The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost Read online

  The Teed man, having unloaded his freight, tried to get out of the driveway. When he backed up his truck, the station wagon’s nose was against the truck bed. When he tried to move forward to circle the house, other cars and Hallie on a bicycle blocked the way.

  The driver pleaded. He argued, and he yelled. “Look, sis, I gotta get back on the job! I gotta punch a time clock, see? Say, don’t I know you? I’ve seen you someplace!”

  Brian managed to be here, there, and everywhere, and so did Mart. They were so “helpful” that a fat woman in slacks complained loudly, “I never heard of such a mismanaged yard sale! Here come the police. It’s about time!”

  “Good!” Trixie shouted to Honey. “Jim’s with them, so they’re on our side.”

  “We hope!” Honey retorted.

  Two policemen came up the drive with Jim. They blew their whistles and shouted, “Nobody’s to leave the yard!”

  Trixie saw the booted teen-ager try to slip inside the house, and she shrieked, “He’s getting away!” A long-legged policeman managed to catch up with him.

  The other officer was questioning the Teed driver closely. The driver raised his voice to plead, “Look! Somebody up there doesn’t like me, see? A couple weeks ago, I got in the doghouse with my boss. One more run-in, and I’m gonna get fired, see? I ain’t got nothin’ to do with no robbery. I just took my slip from the desk. I loaded my truck, and I brung it out here, see? I’ve never been in police trouble, I swear.” Wearily the policeman told him, “I have orders to see that you pack up your load and deliver it to the police station in Sleepyside, and that’s what we’re going to do. Get a move on.”

  He turned. “Is one of you named Trixie Belden? Well, Sergeant Molinson wants to talk to you.”

  The Bob-Whites had done their job well. Not one penny lay in the cash till on the porch. Disappointed customers grumbled as they got into their cars and left the yard sale. The relieved Bob-Whites headed toward Sleepyside.

  Honey sighed. “I hope that closes this case, so we can go on with the wedding preparations.”

  Trixie hoped so, too, but she was not convinced that they had done any more than scratch the surface of the mystery. True, one gang member had been caught. But where were the rest of them? Who was their leader? Was Dan back with the gang, and where was he?

  In Sleepyside, Jim drove straight to the police station, where they found Sergeant Molinson waiting for a full report. The sullen teen-ager, sitting in the sergeant’s office, muttered, “My boss’ll fix you kids for this. He can, you know!”

  “Boss!” Trixie cried. “I knew there had to be a leader. They’re too young to organize a large-scale theft and an out-of-town sale.”

  Sergeant Molinson grinned. “I don’t know about that. You Bob-Whites aren’t in wheelchairs yet, and you do pretty well on your projects.”

  Wheelchairs, Trixie thought. That word again. She asked wistfully, “Have you found Dan?”

  “Not a sign of him, but we’ll keep in touch,” the sergeant promised. “Have your folks come around to identify their property. Anybody care to identify and remove this scooter?” He raised an eyebrow at Trixie.

  “I do!” Trixie exclaimed. “Bobby will think Santa came in August instead of December this year.”

  On August fourth, just two days before the wedding, Miss Trask called all of the girls to the sewing room for a final fitting of their dresses. Even Mrs. Wheeler came to help Honey, Di, Hallie, and Trixie put on the lovely white dresses.

  Tom had built a sturdy stand to make it easier for Ella to do fittings. When it was Trixie’s turn to be checked, she stepped up onto the stand. Ella, her crutches beside her, sat comfortably on the floor, adjusting Trixie’s hem. Mrs. Wheeler sat in a rocking chair, ready to give final approval.

  Feeling like a fairy-tale princess, Trixie swirled the deep, lace-edged ruffle around her ankles. When she faced the triple mirrors, she could see that she looked as pretty as she felt. She smoothed the blue ribbon that fitted snugly around a waist that looked almost as tiny as Di’s. There hadn’t been time for many trips to Wimpy’s lately, and the results showed on her figure.

  Miss Trask said, “Turn. A little more. There. That’s right. Now, stand still.”

  Trixie stood. From her perch on the little platform, she could look through the window and down on the bicycle rack, where all the Wheeler bicycles were now in place. The children were happy at the Lynch and Belden houses because they had their scooters, wagons, and bikes again, and the furniture was back in the Lynch family room. Here at Manor House, errands could be run as usual. In fact, someone was taking a bike as Trixie watched.

