The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost Read online

  Trixie yelled, “I told you we shouldn’t report Dan missing! Now see the trouble he’s in!”

  Brian turned off the radio with a forceful click. “We’re doing what we can, in any way we can, to find Dan.”

  Hallie almost whispered, “Did anybody see and recognize Dan? Maybe he isn’t in the woods. Maybe you’re looking in the wrong place.”

  “That’s possible,” Mart agreed.

  Mrs. Belden spoke with deep pity. “Dan could be in Timbuktu, and people would still suspect him after that report. They won’t remember that he was a victim when he was in trouble before. First impressions aren’t easily forgotten.”

  “My first impression was that I liked Dan,” Hallie said loyally.

  “Me, too,” Bobby said, “but I don’t like frog hunters. Frogs catch mosquitoes, and mosquitoes bite. So I think frogs belong where the mosquitoes are and not in moneybags.”

  Mr. Belden was a banker, and his children recognized the equipment used in a bank. He lowered his paper and asked, “What’s that about a moneybag?”

  Bobby mumbled through toast crumbs. “You can’t put frogs in a moneybag. They can’t breathe, and they dry out. But there was something in that bag.” Bobby suddenly became deaf when his father tried to pursue the subject, so Trixie asked, “What does your frog hunter look like?”

  “He has dirty feet,” Bobby said. “Big ones. I couldn’t see his eyes. He had black glasses on.”

  “Oh!” Trixie gasped. “I may know him. His aunt lives at Glen Road Inn. He probably got bored and left the inn for a while.”

  Bobby needed to think about that. When his tall brothers left the room, he said wistfully, “Nobody plays with me, or talks to me. Not even—”

  “Not even who, Bobby?” Mrs. Belden asked.

  “Not even Trixie,” he finished mournfully. “I thought I was in a club, but I’m not. Nobody talks to me. Sometimes I need to talk.” He turned to Hallie. “Okay if I borry Cap’s nocklers? I’m going to climb a tree and see what that frog hunter is doing today.”

  “Help yourself, Bobby,” Hallie answered.

  When they were told about the news release, Regan, Tom, and Mr. Maypenny left their regular work and joined the search for Dan. Using horses, bicycles, the station wagon, and Brian’s jalopy, they combed the district. No one had seen Dan, but many had heard the news report. Regan revealed to the Bob-Whites that he hadn’t had time to mention the ring before Dan ran.

  Trixie fretted over that information. “It may mean that Dan ran to somebody else instead of away from Regan.”

  “Yes,” Honey agreed, “but that scares me.”

  During the search, the girls found scraps of time to work with Mrs. Belden and Mrs. Lynch on preparations for Juliana’s shower. Invitation acceptances were arriving in the mail. Mrs. Belden didn’t think it wise to cancel the party because Dan was missing. She pointed out that the police were now on the job.

  Hallie wondered if they should invite Mrs. Boyer to the party, but Mrs. Belden was all aflutter at the very idea of having her in the house. “Mrs. Boyer? Oh, my, no! I’d be afraid to have all those diamonds here with that gang loose in the game preserve.”

  Each day brought wedding gifts to Manor House, where Ella and Miss Trask were able to carry on the sewing project without much help from the girls. Regan and Tom built a bower that they would carry to the garden to be covered with flowers and greenery. Individually and as a group, the Bob-Whites made frequent trips to see Mr. Maypenny. The old gamekeeper was worried and lonely.

  In this already overcrowded time, Bobby needed attention. His scooter disappeared, and so did Cap’s “nocklers.”

  “I know where I left ’em by the tree, an’ they’re not there,” he mourned.

  But neither were some other things “there.” The bicycle Matthew Wheeler liked to use hadn’t been found, and on the night before the shower, the rest of the Manor House bicycles disappeared. Only Jim’s ten-speed remained. Up at the stone house, the Lynches lost bicycles, tricycles, scooters, and wagons. Other Glen Road children lost their “wheels,” too. These disappearances added to Honey and Trixie’s list of mysteries to be investigated.

  Tuesday was a bright, cloudless day. Juliana’s shower was held in the backyard. Mart and Brian had set up picnic tables and benches. All the neighbors shared their garden flowers, and solid masses of golden-hearted white daisies covered the worn spots in the grass where Bobby had played his games and Reddy had dug to find a cool bed.

