.

"Mrs. Catania, I’m just telling you what I’ve seen and found out!" Trixie protested.

Mrs. Catania shrugged in acquiescence and nodded. "It’s just not a good situation, any way you look at it." She punched her fist into a pile of papers on her desk. "And it’s jeopardizing our production!"

"Someone should at least question Alison and Mrs. Travers," Trixie said.

Mrs. Catania agreed and said she would speak to Mr. Reed immediately. "I was going to talk to him today anyway because of what Mr. Barlow told you yesterday. Now I’ll make sure he knows right away how serious this has gotten. Go on to your classes now, Trixie. I imagine Mr. Reed will want to speak to you as soon as possible, but he’ll contact you."

Trixie went to her classes, wondering when the next blow would fall. She didn't have long to wait: in second period she received a note requesting that she come immediately to see the vice-principal. Trixie was excused from Algebra and went to Mr. Reed’s office.

Mr. Reed greeted Trixie with a quick nod and motioned her to a chair sitting across from his desk. "Now, then, Trixie, let’s hear about last night," he began.

Trixie told Mr. Reed everything. He listened without comment and his eyes were inscrutable behind the tortoise shell-rimmed glasses as Trixie talked. She found herself stumbling under his unblinking gaze, suddenly aware of every gap in evidence, every assumption and intuitive leap she’d made. She plowed doggedly through her explanation, fingering a paper tissue as she talked. "So, tha-that’s what I know," she finished.

"I see." There was a pause. Mr. Reed tapped his index finger against his mouth and sat quietly in thought. "Why did you go back into the theater?"

"Like I said, I wanted to see whether I could find the missing mirror or some other sign that might, you know, show who has been behind this."

"Why couldn’t you look for the mirror during rehearsal?"

"Well, I did. Everyone did."

"It just seems strange that you would want to go back into that theater by yourself. And, I hate to say it, but I have to be concerned because that’s a clear opportunity for you to do some mischief."

Trixie’s mouth dropped open. "Mischief! I’m the one who got hit!"

"We only have your word for it that you were hit."

Dumbfounded, Trixie protested. "I’m not lying! Nancy, Honey, they can tell you, I was sprawled on the floor."

"Did you go to the Emergency Room last night?"

"Well no, I – "

"Have you been to the school nurse today?"

"Well, no sir, I just had a little headache last night, but Nancy gave me some Tylenol and that helped and now I’m fine today. I didn’t want to worry anyone."

"Hmmm…" Mr. Reed tapped his fingers on his desk. "Now this book, this primer reading book with the message…um, "Beware, there’s a, uh…shooter –"

"’Another sure shot backstage,’" Trixie corrected.

"Uh-huh. I believe Mrs. Catania told me that you are in charge of props?"

"Some of them, yes. I noticed that the book had disappeared at the same time I saw the mirror was missing."

"Who had more access to them than you did?"

"I don’t know if anyone had more, but plenty of people had some access. Look, Mr. Reed, I didn’t take that book or put a message in it. Diana Lynch is my friend, one of my best friends! I’m trying to help her. And there’s been trouble going on long before I joined the crew."

Mr. Reed nodded. "I know about the costumes and I’ve been making inquiries. The troublemakers who did the vandalism to the costumes know we’re onto them," he paused and then got up from his desk, put his hands in his pockets and paced slowly back and forth behind his desk. "You were in the newspapers last summer, I believe."

"We-ell, yes," Trixie said, wondering what newspaper stories had to do with this situation.

Mr. Reed stopped pacing and looked at her appraisingly. "Something about jewel thieves and finding a jewel someplace on the Wheeler property?"

"Yes, sir. A diamond. It was in the gatehouse."

"Cops and robbers! Must have been pretty exciting for a young girl to get all that attention."

"I – I don’t know."

"If you solved another mystery, maybe you would get some more attention, hmm…?"

Trixie didn’t like the way this was going. "I don’t know what you’re implying sir. I’m not after attention, I’m here to help Di."

"And, if one set of troublemakers has already been dealt with, well, scare up a little more trouble and you can solve a mystery, save the show, and be a hero."

"Are you accusing me?!" Trixie could hardly believe her ears. "I’ve had nothing to do with any of this trouble. And, for your information, neither did Del or Tony or Jeff. You’ve been barking up the wrong tree!" Trixie caught herself and bit her lip. She looked down at her lap and saw that her tissue was in shreds.

"Is that so?" Mr. Reed asked dryly. "Trixie, you’ve always been a good student, all the Belden children are. You come from a good family. I don’t like to think of you in connection with something like this. But we really have no evidence to speak of and I have to consider all possibilities and angles. You are making accusations – wild accusations, I may say, against a student who’s never given anyone any trouble and a dedicated parent who has given a lot to the show."

Trixie choked back her exasperation. "Are you at least questioning Mr. Barlow about what he saw? And looking into Alison’s doctor’s appointment?"

Mr. Reed adjusted his glasses and looked down at Trixie as if from a great height. "Mrs. Catania told me about your, oh, findings. I will speak with Mr. Barlow today and I will continue to look into everything connected with the events backstage. I do believe I can do the job," he looked at her pointedly. "Now, Trixie, you can go back to class. I’m sure you understand that under the present circumstances it’s important not to spread any innuendo or gossip. And, no more sneaking backstage unaccompanied! That’s going to be the rule for all students from now on. The prop room and the theater will be strictly locked except for rehearsal time and no one, no one, will have access. Is that understood?"

Dumbly, Trixie nodded.

"All right, that will be all," Mr. Reed held the door open for her to leave.

"Yes, sir," Trixie got the words out and stumbled back to Algebra.

She spent the rest of the class in a daze. Third period, she joined Honey and Di for Study Hall at their usual table in the library.

"What happened?" Honey asked when she had a chance.

"Mr. Reed has a suspect," Trixie said slowly, still feeling shell-shocked.

"Who?"

"Me!"

Chapter 12: Cupid’s Kiss

"You?! A suspect?!" Honey and Di chorused.

"That’s crazy!" Honey continued.

Trixie threw up her hands. "I can’t believe it myself." Because the Lynch chauffeur had driven Di into school that day, she still didn’t know about the attack on Trixie the previous night. Quickly Trixie brought her up to date and then recounted her conversation with Mr. Reed and his insinuations.

"Oh, Trixie that’s just ridiculous," Honey said hotly. "How dare he think you would do something like this?"

Di was just as angry. And also angry with herself. "I’m so sorry I’ve gotten you mixed up with this."

"Oh, don’t blame yourself," Trixie waved her hand dismissively. "You didn’t get me into this. I got my own self into it. And, I still can’t prove who did it."

"You’re come closer than anyone else has," Di said. "But, what are we going to do? We can’t let you take the blame."

"We’ve got to have an emergency meeting of the Bob-Whites at lunch," Honey said. "Surely we can think of something to do."