  She gasped and leaned forward, receiving a sharp “Stand still!” from Miss Trask.

  The bike being taken was Jim’s, and the thief was that scrawny little teenager who wore both a cowboy hat and boots! He was stealing the bike in broad daylight!

  Trixie unzipped her white dress as fast as she could, while Miss Trask stood back, too startled to scold. Trying to keep her balance as she pulled on her shorts, Trixie saw the boy pedal toward the stable at a furious pace. Buttoning her blouse as she ran, Trixie pell-melled from the house. She had no idea what she was getting into as she swung astride Honey’s unlocked bike and took off.

  At the stable, a tread mark showed that the thief had gone straight through the alleyway. He knew where he was going. Behind the stable, the only possible route was the path to the woods, and Trixie took it. Once on that, the ride was all downhill. The path was well cleared, but it took all of Trixie’s skill to negotiate the curves at the speed she was traveling. Several times, she almost fell. Once she was stabbed by conscience, remembering the promise she had made to her brothers not to go off alone. There was no time to worry about that now.

  The path led across Crabapple Farm. Reddy barked when she passed behind the shed. Bobby’s voice came out of a tree: “Everybody’s in a hurry!” Well, that meant that he’d seen the scrawny kid. Trixie didn’t slow down. She pedaled even more furiously.

  The path paralleled Glen Road and led in a roundabout curve to the inn. She knew she’d gain time by taking to the road, but the scrawny teen-ager might swerve onto a bypath at any point. As fast as she’d ridden, Trixie knew that he hadn’t had time to stop and hide the bike. Still, she couldn’t see him anywhere.

  Feeling let down, Trixie circled the parking lot at the inn, then rode down the sidewalk near the kitchen. There! In the same lilac hedge where it had been hidden before was Jim’s ten-speed. That meant the thief was around someplace.

  Trixie had a sudden idea—Bobby’s frog hunter had sounded like that messy-looking Dick Ryksl He, too, had been seen in the woods. Maybe, just maybe, that teen-ager was making contact with Dick. That meant Miss Ryks’s room. And if not there, perhaps a room up on the third floor where Dick was said to visit.

  Trixie left Honey’s bicycle in the inn’s rack. When she walked toward the building entrance, she saw Mr. Lytell’s car pull into the parking lot, with Mrs. Vanderpoel waving from the front seat. Trixie grinned, remembering Miss Ryks’s lack of enthusiasm about company calling. Well, that lady was about to have more company than she bargained for.

  As usual, it was the nephew who answered Trixie’s tap at room 214. Before she could say a word, he slammed the door in her face. Angrily Trixie raised her hand to pound on the door, then stopped. Miss Ryks’s room was on the ground floor. It might be possible to look into that room from outside and see if the bicycle thief was in there.

  Trixie hurried out the service entrance and passed the garbage cans. Two more of the Wheeler bicycles leaned against the brick wall. Honey and Hallie could be here! Now, where were they hiding?

  Trixie found her cousin and her best friend behind the lilac hedge near Miss Ryks’s windows. “Why did you come here?” she demanded.

  “Haven’t I always spied on you?” Hallie teased. Honey said, “We knew that path led to the inn, so we came down the road. We could make better time.” Hallie crouched and spread the lila
c branches apart for a peephole. “What’s going on in there? First the room was empty. After a while, a man came in and flopped in a chair and put his feet up. Then he opened the door.”

  “Isn’t Miss Ryks in there?”

  “Not unless that Dick locked her in the bathroom. The wheelchair’s empty, and so’s the bed.”

  Through sheer curtains at the closed windows, Trixie could see the dim outlines of a chair and a bed. She could also make out Dick Ryks, but not the scrawny teen-ager.

  “Look,” Hallie said. “He’s getting a phone call.”

  “Mrs. Vanderpoel must be calling from the desk!” Trixie said. “I saw her in the parking lot.”

  After a long silence, Hallie gasped, “Trixie! Dick went into the bathroom, but Miss Ryks came out!”

  “She couldn’t have. You must have seen her come from the hall.”

  “No! The hall door didn’t open. Look, there she is, and she’s walking!”

  Miss Ryks strode about the room with great vigor, followed by clouds of smoke. “She’s smoking a cigar!” Honey said with distaste.

  At that moment, Miss Ryks stooped slightly to look into a mirror, patted her blue white hair, and put a choker around her throat. “No wonder she can’t talk,” Hallie said. “She chokes herself.”