  Exactly at two o’clock, Juliana arrived at the front door, unaware that the backyard was already filled with friends. She told Trixie, "I do hope Miss Ryks knew my parents. Ever since she called Hans, I’ve been anxious to meet her.”

  “So have I,” Trixie confessed. “I’ve tried twice to see her. Sometimes I wonder if there is such a person!” Trixie looked down the lane. “But there must be. Here comes a taxi.”

  Trixie tried not to stare at the very old, stately woman, who waited in the front seat until the driver removed her collapsible wheelchair from the backseat. Although the day was hot, Miss Ryks’s outfit had long sleeves, a high tight collar with a fluff of lace, and a full skirt that covered her feet. Blue white hair was piled high on her head in an elaborate arrangement. Her eyes were concealed by large sunglasses sitting firmly on a rather large nose.

  Miss Ryks leaned heavily on the driver’s arm while stepping from the taxi to the wheelchair. In that brief glimpse of the woman’s upright figure, Trixie received the impression of a body with shoulders wider than hips. Yet when Miss Ryks settled into her chair, her shoulders hunched, and she no longer seemed either tall or strong. It was all very confusing.

  Her voice was deep and breathy, but thin, as if something crowded her windpipe. It seemed that every word she spoke took great effort. A large, bony hand, covered with rings, patted Trixie’s bare arm. Wheezily she said, “You can t be little Juliana. You’re too-”

  “Too big?” Trixie finished with a rueful smile. “You’re right. I’m your hostess, Trixie Belden.” Juliana ran lightly down the steps and across the grass. “And this is Juliana.”

  “My dear” was all Miss Ryks had to say. And she didn’t utter another word during all the flurry of meeting Mrs. Belden, Hallie, Di, and Mrs. Lynch. She simply nodded in a regal manner that required no speech.

  Juliana allowed herself to be led to the backyard by Mrs. Belden, while Trixie pushed the wheelchair. Miss Ryks might be frail, but she wasn’t exactly lightweight.

  “Surprise, surprise!” cried smiling guests, crowding around Juliana.

  Juliana sparlded. She danced from person to person, chanting, Tm so glad you’re here. How delightful!” She stopped in front of Miss Trask and Honey to tease, “I thought you two had errands to run!”

  Everybody was there, from Mrs. Vanderpoel to Di’s small twin sisters. Di’s careful plans became happy reality filled with good humor, warm conversation, delicious food, and beautiful gifts for the bride-to-be. As Trixie moved among the guests, she noticed that Mrs. Vanderpoel had made herself Miss Ryks’s champion, even to the point of volunteering to pick her up for the wedding. “Mr. Lytell is taking me, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to include you.”

  Trixie received the decided impression that Miss Ryks didn’t wish to be included, but Mrs. Vanderpoel insisted. “And you must have tea with me. I’ll invite Juliana and Mrs. Wheeler, too.”

  This time Miss Ryks flatly refused. “I can’t always be sure of the condition of my health,” she wheezed.

  Trixie was more concerned about the state of the woman’s manners. After having made such a point of being asked to the wedding, Miss Ryks was making no effort to get acquainted with Juliana.

  The tiny Dutch girl sat beside Miss Ryks and asked questions that might uncover the relationship between them. She got nowhere with Miss Ryks. The ancient dowager crouched in her chair and played with the many rings on her fingers. She wore several long strands of pearls and repeatedly tied them in knots, then untied them. Her han
ds were never still.

  Trixie wished she could see the eyes above that big nose. “I’ll bet she doesn’t miss a thing,” she whispered to Di while they served the cake.

  “I’ll call on you,” Mrs. Vanderpoel promised Miss Ryks as she left.

  “To be sure,” Miss Ryks agreed without enthusiasm.

  Brian was pressed into service to return Miss Ryks to the inn, and Jim had the happy chore of taking home Juliana and all her gifts, tissue paper, and ribbons. Trixie was tom between going with Brian and staying for one last look at the presents. Brian made the choice for her. “I'll need help with the wheelchair,” he said.

