*all ages

Disclaimer: I think the Bob-Whites have been wanting to skate again since the ice carnival. So I am borrowing the Bob-Whites temporarily so they can have fun on the ice, make some new friends, and resolve some old feelings. Oh yes and solve a mystery, too.

 

Mysteries on Ice

by Laura H.

Prologue

The locker room still looked brand new. The lockers had no dents or nicks in them, the benches were as yet unscarred by carelessly dropped blades, the walls were still clean and shining. The air smelled of fresh paint, as yet lacking the punky smell of sweaty socks and damp towels.

Two figures faced each other across an open locker door, each looking fiercely determined. The shorter of the two glared defiantly, hissing,

“I told you, I am not giving up on this! Something very mysterious is going on!”

“And I keep telling you, this is all coincidence. Dad doesn't seem worried, does he? If there is anything wrong, just leave it up to him. He isn't going to want some teenage detective messing around in his business! I don’t think there is anything wrong anyway!

“Come on! You of all people know he has good reason to be grateful for teenage detectives. God I hate that phrase! It is so corny, it sounds like Scooby Doo. But you, of all people know I am dead serious.” The blond head bobbed emphatically.

“Look, I know you’re serious about becoming a detective, but this is not the time to try and prove yourself. If there is nothing wrong, you’re gonna feel like a fool. Just trust my dad. He didn’t get where he is by letting people sabotage his businesses!”

“Ha!” There was a note of triumph in the voice, “Then you DO think something is up!”

“Arrgh!” The exasperated voice echoed through the locker room. “I didn’t say that, I did not say that!”

“OK, then how do you explain the missing uniforms? What about the weird call for Amelia? And now tonight, we hear that Paul and Angela are thinking of splitting up!

“How do I explain that? Carelessness and coincidence and rumor. I honestly think that’s all there is to it!”

“Fine, I’ll do this by myself! You watch, I’ll find out what’s going on here and I’ll save your dad’s investment, or my name isn’t Robert Belden!”

He turned his back and began stuffing his skates into his duffel.

Jerry Lynch tried to be reasonable.

“Look Bob, I know what this is about and there’s no way Honey Wheeler will give you an internship in her detective agency, she thinks of you as a little kid. The internship is for college students, not seniors in high school. I don’t want your dreams of glory to mess up Skate Connection.”  Jerry Lynch tried to stare down his best friend, but Bob persisted stubbornly.

“Jerry, it’s not the internship. I just  know someone wants Skate Connection to fail. I won’t let that happen! But if I can get Honey Wheeler to realize I have the same talent as Trixie, well, so much the better. Jerry, I promise, I will be discreet. Now are you going to help or am I on my own?”

Jerry heaved a long sigh. “I’ll help, but only because I shudder to think of what your idea of “discreet” could possibly be. Are you sure you don’t want to give the detective idea up?”

Bob laughed. “No way man, and I’ll bet Trixie is sorry she gave up her dream! Imagine her thinking memorizing a bunch of names and dates is more exciting then when she was tracking down criminals! She is, like, a total legend in Sleepyside, tracking down gun runners and kidnappers before she even graduated from high school! And now she’s given up the whole thing to be a teacher and the Bob Whites were all off doing equally boring things! Even Honey just sits in her office and tells her staff what to do.”

“Get real Bob, Honey is not going to give the internship to you! You can stop hoping to impress Amelia with your macho detective stuff.”

Bob slung his duffel over his shoulder and said, a touch too nonchalantly, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“If you are saying Amelia has nothing to do with this you are so lying.”

Bob sat down on the bench and sighed. “Well, Jer, someone has to help her. Her parents are in Denver, her coach only cares about publicizing her as the next Michelle Kwan. Someone needs to, I don’t know...” He looked down embarrassed. “Someone needs to make sure she is happy. She is happy here: she doesn’t want to go back to Delaware. She likes going to public school, she likes Sleepyside”

“She likes her knight in shining hockey gear...” Jerry made smooching noises.

“Shut up! Seriously if this place closes or ol’ Krupke decides this place isn’t being run to suit his majesty, they will be back in Delaware before she can do a double axel!”

Jerry laughed. “It is so funny to hear you throwing around the skating terms.”

Bob laughed ruefully. “I know, I swear I could watch her all day just stroking around the ice.” He shook himself. “And I am not going lose her! So I need my best friend’s help! Are you in?

“Yes, you idiot, I’m in. Too bad Larry is studying in Spain this term, he would love it!”

The two shook hands.

“OK, then here’s the drill. Everyone thinks you and me are dumb hockey jocks. So we act dumb... “

“Oh good, that’ll be easy”

“Ha ha,” Bob said mirthlessly. “ We poke around and try and find those uniforms, we find out who is starting rumors, we trick Mart into...”

The door to the locker burst open, startling them both. Mart Belden poked his blond head in the locker room and yelled,

“Bobby! I am leaving NOW!  If you don’t want to walk home, keep ...!”

Mart paused. Jerry and Bobby’s faces were a study in guilt. Mart was overcome with such a strong feeling of déjà vu, he forgot to finish his sentence.

Bob stared for a second and then said coolly, “There’s no one named Bobby in here. But a legal adult named BOB is ready to leave any time.”

Mart, frowning, said distractedly. “Right, I mean, sorry, Bob. OK then let’s go. You need a ride, Jer?”

“Yeah, thanks, coach.” Jerry mumbled. He and Bob walked past Mart, avoiding his eyes.

Mart, still in the doorway of the locker room stared after them. The Twilight Zone theme song suddenly ran through his mind. “I gotta call Trixie,” he muttered to himself.


Chapter 1

The terminal at JFK was the usual bustle of craziness. Travelers in dark business suits, muumuus, (muumuus in December?) jeans, saris, and sweatsuits mingled in a confused mass. Many were rushing and looking semi panicked, while others were wandered almost aimlessly. Over the babble of voices, the airport public address system reminded all travelers to keep “personal belongings” in their control at all times. The aroma of Starbucks fought with that  of the little popcorn vendor’s wares. A blond young man, sporting the semi-panicked look, was hustling his taller, darker companion away from the tempting popcorn, toward gate F77.

“Mart, calm down! Last time I checked, Trixie was a responsible, 24 year old senior in college.”

“We should have been here a half hour ago!”

“Come on, Mart, how often does a plane land early at JFK? This has gotta be the first time ever. CNN has probably interrupted its regular broadcasting to bring the story to free world.”

Mart didn’t didn’t even crack a smile. He was scanning the thinning crowd at gate F77. “She’s not here! Where’s her cell phone number?”

Dan Mangan leaned against a post and watched his panicked friend, Mart Belden. Mart started fumbling through his pockets. “I have it here somewhere. You’d think she’d know to wait. What if she took a cab or something. It’s just the sort of thing she would do, that impulsive sister of mine! AHA!”  He pulled a crumpled post it note from his pocket with such force, he elbowed a young man who had been trying to walk around him to the Air Canada counter.

“Sorry, gosh, I am sorry,” Mart apologized to the man, about his age, 25, with curly brown hair and an enormous athletic duffel over one shoulder.

“No problem, every airport in the world is a madhouse, eh?”

“Yeah, I think I fit right in then! Anyway, I really am sorry.”

“It’s ok.” replied the young man and he moved off .

Mart started fumbling in his pockets again. Dan was laughing at Mart openly, his gaze on something behind him

“Shut up! Now where’s my cell phone?” Mart growled.

“It is probably back at the car, “ said a mirthful female voice.

Mart whirled and  saw Trixie laughing just as hard as Dan.

She dropped her oversized backpack as he grabbed her in a hug, then passed her on to Dan, who administered his own brotherly hug and rumpled her short blond curls.

“Hi, professor,  you cut your hair? You guys are back to looking like twins again!

Trixie and Mart did look enough alike to be twins. Seeing them side by side after so long, Dan was struck anew by the resemblance a teenage Mart had hoped they would outgrow. Mart had gone back to the crew cut, but his coloring was an exact match for Trixie’s. And Trixie looked, well, she looked beautiful!  She had cut her hair, and her  blond curls now framed her pretty face softly. Her eyes were a clear, sparkling blue. Dan noted she still favored the natural look as far as make up went and her clothes were chosen for comfort first and style second. Although his heart had belonged to a certain vivacious redhead for two years, he still could appreciate Trixie’s unconscious style. He smiled, unable to believe he’d known the Beldens for ten years now.

In turn, Trixie inspected Dan. He was still on the thin side,  but his dark good looks had only improved over the last few years. And he looked happy. Trixie and Honey had not been sure about his girlfriend Jennifer when they had met her; she had seemed awfully frivolous, but Dan had never been so happy, and Jennifer’s quirky humor had fit well into the old Bob-White crowd
after all. 

Next Trixie looked Mart over from crew-cut head to Nike-clad feet. He was looking good, but a tiny bit strained. Her conversation with him the other day had been rather odd. She had been eating microwave popcorn for dinner and going over her notes on the fall of Vicksburg when the phone had interrupted her studying.

Mart had been calling to arrange to pick her up from the airport when she came home for the winter break, but his polysyllabic jokes didn’t fool Trixie. Mart, 11 months older than her, had been the critic, tutor, tormentor, sparring partner, friend and confidant that only an big brother could be. And he was worried about something, she could hear it in his voice. Hoping he wasn’t going to drag out a certain matter of ancient history, she’d  asked,

“Seriously Mart, is something wrong? Are Moms and Dad ok? Bobby? Brian?”

“Geez, Trixie, the old detective instincts just kick right in, don’t they?”

She’d answered, too fast, “No detective instincts, just being a concerned sister. You sound worried.”

Mart had insisted nothing was wrong and went on to discuss arrival times in far more detail than necessary. After she’d said goodbye and hung up, Trixie had stared unseeingly at the map she’d made of Grant’s Vicksburg campaign. Something was up. If he thought he was going to drag her into a mystery, he had another think coming. She was now applying her so-called detective skills to unraveling American history and she was darn good at it. After she got her credential, she would teach at Jim’s school and show the kids history was not just memorizing names and dates. She was showing Jim that she could use her brains for a useful purpose, not for silly dreams that could end up in ...

“Nope, not going there,” she had told herself and had returned to studying Vicksburg.

In the past two days, in between acing  her exams, (YES!) and deciding what to bring  for her two month sojourn in Sleepyside, she had wondered what was up with Mart. Why did she have the distinct feeling  that Mart was trying to tantalize her into playing detective over some contrived or exaggerated “mystery.”  Of all the Bob-Whites, Mart was the only one who had openly disapproved of her change in career choices. Well, if that was what Mart was up to, he would soon be disappointed. She unconsciously set her jaw and gave a small but decided nod.

“So how was the flight? How did you do on your finals? Jim was mad that he couldn’t come too, but he has to administer finals to his own students! Mr. Honorable can’t take a day off! He said he would meet you at the farm as soon as he could get away from grading essays on,  now, let me seem what delightful topic had he devised for the tender minds of the hapless scholars of Catskill Academy? Ah yes, I believe it was a dissertation on our own local favorite, Washington Irving.” Mart could have kicked himself,  he knew he was babbling and that was bound to make Trixie suspicious. In fact, she looked very suspicious but she replied readily enough,

“I aced the finals, Motor Mouth. I knew Jim wouldn’t be able to get away not only did he e-mail me, but you told me so twice, the other day. I haven’t heard from Honey or Di, I can’t wait to see them.”

“They both had stuff they absolutely can’t get out, but they will be home Sunday. They can’t wait to see you either. ” Mart sighed. At least he managed to say one coherent sentence. Emboldened to try for another he said jauntily,

“Let’s head for the car! I still have that old Toyota, but in a few weeks I’ll be Master Chef of the Glen Road Inn and driving a Lexus! We’re in section K4, I actually remembered it! Let’s go!”

“Uh, Mart, what say we go collect Trixie’s luggage first? I have a strong hunch she brought more just than an backpack full of books to spend 2 months at home.” Dan lifted Trixie’s backpack and panted exaggeratedly, “It is books in here, Trixie, right? and not an anvil?”

“My anvil is in the luggage that Mart apparently wants to leave here,” Trixie replied pertly.