When lunchtime came Trixie found that for perhaps the first time in her life, she wasn’t hungry. School cafeteria food looked particularly unappetizing. "I feel like I’m already wearing a ball and chain," she joked morosely.

Di and Honey, however, reminded her that she faced a long rehearsal after school, so Trixie settled on some vegetable soup. When the girls joined the boys, they found Brian and Mart filling Jim in on the attack on Trixie.

"I knew you’d find trouble, Calamity Trix," Jim shook his head, smiling. Then he looked closely at Trixie as she sat down across from him. "But, really, are you okay?"

"Sure, just a little bump, it’s nothing. But, we need to have a meeting," she said hastily. "Things are even worse than I thought." Quickly she told the boys about her conversation with Mr. Reed.

Mart whistled. "Of all the lame brain conclusions, that is the lamest!" he declared.

"Easy there, little brother, that’s our vice-principal," Brian said. "Trixie, how exactly does Mr. Reed think this all happened?"

"Apparently his theory is that Tony and Jeff, possibly with Del’s help did the initial troublemaking, and he – Mr. Reed, I mean – put a stop to that, but now maybe yours truly has taken over the vandalism, so I can get credit for solving a mystery."

Brian’s caution evaporated and he looked as disgusted as Mart. "I can't believe Mr. Reed would accuse you of this or would think that getting attention would be a motive for you to make this kind of trouble."

"Of course Trixie didn't do it," Jim said quietly. "But I don’t think Alison did either." He looked at Trixie defiantly. "You don’t know her. I do. She’s not the kind of person to do this sort of mischief. She’s scared."

"Of course she’s scared -- that her sabotage of Di will be found out," Trixie countered.

"You don’t know that," Jim said.

"She has a motive. She had the opportunity. She was seen going into the prop room! She lied about her doctor’s appointment!" Trixie said. "Why doesn’t that add up?"

"The motive," Jim replied emphatically. "Alison is not the kind of girl to make this kind of trouble so she could get a part. I know that. I want to hear Alison’s side."

"I want to hear Alison’s side, too!" Trixie exclaimed. "But I can't even get anyone to ask her a few questions!"

"You’ve been set on Alison from the beginning. I don’t think you’ve been objective," Jim said. "What about Del’s friends? Everyone seems to think they are the kinds of people to do damage."

"They don’t have nearly the motive that Alison does," Trixie argued. "And, I didn’t see them sneaking downstairs to the dressing rooms and then later have props go missing. And I don’t know that they lied about a doctor’s appointment."

"You don’t have to call her a liar," Jim said stubbornly. "That kind of talk does a lot of damage to people’s reputations."

Trixie put her spoon down with a clatter and sat back in her chair. "There was no doctor’s appointment," she said flatly.

The table was silent as green and blue eyes glared at each other. Honey had been watching the escalating argument between Jim and Trixie with growing concern. "It’s just so difficult to see Alison doing something like this," she began hesitantly.

"Well, it’s difficult to see Del helping someone do this," Trixie retorted. "But somebody has been doing some pretty malicious stuff to Di. And, it’s somebody we know."

"Well, we don’t have to jump to conclusions about who that somebody is," Jim said.

"What about the conclusions Mr. Reed is jumping to?" Mart asked incredulously. "Those are some whoppers!" Despite Trixie and Mart’s near incessant teasing and bickering, they were always loyal to each other in a pinch.

Di spoke up. "I don’t know what’s going on, I honestly don’t. I don’t like to suspect Alison or Del. I just really appreciate the support Trixie and Honey have given me. Please, there’s enough accusing going on without us accusing each other."

Brian nodded. "Di’s right. Let’s all take a deep breath. We’re supposed to be here to support each other. And our goal here is to help Di, remember? We have to see that through. Jim, Trixie may be a bit headlong but she isn’t trying to hurt anyone, I’m sure of that. Now more than ever, we have to pull together and get to the bottom of this. There’s two things at stake: one, we can’t let Trixie be accused unjustly and two, we can’t leave Di unprotected. Let’s think about some practical next steps we can take."

For a long moment the Bob-Whites stared uncomfortably at each other. No one knew what to do.

Honey spoke up first. "Since I work with Mrs. Travers I’ll see if I can find a time soon when I can maybe get her talking about Alison and the doctor’s appointment or – or at least something about Alison so we have a better understanding of her."

Trixie took the olive branch Honey had offered. "I’ve been getting to know Del. At first I don’t think he trusted me, but I think he does now. I can talk to him more and maybe learn more about what was going on with Tony and Greg. See if there have been some connections I’ve overlooked."

Staring at the table and slightly hunched over, Jim nodded. "I’ll see if I can find out more from Alison," he said.

"Should someone approach our esteemed vice-principal?" Mart asked. "Explain to him that Trixie, while certifiably crazy, is not responsible for this particular piece of craziness?"

"It sounds to me like Mr. Reed was just firing a warning shot across the bow," Brian said. "I don’t think we should make more of it than it is. Unless he makes some specific accusations, let’s leave well enough alone for now. If we can expose the real culprit, that clears everyone."

Trixie nodded.

"Well, if Trixie is investigating the Del angle and Honey and Jim are taking care of the Alison and Mrs. Travers angle, what will the rest of us do?" Mart asked. "I mean, Di’s got her hands full starring in the show," Mart bowed slightly in Diana’s direction and she smiled wryly. "But what about me and thee, elder brother?"

"Me and thee can see who else Alison knows and might have confided in, who else Del, Tony and Greg know, pick up a little extra information," Brian began.

"There was a basketball game last night," Honey said slowly. "Maybe someone was in the hall at some point and saw something near the theater, or saw something in the parking lot. Why don’t you question some of the people who went to the game?"

"That’s a good point," Trixie said. "If Tony or Greg were at the basketball game or were seen wandering around that might mean opportunities for them."

"Okay, then," Brian said. "Mart and I will see what else is out there."

The class bell rang then and the Bob-Whites, somewhat dispirited, headed off to their afternoon classes. The dissension in the group had sobered and dismayed them. Trixie walked through her afternoon schedule with a heavy heart. Jim’s disapproval stung and she knew Honey, the most loyal of friends, was torn between her loyalty to Trixie and to Jim.

"Oh, how did this get to be such a mess and why am I always in the middle of it?" Trixie asked herself. "Mart was right when he said I’d get in over my head."

When Trixie and Honey showed up for rehearsal the impact of the previous night was immediately apparent. The prop room door was locked, as were the external theater entrances. The cast and crew milled around in the hall until Mrs. Catania, accompanied by Mr. Reed, opened the doors. Along with two security guards Mr. Reed patrolled the back stage during the entire rehearsal, to the bewilderment of most of the cast and crew. No one but Nancy and Del had been told about the attack on Trixie or the menacing note in the primer reading book.

