A Note from the author: Some of you may be disappointed by the absence of certain characters, but I intend to write another story that takes place immediately after this one and those characters, particularly one of them, will be more prominent. Thank you. And, of course, Trixie Belden is a trademark of Random House and this story is not meant to infringe on any copyrights.
The Windy City Mystery
by Writer X
"Jeepers, Di," said Trixie Belden, "it really is awfully nice of your father’s cousin to invite us all to Chicago."
Diana Lynch smiled at her freckle-faced friend who was excitedly peering out the window of the plane as it circled O’Hare airport. "She’s just glad that Dad is finally coming out for a visit. I think she’s very lonely since her son left home and is looking forward to having some houseguests."
"Some houseguests?" laughed Honey, from the other side of Diana. "Five teenagers! Plus your parents and the twins. And the twins, too, of course."
Di giggled. "I guess Larry and Terry and the girls are a bit much on top of the rest of us. But Cousin Mae insists she doesn’t mind."
"Are you sure she’ll have room to put us all up?" asked Honey.
"Are you sure she’ll have the patience to put up with us all, you mean!" Trixie chuckled.
"She claims she does," Di said, "Her house in Oak Park is pretty big. It might have been a tight squeeze if the others had come along, too."
"Oh, poor Brian and Dan," exclaimed Trixie, "missing out on the Windy City!"
Trixie, Di, and Honey were all members of the Bob-Whites of the Glen. The other Bob-Whites were Jim Frayne, Honey’s adopted brother, Brian and Mart, Trixie’s brothers, and Dan Mangan. The seven teenagers had their own clubhouse on Jim and Honey’s parents’ estate. They wore matching red jackets with B.W.G. stitched on the back which Honey, an expert seamstress, had made. The Bob-Whites had lots of fun together, but they also worked very hard supporting good causes.
"Well, Dan couldn’t leave his work with Mr. Maypenny," Honey pointed out, "and Brian is pretty excited about his trip to Mexico. I bet he isn’t missing this at all."
"I suppose," Trixie said reluctantly. "I still wish he and Dan were with us."
"What? And leave Bobby without a friend?" Honey said.
Dan had promised to visit the youngest Belden who was bound to be lonely with his brothers and sister gone. Not to mention Larry and Terry who were his playmates would also be away.
Trixie was unable to answer as the plane landed.
Trixie excitedly peered out the window as the van made its way through the city.
"Gosh, there’s so much to do here!" Trixie said. "What shall we do first?"
"We haven’t even gotten to Mrs. Whitton’s house, yet, Trix," Jim said with a smile.
"Gleeps! I know, I just can’t wait!" Trixie grinned at him.
Jim thought how pretty Trixie looked when she was flushed with excitement.
"First thing I want to do is go to the Art Institute," Diana said.
"Paintings?" Trixie said doubtfully. "Gee, I know you like art, Di, but do we have to do that first?"
"Trixie," Jim warned.
"Oh, of course, if that’s what you want, I know we’ll have a good time!" Trixie rushed the words out, feeling ashamed because after all, it was Di’s family who made the trip possible and her cousin who was putting them up.
Di shrugged. "It’s okay, Trixie. You don’t have to go. We can split up and do whatever we want."
"Well, I think the Art Institute would be a great place to visit," Honey interjected. "And Trixie does like art."
"Yeah, remember when you won that poster contest, my artistically gifted sibling?" Mart said "Ah, that was a glorious day!"
Trixie blushed. She usually could take Mart’s teasing, but that was an embarrassing disappointment and she didn’t like to be reminded of it.
Jim reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. Her spirits rose. She tossed back her blonde curls and decided to ignore Mart.
The van pulled into the driveway of Mrs. Whitton’s large brick bungalow home about fifteen minutes after that and Trixie forgot all about Mart’s teasing as the Bob-Whites scrambled for their luggage.
"I have to go potty," Larry wailed for about the seventh time in ten minutes.
"Yes, as soon as we get inside," Mrs. Lynch told him. "Thank goodness, we’re here! Diana, help the girls, won’t you?"
"Poor Mrs. Whitton," Jim remarked as he surveyed the group, "little does she know that an army is about to descend upon her." As he spoke those words, a woman came out of the house.
"It’s about time!"
"Hello, Cousin Mae," Mrs. Lynch said as Larry tugged at her hand and moaned.
"It’s good to see you all," Mae Whitton said, "but what the heck is the matter with the little boy?"
"Potty!" Larry whined, squirming.
"First door on the right when you get inside," Mrs. Whitton said.
"Thank you," said Mrs. Lynch, hurrying along with Larry.
"I got to go, too!" Terry shouted. "Real bad!"
"I’d better take him inside," Mr. Lynch said. "You kids can manage the bags?"
"Sure," Jim said.
Mr. Lynch grabbed Terry’s hand and followed his wife into the house.
"Diana! You look prettier than ever!" Mrs. Whitton exclaimed.
"Thank you, Cousin Mae," Di said, blushing. "You look very well."
"Oh, pish-posh," scoffed the old woman, "I’m scrawny and dried-up! But I guess my innards are doing fine."
Mart shot a look at Jim who was trying unsuccessfully to suppress a smile.
"So, introduce me! You! Young man with the red hair! What’s your name?"
"Uh, I’m Jim Frayne." Jim was uncharacteristically flustered.
"Oh yes, Cousin Mae," Di said, "These are my friends Jim Frayne and his sister Honey Wheeler, and Mart and Trixie Belden."
"Humph," Mrs. Whitton brushed back a strand of white hair and peered at the Beldens. "You two look enough alike to be twins if both of you were boys." As Mart shot a scornful look at Trixie, she added, "Or girls."
Mart’s face turned red..
"We should get these bags inside," Jim said and he nodded at Mart.
"Now, here are my pretty twins," Mrs. Whitton said to the little girls who shyly hung on to Di. "Let’s all go inside and get settled. I have fresh baked cookies, if anyone wants them."
The mention of cookies squashed any qualms the twin girls had about this strange place and they both bobbed their heads at Mrs. Whitton excitedly.
"Well, come along then," she said holding out her hands. The girls latched on and happily went into the house with their new found friend.
"She’s quite a character," Trixie said to her two best friends. "I think I’m going to like her!"
"I already do!" Honey laughed. With that, the three girls picked up their bags and went inside.
"Oh, I’m stuffed!" Mart announced. "Mrs. Whitton, you are a gastronomical genius!"
"Speak English, Mart!" Trixie said with a frown.
"He says I’m a good cook," Mrs. Whitton told her. "And he’s right. But my late husband was even better. He studied at the Cordon Bleu."
"Was he a chef?" asked Honey.
"Not professionally." Mrs. Whitton smiled. "He was an accountant, believe it or not. Had his own firm. But he loved to cook. It was a passion for him. I’ve lost a few pounds since he passed away."
"He was a wonderful gourmet," agreed Mr. Lynch. "I remember that raspberry mousse he made when I was here last. I still dream about it!"
"How long ago was that?" Trixie asked.