  At the inn, Miss Ryks wheezed, “I’m tired. I must get to my room.”

  Trixie expected Dick Ryks to appear at the door of room 214, but he didn’t. Still, as Trixie tinned away from the room and followed Brian down the hall, she heard the nephew’s nasal voice. “How was the shindig, Aunt Kate?” Miss Ryks’s answer was muffled.

  “That’s funny,” Trixie said. “Where did he come from?”

  Brian shrugged. He thought Dick might have been in the bathroom when they got there.

  “Yes,” Trixie agreed. “That was the only place he could have been.”

  When Trixie and Brian reached the Crabapple Farm lane, Bobby was sitting near the mailbox, and Brian stopped to give him a ride to the house. In the car, Bobby slumped in the backseat, totally woebegone.

  “Got problems?” Brian inquired seriously.

  Bobby sighed loudly. “It’s my scooter. You know, Brian, a guy just can’t live without his wheels.”

  Brian knew. Nothing had seemed as important to him as the purchase of his jalopy. “I’ll help you hunt for it as soon as we put away the tables and chairs. Okay?” Bobby sniffed loudly.

  Trixie hugged him. “I’ll help, too.”

  Even Mr. and Mrs. Belden joined in the search. Beldens moved out over the whole farm till they had covered all the places Bobby ever played. But—no scooter.

  Trixie called the Lynches. Di reported that servants, and family, too, had been unable to find a trace of all the missing “wheels” at their house. The same report came from Honey.

  Have you called the police?” Trixie asked Honey. We didn’t because one beat-up scooter wasn’t valuable enough to bother the sergeant about—”

  Trixie was interrupted by a howl from Bobby. “Bother/” He ran from the room, sobbing, “Moms, Trixie says I’m a bother!”

  “I’ll call you back, Honey,” Trixie said hastily. “But —did you call the police?” The answer was yes.

  Teed’s and Wheels • 12

  CRABAPPLE FARM couldn’t be neglected, and neither could the preparations for Juliana’s wedding and the search for Dan. Trixie had never felt more frustiated —there just weren’t enough days in the week or hours in each day. Bobby’s gloom settled over the Belden homelife like smog in a valley.

  In the Wheeler stable, Regan was silent and withdrawn. Mr. Maypenny quit cooking for himself and spent all his time riding old Spartan on the crisscross of trails in the game preserve. Miss Trask had his food delivered from Manor House, and both Trixie and Di brought him snacks from their homes when they visited his cottage daily.

  With loving concern, the Bob-Whites tried to keep problems from dampening Juliana’s joy. The bower was set in the garden, between the birdbath and the summerhouse. Gifts were received and entered in the bride’s record book. Juliana was already writing her thank-you notes and packing trunks. The cook was making festive foods and storing them in the freezers.

  Ella Kline worked alone in the sewing room most of the time. She was looking forward to returning to her room at the inn.

  “Will you get your wheelchair back?” Trixie asked. Ella smiled. “Yes. And the money from Miss Ryks will take care of my first payment.”

  “Did you know Miss Ryks before she came to the inn?” Trixie asked.

  No,” Ella answered. “I talked to her nephew about the wheelchair. As a matter of fact, I’ve never seen her, but I did see her stretcher carried to room two-fourteen. It’s unusual to have an ambulance arrive at the inn, and everybody watched. I got the impression of a scrawny little person.”

  “Scrawny? Little?” Trixie was amazed. Watching Miss Ryks get out of the taxi, Trixie had thought that she had broader shoulders and was taller than most women. Her hands were large, and so was her nose. Trixie couldn’t wait to discuss this with Honey and Hallie.

  Yet when Trixie did see Honey, neither of them mentioned Miss Ryks. They could only worry about Dan. Had he gone back to the streets of the city?

  Had he been kidnapped? Was he lying hurt—or worse —in the forest? Sergeant Molinson was checking on all of those possibilities.

  In their sleuthing, none of the boys had been able to turn up a real clue, though they did report having seen strange boys hanging around. The strangers wore cowboy boots like those Dan had worn when he first came to the area. One boy—the shortest, scrawniest one of the group—wore a western-style hat shoved back on his head. Jim said, “I suppose he thinks it makes him look tougher.”