"It’s just extra security," Nancy and Mrs. Catania said to anyone who asked. "Let’s just get on with our rehearsal."

Much as she wanted to question Del and keep an eye on Alison, Trixie found that there were even fewer opportunities for detective work at this rehearsal than at others. Mrs. Catania was very anxious to take everyone’s mind off the extra security and keep them focused on the musical, so she kept things moving at a fast clip.

The rehearsal began with the first meeting of Annie Oakley and Frank Butler. Frank sang a song to Annie describing the kind of woman he would like to marry:

 

"The girl that I marry will have to be
as soft and as pink as a nursery.
The girl I call my own
Will wear satins and laces and smell of cologne."

From the stage right wings Trixie watched Alison on the opposite side of the stage. She was watching the scene intently. She wore a pink ruffled blouse. Dark blonde tendrils framed her face. "Exactly the kind of girl the song is about," Trixie thought. "Is she as sweet as everyone seems to think?"

After Frank left, Annie sang of her despair at being the kind of girl Frank – or any man -- would want. Trixie marveled at Di’s perseverance and pluck. Despite the upheaval surrounding the musical, her delivery was upbeat, maximizing the song’s comic lines:

"I’m quick on the trigger
with targets not much bigger
than a pinpoint of number one.
But my score with a feller
Is lower than a cellar
Oh, you can’t get a man with a gun!"

Trixie winced at the words. It was all hitting a little too close to home. She shook her head and looked down at her script to review the cues for the next change of scene. When she looked up, she saw Mrs. Travers and Mr. Reed standing upstage right, conferring quietly. After a minute, Mr. Reed put his hands in his pockets and strolled around backstage. From a distance it seemed to Trixie that Mrs. Travers’ looked directly at her with a glare. Then she turned back to the student she was fitting.

Trixie looked down. All of the cards were on the table now. Everyone, practically, knew what she thought, she had only indirect proof, and powerful people were skeptical of her case. In a way it was more frightening than being alone in a darkened theater.

"I don’t know how I’ll get this unraveled," Trixie thought, so she concentrated on her immediate tasks. "But if they are really trying to get Di to quit, they’ll have to try something else – and soon. Maybe the next time they’ll tip their hand."

When rehearsal came to an end, Nancy reminded everyone of the Valentine’s party at the Travers’ and quickly organized ride-sharing among cast and crew. Di, Trixie, and Honey rode in the Lynch limo. Trixie was planning to stay the night with Di and ride in with her to the Saturday "dry tech" rehearsal.

Alison and Mrs. Travers lived in a modest apartment, not far from Sleepyside High. Mrs. Travers met the girls at the door and greeted them in her typically over the top manner. But Trixie saw that beneath the cordiality, her eyes were snapping and she seemed to look at Trixie with particular wariness. She pointed the way to her bedroom and told the girls to leave their coats there. Trixie, Honey and Di piled their coats alongside others on the bed and then quickly checked their hair in the dresser mirror. As they were leaving the bedroom, Del came in, a big grin on his face. Trixie let Honey and Di go on and stopped to talk with him.

"You’re feeling good!" she said.

"That's because I’ve got the sun in the morning and the noon at night!" Del proclaimed jazzily, thrusting his arms and legs out as if he was in a chorus line. "I talked with Mr. Reed this afternoon. Right after rehearsal last night I gave one of the other students a ride home and stayed overnight. He can vouch for me. I wasn’t the one in the theater last night. I’m in the clear!" he took off his woolen scarf with a flourish and tucked it into the arm of his coat and laid it on the bed.

"That's terrific!" Trixie said.

"Yes, I – oh man, Trixie, I’m sorry. I was so excited for myself I forgot that you were the one who got hurt. Are you okay?" Del put his hand on Trixie’s arm.

"My head’s fine," Trixie said. "Well, at least my physical one is. Don’t worry Del, I’m really glad for you."

More crewmembers came in to leave their coats. "I guess I shouldn’t talk about it now. Mr. Reed asked me to be discreet ," Del said, lowering his voice. "I’ll tell you more later."

Trixie and Del made their way back into the crowded living room, chatting easily about rehearsal. Trixie looked around casually when a red head caught her attention. Jim Frayne was walking across the room carrying two cups of punch. He hesitated when he saw Trixie.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out.

Jim smiled slightly and shrugged, as if embarrassed. "Alison asked me," he said. "She asked a few of us from Home Room."

"Oh! Well…that’s nice," Trixie paused awkwardly.

"Yes," Jim tried a smile again, but it wouldn’t stay put. He looked as if he wanted to say something but had left the thought somewhere and couldn’t recall where. Trixie couldn't think of anything to say either.

They were standing there uncomfortably when a familiar, unctuous voice oozed up behind them. "Why, Jim, dear, I see you’ve helped yourself to some of my famous Cupid’s Kiss punch," it was Mrs. Travers. She was carrying a platter of plastic glasses filled with a pink punch and she planted herself between Trixie and Jim. "This punch has secret ingredients, sort of my own Love Potion #9," she giggled hysterically. "I don’t know if I should trust you with my daughter."

Jim maintained a polite mask while his eyes darted around wildly, looking for an escape. "Uh, I guess I should take Alison over her glass," he said, gesturing to where Alison was talking with another student.

"Oh, if you insist," Mrs. Travers said teasingly. "Here Trixie, help yourself to a glass of punch," Mrs. Travers held the platter toward Trixie.

Trixie watched Jim as he crossed the room and then turned to get a glass of punch. She saw that Mrs. Travers had followed her gaze and was now regarding Trixie with a look of peculiar satisfaction. Trixie avoided her eyes and concentrated on the punch. It was an overly sweet strawberry, not to her liking.

"It’s very tasty," she lied politely and saw to her relief that Honey was walking over to join them.

Mrs. Travers continued to eye Trixie knowingly. "Don’t they make a pretty pair?" she gestured toward Alison and Jim standing among a group of students, talking and laughing.

Trixie meant to say, "I guess," but all that came out was a mangled mumble.

Honey smiled pleasantly and said, "Hmmm…" possibly in agreement, possibly not.

"I’m just so excited about this show," Mrs. Travers continued. "Everyone is working so hard. I know my Alison knows the part of Annie Oakley backwards and forwards."

"So does Di," Trixie said pointedly.

"Well, I know Diana…tries…but, honestly," Mrs. Travers lowered her voice conspiratorially. "She does get her mords wixed, doesn’t she?" Mrs. Travers emphasized the phrase, "mords wixed" to show that she was doing it on purpose and elbowed Trixie’s ribs, laughing uproariously at her own joke.

Trixie recovered her balance while Honey stared unhappily into her punch.

"But I’ll tell you what’s so exciting," Mrs. Travers went on, seemingly oblivious to Honey and Trixie’s discomfort. "There are Broadway scouts coming to this performance."