"It was right before Henry had his stroke, wasn’t it?" Mrs. Whitton recalled. "Seven years ago."
"Yes," Mr. Lynch said somberly, "It was the last time I ever saw him. I’m sorry we haven’t been to see you since the funeral, Mae."
"Well, you’re young and your life is busy," Mrs. Whitton said waving her hand. "I understand. It does get lonely here though, now that Todd has moved."
"Where’s he living now?" Mrs. Lynch asked.
"Oh, he’s in California. I’m not really sure what he’s doing there. He thinks he’ll find his fortune, I expect. I haven’t heard from him since my birthday last month. I call him, but he’s never home. I hate those darn answering machines!"
"I guess you’d never consider leaving the Chicago area," Mr. Lynch said.
"Not on your life! Oh, I wish Todd were still here. It was kind of scary when that prowler was seen around here, but this is my home and I’m going to stay until I die."
"Prowler?" Mrs. Lynch looked alarmed.
Trixie leaned over so she could hear better.
"Oh, it was nothing," Mrs. Whitton declared. "Somebody snooping about a few weeks ago. The neighbor called the police when she spotted him. He hasn’t been back."
"It makes me nervous," Mrs. Lynch said, looking over at her twins.
"Now, don’t you worry," Mrs. Whitton said. "The police weren’t too concerned about it."
Trixie felt some prickles of excitement on the back of her neck. She tried to look nonchalant, but she couldn’t fool Mart.
"Oh no," he groaned. "She’s thinking that this prowler business is very mysterious."
"I am not," Trixie said, reddening.
The Bob-Whites volunteered to clear the table and do the dishes while the adults dealt with the twins and then settled down to talk more.
"What are we going to do tomorrow?" Trixie asked as she dried a plate.
"Eat breakfast," Mart said. "I can hardly wait. Di says Cousin Mae makes killer omelets."
"I thought you were stuffed?" Jim said with a raised eyebrow.
"Just planning ahead," Mart said.
"That’s what I’m trying to do, " Trixie said. "Now, let’s plan."
Honey started putting away the flatware. "I thought we agreed it would be the Art Institute, Trixie."
"Um, yeah, but that can’t take up a whole day, can it?" Trixie glanced over at Di who was storing glasses in the cupboard.
"Oh, it probably could," Mart said. He snapped his dish towel at her hip.
"You don’t have to go, Trixie," Diana said quietly. "Nobody is going to force you, least of all me."
"No," Trixie cried, horrified that she might have hurt Di’s feelings, "I want to go! It’s just that I want to do so many things that I wonder how we will ever find the time!"
"Don’t worry, Trix," Jim said reassuringly, "we’ll be here for five more days. I think we can manage to cram everything into that time."
Trixie said nothing more. She didn’t want to risk sticking her foot in her mouth again.
Later, as the three girls prepared for bed in the room they were sharing, Di was very quiet. Trixie worried that she was mad at her. Trixie looked over at Honey with pleading eyes. Honey nodded slightly.
"Which of us will take the daybed and who will share the double?" asked Honey.
The bedroom the girls had been given was painted a lovely lilac color. There was a double bed on the wall with the closet and a daybed against the opposite wall. It also had a bay window with a window seat and a small writing desk near the door.
"I don’t mind sharing," Trixie said quickly.
"Do you want the daybed, Di?"
"That’s fine," mumbled Di, tossing her bathrobe onto the daybed.
"I can’t stand it!" Trixie exclaimed. "Di, please don’t be mad at me."
"I’m not mad at you," Diana said softly. "I guess I’m just disappointed. I’m not smart, Trixie. Not like you are with your detective work. But art is something I know and also am good at. I wanted to share it with my friends."
"Oh, Di!" Trixie wailed, feeling more ashamed than ever. "I’m sorry I was so selfish!"
"You’re not selfish," Honey said, putting an arm around Trixie, "you’re just a little--what would Mart say? Obtuse."
"That means I’m a dummy," Trixie said grimly. "I remember that one."
Di giggled. "Oh, I’m sorry, too, Trixie. And I promise you , the Art Institute will not take a whole day."
Di was right. The Bob-Whites spent a wonderful morning at the Art Institute. This was after they had filled up on Mrs. Whitton’s strawberry waffles. Mart was in heaven as he stacked his plate high with waffles and then drenched them in strawberry preserves.
Mrs. Whitton had commented about the Bob-Whites matching red jackets.
"It’s our club," Di explained. "The seven of us belong to it."
"Seven?" asked Mrs. Whitton.
"Oh, that’s right," Honey said, "You don't know Dan and Brian. They couldn’t come."
"Brian’s our brother," Trixie said. "He’s in Mexico as a student volunteer in a medical relief mission."
"He’s going to be a doctor," Di said. "It was really an honor to be selected for the program. They don’t let just anyone be a volunteer."
So, after the breakfast, the Bob-Whites took the van. Mrs. Whitton was giving the Lynches use of her car.
"I hardly drive it," she had said. "It needs the use."
Now, the Bob-Whites had finished their tour of the collections and Di asked everyone what their favorite works had been.
"Oh, I think I liked the miniature rooms the best," Honey said. "They were so detailed!"
"Oh, Honey, I can’t wait until we go to the Museum of Science and Industry. There’s something there you are going to love." Di refused to say anymore.
"Okay, I liked the photography collection," Mart said. "I’ve always admired Stieglitz."
Jim nudged Trixie. "How about your favorite, Trix?
She thought a minute. "I think…I think I liked the American art. But there was so much we didn’t get to see! Oh, Di, we really could have used an entire day and then some for this place!"
Di smiled. "Well, there are other things I want to see, too, Trixie. And my favorite part was the Asian art. It’s so graceful."
"I liked that stuff, too," Trixie said. "Gosh, I really liked everything more than I thought I would. And having you along was like having a professional tour guide, Di."
Trixie could see that the words meant a lot to Diana. Her violet eyes widened as she beamed at Trixie.
"The only thing wrong was that weird guy," Trixie continued. "I didn't like the way he kept following us."
"Sheesh!" Mart exclaimed. "He wasn't following us. He was looking at the art just like we were! Don't start imagining things."
Trixie decided to drop the matter. She turned to Jim. "Hey, what about you, Jim?" she asked. "You haven’t said what you liked most?"
"Watching your face was what I liked most," he said.
Trixie blushed.
"And I liked the American art collection, too," he added.
Now, that they were done at the Art Institute, Mart proclaimed he was famished.
"I swear, Mart," Jim said in amazement, "your stomach must be a bottomless pit!"
After much debate, they agreed on hamburgers for lunch.
"Mmm, that hits the spot," said Mart as he chowed down on a juicy burger.
"It’s good, but nothing can beat Moms’ burgers!" Trixie said. She bit into her hamburger and juice dribbled down her chin.
"Lovely," Mart said.
Trixie wiped her chin with her napkin and shot Mart a deadly look. Then she looked over at Honey who was juice-free as usual.
"Do you think we can make another museum today?" Honey asked.
