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  The TRIXIE BELDEN SERIES

  1 The Secret of the Mansion

  2 The Red Trailer Mystery

  3 The Gatehouse Mystery

  4 The Mysterious Visitor

  5 The Mystery Off Glen Road

  6 The Mystery in Arizona

  7 The Mysterious Code

  8 The Black Jacket Mystery

  9 The Happy Valley Mystery

  10 The Marshland Mystery

  11 The Mystery at Bob-White Cave

  12 The Mystery of the Blinking Eye

  13 The Mystery on Cobbett’s Island

  14 The Mystery of the Emeralds

  15 The Mystery on the Mississippi

  16 The Mystery of the Missing Heiress

  17 The Mystery of the Uninvited Guest

  18 The Mystery of the Phantom Grasshopper

  19 The Secret of the Unseen Treasure

  20 The Mystery Off Old Telegraph Road

  21 The Mystery of the Castaway Children

  22 The Mystery at Mead’s Mountain

  23 The Mystery of the Queen’s Necklace

  24 The Mystery at Saratoga

  25 The Sasquatch Mystery

  26 The Mystery of the Headless Horseman

  27 The Mystery of the Ghostly Galleon

  28 The Hudson River Mystery

  29 The Mystery of the Velvet Gown

  30 The Mystery of the Midnight Marauder

  31 The Mystery at Maypenny’s

  32 The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

  33 The Mystery of the Vanishing Victim

  34 The Mystery of the Missing Millionaire

  35 The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

  36 The Mystery of the Antique Doll

  37 The Pet Show Mystery

  38 The Indian Burial Ground Mystery

  39 The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost

  Copyright © 1985 by Western Publishing Company, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the U.S.A. No part of this book may be reproduced or copied in any form without written permission from the publisher. GOLDEN®, GOLDEN & DESIGN®, A GOLDEN BOOK®, and TRIXIE BELDEN® are trademarks of Western Publishing Company, Inc. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 84-81588

  ISBN 0-307-21560-1/ISBN 0-307-61560-X (lib. bdg.)

  All names, characters, und events in this story are entirely fictitious.

  Contents

  1 * An Everlasting Winter

  2 * Patch Provides a Plan

  3 * The Bob-Whites Begin

  4 * The Angry Young Man

  5 * Honey Uncovers a Rumor

  6 * Dr. Chang Explains

  7 * The Man from the Mall

  8 * Dressed for Waiting

  9 * The End of a Suspect

  10 * A Last-Minute Entry

  11 * Computerized Confrontation

  12* Tailing a Suspect

  13 * The Evidence on Ice

  14 * Success!

  1 * An Everlasting Winter

  “I CAN’T STAND IT,” Trixie Belden proclaimed as she came in through the back door of her family’s comfortable old farmhouse. “I absolutely can’t stand it one more minute.”

  Trixie’s mother looked up from her work in the kitchen, an expression of gentle concern on her face. “What’s wrong, Trixie?” she asked.

  “Winter.School. Snow. Home work. Boredom.” Trixie made each word a longer, louder groan.

  “Why, Trixie!” Helen Belden said. “Today was your first day back at school after two weeks’ winter vacation. How can you be bored with it already?”

  Trixie sighed as she unzipped her down-filled jacket. She hung it and her book bag on a hook and walked into the kitchen. “I don’t know why I’m bored, but I am. Maybe it really isn’t school I’m tired of; maybe it’s this awful, everlasting winter.”

  “It has been a hard one,” her mother agreed.

  “Hard? It’s been impossible!” Trixie exclaimed as she opened the refrigerator door in search of an after-school snack. “First we had that enormous snowstorm two days before Thanksgiving. Then we had another one three days after Thanksgiving. Things never really got dug out between the two storms. And then, right after the second one, it turned bitterly cold for two entire weeks. Everything froze solid so it couldn’t be dug out. And that’s how it’s been ever since.