"Really?" Trixie looked up. "I haven’t heard that."

"You bet your life. I just think it’s destiny that Ali and I moved here when we did. Mrs. Catania has some big shot friends in New York and some of them are going to be here for some of the performances. Just think! Somebody could get discovered right here in li’l ol’ Sleepyside," Mrs. Travers arched her eyebrows so high they disappeared into her bangs and she sallied off to offer punch to the other students.

"Tell me that’s not a real, live motive for wanting someone other than Di to play Annie Oakley," Trixie muttered after Mrs. Travers left.

"It is," Honey confirmed. "I hate to say it, but it is."

"And tell me also that that woman is not a walking cause of justifiable homicide."

"Huh?" Honey was confused.

"’Don’t Jim and my Ali make a pair?’" Trixie mimicked Mrs. Travers.

Honey snorted then. "Why, Trixie Belden, you’re jealous!"

Trixie sputtered in exasperation, managing to spray her white blouse with pink punch. "Oh, no!" she wailed.

Honey was laughing so hard she had to put down her own drink. She found some napkins on the counter and handed them to Trixie. Di joined them then, looking at them curiously.

"Trixie’s got a little competition," Honey said by way of explanation, inclining her head in the direction of Jim and Alison.

"Not for long," Di said emphatically.

"What do you mean?" Trixie asked.

Di shrugged. "Jim likes you." she said flatly.

Trixie ducked her head and smiled.

Honey nodded. "I think Jim wants to be a friend to Alison. He really does think she’s in need of help," she said, but she continued to regard Trixie with amusement.

To change the subject, Trixie told the girls she’d learned something interesting from Del. They moved off to a corner then. Keeping her voice low, Trixie told Honey and Di that Del had been cleared.

"I’m really glad to hear that," Honey said with relief. "I never have suspected him and I’m glad he’s off the list."

"You never suspect anyone," Trixie said with a smile and a gentle nudge at Honey, glad to have a chance to tease her back a little. "Some detective!"

Honey laughed. "I know. Sometimes I don’t know if I have the heart – or the nerves – for detecting. I didn’t come up with anything new this afternoon," she said, explaining that she’d not had the opportunity to question Mrs. Travers any more. "We spent the entire afternoon doing one fitting after another. Plus, it’s almost getting to be too hot to handle. Mrs. Travers is on edge with Mr. Reed and those security guards around all the time."

"If only they’d ask some questions," Trixie said. "Of the right people."

The girls parted then and circulated among the other students. Trixie found, to her dismay, that circulating required some careful choreography on her part. Her gaze turned more often than she liked to where Jim was standing and she was dismayed to realize that she didn’t feel right approaching him. She was also aware that Mrs. Travers’ eagle eye was on her nearly constantly. Trixie was relieved when Di came over saying she wanted to make sure that she was rested for Saturday’s long tech rehearsal. The girls said their good-byes early.

Back in the luxury of Di’s royal blue and gold-decorated bedroom, Trixie and Di got ready for bed and talked over the production.

"So, it looks like Alison and Mrs. Travers are behind this," Di said. "It’s strange but I am actually more relaxed knowing that I wasn’t imagining things," she pulled back the monogrammed covers of her twin bed and climbed in.

"What do you think about Alison and Mrs. Travers?" Trixie asked. "Jim practically takes my head off for even suggesting Alison."

"It’s been awkward between Alison and I, there’s no doubt about that," Di said. "But I agree with Jim at least this much: I think Mrs. Travers cares a lot more about Alison having the lead than Alison does."

"It’s incredible to me that Mr. Reed has such a blind spot," Trixie said.

Di yawned. "It’s just a feeling, but I think things will come to a head in the next few days," she reached over and turned off the bedside light. "Even though it’s not over, I’m not very worried. I feel I can carry on and do my part whatever comes."

"Now if I can just do mine," Trixie thought before she fell asleep.

 

Chapter 13: "You Blew It!"

The next morning, Trixie and Di dressed quickly in jeans and sweaters. They ate a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and cinnamon toast out on the Lynch’s terrace.

Trixie downed the last of her orange juice with a slurp. "That should help me get the flying scenery on its trim, assuming it doesn’t get tangled in the battens or rigging," she said.

"You’re certainly learning the lingo," Di said with a smile and then her face lit up. "Trixie, that gives me an idea of how we can have some fun with Mart."

Trixie groaned. "Fun and my brother do not belong in the same sentence," she said, but she listened with growing interest as Di described her idea. By the time the Lynch chauffeur had dropped the girls off for rehearsal, Trixie agreed that it could be a good way to put Mart in his place. She and Di entered the theater in high spirits, in contrast to most of the cast and crew, who were a bit grouchy about being out so early on a Saturday. Even Honey was not quite her usual cheerful self, yawning as she and Mrs. Travers set up shop in the left hand wings for another round of fittings.

The "tech" rehearsal was a grueling day. For the first time, the cast and crew went straight through the entire musical with all of the technical aspects in place. The actors didn’t wear their costumes or actually say many lines or sing songs. Instead they went directly from one entrance, exit, or cue to the next, giving the crew the chance to practice the sequence of curtain raisings and lowerings, scene and lighting changes, and getting props to the right place.

It was like one long day of drills. When mistakes were made – which was not infrequent – the crew corrected the errors as quickly as possible and made notes in their scripts to remind themselves. Late morning Trixie and Ryan were to lower the curtain at the end of the first rendition of "There’s No Business Like Show Business." However, the two jumped the gun, starting the curtain lowering before Nancy had actually called the cue. That left Di and Robert and a couple of other lead actors who were downstage, in front of the curtain instead of behind it when it was lowered.

"Cut!" Mrs. Catania cried. "Now you see what can happen? You bring the curtain down too soon and you have Annie and Frank stuck in front looking silly." Mrs. Catania approached the stage. "What’s more important is that there are steel weights in the hem of that curtain to make sure it hangs straight. I think Nancy or Del has told you about this. If that curtain were to be lowered quickly onto their heads, it could knock the daylights out of them or even worse. So, let’s be careful back there."

Trixie and Ryan nodded and made their notes. Trixie was returning to the wings when she noticed that Mrs. Travers had wandered away from the costume fitting area and had been listening to Mrs. Catania with interest.

"Oh boy," Trixie thought. "Mrs. Catania is broadcasting lethal information." But she had to push that thought aside and focus on the next cues.

By early afternoon they had made it to the next to the last scene of the musical. It featured Di/Annie in a big production number, I Got the Sun in the Morning and the Moon at Night. Mrs. Catania painstakingly put the cast and crew through their paces of entrances and lighting cues.

"Now, when she sings for the second time, ‘and with the sun in the morning,’ at that point, Di will climb that far staircase and Nancy will cue the spotlight," she said.