"Oh, I think so," Di said. "It’s still very early. Let’s go to the Field museum and then call it a day."
As they left the restaurant, Trixie clutched Honey’s arm. "There he is again!" she gasped.
"Who?" Honey glanced where Trixie’s gaze was focused.
"The man! Oh, he’s disappeared now," Trixie said. "It was the man who was following us around the galleries. He followed us here, Honey!"
"Oh, Trix, are you sure?" Honey asked, frowning.
"Positive! He's so creepy with those horn-rimmed glasses and scraggly beard. And he has that weird hat pulled down over his head."
Honey's hazel eyes showed concern. "Oh, I hope you're wrong! Why would we he follow us? You don't think he's a pickpocket?"
Trixie knew Honey was remembering their trip to London when someone had stolen her purse which contained a valuable necklace.
"Oh, probably not," Trixie said hurriedly. She didn't want to frighten her friend. "It's most likely a coincidence that he showed up here, too."
Honey's worry faded from her face. "Oh, yes," she said with relief, "I bet a lot of people from the Art Institute come here to eat."
"Hey, you guys!" Mart called back to them. "What's keeping you? I want to see some dinosaur bones!"
The two girls hurried to catch up to the others.
Maybe it was just a coincidence, thought Trixie, But I still think there was something mysterious about that man.
After spending the day at the Art Institute and the Field Museum, the Bob-Whites returned to Mrs. Whitton's feeling tired but happy. They were also hungry again and insisted that Mrs. Whitton allow them to help her with dinner.
"After all, Mrs. Whitton," Honey said, "it isn't right that you should have to cook for so many people by yourself. Perhaps, we should order take-out."
"Oh, pish-posh," sniffed Mrs. Whitton, "I can cook in my sleep, Miss Honey Wheeler. And Diana's parents are dining out tonight and the twins have all eaten, so it's just the six of us for dinner."
"But we are going to help you," Jim said firmly.
Mrs. Whitton crinkled her eyes at Jim. "Well," she said, at last, "if you must. Young man, you may set the table. Use placemats! Honey, bring me that recipe box sitting behind you on the counter."
Jim and Honey obeyed instantly. Honey handed the box to Mrs. Whitton.
"I think Chicken à la Henry will suit us tonight," Mrs. Whitton said, flipping through the recipe cards. "It's fast and easy to make. My husband's own recipe, you know. Very good."
"Did Mr. Whitton have a lot of original recipes?" asked Honey.
"Trixie, get me some tomatoes from that basket," commanded Mrs. Whitton. She turned back to Honey. "Oh, yes, he was so creative! He placed third in a bake-off once. I think that was his one real disappointment. He wanted so badly to win one of those contests and get some recognition for his recipes. He even dreamed of publishing a cookbook of them. He was always working on new ones. Of course, I was the official taster." The old woman grinned. "Like I said before, I have lost a few pounds since then."
Mart popped back into the kitchen. He'd been upstairs helping Di with the twins.
"Well, young man," said Mrs. Whitton, "hurry up, there are tomatoes to be sliced."
Mart bowed. "At your service," he said.
Mart and Trixie started working on the tomatoes while Honey helped Mrs. Whitton make the marinating sauce.
Trixie looked over at her brother who was methodically slicing up tomatoes. He had a funny mark near his lip. "Mart, what is that on your face?"
Mart paused and frowned at her. "What do you mean?" He reached up and touched his face.
"You have something--" Trixie stopped and peered closer at the mark. "Lipstick!" she hooted. "And the color is very familiar!"
Mart flushed red. He caught his reflection in the toaster oven and frantically wiped at his face.
"How are you coming with those tomatoes?" asked Mrs. Whitton. "I'm ready for them."
Chicken à la Henry was fabulous. Jim and Mart both had seconds and Honey asked if she could have a copy of the recipe.
"Why, certainly," said Mrs. Whitton, clapping her hands together. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it."
Trixie eyed the last piece of chicken, but she followed the lead of Honey and Di and finished only what was on her plate. She bemoaned the fact that sometimes it was hard being a girl, especially if you weren't naturally slim like Di and Honey.
That night, Trixie found it hard to sleep. She heard Honey’s even breathing beside her and could make out the soft snore of Diana across the room. She was tired, but her mind was racing. She couldn’t stop thinking of Mrs. Whitton’s prowler and the strange man who had seemed to follow them today.
She got out of bed and went over to the small desk. She’d bought some postcards today at the museum. She decided she would write Bobby a postcard. If she mailed it tomorrow, he ought to get it before the Bob-Whites returned to Sleepyside. He loved getting mail.
She flipped on the desk lamp and sat down.
Dear Bobby,
We are here in Chicago. We’re having a good time. Today we saw some dinosaur bones. Bet Reddy would like those! Hope you are keeping Reddy company. I miss you, and Moms and Dad. And Reddy, too.
Lots of love,
Trixie
She addressed the card and as she fumbled for a stamp, she heard a noise downstairs. It was a faint tinkling sound that she couldn't quite place.
Trixie glanced over at her friends. They were sleeping soundly. She left the room quietly and padded down the hall. She stood at the top of the stairs listening. There was a rustling coming from below. Someone was in the kitchen.
She carefully descended the stairs, trying to be as quiet as she could. It might just be one of the boys getting a snack. Yes, it was probably Mart, she reasoned. He might have dropped a fork, or maybe a glass and that was the noise she had heard.
She swallowed hard and then made her way towards the kitchen. She could see the kitchen light was off. She shivered in a draft of cool air.
Something’s wrong, she told herself. She knew she should go and wake Mr. Lynch or the boys, but she just kept walking.
A beam of light was moving in the kitchen. Someone with a flashlight. Without thinking she called out, "Who’s there?"
Suddenly the light shone on her face, blinding her. Then, there was only darkness. Before Trixie could scream, she felt herself being knocked over as someone rushed past her and out the back door.
As she landed, she yelped in pain. Her hand had hit something sharp. It dawned on her what had happened. The intruder had broken the small window on the back door and there was broken glass on the floor.
She stood up as carefully as she could to avoid anymore of the glass which was invisible to her in the darkness. Her hand throbbed as she searched for the light switch.
"Trixie?" Honey's voice came out of the darkness. "Are you down here?"
Trixie found the switch and light filled the room. She blinked rapidly.
"Oh my gosh!" Honey gasped. "What happened?"
"Someone broke in," Trixie said wearily. "He knocked me over in the dark."
"Trixie, your hand!" Honey rushed over to her friend.
Trixie looked down at her left hand. It was bleeding and there were tiny bits of glass peppering it.
"Come over to the sink with me," Honey ordered.
Trixie obeyed her friend and stood meekly as Honey set about washing away the glass and blood.
"We have to call the police," Trixie said.
"I will, " Honey said. "Hold this paper towel over your hand. I don't know where Mrs. Whitton keeps her first aid stuff."
Honey went to the phone and dialed 911 to report the break-in. Then, she went upstairs to wake the boys and the Lynches.
Everybody was upset at Trixie for being so foolish.