  “The cold and snow make it impossible to go anywhere or do anything,” Trixie went on. “I’m glad they added a second run of the school bus every day so country kids like us could still take part in activities after school. Still, that only gives us an extra hour and a half. The rest of the time, we’re cooped up at home without one single, solitary thing to do,” she concluded as she set the food down on the counter.

  “I think you’re exaggerating,” her mother said. “What you mean is that the Bob-Whites’ usual whirlwind of activity has been slowed to a stiff breeze.”

  In spite of her bad mood, Trixie had to smile. The Bob-Whites of the Glen—a group that included Trixie and her two older brothers, plus their four best friends—were indeed an active group.

  The club’s two purposes were to have fun and to help others. And no matter what else they did, they seemed to stumble accidentally onto mysteries that needed to be solved. At least, Trixie insisted that the Bob-Whites got involved in the mysteries by accident. Her friends thought that Trixie went out of her way to find them. She readily admitted that she enjoyed the excitement.

  “Excitement,” she said out loud as she sliced apples and pears and cheese and arranged the slices on a plate. “That’s what we need around here.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Mrs. Belden said. “After all the excitement of the holidays, I don’t mind having a couple of quiet weeks.”

  “The quiet weeks go on for months,” Trixie said, unwilling to look at the bright side of anything. “That’s the problem.”

  Just then the back door opened again, and a heavily bundled figure stepped inside. “I’ve found the solution to all of our problems,” he announced. “Cybernetics.”

  Trixie and her mother looked at one another, startled by the perfect timing of the remark. Both of them began to giggle.

  “I fail to see the humor in my statement.” Mart Belden’s frowning face emerged as he took off his stocking cap and unzipped his jacket.

  Trixie didn’t need to see her brother’s sandy hair, blue eyes, and freckles—all so much like her own—to be able to identify him. Mart was the only member of the Belden household who used such pompous language.

  “Never mind,” Trixie said quickly. “Anyway, tell me about this cider-whoosits and how it’s going to solve all our problems.”

  “Cy-ber-net-ics,” Mart repeated slowly. “Electronic communication control systems. Computers, to the uninitiated.”

  “That’s right, you’re taking a computer programming class this term,” Mrs. Belden said. “I see you’re enjoying it so far.”

  “Enjoyment is only part of it. Enrichment is the central concern,” Mart said loftily. “Today I had my first hands-on experience with state-of-the-art technology. Already I can feel the parameters of my personal data base expanding in quantum leaps.”

  “I can’t stand it,” Trixie said. “I really can’t stand it.”

  As Trixie spoke, the back door opened a third time and Brian Belden stepped inside. His nose and the tips of his ears were bright red, and his dark eyes were sparkling with amusement. “Let me guess. Mart was telling you about his vast experience with computers—all twenty minutes of it.”

  “Why, how did you know?” Trixie asked her oldest brother in mock amazement.

  “Easy,” Brian said. “He talked about nothing else all the way home. I almost wished I’d ridden the bus, instead of taking my car so we could run an errand aft
er school.”

  “Obviously, neither of you has envisioned the possibilities,” said Mart. “I can learn to use an electronic spreadsheet, for example.

  Then I’ll be a more effective treasurer for the Bob-Whites. I’ll be able to trace our transactions, do quarterly financial analyses, produce long-term projections—”

  “You’re going to do all those things?” Trixie asked. “The Bob-White treasury hardly ever has more than five dollars in it. That wouldn’t be worth the money you’d need to run the computer!”

  “You haven’t grasped the intricacies of control theory,” Mart sniffed. He gathered up as much fruit and cheese as he could carry in one hand and picked up his book bag with the other. “I can’t spend more time trying to explain it; I have work to do.”

  “I do, too,” Brian said. “Of course, I don’t have any interesting classes—just boring old science, math, history, and English lit. But I’ll apply myself to my studies as best I can.” Scooping his books up off the counter where he’d set them, he followed his brother up the stairs.