Di climbed the three-tread staircase to demonstrate, but just as she hit the top step her eyes widened in surprise and she started to lose her balance. From the wings Trixie could see that the wooden bracing supporting the tread was loose and the step was about to fall through.

"Catch her!" she cried.

Robert Wells, starring in the scene with Di, had also seen what was happening and rushed to her side. He caught Di around the waist and lifted her up just as the step gave way. The staircase collapsed completely with a bang and for a long moment no one made a sound. Then everyone rushed to Di’s side with cries and exclamations.

"Are you all right?" Nancy Norland got there first.

Di looked a little shaken, but nodded her head. She put her weight gingerly on her ankle and winced. Del brought over a chair for Di to sit on and Nancy sent Ryan after ice for an ice pack. The security guards came from backstage and joined the crowd. They crowded everyone else out, asked Di again if she was all right, and looked around with serious expressions. Otherwise, they didn't seem ready to do anything.

Trixie couldn’t keep quiet any longer. "I knew it! This is more vandalism!" she exclaimed. "There was someone in here the night before last night," she turned to the guards, speaking quickly. "I was in the dressing room and heard someone overhead. Then when I came up, they hit me over the head. They must have been messing with this staircase. That has to be it, the theater hasn’t been open any other time."

There was a murmur among the students as Trixie told of being attacked.

The guards looked confused. "What makes you think someone did something on purpose to this staircase?" one asked her.

"Okay, all right," Mrs. Catania came up on stage then. "Del, look at the staircase and see what it will take to fix it. I don’t know that the staircase was deliberately damaged, Trixie. It was probably never checked properly in the first place. These things do happen," she said.

"No, Mrs. Catania, I was standing on it the night before last," Trixie insisted. "You were working on the lighting cues for this song and asked me to stand there while you made up your mind about color and intensity. I stood there for two or three minutes shifting from one leg to the other and it was solid as a rock."

"I believe you’re right," the drama coach said slowly.

Del was nodding also. "I remember that."

"Someone did this on purpose to endanger Di," Trixie said.

"To get at Di?" Nancy asked skeptically. "Anyone could have climbed that…" she stopped, stared at the staircase, and seemed to be thinking.

"Exactly," Trixie said, reading Nancy’s mind. "No one else was likely to be climbing this staircase. It’s not used for any entrances or exits, just for this one production number. Just Di."

Nancy nodded and now Mrs. Catania was staring hard at the staircase, lost in thought. The security guards joined Del by the staircase and watched as he inspected it.

"Some nails and brackets are loose," he announced.

"Someone did this on purpose to get at Di," she felt like a broken record, but Trixie felt the point mustn’t be brushed aside.

"You were here that night. You made up a special excuse to come back in here alone, you said so yourself. It could have been you did this," Mrs. Travers said loudly, pointing her finger and staring straight at Trixie.

"I haven't done anything!" Trixie said hotly. "Di’s my friend! You and your daughter are the ones dead set that Alison should be the star!" Out of the corner of her eye, Trixie could see Alison gasp and turn pale.

"You’re just jealous!" Mrs. Travers huffed. "Your friend is jealous and you’re jealous because that Jim pays attention to her, not you. You’re out to get my Ali!"

Trixie was too stunned to reply.

"Okay, everybody calm down," Mrs. Catania’s voice rose. "I will not have these kinds of accusations spreading turmoil in our rehearsal time," she glared from Trixie to Mrs. Travers. "We’ll get to the bottom of this. The guards can interview those involved. In the mean time, Di, you put your foot up on the ice pack and watch for the rest of the afternoon. Alison will stand in for you for the last scene."

A look of undisguised triumph came over Mrs. Travers’ face as Di was helped to the side and Alison took center stage. Subdued crewmembers pushed the staircase backstage where Del and his crew could work on it later. The cast and crew went about the rest of the rehearsal, hardly speaking except for giving or receiving direct commands.

Worse, Trixie felt, her heated exchange with Mrs. Travers had put the spotlight on her in a most uncomfortable way. Some people seemed to be glancing at her out of curiosity, concern, or amusement. Meanwhile, others completely avoided making eye contact with her. Trixie bit her lip and tried to maintain her composure.

When the rehearsal ended she hurried over to check on Di. Honey was there, along with Nancy and a few other cast members. Di was stretching her leg and wiggling her toes. "Better!" she pronounced.

"There doesn’t seem to be any swelling so far, so it’s probably just a mild sprain," Nancy agreed. "But I’d continue the ice pack this evening and stay off of it as much as possible tomorrow."

"Definitely," Di agreed.

Honey and Trixie helped Di to the theater entrance where the Lynch limo was waiting. "Now I’ve put my foot in it," Trixie said under her breath as the girls walked slowly up the theater aisle.

"And here I thought it was my foot, but it’s going to be okay," Di laughed. Then she added quietly, "Do you really think the staircase was sabotaged, Trixie?"

"Absolutely. That staircase was fine the night before last – not a single wobble. And it was the same person who hit me on the head. The theater hasn’t been open otherwise, except for rehearsals and no one could do that during rehearsal without other people noticing."

"But you didn’t see who hit you that night," Honey said.

"No, but I doubt that we’ve got two completely different sets of vandals!" Trixie exclaimed.

As Trixie and Honey helped Di into her limo, Tom Delanoy drove up.

"You go ahead, I’ve got to stay and talk to the guards," Trixie said to Honey. "I think I can catch a ride home with Del," she paused. "Are you mad at me for blurting that out about Mrs. Travers and Alison?"

Honey hesitated. "Mrs. Travers was baiting you. You were mainly defending yourself, so I can't really blame you, but I am…I don’t know, it doesn’t help when charges fly back and forth and I’m worried about the wrong person getting accused."

"Like me?" Suddenly fed up, Trixie threw her arms up in the air. "Everyone is so concerned about poor Alison getting accused, but I’m getting accused and I for sure didn't do anything."

"I know that, Trixie!" Honey cried.

Trixie sighed. "Right. It’s been a long day."

"What do you think will happen?"

Trixie shrugged her shoulders. "At this point, it’s still just my word against hers," she said and walked back into the theater.

Trixie started in helping to clear the stage, wondering if she was expected to apologize for what she’d said to Mrs. Travers. When she saw an opportunity to talk to Nancy Norland alone, she approached her quietly. "Nancy, I’m sorry about…" Trixie paused. She wasn’t sure what she was sorry about. "Well, I’m sorry if I’ve blundered into this and made the situation worse."

"I don’t think you’ve made the situation worse," Nancy said firmly. "You’re noticing things others haven’t. What you said about the staircase is probably right. As to proving exactly who was involved with it, well…that’s another story," she smiled wryly. "But I’ll tell you this, I sure don’t think it was you who sabotaged that staircase. I doubt anyone else does either," she said, closing her prompt book with a sharp snap. "Let’s just get this stage cleared and we can all take a break for the weekend."