"Trix, you could have been hurt a lot worse," Jim said tightly. "When will you learn not to rush in dangerous situations."
Trixie felt tears stinging her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Sure, but next time you may not have a chance to be sorry," he snapped.
"What are we going to tell Moms and Dad?" Mart asked her angrily. "You should know better!"
Honey put an arm around Trixie. "Leave her alone," she told the boys. "She's terribly shaken."
"So am I, " Jim said and he stomped off.
Mrs. Whitton came over to Trixie. "How are you doing? Maybe you'd like something to drink or eat? The bandage feel okay?" Mrs. Whitton had bandaged Trixie's hand after declaring the wounds superficial.
"I'm fine," Trixie said. "The bandage is fine. Actually, my hand is only a little sore. I just want to go to bed."
"Well, young lady," Mr. Lynch said. "I'll have to call your parents tomorrow about this. I feel responsible for you." He turned to Mrs. Whitton. "The police are gone now. I'm going to board up the window."
"How's your wife?" asked Mrs. Whitton.
"Nervous," said Mr. Lynch. "She worries because of the children. I think tomorrow we should look into some sort of security for your home, Mae."
"I suppose we must," sighed Mrs. Whitton. "I used to feel so safe in this neighborhood. We've never had any real crime."
Honey and Trixie went back to their room.
"Diana's still with her mother, I guess," said Honey.
"I know I did a stupid thing, Honey," Trixie mumbled,"but why do Jim and Mart have to yell at me?"
"You know why," Honey said softly. "It's because they care about you. Couldn't you see how white Mart's face was when he saw your hand and the broken glass on the floor? Trixie, you scared him. And you scared Jim, too. And they aren't the only ones, either."
Trixie dropped down on to the bed and exhaled slowly. "I know. I feel terrible. When Moms and Dad hear about this--" Trixie looked up at Honey with tears in her blue eyes. "Oh, Honey, they'll be so worried and upset! And they are going to feel helpless being in Sleepyside while I'm here."
Honey hated to see her friend so distressed. "I'm sure Mr. Lynch will reassure them that you're okay. Everything will seem better in the morning, Trix. And Mart and Jim will have calmed down by then."
"I hope so." Trixie was exhausted. All she wanted to do now was sleep away the past couple of hours and not have to think anymore until tomorrow morning. "Good night," she said to Honey. She didn't hear if Honey responded, she just closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep.
When she awoke the next morning, she discovered she was alone in the room. The sun was shining brightly through the window. She turned to check the clock on the nightstand.
Nine-thirty! She jumped out of bed and winced as she forgetfully used her left hand to throw back the covers.
Hurriedly, she dressed, trying not to use the bandaged hand.
"There you are," Mrs. Whitton said with a smile as Trixie appeared. "We thought we should let you sleep. Hungry? I've been whipping up omelets for everyone."
Trixie smiled faintly. "Sure, Mrs. Whitton. I'd like that."
Honey pulled Trixie aside. "They called your parents," she said quietly. "Naturally, they were very upset and wanted to speak to you. But we thought you needed the rest. You should call them now, though."
Trixie gulped. She wasn't sure she could she was up to more admonitions.
As it turned out, her parents didn't scold her. They were just relieved to hear her voice.
"How is your hand?" asked Mrs. Belden with concern. "Did you clean out the cuts?"
"Honey and Mrs. Whitton took good care of my hand," Trixie assured her mother. "It's fine. Don't worry, Moms."
"Never tell a mother not to worry," Mrs. Belden sighed. "Oh, Bobby is tugging at my arm. He wants to talk to you."
"Trixie?" Bobby's excited voice came over the wire. "I caught a hairy spider! His name is George. And Reddy and me went to Mr. Maypenny's and had doughnuts. And Dan let me ride Brownie and we went patrolling together! And I saw a raccoon and three rabbits and Reddy almost caught one of the rabbits!"
"That's wonderful, Bobby," Trixie said quickly as Bobby paused for a breath. "I miss you lots. I'm sending you a postcard, okay?"
Mrs. Belden got back on the phone and after some more reassurances from Trixie, she finally said goodbye and they hung up.
"Maybe we should stay home today," Diana suggested as Trixie finished her breakfast. "I bet there's a lot we could do right here."
"That's fine by me," Mart agreed.
"What?" Trixie was surprised. "I don't want to hang around here all day thinking about what happened. I thought we were going to another museum."
"Are you sure, Trixie?" Honey asked. "We weren't sure you'd be up to it."
"I'm up to it, believe me. And I don't want this thing to ruin our trip!"
They went to the Museum of Science and Industry. It was in the same area they'd visited yesterday.
"Now, Honey," Di said with a sly look, "You're going to see what I meant."
They followed Diana. Honey squealed in delight. "Oh, how perfectly perfect! Look at it!"
"The Colleen Moore Fairy Castle," Di said. "I knew you'd love it!"
The Bob-Whites admired the miniature castle with its fairy tale themed rooms and amazing details. Around the castle, Santa Claus and his reindeer were in motionless flight.
"Wow," Mart said, reading about the exhibit. "Listen to this, the castle library contains miniature works by real people. A handwritten copy of George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue! Books handwritten by John Steinbeck, Noel Coward and so many others! How cool!"
But Mart's favorite exhibit was yet to come.
"Wow! It's the U-boat!" he shouted. "I'm going aboard."
"This is is the first enemy ship that the U.S. navy had captured since the War of 1812," Jim said as they strolled onto the sub.
"I don't know how anyone could have lived in here!" Honey said, shivering. "It's so cramped. I'd feel positively suffocated!"
Jim caught Trixie's arm as they were exiting the U-boat. "Trix," he said in a low voice. "I'm sorry I yelled at you last night. The whole thing was so scary. When I think about what might have happened to you, I go crazy."
"I know, Jim," she said apologetically, "I should have been smarter. I'm just too impulsive, I guess."
Jim sighed and gave her a smile. "The really weird thing is that I kind of like that impulsive side. Just not when it takes you into dark places with bad people."
"Next time, I'll get help before I rush in," she promised.
He groaned and shook his head slowly. "Next time, she says! I hope there never is a next time, Trixie."
After the museum, they found a place to eat.
"Yum," Mart said. "Pizza, Chicago-style!" He grabbed another square.
As the others chattered and laughed, Trixie was silent. She was thinking about the mysterious events surrounding this trip to Chicago.
Jim noticed her quietness. "Penny for your thoughts," he said.
"Just thinking about Moms and Dad back home," she lied and then she immediately felt ashamed. But she knew Jim would not want to hear what she was really thinking.
Jim gave her a strange look and then turned away.
They spent the rest of the afternoon walking along the lake front and doing a little souvenir shopping. And then it was back to Mrs. Whitton's in Oak Park and another fabulous dinner after which Honey and Di suggested a game of charades.
"If you guys don't mind," said Trixie, "I think I'll go upstairs and read. I'm a little tired."
In her room, Trixie pulled out the Lucy Radcliffe novel she'd brought along to read on the plane. She hadn't read a single page.