“Uh, no, um that was all part of my plan, yeah, that’s it, it is a plan, I will get the car and meet you two, thus cleverly sparing me the effort of lifting your anvil.”  Resigning himself to looking foolish, he pulled the backpack from Dan’s grasp, slung it over his shoulder, staggered exaggeratedly from its weight, and led the way to baggage claim. Maybe it was for the best that Trixie was prepared. After all, Bob was her brother and no matter how she felt about detective work, Mart had the feeling Bob was going to need her help.

As the three moved off, a pair of warm brown eyes followed Trixie’s brisk walk with both appreciation and puzzlement.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Smith,’ the airline clerk was saying, “It seems your bags were among those left in Vancouver, but they are already en route.”

Tempest Smith nodded as she spoke, but his eyes were still on the retreating figure of the blond girl. Why did she look so familiar? Had he met her before? He met too way many people,  but he’d tried to develop a good memory for faces. It was a defense tactic to avoid accusations of being conceited, elitist or rude. No, deciding that he would not have forgotten such a sweet yet determined face, he turned back to the airline clerk, but a smile stayed on his usually serious face.

The clerk leaned closer to him. “I am so sorry this happened! Mr. Smith,” she almost whispered, “I am a big fan of yours, I know I have a lot of nerve, but would you possibly give me your autograph? I think you are the best there ever was!” The clerk’s face was screwed up in a funny expression, half apologetic and half eager.

A little touched, he smiled,  “Thanks, that’s very nice of you,” as he signed the Air Canada notepaper she held out.

“Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed. “I know you’ll win the gold! Oh and your bags will be delivered this evening, thanks for being so understanding. We will get   them to your hotel, if you give me the address,” the clerk continued.

“Thanks, that would be great,” he answered and wrote down the address of the Glen Road Inn on the form she handed him.

As he broke away from the thrilled lady, his gaze sought out the blond girl  for one more look, but she had disappeared into the crowd. Smiling rather wistfully he followed the signs to the car rental counters.

Chapter 2

“Tempest Smith!”

His name echoed through the big, bright lobby. As he turned, a woman hurried  up to him. She was holding a clipboard and, although she appeared to be in her late thirties, her eyeglasses dangled from a chain around her neck like an old time librarian’s.

“You're finally here! I wish you had let me know when your flight was coming in; I would have had someone meet you at the airport! It is just a complete honor to meet you!” she gushed.  “I’m Julie Summers, the director of the Figure Skating program! We are just so thrilled to have you here at Skate Connection!”

Julie held her clipboard against her chest and thrust out her right hand.

“Thank you, it’s really nice to meet you.” Tempest smiled and they shook hands to the musical jingle of her 6 bronze bracelets. Tempest shifted his skater bag higher on his shoulder as she continued to gush,

“I just loved your “7 Years in Tibet” program, I think it is just your best
ever! We are so just excited to have an Olympian training here!” She led him down a bright hallway as she continued speaking coyly, “Of course I know it’s temporary, but if there’s anything we can do to make it permanent, just let me know!” Her laugh was as metallic as her bracelets. In fact, she seemed as unyielding as bronze in spite of her smile and carefully lilting voice. She was a very thin, rather tense looking woman who favored bronze and copper jewelry, perhaps to match her boldly streaked hair. Her tanned face was dominated by her dramatically made up hazel eyes. She wore a blue windbreaker with the Skate Connection logo, but she had jazzed it up with a blue and bronze scarf at her neck.

His smile had not faded at her description of his “best program ever” being one he had skated four years ago; it had been a long time since he had allowed such comments to bother him. Usually people did mean it as a compliment. When they didn't he was adept at shrugging it off. Julie was still talking. He wondered how long it would be before she made a joke about his name.

“Now, I know you are dying to see our ice facilities, they are right this
way. I will just be your tour guide.” Her metallic laugh jangled again and
he laughed politely. They stepped through a set of double glass doors and the skating rink was before them. Tempest breathed in deeply; the smell of the ice always set a thrill down his spine and, for the first time, his smile reached his eyes.

“This is, of course, Olympic size, we have the elite session starting in a
few minutes. Of course, Mr. Lynch asked me to arrange some private time early in the morning, but you may want to skate the elite sessions as well, we will see to it that you have plenty…”

Tempest listened to her with one corner of his mind, while he looked around. Though Ms. Summers didn't appear to realize it, he had been here before. He’d been touring in near New York City and several of the skaters had come here to check out the rink, which was about to open. Mr. Lynch had showed him around personally. The others hadn’t been thrilled with the small town feel of Sleepyside, but Tempest had seen that this facility had been planned with great care and was going to be very skater friendly. He’d also spent a little time on the ice with one of the hockey coaches and been very impressed with both the ice quality and feeling of cooperation between hockey players and figure skaters. So here he was, free for the first time in a long time; away from country, parents, and even friends. Oh yes, and away from  photographers, videographers, reporters, journalists and well meaning but intrusive fans. All alone. He smiled at the thought. It was an exhilarating feeling, intensified by the cold, clear air of the rink.

“...hope we will be offering you smooth sailing, not tempestuous weather,”

He laughed, and because he had a lot of practice, it sounded like he’d never heard this before. Although the jokes did get old, he’d been hearing them all his life and accepted that he always would be hearing about storms, teapots, Shakespeare, etc.

Julie laughed, happy he thought she was funny, then continued, “Now do you want to skate in the session that’s beginning in about 30 minutes, or should I just continue to show you around?

He said hastily, “ Oh I don’t want to take up your time. If you could just
show me the changing rooms, I’ll be all set. I’d love to get a feel for the
ice today, not do a big practice, I just came in from Vancouver a couple of hours ago.”

“I guess that’s why you’re the champ, business before pleasure. Do you have a place to stay? Do you need me to make any arrangements?”

“No thanks, it’s all taken care of, but I appreciate the offer, and everything you have done. Skate Connection really looks great. I guess I all need is for you to show me the changing room!” he smiled. They headed back the way they came as Julie said,

“The locker rooms are back this way. It’s the blue door down there. So,
Tempest, you must be staying in the city then. Since we’re on the south side of town, it’s not that bad a commute, anyway. If you need any recommendations for great restaurants or clubs, just ask me! I love New York! Guess I’m just a city gal at heart! When Mr. Lynch told me you might be training here, I was really surprised. Sleepyside is a nice little town but, well, the name says it!”

She paused by the door she had indicated.

He smiled again and trying to forestall any further hints for information on
where he was staying, he said “Thanks for the tour. Everything really looks fantastic.”

“Yes, this is first class operation, even though it is brand new. It has a
few bugs to work out, of course, nothing for you to worry about, but I must admit I was quite surprised to learn you were going to train here and right before your Nationals, too, and the Olympic are right around the corner. It is very unusual for a skater to change training sites at such a time. But I am sure you had your reasons. I am sure that all that stuff about firing Ed was all blown out of proportion.”

Tempest stiffened a little, though he had been expecting her to raise the
subject, it still made him mad. “Ed is still my coach, I just needed a little
change in scenery. Ed will be paying frequent visits. I couldn’t do without him for long.”

She took the hint, he gave her credit for that. Her smile stayed fixed on her face and “Wonderful! I knew Ed Dugget years ago, I look forward to seeing him again.  Now I have to run! Just let me know if you need anything at all!” She waved briskly and as the door closed behind him, he could hear the faint jingle of her bracelets.

Relieved to be away from the stream of her consciousness, he drew a
slow, deep breath. Things were blessedly quiet in the locker room. No doubt that would change in an hour or so. Mr. Lynch had mentioned the hockey rink’s various leagues pulled in a lot of kids after school. Tempest opened a locker in the farthest corner and dumped his constant companion, his skate bag, on the bench.

Feeling amazingly carefree, he started to change. He had just pulled a black sweatshirt over his head when he heard the door open. He felt even more carefree when two guys rushed in without giving a second glance. He smiled to himself. In spite of Ms. Summer’s chattiness, this was going to be a good place to train. A quiet place where he could get the job done.

One of the boys spoke to the other.

“We gotta hurry, Mart’s picking Trixie up and I need to get home. We haven’t checked the janitor’s closet in here yet.”

His buddy, taller, dark-haired, blue-eyed, also about 18, walked over to a door and tried the handle.

“Locked! Bob, you know, someone would’ve found the uniforms by now if they were in the closet, seems like someone is always mopping up around here.”

His blond companion was twiddling combination on a locker.

“Jerry, we’re running out of possibilities. If my theory is correct, the
uniforms are somewhere in this building and we haven’t checked this closet! Now! I conned the keys out of Mart, they’re in my locker. Aha!”

He tossed a bunch of keys on a miniature hockey stick keychain to Jerry who caught them and said, “I know, I know, good detectives check every possibility! I watched Scooby Doo, too! But can you solve the mystery of which of these keys opens this door?”

Tempest sat down to lace up his skates while the teens tried several keys.

“Eureka!” Bob found the right key, inserted it in the lock, and jerked the
door open. He was suddenly still, blocking his friend’s view into the closet.

“What, did you find the uniforms? Move over!” Jerry gave Bob a little push. When he saw what was inside, he swore softly.

“Uh, no, I guess you didn’t find the missing uniforms. Whose are they? Are they Amelia’s?"

Bob shook his head, seeming dazed. “They're too small to be hers, but
they're expensive.” He swore too, “We gotta find out who’s missing theirs, come on, Jerry."

Bob pulled the items out of the closet and the two rushed from the room.

Tempest shook his head, no longer smiling. He’d seen them too. Bob's surprise at seeing the tiny white skates was clearly genuine. It looked like he was the victim of a rather mean spirited practical joke, along with some unknown little girl. Tempest got up and followed the two boys, wanting to be sure they found the owner of the skates. Hiding someone's competition quality skates was not funny, not funny at all.



Chapter 3

In Mart’s tiny, used Toyota, Trixie sat up front while Dan shared the back seat with a couple of suitcases and Trixie’s backpack. The trip from New York City had been lively, with all three talking as hard as they could. Trixie wanted to vent about her finals and to hear about Mart’s job and Dan’s work as a fire fighter. Dan wanted to talk about Jennifer and how her hair glistened in the sun, but figured he’d better not.  Instead, he told about her job as a librarian and also the storyteller on the local public TV station.  Mart griped good-naturedly about the traffic.

When they reached the outskirts of Sleepyside, Mart pulled into the new ice arena. Trixie had never seen it before, all her skating with her friends and brothers had been at the old country rink. She whistled appreciatively.

“Skate Connection! So this is Mr. Lynch’s new investment. Wow! Looks pretty classy! But what are we doing here? You said you canceled your team’s practice today!”

“ I did.  And you’re right; this is one smart investment. Both skating and
hockey are really taking off.  Are you guys hungry? There’s a decent
cafeteria and we can watch the practices. Twin rinks, you know, one NHL sized for hockey and the other Olympic skating size.”

“Uh, no offense, Mart, but if I have to eat junk food, I’d rather go to
Wimpy’s than eat microwave Nachos,” said Trixie, wondering what the heck Mart was up to.

“No, really Trix, the food is good here, they have a deli section at the
cafeteria. It’s not Wimpy’s, but they have great pickles! I’ll even treat
you as a homecoming present. Listen to the food guru, right, Dan?”

Dan blinked. He was obviously not in on Mart’s scheme. “Uh, yes, the food is good, probably better for you than Wimpy’s. Is Bob there now? Is that why you want to come here? We could see if he needs a ride since the jalopy is down for the count.”

“Bobby? Why would he be at the rink now? I happen to know his coaches are busy right now!” Trixie laughed as the three started across the snowy parking lot.

Dan laughed too. “You better watch it, Trixie! Bobby Belden does not exist! There is a dignified high school senior named Bob Belden Esquire, but no one who answers to “Bobby!”

“So what is BOB doing here, training to be a six foot tall rink rat?”
persisted Trixie.

Mart held the door for his sister.” You shall see soon enough. In the
meantime, Ta-da! This is our little home away from home. Well, one of ‘em anyway!”

Trixie walked into the well lit, spacious lobby. To the right was a pro shop with one window dedicated to hockey skates, sticks, pucks and jerseys and the other displaying Rydell skates, and sparking skating costumes. Both windows displayed blue Skate Connection T-shirts and windbreakers. Straight ahead, down a wide hall, was a counter behind which were hundreds of pairs of rental skates, both figure skates and hockey skates. Trixie started forward, smiling.