Relieved at Nancy’s attitude, Trixie agreed and helped put away scenery until she was called over to talk to the guards. Their questioning was perfunctory. What had she seen or heard that night she was attacked, what had she seen or heard since then? Trixie answered as completely as she could, but she sensed that the guards had been hired in from the outside and didn't have much background on what had been happening backstage. She doubted her information would mean much to them and they didn't seem inclined to do much except make a report.

Afterwards, Trixie returned to her prop table, loaded the prop box, and took it back to the prop room. The theater was thinning out as cast and crewmembers started to head home. As she settled the box on the shelf she suddenly had the sensation that some one was behind her. Alarmed, she got up quickly and turned around. She let her breath when she saw it was Del.

"I’m sorry to startle you, Trixie. I’ve been wanting to talk to --" he started and then stopped as Alison Travers walked into the prop room, her face tense and worried.

Alison stopped in her tracks when she saw Trixie. The grief in the girl’s eyes was plain to see and suddenly, despite her worry for Di, Trixie was desperately sorry for Alison’s situation. Without quite realizing what she was saying, she started talking. "Look, Alison, I got carried away. I hadn’t intended to blurt all that out in front of everybody," she said. "I’m really sorry –"

"Forget it!" Alison’s voice was choking with emotion. From backstage Mrs. Travers was calling Alison, saying it was time to go home and she gathered her belongings as quickly as she could. "You had a chance with this, but you blew it!" She reached the door from the prop room to the theater and turned back around. "You blew it!" she repeated and ran from the room.

Trixie was astonished. She and Del stood stock still, looking at each other.

"What was that?" Trixie asked, when she was finally able to talk.

Del shook his head in confusion. Then he ducked his had and looked back up apologetically at Trixie. "I don’t know exactly what’s been going on, but I know a little bit more than I told you at first," he said, brushing his hair back nervously.

"Okay," Trixie found that she was holding her breath.

"The morning the costumes were destroyed I did see something. From fairly far down the hall I saw Mrs. Travers leaving the prop room. She stopped at the newsstand and picked up a bunch of copies of the newspaper, the Clarion, as she was walking outside. When we got nearer the prop room, I saw that all of the copies of the newspaper had been taken from the stand. That seemed a bit odd. I thought maybe she was going to distribute them around town, or something, as publicity."

Trixie felt a little let down. "We already knew that Mrs. Travers had been in the prop room that morning. I’m not sure why it matters that she took copies of the newspaper."

Del gulped. "That’s not all," he said, pausing again. He continued, almost in a whisper. "Tony and Jeff did see that the costumes were torn up. We were all too scared to say anything! Since they’d taken those guns, we thought for sure it would be blamed on us."

Trixie gripped her blonde curls in frustration. "Del, you’ve known all along!" She exclaimed. "If Mrs. Travers just brought the costumes in early that morning and they were destroyed five or ten minutes later when you got there, then there’s only one person who could have done this…Oh! I want to tear my hair out! Or, your hair out! You should have told somebody!" she jabbed at his arm.

Del hung his head. "I know, I know! But, we were afraid! Tony and Jeff were already in a lot of trouble for taking those guns and I was in trouble for letting them. And besides…" Del hesitated then went on. "I don’t know what is going on with Alison, but I feel bad for her. I’ve seen her around at other times, Trixie. Crying. Once backstage by herself. And, once I came in early and she was in Mrs. Catania’s office talking on the phone with someone, and she was crying."

Trixie stared at Mrs. Catania’s office picturing Alison crying on the telephone. Something stirred at the corner of her awareness, but she couldn’t quite see it clearly.

"You’ve got to say something, Del. The fact that the boys saw the torn costumes narrows down the time very conclusively. It was Alison, possibly egged into it by Mrs. Travers. You’ve got to tell Mrs. Catania or Mr. Reed, or both."

Del nodded. "I just hate to see this happen to Alison. I can't help but think that it’s just…well, she’s got such a nutcase for a mother!"

"You said a mouthful there," Trixie declared. "Look, I’m tired. Why don’t you give me a ride home? Everybody’s either gone or busy so I think you at this point you can wait until Monday to say something. Maybe – maybe we’ll figure something else out between now and then," she shook her head in bewilderment. "Like why Alison says I blew it."

 

Chapter 14: Moms’ Apple Pie

Though they puzzled over it most of the ride home, neither Trixie nor Del could figure out what Alison had been talking about. Trixie got out of the car at Crabapple Farm, called good-by to Del, and took a deep breath. It was cold, but not uncomfortably so. Clouds were gathering and there was a hint of moisture in the air, possibly some snow coming.

"I haven’t had time outside in over a week," she thought. Hardly any riding time. "I feel like a mole, cooped up in that theater every day." Trixie looked at the sky speculatively. Possibly about another hour or so of daylight. The prospect of leaving her worries about Di, Alison, and the whole kit and caboodle behind on the trail was so inviting. "I think I’ll drop off my books and run up to the Manor House and see if Susie or Starlight needs exercise or can stand some more," she thought.

But when she got inside, her mother had different ideas. "Have you had a chance to look at the grout in the downstairs bathroom, like we talked?" she asked. "Because I think Mart and your father would like to repair the grout and then paint in there, but we have to get the grout cleaned up first."

"Right," Trixie said, feeling a bit guilty. She hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the grout. "So much for riding," she thought, hurrying upstairs to change into her oldest and grungiest jeans and t-shirt.

She came back downstairs, grabbed cleanser, sponges, rags, and rubber gloves and went to work on the bathroom. Cleaning the grout was about the worst job Trixie could think of. It called for patience and attention to detail, two things Trixie was short of. But she went to work, spraying the cleanser in between tiles and rubbing with her gloved hand to clean off the stains.

As she worked she reflected on what Del had told her. "The mystery is basically solved," she thought. "It can only have been Alison, maybe incited by her mother. If Mr. Barlow is right, no one else was in or out of the prop room during that time period."

"So why don’t I feel better?" she wondered, sponging some stray cleanser from the tiles. "And why do I still have the feeling that nobody is going to be glad that the mystery is solved?"

Honey, Jim, even Del, who had known all along – no one was going to be glad to see the arrow pointing so directly at Alison. "Jim may never forgive me," Trixie thought gloomily, brushing her hair back with her arm and starting to scrub again. "Or else, he’ll think of me as the girl who put away that pretty, sweet Alison. Soft and pink as a nursery," she half-sang to herself.

She heard Bobby coming running through the hallway and dining room, followed closely by Mart. Apparently, he and Mart had watched the Annie Get Your Gun video several times and Bobby had many of the lyrics memorized. Now he was singing:

"A man’s love is mighty,
he’ll even buy a nightie
for a gal that he thinks is fun.
But they don’t buy pajamas
For pistol-packin’ mamas,
Oh, you can’t get a man with a gun!"