  The bantering exchange with her brothers had almost made Trixie forget about her boredom. But as soon as they left the room, all of her energy seemed to go with them. “I should study, too, I guess,” she said, but she didn’t make any move toward her book bag. Impulsively, she asked, “Moms, can I go over to the Manor House to see Honey?”

  “But you just rode home together on the school bus,” Mrs. Belden said.

  “I know, but we can’t talk on the bus. It’s so crowded and noisy. Seeing Honey will cheer me up. Please? I’ll be back by dinner time, I promise.”

  “All right,” Mrs. Belden said. “It sounds to me like a good winter tonic.”

  “The best!” Trixie agreed. She dashed for the back door, and pulled on her boots and jacket. Calling good-bye, she headed outdoors.

  The cold stabbed at her like an icy knife. Walking down the long driveway of Crabapple Farm required her to face the wind, and her eyes watered and her forehead ached. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all, she thought. Especially since the path between our house and the Wheelers’ is snowed over. Going down Glen Road is almost twice as far.

  At Glen Road, she turned and began walking toward the Manor House. The wind shifted, and she was still walking directly into it. She walked with her head down, her eyes watching her boots as she trudged through the snow.

  When she looked up again, she saw something dark at the side of the road several yards ahead. She blinked away the tears that blurred her vision. The thing wasn’t a bush, because its outline was too distinct for that. It wasn’t a cluster of rural mailboxes, either—there weren’t any between the Manor House and Crabapple Farm.

  Finally Trixie began to make sense of the strange shape. It’s some kind of four-legged animal, she thought. No—wait. It’s a person on hands and knees. But why would a person be kneeling in the snow by the side of the road?

  “Oh, no!” she shouted. “It must have been a hit-and-run accident!” She began to run as fast as she could in her bulky clothes toward the person.

  As Trixie drew near, the person began to rise, slowly and awkwardly. You should never get up if you’re hurt, Trixie thought frantically, recalling her first-aid training.

  She sprinted the last few feet and then lunged forward, reaching out. “Let me help you!” she called.

  Startled by the sound of Trixie’s voice, the person whirled around, colliding with Trixie’s outstretched arms. Something was knocked to the ground and landed on the hard snow with a soft thud. At the same time, hundreds of small golden pellets flew up into the air.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” a girl’s voice asked. She was dressed in heavy pants, a hooded parka, and a knit muffler.

  “I-I was trying to help,” Trixie stammered, surprised at meeting someone on the icy road. “Are you hurt?”

  “You didn’t run into me that hard,” the girl said. “I just dropped my corn, is all.”

  “No, I mean before. I saw you on your hands and knees, and I thought you were hurt,” Trixie explained.

  “Oh.” The girl paused to consider Trixie’s theory. “I guess I can see why you’d think that. But I’ve spent plenty of time on my hands and knees along this road, and nobody else ever thought that.”

  “You have?” Seeing the girl’s blank look, Trixie added, “Spent plenty of time kneeling out here, I mean. Why?”

  “Feeding the birds. That was a bowl of cracked corn that you just knocked out of my hands.”

  “Sorry,” Trixie said belatedly. “But why are you out here feeding the birds? We get dozens and dozens at the feeder in our backyard.”

  “Not these birds, you don’t,” the girl said. “These are birds like pheasants and quail. They feed off the ground, not from feeders. But when there’s as much snow as there’s been this winter, the ground is all covered. The birds can’t get to their food. They’re dying by the thousands.”

  “Oh.” It was Trixie’s turn to pause and consider. “It seems like I’ve seen more pheasants this winter than usual, though.”

  “You have,” the girl said. “They’re so desperate for food that they’re coming out of the underbrush to hunt for food along the roadside.”

  “So that’s why you’re putting the corn out here,” Trixie concluded, hoping that she was finally on the right track.

  “I have ten feeding stations along a three-mile section of Glen Road. I have ten more along Old Telegraph Road. Every day I come out and refill one set of stations or the other. It isn’t much, but it’s the best I can do.”

