Illinois, Interstate 94 East

Trixie shifted in her seat, looking out at the passing rows of corn stalks and sighed. "I thought Chicago was a city. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much corn in one place. How far did you say we have to go, Jim?"

Jim glanced up in the rearview mirror and grinned at her. "Not much longer now. Besides, we already saw two cities on the way. Didn’t Madison and Rockford help break up the monotony of corn just a little bit?"

"Perhaps it’s not all corn," Mart said, looking up from his Illinois guidebook that he’d purchased at the Illinois welcome center. "Illinois is second in the nation in soybean production."

Dan rolled his eyes and shoved Mart into Di who let out a slight squeal as her Diet Coke swished dangerously in her can. "I can speak for Trixie on this one," his dark-haired friend interjected. "After spending hours and hours seeing nothing but corn in Iowa, trust me, she would know corn when she sees it."

Honey sighed and squirmed uncomfortably between Jim and Brian in the front seat. "I’ll just be glad to get out of this car. I feel like we’ve been in it for years."

Brian grinned at her, shifting his legs to give her more room. "You’re just used to traveling in style, Miss Wheeler. Oh, if you only knew the perils of a Belden car trip…"

Mart and Trixie immediately chimed in their agreement. "You mean the perils of being the middle child in the backseat of the car," Mart said with a long-suffering sigh. "Trixie dropping her crayons on the seat so that they melted into pools of wax which, of course, I’d sit down on and burn myself. I still have the scars…" He lifted up one of his legs but before he could peer any further, Trixie reached around Dan and elbowed him in the ribs.

"This highly edited version does not cover the hours of Mart poking and pushing me and stealing the said crayons which would have been in the box, unmelted, if he hadn’t stolen them in the first place," Trixie retorted hotly, tossing her blonde curls and glaring at her brother.

Before Mart could protest further, Brian looked at Honey with a grin. "As I was saying, the perils of a Belden car trip."

The four other Bob-Whites all chuckled in response, Mart and Trixie both glaring at the back of Brian’s head.

Jim laughed. "Okay, peace you three! There aren’t any of us who can cope with a Belden family argument right now. Why don’t you put that guidebook to good use, Mart, and find us a hotel?"

Sometime later, after corn stalks had turned into subdivisions and subdivisions had turned into tightly packed bungalows, the interstate wove its way into the heart of the city, its tall, glassy skyscrapers jutting up proudly into the cloudless blue sky.

Mart and Dan leaned over, pressing Di into the back of the seat, amidst her squealed protests.

"Hey, you clods!" Di said in mock anger. She pushed against Mart who was staring, slack-jawed at the lean, dark lines of the Sears Tower.

"Wow! Will you look at that?" Dan breathed. "I can’t get over how tall it is!"

"Look from someplace else!" Di said firmly, pushing again on Mart who fell against Dan in a tangle of legs and arms that took a few seconds to sort out.

"Hey!" Jim exclaimed as a sneakered foot nearly hit Honey in the head. "Will you two clowns sit down? The last thing I need is to have a rear-end collision with this Lexus in front of me."

"And I like my head the way it is, thank you very much," added Honey pertly. She looked over her shoulder at Mart with a grin. "Have you found us a hotel yet? We seem to have arrived."

"There’s a Hyatt Regency near Michigan Avenue or we could stay at this Hotel Intercontinental." Mart shook his head as he paged through the guidebook. "These are really expensive, Honey. I don’t know. It seems like everything on Michigan Avenue is three hundred a night or more. But I don’t know where else to stay."

Honey glanced at Jim who shrugged his shoulders. "I’ve never been here, Honey. The last time Dad and Mother were in Chicago, I was studying for finals at school."

Honey bit her lip a moment and then said, "Well, Mart…just direct us to the Hotel Intercontinental. I think Daddy’s stayed there before. I don’t want to stay in some bad part of town."

"Well, we’ll trust your judgment," Mart said cheerfully. He gestured at Jim. "Get off at the next exit and I’ll tell you where to go."

"A prime opportunity you’ve been waiting years for?" Di asked sweetly.

Jim snorted as he turned off the expressway, slowing down to join the long line of cars turning left on to the street. Mart merely grinned and turned his attention back to the map.

 

Some time later…

Trixie fell back on her bed, closing her eyes in rapture. "I’m so glad to be out of that car! I think we may have to burn the car when we get back to New York. I don’t ever want to ride in it again."

Di collapsed next to her, nodding her agreement. "I may never leave home again," she said in dramatic tones.

Honey giggled as she looked at her friends, shaking her head. "Too bad we’re due back home in a couple short weeks so we can go to college."

Trixie rolled her eyes and grimaced. "Don’t remind me. And I was so enjoying the fact that I was done with school…"

Di turned her head and said, "Well, we have been on the road for almost two months. School comes back around pretty quickly." A slow grin crossed her face. "But I’m surprised at you, Miss Belden. You have seemed to take the day in, day out company of a certain red haired gentleman with no problems on this vacation. Could it be that you’re dreading going to school in the fall for other reasons?"

A pink blush tinged Trixie’s cheeks. She opened her mouth to reply and then shut it again firmly.

Honey’s hazel eyes twinkled. "I seem to recall that Jim has been spending a lot of time on the internet pricing round-trip tickets and driving distances between two certain colleges." She put a finger to her cheek and pretended to think. "Oh, which colleges were those again?"

Trixie reached behind her and grabbed the pillow out from underneath her head and threw it at Honey. Instant bedlam took over as Diana rolled away from Trixie and grabbed a pillow while Honey joined in the fray. Squeals and giggles filled the room as they whacked each other with the pillows.

The connecting door opened and Dan leaned against the doorframe with a wide grin on his face. "Mmm…so tell me, ladies…are you going to be on those Wild Girls tapes they show of all those college girls on spring break?" He jokingly reached for his wallet. "Let me get that number down so I can order a copy."

Diana blew a long strand of dark hair out of her eyes and raised her eyebrows superciliously. "You wish, Mangan."

His grin just grew wider. Jim walked up behind Dan, pushing him slightly forward into the girls’ room. "Ah, pillow fights," he said with a twinkle in his green eyes. "One of my very most favorite college activities."

Brian entered behind Jim, shaking his head. "One of those things you have to give up now, Frayne." He winked. "You’re an old academic man now. I hear that those Master’s degree students don’t participate in pillow fights."

His friend raised a sandy eyebrow. "What kind of school do you attend, old man? I only hit twenty a couple of weeks ago. I’m not old yet."

Dan snorted. "You both were old before your time. You wouldn’t know what to do with a pillow other than sink your head in it to sleep at nine o’clock at night after you’ve watched the early news."

Brian glanced at Jim. "Something tells me Mangan’s challenging us."

In one fluid motion that Trixie would later describe in admiration, Jim leaned down and grabbed Honey and Di’s pillows, tossing one to Brian, and the two of them immediately attacked Dan, thumping him with the full force of their strength.

"Belden!" hollered Dan. "I need some help in here!"

Mart stuck his head around the door in inquiry, pulling it back just as quickly to avoid an inadvertent whack from Brian’s pillow. He scuttled back into their room, grabbing pillows and came running back in to join in the fray.