She curled up on the window seat and began to read about Lucy's Adventure in Cairo.
Chapter One
I was trapped. There was no way out. When I arrived in Cairo two days ago on a mission to retrieve the secret formula, I had no idea I would end up in a tomb.
"So, Miss Radcliffe," the Doctor sneered at me, "it is time for us to say goodbye. Parting is such sweet sorrow."
"You won't get away with it," I said coldly. "My partner will stop you."
The Doctor gave a harsh laugh. "Perhaps, but he won't save you, my red-haired beauty. You are going to be sealed in here for the next hundred years. That beautiful peaches-and-cream complexion will rot away. There'll be nothing left of you except bones."
The Doctor backed away, his gun still trained on me. He reached the entrance and pulled the lever.
Slowly, the door slid down as the sand ran out.
"This is the end of Lucy Radcliffe," the Doctor cackled.
"Don't bet on it, Doctor," Trixie said aloud. Mr. Appleton had not lost his touch; Trixie eagerly read on to discover how Lucy would get herself out of this jam.
Trixie was so engrossed in her book that she was startled when suddenly she heard Honey say her name.
"Jeepers, Honey," Trixie said breathlessly, "I was just reading about Lucy being trapped in a pit with slithering poisonous snakes and then you come in!"
"Sorry, if I scared you," Honey said with a grin. "Although, Trixie Belden usually isn't afraid of much. I came up to make sure you were okay. I knew you couldn't really be tired so early."
Trixie closed her book. "Well, I just wanted to be alone," Trixie said. "I thought reading would get my mind off of everything."
"You didn't see that man today?" asked Honey.
"Why, no," Trixie said in surprise. "Did you?"
"No, I just thought you seemed a little distracted today."
"Well, I was thinking about that man. I really think he was following us, though I can't imagine why. And I've been wondering about the prowler. What could he be after?"
"I guess it is a little odd that someone would be searching a kitchen," admitted Honey. "Of course, people do hide valuables in the kitchen sometimes thinking they will fool crooks."
"I don't know," Trixie said. "What kind of valuables would Mrs. Whitton have? I mean, she's financially comfortable, but she's not really the diamond jewelry type, is she?"
"No," agreed Honey. "She told us she was born and raised on a farm Down State and that it made her grow up to be a very practical person."
Trixie sighed and swung her legs down from the window seat, accidentally banging her stockinged foot against the wood paneled front. "Ouch," she said.
"Uh-oh," Honey said. "I think you damaged one of the panels."
"Gleeps!" Trixie moaned, squatting down to inspect the panel. "I think I knocked it loose. It looks like I could lift the panel right off." She pulled at the piece of wood.
"Trixie, I don't think you should--" but it was too late. The panel popped off into Trixie's hands.
Trixie peered into the space. "Honey, there's something in here," she said excitedly. She reached in and came out with a box. "What do you make of this?"
"It's one of those fireproof boxes," Honey said. "It must belong to Mrs. Whitton."
"Oh, Honey," Trixie said, her voice trembling, "I have a feeling that whatever is in this box is what the prowler was after!"
"Well, maybe it does contain something valuable," Honey said, her eyes widening. "Maybe money?"
"There's only one way to find out," said Trixie. "I hope it isn't locked." She flipped the two small latches.
"Trixie, you can't--" Honey began to protest.
The lid lifted easily. "It's opened!" Trixie exclaimed.
Honey forgot about her privacy concerns and leaned over Trixie's shoulder. "What's in it?"
Trixie's spirits fell. "Recipes," she said disappointedly. "Just recipes."
"Oh my goodness!" Mrs. Whitton exclaimed when Trixie showed her the discovery. "Henry's recipes! So, he hid them inside the window seat, did he? He could be a silly goose sometimes."
Mart shook his head. "I don't get it," he said. "Why would anyone hide recipes?"
"These were his test recipes, Mart," said Mrs. Whitton. "Here's the one for Blueberry Marble Cheesecake."
"Sounds yummy," Di said. "But I'm just as confused as Mart. Why did Cousin Henry hide them?"
"These were recipes he hoped would turn into prizewinners," explained Mrs. Whitton. "He worked hard trying to perfect them and I guess he was afraid something might happen to them." She flipped through the recipes. "Look, this one is a good example. Fillets of Sole Tarragon--with a twist. He even invited Leon Morley over for dinner one evening to get an expert opinion on this one. Leon was a past judge of several cook-offs and is also a very prominent food critic."
"So, what was the verdict?" asked Jim.
"It was a big success," Mrs. Whitton replied. "Leon thought it was superb, although Henry wanted to tinker with it some more. He was such a perfectionist when it came to cooking. I suppose this recipe is the one he would have entered in the cook-off, but he passed away several months before and never got the chance."
"Do you think it would have won?" asked Honey.
"Maybe. But no recipe is a sure thing. Trixie, you look a little glum, if I may say so."
Trixie shrugged. "I thought the box would be filled with something valuable."
Mrs. Whitton laughed and patted Trixie's good hand. "If it's any consolation, these recipes are very valuable to me. I haven't seen them in seven years and I'd wondered where they'd gotten to. Thank you, Trixie."
Later as the girls readied for bed, Honey sighed at Trixie. "I know you're disappointed, but frankly I'm glad it wasn't diamonds or money. Maybe that means the prowler wasn't looking for anything specific and this house was just a random choice."
"Hmph." Trixie ran a comb vigorously through her short blonde locks. "If it was a random choice why did the prowler try to break in a few weeks ago?"
"He didn't try to break in," Di pointed out. "He was prowling, not burgling. He was probably cruising the joint."
"Casing the joint," Trixie corrected.
"Casing the joint," repeated Di. "Anyhow, we don't have to worry anymore. Dad replaced the window with unbreakable glass, put deadbolts on all the doors, and tomorrow some people are coming to install motion detectors. Besides, the police say he probably wouldn't try this house again anytime soon."
"The police," Trixie said with contempt. "The police didn't think Mrs. Whitton should be concerned over the prowler in the first place and then look what happened!"
"I don't want to think about the prowler anymore," Honey said. "I'm just starting to feel safe again."
Trixie didn't say anything more. She listened quietly as Di and Honey reviewed the wonderful day the Bob-Whites had spent and talked about the fun they would have tomorrow.
I don't care what anyone else thinks, thought Trixie, There's a mystery here and I'm going to solve it.
When the Bob-Whites returned from sight-seeing the next afternoon, they discovered Mrs. Whitton in a cheerful frenzy of activity.
"You'll never guess it!" she told them. "My son is here! He came out from California to see me. He's out on the deck with your parents, Di, watching the twins running around the yard. I'm just trying to make him comfortable in the office."
"Maybe Mart and I should give up our room," Jim suggested.
"Now, don't fret," Mrs. Whitton said. "The office has a futon that is perfectly fine for sleeping. Todd doesn't mind one bit."
"This is a surprise visit, I take it," Trixie said.
"It certainly is! But it's a marvelous surprise." Mrs. Whitton beamed at her.
