The Mystery of the Millionaire Page 12

  “But you were so nice to her! You took her places and went for walks with her and spent so much time with her and....” Trixie ran out of things to say.

  “Trix,” Jim said, after a thoughtful pause, “first of all, I didn’t know she was a crook. In the second place, I’m not going to let what someone else is change what I am. I hope I’m nice to everyone.”

  “You are, Jim, and I guess I just jumped to the wrong conclusion, as usual.” Trixie slumped contritely, the pink of her face feeling hot.

  “You jump to the right conclusion when it really counts, Trix,” Jim told her with a smile. “We all should have paid more attention to your hunch about Laura. Speaking of Laura,” he continued, “I think we’d better stop here and go the rest of the way on foot.” He stepped on the brakes to slow the car, then pulled it to the side of the road not far from Mr. Lytell’s store.

  “Yes,” Trixie agreed. “If they know we’re here, they might make a run for it, and I don’t know if we could stop them. Mark McGraw is a pretty tough customer.”

  “You think they’ll get Laura’s car back before they go,” Honey guessed.

  “Of course they will,” Jim interjected. “That’s an expensive piece of machinery. They’d never leave it behind.”

  “I don’t think they’ll leave the rest of Mr. Lytell’s money behind, either, if they can help it,” Trixie said solemnly.

  Jim and Honey both turned to Trixie with looks of startled realization, but their friend was already scrambling out of the car. They got out, too, and followed her, hurrying silently down the road and up to a back window of the store. The shade was down, but faint rays of light escaped at the sides.

  For a moment, they heard nothing. Trixie was beginning to wonder if her suspicions were once again wrong, when an angry curse came from inside the building. “This old safe might as well be made of granite. I can’t get it busted open.”

  Trixie felt Honey’s hand on her arm. Both girls had recognized Mark McGraw’s voice immediately. Trixie turned to look at Jim, and he nodded silently.

  “Well, then, let’s get out of here,” a woman’s voice said from inside the store. The poised tones of Laura Ramsey were gone. The voice was so shrill that it was barely recognizable.

  “Just give me a few more minutes with this safe,” McGraw insisted.

  “Your few minutes could cost us a few years in prison,” Laura Ramsey told him. “I say we get out of here now. This whole con has been a bust from the beginning. We should have tapped the Wheelers, like we’d planned.”

  “Lytell was a good mark, I tell you,” McGraw said. “I did a lot of nosing around before I decided to go with him. Wheeler was no good. He’s gone too much, for one thing. And he’s too smart. But all those rumors said Lytell had plenty of money stashed—and that he was dumb enough to fall for a con like ours. It was a perfect setup.”

  “If it was so perfect,” Laura Ramsey asked sarcastically, “why are we leaving town with three lousy grand?”

  “Because those rotten kids got in on the act. How was I to know they’d ride down that road before Lytell did the day I planted the wallet? Anyway, three grand isn’t bad for a week’s work. Lytell probably doesn’t have enough more to risk staying around for, anyhow. You did a great job of stringing them along, getting the extra thousand out of Lytell. It’ll tide us over until we can find another mark.”

  “All right, all right. Everything worked out just great. Now let’s get out of here!” Laura said shrilly.

  Trixie strained her ears for the sound of a police car, but she heard nothing. For the first time, she was aware that Honey was no longer at her side. She turned to look for her just as Honey reappeared, her finger to her lips to discourage questions.

  The back door to Mr. Lytell’s store opened and closed. The three Bob-Whites remained frozen in the shadows of the bushes, wondering frantically what they could do to keep the two con artists from getting away before the police arrived.

  Impulsively, Trixie darted forward, just as Laura Ramsey and Mark McGraw went past the bushes on the way to their cars. “Hi,” she said brightly. “Were you looking for Mr. Lytell?”

  The two culprits froze for a moment. Then Laura Ramsey resumed her poised, rich-girl attitude and returned Trixie’s smile. “Why—why yes, we were, as a matter of fact. Mr. McGraw had some good news to report. He’s found my father. He’s... he’s taking me to him now. We were hoping to catch Mr. Lytell still at the store, but he’s not here. Have you... have you been here long?”