After several minutes and several feathers later, the girls, who had been pulled into the fight, dropped wearily to their beds with giggles.

"Truce, pax!" yelled Mart, holding up his hands in surrender.

Dan chuckled, settling wearily into a chair near the window. "What now?" He grinned at Jim who had sunk, predictably, on to the bed next to Trixie.

"I vote for food," Mart said firmly.

Brian rolled his eyes. "You always vote for food."

"Well," Di added. "I must admit I’m pretty hungry. All that combat takes a lot out of a girl, you know." She looked down at her nails with a self-deprecating smile. "I have to keep my strength up."

"Don’t be worried about that, Di," Jim said ruefully. "I think that strength of yours may have succeeded in giving me bruises. What do you have in that pillow, rocks?"

Trixie pushed against Jim slightly with a giggle. "You’re just sore ‘cause she bested you."

Jim opened his mouth to instantly protest, but Honey slid in a comment before he could do so. "Well, I’m famished myself. None of us have eaten anything except some of Mart’s pretzels since we left Reedsburg!" She looked around at the others. "Shall we get cleaned up and go searching for a restaurant?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Dan said, rising to his feet. "We’ll meet you girls downstairs in say…fifteen minutes?"

Di and Honey both looked at him as if he’d grown another head. "I need a shower!" Di exclaimed.

Honey nodded her agreement, pulling taut a fistful of her long, golden hair. "Do you realize how long it takes to blow dry this?"

Jim grinned. "Okay…we’ll give you all an hour. We men will find something to while away the time while we wait."

 

Sometime later…

Trixie came down to the lobby of the hotel, smoothing her denim shorts, automatically scanning the room for a tall redhead. Not seeing him or, for that matter, any of the guys, she frowned and shrugged. Instead, she ventured over to the front desk, hoping to get some information on local restaurants when she spotted a petite blonde with long, straight shiny hair and a wide smile negotiating with the bellhop. Why does she look so familiar? Trixie inched a little closer, grabbing the Chicago Magazine nestled on top of a stack of brochures touting local sightseeing places.

"Thank you so much for your help. It seems like it’s taking a lot more effort to get set up at the festival than I thought it would." The blonde girl handed the bellhop a large portfolio briefcase.

"It sure will be a wonderful thing to see your work there, Miss Dickinson. I know it’s one of the highlights of the festival."

The blonde smiled at him. "You’re so sweet." She patted the portfolio. "Keep an eye on this for me, will you?" She turned on her heel, her elegant skirt wrapping winsomely around her legs, and headed out the revolving door to the street.

Trixie dropped the magazine back on the desk and walked determinedly up to the bellhop who had slipped a tag around the portfolio, placing it with the other bags he had situated on his cart. "Excuse me," Trixie said with a dazzling smile. "I couldn’t help but overhear. Is there a local festival going on?" She gestured vaguely toward the hallway to the elevators. "I’m here with my brothers and our friends from New York and we love those outdoor festivals and I was just thinking it would be the very thing to do while we’re visiting." She tilted her head and tried to remember what Honey and Di had coached her about in the art of flirtation, but found that she couldn’t remember anything. With a sigh, she just pushed her blonde curls off her forehead and plunged forward, hoping that his interest in girls with blonde hair extended to girls with blonde curly hair.

The bellhop gave her a friendly grin as he placed more bags on his cart. "Are you an art fan?"

"An art fan?" Trixie hesitated, remembering trips to the Metropolitan Museum of Art that had been excruciatingly boring, especially when she had accompanied Di and listened to her rapturous comments on da Vinci’s Studies for a Nativity that she spent hours pouring over each time she went to the museum. She managed a bright smile. "Oh, yes. A very big art fan."

"The Around the Coyote Festival is just the thing for a true art fan," he said with a smile. "Artists from all over the Chicagoland area bring their artwork to display." He tagged another bag as he talked to her. "I think it’s a lot more interesting to see artwork by artists that are still alive to tell you about it, you know?

"True," Trixie said slowly, nodding. "I hadn’t thought about it that way before."

"And there’s a little something for everyone. Paintings, murals, sculpture, photography, dance, music…" He straightened and ran a hand through his dark hair. "You’d enjoy it."

"I’m sure I would," Trixie said with enthusiasm. Casually, she brushed back a blonde curl and gestured toward the portfolio. "The woman who was here…is she exhibiting?"

He nodded. "She is and that’s something in and of itself. Lizzie Dickinson rarely exhibits her own work any more. She owns an art studio on the North Side and now spends most of her time showcasing other people’s artwork. Miss Dickinson is always looking for new talent. In fact, she just got back from Santa Fe. She’d heard of a couple of good artists down there that she was interested in giving a show to."

"You don’t say!" Trixie said with a wide smile.

The bellhop pushed his cart forward a bit and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "My boss is watching me. I really ought to get working." He gestured over to the front desk. "There’s a brochure there on the festival. Her gallery is the Dickinson Gallery. Pick one up." His dark eyes roamed her figure appreciatively. "I’d be glad to take you on a personal tour if you like. I…" His voice trailed off.

Trixie followed his gaze and looked up in surprise to see Jim standing close behind her, his arm coming around her shoulders in a definitely possessive gesture. He glanced at the bellhop and raised a sandy eyebrow in a slight challenge before his gaze turned to Trixie. "What’s going on, Trix? Everyone’s waiting to go to dinner."

"Oh, I was talking to…" She glanced quickly at the other man’s nametag. "Jonathon about an art festival up on the north side of the city. It sounds very interesting. We ought to go."

Jonathon smiled ruefully at Jim. "It is a great festival and you ought to check it out." He nodded briefly. "I really do have to get back to work." He pushed the cart around them and toward the elevators.

A smile curved Trixie’s lips as she watched Jim’s very determined glare boring into the back of the disappearing Jonathon. She stole an arm around his waist and said softly, "Hmmm…wouldn’t be jealous, would we?"

"What?" Jim looked down at her, startled. "Jealous? You must be joking. I don’t…"

She leaned her head back against the arm around her shoulders. "Then what’s with this arm around my shoulders?"

He shrugged and squeezed her shoulder with a freckled hand. "Can’t I put my arm around you if I want to?"

She shook her head, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "Any time you want to is okay with me." Trixie fell silent, unable to say anything more without giggling.

Jim shifted uncomfortably, letting his arm drop down to grab her hand instead. "Trixie, I…"

Trixie leaned back her head and gave him a sweet, innocent smile and batted her eyelashes. "Oh, you big, strong protective man, you!"

He snorted in response. "Give it a rest, will you? Okay, okay. So, the guy was being a little friendlier than I would have liked him to be. Give a guy a break, will you?" He glanced at the bellhop desk briefly before turning back to Trixie. "So, what was all this talk about art about?"

Her blue eyes gleamed. "I saw a woman talking to him just a little bit ago. She looked very familiar…"

Jim groaned. "Don’t say mysterious. Please, Trixie. Don’t say it." His grip on her hand tightened. "I’m still recuperating from three major spy operations in one trip, not to mention getting mauled in the Australian customs as a practical joke and Mart getting mugged by some girl in…"

Trixie stopped still and exclaimed, "That’s it!"