  Next, Miss Ryks put on her dark glasses, threw a big scarf over her shoulders, strode briskly to her wheelchair, and hunched herself into place. “That old fraud!” Trixie stormed. “She’s no cripple, and Ella Kline needs that chair.”

  When the door opened, the visitor was indeed Mrs. Vanderpoel. After a little head-nodding conversation, Miss Ryks reached for the telephone. “She must be ordering tea,” Trixie said. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

  Within minutes, Trixie was back to ask, “What now?”

  Honey told her, “Miss Ryks pretended to be too weak to answer the door without help, so Mrs. Vanderpoel pushed her chair. The maid was at the door with a note. Miss Ryks reached for it, but she gave it to Mrs. Vanderpoel. Now Mrs. Vanderpoel keeps looking this way. What did you do, anyway?”

  “I sent Mrs. Vanderpoel a message that we’re out here,” Trixie replied. “I asked her to feel faint so that Miss Ryks would have to call for Dick’s help.”

  Miss Ryks’s back was to the windows. Mrs. Vanderpoel fanned her face and changed chairs. “She must be telling Miss Ryks that she needs air,” Hallie said.

  Trixie agreed, then muttered, “I hope Miss Ryks can’t see us in that mirror.”

  Mrs. Vanderpoel stared straight out the windows and swooned out of her chair. For a while, the figure in the wheelchair didn’t move. Then, she stood up, strode to the bathroom, and came back with a glass of water. She didn’t offer it to Mrs. Vanderpoel but instead sloshed the water in her face! Next, she slumped into the wheelchair as if she herself needed help.

  Mrs. Vanderpoel slowly staggered to her feet. In a few minutes, the maid brought a tray and set it on the chest of drawers. However, Mrs. Vanderpoel didn’t stay to tea.

  The girls raced to the front door, where they found their plump friend sopping the front of her dress with a handkerchief. “My land, what was that all about?” she asked them.

  “We’ll tell you later,” Trixie answered. “Quick, did she leave the bathroom door open?”

  “Well, yes, she did.”

  “Was her nephew hiding in the bathroom?”

  “No. There was only Miss Ryks, and, my dears, do you know that surprising woman can walk when she cares to make the attempt?” Tut-tutting, she headed for the parking lot and Mr. Lytell’s car.

  The girls returned to the rear of the building for the bicycles Hallie and Honey had left there. Suddenly Trixie warned, “Ssh! Get down! Look who’s here now!”

  It was the scrawny teen-ager! He was being pulled through the window of room 214 by Miss Ryks.

  “I’ll bet that’s who came in on the stretcher,” Trixie said shrewdly. “Ella said little and scrawny, and he sure is. Agreed?”

  Two heads nodded. Hallie added, “And now we know who was seen sneaking out of Miss Ryks’s window. I knew it wasn’t Dan.”

  Trixie picked up on Hallie’s thought and said, “Maybe Dan found out what they were up to, and they blamed it on him to get him in trouble with the police and keep him out of their hair.”

  “J-Just blamed him, that’s all?” Honey quavered. “What do you suppose they’re up to, anyway? I’m sure it has to be connected with the robberies, now that I see that gang member here.”

  “Will you look at that!” Hallie burst out. “Now Miss Ryks is walking around with her nephew’s head on!”

  “It’s—it’s a wig!” Trixie gasped. “That person in room two-fourteen is a man! He does it with wigs— a white one when he’s Miss Ryks, and that moth-eaten thing when he’s Dick.”

  As the girls watched through the window, the person in room 214 dropped Miss Ryks’s dress to the floor and strode about in hiphugger jeans. “I’ll bet he’s barefoot, too,” Trixie said, shuddering. “Let’s get out of here. I’m scared.”

  “Me, too,” whispered both Honey and Hallie.

  On their bikes again, they rode beyond the parking lot, then rested in the shade. For a long moment, not a word was said. Wide-eyed with excitement, Trixie said, “Dick is Bobby’s frog hunter, I’m pretty sure. Nobody else we know goes around barefoot and gearing dark glasses. But Dick is also his own aunt and has contact with Dan’s old gang. I saw that scrawny kid give the okay sign to the gang at Wimpy’s, and we just saw him yanked through that window. You’re right, Honey. They are a gang of thieves.”