  Trixie’s temper was seething. She no longer felt like going along with Laura Ramsey’s game. “I’ve been here long enough,” she said grimly.

  Laura’s face hardened as she realized that they’d been found out.

  Mark McGraw showed no visible signs of emotion. Moving with a swiftness that seemed impossible for a man of his build, he surged forward and grabbed Trixie by one arm, pulling a gun out of his coat pocket with his free hand. “Why, you little snoop!” he snarled menacingly.

  “Hold it right there!” a voice from the shadows interrupted. “You’re surrounded!”

  Trixie felt a momentary thrill of relief. Then she realized that the voice was Jim’s. The police hadn’t yet arrived, and the two criminals were far from being surrounded. But they don't know that, Trixie thought.

  McGraw had loosened his grip on Trixie’s arm as he turned to the voice. Instantly, Trixie wrenched herself free and bent low at the waist to keep her arm out of reach while she pulled her leg back as far as it would go and brought it forward with a powerful jerk.

  Mark McGraw howled when Trixie’s foot connected with his shin. She turned and darted back to the shadows where Jim and Honey were still standing.

  McGraw aimed his gun in their direction momentarily, peering into the gloom for a target.

  Laura Ramsey tugged at his arm. “Let’s just get out of here,” she shrieked.

  Reluctantly, McGraw followed her to the spot behind the building where his car was parked next to hers.

  They got into their cars and started their motors. Both revved the engines as they put the cars in gear. But the cars moved slowly, and the rear ends swerved so that the rear fenders collided.

  Honey jumped up and down and clapped her hands together softly. “I let the air out of their tires!” she whispered excitedly.

  Trixie turned to Honey in astonishment, then clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Now she knew where Honey had disappeared to while she and Jim had been listening at the window.

  The giggle died in her throat as she realized that she still didn’t know what they were going to do next.

  That question, too, was answered as a black and white police car squealed into the driveway of Mr. Lytell’s store.

  Mark McGraw and Laura Ramsey froze in the glare of the police car’s headlights as they were climbing from their cars.

  “Hold it right there!” a familiar voice shouted.

  Two uniformed policemen ran from the car and clapped handcuffs on the con artists.

  “Whew!” Trixie let herself relax for a minute. Then she suddenly scrambled for the back door of the general store. “We almost forgot Mr.

  Lytell,” she shouted.

  Inside, they found the store owner tied and gagged. He was unharmed but sputtering with indignation.

  Trixie’s Reward ● 13

  THE NEXT MORNING, when Trixie, Honey, and Jim were ushered into Sergeant Molinson’s office, Trixie walked directly to the sergeant’s desk. She laid a sheaf of papers on the desk top. “That’s my deposition,” she said, trying hard to sound casual. “I think it might come in handy when this case goes to court.”

  Sergeant Molinson looked at Trixie with the surprised expression of someone who thought there could be no surprises left. “How did you know about depositions?” he asked.

  “Mr. McGraw told us all about them,” Trixie said, a smug note in her voice. “Only I don’t suppose his real name is McGraw, is it?”

  “I don�
�t suppose so,” Sergeant Molinson agreed. “So far, though, our prisoners aren’t telling us their real names—or anything else. The only information we have about them has come from Mr. Anderson, here.”

  Trixie looked in thre direction the sergeant indicated and was astonished to see the young census taker! “You mean you really are Frank Riebe’s detective?” she asked.

  “I’ve never heard of Frank Riebe,” the man told her, “but I am a detective. I was hired by a man who had been the victim of a con job. He wanted me to find the two people who bilked him out of ten thousand dollars.”

  “Ten thousand!” Mr. Lytell had been sitting morosely in a corner of the room, as if he’d lost his last friend. The exclamation had burst from him almost without his knowing it.