“This is really nice! Makes me want to hit the ice! Leave it to Mr. Lynch, it looks very professional!”  As she walked down the hall, she noticed that on her left was a wall of autographed posters. Trixie studied them, “Wylie, Stojko, and Yamaguchi equally balanced with Gretzky, Lindros and Lemieux. Very fair.”

Mart followed her. “Sometimes it’s harder for figure skaters and hockey
players to get along than the Montagues and the Capulets!”

Dan gestured to a bright blue door to the right, “Locker rooms through there, downstairs there’s the weight room, dance studio and pool.”

Trixie whistled. “This is really something! I had no idea this was such a big operation. But something seems to be missing..... uh where’s the ice?”

They had reached the end of the hall.

Mart crossed his arms in imitation of the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. “It’s both ways! Hockey to the right, figure skating to the left.”

Trixie ignored his silliness, and walked past him to the left. The figure
skating rink, currently alive with a dozen 5 year olds taking a beginning
lesson, lay before her. Stairs led upwards to glassed in bleachers and a
cafeteria. Trixie drew in a deep breath, enjoying the fresh cold air. The
little students were watching their teacher, a blond young woman wearing white mittens and a blue Skate Connection windbreaker, who was demonstrating crossovers. When she finished, the kids eagerly, clumsily, joyously imitated her, while she offered suggestions.

Trixie smiled, remembering her first moments on ice. Of course it had been on the frozen lake at the Manor House, long before Honey Wheeler moved in. How long had it been since she’d skated, anyway?  Was it when she and Honey had made fools of themselves at the rink in Iowa? That would be ten years ago! Out on the ice, the lesson seemed to be over. The little skaters wobbled to the boards and stepped off the ice. Their teacher followed as the Zamboni came out. A cluster of mothers came down the stairs to meet their little skaters.

Mart and Dan made their way through the little crowd to Trixie. Mart hoisted himself up onto the banister of the stairs, Dan leaned against the boards.

“So what do you think, Sis? Pretty cool, huh? There’s a peewee practice
going on at the hockey rink now, too. This is a very busy place.”

“The elite session is going to begin, next, that’s really something to watch. I never paid much attention to figure skating, but now that I’ve had a chance to watch, I’m kinda getting into it.” remarked Dan laughing a little sheepishly. “They have a power skating class for hockey and figure skaters that I think I’m going to take.”

The little skaters had cleared out, but were replaced by about a dozen older skaters clustering in the small area in front of the gate, waiting for the Zamboni to finish. A diminutive girl, about 17, placed her leg on the banister and stretched her arm up and over her leg like a ballerina at a barre. A 50-something gentleman wearing skates and a heavy winter coat was looking over a CD in his gloved hand. A tiny, Asian girl blew her nose and tossed the Kleenex into the trash can. The Zamboni finished resurfacing the ice and although the ice was still wet in patches, the three removed their skate guards and stepped onto the ice. The older man skated over to the boards on the far side of the rink and began fiddling with a video camera mounted there.

Trixie watched as the two girls stroked around the rink. “Look at these guys, wow! They are so fast!”

Dan laughed. “And they are just warming up! Do you recognize Amelia Gould? It’s a real coup, getting her to train here. That guy in the coat is her coach, Frank Krupke. He’s probably getting set up to tape her jumps. The little girl in red won the US Novices last year, her name is Rosita Ting. Looks like some no shows today. Wesson and Dunbar are usually here. They’re really nice.”

Carlos Santana’s “Smooth” started to play over the loudspeaker, it was hard to hear Dan’s identifications of the other skaters. Trixie watched as the two girl skaters progressed from stroking around the rink to some simple moves in the field. Rosita’s coach was now on the ice, she was talking to Mr. Krupke, looking a little disturbed, gesturing with broad arm movements.  Someone brushed past Trixie and stepped on the ice, with a murmured “excuse me.”  

He was about 25, curly-haired, wearing a black sweatshirt, it took only about three strokes to power him around the rink. Trixie’s eyebrows lifted appreciatively at the grace and power of the skater. He did a simple footwork passage next, his movements crisp and controlled. This guy was definitely an elite skater! After a blurringly fast scratch spin, he moved to the far side of the rink, and removed his sweatshirt. His plain white T-shirt revealed a perfect athletic build: broad shoulders, narrow waist and hips and... Whoops, when did she go from appreciating great skating to a great body! Laughing to herself at her shallowness, she turned (reluctantly) away.

“Ok, Mart, I’m ready for my pickle! Where is the fabuloso deli?

Trixie found she was addressing the banister as Mart had disappeared.

“Where did he go? I thought he was so hungry,” she asked Dan, who looked mystified.

“I don’t know, he was here a second ago, maybe he went over to the hockey rink for something. You know Trixie, I’m glad you’re back for a while, because your brother has been acting a little weird.”

Suddenly feeling annoyed, Trixie asked, “Which one? Seems like they both are acting strange, hanging around an ice skating rink of all places and to be honest Dan, I find your interest in skating kind of weird as well! I didn’t come back home to be dragged into any mystery and if that’s what Mart is up to you can just tell him so!”

Dan started to reply, looking truly astonished.

“Trixie, I... that’s not...” he stammered. “I mean,” he said in a firmer voice,” there’s no mystery, Bob is dating Amelia, that’s why he’s here all the time.  I told you the truth, I think the skating is cool, and that guy out there gave me some good pointers last summer that I use for the hockey. But Mart, well, yes, I do think something is bothering him. But it’s not anything, like, well, you know that thing with Jason. I mean it is not anything dangerous.”

As Dan finished the last sentence, however, a piercing scream ripped across the ice.

Chapter 4

Trixie and Dan turned back toward the ice. The little girl in red was huddled on the ice up against the boards. Her coach screamed again and in a second was bending over the child. After a brief moment, Rosita sat up. Her coach seemed to question her. Rosita shook her head and stood up with her coach’s assistance. The other skaters, who had paused, went back to their stroking, spinning, and edgework. Trixie and Dan looked at each other and laughed sheepishly.

"Boy, talk about perfect timing, I thought someone was being murdered!"

Trixie said, "Why was the coach screaming, though? Skaters do take the
occasional fall, I wouldn’t want a coach screaming each time I fell! Of course the way I skate, the coach would never stop screaming!"

Dan laughed and then spoke thoughtfully,

"Heather isn’t usually so high strung. She looked like she was having an argument with Amelia’s coach right at the beginning of the session, maybe she was just up tight. Uh, oh!" Dan broke off with an exclamation.

Rosita had started to skate, leaning on her coach, and her right ankle caved in. With no further discussion, Heather swept Rosita up in her arms and carried her to the gate and off the ice. As Heather and Rosita passed him, the attractive skater Trixie had been ogling looked startled and glided near where Rosita had fallen. Meanwhile, a flashy looking lady wearing a quantity of bracelets had come rushing down the stairs.

"Oh, my goodness, is she all right, is she all right?" Her voice was high and panicky.

Heather gently put Rosita down on the bench closest to the stairs. Trixie knew they should leave, but she and Dan were now hemmed in between the panicky lady, the boards, and Heather. The panicky lady moaned, "Oh dear, oh dear," and moved her bracelets up and down her arm.

Heather was saying frantically, "Rosita! You said you weren’t hurt. Why did you get up? Is it your foot, your ankle, your knee? Tell me, let me help you!"

Rosita looked bewildered. "I’m OK, I told you, nothing hurts!"

Heather was now very gently rotating Rosita’s tiny foot. "Tell me if that hurts," she said watching Rosita’s face.

"It doesn’t hurt, I told you, I’m OK! I want to finish practicing, you said   I could start on the triple lutz if I did my double perfectly." Rosita’s   voice took on a whining tone.

There were no signs of pain or even discomfort on Rosita’s face. It was obvious she was uninjured. Heather sighed in relief and then spoke angrily, "Well you are darn lucky you are OK! What were you thinking of, trying your lutz without warming up properly? You know better than that! Do you want to get injured?"

Rosita muttered sulkily, "I felt warm, I’m sorry, I just wanted to get my lutz."

The panicky lady stepped down the last stair. "Well, Heather, I see you are as neglectful of the warm up procedures as ever."

Without turning from her student, Heather said sharply, "Julie, this is neither the time or the place for that discussion."

Hold on a minute, Heather." The voice, though quiet, cut through the babble. The attractive skater stepped off the ice, his face was solemn.

"Kind of hard to get that perfect lutz when you’re missing this," he said soberly. He held out his hand and in it, Trixie could see a tiny screw. "That was a really strange looking fall, and when Heather picked you up, I saw something drop on the ice."

Heather gasped. She bent and looked where Rosita’s blade was attached to her right boot. The other screws were still tight, but the one missing screw made the blade fractionally loose and infinitely dangerous.

"Oh my God!" Heather cried, "It’s a miracle you weren’t hurt!"

Julie shoved Heather aside and hugged Rosita fiercely. "Rosita, thank  goodness you are all right!"

Only Rosita’s eyes showed above Julie’s shoulder. She was squirming to   escape the hug, but Trixie wasn’t sure why. She had no time to wonder,   however, for Heather lashed out at Julie.

"Julie, leave her alone and tell me what is going on at this rink! First, Rosita’s skates are missing, and then as soon as we find them, a screw comes loose for no reason! What kind of program are you running here?"

Julie bristled and shot back, "Me? I am the one who found out who took them! I did just what you needed, I found them!"

Heather faced Julie without flinching. The two women were of similar age, but Heather was tiny, with smooth, straight blonde hair and enormous blue green eyes flashing. Trixie suspected that the more flamboyant Julie would be not match for Heather’s ferocity.

"That’s not good enough, Julie. Where were the skates? Who had them? You told me it was some kid’s idea of a practical joke, but this is no laughing matter if that person loosened a screw!"

"Maybe you don’t check them check them thoroughly, Heather," Julie answered coldly, "I seem to recall you are not the most detail oriented person in the world."

Trixie and Dan exchanged a glance. It was uncomfortable to be witnesses to the scene, which Trixie thought had the makings of a potential cat fight, but deep in a corner of her mind, she was wondering if the skate could have been damaged deliberately and if so, why. She sternly suppressed that thought and tried to sidle out of the hubbub. This put her right next to the attractive skater. He looked at her and their eyes met. Trixie felt a little flustered and he looked almost shaken. They each looked away almost immediately.

The discussion between the two ladies was getting more acrimonious.

Heather’s glare could now have melted the ice. "Listen, Julie. Rosita’s   skates were fine 4 hours ago. You said someone took them for a practical joke. Now I find they were damaged. If you don’t tell me who took them, I will talk to Mr. Lynch myself."

Rosita was looking a little frightened by all the acrimony. She tugged at Heather’s hand. "Heather? Can’t we just fix them? I want to get back on the ice."

Heather’s expression softened and she knelt back down by Rosita.

"I’m sorry, Rosita, Yes, we’ll get it fixed and get you back on the ice. Get the skates off for now, I’ll get a screwdriver."

Rosita looked relieved and started pulling at the laces. Heather stood again and said more calmly to Julie, "Don’t you see? This needs to be investigated. This isn’t the first incident. Frank Krupke has been concerned about security here, too. And I’m sure you don’t want Tempest to get a bad impression of Skate Connection on his first day here!" She nodded at the attractive skater as she spoke. Trixie used her vast detective reasoning to deduce that the attractive skater had the unlikely name of Tempest.

Rosita pulled her skates off and she and Heather started toward the hall.

Julie looked defensive, embarrassed, and angry all at once, followed them.

"The person who took them is a good friend of Mr. Lynch’s son, so go ahead!" Julie looked down the hall and gasped. "In fact, investigate the kid yourself, that’s him! Bring out the rubber hose and start the interrogation!"

Julie gestured so violently, a bracelet flew off her thin wrist. It landed at
the feet of Bob Belden.



Chapter 5

Trixie gasped as Bob Belden bent to pick up the bracelet which had struck him in the chest and then fallen at his feet. Looking perplexed, he handed it to Julie, who still looked angry and had trouble thanking him.

Bemused to see her brother suddenly appear, just as he was being implicated in this confusion, Trixie called, "Bobby!" and moved past the little crowd to give her younger brother a hug.