  “All the robberies have to be tied together because the Lynch furniture was at the yard sale with the bikes,” Hallie chimed in. “The ‘Early Kids ’ note involved the country club where that comic was working the night the Lynch mansion was robbed.”

  “That clinches it!” Trixie exclaimed. “Oliver Tolliver, the comic, quit right after that news story. That same day, he showed up at the inn as Miss Ryks. When he, or she, moved in, the skinny kid was on the stretcher playing Miss Ryks, and Oliver was in that brassy wig playing the role of Dick Ryks till he could get to room two-fourteen and change his clothes. He’s an actor, and he has costumes and makeup. He can be anybody he chooses to be.”

  “Pretty slick,” Hallie said. “At the country club, he could decide who he wanted to rob—”

  “—and send the gang out to do it,” Trixie finished. “The club even provided the stationery for the notes he wrote! Do you realize what were saying? Miss Ryks is the gang’s boss! That kid that got arrested said the boss would get even with us, and Miss Ryks is coming to the wedding. Oh-h-h...” Trixie moaned. “What’s she, I mean he, going to do?”

  “We’ll talk to Dad,” Honey advised. “We’ll ask him to have Sergeant Molinson’s men there. It’ll look like they’re guarding the wedding gifts.”

  Soberly, the girls pedaled home, aware at last that the game Miss Ryks was playing was for keeps.

  Within sight of the Belden mailbox, Trixie warned, “Until Dan’s found, we have to walk on eggshells.” Hallie sighed heavily. “And I’ve got big feet.”

  The Truth Seeker • 13

  SICK WITH WORRY, Trixie was afraid to speak and afraid not to speak. The rest of the day, she tried desperately to make plans but always faced a blank wall. How could she plan protection for her friends and family when she didn’t know what that crook had in mind? It was just one more day till the wedding. In that time, anything might happen.

  That night, Mrs. Belden stayed in the kitchen long after dinner to prepare dough for the next day’s bread baking. “Sometimes I think I’m feeding two families,” she scolded good-naturedly. “How do all of you eat so much and stay so thin?’’

  “Me? Thin?” Trixie asked hopefully.

  Mart hooted. “Dream on, sweet princess!”

  “That’s just what I’m going to do,” Trixie retorted.

  Bobby followed Trixie to her room and stood in the doorway, waiting to be invited in
to talk. Trixie coaxed, “Later, please, Bobby?” She felt guilty when he turned away, walking like a little old man. What was bothering him? She’d find out just as soon as the wedding was over and Dan was found.

  The following afternoon, Miss Trask directed the wedding rehearsal in the garden. Not one detail had been overlooked. The ceremony would be perfect but for one thing—an usher was missing. Peter Belden substituted for Dan. The day Trixie had awaited with so much excitement was overcast with a gloom she couldn’t shake. The Bob-Whites smiled, but their eyes were too bright, their voices too sharp, and their movements too nervous.

  Trixie didn’t have much appetite and left most of her dinner on her plate. Quite late, she awoke from a restless sleep. At first, she thought hunger had roused her. Then, she noticed that the light was on in the hall. Fully expecting to find Brian or Mart raiding the refrigerator, she tiptoed to the kitchen.

  “Bobby!” she gasped. “What are you doing up in the middle of the night?”

  Wide-eyed with fright, Bobby spun around. In one hand, he held a slice of bread, in the other, a knife globbed with peanut butter. On the counter stood a pitcher of milk and other sandwich-making materials.

  Trixie thought she heard Reddy and moved toward a window. Bobby tensed, then cried, “Don’t go close to the window, please, Trixie!”

  “Bobby,” Trixie whispered, “what’s wrong?”

  “D-Don’t even look at the window. Or the telephone,” Bobby begged. “S-Smile at me? Pretend you’re hungry, please, Trixie?” Bobby’s mouth curved in a bright smile, but it didn’t match his quavering voice.

  “Okay.” Trixie, too, made a sandwich. She whispered, “Who’s out there, Bobby?”

  “Those robber kids,” Bobby said. “They sleep in our shed at night, and they wait for me to feed them.”

  “Bobby!” Trixie gasped.

  “Ssh!” the small boy warned fiercely. “They’ll hurt Reddy with their knives if I tell anybody about them or call the police. And they’ll hurt Dan, too. They’ve got the nocklers, and they always watch me.” He gulped and made another sandwich. “I was trying to tell you before, Trixie, but you didn’t have time.”