  Burt Anderson nodded. “That’s right. They took my client for ten thousand dollars in cash, plus money for clothing and incidentals for the woman. He was too embarrassed to go to the police and admit he’d been suckered. He hired me to find the two cons. Once he had them where the police could seize them, he would have reported the incident, of course,” he added, with a nod in the sergeant’s direction.

  Sergeant Molinson snorted. “He would have reported the incident if he couldn’t get his money back, you mean,” he said.

  Burt Anderson grinned at the sergeant. “Anyway,” he continued explaining to Trixie, “I tracked the two to Sleepyside. I found out there was a woman staying with either your family or the Wheelers who fit the description, and I tried to get close enough to her to confirm it. No such luck.”

  Trixie blushed as she remembered the lengths to which the Bob-Whites had gone to keep Burt Anderson from getting any information about Laura Ramsey. She herself had helped, even though she hadn’t trusted the woman from the beginning!

  “H-How did you know that Laura Ramsey, or whatever her name is, had been arrested?” Trixie asked.

  “A good detective has contacts,” Burt Anderson replied.

  Trixie giggled at this echo of Mark McGraw. “That’s what I’ve heard,” she said. “I guess you are a good detective, in more ways than one. You don’t look like a detective, though.”

  Burt grinned. “That’s another thing that makes me a good detective,” he said.

  “As usual,” Sergeant Molinson interrupted, “you seem to be getting a good deal more information than you’re giving, Miss Belden. Would you care to tell me about your involvement in this case, or do I have to rely strictly on your written version?”

  Trixie turned and looked at Honey and Jim, but they nodded at her to begin. “Well, I think we have it all pretty much pieced together now,” she said, “after what we heard last night outside the store. It sounded as if they originally planned to pull their con on Mr. Wheeler. But Mr. McGraw decided that wouldn’t work, so they chose Mr. Lytell instead.” She looked at the storekeeper sympathetically.

  “They must have known that he rides along Glen Road every noon,” Trixie continued, “so they planted the wallet there for him to find. They probably would have worked their con without anyone else in town finding out about it. Unfortunately for them, Honey and I rode along that road just before noon, and we found the wallet.”

  “If they’d known at the time who they were dealing with, they probably would have dropped the whole thing right there,” Jim said, his eyes twinkling. “It would be worth losing their hundred-dollar bill just to avoid Supersleuths Trixie and Honey.”

  Trixie shook her head. “I don’t feel like much of a supersleuth where this case is concerned. Honey and I played right into Laura’s hands. Why, I was the one who suggested that Mr. Lytell take her car as collateral for a loan!”

  Burt Anderson nodded. “That’s the way a good con artist operates. He—or she—sets things up so that the mark always feels in control.”

  “Mark?” Honey questioned. “Do you mean Mr. McGraw?”

  Sergeant Molinson chuckled. “The mark is what con artists call their victims. I suspect your phony detective was having a little private joke when he chose that name.”

  “Anyway,” the real detective continued, “the con never seems to be pushing the mark—the victim—to accept the deal. In this case—and in the case of my client—the woman drives up in a flashy sports car. Then, at some point in the conversation, she makes what seems to be a passing reference to it, working in the fact that it’s brand-new and completely paid for. Nothing could be more logical than for the mark to take the bait, to offer a loan with the car as collateral.”

  “That’s just what happened,” Trixie confirmed. “She probably showed a great deal of reluctance to take the money, too,” the detective guessed. “She probably implied that she had a good deal more to lose than Mr. Lytell had.”

  “Exactly!” the storekeeper exclaimed. “Why, she made it sound as though she didn’t trust me to hold the car until she paid back the money. She said it wasn’t because the car was so expensive but because it might be a last gift from her father.”

  “Playing on your sympathy like that undoubtedly made you almost force the money on her,” Burt concluded. “She’s a clever one, all right.”

  “She certainly is,” Trixie agreed. “I started thinking last night, after the police arrested her, about everything that had happened. Even though she and her partner had worked things out carefully in advance, there were a lot of things that they couldn’t have been expecting— like your showing up looking for them. But she glossed it all over so smoothly.”