He returned the hug enthusiastically, lifting her off her feet.

"Trixie! Welcome home! We missed you!"

Trixie noted he did not seem surprised to see her. Obviously Mart had found him. Her reasoning was confirmed when Mart appeared behind Bob. Accompanying them was either Jerry or Larry Lynch. Trixie used to be able to tell them apart, but she was out of practice now.

There were now eight adults and one child standing in the relatively small area between the stairs and the hall. Heather, her hand on Rosita’s shoulder was looking confusedly at Bob and Trixie. Dan had moved forward with Trixie. Tempest had taken a few steps forward as well.

"What’s going on here?" This last comment was from Mart. "A political convention?"

No one said anything for a moment and then several voices spoke at once.

"Someone vandalized Rosita’s skates"

"Heather, you said we would get my skate fixed now!"

"Bob Belden had them, he is the one who had the skates!"

This was getting ridiculous, no one was taking charge. Trixie thought. She cleared her throat and said, "Um, is there somewhere we can go to straighten this all out? I’m Trixie Belden, and I know my brother would never have damaged anyone else’s property. Maybe if we sit down somewhere we can figure this out."

Bob paled. "Damage someone’s property?" he echoed. "What are you talking about?"

A babble of voices broke out again from Julie and Heather. Mart held up his hand and said loudly," Um, Julie, I know you’d like to go to your office to deal with this, but it’s a bit small for this crowd. What about the cafeteria?"

Finally taking charge, Julie snapped, "Way too noisy. The party room is not booked, we can have some quiet and privacy there." She glanced at Tempest, "I am so sorry about all this confusion, Tempest. Contrary to what some are implying, I assure you, we are not usually this chaotic." Her laugh sounded a little forced so she added hastily, "I hope we haven’t disrupted your practice too much."

Tempest responded politely, "Really, it’s no problem," and then added rather diffidently, "Mind if I come with you? I think I may be able to help."

"Well, that is very kind of you and if we need you we’ll send someone over but I am sure you want to get back out on the ice."

Her tone was polite, but dismissing. However as Mart, Bob, Jerry (or was it Larry?) Rosita, Heather, Julie and Dan started up the stairs, Trixie noticed that Tempest had put guards on his skates and was following. In spite of her concern about Bob, she felt a foolish smile playing on her lips. Sternly banishing it, she followed the line of people into what Julie had called the party room.

The party room was an area of the cafeteria that could be closed off. It was empty, but apparently a party for "Bruno" was to take place later. At least a huge banner wishing Bruno a "Happy Birthday" was hanging on one wall. The opposite wall overlooked the hockey rink, Trixie’s first glimpse of it. Red and blue streamers and balloons hung from the low ceiling. There was a table in the middle of the room, covered by a paper tablecloth with hockey players forming a border. Everyone sat down.

In an effort to show her authority, Julie spoke right up." Let's get right to the bottom of this, I have a lot of other business to take care of."

Heather interrupted, "Um, Julie, maybe you know all these people, but I don’t. I know Tempest, of course," she smiled at him and he gave her a warm smile in return.

Julie didn’t miss that exchange. Annoyed, she said, "Mart Belden works here part time. He coaches one of the senior teams and handles some of the more simple administrative tasks. Mart, could you introduce the rest of this convention, as I believe you called it?"

Mart, unfazed by her uncomplimentary introduction, pointed as he spoke. "This is my younger sister Trixie, she’s just home from college and I was showing her around. You all know Dan Mangan, sitting next to her, we actually coach the Ice Dawgs together, equally sharing the blame- I mean, responsibility."

Dan laughed as Mart continued, "We have our two best players here, too, my younger brother Bob, a defenseman and his bud over there, Jerry Lynch, is the goalie. I don’t believe we have been formally introduced, but I conjecture that this lovely lady in red is the famous Miss Rosita Ting along with her coach, Heather Markeson. And the gentleman in the corner is some guy I elbowed at the airport this morning and I really hope he is not here to beat me up!"

Tempest smiled. "That was a weird coincidence, eh? I’m new here, today’s my first day. I’m just here to train for a few weeks. Tempest Smith." He reached across the table and shook hands with Mart.

"Wow, Heather said you might come here! That is so cool! Did you see my lutz? What was it like to win a world championship? Do you know Michelle Kwan?" Rosita sounded awestruck.

Julie interrupted Rosita. " Rosita, Mr. Smith is here to concentrate on his training. There is simply too much media attention for him in Canada. So let’s do him the courtesy of giving him some peace."

Rosita looked like she was going to cry. Tempest winked at her and mouthed, "It’s OK." while Heather patted her hand and looked daggers at Julie.

Her glare had no effect on Julie, who continued. "Now if Mart has finished with his frivolities, let’s get down to business. And this is serious business. Earlier today, Rosita’s skates were reported stolen. I had assumed Ms. Markeson had merely misplaced them, but after she had looked for several hours I was forced to agree that the skates were indeed stolen. I had a busy day scheduled and turning this place upside down put me behind. I wasn’t able to give Mr. Smith as much time I had hoped, but I was able to give him a brief tour. I had just resumed the search when this boy, Bob Belden, came to my office with Rosita’s skates. He said he found them in the janitor’s closet in the men’s locker room."

As Julie took a breath, preparing to continue, Heather jumped in.  "Julie brought me the skates and told me it was just a prank. Naturally I was upset, but Rosita was ready to skate and we had some important plans for today," Heather paused to smile down at her protegee. "However, when she tried her first jump today, Rosita took a very strange fall. It was a miracle she wasn’t hurt. Tempest saw something fall, and it turned out that one of the screws actually fell off her skate."

Mart whistled. Bob paled, so that his freckles stood out on the bridge of his nose. Trixie could see both Julie and Heather were gearing up for another argument, but she was still surprised to hear her own voice speaking up.

"So there are two questions, who took the skates and did they, or someone else tamper with them?"

Julie rushed to answer before Heather. "All I know is Bob Belden is the one who brought them to me. Bob has been in and out at this rink quite frequently. Not only is his brother an employee, one with keys to the building, I might add, but Bob is seeing another skater socially. I have never observed any inappropriate behavior from him, but I would say he has some explaining to do."

Bob cleared his throat, knowing all the eyes in the room were on him at him. "Jerry and I were, we were looking for something else. I did borrow the keys from Mart, I unlocked the closet and there were these skates just sitting  there. I had no idea who they belonged to but I brought them to Ms. Summers right away, didn’t I Jerry?

Jerry Lynch nodded vigorously. "Yeah, Bob was shocked and so was I, we went right to Ms. Summers. You didn’t seem concerned," he added, looking at Julie. "we didn’t notice anything wrong with the skates. We just gave ‘em to you."

"You said it was probably just a prank and don’t worry!" Bob added

Trixie asked her younger brother, " What on earth did you need from the closet?"

Jerry exchanged a quick look with Bob, who shook his head slightly.

"Paper towels. We needed paper towels," Bob said by way of explanation.

Tempest stirred as if he were going to say something, but Mart spoke first.

"Bob did say he needed to get out some paper towels. He asked me for the keys when I was quite distracted and I just handed them over. He gave them back to me just a few minutes ago."

Trixie thought to herself that Bob looked as guilty as sin. Trixie knew he hadn’t tampered with any skates, but she was quite sure there was more going on than he was telling. And what was Mart up to? He was behaving strangely from his introductions that did seem rather frivolous, to his latest speech which just didn’t ring true.

Heather was looking very stern. "I am sorry, Bob, but I need to know more. How long did you have the skates before you turned them in? Are you sure you didn’t think it might be funny to loosen a screw, just for a joke? I’ve noticed hockey players don’t seem to think much of figure skaters. It will be easier for you if you tell the truth."

Both Mart and Trixie’s blue eyes flashed fire at this speech but before either could defend their little brother, Tempest interjected in a quiet but firm voice,

"I really think I can help here, Heather. I was in the locker room when Bob and Jerry came in. They didn’t even notice me, I was in the far corner. It was very obvious that they were shocked to see the skates. Bob pulled them out and they left the room within like 2 seconds of finding them. I followed them to make sure they got turned in, and as I walked out of the locker room they were already handing them to Ms. Summers. There is no way either of these boys tampered with the skates. They had no time and they did not expect to find them in the closet."

Chapter 6

The ride home had been very quiet. All three had been deep in thought, and no one seemed eager to discuss the strange scene at the skating rink. Trixie was feeling downright irritated. Her feeling that something was up with one or both of her brothers was strong, but she had learned her lesson four years ago. Why was her darn curiosity churning questions through her brain when she should be thinking of seeing the rest of her family, seeing her friends, seeing Jim?  Seeing the coziness of Crabapple Farm under a blanket of snow had lifted her spirits somewhat. And when she dumped her backpack on the kitchen table and noticed a certain item under the shining counter, her irritation was forgotten in complete astonishment.

“A dishwasher! Moms finally got a dishwasher! I can’t believe it! That is sounfair! Why? Why, after I am virtually out of the house?”

Mart said, “Bob, you owe me ten bucks! Hand it over!”

Trixie continued her tirade, “I can’t believe this! It’s because Bob is a boy; that’s it, sexism is alive and well in the Belden household! Once the girl moves out, the dishwasher moves in!

Bob grumpily handed Mart a very worn ten dollar bill. Mart was laughing.

Trixie yelped, “Are you guys betting on me? You are so low!”

Bob grinned, “Well, it was worth it to see your face! Mart told me you’dnotice it the minute you walked in the door, I thought it would only dawn on you when you started to run water in the sink after dinner!”

“Go ahead, make fun of your sister. When I think of the millions of dishes Ihave washed in this sink and the minute I turn my back, Moms gets a dishwasher!” Trixie tried to stay grumpy, but she had to laugh at Mart andBob who were trying to look meek. She gave up and laughed, then asked, “So who’s cooking tonight, Mart? Geez, with a new dishwasher and you theculinary genius, Moms can take up bridge or something!”

“Actually, I am doing the cooking tonight,” Mart said smugly. “Well, to be honest, it’s already done, just a simple clam chowder with some cornbread.” He pulled a kettle from the refrigerator and set it to warm on the back burner of the gleaming stove. He got out eggs and milk and told Bob to help Trixie take her stuff upstairs. “You two, out of my kitchen! Moms and Dad should be home in a half hour.”

Bob picked up both heavy suitcases quite easily and ran lightly up the stairs. Trixie was properly impressed. She followed him carrying her backpack and entered her room in time to see him set the cases down with a thump. He was so obviously hoping she would say something about what great shape he was in, Trixie had to oblige.

“So you must be lifting weights Bob, those cases are heavy.”

“Well, I do get down to the weight room every now and then. You have to be in good shape to play hockey, even the no hit stuff we play at Skate Connection.” he introduced the subject, looking at her from under his sandy eyelashes.

Trixie was not fooled by his seemingly casual mention. If she were to be honest, curiosity had been working to conquer her irritation since she’d reached the comfort of home.

She sat on her bed still covered by the wedding ring quilt made by her grandmother. She patted the bed next to her invitingly. Bob settled his sturdy, six foot frame down and the springs creaked. Trixie smothered her grin, remembering when Bob had to scramble up to show her his frogs or his grasshoppers, or some other gross item his 6 year old mind thought amazing.
She wondered what amazing thing he was going to share with her now. But he sat silently, staring at the china cat he’d given her to replace one he’d broken years ago.

“So, I hear you have a girlfriend,” she said finally.

He shook his head in wonder. “Mart knows everything, he said Amelia would be the first thing you asked about. Well, yes, I guess she is my girlfriend. I mean we haven’t said it, you know, like you are my girlfriend, Amelia. But I’ve taken her to the movies, and we, we’re going to Mr. Lynch’s Christmas party together and we...” he stopped abruptly. “ Anyway, so yeah, she’s great. You’ll get to meet her soon, I hope.”

“And she’s a skater,” Trixie prodded.

“Well, yeah, she’s this rising star, really, I mean her picture’s in magazines even, sometimes. It’s so weird. I just met her in class, she, well, when I asked her out, I had no idea. I probably wouldn’t have had the nerve if I’d known," he confessed.

“I thought there was something funny about your sudden interest in skating.” Trixie found she still had the knack for eliciting information.