"Let's go introduce ourselves to him," said Honey.
The Bob-Whites went out to the deck where Mr. and Mrs. Lynch sat drinking lemonade with a large man whose hairline was rapidly receding. What hair he did have was a pale blond, so pale it was almost white.
"There you are!" Mr. Lynch greeted the B.W.G.s. "Todd, you remember our daughter, Diana."
Todd Whitton stood up and extended a beefy hand to Di. "You've certainly grown up since I last saw you," he said. His voice was surprisingly squeaky for a man of his size. "And you've grown up lovely, Diana."
"Thank you," Di said, her cheeks flushing pink.
"And these are your friends, I take it," Todd said, surveying the Bob-Whites.
"I'm Jim," Jim told him,"and this is my sister Honey. And these are Mart and Trixie Belden."
"Nice to meet you all," Todd said. "Trixie, I hear you had quite an adventure the other night."
Trixie nodded. She didn't like Todd Whitton. His shockingly light blue eyes seemed to dart from one person to another as if he was searching for something in their faces.
"It was more like a scare than an adventure," Mrs. Lynch said.
"I'm sure it was terrifying for such a young girl," agreed Todd.
"Trixie doesn't scare easily," Honey told him. "She's been in worse situations than that one."
Trixie smiled at her best friend. "You should know, Honey," she said. "You were in some of those situations with me."
"What's this all about?" Todd asked with a frown.
"It's about my sister," Mart said with a sigh. "She has a habit of trying to solve mysteries and usually ends up in trouble."
"Trixie has solved many mysteries," defended Honey. "She and I are going to have our own detective agency one day."
"Is that right?" Todd seemed amused.
"That's right," Jim said firmly. "Trixie and Honey have solved crimes that the police couldn't sometimes."
"It is true," Mr. Lynch agreed. "Todd, my wife and I owe Trixie for quite a few things such as helping expose an impostor."
"Yes." Mrs. Lynch smiled over at Trixie. "If it weren't for Trixie, I might never have been reunited with my real brother."
Trixie blushed at all the praise that was suddenly being directed at her.
"Well, I guess I'm impressed," Todd said, not sounding it.
Trixie definitely didn't like him.
"I can't believe he's Mrs. Whitton's son," Trixie said to Honey later in their bedroom. "She's so wonderful and he's--"
"Not?" Honey said.
Trixie nodded. "I don't like him. Did you see how he was when he heard we wanted to be detectives?"
"Okay, he's a bit condescending," Honey acknowledged. "But he is Mrs. Whitton's son and she's clearly thrilled to have him home."
"Isn't it strange that he showed up suddenly?" Trixie asked. "I mean, Mrs. Whitton hasn't heard from him in a month and he arrives right after someone breaks in?"
"Trixie, are you suggesting it was Todd who broke in? Because I'm sure he has his own key and wouldn't need to break a window to unlock the door."
"Well, maybe he doesn't have a key," Trixie said stubbornly.
"Even so, he could have just shown up like he did today and had the whole house at his disposal to search."
"Maybe that's why he's here now!"
Honey shook her head. "No, I think you're wrong about this, Trixie."
"Maybe," Trixie said. "But I still don't like Todd Whitton, even if he's not the prowler." Which he might be, she wanted to add but didn't.
At dinner that evening, Trixie observed Todd Whitton carefully. She watched for any trace of suspicious behavior in what he did or said.
"It must be great living in California," Mart said. "Sunshine and beaches."
"Well, it does rain sometimes," Todd said wryly. "And I rarely get to the beach." He turned his head towards his mother. "The oddest thing happened a couple of months ago. Cal Morley came to see me."
"Leon's son?" Mrs. Whitton was surprised. "That is odd. I didn't even know he was out in California. What did he want?"
"Beats me," Todd replied. "I don't think he's doing too well. He said his father and he had a falling out. Then he started talking about Pop and all the great meals we used to have at our house."
"I don't think I've seen him since that last time your father and I had him and Leon for dinner. Leon has never mentioned a falling out. Of course, I only hear from Leon by Christmas card once a year."
"Well, Cal said he had a job working as a dishwasher at some L.A. restaurant. He's really changed since you last saw him, Mom."
"He's the son of the food critic?" asked Trixie.
"Yes, Trixie," Mrs. Whitton said. "Leon always was worried that the boy wouldn't amount to much. He dropped out of college and just kind of drifted." She sighed a little and then brightened. "Oh, Todd, guess what dear Trixie found? Your father's test recipes! Remember how I searched for them after he died? They were hidden in the window seat of the lilac bedroom."
"That's terrific," Todd said, delighted. "I wondered where those could be." He smiled at Trixie. "I guess you really are a little detective."
Trixie winced at the phrase "little detective".
The Bob-Whites did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen while the grown-ups had after dinner coffee and talked.
As she dried the dishes Honey handed her, Trixie thought about Todd some more. She just didn't like him. There was no getting around it. Even when he complimented her, it sounded like a put down, though he had certainly seemed glad to hear about the recipes being found.
Trixie paused in mid-rub. Maybe there was something in the box with the recipes that she'd overlooked. She hadn't examined every piece of paper.
"Earth to Trixie," Mart said. "How long is Honey supposed to hold that dripping plate?"
Trixie smirked at her brother. "Put this one away," she said, handing him the dried plate, "then maybe I can dry the next one."
"Trix, you're not still suspecting Todd, are you?" Honey said in a low voice.
"I don't know," Trixie said. "I need some time to figure things out."
Trixie lingered behind in the kitchen as the other Bob-Whites went into the family room. Mart was dying to watch an old sci-fi movie that was going to be aired on TV.
Once she was alone, she went to the box she had found in the window seat. Mrs. Whitton had placed it on the countertop near the canisters. She took it upstairs with her so she could look without interruption.
"There has to be something in here," she muttered to herself as she went through the papers.
But there was nothing. Just recipes and more recipes. The only thing that wasn't a recipe was an entry form for the Chicagoland Cook-Off. Trixie glanced over the rules of entry. Suddenly, she started to get excited. She had overlooked something.
"The grand prize is five hundred thousand dollars!" Trixie told Honey later when they were dressing for bed.
"So? The Pillsbury Bake-Off gives a million dollars to their grand prize winner."
"Don't you see, Honey?" Trixie said. "Somebody wants one of Mr. Whitton's recipes so they can win one of these contests!"
"Trixie, that is ridiculous," Honey said. "You heard what Mrs. Whitton said. No recipe can be guaranteed to win. In fact, Mr. Whitton lost all the time."
"Not all the time! He placed third, she told us."
"Once," Honey reminded her. "Only once. No, Trixie, I think you are really reaching on this."
That was not what Trixie wanted to hear. Not even Honey would support her theory.
Di came in to the room. "You should have watched the rest of that movie," she yawned. "It was the silliest thing I ever saw."
"I have seen it," Trixie said with a snort. "Mart has it on video and plays it endlessly. I don't know what you see in him, Di."
Diana blushed. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"Come on, Trixie, I think Mart is awfully cute," Honey said, "and I think Jim would say good looks run in the Belden family."