"That’s what?" demanded Jim.

"The woman! It was Liz! That girl we picked up who ditched us!" She thumped his arm in excitement. "Her name is Lizzie Dickinson and she owns a gallery right here in Chicago! Jonathon said that she had just returned from Santa Fe!"

Jim shook his head, looking at her doubtfully. "Are you sure, Trixie? Why would she steal Mart’s wallet if she was the owner of some successful art gallery?"

"That’s what we need to find out," Trixie said in determination. She steered Jim over to Brian and Diana who were looking over a shelving unit full of brochures. Diana had pulled out a brochure on the Around the Coyote art festival, which Trixie grabbed out of her friend’s hand.

"Hey!" Diana protested. "I was looking at that!"

"I’m sorry! I just wanted to check something. I’ll give it back," Trixie said hurriedly, looking over the brochure as she did so.

"What’s going on?" demanded Brian. He had several brochures in hand and had been looking at them with Di while Dan, Mart, and Honey had meandered over to the front desk, asking the concierge for restaurant suggestions.

"Trixie’s found another mystery," said Jim with a sigh.

Brian immediately groaned.

Trixie looked up at Jim with a glare. "It’s not really a mystery," she said, hesitating. "It’s more…"

"More…what?" Di asked.

"I think I saw Liz. The hitchhiking girl who disappeared on us," Trixie finished, closing the brochure and gesturing with it. "She’s got an art gallery here in Chicago and is exhibiting work for this festival."

"So?" Brian said with a shrug. "Even if it is her, Trix, we got Mart’s wallet back. She doesn’t owe us an explanation for why she decided to go to Santa Fe instead. Can’t we let it be?"

Trixie’s face set in a very familiar stubborn look. Di rushed in to soothe troubled feathers. "Well," she said, taking the brochure from Trixie’s hand. "I like artistic things. I was going to suggest going to the Art Institute, but maybe we can take a side trip to this art festival instead?"

Jim and Brian exchanged glances, neither wanting to verbalize their true feelings about their opinions of spending time at an art festival. "Well," Jim said finally, "I guess we should figure out what all everyone wants to do."

"We can divvy up," Trixie said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Di, Honey and I can take the car up north to go see this art festival and you boys can do something manly."

"That’s what I like to hear," Dan quipped, leaning in and grinning. "What manly thing are we doing?"

Trixie glanced at Honey and Mart who had followed Dan back to the group, all three looking at Trixie in inquiry. "Well, Di and I would like to see this art festival up north. Jim and Brian are distinctly unenthusiastic. I thought maybe tomorrow morning, we girls could split up from you guys and then meet back for a late lunch somewhere?"

"Sounds good to me," Honey said with a smile at Di.

Mart, on the other hand, was immediately suspicious. "You’re volunteering to go to an art festival? What gives? I thought the last time you were in the Met, you called a Monet a Manet and nearly knocked over an Egyptian statue in your hurry to find the exit."

Trixie’s cheeks flamed red and her blue eyes narrowed. "What? I’m so selfish I can’t do something that Di wants to do?"

Brian shook his head. "No one’s saying you’re selfish, Trixie."

"But seriously, Trix," Jim said with a grin, "don’t tell us you’re going out of the sincere goodness of your heart, not with the pull of that mystery you just found."

Dan, Mart and Honey all looked at Trixie in surprise. "Mystery?" demanded Dan.

"What did you find, Trixie?" Honey asked eagerly.

Mart slapped his hand to his forehead. "Please do not tell me we’ve been followed yet again by some sort of criminal spy. I’m still cleaning mustard out of my ears from our last altercation."

"That’s just wax build-up," Trixie retorted. "And no, it’s not any criminal spy or anything like that."

Di’s violet eyes lit with amusement and she put a placating hand on Trixie’s tensed arm. "Trixie thinks she saw that hitchhiker we picked up in Arizona. Liz something or other. Anyway, the person she saw has an art gallery that’s involved in this festival and her name really is Liz, so we thought we’d go poke around and see the festival and maybe see her gallery."

"That’s it, nothing more," Trixie said, spreading her hands expressively.

"Yeah, right." Mart rolled his eyes. "Nothing with you is ever that simple."

Dan’s dark eyes twinkled as he squeezed Trixie’s arm. "You girls go have fun. Jim will have his cell phone if you need us to come identify any random CIA agents."

Before Trixie could retort back to him, Honey slipped her arm through Dan’s and pulled him ahead of the others. "Can we put aside this mystery for now? I’m starving."

Willingly diverted, Jim placed a hand on Trixie’s lower back, steering her to follow the others. "Did we find a good place to eat?"

"It’ll be scrumptious!" Mart said, closing his eyes with a wide smile. "It’s called the Italian Village. It’s supposed to be wonderful!"

"Sounds good to me!" Brian agreed.

Di nodded. "I’m so hungry that even a slapped together peanut butter and jelly sandwich sounds good at this point."

"I don’t think we’ll have to settle for slapped together sandwiches, Di," Dan said with a chuckle. "Not if this place is as good as the concierge said it was."

A few hours later, Mart leaned back against his chair and sighed happily. Honey smiled at him, taking the last bite of her tiramisu with every evidence of great delight. "It really was as good as he said it was."

Di chimed in her assent, saying, "I love the atmosphere too! All the little sparkling lights and we get our own private hacienda!"

"It is pretty terrific, I must say," Brian agreed

Trixie leaned back in her chair, mimicking Mart’s actions. Her face softened as she looked around the dimly lit dining room. The quaint old wall paintings of an Italian village, combined with the designed little buildings and alcoves that hid elegantly covered tables, seemed like just the perfect place to have dinner. A smile curved her lips as she remembered Dan and Mart’s instantaneous bug-eyes when the waiter had asked for their drink order in a husky Italian voice they’d only ever heard in the Godfather movies. For the rest of the evening, Honey and Di had alternated kicking them with harsh shushes, trying to keep them from saying every piece of conversation in muttered, low, Italian sounding tones, especially in front of the waiter.

Brian took a last sip of his cappuccino and grinned at the others. "The night is still young. What do we do now?"

Jim groaned and shifted in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "I need to walk off some of this pasta. Who knew anyone could get so full from a piece of lasagna?"

"Well, I say we walk over to the Sears Tower," Trixie said, her blue eyes lighting with enthusiasm. "The guard there said that it’s less crowded at night. And it’s been so clear outside, we might be able to see for miles!"

"I guess there are some benefits to miles and miles of flat land and corn, huh, Trixie?" Diana teased.

"I’ll say!" agreed Mart. "I love New York, but there’s something neat about being able to gaze for miles and not have one hill to break your view."

Honey leaned over and squeezed his arm. "It’s that farmer in you."

He grinned at her. "Maybe so, maybe so."

"Shall we go then?" Dan asked, looking around the table in inquiry.

"Definitely!" said Trixie, scraping back her chair. "We have so much to do and we haven’t even begun to see all the important stuff yet!"