“Oh, well, Mart started that really. Got a job at the rink, you know. His job at the Inn is only part time, and he really wants a new car, a new used car that is, so he says he conned Mr. Lynch into giving him a job.” Bob laughed and continued, “And he volunteered to coach this hockey team, we’re the Ice Dawgs. That was this summer. He got Jerry to join too, but Larry is off is Spain this term. But I sure did get devoted when I met Amelia. She is... she
is...” he paused, trying to find the best word, gave up and finished lamely, “She is really great”

“He’s grown up.” thought Trixie, suddenly homesick for that little boy
showing her his frogs.

Strangely depressed, she said abruptly,

“So who is this guy, Tempest?” and then could have smacked herself on the head. Why of all the questions popping into her head did that one come to the fore?

Bob didn’t see anything strange with the question, thank goodness. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen him around, like he said, he’s new. Seems nice though, in spite of his name. I guess he saw that old biddy was sure I had pulled that screw out. Like I would do anything so stupid. But something’s going on, that’s for sure.”

“Something’s going on? What, at the rink?” Trixie asked sharply, before she suddenly remembered her vow to stay out of trouble forever.

“Yeah, well, it’s not just what happened today. Just... I think there’s something suspicious going on there. And I’m going to find out what!”

A chill ran down Trixie’s spine. How many times had she spoken similar words? And look at the consequences. She struggled for a casual tone. “The screw probably just come loose, Bob. Don’t jump to conclusions. Anyway, I think I’ve had just about enough of ice skating rinks for today, maybe for weeks!”

“Well, Trixie, it's not like I need your help, exactly, I just...” Bob began, but just then the car pulled into the driveway. Trixie jumped to her feet, glad of the interruption.

“Moms and Dad! Where have they been anyway? Since when do we eat dinner at 7:00? Dad always wanted to smell meat roasting and cake baking when he walked in at 5:30!”

Bob suddenly snorted with laughter.

“What? What did I say? Where were they?” Trixie was dumbfounded.

“Moms and Dad have a new hobby, Trix! They are taking a class together. It is soooooo romantic” Bob was smirking in a way that made Trixie want tothrow her pillow at him. Instead she growled,

“OK, BOBBY, just tell me where they were!”

“Their new hobby is ice dancing. They just came home from the skating rink!” Bob stuck his tongue out at her and pounded down the stairs as Trixie’s “arggh” floated behind him.

“What the heck is going on with this family? Since when does every person in this world skate, for crying out loud?” she muttered to herself as she followed.

Seconds later, she was enveloped in Moms’ welcome hug while Dad stood waiting
his turn.

For a few moments everyone talked at once, including Mart who’d emerged from the kitchen. Trixie was surprised at how good it was to see her parents and hear them marvel at her new haircut and how tan she looked. The babble continued till a timer sounded from the kitchen.

“Muffins are done, get ‘em while they’re hot, folks!” Mart proclaimed in a bossy voice. Dad helped Moms off with her coat and Trixie received a shock. Moms looked, er, well, no way! Could she possibly look... sexy? She was wearing a skating costume with a tight black top and a long gauzy mauve skirt. The top was cut modestly, but still revealed a figure quite good for a
woman of her age. Trixie closed her mouth, which had fallen open and followed her family into the dining room.

As they spooned up Mart’s clam chowder, (which certainly was not simple;clearly he had some secret recipe) the family chatted about Trixie’s flight, Brian’s studies in Michigan, how finals were going for Bob, and about when on earth would Mart’s part time job at the Glen Road Inn become full time.

“What is the big deal with this job thing, anyway, Mart?” Trixie asked. “Why not try your luck elsewhere instead for waiting for an opening?”

“Tony is a master chef, he wants to take me on, but he is waiting till his assistant goes on maternity leave. She plans to take a year off, so I will be in as soon as that baby is born! Believe me, even working with Tony part time is a better step for my career than just about any other full-time job I can get.”

Mr. Belden helped himself to another muffin." It is nice to see the Glen Road Inn doing so well. Tony remodeled the whole place, and it is building a great reputation as a hotel as well as the restaurant. Almost like a bed and breakfast, but bigger. And with Mart as one of the cooks, the food is outstanding.”

Mrs. Belden patted her lips with her napkin. “Dad took me there for our anniversary and the food was wonderful. I have to insist Mart not practice too much at home or I will get fat!"

“Moms, you’re not fat at all, you look great!” Trixie burst out. “What is your secret? After just a cafeteria salad and burger I need to run on the beach for miles! It’s the ice skating isn’t it? You and Dad have started ice skating at - " She stopped abruptly.

“I hear the unspoken phrase, ‘at your age’ lingering in the air, don’t you Peter?” Mrs. Belden said to her husband. "Yes, I skated as a girl and Dad and I thought it would be fun. We are actually thinking of competing at the adult level when we get a little better. Mr. Lynch talked about it so enthusiastically at our Thanksgiving open house, we decided to sign up.”

"It's a great way for me to show your beautiful mother off to the world," Mr. Belden added. "It certainly is busy there, especially today, seemed like more hustle and bustle going on than usual. We watched Amelia before our lesson. By the way, Bob,” and his voice suddenly sounded stern, "she was a little upset, she got your message to meet her, but said you never showed up. We told her Trixie was coming home, and you must have gotten confused about times, but I suggest you call her right after dinner to apologize. Carelessness can really cause some hurt feelings.”

Bob started. “What message? I didn’t leave her any message.” He looked at Mart who said in an oddly unconvincing manner, “It was probably just a mistake, maybe an old message.”

Trixie noticed both her brothers were avoiding looking at her.  Or was she imagining it? She took a bite of her muffin and then gulped at her water glass when it suddenly seemed dry as dust. She looked at her empty soup plate and then said, inspired, “By the way Moms! We need to have a talk. What’s all this about a dishwasher, huh?”

As her mother and father exchanged an amused look, Trixie knew she’d changed the subject successfully.

Chapter 7

Trixie closed the kitchen door behind her and gazed at the sunrise through the bare branches of the crabapple trees. She breathed in the fresh cold air. Just the tiniest threads of her nightmare clung to her like fine cobwebs, but a brisk walk with a long awaited treat at the end would take care of that. She crunched across the snow and down the driveway on the way to Glen Road.

As the sun continued to cast a pink glow across the snow as well as the sky, Trixie kept up a fast pace. She probably should have borrowed one of the cars, but she’d felt the need for some exercise. She was well bundled up in her down jacket and her blue felt hat. She hadn’t just rolled out of bed and jumped into her clothes for this occasion. Selection of her khakis (casual) and red sweater (tight) had taken some time. So had applying a little mascara to her sandy lashes and scattering a little powder across her nose. She still tried to hide those freckles, but she wasn’t very successful. Actually several guys had commented that they liked them, but Jim had never weighed in on the subject. Jim had never weighed in on several subjects. When he had called last night to tell her he couldn’t come over after all, she’d almost lost her temper. Only pride, and the reflection that she had no right to be angry, allowed her to sound casual as she’d replied, “Oh, that’s OK, Jim. I’ll be grading papers in a year myself, so I’d better be understanding now.”

His deep voice had held a trace of laughter in it. “Trixie, you are being nicer than I deserve. What ‘s the catch?”

She’d forced a light tone to match his. “Oh, I don’t know, how about a job offer after I get my credential?”

 “Trixie, that is a given. I am just sorry we have to wait to a year to get   you on the faculty. How did your finals go? No wait! Don’t answer, I have 30 more essays to grade! What is it about you? You are very distracting!”

This had sounded promising. Jim had never called her distracting before. Her spirits had risen further when he’d continued,

“Anyway, I really have to get back to work, but I can’t wait to see you much longer. How would you like to meet me for breakfast at the Glen Road Inn tomorrow?”

“Wow, Jim I would love it!” she’d exclaimed, too enthusiastically, fortunately he hadn’t seemed to notice, or maybe he liked her excitement.

After they’d said good night and hung up, she’d lain awake for a long time, going over the conversation. It was so brief, but she thought maybe Jim had sounded a little different, a little more... aware. She’d smiled in the darkness, savoring the thought of her date with him. Well, of course it was not really a date. They had never dated. She’d been willing. If she were honest with herself, she would have to say that she’d been eager to develop a romance with Jim. In fact she’d planned on asking him to the Homecoming Dance her junior year, well, her first junior year. Certain events had prevented that.

“Stop it, you are not going to start obsessing after four years!” She actually had spoken out loud, her words hanging in the darkness above her bed.  Four years ago, she had vowed she would not allow tragedy to win. She would learn from it and move on. And she had. She had thrown herself into her studies with the same concentration she’d used as teenage detective. And she was a better person for it.

She had turned on her side and closed her eyes determined to get to sleep. Bob was sure grown up. He’d asked for her help and she had ignored it. That wasn’t exactly being a better person.  Why were those women at the rink so ready to believe Bob had vandalized that cute little girl’s skate? She’d yawned, feeling sleepy at last. She would talk to Bob tomorrow. If he needed help, she would be there for him. The odds were that it was nothing, just a misunderstanding. As she’d closed her eyes, she reflected that actually that skater, Tempest Smith, had been of more help to Bob than his own sister. He sure had terrific eyes.... Trixie had slept. She’d slept soundly till just before dawn when she’d dreamt about hospital corridors and the smell of antiseptic. She’d had no desire to go back to sleep after that, hence her early start this morning.

Lost in her thoughts, she had failed to appreciate the glories of this fine December morning until she stood in front of the Glen Road Inn. It looked dazzling in the bright, cold sunshine. The new owner, Mart’s boss, had really improved the place, which had been getting shabby over the last ten years.  The colonial style building was of red brick. There was a wide expanse of white snow in front, but the white topped trees of the wood provided a rustic setting. The inn had a holiday air, from the white wreaths hanging on the freshly painted green shutters to the huge evergreen in front decorated with red bows.

The enticing aroma of cinnamon greeted her as she entered the festive lobby. A frosted glass door to the right led to the restaurant As she reached for the knob, someone held the door for her. She looked up, murmuring her thanks, then did a double take. The person holding the door was Tempest Smith. His brown hair was wet from the shower and curled up tightly. The eyes she’d gone to sleep thinking about were smiling down at her. She smiled back, all thoughts of Jim on hold for the moment.

“Trixie Belden!” A waitress had approached. “Hey, welcome back! Are you back home for good?”

“Oh, hi, Jane, no, just home for the holidays. Good to see you.” Trixie concealed her annoyance, as best she could. She and Jane Morgan had worked out their differences long ago, but she couldn’t believe she was seeing Jane before Honey and Di. Jane continued,

“It’s great to see you too! I am working here in the mornings, but guess what? I am in a show! I am appearing in The Pirate in White Plains!”

Trixie summoned up her enthusiasm when she replied, “Wow, Jane! I’m really glad for you.” As she spoke, her eyes followed Tempest. He was being seated by the hostess. He wasn’t as tall as she had thought, but he still moved with an understated power and confidence.

 “I always knew you had what it takes.” Trixie said to Jane. The hostess looked like she was flirting with Tempest. “I hope I can see it while I’m back home, Jane,” Trixie continued rather absently

“That would be great, it’s a really good show.” Jane was looking at Tempest, too. “Well, Abby will be over there for a while, she can’t leave a good-looking guy alone. Let me get a table for you. Are you meeting someone?”

Jim. She was meeting Jim. “ Um, yes, Jane, I’m waiting for Jim Frayne.”

“And here he is!” said Jim’s voice behind her. Trixie whirled. Laughing, Jim swung her in a circle.

Her heart soared. He sounded so light hearted. He set her down and she looked up at him. Her smile faded when she saw the ugly scar under his chin.  It was still between them, she thought sometimes. He had never, ever blamed her, but the memory of those anxious two days when they almost lost him always seemed fresh when she saw the scar. And she knew it was her fault. She would never stop blaming herself.

“Trixie, you look great! Wow, it is so good to see you. I am sorry about not coming over last night.”

“Jim, it’s really OK, I got some quality time with Moms and Dad. But right now, I’m starved! All I’ve heard about since I got home is how great this place is”

When they were seated, and Jane had finished telling Jim she was only a waitress a few days a week and she was appearing The Pirate in White Plains, and took their orders and finally left them alone, Trixie wasn’t quite sure what to say. Jim was smiling at her in a different way, like he was seeing her for the first time. He seemed in no hurry to speak, so she blurted out,

“They went great.”