  Trixie almost tripped over that same young man s boots one afternoon when she went into Wimpy’s. He was wearing the hat and staring through the window at tire alley beyond the parking lot.

  Trixie stared in the same direction. There was the usual clutter of jalopies and family vehicles in the parking lot, but the boy wasn’t looking at these. His head was turned toward a Teed pickup truck pulling out of the alley.

  When the truck turned the comer, the boy made an okay sign with his finger and thumb and clumped out of the room. He was followed by four older boys, all wearing the same kind of cowboy boots.

  Trixie hurried to the booth where the Bob-Whites and Hallie sat. In a loud whisper, she said, “They were here! Dan’s gang!”

  “We saw them.” Jim spoke for Brian and Mart as well as himself. The three looked tired. Trixie knew that her brothers were steadily losing both sleep and

  appetite, and she suspected the same was true of Jim.

  “That track..,“Hallie said cautiously. After Trixie’s outburst in the parking lot, Teed’s had been a taboo subject. “Did you see what it was carrying?” Nobody had noticed.

  “Bicycles,” Hallie said. “Lots of them, and they didn’t look new.”

  “What!” Jim jumped up. “Let’s go!”

  The Bob-Whites made a pell-mell dash for the station wagon.

  Two blocks from Wimpy’s, the Teed track had stopped at the bottom of a slope for a red light. When the light changed, Jim saw which direction the truck headed and followed it as fast as the speed limit allowed. His passengers kept track of the pickup as it moved through traffic.

  When they found themselves on the White Plains highway, Trixie asked anxiously, “Do we have enough gas?”

  “I just filled up,” Jim said. “I can go as far as he can, and I can use a credit card to get home.”

  On the open road at last, Jim was able to pass enough cars to come within easy view of the Teed truck. It was a pickup with a boxlike frame added to carry bulky but lightweight freight. Bicycles standing in neat rows were clearly visible.

  Unexpectedly, the truck turned off on a two-lane road. Now the group began to worry about the wild-goose chase they might be on. Within a mile or two, something new was added along the roadside. Hand-lettered signs appeared that read, yard sale, bikes, trikes, scooters, wagons, straight ahead!

  The Teed truck stopped at an ordinary-looking country home. A banner stretched across the front porch proclaimed that yard to be the site of the sale. Several cars were parked in the driveway and along the edges of the road.

  “Customers already!” Trixie gasped.

  “There must have been an ad in the paper,” Honey said, “or they wouldn’t have known when and where to come.”

  Jim parked at an angle behind the pickup. When Di told him that the truck wouldn’t be able to get out, Jim grinned. “That’s the idea, Di. Come on. Let’s mingle while they unlo
ad.”

  The driver was the same talkative man who had lost the wheelchair. A second man hopped from the truck and began to help unload the bicycles. Jim scowled. “There’s Dad’s bike.”

  “Mine, tool” Honey said.

  “And there’s Bobby’s scooter!” Trixie exploded. “The twins’ wagons,” Di added, then gasped, “and our furniture!” The bicycles had hidden the neatly packed furniture that was now being unloaded.

  “Ssh!” Brian warned. “These people may be in cahoots with the thieves. We’ve got to get to a phone and call Sergeant Molinson.”

  “It’s out of his district,” Mart objected.

  Trixie argued, “He’ll tell us what to do!”

  “I can’t use the phone here,” Jim said. “I’ll have to go back to that house we just passed. Cause any kind of commotion you have to, but don’t let anyone buy anything!”

  Jim walked down the road while the Bob-Whites moved among the stolen items. Each time a customer became interested in an article, a Bob-White crowded forward to examine it, too. It became impossible for the customers to concentrate on buying.

  Under the banner on the porch, a teen-ager sat at a table with a cash till ready for use. He wore cowboy boots. Anxiously Trixie kept watch to see if anybody else wore the high-heeled boots, but she saw no one who did. She kept a firm grip on Bobby’s scooter, even when a red-faced young mother tried to buy it for her whining five-year-old.

  The crowd was getting cranky, and so was the pickup driver. “Oh, boy! Oh, boy!” Hallie gasped. “We're in everybody’s hair. Cap and Knut will never believe this.”