They walked the few blocks from the restaurant, teasing and joking as Mart pulled out his ever-present handy map. Armed with the map and some jumbled instructions from three giggling women who they’d come across laughing about revolving doors, they arrived at the dark building that jutted proudly into the dark midnight blue of the sky.

They filed in after a few stragglers and the girls set their purses and Mart his backpack on the conveyor belt as they walked through the metal detector. Trixie felt a slight pang as she picked up her purse on the other side, realizing yet again how susceptible these beautiful skyscrapers really were.

As she slung her purse over her shoulder, she felt a gentle arm around her and looked up to see Jim’s softened gaze upon her.

"I miss them too," he whispered and squeezed her shoulder in a way that comforted her soul and put a tremulous smile on her face. He always knows what I’m thinking.

The slightly melancholy mood stayed with her as she roamed through the exhibits about Chicago, showcasing its famous fire and the destruction and devastation the 1871 incident had caused the city.

Trixie couldn’t stay wistful long, however, not when Mart and Dan had started one of their infamous teasing arguments about what building really was the tallest in the world. Mart was very vociferously advocating the Petronas Towers in Malaysia and Dan was gesturing at the screen in the elevator and agreeing with the animated figures that the Sears Tower dominated the tallest building in the world market. A couple from Montreal also in the elevator jumped into the fray, insisting that the CN Tower in Toronto, Ontario was the tallest.

Trixie giggled as she accepted a piece of gum from Di who was passing them out to help with the ear-popping effect. She whispered to her dark-haired friend, "Should I put in a plug for the Manor House? I think it’s the tallest structure on Glen Road."

Di chuckled and whispered back, "If you take the Manor House, you must let me have Reddy’s dog house. I know that’s got to be the tallest dog house in Sleepyside."

The two girls went off into gales of laughter which prompted Honey to turn around and hiss, "Fill me in when we get off this elevator!"

Trixie and Di nodded before they burst into another round of giggles.

When they’d finally reached the top, they filed out past the waiting line of people waiting to return to the ground floor. Trixie glanced over the group as she passed them and suddenly came to a halt, forcing Brian to slam into her from behind.

"Trixie! What are you doing?" he demanded in an irritated voice.

She grabbed his arm and turned him around. "Look!" she whispered urgently.

Obediently, Brian turned around, getting a glimpse of several people making their way on to the elevator. After watching the people file on, he turned back to Trixie with a disgusted look. "What was so all fired important about looking at those people? Did you see Elvis Presley or something?"

"No, Brian! It was her. Liz!"

"The hitchhiker," Brian said, rolling his eyes. "Trixie…haven’t we had enough mystery on this trip…even for you?" He shook his head and muttering under his breath, followed the others to go look out the windows at the overview of the city.

 

Why does no one ever believe me? Trixie thought despondently to herself. She walked slowly into the square that made up the inside observation deck where Honey and Di stood waiting for her.

Each girl grabbed one of Trixie’s arms impatiently. "You weren’t joking, were you, Trixie?" demanded Diana.

"I just saw her get on the elevator!" exclaimed Honey. "With some really good looking guy hanging on her every word!"

"You saw her?" Trixie demanded, looking back and forth between her friends.

They both nodded. "You couldn’t have missed her!" Di said emphatically.

"What I want to know is why was she pretending to be down and out? Why did she steal Mart’s wallet in the first place?" Honey asked, a frown etching her tanned forehead. "I mean, Mart doesn’t look like he’d carry around wads of cash. He’s only nineteen, for heaven’s sake!"

"That’s exactly what I was thinking," Trixie agreed. She glanced around the observation deck, noting Jim and Brian joking with Dan and Mart and taking pictures of each other, hanging from a false front of the Sears Tower. "And I think it’s even more important that we go to that art festival tomorrow!"

Diana sighed a little ruefully. "Well, I’m game to go, but I am kind of disappointed about the Art Institute. They have that beautiful Sunday in the Park impressionistic painting by Georges Seurat, not to mention the American Gothic!"

Trixie squeezed Di’s hand. "We’ll make it there. I promise. We’ll just go to the festival early and tell the guys we’ll meet them on the steps of the Art Institute. I think even Brian and Jim might be interested in seeing the American Gothic."

Di smiled gratefully as Honey gasped, "Oh, look! They’re setting off fireworks!"

Within a few moments, the Bob-Whites were all crushed together around the window, gazing at the multi-colored bursts of light reflecting off the waters of Lake Michigan.

Dan summed up how they all felt as the fireworks ended and they headed with the large crowd of people for the elevator. "Fireworks on top of the Sears Tower to end our day. How much more perfectly perfect can you get?"

 

The next morning…

Trixie ran an impatient brush through her unruly damp curls, scrunching up her nose at her reflection in the mirror over the low dresser in the room. Di came out of the bathroom, her long dark hair French braided and her violet eyes glowing with excitement. "Oh, Trixie, I can’t wait to see this art festival! I wonder what kind of art Lizzie Dickinson sells?" She sat on the corner of the bed next to Trixie and stuck her long, tanned legs out in front of her, staring at her little white Keds. "I wish I was good enough to participate in a festival like this," she said ruefully.

"Of course you are!" said Trixie loyally. "That last piece you did for Mr. Van Dyck’s Senior Art Fair was beautiful!"

Di smiled at her. "Thanks, Trix."

Both girls turned their heads toward the connecting door in response to the rapping of a distinct knock.

"Are you decent?" demanded Mart from behind the door.

"Honey’s in the bathroom, but she’s just doing her hair," Di replied. "We’re decent."

Mart opened the door and tossed them the set of car keys. "I trust you remember where the car is parked. The ticket is on the dashboard. You’ll have to pay the man when you leave and get a new ticket when you come back."

"I think we can figure that out, thank you very much," said Trixie with a roll of her eyes.

"Where are you guys off to?" Di asked.

"Jim has suckered us into the architectural boat tour that runs along the Chicago River," Mart said with a grin. "We all complained mightily for about five seconds until Jim pointed out all the cool sights we’d see and also calmly explained about how you would draw and quarter us if we even made an attempt to go to Wrigley Field without you."

"You’d better believe it!" said Trixie emphatically.

"Awful nice to have an advocate, isn’t it?" Di said slyly.

Trixie’s cheeks tinged pink as she pushed Di backward on the bed. "Just you shush."

Mart ignored both comments for once and merely continued, "Brian’s idea was vetoed…or rather postponed…again on the grounds that a weird twosome we happen to know might vehemently object if we left them out of it."

"And what might that be?" inquired Honey, coming out of the bathroom, looking fresh and pretty in denim shorts and a golden t-shirt.

"The gangster tour," Mart said solemnly.

"The what?" demanded Di.

"The gangster tour. It’s a bus tour that takes you to all the hot spots of Chicago’s underworld. I think they even stop so you can see the sight of the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre."

Di shuddered. "Gross!"

Trixie’s eyes lit up. "Cool! Are we going to do that tomorrow?"