Jim blinked. “Huh? What went great?”

“My finals. They went great. Um. You asked last night.”

He looked at her and shook his head, smiling “You are an amazing woman, Trixie Belden.” His green eyes held an almost puzzled look, but it was definitely admiring. He continued “That is fantastic. You’ve been 4.0 since you went to California, haven’t you? I can’t believe I had to tutor you once upon a time.”

“I’d love to encourage your admiration, but my math class spoiled everything. I could have used you last fall! But I pulled a C out of it anyway. And yes, if I may brag to the Great Rhodes Scholar, I have A’s in everything else.”

Jane brought them juice and softball sized cinnamon rolls, and left an insulated coffee pot on the white tablecloth. They each took a sip of juice at the exact moment and then laughed together. Trixie relaxed. She didn’t know what was different about Jim, but she liked the change, she liked it very much indeed. They ate eggs benedict, drank fresh ground coffee, and chatted like the old friends they were. After a while they fell to reminiscing.

“I loved how you wore all that jewelry to impress Ben. You actually look pretty good all dolled up like that! Did you hear Ben is an actuary now?”

Trixie burst out laughing, “You must be kidding. What, did he do have a humor transplant?”

“I know, I know!  It is the weirdest thing, but he says he loves it. Go figure!” There was small cut glass vase on the table containing a red rose and some pine branches. Jim pushed it aside to pour her more coffee. He rested his hand on hers for a moment

“No rings? I thought the big fad was to wear rings on all your fingers. Do you ever wear a certain diamond ring?” His tone was light but there was an oddly searching look in his eyes. Trixie suddenly felt flustered, but her voice was steady when she answered,

“I do wear it sometimes, for dress up, you know. It means a lot to me, Jim.”

He looked down. “That’s good to hear Trixie.” He was about to say more, but here was Jane again.

“Can I get you guys anything else? Oh and I wanted to tell you, we have a matinee each Sunday. I got you each a playbill, I just happened to have a few with me.”

Trixie glanced down at the playbill, tempted to crumble it up in a ball right in front of Jane. Jim looked amused. Trixie suddenly noticed Tempest leaving the restaurant. Seeing him reminded her of Bob’s concerned face last night. She slipped out of her seat, excusing herself to Jim in a quiet voice. He nodded and continued to listen to Jane who was now giving Jim directions to the White Plains Memorial Auditorium

“Um, Mr. Smith?” she called quietly.

Tempest turned. He looked a little tense, but when he saw Trixie, he seemed to relax. She saw he had a playbill in his hand.

“Hi! It’s Ms. Belden, isn’t it? Nice to see you again.” His smile was warm and directed right into her eyes.

“Nice to see you too. I just wanted to thank you for helping my brother yesterday. I could see those ladies really thought he would mess up that little girl’s skate, but he is just not like that, he would never do anything to harm anyone.”

“I could tell that. I’m glad I was able to clear things up.” His hair had dried, but it was still quite curly. Trixie realized he had stopped talking. She should say something.

“ I guess you are off to the rink now.” Now that was a scintillating conversational gambit.

He didn’t seem in any hurry. “No, not right away, I was there early this morning. My coach arranged some private ice time. Your brother was there and he was a big help, got the video camera set up properly and taped some of my jumps.”

“Which brother? Bob? What was he doing there?”

“I don’t really know, he was in the locker room when I got there. I'm kind of at loose ends now. What is fun to do in this town in the morning?”

Say something witty, Trixie told herself. “Well, I wonder if  The Pirate has a morning performance you could catch.”  Damn, too mean.

He laughed, quietly as if they were sharing a secret, and he glanced at Jane. “Did she go on and on with you too? I didn’t mind her though. It’s pretty hard to stop talking about what you love.”

“I know what you mean.” Trixie tried to mend her fences. “And she has wanted this for so long. I went to high school with Jane.”

“It’s kind of funny, The Pirate was one of my grandmother’s favorites. She loved Gene Kelly.” He nodded at Jim, who was now paying the check and still listening to Jane. “So, are you and your boyfriend going to see it?”

Trixie was confused. Jim wasn’t her boyfriend, but he seemed interested for the first time since she was fourteen.  And Tempest looked like this was not as casual question as it may seem. Tempest’s intense gaze compelled her to tell the truth.  “Um, Jim’s not my boyfriend, but we’re really good friends. But I don’t think he wants to go see a musical.”

Jim finally escaped Jane and joined Trixie and Tempest. “You ready to go?” he asked and put his arm over her shoulder casually, looking inquiringly at Tempest.

Trixie quickly introduced the two, adding to Jim, “Tempest trains at Skate Connection. He, uh, he helped Bob out with a problem yesterday.”

The two shook hands, rather stiffly, Trixie noticed. They were an interesting contrast, Jim, tall with vivid red hair and green eyes, Tempest, smaller, compact, with brown hair and eyes. Jim was more classically handsome, but Tempest had a warm, charismatic appeal.

Jim said, “Mr. Lynch has spoken about you. He’s very excited to have a world champion at Skate Connection. I hope everything is working out for your Olympic training.”

“Yes, everything is working out very well. I was there this morning, had a good practice. Mr. Lynch mentioned you, too, I think you are one of the partners?”

“I have a small share, but really I am just a teacher. My calling is working with kids, not making money or winning glory. Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Smith. Good luck with your training.”

“Nice to meet you too. And to see you again, Ms. Belden.” Tempest accepted Jim’s rather brusque farewell amiably and went through the door leading to the rooms.

Trixie stared at Jim. If she didn't know better she would think Jim was... No, it wasn't possible. But she was puzzling over Jim's strange behavior in her mind as he escorted to his Lexus.

 

Chapter 8

Jerry paused outside of the dance studio. He hadn’t been in there much; the mirrored walls always kind of bothered him. It seemed just too weird to be watching your own every move, but he supposed it was necessary for skaters and dancers. At this point he had no desire to see his bedraggled, dirty self. But he needed to find Bob, and he’d looked everywhere else. So, he opened the door, peered inside, then stood frozen, wondering what to do now. Reflected a thousandfold in the mirrors, was his best friend Bob with the US silver medallist, Amelia Gould, clasped in his arms, so tightly lip-locked they were unaware of his presence. Jerry wondered if he should cough to announce his presence or just tiptoe away like a good best friend. He chose the latter, and was easing open the door when a large hand slammed it shut.

Bob Belden, looking furious, grabbed Jerry by his shoulder, and turned him round. Amelia was now sitting in the corner on a rolled up mat, her eyes reproachful and tears still wet on her cheeks. She was wearing a simple black skating outfit, black tights and tennis shoes. Her light brown hair was in a ponytail that hung halfway down her back. Bob walked over to stand next to her protectively. Jerry caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrors and groaned. His jacket was rumpled and dirty, there white flecks in his dark hair and there was a smear of something brown on his cheek. He looked stupid, his friend looked furious, and Amelia looked upset. Jerry wished that a big hole would open up in the springy floor and suck him down into the core of the earth. Or better yet that he were dead.

Upset she may have been, but Amelia was also kind. She broke the silence. “Hi Jerry,” she said lamely. “ Uh, it’s OK. We were just, um, talking.” Her pale skin blushed furiously at this patent lie, but Jerry appreciated her effort to ease his embarrassment. He did not expect Bob to be so kind.

But Bob, though also rather red, added, “Sorry Jerry, um, something has happened. I mean, to Amelia. I mean, she was telling me about something and we were...” Bob stopped. There was simply no way to complete this sentence since it was pretty obvious what they were doing.

The silence stretched uncomfortably. This is stupid, thought Jerry. “Bob, I’m sorry, I don’t think you guys were doing anything wrong, I won’t tell anyone and I’m sorry to interrupt. But I found the missing Ice Dawg uniforms.”

Amelia and Bob both looked relieved to have the subject changed. “You found them? Where were they?” Bob asked. Amelia should have looked confused, but she simply nodded, so Jerry assumed Bob had filled her in.

“Well, I was waiting for you, Bob. You said to meet you here before school, after all,” Jerry said pointedly.

Bob had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sorry, Jer, I ran into Tempest Smith. The guy who was supposed to videotape his jumps never showed and he asked me to videotape a few for him. I lost track of the time till Amelia got here a few minutes ago. But it’s great that you found them Jerry, tell us how you did it.”

Mollified, Jerry told his story. “I knew we’d looked everywhere inside, but it occurred to me that we should check outside. I was thinking about, like, in the bushes or something. So I was circling the building and I saw the dumpsters, right outside the cafeteria doors. I stood on a carton and looked in and I saw something the right colors, blue and red, and...” Jerry hesitated a moment and then finished abruptly, “And sure enough, there they were. In the dumpster.”

“Jerry! Wow, that is great! But why the dumpster? I am not sure that makes sense.” Bob frowned and rubbed his chin, thinking hard.

“Well, whether it makes sense or not, that’s where they were,” Jerry snapped. He ran his hand through his hair with frustration and some bits of eggshell fell out of his hair and onto his nose. Furious, he brushed the rest out of his hair.

Amelia was concerned about Jerry. “Are you OK, Jerry? How did you get so dirty?”

Jerry sighed. “Well, I tried to fish them out with a big stick I found.  I got one out and when I tried to get another, I lost my balance and fell in.” He shuddered. “It was completely gross.”

“So where are they now? We need to looked them over and see if there are any clues,” Bob asked in his single minded fashion.

“We are probably going to need to wash them, if they are in the state poor Jerry is in. You didn’t get hurt when you fell in did you?” Amelia’s eyes were concerned

“Well, no, just my pride.” Jerry felt a little better until Bob said impatiently.

“He’s all right! Where are the uniforms? We better examine before we wash them.”

“Uh, no Bob, we can’t use them again. They have been, well damaged.” Jerry found he did not want to say how.

“Damaged, how?” Bob wasn’t going to let this go, the great detective. “Are they ripped?”

“No, no, they are... well, they were covered with, with, well, you know, like... um... cheese sauce and ...stuff.” Jerry stammered.

“Come on, Jerry, that’s what they invented washing machines for. Where are they?”

Jerry felt a flash of temper. Bob didn’t need to be so bossy. “Well, I’m not gonna wash them. They are a complete write off, Mr. Great Detective, and anyway, I quit! I am through climbing around in dumpsters doing all the dirty work while you...”

Bob was mad too now. “Look, it’s not what it looked like. Amelia is a victim here and I was comforting her.” The two boys glared at each other.

"Oh is that what you call it, comfort?" Jerry snarled in the most obnoxious voice he possessed.

“Wait a minute, Bob,” Amelia said quietly, taking Bob’s clenched fist in her hand. “Jerry, is there something you’re not telling us? Why can’t the uniforms be cleaned?”

“ I told you they’re dirty. I mean, there’s some really gross stuff on them. They're... they are covered with dog doo.” Jerry felt his own face flushing at the childish term but he wasn’t going to use a more graphic phrase in
front of Amelia.

“Gross!” she exclaimed and looked sick. Jerry felt lower than before, but Bob demanded details. So much for protecting his sweetie.

Jerry admitted they were not completely covered with, er, the substance, but it was smeared in deeply in places. It had to be deliberate.

Bob shook his head. “Things are really heating up. Amelia, tell Jerry what you told me.”

She gave a tiny sigh.  “I got another phone call this morning, Right before I was ready to leave for the rink.  This woman said she was a nurse and told me my dad had had a heart attack.”

Jerry gasped and started to say how sorry he was, but Amelia interrupted, “It’s OK, Jerry, when I asked her more questions, we were cut off. At least, that’s what I thought. I called home right away and my dad answered. He is fine, thank God, it was just a prank, but who would do that to me? Why would anyone be so cruel?”

Bob said briskly, “Well, that is the whole question, isn’t it? Why? In a way I am relieved about the uniforms, it proves this is not directed at you personally, Amelia.” He sat down on the mat and put his arm around Amelia’s slender shoulders. She rested her head briefly on his shoulder.

Bob looked a tiny bit smug, but continued briskly, “What do we have so far? Everyone here is being harassed. Skaters and hockey players. I think my theory is dead on, someone wants Skate Connection to fail. They are trying to chase away all the business, the hockey players, the elite skaters, the up and comers, everyone.”