Mrs. Belden came out of the kitchen as Bobby triumphantly finished his song. Her mouth gaped. "Mart, I don’t know if we want Bobby to go around singing those lyrics!"

"I can’t stop him. I’ve created a Frankenstein," Mart said. "A musical, midget Frankenstein!"

Trixie paused her work and stood on the threshold of the bathroom door.

Bpbby kept singing and turned to Trixie:

"You can’t get a man with a gun! Pow! Pow! You’re a pistol-packin’ mama! You can’t get a man!"

"Oh, Bobby, just cool it!" Trixie exclaimed. Throwing her sponges and gloves down in the bathtub, she pushed past a startled Mart, Moms, and Bobby and raced to her room.

Trixie slammed her bedroom door and flounced onto her bed. She stared blindly out the window as a few flakes drifted past. She felt like a fool, but the words to the song seemed to taunt her. "But I lose all my luster, when with a bronco buster, oh, you can't get a man with a gun."

There was a knock on the door. "Trixie?" Mart called.

"Yes?" she answered grumpily. "C’mon in."

Mart opened the door a crack. "Our maternal parent is requesting the honor of your presence downstairs in the kitchen," he said. After a pause, almost timidly he asked, "You okay?"

Trixie sighed and chuckled ruefully. "Fine, tell Moms I’ll be right there." After Mart left, she stopped in the upstairs bathroom, splashed some water on her face and went downstairs. Mrs. Belden was measuring out flour and shortening for pie crusts. A delicious aroma of apples, cinnamon, and sugar came from a pot cooking on the stove.

"Smells good, Moms," Trixie said, trying to keep her voice upbeat. "Did you need me for something? I was going to go back to the grout."

"The grout can wait, Trixie. Why don’t you help me with these pies?" Mrs. Belden said. She handed Trixie the large mixing bowl and a pastry blender. Trixie frowned slightly, but began cutting the shortening into the dry ingredients. Mrs. Belden stirred the pie filling quietly for a moment, then turned back to Trixie. "Is there something you’d like to talk about?"

Trixie stared hard at the pie dough, willing herself not to cry. "Oh, Moms, it’s just that everything has turned into a big mess!"

"Messes can be cleaned up," Mrs. Belden said with a smile.

"Maybe," Trixie said. "I took on this mystery to solve for Di because all this stuff was happening and she was going to quit the musical and now I think I’ve solved it, but instead of it all working out, it’s making everybody mad."

Mrs. Belden looked confused. Trixie backed up and went through the story in a more sequential, detailed order for her mother – except for leaving out the attack on her in the theater, which she decided would upset her mother.

"Trixie, if this boy, Del, and Mr. Barlow’s testimony point to this girl as the guilty party, I don’t see that that’s your fault," Mrs. Belden said when Trixie had finished.

"I know but…" Trixie looked at the dough, embarrassed. "Everybody feels sorry for her. Everybody thinks she’s so sweet. Nobody wants her to be guilty. Everybody likes her…Jim likes her."

"Jim Frayne?" Mrs. Belden asked innocently.

Trixie nodded. "Mrs. Travers made it out like I’ve got a crush on Jim and am jealous of Alison and that’s why I’m accusing her," Trixie blushed.

"That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. You wouldn’t stoop to that kind of thing," Mrs. Belden said angrily.

"I wouldn’t! That’s not why I’m accusing her. But, the thing is, Moms, oh, Moms," Trixie moaned. "It’s so embarrassing, but it’s true. I do have, I mean, I kinda have a crush, I mean, I do like Jim and I am jealous," Abashed, Trixie muttered out the last few words under her breath and then looked up at her mother.

"Well, at least it’s not that brat, Ben Riker," Mrs. Belden said matter-of-factly.

Shocked, Trixie burst out laughing. "Moms! All last fall when I was pretending to have a crush on Ben, you never said you thought he was a brat!"

"And, if it had turned out that you really liked him, I never would have called him a brat. But since we now know that your crush was a phony as most of the joo-wels you wore that week, I can say what I really think!" Mrs. Belden pulled out some pie pans with a clatter.

"He is kind of a brat," Trixie said, still chuckling. Then the pain returned. "But Jim’s not and Honey’s not and I’m afraid I’m going to lose my friends or the Bob-Whites are going to come apart over this."

"Oh, Trixie, I really doubt that. All of you have been such good friends. There is always tension from time to time in relationships. But Honey and Jim and the others know you too well and think too much of you to drop your friendship. As well they should," Mrs. Belden said, warming to her subject. "I don’t think I tell you often enough how proud I am to have you as a daughter," Trixie looked up doubtfully and Mrs. Belden continued. "You’re so much yourself. You hold your own with the boys and you give as good as you get."

"I guess I hold my own all right, but it’s kinda like Annie Oakley," Trixie said morosely. "You can't get a man with a gun."

Mrs. Belden laughed and patted Trixie’s shoulder.

"I mean it, Moms. I’m never going to get the hang of this growing up business, especially the boy-girl part. I don’t have the first idea how to flirt. I feel like a goon even thinking about trying something like that."

"I’m sorry, Trixie, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just that everyone – practically – feels awkward in that department, especially at first. You’re not much different, or, to the extent that you are different, you’re different in ways that make me very proud," Mrs. Belden insisted. "You have your own opinions and thoughts and you take action for the things you believe in. Of course, you’ll mature, but I’d hate to have you think that maturing means turning into a cover girl or some teen magazine’s idea of a flirt. You can have a real relationship with a boy based on who you are, not based on how some people think you ought to behave."

Trixie put the dough on the pastry board in the middle of the table. As she rolled out the dough she considered what her mother had said. "Jeepers, I hope so," she said. "The worst part is that I’m afraid Jim thinks badly of me…that I’m jumping to conclusions or, worst of all that I’m jealous and that’s why I’m doing this."

"Jim strikes me as too sensible a young man to be mistaken about this for very long," Mrs. Belden said. "Is there any reason you can't go to him and tell him, this is what I’m doing and why."

"I just hate to bring up all that crush-type stuff," Trixie said uncomfortably. "I don’t think I could look him in the eye."

Mrs. Belden laughed again and nodded. "If he has any sense, he’ll know who and what you are by the way you act not by the way other people talk about you," Mrs. Belden said quietly. "And, if it turns out he doesn’t have more sense than that, then you should have the sense not to worry about his opinion. It’s not worth it."

"You make it sound easy and simple," Trixie said.