Mart grinned. "Maybe. Dan didn’t seem incredibly enthusiastic about it. Kept making comments about how he knew all about the underworld in New York and wasn’t interested in furthering his acquaintance with the underworld in Chicago."

"Well, maybe Dan and Di can do something together that would be a more…um…palatable option for them," Honey said with a warm smile.

"So, the Art Institute. At one o’clock," Trixie interrupted, looking at Mart in inquiry. "You’ll meet us in front, right?"

Mart snapped his heels together and saluted her. "Aye, aye, Madam Co-President." He grinned before closing the connecting door. "Have fun and stay out of trouble!"

"Not much chance of that happening, girls, is there?" Di said with a grin.

"Trouble? Us?" said Honey, her hazel eyes wide and innocent.

"Good heavens!" Trixie said, clutching her blue t-shirt with a gasp. "We’d never do anything like that."

Di let out a very unladylike snort and the three girls burst into giggles. Trixie jumped to her feet and pulled Di up to a standing position. "Come on!" she said impatiently. "Time’s a wastin’!"

After the production of retrieving their car from the valet parking at the hotel, Trixie was reluctantly talked into driving the car while Honey sat next to her in the front seat, studying the map and directing her to make turns. Di stared out the window, admiring the lake, the buildings, and the people and chattering away, keeping a running commentary going on about what she saw.

Trixie pulled into a jammed little street, trying to spot a parking space close to one of the many art galleries that peppered the block. People walked up and down the street, going in and out of various open galleries. Di stared open mouthed at one woman who stood in front of a gallery in a dress made entirely of paint samples.

Honey chuckled at Di’s expression. "You know, seeing as how we’re from New York, none of this should surprise us."

Trixie giggled as she finally found a parking space and attempted her very best version of parallel parking. "We’re from a small town in rural New York, Honey, not New York City."

"That’s right," declared Di firmly. "Besides, we’re tourists. We’re supposed to gape at everything. It’s the law."

The three women strolled down the street, Di looking in earnest at the various artwork displayed. Honey was willing enough to be pulled into various galleries, but it took nearly all of Trixie’s patience to not insist that they go immediately to the Dickinson Gallery at the end of the block.

After Di had purchased a couple of prints to be sent back to Sleepyside and Honey had been struck by some beautiful photographs that she had to buy, Trixie was about to tear her hair out in impatience until she noticed a stand in front of one of the galleries on the block. Handcrafted delicate Irish wedding bands and Celtic rings in different sizes and different metals covered the table.

Fascinated, Trixie stepped closer, looking at the various bands in interest. The glint of a silver ring caught her eye and she picked up the band with its woven threads in curiosity.

"That’s one of my favorites," the woman behind the table said softly.

Trixie looked up at the dark-haired woman and smiled. "It sure is beautiful." She picked up the ring and turned it slowly between her fingers. Wistfully, she placed it back on the foam lining. "Too large for my fingers," she said with a sigh.

With the skill of a long time salesman, the woman said with a slow smile, "A boyfriend perhaps? Husband?"

She looked up at her in surprise, a thoughtful look crossing her eyes. Trixie glanced at the ring again and tried to picture it on a certain set of freckled hands. Finally, a slight tinge of pink flushed her cheeks and she grabbed the ring and asked huskily, "How much?"

 

A little while later…

Di and Honey caught up with Trixie who had moved on to look at some silk scarves at another booth a little further down the street. Di’s eyes immediately noticed the small bag sticking out of Trixie’s purse. "What did you buy?"

Trixie flushed and tucked the bag a little more firmly in her purse. "Oh, nothing much. Just a little something I thought maybe Jim would like."

Di and Honey exchanged knowing glances, but cheerfully dropped the subject. Honey put her arm through Trixie’s and said, "Well, Di and I have spent way more than we should have, so we’re ready to go find your gallery."

"Good!" Trixie said firmly. "We don’t have a lot of time until we have to meet the guys back at the Art Institute and it sure took me forever to drive up here. Who knows how long it’ll take me to drive back?"

Di pulled the festival brochure out of her bulging purse and ran a long slender finger down the list of participating galleries. She glanced up at the gallery they were standing in front of, looking for the address. "I think it should be in this block. This one says 828 and I think the address was 846?"

After walking a little ways, they found the gallery…an old, elegant building with exterior moldings and a large picture window. The few stone steps up to the door had a constant flow of very stylish, fashionable looking people coming in and going out. Trixie looked down at her denim shorts, which had at least been clean when she started out in the morning, but now seemed rather wrinkled in comparison to the light khaki pants and polo shirts of some of the exiting patrons. Her shirt hadn’t fared much better. She tugged on a blonde curl, biting her lower lip. "I look like a mess compared to all these people," she whispered to the other girls. "We’re going to stand out like sore thumbs."

Di waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, no, Trixie. You look fine."

Honey smiled sympathetically. "They do seem rather imposing, don’t they? But there are lots of folks in there with jeans and shorts." She squeezed Trixie’s arm. "And we’re dressed just like you are, so if we stand out, we’ll stand out together."

The three girls politely threaded their way through the hordes of people, entering the gallery. Trixie looked around in a rather impatient way, but didn’t see Liz Dickinson in the gallery anywhere. As Honey and Di walked toward a woman who had designed different kinds of unique clothes, Trixie meandered over to a well-populated corner of the gallery with large, bold oil paintings of women in all different shapes and sizes. She stared for a few minutes at a painting of three women in elegant evening gowns before she felt a tap on her shoulder. Startled, she turned around to see a young woman in her late twenties about her height with a mass of reddish brown curls and a wide, friendly grin. "You like my bells?"

"Your bells?"

"Yes, my bells," the woman laughed. "I did a little play on words there. You could say they’re southern belles, but I made their dresses to look kinda like bells."

"It’s really quite beautiful," Trixie said with a smile. She gestured at the painting. "It must take a lot of work to do something so large!"

The woman shrugged. "A week or two. It depends on whether or not I get caught up in the design." She winked at Trixie. "Or if my beagle will let me paint."

"I can sympathize with you about the dog. Our Irish setter is constantly distracting us from doing things we’re supposed to." Trixie laughed and stuck out her hand. "I’m Trixie Belden. I’m just visiting from New York. To be truthful, I was looking for the owner of the gallery. I think…well, we think she might be someone we ran into on our trip and we just wanted to say hello."

"I’m Elizabeth Sandine," the other woman said with a smile, shaking Trixie’s hand with a firm grip. She looked over her shoulder toward the offices behind the gallery. "I haven’t seen Lizzie today. She’s got a decorating business that she works with half time, so she’s often at those offices down on Michigan Avenue near the Art Institute." She smiled regretfully. "I’m sorry you might miss her." She gestured with a light hand around the room. "But definitely enjoy the festival! There are so many interesting things to see and do!"

"Thanks, I will," Trixie said with a smile.

As Elizabeth turned back to greet another admirer, Trixie looked at the office behind the gallery in speculation. Maybe she’s back there working. With several murmured "excuse mes", she made her way back to the rear of the gallery where a curtain separated the gallery from the back rooms. Looking around quickly, she darted around the curtain and found herself in a small room with a plain desk and a little kitchenette with a microwave and a mini-refrigerator. The room, however, was empty. A stack of folders in a neatly arranged holder offered no clues as Trixie thumbed through their labels. Each one appeared to be information about different openings for different artists. Investigation of the kitchenette found that Lizzie liked Starbucks coffee and rarely used her refrigerator.