Jerry objected. “I think you are jumping to conclusions, Bob. I agree these incidents aren’t coincidence or misunderstandings, but they are scary. Messing with Rosita’s skate was dangerous. The calls to Amelia are cruel, just like you said. And this thing with our uniforms is, well it’s crazy. I mean, I think we are dealing with someone unbalanced here, but it could still just be you know, what do they call it, malicious mischief. You know, someone unbalanced.”

Amelia said, “I think it is too soon to form a theory. Maybe we should go over all the incidents and see if there is a pattern.”

Jerry said, “I’ve got an idea, how about Amelia and I go over the clues and Bob, you can fetch the rest of the uniforms out of the dumpster and run ‘em through a couple of wash cycles.”

Amelia laughed and Bob looked contrite. “Jerry, I’m sorry. You did get the dirty work this time, and I will wash the uniforms. It’s only fair. I don’t have a first period class, I’ll get them out now and stash them away somewhere. We can check for clues after school and then I'll wash them. We don't need them for a day or two.”

“I wasn’t serious about that. At least not completely.” Jerry laughed wryly. "But the thing is, we need to tell someone. We need to show the uniforms to someone. Someone like my dad. It’s his business we’re talking about!”

Bob and Amelia both spoke at once, but Jerry continued earnestly.

“No seriously. It’s not fair to him to keep this from him. It’s not fair to the skaters, or the hockey players either.”

Amelia stood up and spoke intensely. “Jerry, please. I know you are worried that your dad doesn’t know about this yet, but please, just give us a few more days. If my coach knew about the phone calls, he would go back to Delaware. I know he left our options open there. He feels more comfortable there and he thinks I will be too distracted going to public school here. It won’t help Skate Connection if we leave. And this is a really good facility! I mean, it’s not just for my sake I am asking you to wait. I hope more skaters will train here, it’s that good. Please?”

Bob added quietly, “Just a few more days, Jerry?”

Jerry looked at Amelia and Bob. Their reflections in the mirrors gave the impression that a hundred couples were looking at him with pleading, hopeful eyes. They made a good point, Jerry had seen Amelia’s temperamental coach, he definitely seemed like the sort to make impulsive decisions. Losing Frank Krupke would be a blow to the rink’s reputation.

“OK, but just a few days. And if anything else happens we tell Dad everything immediately.”

Amelia’s wide gray eyes lit up and Bob said gruffly, “Thanks, Jer. We’ll figure it out. It’ll be OK.”

The three stood there a moment, rather embarrassed until Amelia glanced at Bob’s watch and gasped. “I have to go, my session is about to start.”

She moved toward the door with her graceful stride, turned and looked at Bob, “Thanks, so much. I feel much better now. She turned toward Jerry, “Thank you too, Jerry.”

Bob held her hand for a moment and said, “Amelia, don’t worry, Jerry and I will take care of this.”

“All three of us will take care of it,” she corrected firmly. “I’ll see you in class.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed Bob on the cheek, gave Jerry a little wave and a smile and left the studio.

Bob stared after her with a looked that could only be described as besotted. He looked so dopey, Jerry was glad he was fancy free.

“Well, Bob, I guess I am over ruled. But I reserve the right to tell Dad if I think we’re over our heads.”

Bob shook himself and replied, “Jerry, I do understand how you feel. But I know we can solve this thing.”

“Did you tell Trixie about it? I just would feel better if someone else knew. I am afraid we are getting in over our heads.”

Bob shook his head. “Nah, I dropped a few hints about strange stuff here and she left the hints lying right on the ground. I’ll tell you what, I’ll try again when I see her. Hey what time is it? Don’t you have a class first period? You better get cleaned up, you smell terrible, ol’ buddy.”

“Gee thanks, Bob. OK. I’ll shower here and I’ll wear the sweats I was going to give to Larry. It’s too late to get them to Spain before Christmas anyway.”

“Great, see it all works out Jerry! I’ll go watch Amelia’s practice and see you next period at school.

Jerry clapped Bob’s shoulder. “Not quite, Sherlock, you have another date, a date with a dumpster and a big long stick."

And as Bob groaned, Jerry laughed for the first time since he had found the uniforms.




Chapter 9

The little store looked determinedly UN-chic and decidedly rural with two horses actually tied outside. Tempest gave the horses a wide berth as he approached the building. Tempest knew nothing about horses other than people raced them. And they ate hay. At least he thought they ate hay. His father was not keen on animals; had no room for anything in his heart but his printing presses and his only son, not at all a bad deal. One of the horses tossed his (or her) head and gave a quiet neigh. They were beautiful animals. Someday, after he retired, he would try riding.

Tempest climbed the stairs and wiped his boots free of snow before opening the door to the little shop.  A bell tinkled, but Lytell's Store seemed deserted. It was a small but spotless room. There were no footprints on the ancient green and yellow checked linoleum, no smudges on the glass freezer case to his left. The counter on his right had a huge old fashioned cash register (the kind with a crank and brass decorations) atop its shining surface. The merchandise was placed neatly on the counters, but if it was organized in some fashion, Tempest was at a loss to figure out the system. Loaves of white bread were shelved next to some pink plastic bags of something. He looked more closely and laughed suddenly. Feminine hygiene products, as the commercials called them. Where would the batteries be? He moved down the aisle and turned as the bell over the door rang again. When he saw who it was he moved further back to the far wall. He really didn't feel the need to talk to Julie Summers.

She was wearing high heeled leather boots, a politically incorrect fur coat and a bright green silk scarf at the neck. She grabbed a bag of the feminine hygiene products and stalked up and the down the aisles, muttering to herself. Tempest, feeling foolish, quietly dodged her. He did not want her knowing where he lived and if she saw him here it would be pretty obvious he was staying at the inn. Tempest had developed pretty good radar about people and there was something about Julie that didn’t feel quite right. It was more instinct than reason, but the slighting way she had treated Heather yesterday didn't help change his mind. He continued his hide and seek game with her. She stopped abruptly in front of the counter and sighed loudly. She coughed next. Then she dropped an enormous clump of keys on the counter. The resulting thunk rang through the quiet store.

A door from somewhere in the back of the shop opened. An elderly man wearing half moon reading glasses took his time coming down the aisle toward his customer. He looked over Ms. Summers and then pointedly looked at the melting snow she had tracked over the linoleum.

He made a harrumphing noise back in his throat "May I help you, Miss?"

"Yes, this," Julie shoved the pink bag across the counter, "and where is your Motrin?"

"No Motrin. Got aspirin. Down there. Finally had to stock some Tylenol, but that's enough new fangled medicine." The shopkeeper pointed to some small bottles on the bottom shelf sandwiched between wax paper and some old fashioned bottles of ink, then picked up a sponge mop and wiped up the dirty water with unnecessary vigor. Julie’s mouth was tight with annoyance as she crouched where he’d indicated, wobbling on her high heels. She bobbled her enormous handbag a minute, then rose holding the aspirin. She handed over some bills, took her change and left without so much as a thank you.

Pleased that he had succeeded in avoiding her, Tempest walked toward the front on the store. As he passed the window he noticed Julie getting into the passenger seat of a gold Mercedes. The middle aged woman driving barely waited till Julie had pulled her foot in and closed the door before she swung the car in a wide U-turn, sending gravel and snow flying.

The shopkeeper was now the one coughing to get attention. Tempest turned away from the window and smiled politely while he asked for batteries, thinking to himself that they were probably with the cake mix.

Tempest was subjected to a searching look from over the spectacles. Tempest wasn’t sure why, but the shopkeeper’s dour expression eased very slightly. He leaned the mop in the corner and showed Tempest an array of batteries (shelved above the eggs).

He had thanked Mr. Dour Shopkeeper and was looking for the AA cells when the bell tinkled once again. A familiar voice spoke. “Mr. Lytell, Jim thinks Belle is just feeling her age, but maybe you want to call Dr. Samet. He is still checking her out.”

Tempest drew in his breath suddenly. It was her. It was Trixie. She’d said this morning that Jim was not her boyfriend, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Jim wanted to change that. He wondered what Trixie’s preferences were in the matter. Only one way to find out.

Trixie was still talking with the shopkeeper. Tempest liked the way she looked directly at the shopkeeper as she talked. Her cheeks were bright and her blonde hair ruffled. It was hard to tell in the dim light of the shop, but he thought there was a light spray of freckles across her nose.

“Yes, I just have one more semester to get my BA but then I need to get a credential so it will be another year before I’m back home for good.”

“Hmmph. Being a teacher is a pretty good career. Nice to see you settling down at last. Still, don’t see why you couldn’t go to school around here,” the shopkeeper grumbled, “probably getting a lot a weird ideas from those folks in California.”

She had looked stubborn at the first part of the storekeeper's speech but laughed at the last phrase. Tempest, enjoying the play of emotions on her face, felt like the whole shop brightened when she laughed. Again that sense of familiarity struck him. He hadn’t noticed that he’d moved closer, intrigued by those freckles. Mr. Lytell noticed him though.

“Find what you needed?”

At the same time, Trixie exclaimed, “Tempest, I mean Mr. Smith, hi!”

“Please call me Tempest. We’d better be on a first name basis if we’re going to keep running into each other. Three times in 24 hours!” He turned to Mr. Lytell, “Yes, thank you sir, I found them. How much do I owe you?”

Trixie followed Tempest and Mr. Lytell as they moved to the counter. “It’s not so strange in a small town. Oh, and call me Trixie. Mr. Lytell, this is Tempest Smith.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith. New in town?” the shopkeeper said as he rang up the batteries.

“I’m here for a few months. I’m staying at the inn down the road, so I am sure I’ll be here frequently.” He handed over his money.

“Got plenty more batteries, young man. Be seeing you, I’m sure,” said Mr. Lytell and he passed back the change. A phone rang in back and Mr. Lytell gave a brief nod to the two and disappeared.

Not wanting to waste a moment, but not sure what to say, Tempest said hurriedly, “It must be nice for you to be back home. You go to school in California, I take it.”

“Yes, I go to UCLA, I’m a history major.”

“Really? That must be interesting. What area do you specialize in?”

Mentally giving him some brownie points for him not saying history was just memorizing names and dates, or asking what on earth you could do with a history major (even if he was thinking it) she replied, “US history, especially the Civil War era. My family’s farm was a stop on the Underground Railroad and when I took history as a requirement when I was a freshman, I don’t know, it just kind of came alive for me. How are you liking Sleepyside?”

“It seems like a very nice town,” Tempest said cautiously. “I have never lived in a small town before. Does everyone really know everyone? Sure seems like it.”

She considered. “Well... Not exactly, but my family’s farm is really close to this store, I’ve been coming here all my life. Mr. Lytell is nice deep down, but he is a person with strong opinions.”

“Yes, I hope he looks upon Canadians more favorably than Californians.”

“Oh, he likes you. I have never seen him warm to anyone so quickly.”

Tempest raised his eyebrows and looked quizzical, but Trixie insisted, “No really, that was wild enthusiasm, he practically invited you back!”

“I would be flattered, but I think it is because I wiped my feet before I can in,” Tempest laughed. “A customer just tracked snow all over the linoleum.”

“Oh yes, cleanliness is definitely a plus. And you’re quiet. He used to hate my big loud voice. ‘You’re a harum scarum teenager, Trixie Belden’," she said in a creaky voice and waggled her finger comically. She shook her head, smiling ruefully. “I didn’t even know what harum scarum meant. I suppose I was, though.   But I am reformed now,”she added hastily and more seriously than seemed warranted.

“Is that why you went to school so far away from home? To learn decorum from the weirdoes in California?” he said, more charmed by her every minute.

Trixie was suddenly very still. Tempest felt he had trespassed somehow. But she answered readily enough, “I started school here, but I changed my major and just had to basically start over again. Seemed like a good idea to try it in a new a different environment.”

“I guess you picked a good place. I loved California, I had a holiday there about two years ago in Newport Beach. The people there were great, so relaxed and carefree. And the sunshine and the ocean. I would love to go back there after, well sometime.” He had been going to say after Olympics, but he didn’t want to sound like he was showing off. She was listening politely while he was babbling like a fool, but she looked a little sad. He decided to take the plunge. Even if she said no, maybe it would distract her from whatever he’d said to upset her.