Now, it was Trixie's turn to blush. "Well," Trixie shot back, "I think Brian might say the same of the Wheeler family."
"Honey, you are turning beet red!" Di exclaimed.
All three girls burst into giggles.
"Gosh," Honey said as their laughter subsided, "the day after tomorrow we'll be leaving for home."
"I'll be glad when we get back to Sleepyside," Di said, changing into her pajamas. "I like Chicago and it's been a lot of fun, but I also miss Sleepyside."
"I know what you mean," said Honey, slipping into bed.
Trixie bit her lip. Time was running out and she still hadn't solved the mystery.
The next day Mr. Lynch suggested a trip to Brookfield Zoo. He thought the twins would enjoy it and he invited the Bob-Whites along. "We'll need to take the van," he explained to them.
All the Bob-Whites were up for it, except for Trixie.
"I think I'll stay here," she said. "I might finish the book I've been reading."
"Trix, what's the matter?" Jim demanded when he managed to get her alone. "Don't tell me you really want to spend our last whole vacation day reading a book!"
"It's just the zoo," Trixie said evasively. "I've been to zoos before, you know."
"I see," Jim said coolly. "If you don't want to tell me, I can't make you. Enjoy your book."
Trixie felt a small regret tug at her heart as he walked away from her. But if Honey were doubting her theory, then what would Jim make of it? How could she explain to him that she wanted to stay home so she could spy on Todd Whitton?
"I think I'll stay with Trixie," announced Honey as everybody prepared to leave.
"You don't have to," Trixie told her. "I won't be alone with Mrs. Whitton and her son here and I'm sure you'd have more fun at the zoo."
"No, I don't feel much like walking a lot today. My feet are still tired from the past few days of sight-seeing."
Honey was firm and the rest of the group set off without her or Trixie.
"So, what's your big plan?" Honey asked when she and Trixie were alone.
"My big plan?"
"I figure you must be plotting something and that's why you wanted to stay here."
"Well, I just want to keep an eye on Todd," Trixie said.
"Some plan," Honey sighed. "Maybe I should read your Lucy Radcliffe book while you're spying on Todd."
As it turned out, Trixie had no chance to spy on Todd. He and Mrs. Whitton decided to go out.
"We're going to visit Henry's grave," Mrs. Whitton said. "And then we may have lunch. I hope you girls don't mind being left by yourselves."
"Not at all, Mrs. Whitton," Honey assured her. "We'll be fine."
After the Whittons had left, Trixie let out a big groan. "So much for my idea!"
"It wasn't much of an idea in the first place," said Honey. "Those recipes were Todd's father's and I'm sure Mrs. Whitton would love it if Todd wanted to enter a cook-off with one of them. If Todd actually can cook. That's something you've forgotten, Trixie. Anyone who enters the cook-off would need to be a good cook. A lousy cook can ruin a good recipe."
Trixie tossed back her head and scowled. "Well, he could be a great cook! After all, not only was his dad a great cook, but Mrs. Whitton is pretty talented, too. Maybe they taught him."
"Even so," Honey said calmly, "I'm sure Mrs. Whitton would not mind if Todd took one of the recipes. You may not like him, Trixie, but she loves him."
Honey's cool logic frustrated Trixie. Tomorrow afternoon, the Bob-Whites would be on a plane going back home and she'd lose any chance she had of solving this mystery.
Honey decided she would get a head start on packing and Trixie gave up and sat down with her Lucy Radcliffe book to read.
I faced Inspector Hawass. He was a handsome man, I thought. I could see from his expression that he appreciated my slim figure.
"Miss Radcliffe," he said. "I have some questions for you concerning the dead man found in your hotel room."
"Of course," I said with a nod. "But let me answer your first question: No, I'm not the one who stabbed him to death."
Maybe Honey is right, thought Trixie, I suspect Todd Whitton for less reason than the Inspector has for thinking Lucy is a murderer. And Lucy is innocent.
"Trixie, did you hear that?" Honey suddenly said.
Trixie looked up from her book. Honey's eyes were wide with alarm.
"Hear what, Honey?" asked Trixie with a frown.
Before Honey could reply, Trixie heard it, too. A loud banging noise was coming from downstairs.
"Somebody's trying to break in!" Honey said fearfully.
Trixie put a finger to her lips. She went to the bedroom door and opened it a crack, listening. Then she closed it and turned back to Honey. "No, Honey," she said grimly, "somebody's already in the house."
"Oh, Trixie!" Honey paled. "What are we going to do?"
"He sounds like he's looking through the kitchen cupboards," Trixie said.
"But what if he decides to come upstairs?" Honey was trembling.
"There's probably a phone in Mrs. Whitton's bedroom. We can go in there and call the police."
Trixie could see Honey was terrified at the thought of leaving their room. She reached out and touched Honey's arm and gave her a reassuring smile. Honey smiled back weakly.
Trixie opened the door and peeked out into the hall. It was empty. She could still hear sounds from downstairs. "I think he's searching the office," Trixie whispered.
The two girls hurried down the hall towards Mrs. Whitton's bedroom. Once inside, Trixie closed the door and locked it.
"There's the phone," Honey said with obvious relief. She picked it up. She frowned at Trixie. "I can't get a dial tone!"
All of a sudden, a loud beeping came from the phone. "It's off the hook," Trixie hissed. "Hang it up!"
Honey dropped the phone into its cradle as if it were a snake. "He knows we're here!"
"No, I don't think so," said Trixie. "He might have accidentally knocked the office phone off the hook while searching the desk." She put her ear against the door.
"Maybe we can go out the window," Honey said, hopeful. She ran over to Mrs. Whitton's window and looked downwards. "Oh, there's no way!"
"Shh," Trixie whispered. "I think he's coming up the stairs."
The girls froze as the doorknob began to jiggle. He was trying to get into the room!
"The closet," Trixie mouthed to her friend. Honey nodded and they had just closed themselves inside the closet when the bedroom door burst open.
In retrospect, Trixie would have chosen the bathroom over the closet. Because whoever was in the bedroom was searching for something and one of the first places a person searches is a closet. This person was no exception. Through the small crack where the two doors joined, Trixie could make out a figure and he was coming towards where they hid in the cramped darkness.
"He's coming," Trixie whispered to Honey. Trixie was ready for him as the door was swung open. She lunged forward and struck against the man and they both hit the floor. "Run, Honey!" Trixie shouted. She had a vague knowledge of Honey moving past her.
Trixie scrambled to get to her feet. The man grabbed at her and yanked her towards him. "You little brat!" he screamed. "I ought to kill you!"
He pulled her up as he rose to stand and she finally saw his face. She recognized him instantly by his scraggly beard and his horn-rimmed glasses. The only thing missing was the hat. She could see now that he had shoulder-length brown hair.
"You're the man who was following us!" she accused.
"Yeah? So what?" He looked towards the door. "Your little friend ran off and left you. Let's go find her." He started out the bedroom, holding Trixie's left arm tightly.