With a sigh, she turned on her heel to go back into the gallery when she heard a couple of voices near the curtain.

"Does she have any idea what she’s doing?" snapped a man with a deep rumbling voice.

"You would think so," said a higher pitched woman’s voice. "But then again, you pull an innocent into these games and what do you get? A chronically guilty conscience."

"Well, Miss Dickinson just better cough up what’s mine. I didn’t pay for a trip to

Santa Fe for nothing."

Trixie risked a peek around the curtain and noticed a tall, heavy-set man whose dark, black eyebrows were narrowed angrily over his dark, turbulent eyes. His harsh, angular face instantly reminded Trixie of old pictures she’d seen of Native Americans from history books. His jet-black hair was cropped short and only emphasized the stark lines of his face.

His companion was a non-descript looking woman with a mousy brown bob that had a bit of a wave to it. Her pale face and little round glasses as well as a slightly dumpy figure made her instantly forgettable.

They broke away from each other and blended back into the crowd. Trixie darted around the curtain again, looking after the couple thoughtfully. What in the world is going on?

She found Di and Honey a few minutes later and they confirmed what she’d already guessed…that Lizzie was nowhere to be found. Trixie mentioned the office Elizabeth had told her about on Michigan Avenue and the other girls agreed that they would stop there before meeting the guys on the steps of the Art Institute.

 

Meanwhile…

Jim was the last to exit the boat at its dock, holding open the gate for an elderly couple who smiled at him gratefully.

"Don’t forget the Water Tower, son," the man said to Jim. "One of the only buildings to survive the Chicago fire!"

The woman grinned at him. "I know we can’t compare with some of those old buildings out east, but we’re pretty proud of our city."

"After seeing all the beautiful architecture you have here in Chicago, I think this city can definitely give any other a run for its money," Jim said with a smile.

The elderly couple waved as Jim joined his friends. Mart grinned at him. "Jim Frayne, the eternal Boy Scout, ever diligent to little old couples, stray dogs…"

"And Girl Scouts?" Dan added with a sly wink.

Jim pushed Mart lightly and rolled his eyes. "Why do I put up with you two?"

"Our charm," Mart answered immediately.

"Our good looks," Dan added. "How else would you get any dates?"

Brian chuckled as he herded them toward the sidewalk. "Have either of you recalled the fact that Jim has been seen often in the company with a blonde you’re familiar with?"

Mart snorted. "Does Trixie truly count?"

Jim’s shove was a little harder this time. He raised an eyebrow and said succinctly, "Trixie counts."

Dan glanced at Jim before he quickly changed the subject. "So, speaking of our detective, do you think she’s caught Liz and forced her to tell everything she knows?"

Brian laughed. "If anyone could, it would be Trixie." He shook his head. "I still don’t understand what the big deal is. Even if Trixie actually saw Liz and she was the same person we picked up in Arizona, why bother her? She obviously decided tagging along with us wasn’t something she wanted to do. It isn’t a crime not to befriend the Bob-Whites."

Mart slapped a hand to his chest and looked incredulously at Brian. "Everyone befriends us. We’re liked by everyone we meet. Whatever could you be thinking?"

Jim snorted and shook his head. "Would you like me to make a list?"

"No," Dan interrupted. "It’s been such a pleasant morning without any spies shooting at us or undercover drug agents smuggling things into our luggage. Do you think we could savor these few last moments before we hook up with the girls again?"

"I second that motion," Brian said emphatically.

In mutual agreement, the guys ambled down Michigan Avenue, laughing and joking amongst themselves and arrived in a short period of time in front of the grand entrance to the Art Institute, the copper lions guarding its doors in magnificent splendor. Mart was about to suggest a surreptitious climb up on the lions for a quick photographic opportunity, when he saw a petite blonde walking toward them in determination. His jaw sagged and he groaned.

"What?" demanded Dan, following Mart’s gaze. "What’s wrong?"

A few seconds later, the blonde had reached them, her blue eyes anxious and her hands clenched.

"Oh, God," Jim said with a deep sigh.

Liz Dickinson looked at the four young men in front of her and gestured impatiently. "I know you must have a whole list of questions, but I’m not going to answer them," she said frankly. She turned her very intense gaze to Jim and pointed at him. "Tell your girlfriend to stay out of my gallery. I have enough trouble without her poking her nose into my business."

Jim stiffened slightly and his green eyes narrowed. "Last I heard, this was a free country and people were permitted to do as they liked."

"Don’t pull that crap on me," Liz snapped at him. "I’d wager you money that Trixie has no more interest in art than I do in the opera." Her blue eyes flashed. "And she has no business snooping around my offices. Tell her to stay away from me. Understand?"

With that, Liz turned on her heel and stormed back down the street.

Jim rubbed a hand down the back of his neck, looking at the other three in quiet inquiry. Brian finally groaned and leaned back against the base of the copper lion. "And I thought we were done with this mystery stuff."

Mart snorted, a slow grin spreading across his face. "The only time you’ll be done with mysteries, dear brother, is when they lower your coffin into the ground."

A few moments later, a horn sounded and Di leaned out the window, waving. "Hey, little boys, wanna make a movie?"

Dan grinned and walked over to the car, a leer on his thin face. "What kind of part do I get to play?"

"Janitor Number One," retorted Trixie. "I’ve got a mop in the back."

Honey rested her arm on the windowsill and smiled at the guys who clustered around the car. "So, what’s the verdict? Di would still like to go to the Art Institute and see a few of the paintings there. We’ll need to park, though."

"Well," Brian said with a glance at the others. "Why don’t you go and park in the garage on the next street? We can go into the museum and look around for a bit and then maybe grab some hamburgers and go sit out in the park and have a picnic? Something tells me we need to confer."

Brian’s plan was quickly agreed upon. The girls returned after parking the car and the seven rapidly toured the highlights of the museum, ending soon after Mart started to complain of hunger pains.

They left the museum, bought some burgers and soon found themselves sitting on the grass in the middle of Grant Park, using the blanket that Honey had grabbed from the back of the station wagon before returning to the museum.

Jim chewed on his hamburger for a few moments before he swallowed and said with a sigh, "I think we’re back smack dab in a mystery again."

Trixie raised an eyebrow and looked at him in inquiry. "What changed your mind from this morning?"

Jim quickly related Liz’s outburst in front of the museum and her warning about Trixie’s snooping. He shook his head. "How did she know what you were doing?"

"Especially since she was down here on Michigan Avenue and you were up north at her gallery," said Mart grimly. "Did you notice anyone following you?" he asked.

"No," Trixie said. "There were so many people on the street, though, we could have been followed for miles and never noticed."

"We weren’t expecting to be followed either," added Honey with a frown.

"So, what happened while you were at the gallery?" Dan asked.