"It may not be easy, but you can do it. All I’m saying as far as the boys go, is, work on keeping your heart to yourself for the next few years. Keep riding horses, enjoying your friends, and keeping up with your club activities. Your father and I are delighted that you have your club and you can have the companionship of such a fine young people, including Jim," Mrs. Belden said. "He’s a wonderful boy, but Trixie, he’s just a boy, barely a young man. And you’re just a girl. I know that it seems like forever now, but you’ll only be a teen-ager for a few years and," she shrugged her shoulders with a smile," You’ll be an adult for many, many years, believe me. It’s only natural that boys – some boy -- will play an increasing part in your life. But keep your heart to yourself for the next few years. You know that your father and I don’t want you to date for at least another year. The only thing that you and Jim should be committed to for a long, long while are the ideals of your club - helping others."

Trixie had kept her eyes on the rolling pin and the pastry dough as her mother talked, but she had hung on every word. She looked up then. "More than anything, I do want Jim as my friend. And Honey," her voice started to waver.

Mrs. Belden put her arms around her. "They are your friends. This is just a situation that takes some time to get sorted out. You haven’t done anything wrong. As far as I can tell, you’ve done a lot towards helping identify who’s doing this mischief so they can put on the musical! You’re a very special girl, Trixie, and, trust me, more than one young man is going to figure that out!" Mrs. Belden reached over and lightly pinched Trixie’s nose, leaving a layer of flour on her face.

Trixie smiled and swatted her mother’s hand away. "You’re the best, Moms!"

"Now, let’s get these pies in the oven so they’ll be ready for dinner," Mrs. Belden said briskly.

Trixie pitched in to help her mother, carrying plates and silverware to the dining room table. As she set the table, Bobby came sidling in. He looked at Trixie warily.

"Whatcha doin, kiddo?" she asked.

"Nothin," Bobby said. He walked over to Trixie and handed her a framed picture. Trixie had seen it before. It was a picture of the "par-squirrel" that Ben Riker had made for Bobby when he’d been visiting the previous autumn. Once Bobby had "trapped" the animal Ben had created, Ben had taken a picture and framed it for Bobby – rather expensively -- as a trophy. "You can have this, Trixie, since I made you feel bad."

Trixie laughed and pulled Bobby towards her and gave him a big hug. "You didn’t make me feel so bad. That didn’t matter at all." She looked at the picture a minute. "But could I borrow this for right now and get you a new frame next week?"

"Sure, Trix."

After a good dinner, capped by apple pie fresh from the oven, Trixie went to her room with a much lighter heart than she would have expected earlier that day. Her Moms was right. Honey and Jim would still be her friends. She still felt more than a little twinge of jealousy about Jim, but she decided to follow her mother’s advice and focus on the friendship she had with him.

"My Moms is the best!" she thought as she turned off the light and climbed into bed. "What would I do without her? I feel sorry for Alison that she doesn’t have that kind of mother," at that thought she sat straight up in bed. She looked out her window where the moon shone on the dusting of snow that had fallen in the evening. "Alison doesn’t have that kind of mother," she mulled over that thought a moment.

In her mind’s eye Trixie saw the events of the past several days go past like a parade: the torn costumes, the scissors left on display in Mrs. Catania’s office, the warning message in the book, and Del coming upon Alison crying in Mrs. Catania’s office. "Oh, I get it," she thought. "Now I see what really happened."

Sunday morning Trixie got up early and tackled the bathroom grout with gusto. She worked all morning and, by noon, had gotten it all cleaned, to her mother’s delight. She ate a quick lunch and told Brian he didn't need to take her turn at riding.

"I’ll see you at the clubhouse for the meeting," Trixie told Brian and Mart. The BWG’s had set a meeting for Sunday afternoon to discuss what to do next about the backstage investigation.

Before leaving, Trixie went to her bedroom and got the picture she’d taken of Patch and Jim. Carefully, she removed the "par-squirrel" photo and inserted her photo of Patch and Jim. Trixie inspected it. The frame was very nice and it fit the photo perfectly. "A nice gesture from a friend," she reminded herself. She put the framed photo in her jacket pocket. Then she ran a comb through her curls and, on impulse, tied a big blue headband that matched the blue sweater she was wearing, into her hair. She went to the medicine cabinet and got out a lipstick that she kept there, but rarely used. Taking a quick look out of the corner of her eye – Mart could be coming around the corner any minute, ready to mock her – she applied it carefully to her mouth. She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment.

"I guess that’ll do," she said and bounded down the stairs. "I’ll be back this evening," she called out as she left.

Trixie hurried up the path to the Manor House, exhilarated at the prospect of an afternoon on horseback. She rushed into the stables and was surprised to see Jim leading Jupiter, the Wheeler’s big, black gelding, out of his stall. He looked surprised, too, but smiled. Trixie took a deep breath and gathered her determination about her.

"I’m riding so Brian doesn’t have to take my turn," she explained. "I got my other chores done already," she went over to get a saddle for Susie.

"Great, I’ll wait for you," Jim said.

Trixie entered Susie’s stall and began saddling her. She chatted a bit with Jim about the light snow of the night before and the prospects for more snow in the evening. As she led Susie out, Trixie decided to bite the bullet. She looked up at Jim. "I suppose Honey has told you about what happened at the rehearsal yesterday," she began, pleasantly, but firmly.

Jim nodded.

"Afterwards I talked to Del and he had some more information that points toward Alison and I’ll tell you about it, but I just want to say this one thing," Trixie fidgeted with the reins a bit, and then went on. "I haven’t been purposely looking for evidence against Alison or anyone because of you or your – well – your friendship with her or -- or them. I would never do that."

"I know you wouldn’t, Trixie," Jim smiled broadly and reached over and squeezed her elbow. "I never thought that for a minute. Mrs. Travers says some crazy things. I’m pretty sure that’s why Alison is so upset so much of the time."

Trixie nodded.

"I’ve been meaning to say, I think I got a little hot under the collar at lunch the other day. I know you’ve gone all out to help Di and I know it means the world to her," Jim looked down at Trixie as if considering her carefully. "I really do think it’s great how you just take things on, come hell or high water!"

They laughed briefly and then Jim continued, looking serious again. "I feel I haven't been setting a good Bob-White example in some of this. I haven’t been there for you."

Trixie looked at him thoughtfully. "It just gets complicated because there’s more than one person to be there for – for all of us. I think that’s what Honey is feeling."

Jim nodded and seemed relieved that Trixie understood. They led the horses out into the morning sun. "Are you going to tell me about what Del said? I’ll try to listen with an open mind, but Trixie, I guess we’re still on different wavelengths on this. I don’t see how Alison could have done all of these things."

"And you’re exactly right!" Trixie cried exultantly. "And, so am I! There’s no difference! I figured it out last night. I had completely forgotten about the scissors being left out on Mrs. Catania’s desk," Trixie climbed up on Susie and in the process, pulled her headband loose. Impatiently she pulled it off, stuck it in her pocket, and tossed her blonde curls back.

Jim cocked his head and looked at her quizzically. "Scissors?"

"Come on! I’ll tell you about it on the trail," Trixie said and galloped off.