  “That’s right,” Honey said. “She had all of us convinced that you’d been hired by her father’s evil partner, and that something awful would happen if you caught up with her.”

  “Something awful would have happened,” Trixie said. “But not what she made us think. That isn’t the most amazing thing, though. I mean, she had quite a bit of time to make that story up. The thing that gives me goose bumps is the way she reacted when we told her Mark McGraw was a fake. She made up that whole story on the spot, about why he didn’t have a phone listing. And she calmly started putting on fresh suntan oil so we wouldn’t think to ask her to go get his card right then. What nerve!” Trixie shivered.

  “Even outside the store last night, I think she was ready to con her way out of the situation,” Jim said.

  “You’d be amazed at how far con artists are willing to go,” Burt Anderson said. “I’ve heard stories of them walking away from fifty thousand dollars in cash that was lying on a table within arm’s reach, because they had a chance at bigger money down the road. Some of them have played the same con over and over again, literally for a whole career, without ever getting caught.”

  “How can they keep from getting caught?” Trixie asked incredulously. “Word must get out—”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Sergeant Molinson interrupted. “Con artists play on people’s greed first and on their pride second. Many people, like Mr. Anderson’s client, help the con artists by refusing to press charges. They’re afraid of looking foolish if word gets out. So they keep quiet and take their losses, and the con artists move on to their next victims.”

  “Well, I’m not going to keep quiet and take my losses,” Mr. Lytell said. “I want my money back.”

  Sergeant Molinson nodded approvingly, and Burt Anderson said, “Usually all it takes is one person to get the ball rolling. Once my client hears that you’ve agreed to testify, I’m sure he’ll come forward. After that, other victims of these two swindlers will undoubtedly appear. The only problem then will be deciding which charges to try them on first.”

  “Of course, the ones who have waited won’t have such a good chance of getting their money back,” Sergeant Molinson added. “These people tend to live pretty high on the hog. They have to, to be convincing.”

  “If Laura Ramsey had shown up in blue jeans and a T-shirt and driving a beat-up old car, we never would have believed her,” Trixie concurred.

  “You didn’t believe her, anyway,” Honey added loyally. “You were the only one who didn’t trust her completely, and
you were right. I should have known better than to argue against your detective instincts.”

  Trixie shook her head. “I wasn’t so sure myself, at the end. Every time I was sure, Laura came up with a story that made my suspicions look silly. Last night, outside the store, when Laura said she’d come to tell Mr. Lytell her father had been found, there was a part of me that almost wondered if she wasn’t lying and if I’d wind up in hot water for phoning in a false alarm to the police!”

  “A false alarm is exactly what the desk sergeant thought it was,” Sergeant Molinson told her. “He wasn’t going to send a squad car out at all, since you hadn’t given your name and address. Luckily for you, I was just going off duty at the time. I heard him slam down the phone, and I asked him who’d called. ‘Some kid wants us to send a car to Lytell’s store,’ he said. ‘Some kid?’ I asked. ‘A boy or a girl?’ ‘A girl, I think,’ he said. Well, I hesitated for a moment; I was off duty, after all, and I just wanted to get home to my easy chair.

  “Then I thought of all those lectures I’d given you Bob-Whites about reporting things to the police. ‘What if they’re finally following orders, and I ignore them?’ I asked myself. That’s when I called for one of the guys and headed out Glen Road.”

  “It’s a good thing for us you did,” Jim said. “With both their cars out of commission, their only means of escape would have been the Bob-White station wagon. I think they would have taken it, with three of the Bob-Whites along for company.”

  “Oh, Jim,” Honey wailed. “I never thought of that when I was letting the air out of their tires. I could have made everything much worse by doing that!”

  “Nothing could have been worse than letting those crooks get away,” Trixie told her consolingly. She turned back to Sergeant Molinson. “You said before that the people who waited to press charges probably won’t get their money back. Does that mean that Mr. Lytell will?” Sergeant Molinson nodded. “They had all but a couple hundred of his money on them when they were arrested. As long as he has witnesses who will testify that he did in fact hand money over to them, he’ll get it all back.”