Trixie told of the overheard conversation, the information Elizabeth had given her and Honey and Di’s quick attempt to check out the decorator offices on Michigan Avenue. "The place was closed up as tight as a drum," Trixie said glumly. "There wasn’t even any point in me parking the car."

Brian rolled his eyes heavenward. "Well, thank God you didn’t get it into your head to try to break in or something." He shook his head. "Liz asked us to stay away, Trixie. And if those two people you overheard have some sort of shady business going, the last thing you need to do is to get involved with them."

"Please," Mart begged. "Leave it be for once? I don’t want to make the acquaintance of the Chicago police, as nice as I’m sure they are."

Trixie glanced at Honey before turning her gaze to Jim. Noting the looks of mute plea on both their faces, she sighed in defeat. "Okay, I’ll let it lie." She wrinkled her nose. "But I don’t like it."

"Duly noted!" Di sang out in relief. She grinned at Trixie before she turned to the others. "Now, what are we doing this afternoon?"

After a heated debate, it was determined that the Museum of Science and Industry was the popular favorite of the remaining famous museums to visit. The Bob-Whites enjoyed their way through the museum’s renowned exhibits of a working coal mine, a German submarine, and even Dan and Mart grudgingly admired the craftsmanship of Colleen Moore’s famous doll house with its very own stained glass chapel, running water, and fairy tale books peppering the small library.

After a successful tour of the museum, they all piled back into the car to head back to the hotel. Brian suggested an evening of room service and relaxation in the hotel pool. Everyone agreed enthusiastically and the marbled room with its deep pool and hot tub had everyone exclaiming --- just before they started in on the slight roughhousing, swimming races, and dunking that were a normal part of a Bob-White swimming party.

During their late dinner, Di and Dan determined that they would spend a lazy morning sleeping in while the others took the famous gangster tour of the city. This was to be followed by an afternoon of Michigan Avenue shopping and a tour of the famed Water Tower before they headed back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep so they could head out early in the morning the following day to start on their way home.

Trixie glanced at Honey and Di who were already drooping wearily. Di climbed into bed and was asleep before her head even hit the pillow. Honey pulled back the covers of her bed and looked over at Trixie. "Do you want to sleep here or with Di? I don’t think either of us cares."

Trixie shrugged slightly. "I’ll bunk in with you." She hesitated a moment "I don’t think I’m quite ready to go to sleep yet. Jim mentioned something about a walk…"

Honey smiled at her friend as she got into bed and tucked the covers under her chin. With a large yawn, she said sleepily, "Have a good time. Take the room key with you."

Trixie waited a few moments until she saw her friend’s eyes close before unwrapping the small bag and sliding the silver ring into her hand. She grabbed the room key from the dresser and headed out to the hallway where Jim leaned against his own door, a crooked smile on his face.

She smiled shyly at him and took his offered hand and the two of them walked down the long, lushly carpeted hallway toward the elevators. As they waited, Jim reached over with his free hand and tugged an errant blonde curl and smiled gently at her. "Penny for your thoughts, Shamus."

Trixie hesitated for a moment, glancing at him nervously, before she uncurled her other hand and opened it to him.

Jim looked at the ring, picking it up with two fingers and inspecting it in the light. "That’s quite a beautiful ring, Trixie. Did you buy it today at the festival?" He handed it back to her, a sandy eyebrow raised in inquiry.

Slowly, she nodded and again offered the ring to him. "I bought it for you," she blurted out all in a rush.

His look of surprise gentled as he took the ring back, testing it on his fingers until it slid over his ring finger on his right hand. He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. "It’s beautiful, Trixie, I love it. Thank you."

Her nervousness vanished as her blue eyes started to sparkle. "You do? Really? It’s not too…um…weird for me to be giving it to you?"

He grinned at her. "Well, since I was giving you diamond rings at thirteen, let’s just say that we don’t do jewelry like everyone else and I like it that way."

She returned his grin, tucking her arm around his, as the elevator doors opened. A few moments later, they were on the main floor, walking toward the lobby. Suddenly, Trixie stiffened and clutched at Jim’s arm. "Jim," she hissed in a low voice. "Look!"

Jim glanced sharply at Trixie before turning to follow her gaze. A rather dumpy looking woman was talking to the concierge, a new bellhop was at his post, and an indolent looking man was seated at one of the couches in the lobby, reading the Chicago Tribune. "What am I looking at?" he whispered back to Trixie.

"That woman!" she exclaimed. "She was one of the two people having that suspicious conversation at Liz’s gallery this morning. What do you suppose she’s doing here?"

Jim’s eyes traveled over the woman, his face growing grim. "I don’t know, Trixie. But whatever she’s doing here, it’s not for something good."

"That’s what I thought," Trixie said, nodding firmly. "First, Liz shows up this morning and now this woman is here. I don’t…" Her voice trailed off as she watched the concierge take the woman over to the bellhop desk. After a few moments of animated conversation and a proffered ticket, the bellhop vanished and returned with a large black portfolio.

"Jim!" she whispered excitedly. "I’ll bet that’s the portfolio that Liz left here this morning. What do you suppose is in it? Maybe it’s a trade-off of some sort."

"I think your mysteryitis must be rubbing off on me," Jim said slowly. "Because all of the sudden, I’m getting an urge to follow her and find out."

Trixie’s eyes widened and she giggled. "Well, then I’ll play the cautious one and say we should be careful so she doesn’t spot us."

His wide grin flashed at her and he winked at her. "We can always duck into a corner and kiss if she turns around and we’re about to get caught."

Trixie’s smile broadened. "You’re on, Frayne."

The woman, as they had suspected, exited the hotel through the revolving doors once she’d retrieved the portfolio from the bellhop. Trixie and Jim sauntered across the lobby and exited out to the street. Trixie couldn’t help but let out a giggle when she saw Jim’s face fall in disappointment as the woman hopped into a cab and took off down Michigan Avenue. She grinned at him. "Disappointed, Detective?"

He glanced down at her, smiling ruefully. "A little. Why I thought she’d walk, I have no clue." Jim brushed away the blonde curls that fell in front of her forehead. "To be honest, I was looking forward to having to pull you into quite a few doorways."

"You would have been extra careful, I’m sure," Trixie teased.

He looked at her for a moment before he took her hand in his again and raised an eyebrow at her. "Want to pretend we’re following someone?"

Her clear laugh echoed through the street as she squeezed his hand in hers. "I can’t think of anything I’d like better."

 

Late the next morning…

Diana stretched her arms over her head, reveling the fact that she didn’t have to move or be anywhere. She’d blissfully ignored Honey and Trixie’s semi-quiet attempts to get ready and had turned right back over to go to sleep after they left the room, giggling.

She glanced at the connecting door and wondered if Dan had awakened. "Hmmm…maybe I can talk him into another swim." She swung her feet over the side of the bed and reached for her lavender robe that was crumpled into a heap on the floor when she heard the click of the door.

"I thought I put a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door," she muttered to herself. Di padded over to the door and peeked out the peephole and bit back a scream. The tall, harsh looking man from the gallery looked furtively up and down the hallway before pulling out an electronic device from his pocket, placing it over the door lock.