"Why did you follow us?" Trixie asked. She wondered if Honey had gotten out of the house. "What is it you want?"
"Shut up!"
They started down the stairs.
"You're hurting my arm," Trixie told him.
"I don't care! You weren't supposed to be here! You're always in my way."
Trixie's mind worked rapidly. She had to find a way to break free. As far as she could tell, he was unarmed. But what if he is armed? she thought. She had to chance it. Even if he had a weapon, it would take him a few seconds to grab it.
Trixie suddenly grabbed at the railing with her right hand. She swung her legs over. His hold on her arm was broken as the weight of her body pulled her towards the tile floor below.
Thud.
It was only a few feet from railing to floor, but she hit the tile hard, slamming against her left side. She recovered quickly and was up and running for the front door. It was locked.
"Think you're pretty clever, don't you?"
Trixie turned to face the man. He stood there smirking at her and in his hand was a knife.
"Who are you?" she said hoarsely. "You broke in here the other night, didn't you?"
"Maybe I did. It was past your bedtime anyhow." He took a step towards her and Trixie flinched.
"Are you going to kill me?" The words were said unconsciously and as she heard herself, Trixie shivered.
"Listen, brat," said the man, "I just want the recipes."
Suddenly, Trixie was aware of someone moving up behind the man. A police officer! Honey must have called for help.
"Why do you want them?" asked Trixie.
"None of your business!" the man snapped. "Now, where are they?"
"Police! Drop your weapon!"
The man froze and his face went white.
"I repeat, drop you weapon!"
The knife clattered against the tiles. The man had given up.
A police officer cuffed him and another cop asked Trixie if she was all right.
"I'm fine, I think," Trixie said shakily. "My left arm hurts like heck, though. Where's Honey?"
"Who?" the cop asked with a frown. "The neighbor saw this fellow sneaking around and she called us."
"But, where's Honey?" Trixie asked.
"I'm right here." Honey hurried over to Trixie. "I was in the office. I went there to call 911. I guess I didn't have to, though! Thank goodness for Mrs. Whitton's neighbor! Anyhow, I could hear you and the guy out here, but I didn't know what to do, Trixie!"
"You did the right thing by staying put, miss," said the cop. "You couldn't have helped your friend out here."
"What I want to know is, who is he?" Trixie said pointing to the intruder.
"Officer Perkins," the cop called over to his partner. "What's this guy's name?"
"He's got a California driver's license that says he's Calvin Morley," Perkins said.
"Cal Morley!" Trixie exclaimed.
"Let me get this straight," Todd Whitton said, "Cal Morley wanted to steal my father's test recipes? What did he hope to do with them?"
Everyone was gathered in the living room around Trixie and Honey. Cal Morley had been arrested and taken away by the police. Mrs. Whitton and Todd had arrived home as they were leaving and soon the van carrying the others returned from a day at the zoo.
"Apparently, the owner of the restaurant where Cal worked paid a lot of money for original recipes that he could claim as exclusives," Trixie told them.
"How much is a lot?" Mr. Lynch asked.
"Well, a few hundred dollars for each recipe. Cal remembered that Mr. Whitton had a big box full of original and unknown recipes from the time he dined here with his father. He figured he could make a few thousand dollars selling those recipes."
"So," Honey continued the story,"he hopped a bus back to Chicago. He's the prowler your neighbor saw a few weeks ago, Mrs. Whitton. And he's the man who was following us at the Art Institute."
"I certainly wish you'd mentioned that a stranger was following you," Mr. Lynch said.
"Well, nobody but me really thought he was following us," Trixie said.
"We're sorry, Trixie," Jim said. "I guess we didn't take it very seriously. Your instincts were right on target."
"They usually are!" Honey said, smiling at Trixie.
"Usually, but not always," Trixie said, remembering how she suspected Todd. "Anyhow, he was surprised when we showed up at your house, Mrs. Whitton. He counted on you being alone here. And today he was sure we'd all gone out and he had the perfect opportunity to search the house."
"My, this is more excitement than I've known in a long time," Mrs. Whitton said. "Trixie, you must visit me again! You certainly make life interesting."
"You have no idea, Mrs. Whitton," Mart said, rolling his eyes.
"One thing I don't understand," Mrs. Whitton said, "is why he went upstairs to search when the recipes were in the kitchen."
"Because they weren't," Trixie said. "I was looking at them last night and they're still on the desk upstairs."
"You know something," Mrs. Whitton said, smiling at her son. "I think we ought to put your father's recipes together and make a cookbook. He always dreamed of it and even if we have to self-publish, I want to do it."
"I think it's a terrific idea, Ma," Todd said, giving her a hug. "Dad would be so proud."
"Put me down for one of those cookbooks," Honey said.
"Me, too," Di said.
"I think the Belden household could use one," Mart said, patting his stomach.
Mrs. Whitton laughed. "At this rate, I'll have a bestseller on my hands!"
Everybody else laughed along with her.
Mr. Lynch thought the girls should call home, so Trixie called Crabapple Farm and related the story to Moms.
"Trixie Belden, can I trust you to leave this house just once without getting into a jam?" Moms said, her voice a mixture of worry and exasperation.
"I'm sorry, Moms," Trixie said once more.
Honey called Miss Trask and after much reassuring, she handed the phone to Jim.
Jim spoke to Miss Trask briefly. When he hung up, Trixie had the sense that he was puzzled.
Later, Jim asked Trixie to go out onto the deck with him.
"Trix," he said once they were alone outside, "I suppose you'll never stop getting into dangerous situations."
"I'm going to be a detective, remember," she said quietly.
"I know. But you aren't grown-up, yet. You haven't learned all the skills you need to survive. You're a pretty fast thinker, I'll give you that." He touched her left arm gently. "Look at this, it's all scratched and bruised."
"And it's sore," Trixie said ruefully. "I think I need to go on a diet."
"Don't you dare," he said. "I like you just the way are."
She didn't know what to say, so she changed the subject. "You seemed a little concerned after you spoke to Miss Trask."
Jim looked away. "Something's wrong," he said in a low voice.
"What?" Trixie asked, suddenly worried.
"I'm not sure," Jim said with a shrug. "Miss Trask wouldn't really say. She just said that she was glad we were coming back tomorrow. She has something to tell us, but it has to be in person and she's meeting us at the airport. I could tell from her voice that it was something serious."
"Sounds very mysterious," Trixie said.
Jim sighed. "Very. But let's not think about it now, Trixie."
"Hey," Honey called out to them, "Mrs. Whitton has taken the night off and we're ordering Chinese take-out!"
The rest of the evening was spent eating, laughing, and talking about the craziness of the day. Mrs. Whitton declared that her Henry's sweet and sour chicken was the best but that this take-out stuff could do in a pinch.
All the while, Trixie thought of Miss Trask and the important thing she had to tell them. There were prickles on the back of her neck, again. Another mystery was just around the corner!
The End
References: The Case of the Two Winners (qb), The Mystery of the Queen's Necklace, The Mystery of the Ghostly Galleon, The Mysterious Visitor.