  “I think what you’re doing is wonderful,” Trixie said sincerely. “It’s been a hard winter. Walking three miles out and three back every day takes real dedication.”

  “My dedication won’t keep the birds alive,” the girl said bitterly. “Only the food will help. And I’m not putting out nearly as much as is needed.”

  “But you’re doing all you can,” Trixie insisted. “That’s all anyone can do.”

  The girl shrugged off Trixie’s reassurances. “I know, but it just isn’t enough.”

  There was an awkward silence. Trixie couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t come pelting back in her face the way the cracked corn had. “My name is Trixie Belden,” she said finally.

  “I know who you are,” the girl told her. Trixie peered through the fur-trimmed hood and knit muffler, trying to recognize the girl. It was no use.

  “My name is Norma Nelson,” the girl finally said.

  “Oh! Hi. Of course, I know you.” Trixie realized that she was speaking with more warmth than was really appropriate. Something about Norma’s sullen coldness made Trixie desperately want to produce some sign of a thaw. Actually, though, she didn’t know Norma Nelson at all. Hearing the name, Trixie could picture the girl’s face and see her walking down the halls of Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School. But as far as Trixie could remember, she’d never spoken to Norma before.

  “I have to get going,” Norma said. “It’s getting dark.”

  “Can I help you with the rest of your route? It’s my fault that you’re behind schedule, after all.”

  “I can manage.” Norma Nelson picked up a large plastic pail and a stack of smaller plastic bowls. Without saying good-bye, she walked off in the direction from which Trixie had just come.

  2 * Patch Provides a Plan

  TRIXIE WATCHED Norma for a moment before turning and continuing on toward the Manor House. I don’t even know where Norma lives, she thought. She must live in town, or I’d have seen heron the school bus. It really takes guts to make that hike every afternoon, the way the weathers been.

  “It certainly does,” Honey Wheeler agreed a few minutes later. Settled in Honey’s bedroom, Trixie had immediately related her encounter with Norma Nelson. “It kind of surprises me. Norma has always seemed so quiet and timid.”

  “Do you know her?” Trixie asked.

  Honey shook her head, and her honey-blonde hair moved so
ftly across her shoulders. “I had an English class with her once. She never raised her hand, and when the teacher called on her, there was always a long, long pause. I sometimes had the feeling that Norma might not say anything at all. But finally she’d answer. She always knew the right answer, too. She’s not dumb or anything. She’s just shy.”

  “It’s hard for me to imagine being that shy. It’s never been one of my bigger problems,” Trixie said, laughing at herself.

  Honey didn’t join in the laughter. “I can do more than imagine it. I can remember what it’s like. It’s no fun, believe me.”

  Both girls sat quietly for a moment, remembering the days when Honey Wheeler had first moved to the Manor House just down the road from Crabapple Farm. She’d been pale, shy, and frightened of her own shadow. The only child of wealthy parents who traveled much of the time, she’d been raised in boarding schools. Most of her problems had come from not having a real home, with real friends and neighbors.

  Realizing that, the Wheelers had bought the Manor House with its horses, stables, and acres of game preserve. They’d also hired Miss Trask, one of Honey’s teachers from boarding school, to come and manage the house full-time.

  The Wheelers’ plan for helping their daughter had succeeded even better than they’d hoped. The success was largely due to the bold and energetic Belden youngsters who became Honey’s closest neighbors and, in short order, best friends.

  To make things “perfectly perfect,” as Honey was fond of saying, soon after Trixie met Honey, the two girls met Jim Frayne, a runaway orphan. After Jim had escaped from his cruel stepfather and found his rightful inheritance, he’d been adopted by the Wheelers.

  In just a few months, Honey had a real home, best friends, and an older brother. “Coming to Sleepyside was like the start of a new life for me,” Honey said aloud.

  “It was for me, too,’’ Trixie said. “Even with two older brothers and one younger one, I’ve felt lonely sometimes. Now that you’re here, I never feel that way anymore.”

  “I’m sure it helps that my brother Jim is here, too,” Honey said playfully.