“Trixie, I was wondering,” he swallowed and spoke in a stronger tone, “Would you like to go see that play your friend is in? It’s really quite funny, at least the movie is. I’m sure the play is too. Are you free tomorrow night?” He waited nervously for her answer. She looked bemused, of all things. After a slight hesitation, however, she answered.

“I would love to, thank you! That really sounds like fun.”

He felt his smile get really big. “Really? I mean, thank you, that is great. Now, according to the playbill, which I just happen to have,” He pulled the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. “it starts at 8:00 If I pick you up at 6, would we have time to grab a quick bite and get to White Plains?”

“If you don’t have anywhere in mind, there’s a good diner in town that serves quickly. It was our hang out in high school, though I may meet more old friends." she warned him

Her smile cause his heart to jolt, but he forced himself to be coherent. “Sounds perfect. Where do you live?”

She was giving him directions to her home, Crabapple Farm, when Jim Frayne and Mr. Lytell came in the store through the back door.

Tempest knew he was still smiling too broadly, but he couldn’t help it. He hoped he would be able to concentrate back at the rink.

“Thanks,” he said to Trixie. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then!”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Her cheeks were a little flushed but she did not look self conscious in front of Jim, which was a good sign.  He thought it was a good sign, anyway. He moved to the door and turned.

“I’m looking forward to it too,” His eyes met hers and time seemed to stop for just a fraction of a second. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He paused with his hand on the knob and said , “Good bye, Mr. Lytell, it was nice to meet you. Nice to see you again, Mr. Frayne.” He felt a laugh rising up, at calling Jim by his surname and title like he did the elderly Mr. Lytell, but Jim had called him “Mr. Smith” earlier. He sternly suppressed the laugh, waved to the three, and got out of there so he could savor the thought of tomorrow night in peace. He put the batteries in his Discman and listened to Ode to Joy as he walked back to Glen Road Inn.

Chapter 10

Maybe just one more coat of mascara, Trixie decided. Wielding the wand
cautiously, she delicately brushed her lashes once, twice... “Darn it!” she exclaimed, as she poked herself in the eye. Was she in college or junior  high, for crying out loud? Impatiently, she snatched a piece of Kleenex and  blotted the tiny flecks of mascara that dotted her cheek.

“I always thought make up was a waste of time,” she muttered to herself.   “and so it is, but I wish I were more of an expert than this!” She risked a  glance in the mirror and moaned. She looked awful. Her hair looked frizzy,   her eye was red and watery, and she had wiped away her blush on one cheek, so she looked unbalanced. Growling, “Unbalanced in more ways than one,” she grabbed a wash cloth and scrubbed everything off.

Well, thank goodness she’d had the sense to start getting ready for the date   early. She had time to start all over before Tempest would get here. Frazzled   as she was, a little smile curved her lips as she reassembled her moisturizer, base, blush, etc. etc. At least she’d had Honey and Di to tutor her in the fine art of make up. Most of the time she didn’t bother, but she could put together a decent look if necessary. And tonight, well, it was necessary.

With the concentration of a diamond cutter, she raised that stupid mascara wand again and held it close to her eye. The phone in the hall shrilled loudly. Trixe jumped and dropped the wand on the fluffy bathroom rug.

“And you can just stay there!”she yelled at it. Too bad she hadn’t dropped it in the toilet. 

“Problems, Trix?” Bob stood in the open doorway.

“No, everything is just dandy,” Trixie replied through her teeth.

“OK. I guess all girls swear, yell, and throw make up when they are getting ready for a hot date.”

“Yes they do. You have to learn sometime, Bob. This is how girls always get ready. Now, may I please have some privacy?”

“Sure, should I tell Honey to call back?”

“Honey!” Trixie gasped and grabbed the hall phone. Bob lingered a moment as she spoke to her best friend eagerly,
 
"Honey?"
 
"Trixie, it is so good to hear your voice! I have missed you so much!"
 
"Well, where the heck are you? Hanging around in New York City, having the gall to work?" Tixie laughed "If you were on the six year plan like me, you would have Christmas vacations! Think about it!"
 
Honey's soft voice was as sweet as her name,  "Rub it in, Trixie. Believe me, I am so ready for a holiday I could scream. I have been spending the last two weeks preparing for an audit. I haven't done any fun work in ages!"
 
"Doing the accounting. Wow, the glamour of the PI! How do you stand it? More important, when are you coming home?"
 
“We are not going to take on any more till after the audit, so I can play! I'll be home by 10 or so. Di is coming with me, so you better be ready to, what was it Hallie used to say, ‘giggle and gab’?"
 
Honey's tone was light, but Trixie responded seriously, "That sounds like heaven, Honey. I love California, but I miss my best friends so much!"
 
"Oh, do you have something special to talk about?" Honey's voice suddenly sounded overly casual. Trixie started to speak, but Honey rushed on, "Have you seen Jim yet? He is such a workaholic, but he said he was going to move heaven and earth to see you as soon as you got back."
 
"Well, he didn't come to the airport, but we had breakfast yesterday and took the horses out. That's not bad for a workaholic."
 
"No, I guess not," said Honey. Trixe thought she almost sounded disappointed, but Honey went on quickly, "So, what's up with you, got any big plans to celebrate the end of finals?"
 
Trixie found herself smiling involuntarily as she prepared to tell Honey about Tempest and her date for tonight. Her date for tonight! The hall clock said 6:00! Oh no, she looked like a hag and Tempest would be here anytime! As if on cue, the doorbell rang.
 
"Honey, I have a date tonight!" she wailed. "That must be him right now and I look awful!"
 
Honey gave a tiny but excited scream, "You've got a date, that was quick work. Well, I don't have to see you to know you look beautiful to him! Just go out and have a great time! And I want to hear all the details tomorrow! I'll let you go for now! Bye!"
 
"Bye, I will, see you," babbled Trixie as she slammed down the phone and whipped back into the bathroom. Hoping that that it was the Fuller Brush Man at the door, she finger-combed her curls, noting with relief that they had calmed down and her eye was no longer red. She stared at the girl in the mirror a minute. Not so great, but not terrible either. She noticed her reflection was smiling.
 
"Trixie," Moms, more polite than Bob, knocked gently on the open door, "Your date is here."
 
"OK, thanks Moms." Trixie hated keeping people waiting and she didn't want to be late for the play so she turned from the mirror. “Tempest will just have to take me as I am” she said to herself. “I am sure like all guys, he prefers punctuality to glamor.”
 
Tempest was talking hockey with Bob. Actually he was listening with interest as Bob described the Ice Dawgs’ strategy in their last game. Trixie paused on the bottom stair, suddenly panicking. Tempest looked very handsome in a soft gray sweater over a white T shirt. His good looks were understated but made such a powerful impact on Trixie so that she was tempted to run upstairs and throw on some makeup after all.
 
Introducing her parents and making small talk helped calm her down till they went out to Tempest’s car. Their evening started off with a bang. As Tempest started the car, Metallica blasted from the CD player causing Trixie to jump. Tempest jumped too, and hastily turned it off, apologizing. But things went more smoothly. after that. Over Wimpy burgers, they chatted more about California, and about favorite teachers, and movies. The play was surprisingly good, and Jane, playing the part of Manuela, was very funny. Trixie did find that sitting in close proximity to Tempest was somewhat distracting at times. He had an attractive profile and she kept glancing over to see if his eyelashes were really that long or if it was a trick of the shadows. After the play, they walked through the gaily decorated streets to an equally decorated coffeehouse.

"So, did you like it? Tempest asked when they were seated with hot drinks in front of them. “I thought your friend was quite good."
 
"It was really good, and so was Jane. I hadn't realized how funny she is. I mean as an actress," she added hastily. "I liked the music, too. Who wrote it? George Gershwin?"
 
"Cole Porter. Very fun, eh?"
 
Trixie smiled. Tempest did not have a strong Canadian accent, but you could hear it when he said ‘eh’ or words like ‘about’ "The whole thing was fun. I haven't seen too many musicals. You said yourgrandmother got you interested in them?"
 
He considered for a moment as he sipped his green tea. "Actually I always resented having to sit through them. You know how it is when you're a kid and someone tells you have to do something? She liked to make jokes about it. She'd say 'Oh, skate to L'il Abner' or some really awful thing." He rolled his eyes but his voice saddened as he continued "Of course, now I regret that, she was killed in a car accident a couple of years ago. I would have done it eventually, but she never got to see it. Well, not L’il Abner, that is horrible, but The Pirate wouldn't be too bad." he added laughing a little.
 
His laugh didn’t fool Trixie "I’m sorry. You must miss her," she said.

"Yeah I do. My grandmother took me to the rink and to competitions and stuff. She was great, I really owe my career to her. And my dad, too, he came as much as he could. Your parents seemed really cool, too”
 
“Moms and Dad are great, I...”
 
"It is! It’s Tempest Smith. Omigod!" Trixe stopped in mid sentence as two extremely slim, fashionably dressed, and perfectly coifed teenage girls paused next to their table.
 
One of them gushed "I think you are so great! You are like so great with your quad! I was totally screaming when you won worlds! Could I get your autograph?”

He smiled at the girls and signed the take-out menus they had grabbed.

“I skate too,” the blonde one babbled. “I skate at Ice Palace here in White Plains, it has been there forever, I skate synchro, you know?”

The other girl looked at Trixie. “Can I have your autograph, too? Are you a skater too?”

Trying to hide her amusement, Trixie replied, “No, no, just a friend” and was more amused when the girl’s face fell. She proceeded to ignore Trixie and fired off a series questions at Tempest.

He chatted with the girls a few minutes longer about synchro, (whatever that was) told them Tempest was his real name, and that he was excited to be getting ready for the Olympics. After a few minutes he adroitly managed to move them on their way.

“Does that happen often?’ Trixie asked lightly, but feeling somewhat out of her depth.

He took a deep breath. “Not so much here in the states. I am really sorry, I hope it wasn’t too annoying”

Startled, she echoed, “Annoying, no, why should it be?”

“It’s, well, I don’t know. I know it is a nuisance to others. But when people take the time to tell you... I sound like an idiot, I’m sorry. Would you like another latte?”

“No, thanks, I’ll probably be up all night as it is. Shall we go?” Trixie was perplexed. The girls had been respectful and pleasant. Tempest had been light hearted and funny the whole evening, but now he seemed rattled.

He helped her with her coat and guided her out of the coffeehouse, past the girls, who were now sitting with a middle aged woman who was speaking in emphatic hisses on a cell phone.

They walked toward Tempest’s car in silence. As he held the door open for her, she spoke abruptly.

“What did those girls do that bothered you so much? Is there something I can do to help?”

“Trixie, I’m sorry. I’m fine. They didn’t do anything wrong. It is so hard to explain.”

The two stood between his CRV and a pale Mercedes. Tempest stared at the twinkling lights on a nearby tree for a moment. His breath hung in the frosty air.

“This kind of thing does happen, in varying degrees. It is so hard to explain. Skating is a sport where you subject yourself to really intense criticism. It, it can take a toll, some times. Sometimes you question your own motives or your direction. So when you hear kids like that who like what you are doing, it really means a lot.”

He shrugged and started to unlock the car, but seemed like he had more on his mind. Trixie murmured, “But there is a downside?”

He laughed shortly. “Well, yes, you saw it. We were having a nice conversation, and got interrupted. I am pretty much used to it, but I know it is so frustrating for friends and, well friends. Anyway, what I am trying to say is, well,” He spoke softly, “I hope it won’t scare you away. I had a really good time with you tonight. I’d really like to see you again.”

Trixie’s heart took a strange leap at his words and intense gaze “I don’t scare that easy, Tempest.”

He smiled, but his eyes were serious. "You don't know how glad I am to hear that," he whispered and then he kissed her. In the some part of her mind she wondered if the world had stopped or if it was whirling faster than usual.  Then the kiss deepened and she stopped wondering about anything.

The kiss only ended when a blinding flash started them both. They pulled apart and Trixie saw the last thing in the world she expected, a photographer with his camera raised. As she gasped, the flash went off again. She groaned. Standing next the photographer was Paul Trent.

To Be Continued

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