Panicking, Di grabbed her purse and pulled open the connecting door and whisked open the adjoining door to the guys’ room. "Dan," she hissed. "Dan!"

Dan muttered something low in his throat and pulled his pillow over his head. Di closed the door behind her and rushed over to the bed, shaking one of his muscled shoulders. "Wake up!" she said in anguished tones. "Please, dear God, wake up!"

He rolled over with a groan and opened one eye. "Di? What in the world?"

"There’s someone breaking into my room!" hissed Diana. "I think it’s that guy Trixie described from the gallery. Oh, what do you think he wants?"

Dan threw off his blanket and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. "Obviously, we must have something he wants," he said grimly. "Did you girls buy something at the gallery yesterday?"

Diana shook her head. "No, Honey and I bought some prints and some photographs at some other galleries that we had shipped home. Trixie bought something for Jim from one of the little road stands. Nothing he’d come after us for."

The sound of dresser drawers being opened and shut echoed through the room. Diana moaned, closing her eyes. "Oh, this is so awful! What are we going to do?"

"Call the front desk and get security up here. That’s what," Dan replied firmly.

"I don’t think that’s a very good idea," said a deep, rumbling voice behind them.

Dan and Diana looked up in shock to see the tall, dark intruder pointing a gun at them.

***

A couple of hours later, the other Bob-Whites returned, shocked to see a police officer standing in front of their hotel room. Trixie burst into the guys’ room, followed closely behind the others, looking around wildly for Dan. "What happened? Where’s Diana? What…" Her voice trailed off as she noticed Diana sitting in a chair by the window, pale and shaken. "Diana?"

Honey made her way over to Diana, smoothing her dark hair away from her face. "Di? What happened? Where’s Dan?"

Diana’s eyes filled with tears. "I tried to stop him," she said, her voice catching on a sob. "But he had a gun and Dan said I shouldn’t, but I just couldn’t let him go like that, could I?"

It was then that Trixie and Honey noticed the dark bruise on Diana’s temple. The girls gasped. "What happened to your face?"

"He knocked me out," Diana said, wiping away the tears from her face. "And when I came to, they were both gone!"

"He kidnapped Dan?" Mart said, shocked.

"Yes!" Diana wailed. "And I couldn’t even make him stop." She gestured wildly. "And now he’s got Dan and he wants his artifacts or he’ll kill him and I don’t even know what he’s talking about!"

Brian had joined the girls and was gently fingering the bruise on her temple, asking Diana simple questions about her head and what hurt. He finally sat back on his heels and shook his head. "You may have a concussion from that, Di." He looked at her grimly. "What did he hit you with?"

"H-h-his gun, I think," said Diana as she took a shuddering breath. "He’d tried to kidnap me first, but Dan wouldn’t let him take me." She grabbed Brian’s hand anxiously. "We’ve got to get him back. We’ve got to!"

"Of course we’re going to get him back," Jim said firmly, his green eyes flashing.

"Did the person give you any hint at all as to who they were?" Trixie demanded.

Di nodded slowly and winced at the movement before she said hoarsely, "Trixie, it was that guy from the gallery. The one you described to us."

Jim scowled angrily at Diana’s words. "What in the world has that woman done to us? First, she sneaks off from us without even so much as a thank you, then she’s warning us away from her in the middle of the street, and now she sends her henchmen to steal artifacts and kidnap people?"

"Artifacts?" Honey asked suddenly. Her hazel eyes widened and she looked at Di intently. "You said something about artifacts. He was asking you about that?"

Di nodded, wiping the tears away from her cheeks.

"There was a newscast about some stolen artifacts when we were in Arizona!" Honey exclaimed in excitement. "I remember telling Trixie and Di about it. Maybe Liz stole those artifacts and these people are looking for them!"

"But why would they think that we had them?" asked Mart. "We weren’t even in Arizona for all that long."

Trixie’s blue eyes sparked with interest. "No, but Liz was with us for several hours in the car. Maybe she hid the artifacts in our stuff before she took off."

"Something tells me that Miss Liz Dickinson has a lot of questions to answer," Jim said grimly.

The police returned to the room at that point and took down notes about Liz Dickinson and her gallery and questioned a tearful Di about the events that had happened as well as Trixie and Jim’s experiences in the gallery, with its owner as well as the portfolio claimed at the bellhop station the night previous. Brian offered a copy of one of his photographs of Dan from earlier in the trip for identification purposes. Armed with this information and Jim and Di’s cell phone numbers, the police left quietly, leaving the six remaining Bob-Whites alone.

As soon as the officers left, Jim flipped through the brochures that littered the top of the dresser in his room before whipping out his cell phone and dialing.

"Who are you calling?" demanded Trixie.

"Liz Dickinson," he said grimly, checking the number against the brochure he had in hand. "She’s going to give me some answers."

The Bob-Whites waited tensely while Jim attempted to make polite chit-chat with someone who appeared to be a secretary or receptionist. After a few moments, he clicked off his cell phone and threw it on the bed in disgust.

"What did they say?" Mart asked.

"Miss Dickinson left this morning for St. Louis," Jim mimicked in polite tones. "She’s due there for an opening tomorrow at her friend’s gallery. Some gallery called Artistic Endeavors." He sank down on the bed, discouraged. "Now what do we do?"

The Bob-Whites fell into a worried silence, no one knowing what to do or say. Finally, Honey said quietly, "What else can we do? We have to wait. We can’t just go off and leave Dan behind!"

The blare of the hotel telephone startled them, interrupting Brian who had just begun to talk. Jim grabbed the telephone, saying in a guarded tone, "Hello?"

"Listen and don’t say a word," said a low female voice on the other end of the line. "If you want to find your friend, you’ll bring those artifacts down to a gallery opening two days from now. It’s at the Artistic Endeavor in downtown St. Louis. Look for your hitchhiking friend and bring the artifacts. You bring what we want; we’ll make sure your friend gets returned to you unharmed. Got it?"

The drone of the dial tone jarred Jim before he could even speak a word. He hung up the phone and looked at the others.

"Well? Who was it? What did they want?" Trixie demanded.

"It looks like we’re going to St. Louis," Jim said quietly. "That was one of the kidnappers. A woman. She said we’re to bring the artifacts to the Artistic Endeavor’s opening in two days and give them to Liz. If we do that, Dan gets returned to us unharmed."

"What artifacts?" asked Brian despairingly. "Wouldn’t we know if we had them? Wouldn’t that guy have found them seeing as how he went through all our luggage?"

Mart looked at his brother speculatively. "Well, we haven’t searched the car yet. Maybe Liz hid the artifacts somewhere in the car."

"Well, wherever they are," Trixie said firmly, "we’ve got to find them and give them back to these people. Dan is more important than any stupid artifacts."

"So, we’re off to St. Louis?" Honey asked, looking around at the others.

Diana rubbed a weary hand across her face and said with another shuddering breath, "I hope we don’t find any more nasty surprises there."

"I just hope there’s a surprise stash of artifacts hidden in the car or Dan’s in a lot of trouble," Jim said grimly.

Continue

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